Stevens School Runaways - Part 16 (hist, tort, CBT, psych)
By Platypus (formerly Dark Man) 
plupy@surfbest.net

copyright 2005 by Platypus, all rights reserved 
(First published on Eunuch Archive)

* * * * *
This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY.  It contains
explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If
you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such
material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not
read further, and do not save this story.
* * * * *

Tom attempts to get the story of his ordeal out to the world
while the plot thickens.


Stevens School Runaways - Part 16
"Returning to the New Normal"

Alfred Cousins lived a bachelor's life alone in Perkins –
just north of town. A winterized log cabin was his humble
abode, rented by the month. "The man's a recluse – a strange
one," his landlord said, but she disliked him more because
of his bookish nature than because he was a loner. While
Cousins didn't mix much with the locals, he commuted the
fifty-two miles daily to and from Stevens. His mode of
transportation – a battle-scarred 1970 Chevrolet van, beige,
with darkened windows so the curious couldn't see much of
anything recognizable when they peeked inside.

The boys at Stevens were curious – as were the man's
colleagues. Although he was widely suspected of being gay, a
pederast or worse, he was retained mostly because of his
mathematics skills and credentials (he'd be difficult to
replace due to the reform school's remote location) and had
even earned tenure. It was a tenuous tenure, liable to be
revoked at any time – certainly for any major infraction
such as searching through inmate records without
authorization, or worse, contacting an inmate's biological
parents without permission from headmaster Taylor or
security chief Mueller. There were other facets of the math
teacher's character deemed irritating to the Stevens School
administration. It was obvious to many that he wasn't in
full agreement with the school's occasional punishment
regimes, especially those severe regimes meted out to
absconders. He'd frequently spoken out at such "festivities"
– even against those school-approved pain threshold
procedures that were government-sanctioned and considered
vital to interests of national security. Twice in the last
month, boys from Stevens had secretly broken into his van –
perhaps as part of an unofficial scouting mission approved
by someone on the reform school's staff or faculty --
looking to see what they might find, maybe something
incriminating, so that headmaster Taylor might fire Mr.
Cousins. But nothing out of the ordinary turned up. There
was also another element to the entire situation that Alfred
Cousins wasn't privy to. For more than a decade, The Stevens
School had been the beneficiary of an extraordinary
endowment from the government. Although these payments were
masked under assorted pretenses, the compensation was known
by a select few to be explicitly in exchange for the
school's cooperation in conducting "pain threshold"
experiments on inmates. Without that monthly stipend,
Stevens would be placed, to some unknown extent, in serious
financial jeopardy. All of these circumstances were to come
into play in due course.

*

Tom was dressed in pajamas and slippers while sitting up in
a chair during his eagerly awaited counseling session with
Dr. Sally Allred, a child psychiatrist who seemed friendly
enough. The boy was getting ready to drop what he still
assumed, despite Rich's earlier negativity about such
disclosure, was a bombshell. Still full of anger, he wished
to unburden himself about the brutal punishment regime he'd
endured. The affable Allred, a wig-wearing shrink with only
the wispiest of eyebrows, seemed to be listening, up to that
point – while demonstrating an encouraging degree of
empathy. "I know that you've experienced a minor ordeal, but
you must feel a certain amount of pride in getting through
it. I think that it would help if you compared your weekend
experience to an adolescent initiation, like they used to
have boys undergo in certain primitive tribal groups. I bet
you've read about the aborigines in Australia's outback –
although what you experienced had to be a much milder
version of such a ceremony – and without much of the ritual
entailed." While this was a take on the experience that Rich
had decided to stick with, as a method of coping with the
emotional aftermath of what HE'D endured, Tom was more keen
on developing his own slant. Feigning mild interest in the
shrink's comparison, he really wanted to interject something
entirely different, something that seemed more normal in his
opinion – even if it was within the realm of victimization.
The shrink reminded Tom of comedienne Joan Rivers, he'd
watched her show once.

"Doctor Allred, can we talk?"

"Yes, of course, young man. Go right ahead."

"It was torture – not just a few little dumb-ass punishments
or even an initiation. Those bastards at this school
tortured me and Rich."

"Oh c'mon now. Torture is a strong word – I know you were
spanked, both on the bare bottom and on the soles of your
feet – but those punishments are long established traditions
at this reform school – corporal punishments that are well-
known – and never performed to excess. Your headmaster Mr.
Taylor tells me that it's against the school's charter to
inflict permanent injury on a juvenile inmate and that your
school's resident physician, Dr. Thompson, was always
present during your punishment sessions."

