Quark Master

The Island of Dr. Monroe

Summary

Author's note

Story Codes

Disclaimer

• All characters are fictional and entirely the product of Quark Master's disgusting imagination. No similarity to any person, place or thing, living, dead, or undead is intended.
• This is an ADULT story, Rated XXX+++ and then some. If it is illegal for you to read this story in your nation, state, or state of mind, then don't do so.
• This is a GAY MALE story involving both adult and teen males in sexual situations, both consensual, semi-consensual and non-consensual. If this offends your religious beliefs: Don't jack off while reading it.
• This work of fiction is copyrighted by Quark Master (master(at)quarkmaster.com). It may not be posted on 'Pay' Internet Sites. It may be posted on 'Free' Internet Sites, as long as you send me an email letting me know about it, so I can brag. This work is for your personal amusement only. You may not sell, lease, loan or otherwise engender material profit from this work.

First Publication

Chapter 1

I had just turned fifteen when both of my parents died in a plane crash near Aspen, Colorado. They'd been returning after a week long ski trip in my dad's turbo prop. It was February and I was in school and so had been staying with my best friend Tom Everett and his family. Tom's dad and mine were really good friends and had been for years. Tom was about my age, only six months older, and we'd played together since we were little kids. In the last year, we had drifted slightly apart, as Tom got more involved in school sports than I did, but we were still close, and I considered him my closest friend and buddy.

To say I was shocked was something of an understatement. While my father and I had never been really close, I did love him, and my mother and I were very close. When Tom's father called me from the indoor pool where Tom and I were swimming, and sat me down and told me, I broke into tears. Something I'd never done in front of others before, at least since I'd been out of diapers. Tom patted me on the back, and his dad told me how very sorry he was. He was remarkably calm given how close my father and he were, but his calm helped keep me from sinking any deeper.

Of course, if news of my parents' deaths wasn't enough, the news that followed took away what little support my life had left. After talking to my parents' lawyer, I discovered that my dad was deeply in debt. He'd been living on the edge for some years due to some bad business deals. The sale of the house and the money from the few life insurance policies he hadn't cashed out to pay earlier debts would barely cover what he owed to several banks and traditional lenders. After all that he still owed nearly a hundred thousand to his best friend J.T. Monroe.

I just sat there kind of stunned, slumping down in the leather chair in front of the lawyer's desk. What about me? I asked him, what was going to happen to me and would I be responsible for the remaining debt? Both of my parents were only children, like myself, and both sets of my grandparents had been dead for several years. I literally had no relatives to turn to. I didn't have a clue what was going to happen to me. I would have been feeling desperate by this point, but I was so emotionally drained by the events of the last few days that I could barely get up the energy to even care anymore.

It was at this point my dad's lawyer told me the news that would literally change my life forever. It turns out, he told me, that a couple years back when my father last revised his will, he'd left my guardianship in the hands of J.T. Monroe, the same man he owed about a hundred thousand dollars to. The lawyer said that Dr. Monroe was flying in even as we spoke to attend the funeral and see to closing out the estate, and that, while he didn't know the man, he was sure that any man my father would appoint as my godfather, would be reasonable on the matter of the debt.

Needless to say I was very nervous about the prospect of going to live with a man I suddenly owed a lot of money to. I knew J.T. Monroe, and he'd always been good to me, the times I'd met him. He was my father's best friend, but my mother had often, especially lately, seemed somewhat leery of the man, which is another part of what made me nervous.

My father had met both J.T. Monroe and Mr. Everett when they were all at Annapolis together, and quickly became lifelong friends. Monroe had gone on to get a dual MD. and Ph.D. in Biochemistry and my father had gone into business for himself, while Tom's father took over his family's corporation, after getting out of the military. My father had done reasonably well for himself, or so I'd thought up until his death, but Monroe had apparently done fantastic. Multiple patents for various drugs and several other ventures I was only vaguely aware of. He currently owned a large island in the far south pacific, what he did there was unclear to me. My mother hadn't really known either, she said it was some sort of international trade, but she didn't know what, and if my father knew any more, he wouldn't say.

The first time I remember meeting J.T. Monroe, I must have been about five years old. He'd obviously seen me before, but to me he was a new and rather imposing man. He seemed a giant of a man to me, bigger than life, and I knew how much my father respected him, which made him seem even bigger. He took me up on his lap and bounced me around a couple times and told me what a handsome young man I was, and that he was sure I'd grow up big and strong like my dad. My father then told Monroe what a good young man I was, making me feel like a man, and he would brag of all my accomplishments. After that, Monroe would usually stop by every one or two years. Each time he'd stop, he'd pick me up or, later, pat me on the head, give my shoulders a squeeze and tell my dad what a fine and handsome son he had. My dad would then, as the first time, tell him of all my latest successes in school and elsewhere. These were some of the very few times my father would actually praise me, especially in front of others and it always ma de me feel very warm and secure inside. It was times like these that I felt closest to him.

The last time I'd seen Monroe stuck in my mind, because while the formula was similar it wasn't the same. I'd just turned thirteen, and looking back on it, after talking to the lawyer, that must have been about the time my father had acquired most of his debt. I'd known he'd had several bad years, but as a kid, I was never aware of the extent. That year, Monroe stopped by as he sporadically did, and he and my father had met all afternoon and gone out to dinner. My mother never went with them, saying she didn't want to intrude on their reminiscing about old times. Anyway, they got back home just as I was getting ready for bed. I was upstairs getting my pajamas on and heard Monroe ask my mom about me. I heard his booming voice and hurried down the stairs, anxious for the admiration and praise I normally got when he was around.

