

				Worldwide Boy Gladiators


The Boys:

Christopher Andrews, boy zero-seven, age 13, American
Joshua Andrews, boy zero-two, age 11, American
Daniel O’Hanlon, boy zero-five, age 12, Canadian
Gabriel Shelton, boy zero-six, age 12, English
Miles Harris, boy zero-one, age 10, English
Philippe Dulac, boy zero-nine, age 14, French
Alexei Graznikov, boy zero-four, age 12, Russian
Illya Casparev, boy zero-eight, age 13, Russian
David Brown, boy one-zero, age 14, Australian
Ian Cloverdale, boy zero-three, age 11, Australian


Chapter 1.

	Extreme Action Broadcasting had its global headquarters in New
York City, with satellite offices in London, Paris, Toronto,
Moscow and Sydney. Completed in 2035, the building was one of the
tallest in the world and all of the company’s administrative and
production offices were located on the upper floors, overlooking
a most unusual media empire. Today known around the world simply
as XB1, it began inauspiciously in the fall of 2025 as a
low-rated, fifth tier wireless broadcasting network featuring a
twenty-four hour cavalcade of shock reality programming. First
re-running vintage episodes of Survivor, Fear Factor and other
similar fare, the XB’s viewership showed little growth for the
first year of its existence and it seemed certain the network
would join the ever expanding list of defunct and forgotten media
ventures.
	That was before William Durand purchased a controlling interest
in the failing company and began adding original programming to
the line-up. Unique original programming designed to attract a
very small but very wealthy and influential segment of the
population. Durand had a deep personal interest in his network’s
development of new entertainment, and he knew without a doubt
that audiences worldwide were simply waiting for his brand of
reality television to come along. In an earlier century, even an
earlier decade, perhaps Durand’s XB1 would have remained a small
underground sensation, catering to very small but enthusiastic
market. However that all changed when the United States became a
signatory to the International Child Slavery Act, which was
passed and ratified by the World Assembly of Nations in 2027.
       Within twelve months of the passage of this
euphemistically labeled “social engineering” law, Extreme Action
was offering fare such as “Bully my Middle-schooler”, in which
college-aged jocks put twelve and thirteen-year-old boys through
all sorts of brutal hazing and humiliation. “Little Guy’s Fight
Club” in which boys aged nine through eleven essentially beat the
crap out of each other in front of a live worldwide audience. And
of course the controversial but highly rated “Enslaved” which
followed thirteen-year-old Mark Davis through his first year of
servitude under the government’s newly enacted child slavery act.
The small underground network exploded into the mainstream, and
people around the world, men and women both, discovered something
terribly shocking about themselves: They enjoyed watching young
teenaged boys being humiliated and subjected to all manner of
suffering.
	The network is now one of the most-watched around the world, but
in the cut-throat world of reality broadcasting, you are only as
popular and credible as your latest epic spectacle of human
misery. William Durand understood this, and he understood the
somewhat remarkable but not exactly shocking truth that viewers
of all ages, classes, races and orientations enjoyed watching
boys nine to fourteen suffering all manners of tortures,
humiliation and degradation. For his newest program, in the
coveted Saturday prime-time slot, he needed something amazing,
astounding, utterly and totally shocking. Something that would
raise the bar for all future shows to come.
	Lara Tomlinsin was sure she had the answer. She’d only been at
XB1 for a few months, and while she personally had no great
fondness for her employer’s programming, she appreciated the
addictive nature of voyeuristic television. She also had no
particular moral apprehensions about developing a concept that
would make all of Extreme Action’s previous efforts appear tame
by comparison.
	“I don’t normally make time for personal meetings with junior
producers, Ms. Tomlinsin,” Durand began as he looked out over the
city from his office on the 121st floor. “But you were quite
insistent. This had better be worth it, or you’ll find yourself
over at Fox.”
	Lara smiled at the open insult, but quickly and efficiently set
up her presentation. The office lights dimmed, and William Durand
stared at the large viewscreen at the far end of the room. Lara
began her pitch, flashing a single picture onto the screen.
Durand immediately sat forward and laced his fingers. “What am I
looking at there, Ms. Tomlinsin?”
	“This is a detail taken from an ancient Roman fresco. Pompeii, I
believe, though that hardly matters.”
	“Those would be gladiators, would they not?”
	The attractive brunette nodded, her long hair flowing easily
with her graceful movements. “They are, sir, but they are much
more than that. Take a closer look.”
	She magnified the image. Durand was amazed at what he saw. The
smooth slender limbs, the beardless faces, the youthful
expressions.
	“Those are boys.”
	“Yes, sir. Boy gladiators.”
	“I didn’t think the Romans ever sent children into the arena,
not as gladiators anyway. Women yes, but boys . . . “
	“Oh, they sent them. In fairly large numbers if recent
re-evaluations of frescoes like these are to be believed. There
are a great many details about the ancient world that
conservative history texts tend to overlook. This happens to be
one of them. I suppose it would have all been too shocking for
early twenty-first century moralists, but of course, our
standards have changed somewhat in the last ten years.
Thankfully.”
	“We would not be in business if they hadn’t.”
	“And it’s my job to ensure that you remain so. I call my concept
‘Worldwide Boy Gladiators’.”
	“I’m interested already.”
	“I thought you might be.”
“Details, Ms. Tomlinsin.”
The young woman brushed her hair back. “Please call me Lara.”
“Very well, Lara. You have my attention.”
“Well, sir, my concept is really very simple, and based upon
XB1’s proven successes. As
the show’s title indicates, we will subject a group of boys to
various trials and tests of strength and endurance, they will, of
course fight one another . . . “
	“Little Guys Fight Club. We already have that show.”
	Lara nodded but was not deterred. “Gladiators will be
significantly more . . . intense . . . and considerably more
creative in its execution and production.”
	“I’m listening, Lara.”
	“The boys we recruit for the show will all be between the ages
of ten and fourteen. In order for them to participate, they and
their parents will have to sign a contract of indenture, which we
will hold exclusively until the boy’s sixteenth birthday.”
	Durand’s eyes lit up and he nodded slowly in approval. Lara
Tomlinsin had done her homework. It was a brilliant idea. “So we
will own each of them.”
	“Precisely. And since the boys will become the bonded property
of Extreme Action Broadcasting, we will have the widest
discretion imaginable.”
	“Limitless, I would say.”
	“Under the terms of a standard contract of indenture, the only
stipulation is that the boy not be killed. I think we can safely
guarantee that.”
	“Tell me more about the program. What can I expect to see if I
tune in on Saturday nights?”
	“As I said, sir, we will feature extreme tests of strength and
endurance. The boys will also be subjected to constant and
extraordinary physical and mental . . . duress . . . “
	“You may use the word ‘torture’, Lara, for that is what it is
and that is why people will be watching each week.”
	“Yes, torture. There will be competitions each week, with the
boys pitted against each other either in teams or individually.
And also, since the boys will legally be slaves, we can introduce
certain, shall we say, sexual elements into the program without
risk of government fines or cancellation.”
	“That would be a first for us.”
	“And a sure ratings bonanza.”
	“How will we handle eliminations?” Durand asked.
	Lara smiled. “We won’t. Remember, sir, for all practical and
legal purposes we own these boys until they turn sixteen. We
don’t eliminate anyone. Oh, there will be winners and losers each
week. The winners will receive some reward, the losers will be
punished. In addition, we will keep the boys on a competitive
points system. Pluses for achieving, demerits for failing. The
boys with the lowest scores will of course be subjected to far
worse ordeals and humiliation than those with higher scores.”
	“I assume the rankings will change constantly.”
	“That’s the plan. Certainly you can expect the youngest boys to
be at or near the bottom most of the time, but we’ll set things
up so they get a fair chance at winning at least some of the
time. I can virtually guarantee that every boy will spend some
time on the bottom. This system will help create rivalries
between them. We don’t exactly want them hating each other, but
we don’t want them becoming best friends either.”
	“What’s in it for the families? I mean I don’t think we’re
likely to find too many families willing to indenture their sons
just for the mild celebrity status they might possibly attain.”
	“Don’t be so sure about that, Mr. Durand,” Lara said with a
smile. She then flashed up the first of the pertinent financial
charts and figures. “But you are right of course. The chance to
be on television for a few years is a rather steep price for
selling a boy into slavery, so we will be offering financial
incentives to each family.”
	“How much incentive are we talking about here, Lara?”
	“Five million into a trust fund for the boy, accessible upon the
expiration of his indenture. And an additional half-a-million
paid immediately and directly to the family upon the signature of
the indenture contract.”
	“That’s not a great deal of money for us, is it?”
	“Our advertising income for the first season alone should net us
far more than we will ever pay out in trust.”
	“How many boys?”
	“Ten is a nice round number, don’t you think. We don’t want too
many or people will get them confused with one another. With ten
its big enough to allow for some real competition, but small
enough that viewers worldwide will get to know them.”
	“I’m sure the odds-makers will have a field day with this.”
	“Yes, and since we hold majority shares in several of the major
wagering parlors and casinos, we should net a tidy profit there
as well.”
	“So, we’re looking at about sixty mil to acquire the boys.”
	“Yes.”
	“Facilities? Where do you plan on producing and filming this
gem?”
	The screen flashed once again at Lara Tomlinsin’s command, this
time showing an aerial photograph of a small island. “Recognize
it?”
	Durand smiled. “That’s my island, Ms. Tomlinsin.”
	“Yes. Durand Island, formerly San Miguel. A tiny little paradise
in the Caribbean. Present population: One very wealthy and very
bored part-time resident. You.”
	“It’s the perfect location.”
	Lara laughed in agreement. “Somehow I thought you would not
object to being close to the production facilities on this one.”
	“Indeed I don’t. What did you have in mind?”
	“Well, sir, of course your private manor will remain untouched
and off-limits to everyone, but the entire southern two-thirds of
the island is completely unused. Perfect for the development of
this project. And since you personally own the entire island,
there’ll be no licensing or permits required. We can begin
immediately.”
	“What do you propose?”
	“Let me show you,” Lara said. A new graphic was superimposed
over the aerial view, showing an extensive complex of buildings
clustered in the southern area of the island. “Of course here in
the center you have the main arena. It’s designed to seat five
hundred people. XB1 can invite clients, advertisers, or personal
associates to attend the events. Of course to support visitors we
will need to enlarge the current landing strip, as you see here,”
Lara pointed to a runway running perpendicular to the shoreline,
several miles away from the complex she was proposing.
       “Next to the arena you have the training facility. Toward
the east you have the housing area for the film crew and island
staff. This building next to the housing units is the
administrative and pre and post-production facility. It also has
a cafeteria, and medical facilities for the XB1 staff. Everything
is state of the art, of course.”
 	Lara then indicated a small structure, which appeared to be
surrounded by a fence. “Over here, to the north of the arena, we
will have a maximum security barracks for the boys. We don’t want
any of them deciding they’d be better off swimming home once they
get on the island. When they’re not competing or in training,
they will be kept under strict control.”
       “Excellent. The barracks seems rather small.”
	“It is, Mr. Durand, intentionally. The boys will be permitted no
comforts, no television, no outside contact except a weekly call
home. The barracks contains five separate cells. Two boys will be
housed in each. It is more than adequate to meet their needs.”
       “Again, excellent. What is the cost and timetable for
construction?”
       “Assuming you give me a green light today, Gladiator
Island can be up and running by the end of the summer. I
anticipate having the boys arrive in August to begin their
training, with the premiere episode airing live worldwide on
September 7th. Total construction cost will be approximately
thirty-two million dollars, US. The sale of box seats in the
arena should net twice that amount within the first six months.”
       “Several times now you’ve mentioned the need for staff.
Explain this to me, Lara.”
       “Well, Mr. Durand, Gladiator Island will be a new venture
for us, something XB1 has never attempted before. Not only will
we have a large on-location set and broadcasting facility, but we
will also have to deal with ten boys who will be the legal
property of the corporation. To do this right, we need to have a
doctor, a team of nurses, at least six individuals trained in
juvenile corrections and a separate trainer for each boy, to
manage them on a day to day basis. Not to mention the film crew,
the commentators and a master of ceremonies for the broadcasts.”
       “You are talking about a sizeable outlay for payroll, my
dear,” Durand said, shaking his head.
       “Not as much as you might think. It is not terribly hard
to imagine that there are qualified individuals out there who
would be more than happy to relocate to the island and oversee
the boys for limited or no salary.”
       “I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
       “And you’re not alone. I’ve already taken the liberty of
having our recruiting office begin the search for suitable
candidates for the island’s full-time positions. Travel, room and
board would of course be provided by the company for the duration
of their employment.”
       “That seems fair. Do we have prospects for all open
positions at this time?”
       “We do, all except master of ceremonies. But I have
someone in mind for that.”
       “Indeed. Who?”
       Lara flashed her boss her winning smile. “You, sir. Who
could be better?”
       Durand was flattered, and quite pleased with the idea. “I
humbly accept, Ms. Tomlinsin,” he said with a dignified bow of
his head. “Now, tell me about the boys. Have you begun recruiting
them as well?”
       “Not yet, sir,” the young woman answered, knowing she had
the world’s most powerful media mogul sold on her idea. “But we
naturally want slim, handsome, athletic boys . . . and since
we’re calling it ‘Worldwide Boy Gladiators’ we need to recruit
from outside the United States as well.”
“How will you find them?”
“I’ll start by having recruitment search the web for elementary
and middle school athletics
pages. We need boys who are champions. We’ll focus on swimmers,
wrestlers, soccer players, maybe runners and gymnasts too. Boys
from those five groups should all have the physical
characteristics we’re looking for.”
	“You have your green light, Lara. Make this show a reality.”
	“Thank you, sir. You won’t be disappointed.”

Chapter 2:

	Six months later.  Bowie, Maryland. USA.
	Thirteen-year-old Christopher Andrews stood in front of his
family’s mailbox, holding the plain brown envelope in his left
hand. Chris never got mail, at least not addressed directly to
him. What was even more amazing was that his younger brother Josh
also had an identical envelope.
	“Mr. Joshua M. Andrews,” the blond-haired eleven-year-old said,
holding the letter up to the sky. “That’s me alright. You got one
too, huh, bro?”
	“Sure did, squirt,” the equally blond-haired young teenager
replied. “Let’s get inside and open ‘em up.”
	“Race ya!” Josh shouted, bolting toward the front porch without
further warning.
	“No contest, baby brother,” Chris laughed. It took his slender
five-foot frame about seven steps to pass that of his
four-and-a-half foot tall brother.
	 “No fair,” Josh yelled as he tromped up the wooden steps.
“You’re legs are longer ‘n mine.”
	Chris gave Josh an affectionate little punch in the shoulder and
they went inside. The two boys were about as close as brothers
could be. Josh was just old enough not to be a pest to his big
brother, and Chris was still young enough that he didn’t mind
hanging out with Josh. They certainly looked like brothers. Both
boys had blond hair, which they wore shoulder length. Chris had
blue eyes, like his mom, Josh’s were brown like his dad’s. They
were both were lightly tanned from summer days spent outdoors.
Chris had a few freckles across his nose. Josh did too. They were
slender, athletic, muscular young boys who loved, and played,
practically every sport ever created. Chris was the state
swimming champ for his age group. Josh carried the same title in
wrestling. Their medals hung proudly on the family mantle above
the fireplace.
	Young Chris was in his first year of puberty, his voice always
crackling and breaking at the most embarrassing moments. Josh was
still prepubescent, but he was starting to get taller and would
probably start noticing other changes about his body in the next
few months.
	“Mommmm, we’re home,” Chris called as he shucked off his shoes
and put his envelope down on the kitchen table. Josh copied his
brother precisely.
	Lindsay Andrews came up from the basement carrying a basket of
laundry. She smiled when she saw her two sons. “Hi, boys. What
did you two get up to today?”
	“Nothin’, mom,” Josh answered. “Just rode our bikes ‘n stuff.”
	“Someone sent me and Josh a letter,” Chris said.
	 Lindsay set the laundry basket down on the table and examined
the two identical letters. The return address was a post office
box in New York City, but there was no name for the sender.
	“Can we open ‘em?” Josh asked.
	“They’re your letters, boys,” mom answered. “Don’t see why not.”
	The two boys tore open the envelopes. Inside each was a single
page letter bearing the XB1 logo in the top left corner.
	“XB1!” Chris whistled in admiration. The thirteen-year-old loved
‘Little Guys Fight Club’ and often practiced moves on Joshua. The
boys weren’t allowed to watch any of the networks other shows,
but Chris had sneaked downstairs a few times when everyone else
had gone to bed to watch ‘Enslaved’, which this year featured a
fourteen-year-old named Ryan. That show gave Christopher a rather
funny feeling in his gut, and his teenaged dick always got hard
when he watched it. He didn’t really know why.
	After he read his letter, he looked over at his brother who was
busy staring back at him. He looked down and read the letter
again. Josh did the same.
	“Fuckin’ shit! Oh, fuckin’ shit!”
	“Christopher!” his mother shouted. “Watch your language!”
	“Sorry, mom,” the young teenager said, “but look. Just look what
it says! They want us to be on TV!”
	“Yeah, mom! TV!” Josh echoed his brother’s excitement, thrusting
his letter in front of his mother’s face.
	“Calm down, boys,” their mom said. “Let me see your letters.”
	She read them both, then handed them back.
	“Well?” the two boys asked in unison.
	“We need to talk about this as a family, guys. Let’s wait ‘til
your dad gets home. “
	“Are they for real?” Chris asked.
	“Yes, Chris, they are.”
	“Wow!”
	Eleven-year-old Josh started jumping around the kitchen, unable
to contain his excitement. “We’re gonna be TV stars!”

	Matthew Andrews pretty much had the same initial reaction to his
sons’ letters as the boys themselves did. The family celebrated
by ordering pizza. Lindsay Andrews however was a little worried.
“I just don’t understand why they’d pay us so much money to put
Chris and Josh on television, before the show is even on the air.
And I don’t think I like the title very much.”
	“Oh come on, Lin. The least we can do is hear whatever it is
they want.”
	“Says right here they’ll pay us, mom,” Chris said, pointing to
the number with all the zeroes after it. “How many is five with
six zeroes after it, dad?”
	“That’s five million dollars, sport.”
	“Freakin’ awesome.”
	“I get that much too, right?” Josh asked.
	“Sure do.”
	“What would we have to do?” Chris asked, shoving a piece of
pepperoni pizza into his mouth. From his limited experience with
the network’s programming, he had a vague idea that some
unpleasant things might happen to him if he agreed to be on the
new show.
	“That’s the question, boys,” their father said. “XB1 does some
pretty extreme stuff . . . “
	“Duh, dad!” Josh, always the family smart-ass replied. “Extreme
is like in their name.”
	“I mean they’d do extreme stuff to you,” their father said, “and
make you do things you probably won’t like. I’ve seen some of
their other shows, the ones you two aren’t allowed to watch. Come
to think of it, five million dollars each might not really be
enough. They’d do some pretty nasty things to you boys.”
	“But it’s so much money,” Chris said, “plus you get to keep some
of it right now, don’t you?”
	“That’s what it says, honey,” Lindsay Andrews replied.
       “You guys could . . . like . . . pay for the house and
stuff, right?”
       “With money to spare, sweetie,” his mom answered. “but
this isn’t about your dad and me.”
       “Sure it is, mom. Its about the whole family, you, dad, me
an Josh. It’s so much money,” Chris repeated for the fourth or
fifth time since the family’s debate began.
       “Look,” Matt Andrews told them, “it says if we’re
interested, we should call them and they’ll send someone out to
meet with us. We don’t have to decide until we talk to them and
find out what this is all about.”
	“Let’s call right now, dad, pleeeease,” Josh begged.
	“Chris, you’re the oldest,” their father said. “Why don’t you
call for yourself and your brother.”
	“Can I? Really?” It was such a grown-up thing to do, make the
call all by himself. Josh gave him a big smile. The
thirteen-year-old took a last gulp of Pepsi then got up and went
to the phone. A few moments later his family heard him talking to
the person at the other end of the line.
	“Hi. This is Christopher Andrews . . . yeah . . . you guys sent
me and my brother Josh a letter . . . yeah . . . yeah that’s us .
. . yeah I am a real good swimmer . . . you bet we are . . . okay
. . . when . . . tonight . . . uh, sure . . . hang on a sec, k?”
	Chris covered the receiver with his left hand. “They wanna send
a guy to see us tonight, all the way from New York City! Private
jet or somethin’ . . . can I say okay?”
	Mom and dad nodded slowly, a little concerned at how fast things
were moving. Josh was practically bursting. Chris turned back to
the phone. “Okay. My folks said it’s cool. Eight o’clock. Okay.
You guys need directions or somethin’? Okay. Bye.”
	“They’ll be here at eight,” Chris said, sitting back down and
taking another piece of pizza. He looked up at the clock. “Shit
it’s five-thirty now!”
	“Alright,” mom told them, “why don’t you both get showers and
put on some clean clothes.”
       Eleven-year-old Josh, who still believed baths and showers
should be optional, rolled his eyes. Mom scolded him gently.
“Don’t give me that look, mister. Besides, you want to make a
good impression, don’t you?”
	“Yes, mom,” the boy said as he followed his brother upstairs.

