(So, you’re probably thinking – he sent Scott home? What the hell was he thinking? Well, if you paid attention, you’d find that Mr. Poore had Scott (metaphorically speaking) by the balls: he knew about the ‘hot’ hardware from Bob, which I had to think was a setup. After all, Mr. Poore and Bob were friends. He also had him on a guilt trip over me and Canyon, and the sex thing. He gave him a porno, after all, and invited him to that slasher movie we all wanted to see; to say nothing of riding in the Ferrari. He was giving him everything that Scott would like, you know.
Then he’d mentioned Evan.
Now THAT bothered me. Would Mr. Poore hurt Evan? I didn’t think so, but then again, would I have ever believed how he’d treat me for those 2 weeks? And I still wasn’t sure what was up with the flashing lights and how Canyon had said that they’d ‘kinda’ hypnotized me and Scott, when I’d seen that light that time it was used on him. Canyon just left it with something like “It’s to help relax you.”
And something was still nagging me about the Tyrone connection to the missing Ronnie T. King. Hell, talk about getting blindsided. I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming. Then again, maybe I did and just looked the other way?)

We went back to our routine on Monday. The only difference now was that Canyon seemed happier, more open, since he’d got me off with the dildo. We didn’t do that every evening in free time, but we did it a few more times that week. We’d have probably done it more, but our schedule got messed up a couple more times.

Fortunately, Mr. Poore approved of it. It was even his idea.

We’d watched a porno Tuesday night, and this one involved a lot more oral sex between boys and eunuchs. The surprise at the end of it was when a young man, probably college age, I think, got in on it. I didn’t know any of these boys in the films, though. Kim wasn’t in them, just that first one. Then, at the very end of that one, the young man asked the castrated boy if he’d ever been fucked!

I had a drink at the time, and blew it all out my nose and choked!

Mr. Poore was pounding me on the back, telling me to cough it up, when the actors (actors?) just…DID IT! I didn’t move for the rest of the film. Sure, I’d seen the gay parts of the other videos. But that was men and men, or boys and boys. I’d never seen a grown man do a boy, or eunuch, before! I was spluttering when it was over.

“But…but? He can’t DO that! That’s illegal, sir!”

“Yes, it is,” Mr. Poore sighed, “But so are the videos you’ve been watching. So are some of the things that you two do every day, did you know that?”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Benny, did it look like that man hurt the boy on the show?”

“No, sir.”

“Didn’t he ask him first, to do it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did the boy seem to like it?”

“Yes, sir,” I had to say.

Well, he did!

“So where’s the difference in you liking to use a dildo, or that boy preferring to have a real man use his penis?” Mr. Poore asked. “The ancient Greeks practiced man/boy love for a long time, you know. It’s nothing new, and so long as it isn’t forced…?” He left it for me to decide.

“But that’s…that was real SEX!” I said.

“So maybe we should try it?” Canyon suggested with a smile.

I looked at Mr. Poore, we got the nod, but I was really afraid he was going to ask to…do what the man did on the film.

He didn’t, though.

That was the first night I got a blowjob.

From Canyon.

Of course, it was a safe bet HE couldn’t fuck me – or anyone.

“But isn’t what we do real sex?” Canyon asked me. “We both like it. Is it wrong?”

“No, but…” I said.

I saw a flash of light, and thought Mr. Poore might have taken a picture! Great, that would be just what we needed – pictures of Canyon blowing me! But he was just watching, like he was considering buying something expensive? I swear, he was writing notes on something! But I was distracted. It must have been that damn ‘relax’ signal, and I wondered – if you’re hypnotized, and you know it, and know the signs, would it work?

I didn’t think so.

“Benny, you wanna try what those boys did in the movie? You ever had your dick sucked?” He asked me again. He stopped with the dildo for a minute.

“I don’t know,” I told him, but the more he looked at me with that sad face of his, the more I wanted to try it. I was hard and so was he.

“It’s not like you’ll make a big mess like Scott,” Mr. Poore commented. “Neither one of you shoots, you know.”

So we did it.

I don’t know what Mr. Poore was up to then. All I knew was that Canyon had his warm little mouth on my dick, and he was working on it like he’d done it before. I just laid there on the mat, and let him do it. I wanted to stop him, tell him it wasn’t right, but it was so damn good…

And it was.

