Stevens School Runaways - Part 20 – Conclusion (hist, tort,
CBT, psych)
By Platypus (formerly Dark Man) 
plupy@surfbest.net

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

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


Stevens School Runaways - Part 20 – Conclusion
"An Ending of Sorts" 

For weeks after Rich and Tom's opportune rescue, a media
circus ensued. Throughout the United States and Canada,
television and radio stations blared the sensational. While
the Stevens School's true nature (reform school) was a
matter of public record, this simple fact was often
obscured. It was intimated, if not usually said, that
Stevens was an exclusive private school stressing "academics
and discipline" situated in a peaceful, if remote setting.
Several well-known commentators hosting nationally broadcast
programs referred to "Stevens students" as college
preparatory-minded boys from wealthy families attending
voluntarily – not inmates placed by court order in a
sadistic institution. In fact, according to the "official"
version of events, Alfred Cousins had been "employed" by the
school in some menial capacity, maybe janitorial. There was
nary a mention of his former status as a tenured mathematics
instructor. It was "leaked" in somewhat contradictory
fashion, that Cousins, 56, ringleader of an insane satanic
cult specializing in the abuse, torture, and mutilation of
"boys as young as five" – was a serial kidnapper with a
predilection for "violating" boys attending private schools.
Sources were never identified. Within a week of the
"abduction," tens of millions of "enquiring minds" regarded
Cousins as the pariah that he wasn't. Tom's parents believed
these and other gross deceptions, while publicly supporting
the massive and very public effort mounted by an
international coalition to "save" their missing son.

Rich's parents tried keeping the lowest profile possible.
Categorically refusing extensive interviews with tabloid
television shows and maintaining a cautious and even aloof
posture with those insufferable reporters who dared encroach
upon their family's privacy, they kept in discreet contact
with Rich and his guardians hoping to eventually "fetch him
home" when the time was right. Unfortunately, this strategy
had an unintended effect. Like it had with the parents of
Jon Benet Ramsey, the media became more interested in the
Hansens – and began to regard them as accomplices in their
son's abduction. Suspicion cast upon the family – even upon
Rich's slightly elder sister – an accusatory judgment –
became a prevalent mindset – especially when the
irresponsible media began framing lurid stories along these
lines. When Rich's parents did dare to visit their son,
they'd been tailed by law enforcement agents. Soon the boys'
whereabouts – and the whereabouts of everybody with them –
became an open secret. A discreet surveillance commenced.
Eavesdropping devices camouflaged into the natural
surroundings provided visual data and even the minutest
details of conversations between the four principals. The
lost genitalia of both Edgar and Alfred – along with actual
photographs -- became grotesque curiosities – like an old-
fashioned freak show -- and ratings-building topics for mass
consumption TV. Were they "deformities" -- possibly induced
by incestuous breeding – or gruesome self-mutilations? When
Edgar and Alfred began mingling the boys with some other
eunuchs in the area – how many eunuchs were there in those
woods – forty–fifty–sixty? Was this cult-like community
dangerous to young boys? It was quickly assumed so. The
authorities would "pounce" upon the eunuch community and
"recover" the "children" in due course – it was only a
matter of time. American and Canadian plainclothes
operatives began inhabiting the nearby woods in the vicinity
of the lodge – living mostly in makeshift shelters. Despite
this whirlwind of activity that was admittedly foreign to
those wilderness environs, a certain stealth credited to
intense military training methods and inherent to what the
American government was now calling "Operation Canadian
Courage" enabled Edgar, Alfred, Tom, and Rich to remain –
perhaps blissfully – unawares. It might have helped if
there'd been a television set in Edgar's abode.

*

"Operation Canadian Courage" came to its intended and
appropriately sensational climax on the evening of August
28, 2001. Tom and Rich had been introduced to the other
eunuchs about a month before. There'd been an initiation
ritual, the boys had gotten naked for it, but none of the
exercises required sex or pain. "That was so tame," Rich
later said, after he'd been immersed outdoors in a tub
filled with moose urine, and later rinsed off with a dip in
the now lukewarm pond. "I can't wait until they DO me."

Tom was against the impending castration and partial
penectomy of his best friend. "I can't figure out for the
life of me why you would want to let them do that to you,"
Tom said, "I mean, imagine. It's going to hurt like hell and
you won't ever be able to jerk off again, let alone have
kids someday. I think you're crazy!"

"I know," Rich said, almost sadly, "but it just seems right.
I won't ever feel a part of the Lost Brethren unless I do
get it done. I l-love both of them – Alfred and Edgar too –
and I want to live here forever."

"What about your real family? They came all the way up here
to see you. You love them too, don't you? Did you even TELL
them about what's going to happen?"

"I think Dad was afraid to ask. Mom didn't have a clue. I
don't know, maybe I'll change my mind at the last minute,
but I don't think so."

"I still think that you're crazy," Tom repeated.

