All Prepared for the Boys: Part Four

Blond-haired Larry and his two loyal friends, Calvin and Johnny
have just entered Jefferson High School. Calvin and Johnny turned
fourteen years old during the summer, but Larry will still be
thirteen until his birthday at the end of October. While sitting in
the school cafeteria, the boys get to discussing the weird event
that happened in mid July. This conversation finally leads to Larry
disclosing for the first time to his two best friends what his older
brother Steven had told him in mid August concerning what had taken
place regarding the self-proclaimed boy-molester Dave, who had 
wanted to be castrated by Larry, Calvin, and Johnny (all thirteen
years olds at the time and in seventh grade at Victor Davis Middle
School) along with their twelve year old seventh grade followers
(Jarod, Vinny, and the Davis twins). 
 

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Summer was ending and blond-haired Larry, his loyal lieutenant 
Johnny (the tall, slim boy with dark brown eyes), and Calvin had just 
entered their freshman year at Jefferson High School. Johnny and 
Calvin had already turned fourteen years old earlier in the summer; 
Larry, however, would remain thirteen until his birthday on the last 
day of October.

The three friends were sitting at a table in the cafeteria of their new 
high school. They had been discussing how impressed the three of 
them were by senior Kurt Muller, football captain of the Jefferson High 
Jaguars, when Calvin recalled the weird events of the past July. 
“Remember guys how, after we found that castration stuff in our 
hangout, Steven came into his room while the three of us along with 
Jerod, Vinny, and the Davis twins were looking up on his computer 
articles about  castrating boy-molesters.”

“Yeah, I sure do,” Johnny chimed in. “That’s when Larry’s brother told 
us about Fairy Hunts and how he’d been chosen as the bait by the 
rest of the team, since he was a cute-looking freshman—just the kind 
of young boy Chickenhawks lust after.”

“That’s right, Johnny,” Calvin said and then continued what had been 
on his mind. “I’m wondering now if any of us are going to be invited 
on a Fairy Hunt. I would guess that you Larry would be the best 
candidate, seeing how your brother was so good at playing the bait in 
his freshman year.  But I’ve got no idea who the Fairy Hawks are at 
this school or when and how they pick a new boy to play the bait. But 
since we three have been a team since fifth grade, we should agree 
that if any one of us is asked to go on a Fairy Hunt, we’ll say okay 
only if the other two can come along.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Johnny stated in a voice both eager and 
confident. 

“To me, too,” Larry responded in agreement. 

“By the way, Larry,” Calvin queried, “Did your brother ever tell you 
why he let that weirdo Dave go free?”

“Remember, guys,” Larry responded, “how, after Jerod had given 
freeko Dave’s notebook to Steven, my brother told us to keep away 
from our hangout until he checked things out for us; then how he 
came back the next afternoon and gave us the all clear. And 
remember how the next day we found that weird note from Dave; I 
think it said, ‘God saved me from myself today, Dave’”

“Yeah,” both Calvin and Johnny nodded in assent.

“Well, about a month later my brother and I had just finished playing a 
game of chess, when I asked him why he never told any of us what 
had happened at our hangout regarding that homo who was begging 
in his notebook to get his nuts chopped off. Steven replied to my 
question by asking me to take a walk down to Smitter’s Pond.

“It was about midnight and we were the only ones by the water. We 
lay side by side on the north side of the pond’s grassy slope, looking 
up into a clear starry sky with a sliver of the crescent moon. After 
gazing silently into the heavens for what must have been an hour, 
Steven finally said, ‘Larry, wait until you get to Jefferson High School 
this coming fall before you tell even your truest friends—Johnny and 
Calvin—the story I’m about to uncover for your understanding. Calvin, 
who along with Johnny, will be accompanying you to Jefferson High, 
will probably be the first to recall the weird events of this summer, 
since he took a particular interest when I told you boys about me 
being asked to play the bait in a  Fairy Hunt at the beginning of my 
freshman year at Jefferson.’”