When I came down the stairs, Monroe smiled at me, like always, but for some reason it seemed almost more intent than usual. He patted me on the head, squeezed my shoulder and then somewhat strangely, lightly ran his hand down the curve of my PJ clad back, to the top of my butt, then swiftly removed his hand and looked at my dad. "What a pretty little boy you have James. A very pretty boy indeed." This struck me as all rather odd. When he'd run his hand down my back, I'd almost shivered at his touch, it felt almost intimate, and I didn't know what to make of it. What was odder though, was his choice of words, always in the past, he'd referred to me as a handsome young man, not a pretty little boy. Especially not at thirteen. For one thing, in my mind, pretty was a word used for girls, not boys, and for the other, I was thirteen now, more a man than I'd ever been before. The next odd thing, was that my father, instead of bragging about me, cleared his throat and looked rather uncomfortable as he quickly changed the subject to politics, while waving me to bed as he led Monroe to the other room. All in all, while I'd always liked Monroe's visits, the last time I'd seen him, things had been so different that I wasn't sure how things would be this time. Especially now that my father was dead, and he still owed Monroe a lot of money.

Monroe got there the next day, and quickly put my mind at ease, somewhat. When he saw me, he smiled broadly, then as if remembering why he was there, became somber. I wasn't sure what to make of that smile, I guess I was relieved that he was glad to see me, and didn't seem to hold anything against me, and yet slightly annoyed that he wasn't somber first, then happy. After all, it was, to that point, the worst period in my life.

Monroe had gotten there just in time for the funeral, and we rode together in a limousine from the church to the cemetery. It was the first moment we'd had to be able to talk. As we rode along, he put his hand on my thigh and leaned over to me. "Jason, I want you to know how sad I am for you. I think you know how much your father meant to me, he was a good friend, and I know a good father to you.

"I know it will be rough for you, coming to live with me. But rest assured, you will go places, see things, learn things, do things, beyond your wildest imagination. Things you can't even think of now." Monroe assured me.

"I know, thank you for doing this. It's just going to be hard to leave my home and friends behind. I've never been out of the country before." I replied. I hesitated a little bit, "Dr. Monroe, I've been told my father owed you a lot of money. I'm afraid I have no way of paying that back at this time." This had been a point that worried me greatly and I'd decided I'd better get it off my chest.

"Don't you worry about that. Your father and I had an arrangement on that issue, and it's all taken care of and settled. We can talk more of it later, when we get home to my island, but just rest assured that you don't need to think of it, it's out of your hands." He patted me on my shoulder, and squeezed it affectionately.

"You've never been out of the country?" I nodded, "then you don't have a passport?" I shook my head no. "Fine, don't worry about it. We won't have time to get you one, so I'll just arrange to fly you to Hawaii and have my private plane pick you up from there, that way you won't need a passport."

Over the next couple days, Monroe was kind and concerned and was very helpful in getting things taken care of. Signing me out of school, I'd wanted to finish the year, but Monroe said that given the school schedule on his island that it would be better to switch now, and start a new year. That had been a concern of mine, and in fact, of the judge overseeing the change of guardianship, what about schools on a private island? But Monroe had assured the judge and I that on his island was located one of the finest boarding schools for young men anywhere in the world, providing first class education and military style discipline.

The concept of military style discipline left me a little nervous, but I assumed since I'd be living with Monroe, rather than physically at the school, it might not be so bad for me. I still wasn't thrilled about leaving my friends. Tom, my best friend, and main competitor wished me well and gave me his football that we'd played catch with so many times. One thing we both lamented was that I'd miss his sixteenth birthday. Apparently in Tom's family, the sixteenth was the coming of age birthday. His father had a very special trip planned for Tom, the weekend after his birthday, but he wouldn't say what it was. Tom's older brother Jeff, wouldn't say either, other than it was a great rite of passage and the most exciting thing Tom could imagine. That it would make him a man. He promised to call or write me though and let me know all about it.

Monroe left a couple days ahead of me and gave me instructions with the ticket on how to change planes in Hawaii, along with this and a ride to the airport he also provided the support people necessary to get final details worked out and get my stuff shipped to the island. I was to just bring a duffel bag, all my other stuff was being shipped separately. And thus it was that I left the US and my old life behind.

Chapter 2

Monroe's plane was something else, it was an old restored amphibious plane, the kind that had retractable wheels and could land normally, but had the bottom of a boat, so it could also land and take off from water. It made me think of the Fantasy Island reruns I'd seen on cable, I wondered if there was short guy on the island ready to yell 'Da plane, da plane' when it landed. This was reinforced by the fact that the plane had been completely, and luxuriously restored, and refitted for long distance trips, apparently his island was a long way from civilization. I'd looked for it on a map, but couldn't find it listed anywhere, even though Monroe had told me the general location.

Again, visions of Ricardo Montalban kept crossing my mind, although Monroe actually looked more like a dark version of Kahn in Star Trek II than Mr. Roark.