	The boys were dressed in cargo shorts and pullover shirts when
the doorbell rang. Both of them were barefoot. There was a large
Hummer parked in the family driveway. The man at the door was
young, in his early twenties to judge by appearance. He was
dressed business casual with a laptop and briefcase at his side.
It was Chris who got the door, and so unknowingly met for the
first time the man who would become his trainer on Gladiator
Island.
	“You must be Chris,” the man said with a smile. The five-foot
tall boy standing in front of him was even more attractive in
person than he was in his picture. The word cute definitely came
to mind and described Christopher Andrews perfectly. “My name is
Jason Sanborne. Extreme Action Broadcasting. I’ve got a business
card here somewhere. May I come in?”
	“Yes, sir,” Chris said enthusiastically. The boy offered to take
one of the cases from the man’s hands, but was politely refused.
The thirteen-year-old led their visitor into the living room to
introduce him to the family. Along the way Jason Sanborne enjoyed
the view of the trim athletic young teenager in his beige shorts.
The boy’s calves were fantastic. His bare boy-feet were adorable.
His little butt covered in light summery cotton was a thing of
almost poetic beauty.
	“Everybody, this is Jason,” Chris said, trying to sound as
grown-up as possible. The man set his briefcase and laptop on the
coffee table and met the parents of the two Andrews boys for the
first time. “And last but not least this must be Josh,” Sanborne
said when the sandy-haired four-and-a-half-foot-high
eleven-year-old offered his small hand. “Pleased to met you,
young man.”
	Jason Sanborne was in fact very pleased. Chris Andrews’
eleven-year-old brother was every bit as cute as the older boy,
with a pair of the deepest darkest brown eyes the man had ever
seen.
	The two Andrews boys were going to be stars. If he could
convince their parents to let their sons become boy gladiators.
	Sanborne removed several folders from his briefcase and set up
the laptop. “Shall we get down to business then?” he asked in a
friendly tone, his eyes casually wandering over the slim bodies
and handsome faces of the two young brothers.
	“Your letter has us all very excited,” Lindsay Andrews said. “It
all seems too good to be true.”
	“Oh, it is all quite true. We’re looking for ten strong, smart,
athletic boys for our newest program.”
       “What exactly is the program about?” the boy’s father
asked, not trying to sound too interested.
       “Well as you know, we are calling the show ‘Worldwide Boy
Gladiators’. I believe that name probably speaks for itself. It
is certainly meant to. I can only assume you are familiar with
some of our other programs. This one will make them all seem
rather dull in comparison.”
       Matthew and Lindsay Andrews were much more aware of the
content and extreme nature of some of XB1’s programming than
their thirteen and eleven-year-old sons. The thought of willingly
allowing their precious boys to be involved in something so
potentially traumatic was certainly troubling to them. But the
money being offered would secure a wealthy future for Chris and
Josh and help pay off all the family’s mounting debts, which were
beginning to become a real problem. In fact, just a few weeks
ago, Matt and Lindsay had sat up half the night arguing. Matthew
had gently raised the possibility of selling one of the boys into
slavery.
       Lindsay went ballistic at first and threatened to leave
and take the boys with her. Matthew calmed her down.
       ‘Just hear me out, Lin. It is something we might have to
consider. Other parents do it. The Wildesins down the street sold
Timothy last summer.’
       ‘I never liked that boy anyway,’ Lin confessed, ‘but still
its horrible. Do you know the kind of things they do to boy
slaves?’
       ‘I do. I also know we’re in way over our heads. If the
government steps in, they’ll take both boys from us.’
       ‘Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that . . . ‘
       And so the conversation went on while their two sons slept
blissfully in their beds down the hall. Now a man from one of the
biggest and richest media companies in the world was sitting in
their living room offering them enough money to never have to
worry again. They looked at their boys for a moment, ushering
away the thoughts of what might befall them should they agree to
take the money. They then returned their attention to Jason
Sanborne in his casual shirt and tie.
       “We’ve done extensive research for the past two months and
your sons appear to meet all of our physical requirements. They
both fall within the right height and weight range for their
ages, and, to be quite frank, they are very attractive boys. I
won’t pretend it is not a major criterion for selection.
Good-looking boys draw viewers. But mostly we need boys who are
champion athletes. Boys who like to win at all costs. You are
both good athletes, right?”
	“Yes, sir,” the boys answered in unison.
	“Good. That’s why we want you. I’ve brought two contracts with
me with your names on them. If you agree to participate, you’ll
be competing in all sorts of events. Some will be familiar, like
swimming and wrestling . . . “
       “That’s what we’re best at,” Chris interrupted, boasting
on behalf of himself and his brother.
       Jason smiled at the cute teenaged boy. “I’m glad to hear
it, but that’s just the start, boys. There will be other events
you can’t even imagine. Things you probably would not consider
sports at all. We’ll be testing your strength, your speed, your
endurance, your intelligence. I won’t lie to you. It’s not going
to be easy, and most of the time it’s not going to be fun. You’ll
have to do things you never thought you could do. Things you
probably won’t want to do. But you will do them. You won’t have a
choice. We’re going to push your bodies to their limits, and when
you think you can’t take any more, it will get even worse. You
will not be allowed to stop or quit. Not even for a moment.”
       “We’re not quitters,” Josh said strongly.
       “They wouldn’t have sent me here if we thought you were,
young man. Now if you boys will stop interrupting and let me
continue.”
“Sorry, sir,” the brothers said, Christopher’s adolescent tenor
mixing sweetly with Josh’s
high unbroken boy soprano.
 	“If you agree to participate, there will be no backing out. You
will live on Gladiator Island with the other boys and your
trainers. You boys cannot quit or go home. And you, mom and dad,
may not remove them from our custody once the contract is signed.
And I must tell you we expect a long-term commitment. Simply put,
Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, the corporation needs your sons, and we are
prepared to pay handsomely for them.”
	Matthew sat back on the sofa and looked over at Chris and Josh.
The expression on his oldest son’s face told him that the
thirteen-year-old vaguely understood Mr. Sanborne’s meaning.
Young Josh on the other hand seemed not to have been paying a
whole lot of attention at all. “Mr. Sanborne,” the boys’ father
asked, “are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
	“I am,” Sanborne replied, at last flipping open the two folders
he’d laid out previously. “And for the money being offered, I
think you’ll agree the price is fair. If you want your sons to
participate, you and the boys must sign a contract of indenture.
The boys will become the property of the corporation up to and
until their sixteenth birthday, at which time the indenture may
be canceled or transferred to a third party at your discretion.
The indenture is irreversible and non-negotiable. We would own
all rights to your sons.”
	Chris definitely got it at this point. “Fuckin’ shit! You mean
we’d be . . . like . . . slaves or something!
	“That is exactly what I mean, Chris. And there would be no
something about it. You and Josh would be slaves. The corporation
would own you and you would be our property. You would forfeit
all your personal and physical rights. You will be kept on
Gladiator Island and you will participate in the program until
your indenture expires when you turn sixteen. That means we’d own
you for three years, Chris. In fact, I’d be your trainer, if you
and your parents sign the indenture. Josh, you’d be a slave on
the island for five years.”
	“Don’t sell me, dad! Please!’ Josh burst into tears. Every boy
in his sixth grade class had recently taken a trip to one of the
state’s five slave processing centers, where boys his own age and
even younger were being readied for their new lives as slaves.
Juvenile criminals, boys whose parents were simply too poor to
raise them or too greedy to care, third and fourth and fifth sons
whose existence was now illegal due to strict population laws.
They all ended up as slaves. There were girl slaves too, but very
few. It was almost always boys. No one even knew how many boy
slaves there were right now, but Josh knew he did not want to be
one of them, not even for five million dollars.
	“I will remind you, it is only an indenture,” Sanborne said to
calm the anxious parents. “You will get your sons back, and they
will be millionaires. They will be worked very hard during their
time on the island, but once they’re freed, they will never have
to work again.”
It was Chris who sat forward, his hands on his knees, his eyes
dancing. “It really doesn’t
sound that bad, guys. I mean it’ll suck to be a slave an all
that, but like he said it’s not forever. Come on, Joshie, we’ll
be rich, totally filthy stinkin’ rich. All we gotta do is go to
this island and live there for a few years. Plus we’ll be on TV.
Everybody will know who we are, won’t they Mr. Sanborne?”
	“They certainly will. Weekly viewership is projected at close to
thirty-six percent saturation. You boys will be quite famous.”
	“But they’ll be slaves,” their mother said sadly. What a
horrible choice had been laid before them. A horrible, tempting,
terrible, alluring choice. So much money. It would start as five
million, but it would be kept in trust, invested by XB1’s own
financial wizards. By the time Chris was sixteen in three years,
he could maybe have twenty or twenty-five million. And Josh, he
was only eleven, he’d have to be a slave for five years, but how
much money might he end up with when he was freed? A lifetime of
security for her two boys. What more could any mother wish for.
But what price would they have to pay, living as slaves on that
island, the whole world watching horrible things being done to
them week after week.
	“I don’t need your decision tonight,” Jason Sanborne said. “You
can have forty-eight hours.”
	Chris stood up and looked at his parents. “I’ll do it. I’ll sign
the thing right now. Let me do it, guys.”
	“Chris, honey,” the thirteen-year-old’s mother said, “once we
sign that paper, you can’t take it back. You’ll be a slave until
you’re sixteen.”
	“Dad?” Chris turned to his father. Jason Sanborne sat back
quietly enjoying the drama of this family about to willingly sell
at least one of their sons into slavery.
 	“Five million is a lot of money, Lindsay.”
	“Matthew! I can’t believe you’re making this about money. Do you
really want to see your son on that awful show?”
	“Somebody’s son is going to be. Why not Chris?”
	“Yeah, mom. Come on. Let me do it. I’ll sign the paper right
now.”
	Josh stared up at his brother. Chris was so brave and so cool.
He wasn’t going to let him go away and leave him behind. “If
Chris signs it, I’ll sign it,” he said. Lindsay stared at her
youngest in pity and horror. Chris clapped his brother on the
back. “That’s right, squirt, you and me.”
	“What do you say, Lin?” their father asked. “I’ll sign, if
that’s really what the boys want.”
	Lindsay stood up and drew first Chris then Josh into her arms.
“Are you boys sure this is what you want to do?”
	The two young brothers nodded. Jason Sanborne drew a black pen
from his shirt pocket and held it to Chris. “This is your file,
Chris. Sign the last page. Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, you’ll need to
sign below your son’s signature. Then we’ll take care of Josh’s
indenture. Since he’s under twelve it’s a little more detailed,
but it will be equally binding.”
	Ten minutes later it was done. Jason closed the files and
returned them to his briefcase.  He did not close the case but
instead pulled out a slim card-sized digital camera. “Before we
finish here, I need to take some photographs of you both for our
official records. Take off your clothes.”
	Chris and Josh both stared open-mouthed at Jason Sanborne, not
sure they heard him correctly.
	“You two are now slaves. Slaves do exactly as they are told. Now
take off your clothes.”
	“Right here, in front of mom?” Josh asked, already blushing.
	Jason smiled at the boy’s modesty. “Mom, dad, perhaps if you
were to go into another room this would be easier.”
	“Sure,” Matthew said, dragging his wife into the kitchen.
	“Okay, boys, I gave you a break. Now strip.”
	Chris and Josh slowly pulled off their shirts, revealing their
slim, muscular, well-tanned torsos. Chris was already shaped like
a young man. Josh still had some of the softer curves of a little
boy, but he was every bit as lean and athletic as his older
brother.
       Sharing a nervous glance, the boys then lowered their
cargo shorts. Chris was wearing black boxer-briefs, Josh had
oversized boxers with cartoon characters on them.
	“Underpants too, boys. You’ll be kept naked on the island, so
you’d better start getting used to it.”
	Josh looked at Chris and Chris looked at Josh. Neither boy was
too happy about that last piece of information. Josh was
particularly upset. Like most eleven-year-olds he was very
modest. He wouldn’t even let his mom see him in his underwear. In
fact the only person who’d seen him without his clothes on in the
last three years was his big brother.
	“Let’s just get it over with, Josh,” Chris said, digging his
fingers under his waistband and pulling down his underwear in a
swift graceful motion. Spurred on by his older brother’s courage,
Josh did the same. The two boys stood naked in their own living
room. Jason Sanborne looked on, pleased with what he saw.
	Thirteen-year-old Christopher was slender, with nice shapely
thighs, lean arms and a tight muscular abdomen. His chest was
developing nicely, his pectoral muscles beginning to define
themselves. His small dime-sized boy-nipples had been tanned a
pleasant brown from exposure to the sun. He had a sparse patch of
wispy blond pubic hair just above his penis. Aside from that he
was still completely smooth and hairless. Jason paused at the
boy’s genitals. Chris’ penis was quite impressive for a boy his
age. Uncircumcised and about four inches long. His balls were big
and heavy and hung down surprisingly low in his pink hairless
scrotum.
	Eleven-year-old Joshua was a nearly perfect copy of his older
brother in miniature. He was of course completely hairless, but
the great surprise was that his penis was nearly as big as his
brother’s, a long thick sausage dangling between the
eleven-year-old’s slim legs. His balls, though noticeably
smaller, hung every bit as low as Christopher’s did, swinging
back and forth between the eleven-year-old’s smooth shapely
thighs.
	Chris, in spite of his nice endowment, seemed to be a little
embarrassed, standing next to his little brother whose cock was
in actuality only 1/8 of an inch shorter than his own. Sanborne
made no particular comment about either boy, although he was
greatly impressed at how beautiful they were and what perfect
slaves they were going to be. And Joshua’s oversized penis was
certain to make him a big hit with the viewers.
	“You first, Chris. Put your hands behind your head.”
	Chris did as he was told. To his horror, he felt his penis
slowly starting to harden. By the time Sanborne had finished
taking the pictures, his four-inch dick had grown to a full
six-inch erection.
	 Josh went next, bravely copying his brother’s pose. His penis
too managed to erect itself, reaching an impressive five and ¾
inches.
	“I see we’re going to have to train those penises of yours not
to get hard unless you’re told to,” Jason said to them quietly.
“We have some very strict rules on the island, but you’ll learn
all about that on Friday. Josh, you can call your parents back
in.”
	“Can we get dressed again?” Chris asked.
	“Josh can. You can’t until tomorrow morning. I’m your trainer so
we might as well get a head start. I want you to get used to
being naked. You won’t be wearing regular clothes again for a
very long time.”
	Chris blushed and shivered, but made no attempt to retrieve his
clothes. His mom and dad both noticed that he was still nude
while Josh was back in his shorts and shirt. They also noticed
their thirteen-year-old son was having an erection. They didn’t
ask, and Chris chose not to talk about it. He just stood there
with his hard dick bobbing up and down. Jason shook both Matthew
and Lindsay’s hands, then he turned to address Chris and Josh.
“You two are now slaves. I am allowing you to stay with your
parents for the rest of the week. You are not allowed to leave
this house. You will keep yourselves clean. Mr. and Mrs. Andrews,
as Christopher’s trainer I have given him orders to remain naked
until the morning. He is not allowed to cover himself with his
hands or anything else. That means no sheets or blankets tonight
on his bed. Please see that he obeys my orders. We’ll be sending
a collection team for them on Friday morning. I’m leaving them
each a copy of the basic rules we’ll be expecting them to follow
once they reach the island. See that they read them and start to
memorize them. You have a lovely home. It has been a pleasure.
Boys, I’m looking forward to seeing you on the island.”

Chapter 3:

	Eleven-year-old Josh had a great time teasing Chris for having
to remain naked for the rest of the evening, taking it upon
himself to point out to everyone whenever the thirteen-year-old’s
penis showed even the slightest signs of becoming erect.
	“Chris is getting a boner again, mom,” became the high-pitched
giggling refrain that echoed through the house that whole
evening.
	“Shut up, Josh. Jason said I had to be naked. He didn’t say
anything about my dick.”
	“Don’t yell at your brother, young man,” their mom said.
	Were it not for the fact that their eldest son was nude, and
that both of the boys were now legally considered slaves, it
would have been just another normal night in the Andrews house,
with two brothers teasing and taunting and tormenting each other.
It was summer, so the boys didn’t have a set bedtime. Their
father had retired around eleven-thirty. It was past midnight
when Lindsay kissed her boys goodnight, trying not to think about
the fact that she had only three days of goodnight kisses left
before they were taken away.
	“Make sure you two start studying those rules,” she admonished
them before going upstairs.
	With their parents both asleep, the brothers sat together on the
couch, Chris naked, laying back, his hairless legs spread, his
four-inch penis dangling soft over his big thirteen-year-old boy
balls which rested upon the cushion. Josh had stripped down to
just his boxers. His hand absent-mindedly found its way inside
his shorts and he fiddled with himself as he watched TV, enjoying
the tight feeling of his throbbing not-quite-six-inch erection.
Soon that weird tingly feeling started to build up in his balls.
He rubbed his boy-cock even faster until he gasped and cried out
and his entire body writhed with a powerful dry orgasm. Josh lay
his head back on the couch, exhausted from his latest effort.
	Chris smiled at his eleven-year-old brother and leisurely
stroked his own penis. He got hard almost immediately, but he
didn’t want to make a mess in the living room. He decided to wait
until he was in his bed, then he’d jerk off as hard and fast as
he could. With is erection still pointing up toward his belly,
Chris picked up the paper Jason Sanborne had left him. “Guess we
should read these, Josh.”
	“Yeah, guess so.”
	The boys took turns reading each rule on the list. There were
ten of them. This is what they read:
	Chris: “You will address every adult on the island as ‘sir’ or
‘ma’am’.”
	Josh: “You will be naked at all times unless your trainer gives
you clothes to wear.”
Chris: “You will obey every order given to you and participate in
every activity you are
assigned to.”
	Josh: “You will not speak unless you are spoken to, except when
you are in your barracks. Then you may speak quietly with the
other boys.”
	Chris: “You will not touch your genitals or the genitals of
another boy for any reason, at any time, unless you are told to
by your trainer.”
	Josh: “If you think you are in danger of being injured, you will
tell the nearest trainer immediately. He or she will decide if
you can continue.”
	Chris: “You will eat only the food that is given to you each
day. You will not share food with other boys and you will not eat
food from the staff cafeteria.”
	Josh: “You will go to the bathroom only at your assigned times.”
	
	“Wow,” Chris said after they’d finished. “Some of those rules
really suck.”
	“Yeah.”
	The two boys were suddenly very quiet and very subdued as the
monumental weight of their decision began to set in. They were
slaves. They were going to be treated like slaves. They were
going to an island someplace they didn’t even know where. They
would be boy gladiators.
	“Think we’ll have to fight each other, Chris?” Josh asked.
	“Probably. I’ll try not to kick your ass to hard.”
	“Thanks.”
	The two boys went upstairs around one in the morning. Josh
crawled into his bed right away. Chris noticed that his parents
had stripped his bed of its sheets and blankets, just as Jason
Sandborne had ordered. Chris would have to sleep naked with no
covering for his lean hairless body.
	“Good thing its summer, or I’d freeze my balls off,” the young
teenager said. Josh laughed, quite happy it was his brother who
had to be naked and not him.
	Josh rolled over onto his stomach and was asleep in a matter of
minutes. Chris turned down the lamp beside his bed, lay on his
back, spread his perfect thirteen-year-old legs and jerked
himself off, sliding his left hand frantically over the length of
his six-inch erection. He paid special attention to his foreskin,
pulling it all the way up over the tip of his cock, then skinning
it all the way down his shaft. He loved that tight wonderful
feeling. It wasn’t long before the feeling started, deep inside
him. Carefully, slowly, as he’d done for the last few months, he
inserted a single finger into his butt. His cock got even harder.
In the dim light of the lamp the boy could see the tip of it was
wet and oozing with sticky clear fluid.
	“Oh yeah,” he whispered to himself as his balls drew up toward
his groin. “Ugh, fuck . . . ooohh.” Chris shot his thin sperm in
violent bursts onto his tight muscular stomach. It had never felt
so good. To his surprise, the boy discovered he’d put a second
finger into his rear end. He didn't remember doing it. “Damn,” he
said quietly, grabbing a handful of tissue and cleaning the
sticky mess off his body. “I’m gonna bust something if I keep
doing that.”
	But then again he hadn’t busted anything yet in two years and
counting of twice-daily jerk-off sessions. One during his morning
shower. One at night right before bed, after Josh had fallen
asleep. With his head still swimming, Chris fell asleep on his
back, snoring softly, the lamp still glowing on its lowest
setting.

	In the morning, Chris woke up first, as always, and roused his
little brother. Josh opened his eyes to see Chris standing over
him naked, his four-inch cock swinging back and forth as his big
brother moved around.
	“You still gotta be naked?” the eleven-year-old asked, yawning.
	“I guess.”
	Josh got out of bed, pulled off his boxers and trotted naked
over to his dresser. He picked out a clean pair of underpants,
silky blue soccer shorts and a tank-top. His cock was as stiff as
a nail, but Josh didn’t pay much attention to it. “See ya
downstairs, bro!” he said as he tore out of the room they’d
shared all their lives.
	Chris puttered around for a while, kind of enjoying the way it
felt to be naked. He turned on his computer and played a video
games for a while until Josh’s high voice shouted to him from the
bottom of the stairs. “Mom says you’d better get down here for
breakfast before its gone.”
	Chris then realized he was really hungry. He hurried downstairs,
quite forgetting he was still in his birthday suit.
	“Well, I see my naked son has survived the night,” his mom said.
	Chris blushed and sat down to a big plate of pancakes. The phone
rang a few minutes later. His mom answered it.
	“Its Jason Sanborne, Chris.”
	Chris took the phone and tried to remember how he was supposed
to address his trainer. “Hello, sir,” he said quietly.
	“Good morning, Christopher. Are you naked?”
	“Yes, sir. I’m naked. Just hangin’ around, you know.”
	Sanborne laughed on the other end of the line. “You can put on
shorts and a T-shirt today. No underwear. I will be calling you
every morning until Friday and instructing you on what to wear.
After you’ve eaten your dinner tonight, you will take off all
your clothes and spend the rest of the night naked, just like
last night. Oh, and one more thing. You are not allowed to
masturbate. Do you understand?”
	“Yes, sir.”
	“Good. Have you and your brother read the rules I left for you?”
	“Yes, sir.”
	“Do either of you have any questions?”
	“Not right now, sir. Some of them seem kinda scary.”
	“They’re meant to. You aren’t free boys anymore. You and Josh
are slaves. The sooner you start to think like a slave, the
better off you’ll be.”
	“Yes, sir.”
	“Hang up the phone and repeat my instructions for today to your
mother.”
	Chris did exactly as he was told. Josh giggled at the thought of
his big brother having to be naked again after dinner.
	“Shut up, squirt.”

	Thursday evening, the Andrews boys last night at home, came
quickly. Chris spent it naked. Thankfully his penis only got
erect twice, and both times when his mom wasn’t around. The
family ate a quiet meal. There really wasn’t much to say. Their
mother was trying her best not to cry. Josh and Chris were trying
to be brave for her. The boys had nothing to pack. They were told
they were not allowed to bring any personal possessions with
them. Just after eleven o’clock, the boys marched upstairs to
brush their teeth. It was time for bed. The last night they would
spend in their own beds, in their own room, in their own home
until they turned sixteen. Chris realized he would not be coming
back for three years, and Josh . . . Josh would have to be a
slave for five years. He would be left behind on the island when
Chris was freed.
	“At least we don’t have’ta go to school anymore,” Josh observed
as he crawled under his covers.
	“Yeah, that’s totally cool. I never really thought about it. I
mean, by time we’re free, we’ll be so rich it won’t matter. Fuck
school!” the young teenager shouted joyfully.
       “Yeah! Fuck it!” Josh shouted. Any time Chris used a
naughty word, young Josh took it as free license to do the same.
       Naked, Chris lay atop his bed, his hands behind his head,
staring up at the ceiling, his tight, slim, muscular
thirteen-year-old swimmer’s body stretched out in front of him.
He looked down at himself, at his cute little bush of blond pubic
hair and his soft uncut penis resting over his balls. He wiggled
his boy-toes and took a deep breath. He suddenly realized his
heart was pounding in his chest. He knew he wasn’t going to be
getting much sleep tonight. Tomorrow their new lives would begin,
and he had only the faintest idea what would happen to them. “Are
you scared about tomorrow, Josh?”
	“Kinda. Are you?”
	“Yeah. Maybe we shouldn’t have signed the contracts.”
	“Yeah.”
	Their mom came in. Chris brought his trim muscular legs together
and drew his knees up, trying to conceal his genitals from his
mother. It wasn’t that he was particularly shy. He was getting
used to be naked. It just seemed wrong to be lying flat on your
back with your half-hard wiener hanging out when your mom was
around.
	“One last goodnight kiss, babies,” she said sadly, kissing each
of her boys on the forehead. “I’ll get you up early tomorrow.
They’ll be coming to get you sometime around ten.”
	“Okay, mom,” Josh said.
	“We’re ready,” Chris added bravely. Lindsay Andrews gazed at her
eldest son.
	“Chris, I want you to promise me you’ll behave yourself. Do
everything you’re told and don’t cause trouble.”
	“I will, mom.”
	“And promise me you’ll look after your brother. Take care of
him, okay?”
	“I will, mom. I won’t let anything happen to Josh, don’t worry.”
Chris of course did not realize how utterly powerless he would be
to protect his little brother when their new lives began on the
island. Or how powerless he would be to protect himself.