The story Larry related to Johnny and to green-eyed and red-haired 
Calvin was well-remembered. After Steven had asked Larry to keep 
things confidential until he entered Jefferson High School in the 
Autumn, the conversation proceeded as follows:

“You know me well enough,” Steven’s kid brother emphatically stated, 
“to be certain that your wishes will be obeyed.”

“Yes, that is true. Last July I felt you boys were not prepared for what 
sicko Dave had wanted you to do. The time to deal with boy-
molesters is by following the traditional game as it has been played 
out in American high schools all over the country for generations. You 
can say that this game has been and continues to be the 
underground puberty rites for straight boys. What faggot Dave did not 
understand is that we straight boys have always and will always 
make the rules. When I read Dave’s notebook that hot and humid 
July evening, I knew right away what I was dealing with. Some mixed-
up queer was trying to get you boys to play his game. To play his sick 
game would have been very harmful to you and your middle school 
agemates.”

“How’s that?” blue-eyed Larry interposed.

“It would have fucked with your manhood, little brother. The most 
important years in a boy’s life are from twelve to fourteen. A 
pubescent hetero boy needs the guidance of the older teen males 
who have already been initiated into the rites of manhood. A young 
warrior proves himself by his cunning and skill at hunting the enemies 
of his manhood. It is the hunt that counts. And there is no hunt for a 
young hetero boy that compares in its learning power with a Fairy 
Hunt. We male normals are the hunters; the male abnormals are the 
prey.” On saying this, Steven paused.

Larry quickly took the hint and wisely said, “Now I’m getting it. When 
does a rodent set a trap for an owl? This fag called Dave must have 
been setting a trap for us, to rob us of our manhood. But I’m still 
confused how he could do this.”

“The thing about knowing that you are a male normal is knowing that 
you have a good sense of right and wrong. If there is any confusion in 
this area a pubescent male normal can be greatly harmed. So I will 
now teach you the difference between an honest Fairy Hunt 
organized by male normals and the devious trap which the male 
abnormal Dave had set for you, for Johnny, for Calvin, and for the 
younger boys, Jerod, Vinny, and the Davis twins.

“First of all, you must learn to distinguish three types of males: the 
hetero male normals, the normal homosexuals, and the male 
abnormals—the boy-molesters. The normal homosexual males as 
adults do not molest hetero male normals; they stick to their own 
kind; and because of that, they ought to be left alone and not 
harassed. The normal homosexual males do not have a seething 
hatred for hetero male normals; and because of that, they pose no 
risk to our rulership. The male abnormals, however, are a great 
danger both to the male normals and the normal homosexual 
males....”

“How could the male abnormals,” Larry blurted out, “harm the normal 
homosexual males?”

“They harm them indirectly,” the well-built and handsome Steven 
replied. “Society gets confused when a male abnormal attempts or 
succeeds at molesting a  hetero teen boy. Society thinks that all 
homosexuals are prone to molest young boys. But the truth is that 
96% of your homosexual males are normal homosexuals who stick to 
their own kind. But the 4% of homos who are boy molesters gives the 
regular gay men a bad reputation. Is this clear?”

“Very.”

“The greater danger is, of course, to us—the male normals. Since the 
male abnormals are too cowardly to attack adult male normals like 
myself, they are driven by their resentment to prey on our pubertal 
boys—a young boy like you, little brother. The greatest hero for a 
male abnormal is the boy molester who succeeds at anally 
penetrating a male normal in his early teens and thereby polluting the 
innocent boy’s rectum with his boy-molesting semen. But this is a 
very rare occurrence since older teen-boy normals instinctively 
learned how to protect their younger teammates by inventing the 
game called the Fairy Hunt. And every game has rules. Isn’t that so, 
Larry?”