When he was done, he told me I was still ‘dry.’ Not surprised, seeing as how Mom had made sure I couldn’t hit puberty. I wondered if I was going to have a 2” hard-on for the rest of my life, if she’d ruined me? And Mr. Poore still hadn’t told me anything, if Dr. Kent had ever called him back.

I also gave Canyon the favor back. It took longer, too. He got hard, but he didn’t get off exactly like he did with the dildo. I figured next time, he’d wanna do both at once. I thought I might want to, too.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about that boy in the movie. He’d let a man fuck him! Granted, the boy was castrated, like Canyon, and it took a lot to get him off, but…a dildo was one thing. A plug was one thing. What the doctor did was a medical thing – but a real MAN?

Didn’t it hurt that kid to have a dick that big put up his butt?

I asked at dinner that night about Dr. Kent.

“Sir, did the doctor ever call you back about me?” I asked. I was getting used to wine by then, too. That 1 glass didn’t make me nearly as dizzy.

“Yes, he did, Benny, and it slipped my mind!” Mr. Poore said. “You’re perfectly healthy, but you have almost no testosterone in your body. Those shots did just what they were intended to do, but the good news is, they DO wear off!”

I almost fell out of my chair in relief.

I’d eventually hit puberty then, if…

‘…if you keep your balls,’ I reminded myself.

Mr. Poore answered that next question before I could answer it. “Dr. Kent said that it could be a few more years, though, the dose was so high, and it’s been going on for quite some time now. And even then, you might have some impairment and need booster hormone shots. You may even be sterile.”

I felt like I’d been kicked.

Puberty, at 15? IF then?

“Well at least you won’t make a mess like Scottie did,” Canyon said, “That’s was just…uncalled for!”

We had to laugh at that. True, it was a sticky, smelly mess when he got off and shot. I know – I’d been a target lately! That, and Scott was always griping about trying to hide the evidence from his mom.

I went to bed Tuesday night thinking about my balls. And Canyon. I might not see puberty on my own for almost 2 years, and the thought of getting shots like that kid at school, Kenny, did for diabetes freaked me out.

Then again, if I was sterile, which Mr. Poore and the Dr. thought, what was the point? If I could get puberty out of a needle, what DID I need my balls for?

I had weird dreams that night about Canyon chasing me with a butcher knife and cutting my balls off. Then he didn’t – my balls were still there. Then Jeffie was telling me to ‘shorten up my dick’ a little. It was shorter, then it wasn’t, in the dream. Then Scott was there, telling me, “You’re never gonna catch up, Benny! You’ll be short and dry all your life!” He was laughing at me. “You’ll never be able to shoot, or make babies!” Then Scott was getting off, making a mess. “No girl is ever gonna want you!”
”I WILL catch up!” I was yelling at him, but he was telling me that my balls weren’t worth having. I tried to tell him that someone was coming after him – some man, but he was too busy jacking off.
“It’s all your fault, Benny,” he then told me, as some man I didn’t know hit him over the head and dragged him off.

I guess I woke up yelling, because Mr. Poore was there, the lights were on, and he was holding me.

Canyon, blind and deaf to the room of course, didn’t know.

But I didn’t have a panic button like Canyon did.

So HOW did Mr. Poore know I was having a nightmare? And not just a nightmare-one of those ‘scared out of your mind’ nightmares!

Just like he knew we were at The Shack, or that I watched Scott jack off that one night?

He just held me, rubbed my back, told me I was OK, and let me cry. I was shaking, that much I remember, and he was carrying me out of the room.

“C’mon, son, I think you should sleep in my bed for the rest of the night,” he told me. The last thing I remembered about that was him giving me a half of a very small tranquilizer, and that was it until 8.

I didn’t get the usual wake-up Wednesday morning. I woke up blindfolded, but that was it. I could tell from the feel of the bed that I wasn’t in mine. I guess it was a little late, because he carried me out, asking me if I was OK, and touching me here and there…

He put me down in the hall, the door closed, and he took the blindfold off and told me to go wash up for the day.

“You got to sleep in Father’s bed, ALREADY?” Canyon exclaimed when I came down to breakfast.

“Benny had a bad nightmare, son,” Mr. Poore told him, “That was all.”

Canyon looked surprised. “Oh, OK,” he said in that voice, you know, that says, ‘I was thinking something else!’ You know that voice, that face people make?

Thing was, I had no idea what he might have been thinking.