The first surprise, after the plane, was the pilot. The guy was practically bulging out of his suit. I was hard pressed to figure out how he crammed himself into the tiny cockpit. He had long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and looked like an even bigger version of Fabio. Well, I thought, at least Monroe's employees are consistent with Monroe, this must be body builder island I'm going to. This idea, however, was put to rest when I met the flight attendant. This man was a fairly short thin young man with a shorter than military style crew cut. After we were airborne he came out and almost timidly asked if I wanted anything to eat or drink. He referred to me politely as 'sir' and refused to look me in the eye, instead he constantly looked down at my feet. I accepted a coke and a sandwich, and shortly thereafter fell asleep for the rest of the trip.

I woke up when the roar of the engines changed in pitch. We were heading in for a landing. I quickly looked out window. The island was huge, but appeared almost deserted. There was a beach with a very large dock, lots of palm trees, one very large tropical looking mansion and a few small out buildings. Everything else was jungle. There was no sign of any boarding school, and certainly no sign of a runway. The lack of a boarding school slipped from my mind as I realized that the plane was about to land on the water. That was so cool, I thought to myself. As the plane came down, I gripped the armrests tightly having never experienced a water landing, I didn't know what to expect. As we landed, there were a couple of skipping bumps, accompanied by a large spray of water and then we were cruising across the surface of the bay, just like on Fantasy Island. Unfortunately, I was on the wrong side of the plane to see much as we taxied up to the dock. I could hardly wait to get out and see my new home.

The door was opened from the other side, and I eagerly stepped out onto the dock. It was then that I began to really wonder what I'd gotten into. There were four men waiting on the dock, one who'd opened the door, and three others. Of the three, the most commanding was the one in the middle. He was, like Monroe and the pilot, huge. Unlike either of them, this man was wearing very little. He was wearing leather chaps, something like cowboys wore, only solid black. Underneath he wasn't wearing any jeans, only some sort of tight fitting leather underwear, a codpiece (?) I didn't know. From the waist up, he was undoubtedly impressive; he wore only a few leather straps crisscrossing his chest, almost like some sort of harness, joined together by a silver ring in the middle of his large hairy chest. This guy was also, obviously, a body builder, he almost put Arnold to shame. He had to be about 6'5" tall, judging by my own 5'4" On, both arms he wore tight black silver studded armbands, looking like they would pop of f if he so much as flexed his biceps. He too had a crew cut, but his, unlike the steward's was true military, flat on top. He also had a closely trimmed mustache.

While the sheer presence of this man drew my eyes, the others on dock were not what one would call ignorable. There were two other large men, one on each side of the giant man in chaps. Each of them, while shorter, was still over six feet tall and nearly as heavily muscled. They too had very hairy chests, stomachs and legs, but their heads were completely bald, only eyebrows. These men wore no chaps. Instead each wore what looked to be leather jock straps about two sizes too small, and the same sort of crisscrossed leather straps and studded armbands. At their belts, each wore a rather nasty looking bullwhip, and something that looked like a narrow leather broom (?) They had leather handles like the whips, but ended in a number of long leather strips. Kind of like a multi-headed whip. I'd never seen anything like them before. I'd never seen anything like these men before.

The fourth man was the least impressive, but no less shocking. This was the man who'd opened the door. He was of normal proportions, about 20 years old, wiry muscular instead of body builder like. However, this man wore almost no clothing, if you could call what the others were wearing clothes. This man wore only a metal studded leather collar, like a dog's, on his neck and an armband like the others, but on his right arm only. He also had leather wrist and ankle bands on as well. Aside from that he wore nothing. He was completely naked, what's more--he was completely hairless. No hair on his head, not even eyebrows, or around his crotch, which for his age, I thought was pretty strange. But being fairly new to puberty (and running a bit behind my friends, I hate to admit) I wasn't really able to judge.

The big man, in the center quickly brought me to attention. "You are Jason." He stated rather than asked, in a deep commanding voice. A voice that left me little doubt as to the truth of what he'd said, even if my name hadn't been Jason.

"Yes, hi! and you are?" I asked, sticking my hand out to shake his.

He stared contemptuously at my hand for a second before turning smartly around and saying, "Follow me." He started off down the dock, the two other large men separating slightly to be on either side of me as I shrugged and began to follow this strange man, who seemed to leave no room for questions. The naked man stayed to help the pilot and steward secure the plane.

The big man led me off the dock and across the beach, away from the palace, as I now saw it to truly be, and over to the edge of the palm trees. As we got nearer I noticed what looked like a concrete bunker type thing sticking up out of the palm trees. It had a single, heavy metal door, and was so small it had to be the top of a staircase leading underground. Suddenly I was thinking Jurassic Park. I wondered if I was one of those poor schmucks about to get eaten during the movie. This was definitely not looking good.

I wanted to ask questions, but none of my escorts (?) seemed to be the type to encourage conversation. The big man opened the doorway, and had the man on my left hold it as he preceded me down the stairs. This was definitely getting odder by the moment, if that was possible. At the base of the stairs we proceeded down a long corridor to an elevator. How much of this place was underground? As we got in the elevator I noted that there were buttons for six floors. This place was huge!

We exited on the fourth floor and walked down a long hallway with doors on either side. We reached one double door and the big man put his thumb on a pad by the door and a buzzing sound followed, during which he opened the door to let me through. He ushered me ahead of himself into what looked like a large lab. All around were tables full of chemicals and various hi tech machinery. Through glass windows I could see a few people working in even larger rooms with more computers and equipment. The big man led me across the room to another door, then down a corridor to another, normal door, which he again ushered me into.