“Yes, I can’t think of any game that doesn’t have rules. Whether it’s 
ice hockey or chess, soccer or poker, a game always has rules. But 
why,” the good-looking lad mused, “is a game necessary to deal with 
the boy-molesters? Isn’t society relying on the law and prisons and 
now castration to stop the male abnormals from perpetrating on kids 
like Calvin, Johnny, and the rest of us?”

“The law is one big fucking joke. The police catch one out of a 
hundred Chickenhawks and call it a victory; and besides, we high 
school boys—all over the country—have been doing a better job at 
controlling the male abnormals than the so-called official authorities 
could ever do. Castration is great, but not until a boy-molesting perp 
has encountered the wrath of the Fairy Hawks do they seriously 
consider getting a surgical castration from a doctor. Because of our 
game more boy-molesters have ultimately chosen to be castrated 
than would ever have done so otherwise....”

“Steve,” the thirteen-year-old, once again interrupting his brother in 
order to clear up his newest confusion, confessed, “I’m really baffled. 
Last July that sicko Dave said in his notebook that he was a boy-
molester and that we needed to castrate him. After we confirmed by 
checking the Excite search engine on your computer that more and 
more convicted boy-molesters are volunteering to be castrated, you 
told us about your experience at playing the bait during a Fairy Hunt, 
and instructed us to keep away from our hangout until you checked 
things out. The afternoon of the following day you left for our hangout 
and later on came home and said nothing. Then on the next day, 
when the boys and I returned to our hangout, we found Dave’s weird 
note, declaring, ‘God saved me from myself today, Dave.’ Did you, 
big brother, find Dave lurking around our hangout, catch him, and 
then cut off Dave’s nuts like he wanted and thereby do God’s work? 
And if you did do all this, why would it have been wrong for us to have 
done the same thing like we were planning on doing if you hadn’t 
forbidden us from going back the next day?”

The twenty-three-year-old replied, “Remember, a little earlier this 
evening, you said, ‘When does a rodent set a trap for an owl?’”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

“Well, kiddo, that’s exactly what that sly pervert Dave had done. He’d 
set a trap for you boys. And if I had not intervened the manhood of 
the seven of you would have been in the greatest peril. Dave may be 
a sick fag, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a cunning boy-molester 
who wants to win the game between the male normals and the male 
abnormals. He knew just how to get you boys excited about 
castrating a queer. Also, he had you all confused regarding the male 
normals, the normal homosexual males and the male abnormals....”

“That’s because,” Larry, interrupting Dave for the third time, voiced 
with knowledge in his eyes, “I didn’t know the rules of the game and 
who the players are. When does the rodent set a trap for the owl? 
Never, unless the rodent happens to be a male abnormal.”

“Wonderful,” the twenty-three-year-old happily exclaimed. “I think 
you’ve reached the point where you yourself can describe everything 
that happened at your hangout the day I took your place and the 
place of your middle school friends.”

“The point of a Fairy Hunt is to lure a Chickenhawk into a well-
deserved punishment. We, the male normals, have to outwit a male 
abnormal. The game is fair because we use only the fairest means to 
catch the perp. A cute high school freshman boy is chosen by the 
upper classmen to play the bait on the Fairy Hunt. The bait on a 
Friday or Saturday night sits in a park frequented by male abnormals 
looking to pay some pubescent boy for the privilege of eating the 
teen’s semen. The perp may come across a harmless boy, some 
poor street kid, new to town, hungry and needing money even to stay 
at the Y, a pubertal boy who will allow a Chickenhawk to suck out his 
semen for fifty dollars. As long as the perp sticks to fellatio the kid 
feels his manhood is intact, and this would be true. But the kid-fruit 
knows the dangers associated with this type of cruising for chicken. 
He has either already experienced himself or known or heard about a 
fellow kid-fruit who has been beaten, maimed and robbed by the 
teamwork of high school Fairy Hawks. But since the Chickenhawk is 
driven to satisfy his hunger for teen-boy semen, he thinks he can 
figure out who is harmless and who is dangerous. Wrong again! The 
owl has evolved with the rodent. The wisdom of the owl is to see in 
the darkness; the wisdom of the chosen bait is to see into the dark 
manipulations of the boy-molester. Instead of a meal of freshly 
ejaculated semen from the ripening testicles of the pubertal boy, the 
kid-fruit gets a mouthful of his own teeth shattered by the soccer kicks 
of the bait’s older teammates. How’s that for part one?”