	Friday morning came. The boys’ parents woke them up at seven.
Chris and Josh showered and put on the same shorts and shirts
they’d worn when Jason Sanborne had visited earlier in the week.
	At exactly ten o’clock, a white van pulled into the driveway.
Two men in business suits stepped out and walked quickly to the
front door.
	“Mr. Andrews?” one of the men inquired.
	“Yes.”
	“Mitchell Harwell. XB1Corporate Security.” The man produced a
business card verifying his identification. “I’ve come to take
Christopher and Joshua Andrews into custody in accordance with
the contracts of indenture signed August 12, 2039. Are they
ready?”
	“They are, Mr. Harwell. Please come in.”
	Matthew Andrews escorted Mr. Harwell and his assistant into the
living room. Chris and Josh stood up immediately.
	“Good morning, boys,” Harwell addressed them, shaking both their
hands. “I’m here to escort you on the first part of your journey
to Gladiator Island. Are you excited about your little
adventure?”
	“Yes, sir,” the brothers said in unison.
	Harwell nodded. “Good. Now I need you both to listen carefully.
There are a few rules you must follow once we leave this house.
You are officially slaves as of this moment. That means you must
do exactly as you are told, do you understand?”
	“Yes, sir,” Chris said in his soft pubescent voice.
	“Yes, sir,” Josh said in his high pre-teen voice.
	“Neither of you are allowed to speak unless you are addressed
directly by me, or one of my aides. If you must ask a question,
you will raise your hand.”
	The boys nodded that they understood.
	“You will be sedated for this first part of the journey. Do you
know what that means?”
	Chris shook his head yes. Josh shook his head no.
	“Christopher, please explain it to your brother.”
	“Yes, sir,” Chris said, then turned to Josh and told him. “He
means they’re going to give us a pill, or something, to make us
feel sleepy.”
	“Oh,” was Josh’s only response.
	“It simply makes the transition to your new lives easier. But
before we give you your injections, we have to get you properly
dressed for the trip. Strip.”
       The boys quickly obeyed. They’d already stripped for Jason
Sanborne, so it wasn’t anything new for them. It didn’t make it
any less embarrassing though, having to take your clothes off in
front of total strangers and your parents. Harwell however did
not seem like a very patient man. Chris and Josh were down to
their boxers in a hurry, exhibiting their tanned, tight, slender
young bodies. They looked at each other, and slid their last
remaining source of modesty down their slim hips.
        The boys’ parents looked on helpless as their sons were
made to remove their clothes in the family living room for the
second time in a week. It marked the last time Chris would wear
normal clothing for the next three years. For eleven-year-old
Josh it would be five years. Once the boys were naked, Harwell
addressed them again.
       “Put your hands behind your heads.”
The young brothers obeyed. Harwell was very impressed at the
slender, athletic, hairless
young bodies now on display. He noticed the older boy had the
sparse beginnings of pubic hair above his four-inch long penis.
Both boys were uncircumcised and very well endowed, especially
eleven-year-old Josh, whose penis was already nearly as long and
thick as his teenaged brother’s.
“As you are now slaves, you will be attired accordingly. If you
are taken from Gladiator
Island for any reason, you will have a uniform to wear at all
times.”
       “We get to leave the island sometimes?” Josh asked. “Like
go home ‘n stuff?”
       The company security man smiled at the two boys. “You
won’t be allowed to go home until your indentures expire. You
will, from time to time, be taken from the island for various
public events sponsored by the company.”
	Harwell’s assistant handed him two paper-bound packages, which
Harwell in turn gave to Chris and Josh. “Open them and put on the
clothes you find inside.”
	The clothes they found consisted simply of a gray sleeveless
tunic and a pair of white shorts. Chris was the first to put his
on, and he was sure he’d gotten Josh’s by mistake. The tunic
ended just above his navel. And the white shorts were very, very
short, and very, very tight, making his penis and testicles bulge
out in front of him in a rather obscene way. When he looked over
and Josh though, he saw that his younger brother’s tunic also
came to an abrupt end above the boy’s outtie-style belly button,
and that Josh’s shorts were every bit as short and tight as his
own. The shorts made the four-and-one-half-foot tall boy’s rather
oversized genitals appear almost comically large as they bulged
out in front of him. For the most part, Josh was unaware of just
how big his penis was compared to other eleven-year-olds, but he
did look down at his boyhood package jutting out so prominently
in front of his shorts and giggle in his innocent boyish way.
	Each boy was then given a pair of shoes, plain simple white
trainers. The boys never wore socks anyway, so they did not think
to miss them.
	It was humiliating, being forced to wear the tunics and those
small tight shorts. Chris and Josh were both blushing fiercely.
They certainly didn’t want their parents to see them like this.
	“Say your final good-byes, boys. You have two minutes. Come out
to the van when you are done. Do not make us come back in for
you.”
	Chris and Josh hugged their mom and shook their dad’s hand.
	“Be good, guys,” Matt Andrews said. “Be brave. Be safe.”
	“We will, dad.”
	“Remember your promise, Christopher,” his mom added, holding
back tears.
	“I will, mom.”
	Chris looked around his house one last time, then turned to his
younger brother. “Ready, Josh?”
	“Yeah.”
	Clad in their slave tunics and their embarrassingly small white
shorts, the Andrews boys left the house and walked quickly down
the driveway. It was just after eleven in the morning. There were
neighbors out and about, and more than a few of them stopped
whatever they were doing when they saw the two boys in their
scant skimpy uniforms. The back door of the van was open, and at
Harwell’s instructions the boys climbed in. What they saw when
they got inside made them both shiver. Their new lives had taken
an immediate and frightening and unexpected turn. Christopher
took in a sharp breath. Josh’s brown eyes widened. On the floor
of the van there were the two iron cages placed side-by-side.
	“Crawl inside, boys,” Harwell ordered.
	It was too late to go back now. Chris and Josh had signed the
indentures themselves. Their parents had signed them too. The
boys knew they had no choice. Chris was the first to get down on
his hands and knees. Josh quickly followed. The brothers crawled
into the small cages. Harwell closed them and his assistant
clicked heavy padlocks in place over the latches.
       Harwell double-checked the locks, pulling on the doors of
the boys’ cages. “Give me your arm, Chris,” he then demanded.
	Chris fished his slender arm between the thick iron bars. His
eyes widened when he saw Harwell draw a sharp needle and syringe
from a leather case. The man jabbed the boy’s arm and injected
the sedative. Ten seconds later, the thirteen-year-old’s head was
already spinning. Thirty seconds after that, he had a mild
drug-induced seizure and slipped into unconsciousness.
	Poor Josh had watched the whole thing and panicked when Harwell
stood in front of his cage.
	“You ain’t stickin’ me with that,” Josh shouted, backing away as
far as he could. “You killed him! You killed Chris!”
	Harwell smiled warmly. “I did no such thing. I merely put him to
sleep for a while. And now I’m going to do the same to you. If
you make me pull your arm out of that cage, I promise you I will
break it.”
	Josh wiped the tears from his eyes. Chris rolled over onto his
side and moaned softly in his sleep. That evidence that his big
brother was indeed still alive seemed to calm the pre-teen. He
bravely stuck his arm between the bars and received his
injection, a considerably larger dose than his brother had been
given. Josh’s seizure was sudden and violent and lasted for
almost a full minute before he finally succumbed and passed out.
Harwell reached through the bars, wiped the fluid from the boy’s
mouth and with surprising tenderness rolled the little
eleven-year-old onto his side.
	The van backed out of the driveway and slowly drove off,
carrying Chris and Josh Andrews toward their harsh new lives as
boy gladiators.

Chapter 4:
	
	When Chris finally regained consciousness, he was still in the
cage, but the cage was no longer in the van. His bleary blue eyes
fluttered for a few moments and he slowly began to move his body.
The cage he was in was small, but he discovered he could roll
over and get up on his hands and knees. He stayed that way for a
while, looking out through the iron bars. What he saw made him
rather nervous.
       He was in a very large room, like a big warehouse or
something. There were about thirty people walking around,
carrying bags and boxes and talking and walking right by him as
if it was perfectly normal to see a thirteen-year-old boy locked
inside a cage. Most of the boxes had the XB1 logo on them, and
they were being loaded onto carts. Chris couldn’t turn around to
see what was behind him, but he could turn his head right and
left. That’s when he saw Josh.
       His eleven-year-old brother was also in a cage, just a few
feet to the right of the one he was in. Josh was awake too and
had managed to sit up inside the cage, drawing his bare legs up
to his chest and hugging his arms around his knees. The boys’
cages were the same size, and since Josh was considerably smaller
than his brother, he had more freedom of movement. Josh realized
his brother was awake and looked over at him. The younger boy was
scared but trying hard not to let it show, especially in front of
Chris.
       “Hey,” Chris said groggily, his head still foggy.
       “Hey,” Josh replied.
       “You okay?”
       “Yeah. I gotta pee real bad. I keep tellin’ them I gotta
go but they won’t let me out.”
       Chris suddenly realized he had to piss too. His penis was
fully erect inside the tight white shorts they made him wear. The
boy often wondered why he always woke up with a boner and a
burning need to pee. He always drained himself right before bed,
but it never helped.  “I guess we just have to hold it,” he said
to his brother.
       Josh nodded. Of course his bladder was smaller and younger
than his brother’s by two and a half years. ‘Holding it’ wasn’t
going to be a viable option for him for too much longer.
       “Why are we in these cages, Chris? We said we’d do it . .
. I mean go to the island and stuff . . . why won’t they let us
out?”
       “Because you’re boy gladiators,” came a voice from behind.
It was a man in an expensive suit. He came around and stopped in
front of the boys’ cages. He had a goatee with a few
distinguished flecks of gray in it and dark commanding eyes that
made both boys shrink away from him. “You are both slaves, and
slaves travel in cages just like animals do. I have spent a great
deal of money for you and I will not have you running amok in my
hangar or on my plane. Now I believe Mr. Harwell had already
explained that you are not allowed to talk. Therefore you have
both already broken one of the rules. One of you is going to be
punished. Right now. Tell me which one it should be.”
       The man, of course, was William Durand, owner and CEO of
Extreme Action Broadcasting, and also, ultimately, the owner of
young Christopher and Joshua Andrews. He stared down at his
newest pieces of property, enjoying the sight of two
provocatively clad boys locked in cages. And they were property.
The moment their boyish signatures were affixed to the indentures
the Andrews boys ceased to be human beings. They had no rights,
no freedom. In the eyes of society they were now merely animals,
pets perhaps, though the average family dog was given far kinder
treatment than these boys would be receiving for the next few
years.
	“Well, boys? Who will it be? If I have to choose one of you, it
will go far worse for the one who is chosen.”
	Chris looked at Josh and Josh looked at Chris. Thirteen-year-old
Chris knew what he had to do. He was not going to let his little
brother get punished, just for talking.
	“Its me, sir,” the young teenager said, his voice choosing that
moment to break awkwardly and rise a full octave.
	Josh breathed a sigh of relief.
	Durand summoned one of the uniformed security guards over.
“Unlock this cage,” he ordered, pointing to the cage in which
Chris was confined. The guard quickly found the correct key and
swung the cage door open. Chris had no choice but to crawl out on
his hands and knees.
	“Stand up.”
	Chris obeyed immediately.
	Durand had a chair brought over by another guard and took a seat
in front of the thirteen-year-old boy.
	“Take your pants off, Chris.”
	“Yes, sir,” the boy replied, shaking. It made him uncomfortable
for some reason to hear this complete stranger using his name.
Chris skinned the tight shorts off his hips and down his legs,
stepping out of them in a graceful motion. His four-inch long
cock flopped about and his hairless low-hanging balls swung from
side to side between his legs as he did so. When he stood up
again, he clasped his hands over his genitals.
	“We’ll have none of that, Chris,” Durand said. “You are not to
cover your genitals, and you are never allowed to touch them
without permission. You’ll be getting an additional punishment
for that. Put your hands behind your head.”
	Chris was about to die from embarrassment. His state of undress
was totally humiliating for the young teenaged boy. There he was
in just a short gray tunic that didn’t even come down over his
navel, his middle was totally naked and exposed, and his feet
were still in his white Reebok trainers.
	Durand said nothing for a few moments, just sat there staring at
the cute thirteen-year-old boy on display. “You’ve got a nice big
cock there, don’t you, Chris?”
	“I . . . I guess so,” Chris replied. In fact he knew his penis
was maybe a little longer than most boys his age. Being on his
community swimming team he had seen lots of young dicks hidden
behind tight speedos, and his always seemed to be one of the
biggest. It certainly wasn’t huge though. Just a nice long thick
teenaged boy-cock, in perfect proportion to his lean smooth
hairless body. It twitched a little as it dangled soft between
his legs. Chris could feel it starting to swell as the man
continued to stare at him. When the young teen’s penis was
semi-erect, Durand stood up.
	“Turn around.”
	“Yes, sir.” Chris turned quickly, showing Durand his perfect
little butt.
	“Bend over and grab your ankles.”
	“Yes, sir.”
	Chris bent at his waist and gripped his hands around his ankles.
It was a horrible, humiliating position. He knew his ass was on
display to anyone who wanted to see it, and there was, by now, a
sizeable crowd gathering around the two cages. The boy stood
there, his balls dangling low between his legs, the tip of his
penis was just visible to Durand as the man stood behind the slim
boy.
	“Keep your feet still,” Durand warned. He raised his hand and
brought it down hard on the boy’s butt.
	Chris yelped in protest and stood up, craning his neck back and
glaring at the man. “Ouch, that hurt!”
	“You’ve never been spanked before?” Durand asked.
	“No, sir! Never!”
	“Well this will be a new experience for you then, won’t it? I
can promise you it won’t be the last spanking you receive over
the next three years. Now stand still. Don’t make me have you
restrained.”
	The spanking was horrible. Chris was staggered with each heavy
blow of the man’s hand. The sound of his smooth young butt
getting smacked echoed through the hangar. Worst was the fact
that everybody was watching. Everybody. Thirty people at least,
all gathered round to watch the thirteen-year-old boy get his
first spanking. Josh watched from his cage, feeling sorry for his
brother but really glad it was Chris and not he who was the one
bent over and being spanked.
	“Discipline is going to be a very important part of your life
from now on, Christopher Andrews,” Durand said. “We have invested
a great deal of time and money on you and you will learn to do
exactly as you are told. You will obey every order that is given
to you, immediately and without question. You will be punished
for the slightest mistake. Do you understand?”
	“I think so . . . I mean, yes, sir!”
	Durand continued. Chris struggled to stay on his feet. All the
while he knew everyone was watching him, watching his balls swing
back and forth as he wiggled and tried to keep his balance.
Between his legs he could plainly see he had an erection. His
cock was rigid, stretched to its full almost six-inch length. As
much as he wanted the spanking to end, he certainly did not want
to have to stand up with his penis at full mast.
	Chris got twenty swats on his bare behind for talking. He was
then given ten more for Joshua. In the end, the boy’s end was a
fiery red.
	“Stand up.”
	Mercifully, Christopher’s penis had gone soft again. He stood up
and instinctively reached his hands behind him.
	“Stop that, Chris. Keep your hands at your side. Now turn
around.”
	He did, tears running down his cheeks, and saw that everyone was
already going back to work. At least no one had laughed at him.
	“Stop crying,” Durand said. “Since you were so eager to get out
of your cage, I have a job for you. Pull your pants up and follow
me.”
	Before he led the thirteen-year-old away, he tossed the key to
Joshua’s cage to a waiting security guard. “Let the little one
stretch his legs for five minutes and let him use the bathroom.”
	Chris was happy that at least Josh would get to pee. He looked
back. Josh was staring at him with a look of terror on his face.
Watching your big brother get his butt whipped, hearing Chris cry
. . . well it was almost too much for the eleven-year-old. Josh
had never seen Chris cry. Ever. Until today.
	
	Christopher’s ‘job’ was to help unload the many vans and trucks
that were still arriving, bringing supplies for the trip to the
island, and transfer all the crates and boxes to waiting carts.
Chris now understood that he and his brother were inside an
airplane hangar and that everything was being readied for loading
once the plane arrived. He was ordered not to say anything to
anyone unless someone gave him an order to do something. Mostly
he just carried boxes from place to place until his arms and
shoulders were aching. Still, Chris was starting to get very
excited. Overhearing everyone’s talk, he knew the plane would be
landing sometime after midnight. The boy had never been in a
plane before. He was looking forward to that. He also learned
that several other vans were still expected, all of them
delivering more boy gladiators.
	He worked hard and quietly, forgetting all about the skimpy
uniform they’d made him wear, almost forgetting about his
spanking except for the fact that his backside still stung
fiercely. To the rest of the crew and staff he was an adorable
and provocative sight, this strong, muscular young teenaged boy
working alongside them in his gray tunic and white shorts. His
taut stomach was fully exposed, the white shorts hugged his ample
thirteen-year-old genitals and showed off the gorgeous curve of
his rear end, his firm smooth legs ended in a pair of white
trainers. He had to endure a constant barrage of good-natured
smacks on his perfect little butt whenever he walked past one of
the adults, men and women both, but he was glad to be out of the
cage. It gave him something to do and helped the time pass.
	Chris was basically free to go wherever he wanted in the hangar
as long he was carrying a box or crate in his young arms. He
worked his way back to Josh’s cage, just to see how his kid
brother was doing.
	Josh was sitting like he was before, his knees drawn to his
chest. He flashed his big brother an ‘ok’ sign with his right
hand as Chris passed by his cage. Chris returned it with a
gesture of his own.
	Chris was put back into his cage after nearly six hours of hard
labor. He was allowed to use the bathroom first and given a drink
of water. He was a very tired young man when the door to the cage
was closed and locked, but he could not lie down comfortably
inside the cage. He stayed on his hands and knees as long as he
could, then rolled over onto his side, folding his legs up as
best he could and drawing his knees up to his chest. He hated the
cage already.
	Two more vans bearing the XB1 logo pulled into the hanger. A
forklift drove up to the back door of each and removed four more
cages one at a time. Each cage contained a boy. Each boy was
close in age to Josh or Chris and attired in the same skimpy
uniform the brothers wore. The four newly arrived cages were
placed next to the ones that held Chris and Josh, making a neat
straight row of six.
	Neither Chris nor Josh could get a very good look at the other
boys. Three of them were still unconscious when they arrived, and
the boy who was awake had been given the same orders not to talk.
One by one the others all woke up, struggled and in some cases
cried for a moment when they realized they were still caged, then
they too became quiet.
	There was a large clock directly over the hangar entrance. If
Chris turned his head just right he could see it. It was
nine-thirty at night. He could see outside. There were bright
lights out there, and it was clear it had been raining. He could
just hear it beating on the roof of the hangar far above his
head.
	At ten o’clock the six boys were released from their cages to be
fed. They crawled out together and were told to remain on their
knees in front of their cages. A small bowl of soup and two
cheese sandwiches were laid on the floor in front of them.
	“Eat up, boys,” the woman who brought their dinner told them in
a kindly way. “That’s all you get until you’re on the island.”
	Chris and Josh hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Apparently none of
the other boys had either. The six of them ate ravenously. Chris
divided his second sandwich and gave the smaller piece to Josh.
The younger boy smiled at him and gobbled it down.
	At eleven o’clock two more vans entered the hangar, and two more
sets of cages were removed and set among the six already lined up
and waiting. All ten of the boys who would soon be the reluctant
stars of Worldwide Boy Gladiators were now securely caged and
awaiting the plane that would take them to the island to begin
their new lives.
	The four latecomers were all fed in the same manner, kneeling in
front of their cages, gobbling down their sandwiches and drinking
their soup directly from the bowls. Two at a time, the boys were
then taken to the bathroom. Chris did not go with Josh. His
little brother was taken first, with a boy who appeared to be
younger than he was. When Josh returned his hair was wet and
water still glistened on his skin. His tunic was plastered to his
chest.
	Chris was taken with a boy about the same age as he was. Once
they reached the bathroom they were told to strip. Both boys
skinned out of their uniforms. Chris risked a guilty glance at
the other boy. The boy was about as tall as Chris, and had a
similar build, long and lean. Chris was sure he had to be a
swimmer, just like he was. The other boy had a lot more pubic
hair than Chris did, and it was brown to match the hair on the
boy’s head. It formed a thick triangle over the boy’s penis,
which was a little smaller than the one hanging between
Christopher’s legs. Aside from the boy’s thicker pubic hair, he
was totally hairless.
	The boys were given two minutes to relieve themselves. Chris had
to do everything, and sat nervously on the toilet. He was given
no privacy.
	‘Damn, I can’t shit with those guys watching me!’
	“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a shy one,” one of the security
men said.
	“He’d better get over that real quick if he knows what’s good
for him.”
	Chris finally managed to empty his bladder and his bowels and
wipe himself just as time ran out. The two boys were then taken
to a large open shower room.
	“Wet yourselves down, boys,” the security guards escorting them
ordered. The two nude young teens stood over a drain in the
middle of the shower room. There was only one large nozzle above
their heads. The two boys shared a moment of hesitation, then
Chris turned the faucet. The water was not exactly warm, but it
wasn’t frigid either. Torturous icy showers would become the norm
for Chris over the next three years, but this last warm shower in
the country of his birth went by quickly without much
appreciation on the young teenager’s part.
	Forced to stand shoulder to shoulder, back to back, front to
front, the two boys were soon sporting erections. The guards
snickered to themselves about the turgid state of affairs between
the youngsters’ legs.
	“Alright, kids, time’s up. Get those cocks soft and get
dressed.”
	Chris was back in his uniform and back in his cage all in less
than ten minutes. He and his shower partner had not said one word
to each other. He’d seen the other kid totally naked, felt the
other boy’s boner accidentally rubbing up against his own in the
shower, and he didn’t even know the other kid’s name.
	At midnight plus five minutes, a mid-sized jet rolled into the
hangar. Chris’ heart leapt into his throat. This was it. He was
in a cage and he was going to be put on that plane. There was no
way to get out of it. No way to quit. No way back. No way to go
home. He was a slave. He was going to be a boy gladiator. People
all over the world were going to be watching him. Chris suddenly
felt very scared and very small
       When all the supplies and equipment had been loaded in the
cargo hold, and most of the crew and staff had boarded, William
Durand appeared once again. He stood in front of the line of
cages, now holding ten young boys between the ages of ten and
fourteen.
       “Listen up, boys,” he began. “I know it’s been a very long
day for all of you. I’m afraid it is about to get even longer.
Once you’ve all been loaded onto the plane we’ll be taking off.
It’s a nearly two-hour flight from New York City to the island.
I’m told the weather is somewhat rough. If any of you feel the
need to puke while we’re airborne, you will not be punished for
it, though I am afraid if you soil your cage, you will simply
have to live with it. The cargo compartment is not
air-conditioned. You will each be given a bottle of water. I
expect you to remain silent. There will be at least one guard in
the hold with you at all times.
       Once we reach the island, you will be given an orientation
where you will meet the staff, the crew and your trainers. You
will then be fed and allowed to go to bed for eight hours. That
is the most sleep you will ever be getting on Gladiator Island so
I would enjoy it if I were you.”
       Each boy was given his water bottle.
	Then the forklifts began their work, loading the cages onto the
plane. Chris and Josh were the last two boys to be put aboard.
The hold was already hot, and when the cargo door was closed the
air went still and stale almost immediately. The hold was dimly
lit. The boys were kept all together in one area, their cages
packed front to back and side to side. They could hear the
roaring of the tires as the plane sped down the runway, then
nothing but the drone of the engines and they all knew they were
in the air.
	None of the boys got sick on the flight, but all ten of them
were totally miserable. They were drenched in their own sweat.
The water they’d been given had long ago vanished. It was too hot
for the boys to sleep in their small cramped cages.

Chapter 5:

	At four o’clock in the morning, the XB1 jet touched down on the
newly extended runway of the newly renamed Gladiator Island. The
cargo door was opened and the boys got their first breath of the
sticky, hot, humid tropical air of their new home. All the boxes
and crates were removed first, and finally, as the sun was just
beginning to rise on Saturday August 17, 2039, the cages holding
the ten boys were off-loaded onto the back of a truck.
	Chris looked out through the iron bars of the cage and saw the
dark green vegetation rolling by as the truck sped down the road.
There was a sweet smell in the warm air, and the sound of birds
and insects filled his ears. In his thirteen years, Chris had
never imagined he could ever be so far from home. But then he
realized this was his home for the next three years of his life.
	The truck stopped in front of a large building with the XB1 logo
over the entrance. It was the main broadcast and support building
that housed all the production equipment and technology, the
cafeteria and the infirmary for the staff. A smaller infirmary
for the boys was located in the training facility.
	All of the cages were opened, and the boys were ordered to crawl
out and jump off the truck. Five security guards in gray uniforms
quickly surrounded them and marched them into the building,
escorting them down a long corridor and into a large open room.
Their trainers were there waiting for them, each with a metal box
sitting on a small table beside them. Chris recognized Jason
Sanborne right away.
	The boys were lined up in the center of the room, facing the six
men and four women who were going to be their trainers. William
Durand entered from a side door and called everyone to attention.

