The Compound 2

The wind from the east carried the smell of freshly turned soil into Robert’s office. The Connor Compound had a constant problem with previously castrated boys. One could not simply release them, since they were incriminating evidence, but Dr. Connor did not find them attractive once they were no longer whole. Fortunately for him, the rural Oregon location afforded plenty of burial ground.

Of even greater concern was acquiring the boys in the first place. While there were many runaways in the Seattle area, Seattle was a long, nine-hour run from the compound. Even Portland was over three hours away, making it difficult to send John on those errands. Indeed, John, the local boy whom Robert had hired as his delivery boy, only handled local affairs within a 2-hour drive of the compound, which were infrequent at best. Usually, Robert only received one pair every year from local sources, which meant that they were usually classified as runaways and kept the numbers from being statistically anomalous to the authorities. Robert had spent his thirties as a psychiatrist in Seattle, meaning he had unusual access to street urchins and other homeless youths through his continuing service on several nonprofit organizations’ board of directors. During the monthly meetings, which now, after his early retirement when he turned 40, were arduous affairs to attend, he usually managed to acquire the names and locations of several boys; this time had been no different.

In the back of his blue van, which Robert had bought a few years earlier simply because it was a “kidnapper van” and abducting children with it made him feel superior to the police who had no idea he was even kidnapping children, was Steve. Robert had met Steve several weeks before. Steve was, like all the residents at the runaway shelter, asked to attend regular therapy sessions. Robert had volunteered largely since he rarely provided direct psychotherapy anymore and he still loved the profession from which he had recently retired. Of course, once he met the boy, he started to plan on acquiring him.

Disappearing a runaway is not very difficult. They are still granted some liberty, and during the day are allowed to move around the city as they wish, provided that they not upset the authorities. Granted this allowed them to escape again, but they cannot legally be held against their will, as the shelters have no parental authority. Therefore, they are allowed to roam the city. And respectable doctors roam the city as well, especially those looking for prey. Teenage boys are not afraid of their shrinks and when their shrink asks them to get something out of the van, boys always do as their told. Sure, they fight when the door is closed, but that is why there is a full cage back there.

No one ever really wonders what happened to the runaway. Everyone assumes they decided to go home, wherever that is. Or maybe they just needed to get away from their new “home.” It doesn’t really matter—they ran away again. No one thinks they were abducted. But in Seattle, many are.

* * *

Justin sat on the edge of the bed in his cell. A small square of grid of light on the linoleum floor was the extent of sunlight the brown-haired boy received. That and the lack of meat and exercise had taken a toll on the boy; he had visibly lost muscle tone and the beautiful light tan he had entered with. While he was still visibly attractive, he certainly did not radiate sexuality like when he had first been subjected to mechanical milking. And then there was the shock of watching his best friend’s torture. He often lay awake at night, wondering what really had happened to Mark. But his screams prevented any sort of activity with the female companions his captor had arranged. Still haunted by Mark’s screams and then him never returning to the cellblock, Justin knew his best friend was dead.

* * *

In the loading area, waiting for the inner door to open, Robert knew that it was going to be an interesting evening. Normally, he liked to give the new arrivals a week or so to adjust before being tested, but he had already had Justin for too long. When he had left for Seattle, the boy was looking slightly frail. Of course, the average life expectancy of a boy under his care was a little over two weeks; he had had Justin for almost a month; the compound was a processing plant, not a long-term facility.

He opened the door to the van with his 9mm pistol leveled. Inside, Steve had readied himself to pounce. The pistol aimed at his stomach, however, froze the boy in place.

“Steve, put your hands on your head and walk out slowly.”

The boy complied; his very dirty blond hair had been shaved to barely stubble. The boy was particularly thin, but not frail. Every bit the street urchin, every muscle was where it needed to be to survive and every ounce of excess had been shed over years on the run. Of course, Robert knew that and how dangerous Steve could be—he had interviewed him during several sessions personally and had read every other piece of information the shelter had on the boy.

“Slowly, strip.”

The boy, exactly as commanded, stripped his shorts and tee shirt slowly. Naked, he extremely pale and his rib cage jutted from his abdomen prominently. Nothing on him was soft, except his genitals; his entire body was either bone or muscle lightly covering bone. Unlike Justin, the typical suburban kid, Steve moved like a predator—every movement was expressly performed and every muscle was being simultaneously taut. But he did move stiffly, but instead in an almost balletic manner.