This room was good sized and looked like a large examining room in a doctor's office. As I entered, the big man took my duffel bag from my arm before I could protest. He then exited the room through the same door, with my bag, leaving the other two guys guarding the door.

"What am I supposed to do now?" I asked them to no avail. They just looked blankly ahead, ignoring me. Not knowing what else to do, I sat down on the edge of the examining table. After about five minutes the door opened and an older man came in. This man looked like a doctor. He was the first truly normal, fully clothed person I'd seen. Unless you count the pilot and steward, which I didn't.

With a quick gesture he motioned for me to stand up, which I did. "Strip." He ordered.

"Excuse me?" I asked rather confused.

"I said strip boy. I'm a doctor and I have to give you a physical. It's standard procedure, now do it." His voice left no room for real question, and it did make some sense. I guess if I were starting a boarding school, I'd need a physical, but what sort of boarding school was this? "Where's Monroe?" I asked.

"Doctor...Monroe will be along shortly, now for the last time, strip." Not knowing what else to do, I stripped down to my underwear. "Shorts too." I slightly grimaced and looked pointedly to the guards. "Shorts," was all the doctor said, just staring impatiently at me. Nervously, I complied, but turned to grab my clothes from the table and hold them in front of my privates. The doctor shook his head slightly then grabbed my clothes from me and handed them to one of the guards. Having nothing else available, I tried to cover my self with my hands.

The guard with my clothes turned and left with them through the door. The other one stayed at attention. The doctor went over and got stuff from a cabinet, when I looked over at him, he turned around with a syringe and equipment for drawing blood. "Blood test first, give me your right arm." I nervously complied as he took my arm, leaving me only one hand to shield myself with, and proceeded to draw what seemed to me to be an enormous amount of blood. He then dabbed my finger with alcohol and took a small scraping knife and whacked off a bit of skin on to a slide.

While I was sucking on my hurt finger he came back and proceeded to measure me. Everywhere, like for a suit only more so. He measured my height, inseam, neck, back, arms, legs, feet, waist, chest, biceps, triceps, calves, thighs, even my nipples, penis and the diameter of my testicles. While he was doing this I was highly embarrassed, but even so was mortified to find my penis starting to get hard. I blushed hard. After he did this, he proceeded to look in my eyes, nose, ears and mouth, quickly running his fingers around my teeth, looking quickly for cavities, I guess.

At this point the door opened, and to my embarrassment and relief, in walked Monroe. Surely he would straighten this craziness out. My quick relief started to vanish however, when he glanced at me, almost like I wasn't there. "Dr. Monroe," I asked, "What's going on here? I don't understand this."

He glared at me, almost annoyed that I'd speak to him. "Be quiet boy," he said in a firm voice. "You will only speak, when spoken too."

"But..." I protested. He glared at me angrily. I shut up.

"How goes the exam?" he asked the doctor.

"Nearly done, just the hole is left. You want to inspect now, before I do it?"

"Might as well," Monroe told the doctor. He looked sternly at me. "Hands at your sides, at attention, boy." I didn't know what else to do, I was too confused by the whole situation, so I complied.

Monroe walked casually around me, looking me up and down, like I was some sort of meat. He nodded his head a couple times. He stood in front of me, and reached up and pried my mouth open with his thumb, which he stuck inside and rubbed around my teeth and gums, like he was buying a horse. It felt really weird.

He pulled his thumb out and reached down with his index finger and circled my right nipple lightly with the tip of his finger. His touch sent shivers down my spine, I'd never felt anything like it. As he continued to rub the edges of my nipple it started to contract and harden. Unfortunately, so did my penis. I tried to move my hand to cover myself but he quickly slapped my hands to my side. He looked down at my groin staring pointedly at my penis.

"Nice tits, must be almost quarter sized." My face flushed, my nipples had lately been causing me some embarrassment, they'd started to get bigger and kind of puffy like, so they stuck out if I wore too tight a shirt, so I'd taken to wearing baggy clothing. Here he was talking about them like this. If possible, I was beginning to feel even more mortified.

"Late bloomer. Looks like he just started puberty." He rubbed lightly at the small patch of hair that had lately sprung up around my penis. He raised one of my arms to look in my arm pit where only a couple hairs had started do grow, and were barely noticeable.

"Yes, very late. We've caught him at a good time." The doctor agreed.

"Yes, look at his pale skin." He ran his hands lightly down my side causing goose bumps. "Perfectly flawless, not a mole or blemish that I can see. Pale and nearly hairless. This is good." His hand traced under my left nipple. "Some slight muscular development in the pecs."

"Yes," the doctor agreed. "Not much yet, but I think very very good potential, notice the puffiness of the nipple, the bitch tit symptom, that usually indicates good potential for pectoral development."

"So can we arrest general development, and highlight specifics?" Monroe asked, he didn't make much sense to me, what was going on?

"Should be no problem. I assume we stop the hair growth." Monroe nodded. "I think he will respond well to localized injections of HGH-132L3 around the pectorals. Add some of the modified Estrogen 16C29 near the aureoles and we can increase the nipples very satisfactory.

"What?" I said, getting alarmed. Monroe glared angrily at me for interrupting. I shut up.