I was surprised when Scott came over on Wednesday afternoon to swim. He hung around, too, and that really surprised me. Then I remembered the promise of the movie. There was a show at 7, and it was 1 ½ hours or so, so Mr. Poore decided that 8:30 was close enough and we’d just eat out. He even let me and Canyon have a small popcorn and a small diet soda. Scott was all excited about getting to go in the Ferrari, too, and he never shut up the whole way there or back!

We got home around 930, which was late for bedtime, but Mr. Poore just said it was fine, that he wasn’t that fond of Thursday anyway. No clue what that meant? Scott had told his mom he’d be home no later than 10, so I guess that got him off the hook for being invited to stay? After all, she WAS liable to call the cops if he was 2 minutes late.

Scott didn’t seem as jumpy, either. I wondered if he’d just decided to trust Mr. Poore and keep his mouth shut? I couldn’t help but think about the nightmare again, too. It had been so damn real.

I did get a little surprise after our bath, though.

As usual, when we were drying off, the plugs went back in. I thought mine was different, though. It felt bigger, made me feel…fuller.

“This is the next size up, Benny,” Mr. Poore told me. “Do you like it?”

I was hard again, since my dick had had the day off, and the plug was touching my prostate a lot harder than the one I’d got used to.

“This one’s going to keep you in a more stimulated state,” he told me. “Maybe even get your systems down there working better?”

“I…I hope so,” I said, finding that walking felt different. It rubbed more than the other one did, and the burn inside was more. I wanted to get off right then and there, but it was time for bed. No chance of it until free time on Friday night.

On Friday morning, I got another surprise. My weights were increased by 2 pounds each, so now I was carrying an extra 28 lbs of weight. I got weighed while Mr. Poore was filling them, too, and I’d gained another 2 lbs. But I didn’t look like it?

“Muscle, Benny,” Canyon told me, and he kissed me, then flexed his biceps at me. “It weighs more!”

OK, Canyon wasn’t the Incredulous Hulk or anything. I mean, he was a eunuch. He’d never be like a WWF star, or built like his dad, but he was built for a kid. He was lean and hard, and that was what I wanted, too. I wanted to look just like him.

JUST like him?

I’d been thinking about it more since Mr. Poore had told me that I wouldn’t hit puberty for another 2 years. I was almost 13. Hell, by 15, every other boy in school would have a bigger dick and hair and muscles.

But not me.

I could only imagine the teasing in the showers after gym class.

‘If you think that’d be teasing, what would they say if you DIDN’T have balls?’ I had to keep asking myself. ‘Maybe I can do school with Canyon instead, until then,’ I answered myself. Good grief, I was talking to myself!

I was so keyed up by free time on Friday, thanks to that bigger plug and the more intense porno we watched, that I thought I’d explode by the time me and Canyon got around to doing anything! He’d just suggested I blow him first, while he was playing with a larger dildo than I’d used ,when I heard a phone ring somewhere.

“GET THAT, CANYON!” Mr. Poore yelled, and Canyon stuck his hand up under the desk by the kitchen door, where the voice message machine was, and touched something. It clicked, the drawer came open, and there was the phone!

“Hello? – He’s in his office, I think on the other line, sir. Why? It did? Well that royally sucks, doesn’t it, then? No, Joe, I’m sure it’ll be just smashing – bring him right over. I mean, it was our week next week anyway? Right-o! No, I’m sure Benny will just adore him! They’ll have a lot to talk about. Yes, he does. No, not yet. All right, then, Joe, we’ll see you and Jeffie in a bit, sir? Smashing!”

Then he hung up.

“Joe’s got called in on an accident on the freeway, and he doesn’t want to leave Jeffie alone that long. He could be out all night, and Jeffie can’t take care of himself yet, like we can. Joe’s going to bring him here, since it was our week to babysit him anyhow, next week.”

“Babysit?” I asked.

“Joe’s schedule rotates. He’s a 2nd shift cop for a bit, and it’s too hard on Jeffie to rotate his schedule. So while Joe’s at work, Jeffie will stay here with us. I had to spend a week with Bob once when Father was out of town, did you know?”

I shook my head.

“Very little structure,” Canyon said, like he didn’t like it. “Bobbie gets spanked a lot, I’ll wager. I can’t believe Bob leaves him alone all morning, most days. I think I’d lock him in the basement, wouldn’t you?”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Bobbie’s lazy,” Canyon explained. “That’s why he gets punished a lot and can’t have shots, even though he’s almost ready for college.”

“I see!”