“Now through the gate.” Robert marched the boy directly into the main cellblock, past Justin’s cell and into the shower, which he locked behind the boy. Checking on Justin, he noticed the boy desperately needed a shave and a shower. Also, the crackers he had left the boy had disappeared, as had every crumb—clearly the boy needed to eat. Robert spent almost an hour showering, feeding, and imprisoning the boys. Leaving the boys, he made preparations for the evening.

* * *

Justin was escorted into the same room where Mark had been tortured, but found Steve strapped into a wooden chair. Next to Steve’s chair was another, exactly like it, in which Robert secured Justin. The chair was strange, however. Justin’s left hand and Steve’s right were in a metal cuff, whereas the other straps were leather. Also, unlike before, there was no machine and no hole in the seat. However, the seats were firmly bolted to the concrete floor, as Justin’s attempts at rocking did not even slightly upset the chair. Robert also pushed a ball gag into his mouth, as he had done to Steve.

“Gentlemen, we have a little game I would like to introduce you to. I know Justin already has played a similar game, but the rules are a little different this time. You see, the first one to cum will be punished, while he who saves his cum will get to enjoy a night with the ladies in Building 2. You may have noticed that your dominant hands have been left free. That way you can masturbate the boy next to you. And since you want to make him cum first, unless you want to be horribly tortured and then killed, I suggest you do your best to get him off.”

Robert hit a switch on the remote control in his pocket and the metal cuffs slid open. Steve instantly reached out for Justin’s flaccid, uncut cock and rolled the skin of Justin’s head between his thumb and forefinger. Being eighteen, when Justin felt the boy next to him touch his cock, he instantly began to harden. Reacting to the threat on his life, Justin reached over to grab Steve’s shaft, which he found already half hard. Looking over, he could see Steve was cut and probably about 6” in length and much thinner than his own cock. Justin wrapped his left hand around the slightly spongy shaft and began to pump the boy slowly trying to get him fully hard.

While neither boy had ever touched another boy sexually, they had been with girls. Justin had had quite a few girlfriends throughout high school, and as a senior now, had been with over a dozen. Steve, on the other hand, had only been with two. Justin’s touch was therefore more practiced and more erotic; Steve, in an effort to get Justin hard faster began to stroke Justin quickly. Failing to understand that masturbating another guy is less intuitive than masturbating himself, Steve ended up driving his pinky twice into Justin’s balls and causing the boy to attempt to double over in pain.

Fortunately for Justin, he had played enough sports to be able to control himself even in testicular agony, and managed to keep his hand on Steve’s cock, though he did not stroke it. Steve, realizing what had happened, dropped Justin’s defenseless organ for a second while the pain subsided. Justin surprised even himself by almost instantly stroking Steve’s fully hard member. Steve, however, found Justin’s cock limp again, but slowly hardening as Justin masturbated him. Picking up the semi-stiff organ, Steve slowly stroked the shaft, hoping that he would be distracted from the pleasure by knowing it was a guy stroking it.

Soon, Justin had found a tempo that was easy to keep and kept his pinky safely away from Steve’s sack. Steve realized that despite it being a guy giving him a handjob, it was not going to slow down his reaction much. Trying to salvage the situation and thinking back to when he had been in his early teens and needed to get off quickly, Steve used the loose foreskin to gently, but quickly vibrate his hand over just the glans. While Steve had never had foreskin to play with, he imagined that it would make it feel a lot better for this sort of thing.

Justin had never felt anything like what was happening to his head—it was like every nerve inside of his head was being vibrated at once. He knew he could not take much more of Steve’s handjob.

Of course, Justin was not alone in pleasure. Steve’s shaft was being methodically milked by Justin’s even hand. Steve, without realizing the buildup until a split-second before, started to shoot his wad. He tried to buck his hips into Justin’s warm hand, but the restraints held him in place. The thick, gooey slime shot onto the chair and the cement floor below and drooled onto Justin’s hand.

As Steve was still cumming, his hand continued to vibrate and Justin felt his own seed rise from his large balls. Steve felt the hot jism hit the palm of his hand and he dropped Justin’s spurting member. Justin had no penile contact and his penis pumped its creamy load onto his right leg.

