Dirt

Pleasantly Surprised
Four Short Stories

1. A Mogul of Business & Industry

When a colleague once asked me, later in life, if I believed in a 'here-after,' in whatever form, I remembered answering: "I'm not too sure, but I'm willing to be pleasantly surprised."

That was my attitude for most of my adult life after I had shrugged off the irrationalities of my formal religious upbringing.

Thus, when I finally did die, at the ripe old age of 80 years, those words came back to me with vivid intensity.

***

"I don't understand," I said with some anxiety. "You mean there isn't a heaven?"

Some ethereal being was sort of taking charge of my disposition. I, a mogul of business and industry, (I suppose former mogul) did not exactly relish being in the role of a subordinate. He'd already explained that I had died, though he used strange wording as if it had been merely a type of living reality that had been best suited for me. He explained a good many other things as he lectured – OK, he demanded that I listen to him – with appropriate seriousness. It was also disconcerting as he seemed to subtilty morph as we conversed. He said that he had taken the form of a being I could relate to, and the changes I noted were in my own mind as I kept reassessing our respective roles.

"Not as you seem to have conceived it. Your concept is quite primitive and plebian.

"Well, I never quite believed in a heaven, but I was hoping…" I let it hang. It seemed he could almost read my thoughts anyway.

"There is no heaven, or a hell for that matter, as you seemed to have conceived them. But there is definitely an after-life. And I am happy to inform you that since you have done nothing in your previous life to deliberately bring significant harm to another, you have now quite a latitude in constructing the world in which you will enjoy for your next life-time."

"You mean I have another life after this? And can be anything I want?"

"Yes, to your first question, and as for the second, not exactly. You also were considerably self-centered and sometimes totally oblivious of the needs of others while you pursued wealth and status."

I did have to admit that he was largely correct. I assumed that people were the arbiters of their own futures and one was free to pursue the dream of wealth and power as was their want. I was just better at it than most. And quite unconcerned about the 'average' person. I had believed whole-heartedly in the conservative view that competition rewarded those who deserved it.

"But how about all those charities I gave to?"

"That was much later in your life, and not done so much as to assist others, as to stroke your own image of self-worth." When I went to rebut, he added: "I will admit that in its later stages it was done out of concern. So for that, I will grant you a boon. I will make sure that you will enjoy a goodly portion of your next existence."

He spoke at length about the world as I was want to construct it, and then he finally got to a subject quite important to me. He had spoken about so much that had already greatly embarrassed me so I was emboldened.

"How about my body? And sex? I'd like to be a male again. And I really liked boys even though I never indulged. I was too afraid of actually hurting one."

"Boys? You mean you want a world where a man pleasuring himself with younger males is perfectly acceptable?"

Wow. I hadn't hoped to go that far, but since he was offering.

"Yes. That can happen? I mean where a man having a boy for sex is perfectly permissible?"

"Certainly. And you can devise it under any scenario which would most please you."

I started really liking this guy. Or, even more so, this next life as he was constructing it for me.

I got much bolder. "How about sex slaves? Can, say an individual have a boy as a slave for sex?"

"Definitely. However you want it. Please feel free to describe exactly how you envision this new society. You'll be living in it."

I allowed some of my most enjoyed fantasies gain sway.

"How about a society where it is advanced enough so that these boys, even prepubescent ones, can be used as sex slaves, and can even be made to stay their young age throughout their existence. So that their master can keep a boy slave for his entire life and still enjoy the flower of his youth."

"Of course. It's your idealized world. Anything else?"

"Yes. How about making me a part of this master and slave existence, and make sure I can fully afford my role in it."

"Done."

"And make the slave boy a normal part of society, and the man have total dominion over him."

"Done."

"I just had an idea. How about a society where such boys are a natural part of their society, say biologically, where they are born already suited and destined for their future roles as sex slaves. Maybe even have them quite sexually charged and quite eager for man-boy sex all the time."

"You have quite the imagination. Done."

"And have society expect that such boys be automatically deemed to be made to obey and submit to their owners at all times."

"Yes. And I suppose that you want to participate in this master-slave role?"

"Definitely."

"Please feel free to describe whatever you wish."

"I envision perhaps entire enclaves, dedicated to bringing such boys into existence, to eventually enjoy a lifetime of service and slavery to their new master. Where in well-structured facilities, boys who are destined to become sex slaves, are raised, trained, and 'custom-fitted' to their new owners as they are sought out and purchased about the time they are of the desired age. Where they are somehow made to remain at that age and form, never to change. Always to be owned and enjoyed by their masters."

"You certainly have an inventive imagination. I assure you, however, that that will be exactly the world in which you will enjoy your new life."