So even though Bobbie probably still had a dick, they weren’t going to have him develop it? Didn’t trust him at college? I thought of him locked in a chastity thing – on shots, horny, and not able to touch his growing dick. It made me hard.

“Now, what were we doing?” He looked at me, with my bobbing little dick. “Oh, right, wanting to get you off! Shouldn’t we wait so Jeffie can play too?”

“WHAT?”

“Benny, just because he only has a little stub doesn’t mean that he doesn’t like to have fun, too.” He looked at the dildo he’d picked out for me. “I think he’ll like this one, too!”

OK…I guess I should have expected it. I mean, the nudism thing? The castration thing? I figured all of Mr. Poore’s friends had pretty much the same lifestyle, but, it was still a surprise to think of kid like Jeffie using a dildo or getting a blowjob. I still wasn’t used to Canyon’s other friends having got some … stuff … cut off – and because they wanted to?

Hell, what KID at our age KNEW he did? And how could his dad, or whoever, just let him? I was thinking about it, yeah, but Canyon took a year to decide? And where’d he get the idea anyway? Mr. Poore had balls, after all?

I decided to ask him.

“Canyon, how’d you find out about castration?”

“Oh, Father knew a few castrated boys when he was our age, you see,” Canyon explained it to me, “Always liked the way they looked, but his father always said ‘no’ to him. Wouldn’t even consider it. I guess Grandfather was even more strict than he is, he says.”

“What happened to him?

“To Grandfather? He died when Father was at University. I think Fatehr proposing to that woman made him have a heart failure or something?” Canyon said.

“That ‘woman’ was my mom,” I reminded him.

“Yes, well, bad call, what?” Canyon grinned. “Benny, did you think that me and my friends were the only little gaggle of eunuch boys in the world?” He was almost laughing, “Boys have been made into eunuchs since ancient Babylon, I read. It’s nothing new!”

“You just don’t see a lot of them around here, I guess,” I told him, and I could just see it – Mr. Poore being raised like Canyon, only stricter? What kind of person had his Grandpa been, then? And how had HE raised his son – Mr. Poore? Like Canyon was being raised? But he hadn’t let him get castrated, and Mr. Poore had wanted to back then, when he was a boy?

That was a hard one to figure out.

“You look like you’re about to burst a vein, Benny,” Canyon told me, “Honestly! It’s just that now, it’s very rare to have a boy castrated so he can be a slave, or sold, against his will. It’s not like they’re being shipped to Arabia to guard harems or something! That’s all books, like ‘1001 Nights’, you know?”

“What do you think happened to that missing kid, Canyon?” I asked. “You think someone grabbed him, and sold him?”

“Knowing the news about him, and his drug dealing parents? Wouldn’t surprise me if THEY sold him for more cocaine,” Canyon shook his head. “Unfit. I don’t know how some people are allowed to have children!” He sounded upset. “We’re lucky, you and me, you know. Father takes good care of us, and we’ll be all set to do the same someday for some boys who need us. Just like he was.”

I shivered.

‘Us’? He’d said?

About then, the doorbell rang.

Canyon gave me a lift up to look in the peephole. It was Joe. In uniform.

Then Mr. Poore was there, and Jeffie nearly jumped on him!

“I’m sorry to impose, Martin,” Joe said, and he turned back around, “What a mess! Semi overturned, pile up, about a dozen idiots slammed into him. I’ll try and get back Saturday night for the party, OK?”

“Very good, Joe, no problem!” Mr. Poore waved to him, as he put Jeffie down. The bald boy pulled his oversize T-shirt off at once, and that was all he’d been wearing. His little stub looked rock hard, too, and he greeted us with hugs and kisses. He was very excited to be there. “Jeffie, is Uncle going to have to gag you?” Mr. Poore then asked him.

Jeffie went rigid. “No, sir!” He grinned.

Mr. Poore looked him over. “You’re looking very, very fine, Jeffie,” he told him, rubbing his bald head. “I’ve never seen a boy heal so quickly!”

Canyon moved closer to me and made a face. “Anything to get a catheter out faster, what?” He whispered.

“Thank you, Uncle Martin!” Jeffie said.

‘Uncle Martin’? Or was that just how Jeffie called him?

Mr. Poore kissed his head then told us to run along and play. It wasn’t near 8 yet, and since Jeffie didn’t have a pool, he wanted to go swimming. I sighed, knowing that even if it was free time, and I asked, I doubted if I could get myself off. Canyon didn’t seem bothered at all, though. I guess not having balls, even ones that weren’t making him go into puberty, limited his ‘want to’ for sex?