"What do you want to do about the penis and testicles?" the doctor asked. I was silently starting to freak. I didn't have a clue what these guys were talking about, but I knew I didn't like it.

"Dick isn't much, but it's probably too big already." Monroe said.

"Its approximately 5.2 inches when erect. Is that too big?" the doctor said. Monroe thought for a moment.

"We may want to do something about that. Also T131-45D96 into the testicles and scrotum I think." The doctor nodded. "What about the prostate?" Monroe asked. What was a prostate? I wondered.

"Well, obviously generalized arresting of pubescence will keep that small. If you prefer, I think we can find something to make it continue to grow, and maybe even enlarge it, for higher sensitivity." Monroe nodded in approval, but I had no idea what he was approving. "Any further things we can do will have to await the DNA tests." The doctor said.

"Fine." Monroe nodded. "Proceed with your exam." He stepped back a ways from me, to give the doctor room. The doctor went to his cabinet and pulled out some rubber gloves and a tube of something, along with some sort of metal probe about the size of thick cigar, but apparently attached to a small flashlight.

He smiled as he came back to me. "Turn around, and bend over."

'Uhm," I said. I looked at Monroe who simply stared levelly back at me, waiting for compliance. I shrugged, turned and bent over, gripping the side of the table. Having had a physical before, I had an idea what was coming, but I didn't like it. "Ugh," I said as his finger slid up my asshole. It hurt, he poked and prodded as far as he could. Then he pulled his finger out, and spread the cheeks of my butt. I felt something really cold against my hole. I tried to contract to keep it out. The doctor suddenly slapped my butt hard, startling me. This relaxed my sphincter muscles enough for him to shove the metal probe in. "Aaaaaahhh, ugghhhhh" I cried in pain. God did it hurt. I'd never felt anything like that. Like it was ripping me apart.

"Real tight." the doctor said, "that can be good, but we might want to inject something to give it more flexibility, enhance controllability, especially if you intend to do the prostate injections." Monroe grunted. After peering up my butt for a few more moments, the doctor pulled his probe out. My muscles ached where it had been, feeling almost stretched out. Almost like it was still there.

I turned around slowly, I'd at least lost most of my hard on. I hadn't noticed, but the other guard and big man had returned. If I hadn't already been red in the face I'd have flushed more on realizing they'd seen me while the doctor had my butt wide open. I looked around but my clothes were no where in sight. Monroe got up, nodded to the big man and left. The guard who'd taken my clothes came up to me, catching my eyes with his. I was so busy watching his eyes, that I didn't notice what he was doing, until he'd snapped the collar around my neck. I was startled and grabbed at the collar only to find it locked on tight. As my fingers searched over it, I could find no sign of a snap or hook, only metal studs and what might have been a wider piece of metal at the back.

"It has an electro-magnetically controlled lock on the back." The big man answered my unspoken question. "Only I or someone else with appropriate authority can unlock it." As I opened my mouth to complain, he raised a warning finger. "Only speak when spoken to." He said sternly. "Follow me."

Having no real choice I followed him out and down the hall, trying to cover myself as we went through the labs. He took me down the elevator to the next floor down. From there we went down a long hallway and then through a series of metal gates, much like in a prison. Eventually we arrived at a series of doors with a smaller doors at the bottom, and closable viewing windows at eye level for the guards, but too high for me. As with other locked doors the big man used his thumb on a pad beside the door to unlock it, and open it. He waved me in.

Not seeing much choice I entered. It was what I feared. Basically a prison cell. There was a narrow cot with a blanket, a small chamber pot in one corner and strangely a big wooden armchair with hooks at various points on it. I didn't want to think about that thing. Without saying anything further, he shut the door on me.

Alone, finally I was alone. What the hell had I gotten myself into? What was going on here? I fell down on the bed and sobbed. At this point I had no idea what was going on, but it didn't look fun. What was Monroe up to, and why had my dad trusted me with him?

Chapter 3

Perhaps another hour after I drank the shake, I was starting to dose off, when the door to my cell opened. I sat up quickly, but found myself slightly dizzy and almost over shot. It took a few moments to stabilize myself. When I looked up, Monroe was in the cell, sitting in the strange chair, almost like it was a throne.

"What..." I started to say, then remembered what I'd been told about being spoken to and fell quiet, hanging my head slightly to acknowledge my mistake. He nodded his head in return, noting my realization.

"You may speak freely, for this interview." He sat quietly waiting for me to speak.

"What am I doing here? What's going on?" I asked. He simply stared at me, as if I hadn't said anything and he was still waiting for me to speak. I was rather puzzled by this, but then thought of his military background, and the sort of military discipline he said his 'school' had. So I belatedly added, "sir?"

He smiled tightly and nodded at me when I said that. Obviously that was what he'd been waiting for. "You are here because your father signed you over to me. I am doing to you what I do for a living."

"Signed me over to you sir? What you do for a living? I'm sorry but that doesn't make any sense to me." I said, then again belatedly added, "sir."

"Signed you over, collateral is the term. As you know, your father owed me a great deal of money. When I lent it to him two years ago, he'd already mortgaged his house too many times to be worth anything, so he put you up as collateral for the loan."

That hit me like a brick. "What? Put me up for collateral. You can't put people up as collateral." At least I didn't think you could. "Even if you could, he wouldn't have done that." I looked at him, expecting a response. He stared back as if I hadn't spoken. "Sir." I added.