We haggled over particulars and other minor things. What I considered minor. I was so focused on my next lifetime of having a boy as my owned property. My own lifetime sex slave. I was literally sexually crazed even without a physical body. I just made sure that I would also live a life of security, comfort, and modern convenience.

I really started enjoying thinking about my new existence.

***

"Come with me," the being commanded, "I will take to you to your new existence. I don't do this for everyone. But for you, I wish to make an exception."

The man hesitated only briefly, but then recognized an order which could not be refused. He thought it exhilarating, as he willed himself to follow. They seemed to quite suddenly go from an area of nothing distinct, to one of bright sunny clarity. They seemed to zoom ethereally over vast vistas of beauty and natural charm, oceans, shore, forest, mountains, and all the beauty that the man had envisioned in his new world, one in which he now eagerly wished to become a new resident, even if he had to start all over. He was confident that he would again climb the ladder of success and accomplishment.

After seemingly flying over several small towns, then a metropolitan area not too dissimilar to what he had been accustomed to, he did hope that this particular people and society would be much more rational in how they conducted themselves, not destroying everything they touched. He specifically had described this world, and one without war and physical strife.

Suddenly he felt himself following the being toward a huge facility, almost like a small town, but strangely laid out more like a huge school campus. He was impressed. It was a beautiful layout. Then he was even more impressed as he came close enough to see actual vehicles and people. Again, quite similar to what he had been accustomed to. He again envisioned himself being born into a person perhaps a bit better looking than he'd been in his old life.

He was going over in his mind a part of their previous conversation.

***

"Sorry sir, for being so, well so particular, but you did say I could describe my new world in detail."

"Certainly. What else do you wish?"

"Well, in my past life I was not very good looking. I have to admit that I considered myself an ugly white man, perhaps one of the things which spurred me on to become accomplished and wealthy. Could I ask to be good looking, and athletically capable?"

"Absolutely. I can assure you that you will be considered one of the better-looking youngsters of your entire cadre."

"Cadre?"

"Oh yes, you wanted a structured society without significant strife. This world in which I will be putting you has organized itself into numerous groups which look after all the children in very large collective efforts. They are raised with the utmost care and receive a good education, well-structured for their future roles in their society."

"What about the rewards for individual effort? I want a world where industry and hard work reap their own rewards."

"Of course. You can be assured of that. Of course, you also wanted a society in which slavery existed. There are also similar collectives dedicated to raising the most obedient and submissive of slaves."

"And I've been thinking. It would really be great if such owners could parade their sex slaves openly in a totally accepting society. Where perhaps, the slave boys can even be kept in a sort of slave livery where all their best assent can be seen in open display." The man smiled in salacious thought. He hastily added: "And even totally naked, if the boy's master so desired."

The man realized that he was getting sort of carried away but while he was at it, he thought he may as well live in a world which had been only before been a subject of his most fervently imagined fantasies.

***

As we got closer to the huge enclave I could see children on some kind of large field playing some sort of team game, and from the laughter and yells, quite enjoying themselves. I was quite elated. My previous childhood had not been so enjoyable. Then they seemed to home in on a large building, he couldn't understand the writing on the building but it seemed to have a sort of air landing site on the roof, and a lot of vehicles in what looked so exactly like a parking lot. He was almost pulled inside and zoomed past several people waiting outside a smaller room, and he was brought into a room where a woman was obviously in labor.

"Here we are. I will be leaving you here. But I wanted to be with you as I showed you at least a peek at this new life you will be entering. This world and this country is exactly as you wished for. Through that window you can see a long line of newborns. You will soon join them."

The man looked and except for the exceptionally long double row of infants, it was quite similar to any maternity ward on his previous home world.

"Wow. I was suddenly wondering. There seems to be quite a few babies out there. They've all been recently born?"

"Yes. As I said, this is a very ordered society. One you described and wished for. They will be the newest group raised to become male sex-slaves. Have a good life."

The man had only seconds to understand the import of what he had just heard as he found himself being drawn into the new life that was about to be born.

***

The being thought to himself: He never did specify who would be the master and who would be the slave.

2. The New Pup

"You do realize Donnie, that if, and I mean if, I get you this, you'll have to take care of it, and clean up after it. Right?"

The boy looked at his Dad with more hope than assurance. "Sure Dad. Anything. Please. I've done all my chores all year and been good and all, I even got mostly A's in school this past year so far."

Donnie had been pleading with his Dad for months about getting him a pup. He was 13 and was trying to prove that he'd be responsible enough. And had kept reassuring his both parents that he'd take really good care of it and all. And train it real good. (Oops, he meant train it really well. Learned that in school this year).

"Dad, I'll take real good care of him. Promise. I'm grown up enough to have a pup. And I've been reading up on how to care and train it. I even got on-line and took a training course myself."

Donnie wanted to impress his Dad. He knew that purebreds were on the expensive side.