We were wrestling around in the shallow end of the pool when Jeffie asked me, “You don’t make a mess, like other boys with balls, do you, Benny?”

“No?” I told him, “Why?”

“Benny’s balls aren’t making that stuff yet, Jeffie,” Canyon told him.

“Are you gonna get castrated, like us?” Jeffie asked me, and I didn’t know what to say to him. He was such a happy little shit, I just didn’t know?

“I…I have to think about it,” I told him. “Canyon took a year, you know.” Then I remembered something. “Jeffie, what party was your daddy talking about?”

Jeffie looked at Canyon like he was suddenly scared.

“It’s a surprise,” Canyon told me, “All we know is that there is one, sometime, for someone. Everyone’s coming, here I think, but not sure. You know Father?”

A party? I wondered what THAT would do to our schedule? And yes, I knew ‘Father’ and his secrets.

“Benny, t’row me!” Jeffie was asking, and we did that for a while, tossing the smaller boy into the deeper end off our shoulders. He was a very good swimmer, too, so he must come over a lot, I thought?

I was heisting him up again to toss him, when he accidentally hit me in the balls with his heel. The pain was worse than I ever had when I got ‘nutted’ by Scott or someone, and I was thought I was going to puke. I couldn’t uncurl, and Canyon had to pull me out of the water. Jeffie was all over me, apologizing and crying.

“C’mon, mate, walk if off,” Canyon was encouraging me, “If you didn’t have those bloody things, you’d not have this problem, now would you?”

“G-good p-point!” I gasped out.

If there was one word to describe Jeffie, it was “weird”. OK, more like “perverted.” Granted, he’d been found abandoned in a dumpster when he was like 5, so Joe said. How long he’d been living in it, on his own, I didn’t know. But the kid was just flat-out…bizarre!

For one, he was always happy. He was always smiling and chattering unless Mr. Poore told him to shut up or threatened to gag him, or Canyon elbowed him in warning. He loved to talk, and he never stayed on one subject too long.

He also liked having his head shaved. Turned out, he’d had lice (and fleas) when Joe had found him, and that was the easiest way to get rid of them. He said he loved how it felt, and his daddy really liked it. I wondered if this had something to do with him getting the head of his dick cut off, too? Because daddy liked it? I didn’t ask.

I was just shocked to find out he’d thought Canyon was the coolest person in the world when he’d met him, and since Canyon was castrated…well, you see where that went? How could a 5-6 year old make that decision? I was almost 13 and it scared the hell outta me!? Still, Canyon looked good…

Next, Jeffie was into bondage. I mean, his collar was a real collar. It was leather, thick, tall on his neck, and it had metal studs in it. I figured it weighed a ton, and you couldn’t budge it, either. It could probably hold a mad pit bull. He’d also mentioned ‘leg irons’ when Joe and me had played that one night, and he’d handcuffed me. Jeffie asked me if I’d ever been ‘wrapped up’, and I didn’t know what to say, so I said ‘no’. Of course, he explained it between bites of food, and he ate fast.

“Like a mummy!” Jeffie laughed, “And you have to try and get loose!”

“Do you ever get loose?” I asked him.

“Once,” he nodded, and Canyon nudged him. Jeffie squealed. He was extremely ticklish, too, and like it, it seemed. “This one time, I was wrapped up, and daddy tickled my feet until I peed!”

What do SAY to a kid like that?

“I…I had an accident once, and I had to wear a diaper,” I told him, my face hot.

“I don’t mind diapers,” Jeffie told me.

One kid’s punishment was another kid’s reward?

“Sometimes you just gotta be punished,” Jeffie added, and that was that. Yep, he was into it.

I didn’t know what to say, but bathtime was sure different. Jeffie got strapped down to a bench, and Mr. Poore put a red ball gag in his mouth! “I think you could probably make 1.2 tonight, Jeffie,” he told him, and the boy was struggling – but giggling, too. Then Mr. Poore started tickling him! He made him hold it for five minutes, then he made him stand there and try to hold his rinse, without a plug in him!

Jeffie struggled with it, but after 2 minutes, he leaked. When we were all cleaned out (inside), Jeffie got a swat across the butt with the paddle. His cheeks turned red at once, he sniffled and then looked at me.

The little shit was smiling!