	“Good morning, boys. Welcome to Gladiator Island.” He walked
slowly up and down the line of boys in their small slave tunics
and embarrassingly tight white shorts. Ten sets of firm, shapely,
athletic boy legs were on display, ten sets of young genitals
protruded provocatively in the shorts. Some of the boys had much
larger packages between their legs than others. Chris was
actually quite proud that his and Josh’s were among the biggest.
Ten boy bellies were exposed, lean and taut, some tanned a
golden-brown, some pale white, all with adorable navels. There
were five innies in the group and five outties, a pure
coincidence. Durand addressed them as he walked, pausing for a
few moments in front of each boy to stare into their young,
nervous eyes.
       “You will be living and training and competing here until
you are sixteen years old. For some of you that will be less than
two years, for others it will be as long as five or six. The boy
gladiators of ancient Rome were slaves, and so are you. You will
be trained and disciplined and live your lives just as they would
have done. Short of killing you, there are no limits to what we
can do to you or make you do. You have no rights. You have no
say. Make no mistake, little men, our viewers are interested in
one thing: Watching you suffer in the most extreme ways
imaginable. No part of your bodies is off limits. You will be
punished for your failures and mistakes. You will be rewarded for
your victories and successes. When you reach your sixteenth
birthdays, you will be returned to your parents and you will be
extremely rich. You and your parents agreed to this arrangement
of your own free will. There is no escape.”
	Durand paused to let all of this new information sink in. All of
the boys knew they would have to be slaves for a few years, few
them grasped the extreme pain, humiliation and suffering they
would each endure until they turned sixteen.
	“And now, we will handle the formalities of the roll call and
assign you to your trainers. You will notice the cameramen in the
room. You are always to ignore them. Never look directly into any
of the cameras unless you are told to by your trainer. If you
disobey, you will be punished. When I call your name, step
forward, strip, and stand at attention. Your trainer will come to
fetch you.”
	There was a moment of silence while Durand took his place at a
podium behind the trainers. His laptop was already set up and
waiting for him. He opened the necessary files and reviewed all
the information his researchers had collected on each boy.
“Andrews, C.”
	Chris was hoping he wouldn’t be the first boy to have to step
forward and strip naked, but he had no choice. Blushing slightly
he left the line and walked toward the waiting trainers. He saw a
piece of black tape on the floor and cleverly figured out this
was where he was supposed to stop.
	“State your name, age and nationality. Tell us what sports you
are best at. Speak up so the cameramen can hear you.”
	“My name is Christopher Andrews,” Chris said, darting his eyes
from one trainer to the next, finally resting his gaze on Jason
Sanborne. “I’m thirteen. I’m from the USA. I swim and I wrestle.”
With that, Chris pulled off his tunic, took off his shoes and
slid his tight white shorts off his hips and down his legs, his
boy-cock swinging back and forth as he stepped out of them. Now
he was naked, the only naked boy in the whole room. The two
cameramen moved in closer to him, filming his nude
thirteen-year-old body from head to toe.
	“Your trainer is Jason Sanborne,” Durand said.
	Jason Sanborne stepped forward. “Put your hands behind your head
and come over here to the table.”
	Chris immediately obeyed and walked forward to the small table
his trainer had indicated. There was a metal box sitting on it.
The boy tried to sneak a look inside, but it was closed and
locked.
	“Stand next to me and don’t move.”
	Chris nodded that he understood. As frightened as he was, he was
sort of glad he was first. Now he just had to wait for the others
to endure the same humiliation he’d just been through. At least
he’d get to watch.
	Josh was called next. He stood in the middle of the room, and
repeated his brother’s performance. “I’m Joshua Andrews. Chris is
my brother. I’m eleven and I’m from the USA. I’m a wrestler.
Free-style’s my best, but I do Greco-Roman too.” Josh stripped
much faster than his brother had done. He just wanted to get it
over with. All of the trainers and film crew in the room couldn’t
help but stare at the oversized organ that dangled between the
eleven-year-old’s legs. It was already almost as big as
thirteen-year-old Christopher’s, and Josh hadn’t even started
puberty yet.
	“Your trainer is Hanna Dubose.”
	A tall young woman, barely in her twenties stepped forward. She
wore the same gray jumpsuit as Jason Sanborne. Her hair was dark
and cut very short. She was a lesbian, but took a certain delight
in the idea of training and tormenting a young boy. She generally
disliked males, and she took an immediate dislike to little
Joshua with his not so little penis.
	“Put your hands behind your head and get over here, wiener-boy,”
she sneered at him. The other trainers laughed. Not a terribly
imaginative nickname, but it was certainly descriptive, and young
Josh would be tagged with it for the next five years of his life.

	Already very much afraid of this very powerful and confident
young woman, a very naked Josh scurried over to Hanna Dubose’s
table.
	William Durand called each boy’s name individually. And each boy
took his turn stepping into the center of the room, alone and
frightened. Each boy stripped off his uniform and stood naked
before the trainers and of course the other boys who’d gone
earlier. The youngest and smallest boy was Miles Harris. He was
English, a Londoner in fact, and excelled at running and cricket.

	“There won’t be much cricket on this island,” Durand said with a
smile, “but you will have plenty of chances to show us all how
fast you can run.”
	Miles had a very athletic build in spite of his young age. His
legs were particularly muscular and well developed. His genitals
though were very small, a tiny circumcised cock barely two inches
long and balls that still hugged up close to his body. Naturally
there was not a lick of hair on him, aside from the shaggy brown
mop on his head.
	The oldest boy turned out to be the one Chris had showered with
earlier. He was David Brown, age fourteen and six months, from
Australia. He was taller than Chris, though not the tallest boy
in the group. Like Chris he was a swimmer, and also competed in
Australia’s junior lifeguard competitions. He had the most pubic
hair of all the boys, and even had a few sparse hairs growing
under his arms. The rest of his body was still perfectly
hairless. The hair on his head was brown. His eyes were blue. His
genitals were about the same size as Christopher’s, his cock a
bit smaller, his balls a bit larger.
	The boy with the biggest cock and balls was Illya Casparev, a
Russian and a thirteen-year-old about two months older than Chris
was. His cock was a massive organ, nearly six inches long, and
very thick, dangling down over a set of plump low-hanging balls.
Illya’s genitals were made to appear even larger due to the fact
that the thirteen-year-old did not have a single pubic hair. His
entire body was as smooth and hairless as that of the younger
boys. Illya was a gymnast. The muscles in his arms and legs
certainly proved that.
	The remaining boys were all equally cute and equally athletic,
and after the final boy was called, they all stood equally naked
next to their trainers. All of them were curious as to the
contents of the metal boxes on the small tables. They were soon
to find out, although it is doubtful any of them would be too
happy about it when they did.

	Durand addressed the ten trainers and their boys. “Now that you
boys have met your trainers, we need to establish some rules
about your behavior. Your trainers are your masters. If you
remember that, you will do very well here on the island. You are
to obey them without question. Your trainers will tell you what
is expected of you each day. They will supervise your daily
training sessions and prepare you for each contest. You will
always try your best. This is a competition. You will be
competing against each other, either in teams or individually.
You will also be competing against yourself. You will earn points
both inside and outside the arena for being obedient and doing
things correctly, and you will be given demerits for misbehaving
and for any errors you make. Winning a contest does not
necessarily mean you will earn points in your favor.” Durand
paused for a moment. The boys’ eyes were all locked on him,
trying to make sense of everything they were being told. It was
almost overwhelming for them. Some of the boys had been awake for
more than twenty-four hours now, all of them were scared and
exhausted.
       “Your trainers will help to ensure that you are in the
best shape of your lives, and that you stay that way. They are
here to help you endure hardships you cannot yet imagine. They
are not here to be your friends or your counselors. Obey them.
Never lie to them. Do exactly what they tell you, when they tell
you.”
	Chris looked up at Jason. The young man gave him a brief smile.
	“Now, trainers, please unlock each boy’s box. Boys, go back and
get your shoes and your uniforms. Fold your tunics and shorts and
place them on the table.”
	Each of the trainers drew a ring of keys from his or her pocket
and opened the boxes that lay on the tables. The nude boys
meanwhile scrambled back to the other side of the room and picked
up their cast off clothing, in some cases having a hard time
figuring out whose was whose.
After a few minutes of boyish chaos, everything was sorted out
and all ten of the boys returned to their trainers, carrying
their meager clothing in their arms.
	Chris deposited his uniform and his shoes on the table.
	“You won’t be needing these very often,” Jason explained.
“You’ll be naked most of the time.”
	“I’m getting used to it, sir,” Chris whispered.
	Jason smiled, but then his youthful features grew stern. “No
talking. Don’t open your mouth again or I’ll have to punish you.”
	Durand called everyone back to attention. Indoctrinating the
boys was a carefully orchestrated step-by-step process, intended
to reinforce the fact that they were all slaves and would remain
so until their indentures expired. “Trainers, it is now time to
put your young gladiator in his collar and irons.”
	Jason Sanborne reached into the box and pulled out a thick iron
collar. It opened with a hinge and had four iron rings on it, one
in front, one in back, and one on each side. Chris stared at it
with wide anxious eyes.
	“Stand still, Chris,” Jason said. He put the collar around the
thirteen-year-old’s neck and locked it in place. He could sense
the young teenager’s apprehension. “Slaves always wear collars.
It will not come off until you leave the island.”
       Next, iron shackles were locked around the boy’s ankles.
Like the collar, they had rings on them. Another identical pair
soon adorned his wrists. Chris was totally silent, not even
daring to breathe. Just a few days ago he was a free person, a
normal happy kid enjoying his summer vacation. Now he was naked,
and collared, with heavy iron shackles locked around his wrists
and ankles. His summer vacation was over, but his schooling was
going to be quite different from now on. He was a
thirteen-year-old slave, a thirteen-year-old gladiator. He
started trembling. He couldn’t help himself. At this moment he
was more afraid than he’d ever been before.
	The other boys were equally subdued and equally frightened. All
of the trainers sensed it. Durand at the podium sensed it. It was
exactly the reaction he wanted. The ten boys were now all locked
in their collars and shackles.
	“Trainers, attach the chains.”
	Sanborne went back to the box. He first produced a two-foot
length of heavy chain, which he attached to the irons around
Christopher’s ankles, securing it with a set of padlocks. A
second chain followed it. This one was attached to the iron
shackles around the boy’s wrists. Chris was now chained hand and
foot. The chains were long enough that he could still freely move
his arms and legs, but they were heavy, adding to the already
substantial weight of the shackles themselves. Chris knew he
could not get out of them. He bit his lower lip. If he could have
quit, he would have done it right there. But he couldn’t quit.
He’d signed the paper himself, making himself a slave. His only
escape was his sixteenth birthday, nearly three full years away.
	“Get used to the chains, Chris,” his trainer explained.
“Whenever you’re not in the arena, in the boys’ barracks, or at
the training facility, you will be chained.”
	Chris swallowed hard and nodded that he understood.
	Just then Durand issued his next set of instructions.
	“Trainers, put your boys into their chastity devices.”
	Jason again reached into the box and produced a bizarre metal
object. Chris could tell by the general shape and size of the
object that it was meant to go on only one place on his body. He
took a close look at the device in his trainer’s hands and tried
to bolt.
       ‘No way they’re putting that thing around my dick!’ he
thought to himself.
       He wasn’t the only one of the ten boys who had that
reaction. Jason grabbed him under the arm and held him still.
“None of that, Chris. If you do that again, you’ll be punished.
You signed the contract. You’re a slave now. Deal with it. You
will wear this at all times. Now stand still and let me put it on
you.”
	“What the hell is it?” the naked thirteen-year-old asked, trying
to regain his composure, staring at the shiny metal device.
	“Just like Mr. Durand said. It’s a chastity device.” Jason held
it closer and turned it this way and that so Chris could get a
better look at it. “This particular style has been around for
over forty years, kiddo. They usually come in plastic, but we had
these made from stainless steel. It has two main pieces . . . “
he removed the small padlock that held it all together. “Hold out
your hand, boy.”
	Chris did as he was told and Jason put the biggest piece of the
device in the boy’s left hand. It looked like a small metal cage,
about three inches long from end to end and one inch wide. There
was a small metal ring at the open end, less than an inch in
diameter. Two metal posts stuck out on the back of the ring. Each
post was about a ½ inch long. It was on the other side of this
ring that things got interesting, scary interesting in young
Chris’ opinion.
       Six metal bars were welded to the ring, held permanently
in place, stretching down from the ring and attaching themselves
about two inches further down to another even smaller ring about
¾ of an inch in diameter. The bars looked as if they passed
through this ring, took a sharp forty-five degree downward angle,
and finally attached themselves to the end of the device, which
was closed off by yet another even smaller ring with its own set
of tiny bars running in parallel lines across its diameter. The
result resting in Christopher’s palm was a not quite three-inch
long metal cage that curved wickedly under itself at its very
end.
	“That part goes around your penis.”
	“Yeah. I kinda figured that out myself.”
	“Smart boy. Now this larger ring,” Jason held up the other
primary piece to this puzzling device, “goes around the base of
your cock and balls. There’s three little holes drilled through
the top of the ring, see . . .”
	Again Chris got to inspect it close up.
	“There’s a post that slides through the hole in the middle,”
Jason held out his hand and showed Chris the post with all the
other as yet unidentified bits, “and the posts on the penis cage
slide into the two holes on either side of the middle hole.”
	“What’s all the rest of that stuff.”
	“These little round things are spacers, to make sure it fits you
nice and snug. And this,” Jason held up the last piece. It was a
half-circle, shining steel like the rest of the device, and along
its inner curvature there was a series of small metal spikes. It
had a hole at the top for the main post to pass through. “Well, I
think you’ve got the idea about what that piece is for. Now
spread your legs a bit so I can get this on you. You’re not going
to give me any trouble are you?”
	“No, sir.”
	“Good. Try your best not to get an erection.”
	Jason drew the thirteen-year-old boy’s low-hanging balls through
the ring then slowly worked the boy’s penis through, pulling the
kid’s genitals forward until the ring rested right up against
Christopher’s pubic region. It was the first time any hand but
his own, or maybe possibly his mom’s when he was very little, had
touched his private parts. Chris couldn’t help but let out a soft
moan as his cock slowly swelled to a semi-erect state.
       “Alright. Calm yourself down.” Jason ran his hands
playfully through Christopher’s sparse little tuft of blond pubic
hair. He didn’t have the heart to tell the young teenager that
he’d soon be loosing it, along with every other pretty much
non-existent wisp of hair on his slim muscular little body.
	“Now the post, the spacers, and the spikes.” Jason slid the post
through the middle of the three holes, then slid the spacers down
the post, followed by the half-circular spike attachment. Chris
could feel the spikes digging into the flesh of his penis right
away.
	“Ouch.”
	“Stop whining. Now the penis cage.” Jason lined up the three
posts and slid the device on, using just the tips of his pinky
fingers (the only ones that could fit in the spaces between the
bars) to pull the tip of the boy’s penis all the way down to the
end. Chris immediately felt his cock being curved back under
itself. He started to get hard just as Jason was putting the
padlock through a tiny hole at the very end of the center post.
The trainer snapped the lock in place with a very ominous and
final ‘click.’ He took the key and added it to the ring that
already held the keys to Christopher’s collar and shackles.
	“Oh, shit . . . “ Chris whispered as his cock strained against
the metal cage, the five tiny spikes digging even deeper into his
swollen teenaged meat.
	“You can’t have an erection in that thing, Christopher. When you
try to, you’ll feel the spikes even more.”
	In a total panic, Chris instinctively reached down and tried to
pull the device off his genitals. It wouldn't budge. He looked up
at Jason with a look of sheer confused terror in his watering
blue eyes.
“You can’t take it off, Chris. You need the key to do that. And
you don’t have the key,
do you?”
  	“No, sir,” Chris hung his head as the stark reality of this
situation sunk in. His penis was locked in a cage and there was
nothing he could do about it.
	“I’m your trainer, Chris,” Jason said sternly, “and that means
I’m in charge of you . . . all of you. From now on, I decide when
you can have an erection. And I can promise you it won’t be very
often. You’ll get used to it. You don’t really have a choice, do
you?”
	“No, sir.”
	The only consolation Chris could find was that all of the other
boys also had chastity devices locked around their cocks and
balls. Looking around he did notice that Josh, and the two other
younger boys were wearing a somewhat different contraption. Josh
had on a thick black leather belt. Attached to this belt was a
metal plate in the shape of a triangle with a slight outward and
downward curve to it. The plate concealed and encased Joshua’s
penis and testicles completely. They could not be seen or
touched. The belt locked around the boy’s waist from behind with
two heavy padlocks. A leather strap ran from the bottom of the
plate, under Joshua’s legs and up the length of his little
butt-crack, attaching itself to the belt and pulling the plate
tightly against the eleven-year-old’s abdomen. It made him appear
totally flat up front between his legs, no cute young genitals
dangling softly. It was as if eleven-year-old Josh had no
genitals at all.
	Chris of course did not know all the details, but Josh was
currently experiencing the odd and not very pleasant sensation of
having his testicles forced back up into his body, his penis
pressed permanently downward between his legs.
	Joshua, Ian, and Miles, the three youngest boys, all wore these
nasty chastity belts. None of the little boys would be having
stiffies with the belts locked around their slender waists.
	William Durand again stood in front of the group. “Now boys,
each of you will receive your number. This will make it easier
for the staff and crew and the audience at home to identify you.
Trainers, if you will take your boy’s identification tag and
attach it to the ring on the front of his collar.”
	Jason reached into the box once again. This time he pulled out a
small square metal ID tag. Chris looked at it closely. It was
silver, with thick black lettering. It simply said:
	‘Boy 07’
	Jason attached it to the front of Christopher’s collar. “That’s
your name from this moment on. You will never be called by your
given name again. I will find a nickname for you eventually, but
for now you will answer to Boy Zero-Seven.”
	Chris nodded and looked over to find Josh. He quietly and
quickly flashed a seven with his fingers. Josh just as quickly
flashed two fingers back at him.
	The numbers were not random, but in fact based on the boy’s
ages. Boy number Zero-One was ten-year-old Miles Harris. Boy
number One-Zero was fourteen-year-old David Brown, the oldest boy
on the island, but not the biggest. Chris even though he was one
of the tallest, was only the fourth oldest, and so he ended up
with number Zero-Seven. It would be his name for the next three
years.
	“Now we will put you in pairs,” Durand said, gazing out at the
ten handsome muscular boy athletes. Aside from the wispy tufts of
pubic hair on the older boys, their strong young naked bodies
were all completely smooth and hairless. “In most cases you will
be competing as team-mates, though there will be exceptions. To
keep things fair, we will be pairing an older boy with a younger
boy. When your numbers are called please pick up your boxes and
step forward with your trainers. Then move to the other side of
the room.”
	Durand looked down at his roster, made a few last minute
adjustments and began reading out the numbers.
	“Zero-One and Zero-Nine.”
	That paired ten-year-old Miles Harris with fourteen-year-old
Philippe Dulac. Philippe was the only French boy in the group.
Diving was his sport of choice. He was long-limbed and lean, with
an uncircumcised cock that was of just about average length for
his age but very thick and crowned with a nice tuft of light
brown pubic hair. The two boys and their trainers stepped forward
and walked across the room, carrying their boxes in front of
them. “Lift that box higher, Zero-Nine,” the older boy’s trainer,
a woman, said. “You are not allowed to cover your genitals.
Ever.”
	“Zero-Three and Zero-Eight.”
	Eleven-year-old Ian Cloverdale and thirteen-year-old Illya
Casparev stepped forward. Their trainers were both men. Illya, a
skim alabaster-skinned Russian, was actually taller than either
of the two fourteen-year-olds. Ian was tanned a deep dark golden
brown except for a striking pure white patch around his middle
where his speedo would have been. Hidden within the confines of
his chastity belt, was a cock that was still rather small, but
his balls were quite large and hung lower than Josh's did. Ian
already had some pubic hair, black like the hair on his head,
forming a small wispy triangle above his penis. None of this of
course could now be seen, since a metal plate covered the
youngster’s genitals completely. Beside him, thirteen-year-old
Ilya's huge man-sized dick, without a single pubic hair around
it, was now confined by the metal cock-cage. It was a fairly
comical sight, a boy so young with a cock so big. He and Josh
probably should have been paired together.
	“Zero-Two and One-Zero.”
	Josh got David, the oldest boy in the competition, and the only
one with a fairly thick bush of pubic hair above his penis. The
rest of him however was a completely hairless as his
four-foot-six-inch tall eleven-year-old partner. Josh looked back
at his brother in fear. He was sure he’d get to be with his
brother the whole time, he never would have signed the contract
if he thought they’d be separated. Chris was also disappointed
and worried. He’d promised Josh he’d take of him and look after
him. He’d promised his parents the same thing. Now they’d be
competing against each other. With his head down, prodded along
by his trainer, the second of the four women in the room, young
Josh followed David to the other side. The fourteen-year-old’s
trainer was also a woman, much to young David’s embarrassment.
	“Zero-Six and Zero-Five.”
	That was a pairing of the two oldest twelve-year-olds, Daniel
O’Hanlon, the only Canadian, and the only red-head among the
boys, and the second English boy Gabriel Shelton who, based upon
his age, had the strongest heaviest build of all the boys. There
was no fat on the kid’s body at all. He was solid muscle. His
sports were soccer and rugby, and his compact frame was perfectly
proportioned for his chosen athletic endeavors. Neither boy had a
lick of hair on his body. Gabriel’s genitals, before being locked
away in the chastity device, were quite large for a boy of
twelve. Daniel’s on the other hand were quite small, the smallest
in fact of virtually all the boys, beating only ten-year-old
Miles in that department.
	“Zero-Four and Zero-Seven.”
	Simply by elimination, Chris already knew boy number Zero-Four
would be his partner. It was the other Russian, Alexei Graznikov.
He was only a little bit bigger than Josh, and unlike the two
older twelve-year-olds, he had slight dusting of pubic hair over
a particularly thick three-inch long cock. He was trim, tight and
muscular, and Chris knew just by looking at him that we was a
wrestler the same as Josh was. If his younger brother could not
be his partner, Alexei was probably the next best choice. The two
boys stood face to face and shared a quick smile, remembering
that they were not allowed to speak out of turn. Then they picked
up their boxes and marched across the room with their trainers.
Alexei’s trainer was a woman, which clearly did not make him, or
Chris, terribly happy.
	“Alright boys, listen up,” Durand said. “This is the last time
you will stand in this building. No slaves are allowed here.
We’re going to march you outside and show you around the complex.
 Your first stop will be the arena. Trainers, chain your boys
together, please.”
       Two-foot lengths of chain were brought out and attached to
the iron collars around each boy’s neck, chaining him to his
partner.
       “Whenever you are being taken from one place to another,
you will be chained together,” Alexei’s trainer explained to them
as Jason locked the chain in place. The chain was very heavy.
Chris and Alexei were close in height, but they quickly
discovered they had to stand close together to keep slack in the
chain. “My name is Natasha,” she said to Chris, her accent
clearly Russian. She was a very large and very frightening woman,
a few inches taller than Jason. She gazed down at the
thirteen-year-old’s strong athletic young body and a wicked leer
filled her eyes. “You will address me as ‘ma’am’.”
       “Yes, ma’am,” Chris said.
       “Follow us, boys,” Jason said and the two boys fell in
step behind their trainers.
       They walked out into the hot tropical sun. There were no
trees close by to offer the boys any shade. They left the
production building, passed the small resort-style hotel that had
been built for special guests, crossed a neatly manicured dirt
road and saw the arena for the first time. It was an octagonal
building, not as large as the boys might have expected, but it
was the biggest building on the island, with the exception of
William Durand’s private estate.
       “This is the public entrance,” Durand said as the ten boys
and their trainers marched around the front of the building. It
was ornate and elegant and clearly intended for those of great
wealth and influence. “It is strictly off-limits to you boys.
Your entrance is at the back.”
       With their chains rattling and clinking with each step,
the nude boys were led around the structure. A set of steel
double doors marked the boys’ entrance to the arena. Jason and
one of the other male trainers pulled the doors open and the boys
were marched down a steep ramp into a large underground room. It
was dimly lit, but the boys could see cages, and cells, and four
ominous looking wooden tables with metal restraints and chains at
each corner.
       “We are directly beneath the floor of the arena,” Durand
explained. “Some of the events will require all of you to be in
the arena at the same time, most of them will not. You will be
held here until your number is called. Then you will ascend those
stairs,” Durand pointed to one of two sets of stairs that led up
to the arena. Over the arched opening the word ‘BOYS’ was painted
in black letters. The other staircase had the words ‘Trainers and
Crew’.
       The boys were given a few minutes to walk around the lower
level. There were no windows at all. The four tables drew a lot
of attention and a lot of frightened anxious looks. All of the
boys wondered what might happen to them on one of those tables
and all of them decided they did not want to end up there. The
cages were larger than the ones they’d been put into for their
journey to the island. Tall and narrow, it was obvious that each
could hold only a single boy and that he would have to be
standing the entire time he was in it.
       “Alright, boys,” Durand called them back to attention. “Up
the stairs you go.”
       The five pairs of boys marched quickly and silently up the
steps. The staircase was just wide enough to allow for a pair of
boys chained together at the neck. Chris and Alexei where the
first ones to reach the floor of the arena. Durand and the
trainers had taken the other steps and were already there waiting
for them.
       “You will run up those steps from now on,” Durand said.
“When you reach the top, you will come to the center of the arena
and wait with your hands behind your heads. Do it now.”
       The ten boys all crowded together in the center of the
floor, assuming the required position. The area in which they
stood was square, fifty yards by fifty, with a five-foot high
wall on all sides. Hard unforgiving concrete was beneath their
bare feet. Above the wall, the seating for the spectators began.
The arena would hold five hundred people, and there was not an
obstructed view in the house. The arena was enclosed, the roof
covered in tiles which would amplify the sounds from the floor
below.
       “The arena,” Durand said, gesturing wide with his arms.
“Modeled after the coliseums of the ancient world. You will be
shedding a great number of tears, and a great deal of blood on
this floor.”
       The boys all shivered. Their chains rattled.
       “Live competitions will take place here every Friday and
Saturday. All of you will always compete in the live events.
There will be additional contests throughout the week. These will
be more selective, designed to test your individual strengths and
weaknesses. Not all events will be held indoors. Follow me.”
       With their trainers prodding them forward, the boys
marched through an open archway at the far end of the arena,
passed through a narrow tunnel and came out into the bright,
sweltering tropical sunlight. There in front of them was a long
oval track, with grandstands built along both straight-aways. The
track itself was simply hard-packed dirt. It was forty feet wide
along the straight sections, but narrowed considerably in the
oval curves at each end. Inside the track there were two small
open pavillions, each with a single wooden bench, more holding
cages like the ones the boys had already seen below the arena,
and five two-wheeled carts which immediately caught the young
gladiators attention.
       “The hippodrome. Your foot and chariot races will be held
here,” Durand explained as the ten boys were forcefully marched
around the entire track. “The track is ¾ of a mile long. I see
you’ve all noticed the chariots. They’ve been designed to be
pulled by something considerably smaller than a horse. An animal
with fewer legs. A boy, to be precise.”
       The naked boys gave each other nervous worried glances.
The chariots, though small, looked to be very sturdy and no doubt
very heavy.
       “I’ll never be able to pull something like that,” young
Josh said, staring at the two-wheeled chariot with dread.
       Once they’d completed their circuit of the track, the boys
were hurried along at a near run to the far side of the arena,
where another out-door facility awaited their inspection. It was
an enormous swimming pool. Olympic sized.
       Chris and the other swimmers in the group immediately got
excited.
       “Is there any boy here who can’t swim?” Durand asked.
       Ten-year-old Miles was the only boy who raised his hand.
       “You will learn,” Durand said sternly. “Quickly. Boy
Zero-Seven!”
       It took Chris a few seconds to realize Durand meant him.
‘Oh, that’s me!’ he thought. “Yes, sir!” he shouted as loud and
brave as he could.
       “Our research tells us you are likely the best swimmer in
the group. You will be responsible for teaching Zero-One here to
swim. You will be punished if he fails to meet my expectations.
Trainers, make a note of it.”
       Jason drew out his digital notepad and quickly entered
these special orders. Chris suddenly did not feel so good about
being such a good swimmer.
       “I’m sure you boys are thinking you will enjoy yourselves
in the pool,” Durand continued. “I can assure you that will not
be the case.”
       The boys were marched away from the pool and taken to the
training facility right next door. There was a large common area
in the center of the building with smaller special training rooms
all around it. The infirmary and its examination room were also
here. The main room looked like any well-equipped athletic
training facility. There were weight machines, treadmills, rowing
machines, free weights, medicine balls, jump ropes and even a
climbing wall at one end. Everything was new and the boys were
excited about being able to train on all that cool equipment.
Their reaction to the six smaller special training rooms was
considerably less enthusiastic. There were three on either side,
opening onto the main room. They were each about twenty feet by
twenty. All six of them had solid steel doors. There were no
windows. The boys all gasped when they saw the contents of these
rooms. There were contraptions and devices and pieces of
equipment none of them had ever seen before. Most of them looked
extremely scary and painful. Chris wondered just exactly what
kind of training was going to be going on here. Once again the
boys were allowed to walk around, exploring each room, studying
the bizarre equipment close up. The puzzled unsure looks on all
of their young faces was priceless, and of course the cameras,
which were already following them everywhere they went, captured
all of it. Some of the older boys were beginning to get some idea
about what might be happening to them in this building. Strange
things. Things that had nothing to do with athletics as they
understood the word. There were nervous giggles and frightened
awestruck gasps.
       Of course even the youngest boys knew what the whips and
canes and paddles that hung from the walls of each room would be
used for. None of the boys dared get too close to those.
       “Boys,” Durand addressed them as their trainers gathered
them back together again. “You will now be taken to the barracks.
You will be allowed rest until feeding time. After you have been
fed, you will be brought back here and your training will begin.
Move out!”
       They were marched toward a single isolated building
sitting out on open ground, surrounded by a high fence topped
with razor wire. The boys did not like the looks of it at all. A
uniformed guard stood by the only gate in the fence. He spoke
into his radio and the gate buzzed loudly for a moment and
clicked open.
       The ten boys were marched inside by their trainers, and
the gate closed and locked behind them. Another guard stood at
the door to the barracks and buzzed it open for them. The boys
were ushered inside to find five more guards on duty, two of whom
were women. Durand had followed behind the parade of naked boys
and told them all to gather in the common area of the barracks.
The boys all stood there, collared, shackled, chained, their
young genitals locked away in chastity devices. Some of them
looked scared, all of them looked shocked, none of them looked
terribly happy.
       “The guards are in charge of you while you’re inside the
barracks,” Durand explained to the ten boys. “The gladiators of
ancient times were slaves and so are you. You are, essentially,
animals, and the guards are instructed to treat you accordingly.
They will oversee your feeding, your daily showers and any
routine punishments you earn while in this building. You will
obey them the same you will obey your trainers. They are allowed
to discipline you as they see fit. This common area, and your
cells are the only places on the island where you will be allowed
to speak freely to each other, but you will remain quiet and
orderly at all times. You are not allowed to leave the barracks
without a trainer to accompany you.
       Your daily routine is as follows: You will be awakened for
breakfast at 0800 every morning. You will eat all the food you
are given. You will then be taken to the shower area. The guards
will supervise you closely to make sure your bodies are clean.
Your trainers will come for you at 0900 to start your day. You
will be returned here for supper at 1700, allowed to go to the
bathroom then resume whatever activities you’ve been assigned.
You will be returned to your barracks by 2130 each night and
given two hours of free time. There will be no television, no
video games. There is a small library from which you may borrow
one book at a time. Lights out is at 2330 hours.
       You will be allowed to make one fifteen-minute telephone
call home each week. Your trainer will schedule your call time
for you. This is a privilege and not a right. You are slaves. If
you break any rules, your call privileges will be taken away.
        Trainers, remove their chains.”
       The ten trainers quickly unlocked the chains attached to
the boys’ collars, freeing them from their partners. The shackles
around their ankles and wrists were also removed. Each set of
chains and shackles was hung next to the doors of the five small
cells that would be the boys sleeping quarters. Each pair was
assigned to a cell. Chris and Alexei were placed in cell number
three. It had two small metal slabs that folded down from the
wall. Each was covered with a thin mattress. There was a pillow
on each bed, a single white sheet, and no blankets. The cell had
a window, covered by thick mesh screen and iron bars. Fresh air
could come in, but the boys could not see out. Aside from the
beds, there was nothing else in the tiny little room.
       The boys were put in their cells and locked in until
supper was delivered from the cafeteria building. Chris was
distraught. He hadn’t had one chance to say anything to Josh. He
knew his little brother must be scared to death right now, but
there was nothing he could do to help him. He sat on his bunk and
swung his legs freely, his toes just barely grazed the floor.
       “You are scared?” Alexei said, his voice just showing the
first signs of puberty.
       Chris looked up at his younger partner in surprise. Alexei
smiled brightly.
       “Da. I speak good English. You are Christopher?”
       “Yeah. You can call me Chris.”
       “Chris,” the twelve-year-old Russian boy smiled, showing a
rather endearing gap in his front teeth. “You are scared?”
       “Hell yes! Aren’t you?”
       “Da. I don’t . . . understood . . . why we wear these
things . . . “ Alexei spread his slender muscular legs and
pointed down at the metal device encasing his hairless genitals.
       “Me neither,” Chris sighed. “Guess I won’t be jerkin’ off
for a while.”
       “You’re Alexei, right?”
       “Da,” the twleve-year-old said, pointing a finger at his
chest. “Alexei Ivanovich Graznikov.”
       Chris held out his hand. “Nice to meet you. Guess we’re
going to be team-mates or something like that.”
       “Team . . . mates. Yes. I like. Nice to meet you too.”
       “Sorry I don’t speak any Russian.”
       Alexei smiled again. “I will teach. If you help me with
English? Good?”
       Chris couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s awkward way of
speaking. But he was relieved the other kid at least understood
what he was saying. “Deal,” Chris said, again shaking Alexei’s
hand.
       “Natasha says we always will be naked. You think she says
truth?”
       Chris nodded. “Jason told me the same thing. Just think,
Alexei, millions of people are gonna get to see our big dicks an
our naked butts every fuckin’ Saturday.”
       “Fuckin’ Saturday!” Alexei shouted with a big laugh,
slapping his bare thighs with his hands. “Big fuckin’ dicks! I
have a big fuckin’ dick! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
       “Well, you’ve got that word figured out anyway,” Chris
replied. “And you’re dick ain’t really all that big, buddy, sorry
to tell you.”
       “Your little brother . . . he has big one.”
       “Bigger than yours,” Chris said with a certain amount of
pride, and also a certain amount of embarrassment that Josh’s
penis was already almost as big as his own. “Illya is like,
totally huge, man. I mean damn.”
       “Illya, da,” Alexei said. “We are friends for very long
time. He only got so big a few years ago.”
       “You’re a wrestler, right?”
	The twelve-year-old nodded with enthusiasm. “Very good wrestler.
You?”
	“I wrestle, but that’s really my brother’s thing. I’m a swimmer.
No one’s gonna beat me in the water.”
       “We will make a good team,” the young Russian said.
       “I think so too.”

