“Fuck…fuck…fuck,” Scooter said as he came. After all these years, the boy’s hole was still tight; but Scooter’s cock wasn’t all that big; the kid probably shit bigger turds.

Scooter wasn’t about to let any other guy fuck the kid. If the screaming chicks that attended the boy’s concerts learned he was gay, it might just ruin things.

“Shit, that was good,” the boy said. He had climaxed almost in unison with Scooter.

Reaching down, caressing the empty place below the boy’s cock, Scooter said, “See, I told you that you wouldn’t miss them.”

The boy shrugged. “Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to shoot.”

He never had. Scooter had him castrated before he started puberty. At thirteen, he had undoubtedly been close, but he still had the dick of a little kid and no pubic hair.

His balls, too, had been those of a little kid. Now, they were in a bottle in a trophy case in Scooter’s room.

The kid’s scrotum was trimmed. It was as if the kid never had balls.

“You know we couldn’t take the chance that puberty would ruin your singing voice.”

“I know, but I can’t even get my dick hard. It used to get hard, before you had my balls cut off. I got off - jacking off - but I can’t now.”

“You get off, when I fuck you,” said Scooter. He liked it that way. The kid was doubly dependent upon him. If the kid decided to get a new manager, Scooter would out him to the press. Let Justin find out what being both gay and a eunuch would do to his singing career. No teenage bitch would scream her lungs out over a eunuch with a little boy’s dick.