OK, I was pretty used to having my butt washed out every night by then, but that was just – strange – to me. Did the kid like being tortured? He’d looked like he’d pull a muscle trying to get loose, and now he was grinning from pierced ear to ear about being spanked?

“One boy’s torment is another boy’s delight,” Canyon told me, when Jeffie was taken to the barber chair after we were all cleaned out.

I was right, I guessed.

Mr. Poore neatly lathered Jeffie’s head, and shaved him with a wicked looking straight razor. Of course, Jeffie was strapped in tight, and he loved it. Then it was time for our ‘outside’ bath.

“And no fooling around, get clean, and off to bed,” Mr. Poore told us. It looked like I was going to stay frustrated until 6 tomorrow. “Canyon, you sleep in my bed tonight,” he added, and Canyon was thrilled.

“Awww,” Jeffie whined, which got him a good slap to the butt by hand. “OW!”

But he was grinning.

“No whining, and don’t try to make me hit you again!” Mr. Poore teased him. So we bathed, got replugged, and put to bed. I was freaking out to see that Jeffie’s plug was the same size as mine, and he was smaller than me!

I got my own panic button that night. It was brand new, and built into a small black leather glove, so all I had to do was push the button with my thumb. Jeffie was thrilled that I got to put him in Canyon’s bed, and once he was immobilized, Canyon tickled his bare feet. Jeffie squealed and struggled.

“Don’t you dare pee my bed, either!” He warned him. Then it was the blindfold, headphones, and even the ball gag again. But Jeffie got Canyon’s panic button, too.

It was my turn next, and after all the hugs and goodnight kisses, Mr. Poore told me, “You have to excuse Jeffie. He’s had a very hard life, and he’s just now starting to learn how to enjoy things. There’s nothing wrong with feeling good, Benny, even if someone else thinks it’s strange. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, sir!” I said.

“You’re bothered that Jeffie seems to like being punished?”

“Yes, sir.”

He then sent Canyon on up to his room, and told him to get ready for bed.

Canyon scampered after giving me one more goodnight kiss, and he was really smiling. He must have loved being allowed to sleep with his father.

“Jeffie needs lots of love and attention, Benny. Remember that. Just like you did when you got here. He may have been at this longer than you, but he’s also younger and much more traumatized. You saw him eating so fast? He’s scared that what he’s got will be taken away from him someday.”

“Sir?”

Mr. Poore sighed. “Jeffery was pretty much a wild animal when Joe found him,” he explained, in his ‘teacher voice’. “He coaxed him out of the dumpster with food, and it took weeks to get him to trust him. When he gained more control of language, beyond one-word answers, he told Joe he’d been eating out of the food court dumpsters all summer long. We don’t know how long he’d been hiding in there, and Joe never was able to trace his parents’ identities. Probably off the books, because they were into drugs, or something worse.” He sighed, “We don’t even know who Jeffie really is, or if that’s his name. He just used to respond to ‘boy’.”

That made me want to cry. I didn’t want to know how he’d survived the winter.

“I hope that missing kid in Leavitstown is OK,” I said, and I don’t know why I said it. Maybe it was the drug-addict parents thing, or how upset I was over Jeffie’s backstory? I don’t know, but I’d said it out loud. “What kinda life that kid musta had? Did you read it, sir? In the paper?”

“Yes, son, I saw it when you came over. You had it on you, remember? You’re really upset over that, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I bet they didn’t take care of him too good.”

“They did not,” Mr. Poore nodded, and I wondered how he could be so sure. “Not like we take care of our boys,” he kissed me again, putting his hand on my stomach. “Benny, keep in mind that not every child who goes missing in the world ends up dead in a ditch somewhere, or found in a grave in the woods years later. Some of them vanish without a trace, and find themselves in a much, much better life.”

“I hope so,” I sighed, and yawned. I was always so sleepy after bathtime. I never fell asleep so fast as I did there. Usually I was awake half the night, up and down…mom never noticed. She had her ‘mother’s little helper’ at night, like the song called it. I wondered what music I’d get tonight?