Chapter 6:

       Chris managed to fall asleep for about six hours before he
woke up shouting. The boy’s four-inch long penis was trying its
best to get hard inside the chastity device, driving the metal
spikes into the thirteen-year-old’s flesh.
       “Fuck! Dammit!” he cursed as he shot up on his bunk and
pulled the sheet off his body. He was covered in a fine sheen of
sweat. The room was sweltering. There was only the faintest
breeze blowing through the barred screen in the window. He
dropped back onto his elbows and stared down the length of his
body. He was panting, his muscular stomach rising and falling in
rapid breaths. His was in a fix and that was sure. His penis was
doing what it always did when he woke up, only now the young
teenager’s normal six-inch erection was being squeezed into a
metal cock cage only three inches long, and held down cruelly
between his legs.
       Alexei rolled onto his side, opened his eyes and quickly
discovered he was in the same predicament. The cameras should
have been there. They missed the wonderful moment. Two horny
pubescent boys realizing that they could not have erections.
       “Shit! I can’t get hard in this thing,” Chris moaned.
“Damn, that fuckin’ hurts!”
       Twelve-year-old Alexei, whose cock was about an inch
shorter than Christopher’s was suffering just as badly. His
chastity device was a little bit smaller, and so it encased his
smaller organ just as tightly and just as snuggly.
       “Spikes!” Alexei shouted, trying in desperation to pull
the thing off his genitals.
       “We gotta get our dicks soft, Alexei,” Chris said, on his
feet now and prancing around the tiny cell.
       “Da! Da!”
       The two boys did a comical dance for a few minutes until
their pubescent cocks finally began to deflate. With a loud sigh
of relief Chris and Alexei both sat down on their bunks, crossing
their slim hairless legs and not daring to touch their chastity
devices.
       “What the hell are we gonna do?” Chris asked.
       Alexei shrugged his sinewy wrestler’s shoulders. “We must
not be getting hard,” he said.
       Chris shook his head. “Man, I have like ten erections a
day. This thing is gonna kill me!”
       Alexei leaned his bare back against the wall and closed
his eyes. He hated that thing around his dick. The fact that he
thought the thirteen-year-old American boy was incredibly cute
wasn’t going to make things any easier. Chris was thinking pretty
much the same thing about Alexei. He wasn’t really sure if he was
gay or straight, but he knew he liked looking at other boys, and
that sometimes he’d get a boner when he did. Sometimes he’d dream
about them at night and wake up with his stomach all crusty with
his cum.
       Of course Chris was still a virgin, the only sex he’d ever
had so far was with himself. He wasn’t entirely sure exactly how
it was supposed to work with two boys, but he had a fairly
accurate idea. Tab A into Slot B. That sort of thing.
       Alexei was definitely cute. He felt his cock stirring
again as he looked at him. He leaned back against the cold
cinder-block wall and closed his eyes too. ‘Don’t think about
that stuff’ he told himself. His penis returned to its soft four
inches, and thankfully seemed content to stay that way.
	The door to their cell was unlocked and swung open. One of the
guards stepped into the cell.
	“Looks like everyone’s awake in here.” The man gazed at the two
naked boys. “On your feet.”
	Chris and Alexei slid off their bunks and stood side-by-side,
their shoulders touching in the tight space between the beds. The
guard looked down at the metal chastity devices encasing the
young boys’ genitals. “Having a hard time there, boys?” he asked
with a wicked laugh.
	“No, sir,” Chris replied.
	“Go out to the table and sit down. You can choose your seat.”
	There was a single long table, five round stools on each side.
Chris took a seat at the end. Josh scurried over to get the one
next to him before another boy could take it.
	“Hey, squirt,” Chris said softly as Josh sat down. His little
brother looked strange in his leather chastity belt, with the
metal plate completely covering his genitals.
	“Hey,” Josh said. His face was pale. His body was glistening
with sweat. He had a shocked look on his face. He didn’t know
what to think about everything that had happened to him in the
last twenty-four hours.
	“You doin’ okay?” his big brother asked.
	“Guess so. I don’t like this belt thing they put on me. My balls
are like, way up inside me right now.”
	“Can you get hard?”
	“Nope,” Josh said, shaking his blond head.
	“Me neither.”
	“It tries to,” the eleven-year-old explained in his most
studious manner, “but it can’t go anywhere. There’s little spikes
or somethin’ inside this thing.”
	“Mine’s got spikes too. Hurts like hell.”
	“I wanna go home, Chris.”
	“Me too.”
	“But we can’t, can we?”
	“No, squirt. Not for a long time.”
	
	The guards wheeled in a cart and parked it close to the table.
“Alright little boys,” one of the female guards, a tall muscular
black woman, said in a strict yet somehow motherly tone, “line
up.”
	The boys all left their places and stood in line in front of the
food cart. Ten growling stomachs belonging to ten starving hungry
growing boys.
	“Pour your own juice, grab the tray with your number from the
box and sit down,” the woman said. “You’ll get your soup when all
your little white butts are back on your seats. No one eats until
you’re told. Hurry up now.”
	Josh was first in line and quickly got his food. Chris joined
him at the table a few moments later. Alexei and Illya sat across
from them. Philippe Dulac, the French boy, was on Christopher’s
left. David Brown, Josh’s partner, sat at the far end of the
table with Ian Cloverdale, his fellow Aussie. The two English
boys and Danny O’Hanlon, the red-haired Canadian, took up the
remaining empty spaces.
	The boys’ supper consisted of the small plastic glass of fruit
juice, which each boy poured for himself from a cooler, two
slices of brown bread, half of an apple, and a piece of something
that appeared to be meatloaf. It was, in fact, a special mixture
of soy, tofu, vegetable paste and lentils that was designed to
ensure each boy remained on a high-protein, low-fat diet. A bowl
of rice and noodle soup was ladled out and placed in front of
each boy.
	This would be the boys’ supper for the duration of their
servitude. The dinner menu would never change, although the
younger boys would always receive less on their tray than the
older ones. Sharing was not allowed.
	The boys sat still in front of their bowls and trays, waiting
for permission to begin. Josh noticed there were no utensils and
pointed this out to his brother. The female guard, who appeared
to be in charge of the others, overhead the little boy’s comment.
	“That’s right, sweetie,” the black woman said. “You eat with
your hands or you don’t eat at all.”
	The boys looked up at her from the table. She was tall, young,
and very muscular. And she was indeed very much in charge of the
barracks and everything that happened inside it. “Listen closely,
little gladiators, I’m the matron here,” she said. “You don’t
need to know my name. From nine-thirty at night until eight in
the morning you boys belong to me and my guards. You will call me
‘Ma’am’. I don’t care what happens to you outside these walls.
When you are in the barracks, you will follow my rules. You don’t
want me giving a bad report to your trainers, do you?”
	“No, ma’am!” a chorus of ten boys shouted out.
	The matron smiled. “I see they’ve already put you in your
chastity devices. Poor little naked white boys, little white
penises all locked up.” The matron apparently found the boys’
state of affairs very amusing. “Alright, you can eat. You’re
allowed to talk, but you are to keep your voices down. None of us
here are interested in anything you boys have to say. Now eat.
You have thirty minutes.”
	The boys didn’t do much talking at first. They were all starving
and gulped their food down like ravenous animals. The matron and
the three other guards on duty left them alone.
	“What kind of things you guys think they’ll make us do?” Danny
O’Hanlon asked, darting his bright green eyes around the table.
	“Hope there’s lots of wrestling,” Josh answered with enthusiasm
and a mouth full of food.
	They all went around the table, talking up their skills in their
best sports. Chris, David, and Ian were all champion swimmers for
their age groups. Josh, Alexei, and Danny were fierce wrestlers.
Danny in fact had not lost a match since he was eight. Philippe
was a diver who almost qualified for the 2038 Olympics at age
thirteen. Miles was a runner, and of course a top-notch cricket
player. Illya’s sport of choice was gynmastics. Gabriel Shelton,
who seemed to be a boy of few words, excelled at soccer and
rugby.
	Needless to say, all the boys hoped that their sport would be
heavily featured in the competitions. Sadly, the boys’ definition
of sport, and the definition favored by William Durand and
Extreme Action Broadcasting would prove to be quite different.
	Every tray was clean and every bowl was empty when the matron
announced that feeding time was over. The boys were made to stand
beside their stools and hold their hands open, palms up, to
ensure none of them were trying to keep any food with them. They
were then ordered to line up once again and return their trays,
glasses and bowls to the cart.
	“You have bathroom time for the next fifteen minutes. Do
whatever you need to do.”
	Ian Cloverdale raised his hands. “Ma’am?” he asked, with his
eyes lowered in embarrassment.
	“What is it, Zero-Three?”
	“How do I . . . I mean, how are Josh ‘n Miles ‘n me supposed to
pee with these things over our privates?”
	The matron smiled. “Spread your legs, Zero-Three. Zero-Two,
crawl down underneath him and look up.”
       Ian spread his legs wide. Josh dropped to his hands and
knees and crawled beneath his fellow eleven-year-old’s legs. He
looked up and smiled. “Hey, there’s a little hole in the bottom
of it!”
       “That’s right. Your pee will just drip right out. You
three have to squat over the toilet though, or it’ll spray all
over the place. If any of you boys piss on my floor, you’ll be
licking it up, got it?”
	“Yes, ma’am,” the three youngest boys in their identical
chastity belts replied.
       “That goes for you big boys as well.”
       The older boys nodded somberly and as a group the ten boy
gladiators hurried off to the bathroom. Two of the male guards
went with them to keep the young teens and pre-teens in line. The
urinal was simply a trench in the floor with water constantly
trickling through it. Chris found he had to hold the metal cage
around his penis with both hands to aim it properly. With the
guards watching over him, it took him a few moments, but soon his
strong yellow stream was splashing into the trough.
       “Aaahhhh,” he groaned as he took his piss.
       Similar sighs and moans of relief were heard right down
the line as the seven older boys locked in their cock-cages
finally got to relieve their bladders. Chris quickly discovered
that it helped shrink his dick a little bit more, so that the
chastity device was not quite so tight. Josh, Ian and Miles
squatted over the three toilets, draining the urine from their
young bodies. Josh could feel the triangular metal plate filling
up with his warm pee. It felt neat, all that warm liquid against
his soft penis. It emptied out quickly though. He could hear it
dribbling into the bowl.
       While he was washing his hands he took a moment to try to
splash some clean water up into the little hole at the bottom of
the plate covering his genitals. He was uncircumcised and his mom
and dad had drilled it into his head since he was five that he
had to keep his penis very clean. It bothered him a lot that he
couldn’t. He felt dirty.
       The older boys were able to splash water over their
chastity cages and clean off their dicks. The younger boys could
neither see nor touch their penises. It seemed rather unfair to
Josh, especially since he could think of no reason why he should
have to wear the thing in the first place.
       “Sir, what if I get an infection down there?” he asked one
of the guards who was standing near him. He did not notice that
the man was staring rather hungrily at his cute perky
eleven-year-old butt and his slim, shapely, hairless legs.
       “You’ll get a chance to shower tomorrow, kid,” the man
said. “And we’ll make sure you get your little pecker nice and
clean.”
       Josh wasn’t sure he liked the way the man said that.
       The ten young gladiators returned to the common area and
stood at attention as the guards locked the boys’ shackles around
their wrists and ankles. The weight of the chains was still
giving most of them problems. The boys were then told to stand
next to their partner. They shuffled around for a few moments,
the chains at their ankles clinking and clanking on the floor,
until they were all once again in their assigned pairs.
       Chris once again found himself chained at the neck to
Alexei. The four remaining pairs were connected in the same way.
It was hardest for Miles and Philippe. The ten-year-old was very
small, barely four feet high. Fourteen-year-old Philippe, while
certainly a slim wisp of a boy, stood five feet four inches tall.
The chain itself was only two feet long. Philippe had to bend
down awkwardly, and Miles had to stretch his slender frame,
almost standing on his toes.
       Josh and David had a similar problem although the
difference in their height was not so pronounced.
       All of the other pairs seemed to be reasonably compatible
in height, and as long as they stood shoulder to shoulder the
boys could keep a comfortable amount of slack in the unforgiving
chain.
       “I hope we don’t have to run in these things,” Philippe
told his junior partner. His English was good, if heavily
accented.
       Little Miles nodded. Like all proud Englishmen he was not
particularly fond of things French, but Philippe was his partner
rather he liked it or not. “Just don’t drag me along behind you
when you start moving,” Miles said. “I’m a good runner. I’ll keep
up. Deal?”
       The chained boys shook hands.
       “Deal.”
       The trainers entered the barracks in their gray
military-styled uniforms. Each of them held an object in their
hand. It appeared to be a baton, two feet long. Jason Sanborne,
who turned out to be the head trainer, addressed the ten naked
boys as they stood chained to their partners.
       “Has anyone seen one of these before?” he asked, holding
up the baton and flexing it slightly between his hands.
       The boys all shook their heads.
       “It is called a prod. It is very useful for making sure
boys behave themselves and do as they are told. I will
demonstrate.”
       He stepped forward and stopped in front of Chris and
Alexei. He locked his eyes on his thirteen-year-old charge. He
spoke to him softly. “You’ve done nothing wrong,” he told the
boy, “but I need to make an example for the others and its going
to be you.” He opened the padlock that held the chain around
Alexei’s collar. The chain fell free and now hung heavy from
Christopher’s neck. Jason grabbed the chain and dragged Chris
forward with it.
       Chris had to stand there in front of all the other boys
and all the trainers and guards. He put his hands behind his head
when he was told to. He spread his feet as far as the chains
between his shackled ankles would allow. Jason then pressed the
end of the prod into the boy’s taut stomach.
       A mild electric shock hit him and he yelped and jumped
back.
       “Don’t move, Zero-Seven!” Sanborne yelled. “That was the
medium setting. It gets worse.”  He touched Chris with the prod
again, this time in the abdomen, just above the
thirteen-year-old’s little tuft of pubic hair. This time Chris
squealed and shrieked. It was a good thing he’d just pissed,
because he lost control of his bladder and a small sprinkle of
pee sprayed out his penis.
       “Lick that up, you filthy animal!” his trainer shouted.
       Chris glared back at him in defiance. He was NOT going to
lick up his own piss off the floor. “No,” he said softly.
       Jason wasted no time continuing the lesson in front of the
boys. He swung the prod hard and cracked it across the front of
Christopher’s thighs. The prod had a slight elasticity to it,
much like a cane. It left an angry red welt. Chris shouted
against the pain. “I won’t do it, sir! No matter how hard you hit
me.”
       “You have no idea how hard I can hit you, boy.” Jason
struck him again, this time across his shoulders.
       Chris was staggered by the blow and lost his balance for a
moment. Natasha, Alexei’s trainer stepped in and grabbed him
under his arm, holding him steady for the next blow, which fell
across the backs of his thighs. Chris was screaming now as Jason
began to beat him mercilessly with the prod, occasionally jamming
the electrified end into his flesh. The rest of the boys stood in
stunned silence. Josh was the first one to start crying, but soon
all of them had moist eyes, watching the thirteen-year-old being
repeatedly hit with that horrible stick.
       Finally Chris dropped to his hands and knees. He found the
tiny little puddle of piss that he’d squirted out onto the floor.
With his arms trembling he lowered himself until his lips touched
the concrete. He licked up his pee with his tongue. It was the
most humiliating thing he’d ever had to do. He was crying.
       “Stand up,” Jason said.
       “I . . . can’t, sir,” Chris replied. There was no defiance
in his voice. He simply could not stand up.
       Natasha helped him, again gripping her strong hands under
his arms and lifting him to his feet. A wicked grin crossed her
face. “Naughty boy. Your penis is getting hard, isn’t it?”
       Chris didn’t know what she was talking about. He was
scared and hurt and embarrassed and . . .
       ‘Oh my god!’
       His cock was swelling up inside the chastity device. Chris
was totally confused. How could his penis want to get hard after
all that? He felt the spikes digging in to his boy-meat and
groaned in agony.
       The other boys just looked on in silence. Sorry and
embarrassed for Chris but really happy it wasn’t them standing
there.
       “Do any of you have any questions?” Jason Sanborne asked.
       “No, sir!” the boys all shouted in unison.
       Jason placed the prod lengthwise under Christopher’s chin
and raised the boy’s eyes to his own. “You’re confused about
that, aren’t you?” he asked, gesturing down to the painful
hardness cruelly caged between the thirteen-year-old’s legs.
       Chris nodded.
       “I will teach you.” He handed Chris a tissue. “Now wipe
your eyes and blow your nose and go back to your partner. You
were very brave. I am proud of you. But do not ever tell me ‘no’
again. I am the head trainer. Any thing you do wrong reflects
badly on me. Understand?”
       “Yes, sir.” Chris did as he was told, handing Jason the
soiled tissue with a meager smile.
       “Alright, gladiators,” Jason shouted, “your training
begins tonight.”
       The ten naked boys were marched out of their barracks and
into the training facility. The camera crew was already set up to
record them being brought in, naked, collared and chained, each
boys’ genitals locked in a chastity device. The crew made sure
they good close-ups of each boy’s cute, innocent face, panning
slowly, artfully, down the length of their slim, hairless nude
bodies. The first live broadcast was still more than a week away,
but ‘film everything’ was the general standing order for the
camera crews. It would all be edited and compiled and
incorporated into the live footage of the contests. There would
be no aspect of the boys’ lives that would not be open for the
consumption of a rabid public.
       The chains that bound each of the boys to their partners
were removed, as were the chains connecting their shackles. The
trainers then led the boys through an intense regime of
calisthenics. Jumping jacks, toe-touches, deep knee bends, and
sit-ups. Chris got to hold Josh’s ankles for him while the
eleven-year-old completed the demanding set of one hundred
abdominal crunches. Chris couldn’t help but notice how muscular
his little brother had become recently. His stomach was now as
flat and well defined as Christopher’s own. They switched places
after Josh finished his hundred. Chris, being older, was required
to do one hundred and fifty. All the boys were quite tired when
they were made to do push-ups. Seventy-five for the boys twelve
and younger, one hundred for the thirteen and fourteen year olds.
The grueling exercise was made even more difficult as each boy
had his trainer’s foot pressed between his shoulders.
       “I want to see those little muscles straining,” a very
sadistic Hannah Dubose told a very sweaty and very tired Joshua.
He’d already managed to do twenty-three push-ups with the grown
woman’s booted foot pressing down on him.
       “Aw, come on, ma’am,” the eleven-year-old protested as he
lay on his stomach trying to catch his breath. “Let me up! It
isn’t fair.”
       “Poor baby. Keep going. And since you think it’s unfair,
you can do one hundred just like the older boys.”
       “Awww,” Josh moaned, but he did keep going. He didn’t dare
not to. His trainer was the most scary woman he’d ever met.