“Well, that was interesting.” Robert walked over to Steve and placed the spent boy’s right hand in its cuff. Justin also did not resist the handling; Robert was always amused at how malleable boys are once they get off. Robert walked to a table on the far side of the room and walked toward the boys with a metal object in his hand. “Let’s call it a tie.”

Justin shook his head furiously as he knew he had won. Robert, however, ignored Justin for the time being and kneeled in front of Steve. Justin watched as Robert grasped Steve’s sack above the balls and tug it gently from his body. With horror, Justin recognized the huge scissors in Robert’s hands just before he opened the jaws and pushed them around Steve’s sack. Frantically pushing on every restraint, every muscle on Steve’s body tensed repeatedly as he tried to rip his arms from their restraints. Robert simply smiled as he slowly closed the jaws around Steve’s sack.

Steve felt the steel touch his skin as he fought for his freedom. Then he felt the first bite on his sack and he froze for a second in shock. But then, the horrible pain as the jaws separated his skin and he screamed into his gag. It only got worse as the metal ripped through the tubes connecting his balls and his pain-racked body convulsed in the chair. Looking down, all he could see was blood. Then he passed out.

Justin, however, had to watch as the metal slowly closed and separated the boy from his sack. A stream of blood poured from the wound, though it was less blood than Justin thought there would be.

“And now for you. You know, I had assumed that that would be for you, but you outsmarted the scissors. You’ve just been here too long so tonight is your time.” Robert looked around for a second, before his eyes fixed on something in the corner. “I know! You should get to see what your friend Mark went through.”

Robert walked to another table on a different wall and returned with something. Justin stared at the item, but could not make it out until Robert rotated it for him to see. He shook in his chair, pulling every muscle in his body in his effort to break free. Justin even felt something in his shoulder tear. He had to get away. He recognized the hammer. Robert watched amused for a second before returning to the table where he picked up a few nails and a few small pieces of wood.

Walking to the hysterical boy, Robert dropped his tools at the boy’s feet. He picked up a small piece of wood about six inches long and a nail. Using the wood, he pinned the boy’s sack to the chair and pulled the balls away from his body. Then, when the sack was stretched tight, he drove a nail into each side, carefully avoiding the skin, but distancing the boy from his balls. Picking up another piece of wood, Robert worked it between Justin’s balls, pushing them apart. Once the wood was separated from the chair only by Justin’s thin scrotal skin, he drove a nail into the side furthest away from the boy, driving the nail directly into the chair and avoiding skin.

Justin was in agony as the wood yanked his balls away from his body—the rough wood felt like it was ripping the skin right off his sack, and the wood against his already sore nuts was hell. He felt as Robert’s last pull tugged on the cords themselves, and the pain shot up into Justin’s stomach. Then the nailing vibrated the wood against his nuts, each hammer tap felt like a kick to his nuts. The second piece of wood was worse. The pressure was right on his nuts and they felt like they were being smashed. Looking down, they were clearly all right, but the pain was unimaginable. Then with horror, he watched as Robert lined up a second nail with the wood—it would go right through his sack, between his balls. Justin tried to scream, but the gag prevented anything from coming out. Robert drove the nail in with two hits and Justin felt the nail bite through his flesh—but the pain from the nail was terrible, the pain from the vibrating wood was beyond description.

With a wicked grin, Robert raised the hammer. Justin whimpered and shook his head furiously. He tired to beg for his balls, but he was gagged. Robert brought the hammer down on his left nut; Justin felt the pain tear through him. He screamed, but blacked out in shock. For a few blissful seconds, the boy was unconscious. Then, with a slap to his face, he awoke to searing pain throughout his groin and stomach. He felt like when he had taken a baseball to his nads playing catch with his friends. He had blacked out then, as well, and when he awoke, the pain was dull and everywhere in his groin.

Looking down, he saw what was wrong—his left ball had been pulverized. The skin had become a black and blue mass of dead flesh. Blood oozed from one side. He would have vomited, but the hammer hit his second ball before his eyes. Pain exploded in his body. His last image was his sack bulging slightly right before his testicle exploded under a metallic streak. Then he passed out.