“I was lucky, you know. Benny, you should know, I was adopted. I think you need to know this. It was some years after the war, and my mother had died having me. My father was killed in an accident at the mine where he worked, and I was on my own – much like you were before we found you. I was lucky enough to be able to go to school and not have to work, you see, I was very young, younger than Jeffie there, and the teacher looked after me sometimes.” He reached over and tickled Jeffie’s ribs. “He wasn’t asleep yet!” Mr.Poore laughed. “Where was I?”
”Little, and an orphan?” I said.
”Yes, yes! So you know what I did?” I shook my head. “I just started walking. I didn’t want to be put in an institution, you see. Monstrous places, beastly, really. The war had taken a toll on everyone, though, and not everyone and everything had recovered yet, even though it had been years. Remote areas like ours were hit the worst, I think. I was only lucky in the fact that a wonderful man took me in when he saw me hitching along the road to London.”

“He took you in, sir?”

Mr. Poore nodded, and there were tears in his eyes. I wondered how he must have felt, if Canyon had said that his Grandfather – he’d never met – was even stricter than Mr. Poore was?

“He took me in, a boy no one else wanted, hardly into primary school even! And he raised me and loved me like a son. I made a vow that if I ever had sons, I would raise them with all the love and care that I was given. Every boy should be so lucky. One can only pray that those who are never seen again are so fortunate as I was.”

“Maybe someone like your dad found Ronnie,” I guessed. I hoped.

Mr. Poore was crying by then, and I wanted to hug him.

But I was strapped in for the night.

“I…I’d hug you, sir, but?”

“Oh, Benny!” He wiped his face on my blanket, “What a beautiful thing to say! Do you have ANY comprehension of how proud of you I am? How much we love you?”

I’d never seen Mom get like that before, and I didn’t know what to do. Usually, she was just out of it, or pissed off. And even though I was being ‘abused’, looking back, I know I was dreading going home. More than anything, I wanted to hug him and tell him it was OK, just like he’d done me the night before when I’d had the nightmare.

I guessed my life hadn’t been so bad so far after all…even if Mom WAS trying to zap my balls with drugs and hated men. At least we didn’t live in a dumpster and I wasn’t named “Boy.” At least I wasn’t dirty and neglected over my folks abusing drugs.

“I love you, too, sir,” I told him, and that was all I could do. “I…I don’t wanna go home Monday! PLEASE, can I come back, just a couple hours to see you?”

THERE, it was out. I’d said it to him.

He leaned down and kissed me again, held me, and I was suddenly so jealous of Canyon for having had 12 years of that already.

12 years of hugs, kissed, touches, being close, feeling a warm body next to yours, having plenty of good food, and someone who knew you were there. More than that – someone who took CARE of you? Even he did punish you sometimes?

And I only got 2 weeks.

I was sniffling by then.

It didn’t matter that I’d never seen any of my other friends’ folks act like Mr. Poore. I’d never seen Mr. Simonson hug Scott, even. But you just figure, you know, that kids with parents are being loved and taken care of? At least I did.

But the proof that I was wrong was right in the bed next to me.

And out there, somewhere – just a photo in the newspaper.

Ronnie…Tyrone?

An anagram.

Nothing more.

I wished it was more, though.

For HIS sake.

I was hoping that that Ronnie kid at least had a warm, dry bed.

Mr. Poore held me, touched me, kissed me for a while. I was still sleepy, but I was also still hard and frustrated. He never touched my dick, though. He did get a Kleenix and make me blow my nose!

When he put the blindfold on me, it didn’t bother me a bit. He covered me up, tucked me, and I knew I was warm and safe. Then his hands were gone.

“Dad, wait!” I said, when he went to put the headphones on me, “C-can I listen to that piano and organ stuff you were playing in your office the other day?”

“What did you just SAY?!” He asked me, and he sounded … sharp. Like I was in trouble. After all, I never got to pick my night music.

“The classical, yeah, that’s the name of it, sir! The record you bought for YOU last week? Can I listen to that, sir?” I thought I was in bad trouble.

“No, before that, what did you call me?” Mr. Poore repeated, softer this time. “When you asked me to wait, Benny?”

I gasped.

I’d called him ‘Dad.’

Not ‘Father,’ like Canyon did –

“Dad.”

I didn’t correct myself.

It was a word I’d never said to anyone before. I’d never had one.

And I liked the sound of it.

I liked it too much to take it back and say ‘sir’ again.

“I said, ‘Dad, can I listen to YOUR record, sir’?”

“Yes, son,” He then said, and before the world went quiet for a minute, I thought I heard him cry.

His hands moved over me again, head to toes, one more time.

One more goodnight kiss, rough whiskers on my smooth face.

Then the music started.

I felt so all alone, and almost squeezed the panic button.