       “Stand up,” Jason ordered, removing his foot from
Christopher’s back after the boy had finished his last push up.
Chris groaned and got to his feet. From head to toe his entire
body was covered with a fine sheen of boyish sweat. The training
room was hot, the only relief coming from fans in the ceiling.
They did little to cool the boys down after their intense
warm-ups. Jason handed Chris a bottle of water. “Don’t drink it
too fast or you’ll get cramps.”
       The boy swallowed in big desperate gulps. He was so
thirsty. Jason pulled the bottle away from the boy’s lips.
       “That’s enough for now. You can have more later. Lets get
you on the weight machine.”
Jason had the thirteen-year-old sit down on the bench. Standing
in front of his young charge, he locked the boy’s ankles to the
leg press. “Lean back,” he said, resting his hands on the boy’s
firm, smooth, hairless thighs.
	Chris sat back until he came in contact with the backrest. Jason
drew a wide leather belt around the young teenager’s waist and
tightened it.
	“Grab the bar over your head,” he ordered.
	Chris did as he was told and watched in silence as his trainer
locked his shackled wrists to the bar with a pair of padlocks.
	“How many keys do you have for me, sir?” Chris asked, looking
hard at large ring of keys in Jason Sanborne’s hands. He gave his
trainer a little smile.
	“Enough to make sure you always stay exactly where I put you,
Zero-Seven. Now lets see how strong you are. I’ll adjust the
weights for you. Can you pull that bar down to your chest?”
	Chris straightened his back a little, gripped the ends of the
bar with his hands, and pulled down in a smooth, fluid motion,
his small firm young muscles barely straining. “Not a problem,
sir,” he said with boyish teenaged confidence.
	“Didn’t think it would be. Now your legs.”
	Chris took a breath and raised the leg press with little effort,
straightening his handsome legs and locking his knees before
lowering them again. “Easy.”
	“Good. Let me add some weight . . . “
	Chris heard the pins being pulled and replaced.
	“That should give those nice little muscles a good workout. Arms
down, legs up, keep going until I tell you to stop.”
	Chris went to work with the machine, discovering that Jason had
added quite a bit of weight, especially on his arms. After about
ten repetitions, Chris was panting and sweating and struggling to
keep his rhythm.
	“Alright. Slow down,” his trainer said. “You’ve never been on
one of these before, have you?”
	“No, sir. I’ve done free weights with my dad. That’s about it.”
	“You need to learn to control your breathing. You’re wasting all
your energy. You’re a swimmer. How do you breathe when you’re
really racing hard?”
	“Depends on the stroke, sir,” Chris answered, still fighting to
catch his breath. “Mostly I breathe between strokes.”
       “It’s the same thing on the machine. Breath goes in before
you press, breath goes out when you go back up. Now try again.”
 	Chris had better luck this time around. Soon he had established
a good, quick rhythm. He could see and feel the strain in his
muscles, but it wasn’t more than he could handle. In fact, as
tired and scared as he was about everything that was happening,
it felt good to be working his young muscles, tightening his
already trim and athletic body. The machine was a temporary
escape, and he was actually starting to feel pretty good about
things.
       “Stop. Time to add more weight,” Jason said with a smile.
       Chris stopped and waited, taking time to look around the
room. Danny O’Hanlon and Illya Casparev were on the other two
weight machines. Josh, Miles, and Alexei, were all on the
treadmills, running as fast as they could. Their wrists were
chained to the handles of the three machines. Gabriel, David, and
Philippe were strapped down to the rowing machines, struggling to
maintain the rapid pace their trainers were shouting out for
them. Ian Cloverdale was getting his first lesson with the free
weights. His trainer, a young black man named Anthony, made sure
the boy maintained a perfect posture by continually swatting the
eleven-year-old’s rear end with the prod.
       “Stand up straight, boy,” Anthony said with an English
accent. “You don’t want to find out what the end of this thing
feels like, do you?”
       Ian, locked in his chastity belt with the metal plate
snuggly covering his genitals, vigorously shook his head. Just
like Josh and Miles, the chastity belt made the eleven-year-old
appear to be completely flat between his legs, no little bulge at
all, as if he didn’t even have a penis and testicles down there.
       Chris was brought back to attention by a sharp crack of
the prod on his left thigh.
       “Don’t let your eyes wander, Zero-Seven,” his trainer said
sternly. “I expect your full attention at all times. Now start
again.”
       This time the weight was really too much for Chris to
handle. He couldn’t budge the leg press at all. He managed three
weak repetitions on his arms. Jason could see from the pained
look on the boy’s face that this was beyond him.
       “That’s almost twice your body weight, boy,” he said,
playfully tussling the thirteen-year-old’s blond hair. “You’ll
get there eventually. I’ll set it back a bit. I want fifty reps,
then you can have some water and take a break, before I chain you
to the treadmill.”
       “Gee, thanks,” Chris said under his breath.
       “I heard that, Zero-Seven. You can give me ten extra
repetitions for being such a little smart ass.”
       “Sorry, sir,” Chris said, casting his blue eyes to the
floor.
       ‘Not as sorry as you will be,’ Jason Sanborne thought to
himself with great pleasure.

Chapter 7:

	After two hours the boys were almost finished cycling through
all the equipment. Boyish grunts and groans filled the air, as
well as the strong sweet scent of ten young bodies sweating and
straining. Chris finished chained to the rowing machine. Standing
over him, Jason could see the soft line of blue veins in the
boy’s biceps and thighs, just a subtle hint, and a vein in the
thirteen-year-old’s neck standing out beneath his soft smooth
skin, the sign of a young boy pushing his slim body to extremes
of exertion.
	 There was no clock in the training room, so none of the boys
had any concept of how long they’d been forced to work out, they
only knew they were sore and exhausted. The trainers all wore
watches, but the boys were told they were never allowed to ask
the time.
	“You’re not to concern yourself with things like that, slave,”
Jason informed young Chris. It was the first time his trainer had
actually called him a slave. The word had been used a lot lately
of course, but always in general terms. It was the first time
that label had been applied to him directly and personally by
another human being. It stung. It scared him, especially the way
Jason hissed the word with contempt.
	Jason pulled a whistle from one of the pockets in his uniform
and blew it loudly. “Stop.”
	All of the trainers made their boys stop whatever grueling
exercise they were doing. All ten of the young gladiators were
panting and sweating. The boys were released from the machines.
They all stood doubled over, gripping their knees, trying to
catch their breath, innocently and unknowingly providing a
perfect display of their firm cute naked little butts. The
cameras naturally captured everything.
	The trainers stood next to their boys. Chris felt Jason’s hands
on his back as he bent at the waist, still breathing in short
rapid gasps. Then his trainer’s hands moved down and caressed his
rear end. No one had ever touched him there, not like that. It
sent some rather confusing signals through his body. He shuddered
involuntarily at Jason’s touch. He felt Jason’s fingers work
slowly into his tight little butt-crack. A single finger then
found his little hole.
	“Oh,” Chris whispered hoarsely in complete surprise.
	Jason kept his finger there, nestled firmly between the boy’s
cute round cheeks, pressing gently on the young teenager’s small
opening. Jason knew he could slide his finger inside the boy with
little resistance, but the time was not yet right for that. He
simply held his finger there, gently pushing against the boy’s
tight anal ring.
	“Oh, shiiiit,” Chris gasped through clenched teeth.
	It felt good. Having Jason’s finger there. The boy wondered how
it would feel to have it inside him. For the last few months he’d
been sticking his own finger in there whenever he masturbated,
but the thought of having Jason do it to him was strangely
compelling. His young dick began to swell inside the metal
chastity cage.
	Jason could tell the boy was becoming aroused and quickly pulled
his finger away. Chris let out a soft groan of frustration. Sure
it was embarrassing having a man stick his finger up your naked
butt, but it felt amazing. Chris decided he wouldn’t mind at all
if Jason did it again. Jason smiled wickedly, already enjoying
the power he had over this boy. He made Chris stand up straight.
The boy’s hands again went behind his head. Jason grazed his hand
over the thirteen-year-old’s chastity device. By now the spikes
were doing their work and young Chris was in a good bit of
distress.
	“You have to stop having erections, Zero-Seven, unless I want
you to,” Jason lectured the boy sternly.
	“I’m sorry, sir,” Chris said, wincing from the pain as the metal
spikes dug into his misbehaving penis. “It’s just . . . when you
touched me back there . . . I couldn’t help it.”
       “Learning to control yourself is going to be part of your
training, Chris. When I want your penis hard, it will be. I
expect you to keep it soft the rest of the time.”
       Jason turned his attention to the other trainers. “If
you’ve scheduled your boy for special training, take him to the
assigned room. If your gladiator is finished for the night, take
him back to the barracks. Medical will be giving each boy a
thorough examination tomorrow. Please be sure to check the
schedules.”
       Philippe, Alexei, Miles, Danny and Ian were all chained
once again and marched off to the barracks. Chris, Josh, Gabe,
Illya, and David remained in the exercise room with their
trainers. One by one they were led off to one of the smaller
training rooms. Josh looked back nervously at his big brother as
Hannah Dubose dragged him by the ring in his collar into room
number four. She made the boy close the solid steel door himself.
It clanged shut. Chris could hear it being locked from inside.
Now he stood alone with Jason Sanborne.
       “Hannah is a lesbian, of course,” Jason said. “But she
believes young boys should be taught to serve women and obey
them. Be glad you’re not Josh.”
       Chris bit his lip.
       “Come on. Don’t make me drag you like your brother.”
       Chris obediently fell in line behind his trainer and
followed him into room number six. Jason pulled the door closed
and locked it. The naked thirteen-year-old now stood in the room
with all this bizarre and unfamiliar equipment.
       There was a small computer workstation in the room. Behind
it was the only chair in the room, the only normal chair anyway.
There was another chair, wooden, with leather restraints built
into the arms and legs. Chris was staring at it open-mouthed.
Jason Sanborne’s personal laptop was already set up on the desk.
He sat down and switched it on and waited for it to connect to
the network. “Come stand in front of the desk,” the man said.
When the boy was standing in front of him, Sanborne looked up
from the computer screen. “Put your hands behind your head.
Spread your legs. Wider. That’s good. This is how I want you to
stand whenever we are in this room.”
	“Yes, sir.”
       Jason called up the company’s file on Christopher Andrews,
Boy 07. The nude photos he himself had taken of the
thirteen-year-old were displayed in one window, while the boy’s
vital statistics appeared in another. The schedule Jason had
developed for his young charge for the course of the next week
was also displayed. Every bit of information he or the other
staff might conceivably need on Boy 07 was here at one’s
fingertips. All of the boy gladiators had similar files in the
system. Jason could call up details on any one of them, any time
he desired.
       “There are a few questions you have to answer for me
before we begin. Tell me the truth.”
       “I will, sir.”
       “Good boy. Now . . . when did you start growing pubic
hair?”
       Chris didn’t have a hard time answering that one. He
didn’t have much hair down there to begin with, and he hadn’t had
it all that long. “About three months ago, sir, like a month
before I turned thirteen.”
“So you were twelve.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jason entered the data into the boy’s file. “When did you
ejaculate for the first time?”
“I’ve been able to do that since I was eleven, sir.”
“You developed early.”
“Yes, sir,” Chris said with some pride.
“Do you like girls or boys?”
Chris was silent for a moment, only because it was such a
personal question. “Boys, sir.”
“I thought so. That’s one thing we have in common. Have you ever
had sex with another
boy?”
“No, sir.”
“Do you think about it?”
Chris nodded. “Yes, sir. Often, sir.”
“I’m going to assume you masturbate. How often do you do it?”
Chris blushed and looked away. He really didn’t want to talk
about that. That wasn’t
anybody’s business but his own.
       “I need an answer, Zero-Seven. Once a day? Once a week?”
       “Couple times a day, sir, I guess. Whenever I want to
really.”
       “Well those days are over, young man,” Jason said,
pointing to the metal cage that encased the young teenager’s
dick.
       “I kinda guessed that already, sir.”
       “Smart boy.” Jason saved all the information and stood up.
“You’re wondering what’s going to happen in this room.”
       “Yes, sir. I don’t know what any of this stuff is for,
sir.”
       “Can you guess?”
       Chris looked around. “I’d rather not.”
       “You will be doing your special training here. Sometimes
it will just be you, other times one of the other boys will be
here with you. I might even arrange for it to be Joshua once in a
while, if you’re good. Since this is your first time, I’ve kept
the cameras outside. There are two of them in the ceiling,” Jason
pointed up and Chris followed with his eyes. There were two
bubbles in the ceiling with cameras mounted inside. “Everything
that happens to you in this room will be recorded, but I don’t
want a crew in here pointing cameras in your face, at least not
tonight. You’ll be having a hard enough time without worrying
about that.”
       Thirteen-year-old Chris was starting to get scared. Jason
was standing right in front of him now. He was at least a foot
taller than the slim naked boy. He put his hand under
Christopher’s chin and stared into the boy’s blue eyes.
       “Boy gladiators have to learn about pain. Your lessons
start tonight.”
       Chris backpedaled, looking up at Jason Sanborne’s suddenly
menacing figure. The man reached out and locked his fingers
around the ring on the boy’s iron collar.
       “Never back away, Zero-Seven.”
       “Wh . . . what are you going to do to me?”
       Jason’s answer was calm and nonchalant. “I’m going to
torture you. For several hours in fact. Nothing you do or say
will make me stop. You can scream and beg all you want. You will
probably lose consciousness a few times. But that will help me
discover your limits.”
	Chris was trembling. Jason tightened his grip on the collar
around the boy’s neck.
       “You should be frightened. But you will learn to be
fearless. If I am cruel to you, it is because I expect you to
excel in every contest. You will learn to endure pain. You will
not disappoint me. Go stand in front of that frame.”
       Jason pointed to a metal frame, about six feet high, and
four feet wide. Chains hung from pulleys in the top corners.
There was also a set of chains at the base of the frame. Chris
approached it slowly, like a boy walking to his own doom. He knew
the chains on the floor would soon be attached to the shackles
around his ankles, and that his wrists would be hanging from the
chains overhead.
       “Turn around and face me.”
       Jason worked quickly, chaining Chris to the frame and
adjusting the pulleys so the boy’s arms were raised above his
head and splayed outward toward the corners. His feet were placed
about three feet apart, spreading the boy’s legs wide. His ankles
were locked down. Chris was now immobilized and stretched across
the frame. Jason pulled the chains a little tighter, forcing the
boy to stand on his toes and causing the thirteen-year-old’s
torso to be stretched out. His ribs were clearly visible beneath
his skin. With a click the pulleys were locked. Chris wasn’t
going anywhere.
       Reaching into his pocket, Jason again removed the ring of
keys. He opened the padlock on Chris’ chastity device and removed
everything but the tight metal ring at the base of the boy’s cock
and balls.
       “I want your cock hard for this, boy.”
       The thirteen-year-old moaned and his penis hardened
instantly to its full six-inch erection. More than six inches
actually. Chris looked down at himself in amazement. His dick had
never been so hard, or so big, or so thick. His foreskin had
drawn all the way back, something that never happened on its own.
His dick was an angry dark red color. He had been leaking
constantly ever since Jason had locked the chastity cage in
place, and now pre-cum was dribbling from the end of his cock, a
long clear strand of it hanging down between his legs.
       Chris thrust his hips out, desperately hoping Jason would
take the hint and jerk him off.
Jason certainly did take the hint, but he ignored the boy’s
throbbing erection. He knew the thirteen-year-old was so sexually
aroused at the moment that the slightest touch to his genitals
would have the kid shooting his spunk like a cannon. He was not
about to let that happen.
       “Naughty little boy,” Jason said, observing the clear
fluid dripping from the young teen’s painfully engorged penis.
“You have absolutely no self-control. You should be ashamed of
yourself.”
	“I’m sorry,” Chris said, his face turning red. “I can’t help it.
I gotta cum so bad. Please . . . please let me cum.”
	Jason ignored the boy’s plea and went over to the small sink in
the corner. There was also a toilet there. Every one of the
special training rooms had one. He filled a paper cup with water
and picked up a bottle of pills from the desk before making his
way back to the naked boy bound to the metal frame. He took out
two small blue pills.
	“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”
	Chris obeyed. Jason put one of the pills on the boy’s pink wet
tongue and held the paper cup to his lips.
“Swallow.”
Young Chris had always had a hard time taking pills. He coughed
and choked and almost
had to spit it out. He held it in his mouth, the water was
already gone. He could feel it starting to dissolve. He looked at
his trainer with terrified eyes. Jason was surprisingly gentle
and patient.
	“Not a good pill-taker, ay? That’s unfortunate. Take your time
and start over.”
	Chris relaxed, took another sip of water and tried again. This
time the little pill went right down. Jason ran his fingers
playfully through the boy’s blond hair. “Good job. One more to
go.”
Again he placed the pill on the boy’s tongue and held the cup to
the youngster’s lips. Chris got this one down on the first try.
	“What were those?” the boy asked. He could still taste the first
one on his tongue.
	“Just a little something to stimulate your adrenal glands.
They’ll help you deal with the pain. They’ll also make sure your
cock stays hard for the next few hours, but you won’t be able to
cum. You’ll take these before every competition, and any time I
want you hard, like right now.”
	“Why, sir?” Chris asked. “I don’t understand. I mean . . . why
does it matter if my dick’s hard or not? I thought . . . I mean I
thought I was supposed to keep it soft all the time.”
	“Most of the time you are. And you will keep it soft until I
tell you otherwise, or I’ll punish you for having an erection.
But during some of the contests, we’ll want all of you boys
running around with nice hard dicks. You’ll be taking other pills
too, starting tomorrow after you see the doctor. Vitamin
supplements mostly. But you’ll also be getting one that will make
your penis grow  a lot bigger. By the time you’re fourteen, that
thing will be at least seven inches long when it’s soft. You’ll
have ten inches between your little hairless legs when you get
hard.”
	“Damn!”
	“Your indenture allows us to make certain minor modifications to
your body. Giving you a big huge cock is going to be just one of
them. You’ll be getting some piercings too, but not for a few
months. We need to break you in first.”
	“I’m really gonna have a seven inch dick?” Chris asked. He was
definitely not opposed to that idea.
	“That’s the plan. I can’t even imagine how big Josh’s is going
to end up.”
	Chris laughed. He often teased his little brother about his
oversized cock. “As long as it doesn’t end up bigger than mine.”
	“Joshua’s would end up longer than yours even without the drug.”
	“I know. Lucky little squirt.”
	“Don’t be so sure, kid. If there’s one thing I know Hannah
Dubose hates, it’s a little boy with a big wiener. Josh is in for
a very rough time.”
	“He’s gotta stay here for five years,” Chris said.
	“He’ll be a very well trained young man when he’s finally freed.
But that’s enough chatter from you.”
	Jason left the boy chained to the frame for a few minutes and
selected various items from their hooks on the wall behind the
desk. Chris watched intently. He could see each item as Jason
laid them out on a small cart. Everything was scary. Jason
wheeled the cart over and placed it directly in front of the
young boy slave.
	The first item was a ball-gag. The ball was a dark shade of red,
the straps of black leather. Chris was scared. He was going to be
tortured. He offered no resistance when his trainer forced the
rubber ball into his mouth. He was too frightened to do anything
but accept it. Jason pulled the leather straps tight behind the
boy’s head and buckled the gag. Chris quickly discovered that the
ball was very hard. Of course the thirteen-year-old had never
worn a gag before. His brother had stuffed a rolled up sock in
his mouth during one of their tie-up games, but that was the only
experience he’d ever had. He panicked and writhed in his bonds.
	Jason gave him a light smack to the face. “You can breathe,
Zero-Seven. Use your nose. That’s right. Get used to being
gagged. You’ll be wearing that thing quite often.”
	Chris nodded bravely and closed his eyes, getting used to being
able to breathe only through his nostrils.
	“Are you coping?” Jason asked after a few more seconds.
	Chris nodded.
	“I am not going to cause you any lasting injury,” Jason said
slowly. “I am going to cause you a lot of pain.” He rubbed his
hands over Chris’ nipples, pulling and twisting the little
dime-sized circles on the boy’s chest. No one had ever touched
him that way. Chris himself hadn’t even discovered their erotic
potential yet. It was a lesson he was learning right now.
       “Mmmmph,” he moaned into his gag. All that attention to
his nipples was causing the boy’s cock to jerk wildly. Chris felt
sure he was going to have an orgasm, it was building and
building, but just like Jason had said, he couldn’t cum. He
couldn’t. He wanted to desperately, but he couldn’t. His cock
continued to throb and bounce and jerk spasmodically. The feeling
was almost overwhelming.
       “Mmmmpphh!!” he groaned more forcefully, wiggling his hips
and straining against his chains, desperate to get his hands on
his frustrated dick. Jason just smiled knowingly and pulled a
pair of clamps from the cart. They were connected by a silver
chain. The trainer held them up so the boy could see them.
       “These are going to hurt. But they are really just mild
ones.”
       The young teenaged boy’s nipples were now hard. Jason
pinched the right one between his fingers and applied the metal
clamp. Chris hissed through his gag and clenched his fists. Jason
repeated the procedure with the boy’s left nipple. Chris hissed
again and let out a high-pitched wail. Jason stood back and
watched the boy struggle for about fifteen minutes.
       If these were supposed to be mild, Chris wondered what the
really bad ones must feel like. His whole chest was on fire. His
nipples were burning. Every time he writhed or moved or tried to
take in a deep breath, the pain doubled, shooting through his
young body like electricity. He begged his trainer to take them
off, but the only sound that escaped through the ball-gag was a
series of frantic unintelligible grunts.
       Ignoring the boy’s obvious distress, Jason worked the
thirteen-year-old’s hairless balls for a few minutes, at first
gently massaging them, then squeezing them tightly and harshly.
Chris shouted into his gag for the first time.
       Still holding on to the boy’s balls, Jason selected
another set of clamps and placed these on Chris’ smooth hairless
scrotum. This was not nearly so painful as the ones on his
nipples. If Chris hadn’t been watching, he probably would not
even have noticed them. Two more clamps were attached to the
boy’s dick, one just below the glans, the other further down,
digging in to the boy’s fully retracted foreskin.
       “A boy’s foreskin is very sensitive, Zero-Seven. Did you
know that?”
       Chris was discovering just how sensitive in that very
moment. The clamps on his dick were heavier and harsher, the ends
of them were toothed, so they dug into the boy’s organ without
mercy.
       Again Jason stepped back to give Chris a chance to feel
all the pain. The boy’s cock remained as hard as steel. Little
veins were beginning to bulge around the shaft now. Chris was
moaning continually, thrashing his head from side to side. The
pain was terrible, but his cock was so hard. He felt like he
would explode any minute. Once again he tried in vain to bring
himself off by thrusting his hips forward and back, but it did
him no good. He was fully erect, eager to shoot his thick
thirteen-year-old cum, but totally unable to achieve an orgasm.
He wondered just how long those pills would be working. Hours?
Days? Weeks? The thought of going even a few days without having
an orgasm was positively horrifying to him.
	 He was so lost in his state of sexual arousal and denial that
he did not notice his trainer attaching a series of thin wires to
the various clamps on his young hairless body. He did not notice
these wires being hooked to a small black box on the cart.
	“Boy!” Jason said strongly, slapping Chris across the face to
get his attention. “Pay attention. I’m going to run some
electricity through the clamps. Take one last deep breath.”
	Chris obeyed and eyed his trainer in giddy terror. Jason flipped
a switch on the black box and a red light glowed to life. He
turned a dial that Chris really could not see, then pushed a
single white button.
	Christopher Andrews shrieked into his gag. His entire body went
rigid, all of his muscles tensed as the electricity coursed
through his young one-hundred-and-two pound frame. Jason had the
device set to deliver short bursts of electricity every fifteen
seconds. He had selected medium voltage, enough to cause the boy
exquisite pain without risking any serious lasting damage to the
kid’s gorgeous tight little body.
	Jason experimented with increasingly higher voltages at longer
and longer durations. Young Chris was screaming pitifully into
his gag now, tears streaming from his wide blue terror-stricken
eyes, twisting and writhing against the chains that bound him to
the frame. Still his penis remained totally and painfully erect.
	Jason must have read the boy’s mind at that moment. “It’s not
going to kill you.”
	Chris was tortured like this for more than one hour. Finally,
Jason reduced the voltage down to its lowest level, but set the
box to deliver a continual current to the boy’s nipples and
genitals. Chris was sobbing. Drool was running down his chin from
the ball-gag, snot was running from his nose, pre-cum was oozing
out of the tip of his cock in a continual stream. There was a
small pool of it on the floor between the boy’s feet.
	“You’re a mess, boy,” Jason said. “Time to clean you up.”
	The man stepped behind him out of his line of sight. Chris heard
the squeak of a faucet being turned on. He shrieked when the
showerhead positioned directly above the metal frame (which he
had never noticed until now) opened up and a steady stream of
frigid water rained down upon his naked body. After a few minutes
it warmed up a bit, but it never actually got warm. Jason let the
stream of water and the stream of electricity both run for
another thirty minutes, tormenting the poor boy on the frame.
Even with the cool water running over his smooth bare skin, the
thirteen-year-old’s penis continued to point up toward his belly.
He’d been hard for almost three hours now, and he was no closer
to being able cum now than he was when it started.
 	Jason sat at the desk, typing notes into the boy’s file as
Chris continued to sob and suffer. After another ten minutes,
Jason got up and turned off the electricity. The water was still
running. He selected a tawse from the hooks on the wall behind
his workstation. Chris had his eyes closed, his head down in
exhaustion. He did not see it. Jason walked around behind him.
The boy’s behind was a perfect and beautiful target. Jason
whipped him for a good thirty minutes, eliciting a new round of
screams from the boy’s hoarse throat.
	Chris was really lost in another world at this point. He really
could not hear or understand anything Jason was saying to him.
All he knew was that he hurt and that he very much wanted it all
to end so he could go back to his little cell and go to sleep.
His cock was finally beginning to deflate, yet strangely his
desperate need to cum remained.
	Finally the tawse was laid aside and the water was turned off.
Chris hung from the chains now, unable to stand on his own. Jason
came round and stood in front of him.
	“Look at me, Zero-Seven.”
	Chris opened his tired eyes.
	“You were very brave tonight.” He reached behind the boy’s head
and unbuckled the strap that held the ball-gag. Chris spit it out
obediently. Jason took a moment to rub the kid’s sore jaw. “I’m
going to take you back to the barracks now.”
	“I can . . . I can sleeeep?”
“Yes. I’ll tell them to give you a small snack first. You’ve
earned it.”
       “Thank you, sir.”
       Chris dropped his head. Jason had to hold the boy up at
first, once all the chains were removed. As soon as the young
teen was able to stand on his own wobbly feet, Jason swiftly put
the boy back into his chastity device and snapped the padlock
closed. The pills had worn off, and Chris’ tortured four-inch
penis was now quite flaccid. It didn’t even harden when the metal
cage was locked around it.
       “Good boy,” his trainer said. “Keep it soft until you go
to sleep.”
       Chris was so utterly wasted from his ordeal that he had no
problem following Jason’s orders. When he got back to the
barracks, his shackles and his collar were removed. Only the
chastity device remained. The boy sat naked at the table and was
given his snack, a pack of cheese and crackers and another half
of an apple. All of the other boys were locked in their cells.
Jason tussled the boy’s hair, the only sign of affection he ever
seemed to give.
       “Go right to sleep, boy. You’ve got a session with medical
right after breakfast.”
       “Yes, sir,” Chris said, barely listening. He was too busy
crunching his sweet apple and enjoying his special snack.
       “None of the other boys got extra food tonight, so this is
just our secret, alright?”
       Chris nodded and yawned between bites.
       Jason spoke to the lone guard on duty. “Make sure he goes
to the bathroom and brushes his teeth. He’s not allowed to get
hard in that thing until he lies down. If his cock tries to swell
up, report it to me in the morning.”
       Jason left the barracks and took a leisurely stroll
through the warm tropical evening to his suite of rooms in the
staff housing area. There was air-conditioning and a fine bottle
of wine waiting for him. His first day with Boy Zero-Seven had
gone very well. The boy was going to be a star, no doubt about
it.