"OK, let's go on-line and see what's available. We want to use a reliable breeder. If I'm going to spend good money for this, I may as well spend a bit more and get the best. And you said that you'd taken a course on how to care for and train a pup?"

Donnie was excited now that it really looked like it would happen. "Yeah, Dad. I even passed their three tests with superior ratings. And I already know what kind I want already."

Donnie seemed to know exactly what site he wanted and pulled up their current offerings. He zoomed through the beginning of their on-line photos and stopped at a cute black pup.

"There! That's the one I want. Isn't he cute?"

The boy's Dad smiled and looked at the excitement on his boy's face and his heart melted. He was won over. "OK, you sure now? How about the cute brown one? There. I think he's even cuter."

Donne was adamant. He had looked through several breeders' offerings and as soon as he saw this cute little blackie, he knew that this was the pup he'd have his Dad buy for him. (If he could talk him into it. The pup was quite expensive). And he'd raise and train him. He would show his Dad that he could be responsible and give the new pup the constant care and attention he would need.

"OK boy. I was just testing you. But it seems that you already have your heart set. Now, where will the pup sleep? Have you figured that out yet?" His Dad was just seeing if his son had everything all figured out.

"Daaaad. Of course he'll sleep in my room with me! I even made a cabinet for all his things; it's at shop yet at school but it's just about finished. I just have to put the last coat of varnish on it. Here's a picture."

Donnie pulled out his smart phone and showed his Dad a photo of the cabinet.

"Damn boy. That's really nice. I see you had all his figured out. OK, how about the pup's shots? You thought about that already?"

"Of course Dad. I even have the names of two good vets."

"Two?" The Dad was a bit puzzled.

"Well, I didn't make any appointments yet. Didn't know when I'd be getting him. And just in case one of the vets was booked up too much."

"OK Donnie, I am glad to see your foresight on this. How about we call up this breeder for an appointment to see about the pup you want. And to make sure he still has the one you want."

Donne was already touching his phone. The breeder's number was already on his contact list.

***

Several days later, a very excited and happy boy was trying to hurry up his Dad. His Mom gave him some money to buy a few necessities for the new pup.

"Daaaad! The store opens in 10 minutes." Donnie shouted down the hall before galloping down to the kitchen where he smelled some nice flavors.

Donnie's Dad liked to sleep in on Saturday mornings but his son was too entirely excited to allow it this morning. He could hear the ruckus already in the kitchen. He gave into the inevitable and got himself ready. Is son's excitement was catching. He looked at his comp and checked on the time his boy's new pup would be ready for pick-up.

Downstairs Donnie kept showing his Mom pictures he had downloaded of his new pup. "Here Mom, look at this one. He's standing for the camera even."

His Mom thought the boy's Dad had given in too easily. After all, it was only a few months ago that Donnie had even shown the slightest interest in having a pup of his own anyway. But it was a done deal now. Donnie had gotten to his father when she wasn't around to put the brakes on. They could afford the new pup easily. It wasn't that. It had to do with the boy's aims and life decisions. Something this important should have been given more thought.

But then she looked at his son, a boy growing up entirely too fast, and saw the huge smile on his face. She knew that getting a pup was a common thing for kids her son's age but, well… He had just better care for the thing properly. And train it well. His Dad walked into the kitchen and saw the expression on his wife's face he expected.

"Look, we talked about this enough, honey. I think the boy is ready."

They hugged and kissed. Donnie watched this display and remarked with more than a hint of sarcasm. "Eeeeew. Impressionable boy here."

His Dad turned and gave the boy a fast swat to his butt. The boy was too fast and eluded all but the faintest swipe.

His Mom, now smiling, replied: "Look. You obviously know all about people, sex, and everything else boy. Just because you would rather have a boy to kiss."

Donnie was suddenly embarrassed. He knew his parents had absolutely no problems with his being exclusively boy-boy oriented, but he didn't want to actually talk about it. Even though this determination had been very recent. The boy himself had even a bit of trouble accepting the fact that he would not be getting a girlfriend. He would be 14 in a month and he had been one of the first of all his mates to show pubes. And he suddenly realized that it was not girls who had gotten his blood flowing, it was the boy sitting next to him in his biology class. And the boy sitting in front of him in his Math class. And the boy showering next to him after gym. (You get the picture).

"Dad, when we gonna leave?" The boy was jumping out of the chair at the slightest movement of his Dad.

***

Several hours later, after having bought out the store (according to the father), with the very minimum of necessary accessories for the pup (according to the son), they walked into the breeder's reception area where they met with one of the attendants. Donnie was carrying only a collar and leash. Everything else was out in the van.

"Where's the pup?" Donnie anxiously asked.