"Yes, some of that's true. But they did a lot more things to
us. I could strip and show you all the marks on me – even on
my privates. I don't mind. I'm not so bashful anymore. At
least let me show you what they did to my feet. I can still
barely walk – and it's been almost a week!"

The shrink looked at the boy with some mock concern,
returning to her mild manner as if unfazed by Tom's odd
remarks. She was also condescending. "I know you're feeling
angry right now," she said, "but you deserved to be
punished. You and your friend broke the school's greatest
commandment. I think – like I told your friend Rich earlier
– and I will say he's more realistic about what happened –
he knew all about the Australian aborigines and in fact –
volunteered the comparison himself – I think that you need
to move on. It's not healthy for you to hang on to this –
dangerous repressed anger towards your teachers at this
school. It behooves you to adjust here – you'll be leaving
the infirmary and attending classes again – except for
occasional follow-up sessions with Dr. Thompson --
everything will soon be back to normal. Let it be boy, let
it be. That's my sincere advice." The part about "follow-up
sessions" wasn't clearly understood and went right over
Tom's head. Tom assumed that Thompson would just keep coming
by to cursorily "check him out" while he remained in the
infirmary. Wrong.

Otherwise Tom was persistent. "Can I show you what they did
to my feet?"

"Umm. I don't think that'd be appropriate."

"Can I pull my pajama bottoms down and show you my cock?"

"I'm not here to physically examine you. That's not my job."

"What is your job?" Tom had been very calm and collected up
to this point, but now his voice was rising, and his anger
was beginning to redirect toward the shrink. She's such a
dumb shit, Tom mused, Rich was right. They don't give a
flying fuck about me!

"Can I at least describe what they did?" Tom asked more
plaintively, and with an exaggerated deference.

The good shrink smiled again. "I think that's within bounds.
I'll get you some paper to write down your thoughts – while
they're still fresh."

"Oh, don't worry about that Dr. Allred, they're going to be
fresh for a long time. Like forever."

The psychiatrist peered intently at this boy she now
considered dangerously angry. She would write that down in
her evaluation -- notwithstanding the unfortunate and
accusatory fantasy drivel that she expected the boy would
write. Tom would almost certainly exaggerate in her opinion.
She'd seen his ilk before – a lot of such boys went on to
become murderers. She sincerely hoped that the boy would not
"act out" – by attempting to injure himself or, of more
concern, a staff member. I am very glad that I don't have to
work with kids like this every day, she mused. She would
indeed recommend a full regimen of follow-up procedures –
including work on the boy's genitalia -- all complementary
to a continued regime of "pain threshold" experiments. Even
castration wasn't out of the question with this one,
although that wasn't really her decision, and if such a
procedure was performed, she would suggest the use of a
local anesthetic. "You may think so now, but forever is a
long time," she said between her musings, while plopping a
pencil and two sheets of plain paper within the runaway's
reach. "Go ahead. Write – whatever you want. It's good
therapy."

As Tom began writing, his fingernails throbbed slightly. He
recalled the sharp needle thrust under each of them – and
under his toenails too. There's a reminder, he mused, a good
place to begin. But could he get it all down on just two
pages? "I might need more paper."

"Try to be concise," Doctor Sally said. She wasn't about to
hang around forever while this bitter kid scribed out his
life story.

*

Alfred Cousins had been summoned into headmaster Taylor's
office. Mueller was there too. Taylor came right to the
point. "Mr. Cousins. Tom Bridges' parents were contacted by
someone at this school claiming to be a member of our
staff."

"Oh," replied Cousins.

"Would you know anything about this?" Taylor added.

"Whoever did this had to go into the inmate files to get the
family's number – as well as make the call – both major
infractions by any staff or faculty," Mueller said.

"Are you accusing me?" Cousins defended himself while
peering straight into the eyes of both men.

"Everyone is suspect in this security leak, Mr. Cousins –
not just yourself. But your views toward leniency with the
boys – especially boys who've breached our rules – are well
known. I hope and trust that you haven't betrayed your
position of trust here."

"We WILL find out who did this," Mueller repackaged.

Later, upon leaving the office, Mueller glared at Cousins
and was even more direct. "If we find out that it was you,
your tenure won't be worth snot," he hissed.

End of Part 16