       Chris was taken to the bathroom after he’d finished
eating. The guard watched him while he sat on the toilet and
pissed. He tried to shit, but couldn’t. He was given a toothbrush
with his number on it and stood in front of the sink brushing his
teeth. He saw himself in the mirror. His face was dirty and
tear-stained. His hair was wet and tangled.
       ‘Goddamn, I look like shit.’
       And he felt every bit as terrible as he looked.
	The boy was marched to his cell and gently pushed inside. He was
allowed to find his bunk before the solid steel door was closed
and locked plunging the little room into darkness. Chris was
grateful his collar and shackles were gone, even though he knew
he’d be wearing them again in just a few short hours. He
stretched out on his mattress and pulled the thin sheet up over
his waist. His cock was still soft inside the chastity device. He
was happy for that. For the first time since he was
eleven-years-old, he did not even want to think about getting
hard. All he wanted was sleep, and it took him almost instantly.
	‘I think I made a big mistake,’ was the boy’s final conscious
thought.


Chapter 8:

	Chris woke up a few hours later. He was lying on his side. The
cell was dim, the only light coming through the barred and
heavily screened window. His nipples were still sore, and there
was a dull ache in his cock and balls. He’d sort of hoped he’d
wake up to discover everything had been a dream. It wasn’t. He
was still a slave. He was locked in a tiny concrete cell. There
was no way he could get out of it. He rolled onto his back and
propped himself up with this elbows. Chris’ dick was half-hard
inside the chastity device. He could just feel the spikes
pressing into the thick shaft of his boyhood, a constant and
painful reminder that he was not allowed to have erections
without Jason’s permission.
       The thirteen-year-old was leaking pre-cum constantly now,
even when his penis was soft. He could actually feel the thin
sticky fluid slowly working its way out of his dick. It was not
an unpleasant feeling, just weird. Chris didn’t understand why
the chastity device kept his dick wet and leaking, but he was
becoming aware of the fact that his cock would be locked away and
dripping like this for the next three years. He reached down and
fiddled with the padlock, tugging at the metal cage that encased
his now soft four inches. He could still touch his balls. They
were sore and swollen and aching. The metal ring at the base of
the boy’s genitals, which held the chastity cage in place, had
the added effect of forcing the boy’s ripe thirteen-year-old
balls up and out from his body, keeping them on lewd display at
all times.
	He was so desperate to cum, and his balls were so sore from
being tortured. He decided it was best not to touch himself at
all, even in the privacy of his dark little cell.  He kicked the
sheet off and got up. There was only about three feet between his
bunk and Alexei’s. The younger boy was sound asleep on his back,
his mouth hanging open, his chest rising and falling. Chris
walked over to the window. There were iron bars on the outside,
and a thick mesh screen on the inside. The mesh made it difficult
to see out, or for light to come in, but Chris discovered if he
pressed his nose right up against the screen, the mesh seemed to
disappear and he could see outside. The boy stood there and
crossed his arms on the concrete windowsill.
	It was raining outside. A soft gentle drizzle. There was no
glass in the window, so a warm breeze was blowing into the tiny
room. It felt good on the boy’s bare skin. Chris could see the
ten-foot high fence that surrounded the barracks. There were
lights on wooden poles to keep the area around the fence
illuminated. The razor wire glittered in the pale sickly yellow
light. Chris hadn’t really given any thought to trying to escape,
but the view out the window reinforced the fact that he was a
slave, and that this small cell would be his home for the next
three years.
	Alexei stirred and shouted something in Russian. He rolled over
onto his side and tried to go back to sleep, but the
twelve-year-old was experiencing the same frustration that had
awakened young Chris. He cursed in his native language and got
up. He joined Chris at the window, crossing his arms on the sill
just like the older boy.
	“I do not like this thing,” he said, running his hands over the
stainless steel cage that encased his dick.
	“We’re not supposed to,” Chris commiserated. “Is your dick
leaking?”
	“Da. It won’t stop.”
	“Mine too.”
	“Are you . . . o-kay?” Alexei asked.
	“Kinda.”
	“What did he do to you?”
	“I don’t really want to talk about it, alright?”
	“Da.”
	“If you put your nose right up to the screen, you can see
outside.”
	Alexei tried it, then stood back and smiled at the older boy. He
felt really lucky to be paired up with the cute, cool American,
for all sorts of reasons. He pressed his nose to the screen again
and stayed like that for a while. There wasn’t much to see out
there at night, just the fence and the razor wire, but it was a
change from the close gray walls.
	“It is raining,” Alexei pronounced.
	“Thanks, genius,” Chris laughed. “I figured that out myself
while you were still asleep.”	
	Chris looked outside again too, and the boys just stood there
for a few minutes, their shoulders touching lightly. Chris nudged
Alexei playfully and the younger boy nudged back. They carried on
that little contest for a while, then Chris felt Alexei’s hand on
his shoulder. He breathed deeply and relaxed. Alexei moved his
hand lower, down the gentle curve of the thirteen-year-old’s
back. His touch was light and timid. Chris put his hand between
Alexei’s shoulders. The twelve-year-old’s skin was warm and soft.
Without really thinking about it, Chris moved his hand down, just
like Alexei had done. Both boys now had their hands on each
other’s rear ends.
	They giggled and wiggled their butts for each other. Chris had
never really touched another boy this way, or been touched. He
and Josh had played around like brothers do, but this felt very
different somehow. The two boys timidly explored each other, each
enjoying the soft touch of the other. Chris found Alexei’s crack
and ran a single finger down its length. Alexei sighed and spread
his legs a little wider. Chris understood and worked his finger
in a little more deeply. It took him a minute to find the
twelve-year-old’s little opening. He moved around so he was
standing behind Alexei, his other hand on the younger boy’s
shoulder. The top of Alexei’s head came up to the height of
Chris’ chin. He could smell Alexei’s damp sweaty hair. He rested
his finger against the boy’s hole, pressing gently against it.
Chris knew how good it felt whenever he fingered himself there.
He pushed a little harder. And then he felt his finger slipping
up inside the other boy’s butt. Alexei gasped and sighed happily
and leaned back against him.
	Alexei’s voice was a soft high whisper in the night. “Would you
. . . would you do sex stuff with me . . . if we didn’t have to
wear these things?”
 	“Yeah,” Chris said. “Yeah.”
	Alexei moved forward and Chris let his finger slip out of the
young Russian’s butt. He couldn’t believe where it had just been.
He’d never even done that with Josh. He’d never even thought of
doing that with Josh.
	“My dick was trying to be hard,” Alexei explained.
	“Its okay. Guess we should go back to sleep, huh?”
	“Da. Sleep.”
	The two boys returned to their beds. Their playful exploration
had done nothing to relieve the tension and frustration that was
building between their young legs. Only their sheer exhaustion
allowed them to finally fall back into a fitful sleep. Chris knew
that when he woke up all those feelings would still be there, and
that his dick would still be leaking like a drippy faucet.

	At exactly eight in the morning, the steel doors of the boys’
cells were unlocked and flung open.
	“Wake up, boys!” the matron shouted. “On your feet and in front
of your doors! Don’t make us come in after you.”
	Ten tired naked boys stepped out of their cells, rubbing sleep
from their eyes and yawning. Lean, muscular, hairless little
bodies on display for the matron and her keepers. All of the boys
had been freed of their collars and shackles for the night, but
they all still wore their chastity devices.
	“Hands behind your heads,” the matron ordered.
	The line of boys obeyed instantly.
	“Get your little butts into the bathroom.”
	With their hands clasped behind their heads, the boys scurried
off to the bathroom, escorted by four keepers. There were only
three toilets in the barracks, so the boys had to take turns
relieving themselves while everyone else watched. All of the
boys, even the older ones, were forced to squat over the toilet.
After proving to have rather poor aim the night before, they were
not allowed to stand up to pee.
	Chris went in the first group. He sat down gingerly, his butt
still sore from the whipping Jason had given him less than eight
hours earlier. His bladder was nearly bursting, but he had a hard
time getting started with the keepers and all the other boys
watching and waiting. Finally he felt a strong stream of piss
traveling through his dick and heard it splashing in the bowl.
Pissing with the metal cage locked around his dick was an
interesting experience. It seemed to take forever for him to
drain himself. He tried to shit. He knew he needed to, it had
been two full days, but he couldn’t do it.
	“Come on, Zero-Seven,” one of the guards said, “take your dump
and get off the can.”
	“I’m trying, sir. I can’t.”
	“I’ll have to report you to your trainer.”
	There was nothing Chris could do about it. He got up miserably
and made way for the next boy. He was taken over to the shower
area and again told to stand with his hands behind his head.
Gabriel and Philippe were already standing there waiting.
	For Chris it seemed to take forever for all of the boys to
finish on the toilet. Josh was the very last boy to go. It was
agony for him to have to stand and wait and watch all the others
relieve themselves while he held in his morning piss. When all
the boys were lined up in the shower area, hands clasped behind
their heads, the matron and two of the guards went down the line,
ordering each boy to spread his legs so they could remove the
chastity devices.
       One at a time, each boy’s genitals were freed from their
tight constraints. The older boys had their cock-cages removed,
along with the spike attachment and all the necessary bits and
pieces that made the thing fit so snuggly. The steel rings
however remained firmly in place around their young genitals. The
three younger boys had their leather belts with the attached
metal plates removed. Each boy’s device was placed in a cloth bag
that bore his number. The bags were hung on hooks on the wall
opposite the showers.
       “Keep those little dicks soft,” the matron warned them.
       With their genitals freed from the harsh devices, all of
the boys had a hard time obeying that particular order. Chris and
a few of the older boys were showing definite signs of arousal,
standing there half-hard, pre-cum glistening on the tips of their
young teenaged dicks. Ten-year-old Miles sported a nice little
circumcised boner, all two and ¾ inches of it, jutting straight
out from his hairless groin and bobbing up and down rather
amusingly. Poor little Josh with his not-so-little cock was the
worst offender, his eleven-year-old organ springing up to its
full oversized five-and-three-quarter inches in a matter of
seconds.
       “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, red faced, when the matron
glared at him.
	“Your trainers had better teach you boys how to control
yourselves. I don’t want you shooting your filthy spunk all over
my floor.”
	“Sorry, ma’am,” all ten boys said in chorus.
	The guards handed each boy a thin wash cloth and a small bottle
of blue disinfectant gel-soap.
	“Get under the showers. You have five minutes to wash up,” the
matron explained. “Make sure you clean between your toes and
behind your ears. I want your little asses clean too. You are not
to touch your genitals. We will take care of that for you. When
you are done, step forward and keep your hands at your sides.
	There were ten showerheads, spaced about two feet apart. The
boys stepped under them and the matron turned the master valve.
Frigid water sprayed over their young bodies. They sputtered and
shivered. Josh’s erection disappeared almost instantly.
	“Soap up, you filthy animals,” the matron shouted over the
sounds of shrieking freezing teeth-chattering boys.
	The disinfectant smelled terrible. The boys scrubbed themselves
quickly, trying to step out of the icy spray whenever they could.
The matron would not allow it.
	“Get back under the water. Wash your hair.”
	After just two minutes, the first of the boys stepped forward,
droplets of water glistening on their smooth hairless skin. No
boy stayed under the water for the full five minutes. Alexei was
the last to finish.
       With the freshly-cleaned boys all lined up and waiting,
the guards snapped on latex gloves, squirted disinfectant onto a
sponge, and vigorously scrubbed each boy’s cock and balls. Chris,
Josh, Alexei, Ian, Illya and Philippe were all uncircumcised and
had to endure the further humiliation of having their foreskins
roughly pulled back and cleaned. Not one of the boys got an
erection during this ordeal.
       The cloth bags that held each boy’s chastity device were
hung around their necks, and the naked lads were ordered back to
the commons area. They sat down at the table in the same seats
they’d occupied the night before.
	The Andrews brothers were happy to see each other. Chris noticed
before Joshua sat down next to him that his little brother’s butt
and back were covered with thin angry red stripes. He wondered
what exactly Josh’s trainer had done to him.
	“Holy shit, Josh . . .!” Chris exclaimed as he examined the
eleven-year-old’s well-striped backside up close.
	“I know,” Josh said softly. “She hit me really hard. I didn’t
cry though.”
	“Wow. You did better than me. I was cryin’ like a baby. Did she
make you keep your dick hard the whole time? Jason did that to
me.”
	Josh gave his brother a puzzled look. “No. She never even took
my belt off.”
	“I wanted to cum so bad. Still do.”
	“Me too.”
	Chris laughed at his little brother. “You can’t even shoot yet,
squirt. It’s different for you.”
	“Is not.”
	“Is too.”
	“Is not.”
	The brothers’ argument was cut short by breakfast. Once again
the boys lined up in front of the meal cart, all of them
completely naked with their chastity devices hung in bags around
their necks. All of their eyes lit up when they saw what was on
the trays. Eggs and pancakes, an orange, and two strips of bacon,
the only real meat the boys would get each day. They were
starving and devoured their morning meal in no time at all.
	At nine their trainers arrived for them. Each boy stood at
attention while his trainer locked the iron collar around his
neck and put the thick heavy shackles on his slender wrists and
ankles. The boys were then locked into their chastity devices.
	The matron gave each of the trainers a brief report on their
boy’s behavior in the barracks. Hannah Dubose was told about
young Joshua’s shameful erection. In fact most of the boys were
given a bad report on that score, as each of them had exhibited
at least half-hard dicks after the chastity devices had been
removed. Only Daniel O’Hanlon had managed to keep his penis
completely soft.
	“Ten demerits for Joshua,” Jason Sanborne announced, “and two
demerits for the rest of you. Zero-Five, you don’t get any points
for keeping it soft, since that’s what you’re expected to do.”
	Jason went on to explain the points system. “Any time you break
a rule, show any disrespect or disobedience, or perform
particularly poorly at an assigned task, you will be given
demerits. Any time you win an event or contest, or please your
trainer in an exceptional way, you will earn bonus points. You
will all learn it is much easier to earn demerits than points.
Most of you will be in the negative most of the time. At the end
of each week, the boy with the lowest score will receive special
discipline and punishment. The two boys with the highest scores
will be given a reward. At the end of each month, the lowest boy
will receive some minor body modification, as a reminder of his
poor behavior and performance.”
	"What's modficationed mean?" ten-year-old Miles innocently
asked, raising his hand timidly.
	"Modification,” Jason corrected him gently. “To you it means we
will be piercing certain parts of your bodies, or tattooing them,
or branding them. Several of you already have an earring. You
might find rings inserted into other parts of your bodies as
well.”
	The boys could all imagine just what parts Jason was talking
about and quickly brought their legs together, more than a few of
them clasping their hands over their genitals before remembering
that was forbidden.
	Jason continued. “Your indentures allow us to do this to you
with certain limitations. You will live with whatever
modifications you are sentenced to for the entire time you are on
the island, but all of them are reversible. None of you will be
permanently damaged. That’s against your best interests and the
company’s. I said these procedures would be minor, but minor does
not always mean painless. Trust me that none of you want to be
the loser at the end of the month."
	All of the boys shivered, especially Josh who quickly did the
math in his head and realized he was already eight points behind
everybody else. Hannah curled two of her fingers around the ring
on the eleven-year-old’s collar. “I’m not going to punish you for
your erection this morning. We’ll save that for the end of the
week. I know you’re going to fuck up a few more times.”
	“I won’t, ma’am,” Josh said, looking up at her with earnest
moist eyes. “I promise I’ll do better.”
	“We’ll see.”
	The matron also informed Jason of Christopher’s inability to use
the bathroom. “I’ll be sure medical takes care of that,” his
trainer said.
	Once again the boys were chained to their partners by their
collars. They were marched out of the barracks one team at a time
with their trainers walking behind them, prod in hand. It was
already hot and humid, the morning sun blazing down in a
cloudless sky. The camera crews were outside the fence, filming
the ten boys as they marched by in chains. All of the boys had
their heads down. None of them wanted to look into the camera.
Chris had been excited about the prospect of being a TV star.
Suddenly it didn’t seem like such a good thing after all.
	The trainers led their boys back to the training facility. There
they were told their schedules for the day. Chris and Alexei
would be the first team to be taken to medical for their
examinations. Their trainers refused to say exactly what was
going to be examined, or how. The two boys were very nervous
young men as they stood outside the door to the infirmary,
waiting for the doctor and the nurses to get everything ready for
the first exams of the day.
       Three other teams were assigned to weight training. David
and Josh were taken outside by their trainers and told to spend
the morning running along the marathon course that covered the
entire island. The catch, of course, was that they had to make
the run while still wearing their chains. Ankles chained. Wrists
chained. And the two boys chained to each other by their collars.
Little four-foot-six-inch Josh fell down almost immediately and
was dragged a few feet before David realized what happened.
	“Shit,” the older boy said, turning around and pulling the
little boy up. Josh’s knees were already skinned. “Listen, kid,
you have to keep up or you’ll be a bloody mess.”
	“Don’t run so fuckin’ fast,” Josh said. “You’re legs ‘r like
twice as long as mine.”
	“So’s my cock,” the fourteen-year-old smirked.
	Josh stared at him. That was a total lie. For his age, David
actually had one of the smallest penises in the group. “Mine’s
bigger than yours already, and I’m only eleven. So who’s really
got the small wiener?”
	David wasn’t a mean kid at all, just really scared and really
afraid of what might happen if he and Josh didn’t do well.
“Sorry, kid,” he said, helping scrape the dirt and mud off Josh’s
legs. “Everything’s just so fucked up right now.”
	“I know. Let’s just run, okay?”
	“Right.”
	With a twelve-inch difference in height, it was hard enough for
the two boys to walk, let alone run while chained together. But
after a few more false starts and trips and falls, and a bloodied
banged-up knee for Josh, they worked it out. Josh had to move his
legs a lot faster to keep up with fourteen-year-old David’s long
graceful strides, but he was a sturdy muscular little kid and
wrestling had given him a lot of stamina. He powered along beside
his partner, and soon the two boys were running the grueling and
treacherous course at a fair speed. Hannah, and David’s trainer
Michella, rode twenty feet behind the boys on a four-wheeler.
Close enough to keep the two young slaves motivated, but far
enough back that they wouldn’t run them down if they had another
fall.
	Michella, whose views on males were if anything more harsh than
Hannah’s, shouted at the boys in a constant barrage of degrading
insults and threats of punishment if they failed to keep a decent
pace. The two young women kissed passionately on more than one
occasion, enjoying the site of two hairless naked boys chained
and struggling in front of them.
	Back at the training facility, the door to the infirmary was
opened by a woman about the age of Chris’ mom. She wore a white
lab coat with the XB1 logo on the shoulder.
       “We’re ready,” she said, gazing at the two naked young
teens. “You can bring them in now.” Jason and Natasha pushed
their boys forward. No kid likes a visit to the doctor. Chris and
Alexei were going to particularly dislike this one.
       The infirmary consisted of a private office for the
doctor, a large examination room with two flat metal exam beds
and two odd metal chairs with leather padding that looked to
Chris like the kind you would find in a dentist’s office. There
were cabinets with glass doors along the walls. Chris could see
they contained all sorts of bottles and tools. There was a sink
for the doctor and her team of nurses to wash up. There was also
a toilet in the corner, and another open shower which was little
more than a drain in the tile floor and a showerhead curving out
from the wall.
       Chris had a feeling he’d be showering in front of everyone
again. He had never been an overly modest boy, but he had grown
up with the crazy idea that when you took a shower, there was
supposed to be a door and a curtain between your naked butt and
the world outside.
	There were three other people in the room, all in the same white
lab coats, and all young women just out of school. The oldest of
them was only twenty, the youngest just eighteen. All these women
in this one room, and two naked boys. It was more than Chris and
Alexei could take and they instinctively covered themselves.
	“None of that, boys,” Natasha said in her thick Russian accent,
slapping their hands away from their groins.
       “You know where your hands are supposed to be,” Jason
added. “That’s two more demerits for you both.”
       Chris and Alexei groaned in protest but quickly clasped
their hands behind their heads.
       “Come in, boys,” the doctor said. “No need to be shy.
We’re all going to get to know every inch of your bodies soon
enough.”
       The twelve and thirteen-year-old boys blushed and stepped
into the center of the examination room. The doctor was standing
between the two metal tables. Her three assistants on either side
of her.
“My name is Allison Trench. I am a doctor specializing in the
special needs of young
boys. You will address me as ‘ma’am’. These are my assistants,”
she said, gesturing to the three young women beside her. Chris
had already figured out he was gay, but he still noticed how
pretty the three young women were. Allison Trench wasn’t all that
bad looking either, for a doctor. “You will address them as
‘miss’ and treat them with the same respect you treat your
trainers. When you are in this room, you will do exactly as we
say, is that understood, boys?”
	“Yes, ma’am,” the young pair answered quickly, their young
voices soft and frightened.
	“Oh, they are just so polite,” one of Trench’s assistants said.
She had brown hair, pulled back into a tail. She wore an ID card
that gave her first name as Karin.
       One of the others, a blond who appeared younger than the
rest, stepped toward the two boys. “And they look so cute with
their little cocks locked in their chastity cages.”
	Chris took in a sharp gasp as the woman put her hand between his
legs and toyed with his tightly encased penis, tickling his balls
with a single finger. Chris had already lost count of how many
people had touched his boy-parts in the last two days. It was so
embarrassing, to have your cock locked up and on display like
that. His private parts had suddenly become very public. Anyone
who wanted to could touch him there and there was nothing he
could do about it.
	“Poor little boy,” the young woman said. “You can’t get hard in
that thing, can you?”
 	“No, miss,” Chris heard himself answer as the blood rushed to
his ears turning them a dark crimson.
	“Look at his ears, Anna,” Karin said, “I think you’re
embarrassing him.”
	“Am I?” the blond apparently named Anna asked sweetly, her
fingers now playfully swirling through Christopher’s wispy blond
tuft of pubic hair. “This one already has some hair around his
dick,” she announced to the others. Chris’ pubic hair was so
light and so sparse that it could perhaps have been missed,
although Chris found the whole thing terribly humiliating.
	“Wait, the smaller one has some too, see,” Karin said, pointing
to twelve-year-old Alexei’s groin. “Just a few little hairs, but
they’re a lot darker.”
	“We will have time to examine them thoroughly,” Trench told her
over-eager young nurses. She then turned to address the two boy
slaves.
	“We will be giving you a complete physical examination, and I do
mean complete,” she said with a wicked smile. “But first, I am
afraid we are going to have to remove all the hair from your
bodies . . . “
	“All of it, ma’am?” Chris whispered.
	“You can keep the hair on your heads, but that will be the only
hair you are allowed to have. Boy slaves are completely
hairless.”
	Chris looked down at the downy blond hairs above his cock. He’d
just started growing them a few months ago.
	“Yes, we will be removing that too. From the looks of things,
it’s the only hair either of you have right now.”
	That was certainly true. Aside from their sparse little pubic
tufts, Chris and Alexei were smooth and hairless. If you looked
very close, you could see some boyish blond fuzz on Christopher’s
legs, which had been there since he was about five years old, but
there wasn’t very much of that.
	The two boys looked at each other in horror. Their trainers
gripped their collars from behind.
	“You two will do everything the doctor and her staff tell you.
If we hear you’ve misbehaved, you will spend the rest of the day
in one of the special training rooms.”
	Alexei had not experienced that yet, but just the thought of
those electric clamps on his cock and balls and nipples made poor
Chris shiver.
	“I’ll be good, sir, I promise,” he said.
	Alexei nodded that he didn’t plan on causing any trouble either.
	Jason and Natasha removed the two-foot chain between the boys’
collars. At Doctor Trench’s instructions, the chains attached to
the shackles at their wrists and ankles were also taken off and
hung on a pair of hooks by the door, one set for each boy on its
own hook. Before they left, the trainers took the keys to the
boys’ chastity devices and handed them Allison Trench. The young
doctor smiled, anticipating the interesting morning that was in
store for her and her two cute young patients.