"One most certainly can and he most certainly did. I have the papers. While not entirely legal in the States, it isn't that uncommon in the rest of the world, and now we are in the rest of the world."

"But that makes it sound like ownership. People don't own other people," I said, "sir."

"Look boy, I won't mince words with you. You know that's not true. It's called slavery and it has been going on since the dawn of time."

"You mean like plantation workers? But the civil war ended that, sir."

"In the US. Not elsewhere, and not even in the US. And in this case, it's not really plantation workers. While I do sell some laborers, I mainly deal in more specialized products. Things that I, with my background, am able to better supply than most people."

I sat there for a moment, stunned. "You're saying my father sold me into slavery? For a loan?" I looked at him bewildered, I couldn't believe it. I finally remembered to add the "sir."

"Yes that's what I'm saying. Remember the last time I visited your father, that was what we agreed upon at dinner."

"But at the funeral, you said I shouldn't worry about, it that it was all taken care of, out of my hands, sir."

"I did, and I told you the truth. It was taken care of, your father signed you over to me, he failed to pay up, so I came to collect my collateral, and I did. And it was out of your hands, there was nothing you could have done to stop me from collecting you, so you didn't need to worry about it. The debt is paid now that I have you."

My mind was reeling, I was grasping at straws. "Look, I'm sure I can figure out some way to pay back the debt, I can borrow money from friends get a job? Sir?"

"The debt is already paid. I own you." His words sent weird feelings running down my spine that I couldn't interpret. "There is no way you could come up with the money, you're only a boy. Besides even if you could, now that I own you, anything you have is mine, and even if I wanted the money and it was yours to give me, I wouldn't take it. You're worth more to me than what your father owed."

"But why? I can't do anything? I'm no good at manual labor. Why am I worth anything to you? I'm just a kid, as you said." "Sir," I added when he didn't say anything.

"You really don't understand do you?" I shook my head. "As I said, I generally don't sell laborers, I sell specialty products. To be blunt, specially trained, and often modified, sex slaves."

"Sex slaves?" The concept took me by storm. "You mean like unwilling prostitutes?...sir?"

"Somewhat, only more so, most prostitutes aren't slaves, and there are limits what you can do with a prostitute. There are no limits with slaves. Slaves aren't people. They are objects, possessions. And you had better get used to it fast. You aren't a person anymore, you are a slave. You are a piece of property, like a car, a house. If you are lucky, your eventual owner, might, just might, come to treat you as well as a dog or horse, but maybe not."

I got a real sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I sat there trying to absorb this. It was then something else he had said hit me, and I made a connection to what he and the doctor had been saying earlier. "You said, often modified, what did you mean by that? sir?" I was almost too scared to hear the answer to this one.

He smiled slightly, "well, you know my history, my degrees?" I shrugged slightly, indicating I knew a little. "Anyway, I am a doctor and a biogenetic chemist, I've made a lot of money on my drug research and patents, especially in the fields of hormone and genetic therapy. Of course, my best research, I don't share, I use it where I can make even more money. I've assembled a crack team here, I pay them well, in more than just cash. We have made incredible strides in biochemistry and what I like to call genetic chemistry. More than what could ever have been done under the ethical constraints imposed on researchers in the US. What I can do with gene therapy, hormone treatment, systemic, non-systemic and psychoactive drugs would both horrify and amaze researchers in the US. My little empire is not exactly the Island of Doctor Moreau that H.G. Wells described, but for the purposes of creating the perfect sexual slaves, it's close enough. He made animals human, I make humans slaves."

I leaned back in shock. I didn't completely see the ramifications of what he was talking about, for one thing I knew very little about sex and what people wanted, but I understood enough to be scared. "And you're going to do this to me? But why? sir?"

"Because I can. And since from the moment I saw how you were developing, not just two years ago when your dad signed you over to me, although that pushed the buttons, but from watching you grow over the course of your entire life, I knew that you would be worth a lot of money. You are a very pretty boy, and a lot of wealthy men would give a lot to have you around to fuck." Monroe stood up to leave.

As he knocked on the door to be let out, I had one last question. "Sir?" He looked down at me. "Did my dad know what you did? Did he know what he was signing me over for?"

Monroe was silent for a second. "Yes, yes he did. You see, sometimes I rent out slaves, as well as sell them. He was one of my customers, that's one reason he was so in debt to me, and others. He knew exactly what was in store for you if he defaulted, even more so than you currently realize, and he signed the papers." With that he left. I sank back down on the cot, and cried myself to sleep.

Chapter 4

While I'd been relieving myself one of the guards had gone and gotten a small rubber hose and fastened a plastic tip on the end of it. He motioned for me to come forward slightly, and I did, at a loss what to do with out toilet paper. The other guard came forward and held my head down, so I stayed bent over. The second guard rubbed some sort of Vaseline or something on the plastic tip of the small rubber hose that led to a spigot on the wall. Before I knew what was happening the one guard had shoved the tip up my butt. I grunted in surprise and tried to stand up, but the other guard kept me bent over.

I heard the first guard turn the knob above the spigot, and shortly felt a very weird sensation as water started churning into my bowels. After a few minutes of churning the guard holding me let me stand up. But still the water came in. I was starting to feel real pressure in my bowels when the guard at the spigot stopped the water flow. "Hold it in," he said as he reached down and pulled the hose out of my asshole. "Now squat over the toilet and release." I did as instructed. and if I thought diarrhea felt odd, this was no comparison. As soon as I had let all the water out, the process was repeated. Then a third time.