*

The logistics, from a military operation's standpoint, and
also from a propagandist's perspective, were not black and
white. "If the kid wants to get his cock and balls cut off,
maybe we ought to let it happen," said the President of the
United States to one of his Pentagon aides, "It would
justify to the American public how heinous and evil these
eunuchs are, and then we could massacre the whole idiotic
bunch of them without political fallout. Besides, with
Alfred Cousins dead, he won't be in a position to spill the
beans about the "pain threshold" experiments at that school,
what's its name, Simons?"

"Stevens, sir. It's called the Stevens School."

A woman spoke up. She was with the Justice Department, a
high- level official and political appointee.

She had frizzy hair and very prominent eyebrows. These
latter appendages were furrowed in a fit of worry.

"I think that you have a tough decision to make. Whether the
one is castrated or not, I think both boys need to be
killed. We don't want those child abuse people dogging your
administration to kingdom come. If we bring their bodies
back, it might even play well in the press."

"You can't do that!" the Pentagon aide exclaimed.

"I'm sorry," said the President, "I guess that's why I'm the
President. I'm not afraid to make the tough decisions in the
interests of national security, and frankly, political
expedience. That's my job."

The Pentagon aide was aghast, but powerless to do anything.
He was in the presence of the most powerful man in the
world. "What if the public finds out?" the aide ended up
saying.

The President laughed. It was an evil laugh. "They won't,"
he finally squeaked out between chortles, "They never do."

*

The evening of August 28th was mild and pleasant on Rich's
bare skin. He was staked out in the clearing, amid a grove
of trees, in what must have been an ancient ceremony, and at
least was two centuries old. Tom watched the entire
proceedings. Leather thongs had been attached to all twenty
of his friend's stretched out fingers and toes; his nude
form lay splayed out and spread-eagled on the uncomfortable
ground, a ground strewn deliberately with sharp twigs,
thorny brambles, and stinging nettles by the eunuchs – but
not merely for the purpose of causing pain. "I guess it's
time," Edgar said, grasping the razor-sharp dagger used in a
hundred such rituals over the years.

"I guess I'm ready," Rich said, and what was odd, so weird,
Tom thought, his friend was smiling, although an instant
later, when he saw the big man advancing upon his genitals
with the sharp ceremonial instrument, Rich at least gritted
his teeth. The pain along the entire length of Rich's
backside was actually distracting the boy somewhat from what
was about to happen. Suddenly, a gunshot rang out. The
bullet struck the kneeling Edgar's back just beneath the
seventh vertebrae, making him an instant paraplegic as well
as a eunuch. He toppled over headfirst and landed on Rich's
chest. "Shit!" an unfamiliar voice screamed, "Why'd you do
that? Orders were to let the boy get castrated, and THEN
kill them all!"

Suddenly, another voice was heard. It was that of the hero,
Alfred Cousins. "I took the liberty of notifying the Hansen
boy's folks. So I guess nobody gets killed today – you
bastards!"

"Nobody but you and the other eunuchs," came a retort. More
shots rang out. Soon Tom and the still spread-eagled Rich
were the only ones left alive.

*

But it hadn't worked out in the manner that the American
President had intended. Rich's parents became Tom's legal
guardians, and both boys went to live with the Hansens. It
all seemed like a dream – what had happened to them over the
past year – especially the bad things. Tom and Rich sharing
a room like brothers, they refused to move into separate
rooms – it was Rich's old room at home – very familiar
surroundings to him – but they wouldn't be separated except
in classes at school. As autumn progressed, everything was
different anyway. It was a brave new world – post September
11th – and the only name on everybody's lips was that Arab
arch-villain, Osama bin Laden. The "eunuch-gang" as they
were now occasionally referred to, and even the murdered
Alfred Cousins, were "yesterday's news."

*

One evening in October, Tom and Rich were in their bedroom
engaged in a familiar activity that Rich's sister found
disgusting. She peeked in the open doorway. "Ewwh gross!"
she said.

"I don't know why she says that,' Rich said, "I think that
your toenails are great."

"Just finish up with them," Tom said, holding his left foot
up so that Rich's teeth could gain a better grip. "I just
know I need an extra-thorough massage tonight. Extra
thorough."

*

Later, that night after lights out, Tom started sobbing.
Rich woke up to caress and hug his friend. Sometimes his
family joined in when this happened – Mom and Dad and even
Sis taking their turns comforting one or the other once-
tortured boys who was having a crying jag. They came on
spontaneously, those tearful episodes. Tonight it wouldn't
be necessary to convene a family "hug-in." Rich had matters
well in hand. "Don't worry, you're safe. You're safe!" he
whispered loudly into his best friend's ear.

"No, I'm not," Tom suddenly joked like a bolt that sprang
out of his deep blue eyes, "It's not the Stevens way."

This simple one-liner sent both boys into a fit of
hysterical laughter until Rich saw the photograph of Alfred
Cousins on the bedside table. The photograph had the effect
of quieting both boys like nothing else. "Was Alfred a
hero?" Tom said.

Now it was Rich's turn to cry.

The end


  
SSR20_Stevens_School_Runaways_Part_20