Chapter 9:

	“Alright boys,” the doctor said sharply. “I had your chains
removed so you would be a little more comfortable. I don’t think
it is necessary to keep you boys chained like that all the time,
but I don’t make the rules on the island . . . just here in the
infirmary. But don’t get the wrong idea. My girls and I will make
you wear the chains again if you give us any trouble. That means
you do exactly as you are told, when you are told to do it. No
whining. And no talking unless one of us asks you a question.”
	The boys nodded quickly and obediently.
	“Follow Anna and Terri over to the shower.”
	“Come on, little cuties,” Anna with her golden-blond hair said.
Terri seemed to be the oldest of the three medical assistants,
her hair long and black.
	The young women made the boys stand on the shower tiles and
proceeded to inspect their nude bodies very closely. Allison
Trench stood near-by watching her two aides.
	“Raise your arms over your heads, boys,” the doctor told them.
	The boys obeyed revealing their smooth hairless armpits.
	“Keep them up there. Anna, Terri, check them from head to toe
for any hair.”
	Terri inspected twelve-year-old Alexei, while Anna thoroughly
examined Chris from the blond hair on his head all way down to
the tips of his perfect boy-feet.
	Anna looked very close and noted the thin soft young boy hairs
on Chris’ arms and legs. “He’s basically hairless, ma’am,” she
reported, “except for his pubic hair. He has some little hairs on
his legs and arms, but he’s probably had that since he was a
baby.”
	Allison Trench nodded. “Doesn’t matter, dear. It has to go. Have
him bend over and present his rear end to you. He’s thirteen, so
check him closely.”
	Chris was ready to die of embarrassment. Anna made him bend over
and grab his ankles. With his head down between his legs, he
could see the blond-haired woman staring at his butt. Behind her,
Doctor Trench was looking on with an amused smile on her face.
	“I can’t really see much, ma’am,” Anna said. “What should I look
for.”
	“Check his perineum . . . the skin between his anus and his
scrotum. Is it hairless?”
	“Yes, it is.”
	“Spread you cheeks, boy, and let Anna look at your little
pucker.”
	Chris let out a miserable sob, but did as he was told, gripping
his hands on his butt and spreading his cheeks.
	“Does he have any hair back there, Anna?”
	“None at all, doctor.”
	“Good.”
	Terri, older and more experienced than Anna had finished
inspecting Alexei without the need for the doctor’s direction.
Alexei was found to be even more hairless than Chris, if that was
possible.
	“So it’s pubic hair and a little bit of baby-boy fuzz,” the
doctor said with a smile. “Karin, is the depilatory cream ready?”
	“Yes, doctor,” Karin said, rather disappointed that she had
missed out on the fun of inspecting the cute muscular bodies of
these young boys.
	All four of the women snapped latex gloves on their hands, and
passed a squeeze bottle back and forth, depositing a large amount
of thick green gel in their palms. To Chris it looked a lot like
toothpaste, but it had a strong unpleasant smell.
	Anna and the doctor began rubbing the green goo all over Chris’
young body, concentrating on his pubic area, rubbing it all over,
and under his ball-sack.
	“Make sure you get the backs of his legs,” the doctor instructed
Karin and Terri who were working on Alexei.
	“He doesn’t have any hair there,” Terri commented.
	“Not now, but he would in a few more years. We might as well
stop that from happening right now. You see, boys,” she said,
turning her attention to the naked young males presently covered
in green slime from their necks to their ankles, “this stuff
removes all the hair from your bodies and kills the follicles,
even the ones that haven’t starting sprouting hairs yet. Once we
spray you down, the only hair you’ll have will be whatever’s on
your head.”
	“It’ll  . . . it’ll grow back, won’t it, ma’am?” Chris asked
softly. He could feel his skin tingling, especially down between
his legs.
	Allison Trench swatted the thirteen-year-old’s behind. “No
talking. And to answer your question, no, it will not grow back,
at least not for four or five years. You might sprout a stray
hair here and there, but you will basically be permanently
hairless.”
	Chris’ mouth dropped open in shock. The doctor smacked his bare
behind again.
	“Close your mouth, boy, you look like an idiot. Your indenture
allows us to make a few modifications to your body. This is the
first one. I can promise you it won’t be the last.”
	Chris remembered Jason telling him about the pills he’d have to
take, the ones that would make his dick grow longer.
	‘Oh god,’ he thought to himself. ‘I’m gonna be a big-dicked
hairless freak!’
	“Now you boys just stand there and stew for a few minutes, then
we’ll wash you down.”
	And stand there they did, naked and covered in smelly green gel
while the women talked and joked and basically ignored them.
	“You know it’s really strange,” Karin said, “over one hundred
people on this island just to take care of ten boys. I mean
what’s all the fuss, they’re only slaves, right?”
	“Legally yes,” Allison Trench answered, “but from a practical
stand-point it’s a lot more complicated. In return for signing
the indenture, each boy got five million dollars, and another
half a million went directly to the boy’s families. So they are
really a rather large investment for the network. If any of them
are permanently disabled or get sick and can’t compete, XB1 loses
a lot of money.”
	“Five million!” Anna said, staring over at the two naked boys.
“Those little shits get five each?”
	“William Durand wanted the best athletes, good boys from good
homes. Boys who are bright and handsome and weren’t already
slaves.”
       “From what I’ve seen he got them,” Karin said. “They’re
all cuties, just like these two.”
       “And that doesn’t come cheaply these days,” Doctor Trench
reminded them. “Besides, if you had even the faintest idea of all
the terrible things these boys are going to be put through before
their indentures expire, you’d probably say five million isn’t
nearly enough. I’m sure most of them are having second thoughts
already. What about it, boys?” she asked, turning her attention
to the young pair still covered in green goo. “Still happy you
signed on?”
       “I think I should have asked more questions first, ma’am,”
Chris said honestly. “I don’t like being a slave.”
       “That is the whole point, young man,” the doctor said.
“But you signed away your freedom fair and square, and now you’re
stuck with it.” She looked down briefly at her watch. “Times up.
Let’s get that stuff off you.”
       Chris and Alexei stood under the shower. The water was
warmer than back at the barracks, but just barely.
       “Just wipe the gel off with your hands, boys,” Anna told
them.
       In less than a minute it was all gone and so was every
single hair on the boys’ bodies. The thought that it was
more-or-less permanent was still giving Chris trouble. He felt so
humiliated as he watched the last of his blond pubic hair swirl
down the drain. The thirteen-year-old was completely smooth down
there now, just like his little brother.
       After another quick inspection, the boys were given towels
and told to dry off.
       “Come over to the examination chairs when you’re done,”
Anna said.
       With his hair still dripping, Chris walked over to the
strange looking chairs with the leather padding. The doctor gave
him a smile. “Hop up there, boy.”
       “Yes, ma’am.”
       Chris climbed up into the chair. There was a padded rest
for his head. He noticed that his butt sort of hung over the end.
His legs didn’t reach the floor.
       “Put your feet in the stirrups,” Trench ordered, raising
the two metal contraptions into the horizontal position.
       Looking down the length of his body, Chris could see what
he was supposed to do and placed his feet in the metal braces.
The doctor and Karin quickly clasped his shackles to the
stirrups, locking his ankles in position. Leather restraints were
then tightened over the boy’s thighs.
       “Rest your arms at your sides.”
       The shackles around his wrists were locked down to the
chair, and another leather restraint was drawn across his chest
and buckled just tightly enough to keep him still.
       “Alright, we’re going to lay you back now,” the doctor
said.
       A few seconds later, Chris was completely horizontal, his
legs stretched out in the stirrups. They moved the chair back a
little further until the boy’s head was slightly lower than his
hips. He got a quick rush of blood to the head but adjusted
quickly. Karin then repositioned the stirrups, bending the boy’s
legs up toward his chest and spreading them wide apart. Chris
blushed and squirmed in the chair. In this position he was
embarrassingly and helplessly exposed, with all of his most
sensitive parts on display. Next to him, twelve-year-old Alexei
was strapped down to the other chair in the same manner.
       “Alright, girls, lets flush them out before we go any
further.”
       Clear plastic bags on IV stands were rolled into position
between the boys’ legs. Chris could see both bags were full of
fluid and that his was fuller than Alexei’s. A long clear tube
ending in a thin white nozzle hung down from the bottom of the
bags.
       Alexei, who recognized what the bags were for, began to
wiggle around in his bonds, begging them in Russian not to do it.
Chris wasn’t really sure what was going to happen, but the length
and shape of those white nozzles made it fairly obvious where
they would ultimately be going. Soon he too was looking at the
young women with pleading frightened eyes.
	“Looks like they both know where those tubes are going,” Terri
observed with a laugh.
	“Then let’s not disappoint them,” the doctor said.
	The nozzles were lubricated and forced not too gently into the
boy’s rectums. The twelve and thirteen-year-old’s both shouted
and tried to keep the things out of their butts.
	“Oh come now,” Allison Trench scolded them, “the nozzles aren’t
that big. Just relax and behave yourselves. You’re getting enemas
to clean you out. Yours will be a small one,” she said to Alexei.
“Yours,” she turned her face to Chris, “will have to be a lot
bigger, since I’m told you aren’t going to the bathroom.”
	“I just couldn’t go, ma’am,” Chris explained. “I tried to . . .
“
	“Well, now we’re going to help you.” She put her hand over his
stomach and pressed gently. “You’ll feel a lot better when it’s
all finished.”
	Chris somehow doubted that.
	Doctor Trench signaled her assistants who opened the clamps on
the hoses. A few seconds later both boys gasped and let out a
high-pitched groan as the water slowly began to fill them up.
Chris squirmed and curled his toes. He balled his hands into
tight fists and closed his eyes. He was already feeling the
pressure deep inside.
	“Aaaggh,” he moaned. “Ohhh . . . gawd . . . oww . . . please
stop . . . “ he trailed off in a series of soft sad little grunts
and groans.
	“You’ve only got about half of it inside you, Zero-Seven,” the
doctor said.
	“It’s killing me!”
	“No it isn’t. Don’t be such a little baby. You can take all of
it.”
	Chris moaned again and raised his head. Between his legs he
could see the liquid in the bag slowly draining through the hose
and entering his butt. He could feel it going up inside him.  The
thirteen-year-old’s stomach was now starting to swell up and he
felt all squishy inside. Then the first cramp hit and he screamed
out loud, a high piercing shriek.
	“Take it easy, cutie,” Anna said, standing next to him and
wiping the sweat from his forehead with a soft rag. “Just breathe
through it. That’s right.”
	The cramps continued for a few minutes, causing Chris to sob
fitfully. He didn’t even realize that the enema bag was almost
empty.
	“Good boy,” Trench praised him moments later.
       Chris finally noticed the bag was empty, all the liquid
was sloshing around inside him now. He looked at the two women
with pleading eyes.
       “I gotta go to the bathroom,” he begged softly.
       “Not yet,” Anna replied, gently massaging the boy’s
distended belly.
       “Awww, that hurts, miss.”
       It did hurt. Chris felt like his stomach was a balloon
about to burst.
       “You just hold everything in until we tell you,” the
doctor ordered. “And don’t you dare shit all over my floor, young
man.”
	Next to him, Alexei was being released from his chair. Karin and
Terri helped the boy shuffle over to the toilet, the nozzle and
the plastic hose still sticking out of his butt. He got down on
all fours and clenched his eyes closed and concentrated hard on
keeping all the water inside him while Karin pulled out the
nozzle. He scrambled onto the toilet the second the nozzle was
out and emptied his guts with a loud cry of relief. The
twelve-year-old sat there for ten minutes expelling all the
liquid and everything else inside him. Chris could hear his new
friend moaning and whining. He couldn’t wait until it was his
turn, the urge was becoming unbearable.
       “Aaagh . . . get off the fuckin’ toilet, Alexei,” Chris
pleaded, still bound to the chair. “I really gotta go bad!”
       “What do you think I am doing, Chris?” the young Russian
boy asked, still doubled over the toilet, holding his cramping
guts.
       “You keep holding it,” the doctor warned Chris sternly.
       It was another five minutes before Alexei felt like he was
really empty. Blushing and embarrassed he flushed the toilet and
stood up. Everyone in the room could see that his young cock was
swelling up inside its metal cage. The young women all laughed
softly.
       “You must be enjoying yourself,” Anna observed, gently
teasing the humiliated boy.
       Alexei was most definitely not enjoying himself.
       “Anna, don’t be so cruel,” Doctor Trench said. “It is
quite normal for a boy to have an erection during an enema. In
fact I think you’ll find Zero-Seven here is having the same
little problem.”
       It was true. Chris could feel his dick trying to get hard.
It was straining against the bars of the chastity cage. He’d been
so distracted by all the liquid sloshing around inside him that
he only began to notice it when the spikes started digging in to
his dick.
       ‘Why the hell does it keep doing that?’ Chris thought to
himself before the latest cramp caused him to groan out loud. 
“Please, ma’am,” he pleaded again, “I need to go so bad . . . “
	They made Chris wait a few more minutes before they unbuckled
the straps. The boy scurried over to the toilet as fast as his
swollen cramping guts would allow. Terri was there waiting for
him. He got down on his hands and knees tried to keep still while
she pulled out the nozzle. He scrambled to the toilet the second
it was removed.
	“Aaaahh, shit!” Chris shouted as he lost control of his bowels.

	“That’s the idea, boy,” the doctor laughed. “Just sit there for
a while. Rub your tummy. That’ll help you get everything out.”
	“Yes, ma’am.”
	“Anna, Terri, go ahead and get Zero-Four on the examination
table. Take his temperature and his pulse, and draw a blood
sample. Remove his chastity device, but don’t let him play with
himself. And don’t you play with him either. I don’t want him
having an orgasm.”
	Anna and Terri escorted the naked four-foot-nine-inch tall
twelve-year-old to one of the exam tables and had him sit on the
edge. It was Anna who opened the padlock and freed the boy’s
penis from its tight constricting cage. The metal ring remained
snuggly in place around the base of his hairless genitals. Alexei
sighed with relief once the cage was gone, and of course he got
hard almost immediately, much to his extreme embarrassment. His
five-inch erection was pointing up toward his navel.
	“None of that, Zero-Four,” Anna scolded him gently. “We need to
take your ring off too. Get it soft.”
	“Yes, miss,” Alexei said, willing his cock to deflate and behave
itself. It was embarrassing enough being naked in front of all
these women, but having an erection in front of them was just
terrible. While the boy was still half-hard, Anna removed the
cock-and-ball ring. The twelve-year-old’s penis softened quickly
once the ring was gone, returning to its modest three and ½
inches. Alexei swung his legs back and forth nervously while the
two young nurses proceeded to record his vital signs and jabbed a
needle into his right arm.
	While Alexei was having his blood drawn, Chris was finishing on
the toilet. Never in his life had the thirteen-year-old taken
such an extraordinary dump. He just sat there bewildered and
doubled over. He felt weak when he finally stood up. His legs had
gone all rubbery.
	“I’m . . . I’m done, ma’am,” Chris announced softly, still
rubbing his stomach with his left hand. His insides felt strange.
Not bad, just strange, strange and empty.
	“Well wipe yourself. For heaven’s sake, Zero-Seven,” Doctor
Trench said, shaking her head. “We’re not your nursemaids. You
clean your own little butt.”
	“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am,” the boy answered, quickly sitting
back down. ‘How could I forget to wipe?’ he thought to himself.
‘Am I like three or something?’
       When Chris was done, the doctor made him bend over and
spread his legs wide apart while she inspected him for
cleanliness.
       “Good,” she said, satisfied with the young teen’s efforts.
“Clean boys are healthy boys.” She swatted him hard on the
behind. “Now get over to the exam table and hop up. We’ve got to
take your vitals and get some blood out of your arm. You’re not
squeamish, are you?”
       “No, ma’am.”
       Chris certainly didn’t like them, but it was the younger
Andrews brother who was terrified of needles. He shuffled over to
the second metal table and climbed up and swung his legs over the
edge. Next to him, Alexei was anxiously waiting and wondering
what was going to happen next. Every time the boy’s dick started
to show even the slightest signs of an erection, Anna or Terri
would roughly skin his foreskin back and flick the moist pink
head with their fingers. It stung and made him shout in protest,
but it did keep his twelve-year-old dick nice and soft.
       “You keep yours down, Zero-Seven, or you’ll get the same
treatment,” the doctor ordered as she unlocked the
thirteen-year-old’s chastity device.
       Of course it was impossible for the teenaged boy not to
get hard once his dick was freed. Chris turned red as his young
cock sprang to its full hard six-inches.
       “I warned you. Karin, give him a lesson, please.”
       Karin forced his foreskin back and flicked the end of his
dick with her index finger.
       “Ouch!”
       “I have to keep doing this until you get it soft, boy,”
she told him. There really wasn’t much sympathy in her voice. Her
eyes danced playfully as she flicked his dick again.
       Chris ended up so busy trying to keep his dick soft that
he didn’t even notice when the needle entered his arm to take his
blood.
       “Alright, both of you up on the tables. On your hands and
knees.”
       Still feeling light-headed, Chris and Alexei pulled their
legs up onto the examination tables and got into position.
       “Spread your legs wider,” Doctor Trench ordered.
       The boys obeyed, both very much aware that their rear-ends
were now totally exposed. Their balls were also on display,
dangling low in their hairless sacks, Christopher’s noticeably
larger than Alexei’s. The tip of the older boy’s cock was just
visible hanging below his scrotum.
       “Alright,” Doctor Trench said to her assistants. “Let’s
hook these boys up to the milking machine. We’ve got eight more
of them after we’ve milked these two.”
       Chris and Alexei looked at each other in confusion.
Neither of them knew what a milking machine was, or exactly how
it would be used on them.
       “Now you boys keep still,” the doctor told them. “You’ll
probably find this very pleasant . . . at first.”
       The machine in question was rolled on a cart and set
between the two exam tables. Chris craned his head back and
stared at it. It wasn’t very big. It looked a lot like a vacuum
cleaner to the thirteen-year-old’s innocent eyes. There were two
clear plastic hoses, one attached to each side. Each hose was
connected to a narrow metal tube about six inches long. The ends
of the tubes were open, but the tubes were completely solid, made
of shining stainless steel. Each tube had leather straps hanging
from the end. Chris didn’t have to think very hard to figure out
which part of his body the tube was meant to attach to.
       Connected to the bottom part of the machine there were two
large egg-shaped objects, made of the same shining steel as the
tubes and attached to the machine with thick insulted cords.
	At the front of the machine, Chris could see all sorts of
switches and knobs, and a metal plate with the words ‘Hartford
Pediatrics Model 4870c Sperm Extraction Unit’ in small black
letters. Below this in much larger lettering was the machine’s
more popular name: The Boy Milker 5000.
	Chris decided he did not like the looks of this machine at all.


					End Part 1.