“Excellent!”

“Steven, the day you arrived at our hangout, clever Dave was already 
there inside. In order to deprive you of the Hunt, he must have 
chained himself, maybe by a pair of handcuffs, to something that 
would not budge like the legs of the heavy iron stove in the kitchen. 
Also, to deprive you of stripping off his clothes, he must have been 
naked on the floor. To deprive you of insulting his body, he must have 
already disgraced himself physically. I’d guess he had something 
shoved up his rectum, maybe a little league baseball bat. To deprive 
you of calling him names, he must have vandalized his flesh with the 
marker pen he had left with the note for us. To confuse you, he 
probably just wrote, “faggot” and “queer” receptively on his forehead 
and chest instead of “sick faggot” and “boy-molesting queer.” Also, he 
most likely had shaved his groin and written were his pubic hair had 
formerly been, “cut off my nuts”—No!—“Cut off HIS nuts” in order to 
take away his personal responsibility and thereby deprive you, as the 
male normal, of your right to a personal punishment. Finally, he must 
have brought the instruments he mentioned in his notebook: the 
elastrator, the bands, and some kind of knife. You, good brother, saw 
the trap he had laid for us naive middle school boys and released him 
from his chains and then left. That’s what happened.”

“And now you know how I protected you, sweet brother, and your 
good friends. This sick fag was hoping to deprive you and your 
comrades from the pride of accomplishment a pubescent boy gets on 
his first Fairy Hunt. That male abnormal called Dave wanted you to 
play a game without rules, a game of shame. To have castrated that 
fool, then and there, would have been against the rules that we—the 
male normals—have established. Sicko Dave knows that keeping his 
balls is a lost cause; therefore, he was plotting to implicate your 
innocence and the innocence of your middle school boyfriends in 
unfair play. We, not some disgusting perv like Dave, make the rules.”

“Yep, we make the rules, and now I’m ready to be chosen as the bait 
for my very first Fairy Hunt in order to gain the pride of 
accomplishment by playing fair and square.”

And with that last statement, blond-haired Larry’s big brother took an 
envelope out of his pocket and said, “My sweet and darling baby 
brother, take this letter from Kurt Muller, a senior and the football 
captain at Jefferson High School. You’ve been chosen as the bait for 
the first Fairy Hunt of the school year, and your faithful friends Calvin 
and Johnny have been invited in order to witness your skill. Good 
hunting.”

It was now two in the morning, and thirteen-year-old Larry sprang to 
his feet, and began jumping up and down for joy, hollering in excited 
repetitions, “owl eyes, just call me owl eyes.” And Steven, for a few 
minutes, watching and smiling at his kid brother’s enthusiasm, finally 
stood up. And beautiful Larry ran towards the handsome adult and 
leaped upwards, throwing his arms around the well-built Steven and 
unhesitatingly began planting kisses all over the surface of his face 
as the man accepted the loving boy’s gratitude. 

All that had happened that night in mid Autumn between the two 
brothers was heard in its entirety by Calvin and Johnny as they 
intently listened to Larry at  their table in the School Cafeteria.

Larry’s friends were happily excited to know that they would be 
joining their leader on his first Fairy Hunt. 

[Next Installment: Steven gets hired by a church-funded clinic that 
provides surgical castrations to repentant boy-molesters; but first, the 
Boys Get All Prepared for Larry’s passage into manhood.]