On the third time however, the guard let the water continue to flow. It went on and on, until my belly started to distend from the water pressure. Finally when I was sobbing from the pressure. He turned the water off. But then they just stood there, not letting me release it. I squirmed from side to side, the pressure was severe. Eventually after about ten minutes when I thought surely I'd explode, they helped me squat and I relieved myself.

After this they led me to the center of the white tiled room. Lifting my arms, they pulled down some plastic cuffs attached by rubber cords to loops in the ceiling. With this they secured my hands above my head, so my arms were spread wide and high. Then to my surprise and trepidation went and unrolled what looked like a fire hose from a coil. Before I could think to protest I was blasted with hot water.

While not unbearably hot by itself, the heat and high pressure caused a severe stinging sensation all over my body, wherever water struck me. This deluge went on for what seemed like forever as they tried to make sure no crack, crevice or part of my body was left unscathed.

Eventually this little part of hell ended, and they led me to another room. I was positioned in the center of four nozzles, which shortly began to blow hot air all over me with considerable force. I was getting an all over blow dry. It was all I could do to remain standing in my weakened condition. Eventually they had me dry. Once dried I was taken to a sink and given a toothbrush and told to brush my teeth. After complying, the guard spread my mouth wide with his left hand and used his fingers to inspect my teeth and gums.

At this point the two led me to the elevator and back to the fourth floor. This time, however, I was taken to a different examining room than before. In this room, the examining table had been fitted with odd metal contraptions at one end. These I quickly learned were to put my feet in. I was laid on the table with my feet in the stirrups (I later learned they were called). This placed my feet higher then my head, my thighs rising perpendicular to the table and my knees bent, and my legs spread, exposing my asshole. At the top of the examining table were extensions for arms, to which my wrists were strapped and spread. Straps were also placed across the bottom my rib cage and over my forehead. I was completely immobilized. I had been too worn out by the shower ordeal to even put up a fight.

After being strapped in, I waited for about twenty minutes with the guards at the door, standing at attention. Eventually, what I guess was a lab technician came in. I couldn't see what he was doing on the other side of the room since my head was immobilized, but eventually he came over with a small cart and some sort of thing that looked like a cross between a soldering iron and some sort of hair plucker. The little red light on the tip, made me think there might me some sort of laser attached to it. If I had thought the shower hellish, little did I realize what was about to happen me.

I don't really know how long it took, but it seemed like days, but must only have been a few hours. What the technician did was simply go over my entire body, starting with my asshole and remove any hair he found. I don't know if he was plucking, burning or what. All I knew was that each hair stung like bee as he removed it. Each hair might have been bearable by itself but after so many the pain just didn't stop and quickly began to escalate. At some point during the procedure, I guess to calm me down or distract me, he told me a little about what he was doing. He said it was called opto-electrolysis, and that while painful, was nowhere near as bad as the old methods.

What it did, he said was remove hairs, one at a time and destroy the hair follicle. It was permanent hair removal. He said I was lucky, because I'd only started growing hair on my body, I didn't have many to remove. Just a few around my asshole, in valley between my balls and hole, the small patch around my penis, a couple under my arms, three or four around each nipple and about half as much leg and arm hair as most guys my age he worked with. He said in the old days, it would have taken him nine or ten hours, but with the new technique and the sparseness of my hairs he could finish it in six. Six hours! Six hours of hell, with only short breaks between them for the technician to stretch and get something to drink.

Finally it was done. After he put away the equipment, and gently massaged ointment into my battered skin, he came over with a syringe and gave me a several shots, in various locations on my body. He told me that these shots and subsequent ones, in addition to drugs that I would get in my food (for some reason he didn't have a problem telling me about my food being drugged, I guess it was because I had no choice but to take the drugged food or starve) would completely halt the process of puberty. I would stay just like I was for a long time. No more body or facial hair would ever grow, I wouldn't get any taller, nor would any other secondary male characteristics develop, like my voice cracking (which it hadn't). By this point, I could barely think, the magnitude of what had been done to me hadn't yet hit me.

It was only after I was back in my cell that what had happened hit me. Shit, they were trying to make me boy forever. Trying to keep me from ever being a man. Why? I just couldn't understand how someone could do that to me?

These thoughts weren't the scariest part though. I gently rubbed my tender groin, crying about the loss of what little pubic hair I'd had, thinking back on the excitement and secret pride I'd felt when I'd finally started growing hair like the other boys, after being a couple years behind most, and now knowing that it was gone for good, that I'd never have the body of a man. The scariest part though, was that as I did so, I felt my penis start to get hard, even though I wasn't even touching it directly. It was the thoughts of the loss that was doing it. What was wrong with me?

That evening I got another milk shake, by that time I was so hungry, thirsty and weak enough that I didn't care if it was drugged, I hadn't had anything to eat or drink since the last shake, except two glasses of water during breaks in the electrolysis.

The next morning I was once again woken by my door banging open and guards coming into haul me to the shower. The whole process of the previous days cleaning was repeated, both inside and out. This time things went a bit smoother, since I hadn't had any solid food in a long time. After the blow dry I was led to the same examining room, all the time trying to cover my denuded groin from public scrutiny. As I entered the room I passed Monroe and the doctor coming down another hallway. They glanced at my attempted modesty and Monroe raised an eyebrow as if he found it amusing.

Once again I was strapped in the stirrups and my arms spread above me. What hair was left to remove I thought? Surely they won't do electrolysis on the hair on my head? Then I remembered the guy at the dock and got nervous. However, this time Monroe and the doctor came in along with the technician. The technician came over and administered the same series of shots he had yesterday.

"Those are the shots to arrest puberty," the doctor explained to Monroe. "They're the standard gland inhibitors you developed along with the hormonal regulators in his food."

"Good." Monroe said as he came over to inspect the electrolysis. He rubbed his hand on my groin. I swallowed as I felt my penis harden. I saw him smile at my body's reaction. "What about the test results?" He began to gently stroke my right nipple with his left hand. His right stroked my scrotum, and then his middle finger slid down towards my asshole, gently stroking the tender skin. The sensation was almost too much to bear, I let out a small whimper at his ministrations. I felt something wet on my groin, and even with my head immobilized I was able look down my body, just enough to see the tip my penis leaking precum. Monroe ran his hand up the inside of my thigh. Stroking, gently stroking, I had never in my life felt anything so good.

"Very positive," the doctor said. "His genetic code is one of the very very few we've found compatible with the new neurogrowth stimulators. With select applications we should be able to triple the nerve density in whatever part of the body we want."

"Good, we've already decided on the hormones for enhancing his tits, so let's apply the neurogrowth stimulators there. He's been a bit modest, apparently having trouble getting used to going without clothes." He looked at me. "I know you want your clothes back, boy, but you won't be getting them back, from now on, you'll only wear clothes if it pleases your master. And by the time we're finished with you, you won't want to."

He looked at the doctor, "I want his nipples so sensitive that even wearing a silk shirt will irritate them." He twisted my nipple suddenly, causing me to gasp. "Also, boost the receptors around and inside his anus as well, we'll give the boy a genuine pussy, make him forget about this little thing. He gently rubbed the dripping tip of my penis, my eyes felt like rolling in my head. I thought my penis was going to explode. "But even so, go ahead and increase them in his balls and dick too. We'll make it so even the loosest softest underwear drives him insane. What do you think double or triple? How about an overall 20-30% boost to the rest of his epidermis? I don't want that too high, don't want him passing out too soon at the post. Also, while it might be nice to have him forget his dick, some owner might like a torture cock. What about the other tests?"

"All the ones you ordered were positive, you're getting good at spotting who'll take which treatments. We should have no trouble with the HGH variations for upper body development, with the RH-5C treatment we won't have to worry about any hair growth side effects from the various HGH combinations, they'll also enhance the four variations on female hormones for nipple enhancement and subcutaneous epidermal fat layers. As for the prostrate, no problem, nor with the testicular and penile injections, as well as all any of the gastrointestinal modifications you have discussed.

Even if I had understood what they were talking about, I wouldn't have cared, I was almost in heaven under Monroe's ministrations. I didn't know that a person could feel this good. Sure I'd figured out jacking off, but it was nothing like what Monroe was doing to my body now.

I barely heard Monroe say, "What about the psychoactive conditioning drugs?"

"No problems, we should be able to induce any of the physiological dependencies you suggested." Monroe had been gently stroking my asshole again. Suddenly, he thrust his middle finger up my ass. My almost closed eyes shot wide open as the pain penetrated my nervous system. At the same moment my face was splattered from the cum shooting from the head of my penis. I came harder than I ever had in my life.

"Good, very good." Monroe said.

Monroe left the room, and shortly the technician came with a wet cloth to clean me up, and then rub more lotion on to my skin to ease the pain from yesterday, while the doctor was messing with something on the other side of the room. After the technician had left. The doctor wheeled a cart over. "Now boy, just a few more shots and then we are done for the day. I could barely see out of the corner of my eye that the doctor's cart had a lot of needles lined up on a tray. He took the first one, dabbed a spot on the side of my left pectoral and injected it. The needle bite was sharp, but the sensation was cold. The doctor then proceeded with a second injection on the other side of the same pectoral, and then did two shots to my right. This was followed by two very painful shots to each nipple. A shot to each shoulder, upper thigh, and buttock followed.

He then moved between my legs and did a series of about five shots around my asshole. Tears were starting to run down my cheeks, but even so this wasn't as bad as yesterday. I couldn't see what he was doing but suddenly there was a shooting fire in my left testicle. I screamed and tried to thrash in my bonds, but I was highly immobilized. Then I notice a really long needle, he was preparing. Scared, I stopped moving. Suddenly there was a protracted sharp pain between my balls and asshole. It seemed to take forever, how far was he shoving that thing. It hurt bad. I whimpered as it ended. Then screamed again as my right testicle went shooting up in flames. Who'd ever heard of getting shots in the balls?

The doctor then went away for a few moments. I prayed he was done. Unfortunately it was to now avail. The next thing I knew he was sticking me at the base of my penis with three shots. Next came pain comparable only to the testicle shots as he jabbed my penis with his needles for three more shots.

Finally, he was done, and I breathed a sigh of relief as he left. The guards came and released me, but I was so gone by this time, they practically had to carry me back to my cell. I dropped onto my cot and was out like a light.

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