"Dr. Mike is bringing him. Now we told you be careful the first few weeks. Pups are very vulnerable, and not just physically. Make sure you are with him for the next couple days so he gets to know you."

Then the double doors opened again and the breeder coaxed the pup before him.

Donnie gasped with delight. The pup was even more adorable in the flesh. "Here boy, I'm your new owner."

The pup looked up at the boy and gamboled over to him, where the boy held onto his new pup carefully, but with every ounce of his passion and desire.

***

It was several weeks later, after Donnie's new pup had acclimated himself to his new home and new owner when Donne decided it was time to show off his new pup. He waked the pup to the door and put on his leash, and paraded him down the walk all the way to the school yard. It was the last day of school for the year and all the rules were relaxed. He walked up to his closest friends with a beaming smile.

Several remarks were made.

His best friend Mark exclaimed: "Wow. You weren't kidding. He really is cute. And black."

Donne addressed his pup: "Say hello to my friends boy."

The pup, several years younger than those gathered, looked at the small group with a little self-consciousness and shyly spoke up: "Hello everyone. Glad to meet you. I feel like I know you all already, my owner has told me so much about you. I'm pleasantly surprised about my new life as Donnie's slave boy. It's even better than I had hoped for."

3. It was a Dark and Stormy Night

"It was a dark and stormy night, and nary a creature was stirring." I put down the story I had just started reading to my son. Little Josh was finally sound asleep. (OK, he was getting bigger. Not quite so little any more, but it was the image I had in my memory). Josh had stayed awake through the entire first story. He'd been a bit frantic earlier with the howling wind and heavy snow-fall, which had totally isolated us in this near deserted resort in the off season. It was indeed a dark and stormy night.

I looked down at the sleeping child, thinking that he was getting to be a rather good-looking boy at just over age 10. He was now quite all-boy, having shed entirely his babyish looks probably a while back. Photos didn't really do him justice. But I really wasn't that close to the boy, either emotionally or by birth. I was, in fact, merely the boy's step-father, having wed his mother about three years before. And for much of those three years he'd been away at his boarding school. And his mother? I'd divested myself of that mistake the previous year. It had been she who had insisted on the boarding school, not wanting to be bothered raising a "smelly boy." (Her words).

And that's exactly where he was when I got a text from him saying (I could read the mournful plea through between the lines) that he wanted to come home for the summer holidays. The text was a rambling hundred words or more. (I'd let his two previous calls go to voice mail). I finally relented and texted him back saying that that I would pick him up from his school myself and take him on vacation with me. It totally dovetailed with my own plans since I had already planned to fly into that same airport used by the affluent members of his exclusive school.

I'd booked a rather posh cabin in the Canadian Rockies, the week before it would have been officially open for the tourist season. It was a cabin in name only, however, having all the modern conveniences and three bedrooms. And sauna. It was late May and unfortunately, we were beset by a late snowstorm just after we arrived. The storm was supposed to be merely heavy rain, and might have been 1000 feet [300 m] lower on the mountain.

After the boy was asleep, I made several calls cancelling my plans for the remainder of the week. It looked like no one was either getting up that mountain, or down it, except perhaps in a half-track or some such thing. Even a snowmobile I suspect would sink into the new couple feet of new powder snow. (Yes, it now measured at the cabin, at least 2 feet [60 cm]).

I was quite upset at having a well-constructed plan for a memorable vacation with a couple other friends, so totally wrecked by a fickle whim of mother nature. I'd picked the location because of its remoteness (and beauty), having paid the resort's owner quite a sum to open this cabin for us a week early.

I had to make a few phone calls. Fortunately, there was cell reception. (Though down to one bar when the snow got heavy).

"Pete," I spoke with a hint of exasperation and a huge dollop of frustration. "No need to fly out tomorrow. Sorry, but we just got hit by a huge snowstorm."

Pete put up quite a battle trying to convince me not to cancel out our well laid plans.

"Look Pete," I finally spoke forcefully. "Unless you can find a vehicle which can traverse that last 3 miles [5 km] of road in 2 to 3 feet [60-100 cm] of powder snow, you'll never make it. Sorry, we'll have to reschedule our get together. I'll still have the boy."

Calls to my other friend Cullum, who was supposed to fly in the next night from quite a distance, went much the same way.

My vehement words seemed to get my son stirring a bit, but he never did wake. For which I was grateful. Now how to entertain a 10-year-old in a snowed-in 'cabin,' until the snow melts?

***

The next day, I was startled into wakefulness by a yelling half naked, 65-pound [30 kg] boy, jumping onto my bed, simply clad in the usual tightie-whities.

"Dad, Dad! Look outside!" He scurried back to the window.

I was quite awake, especially with the brilliant light steaming into the room as that 65-pound [30 kg] monster opened the blackout curtains. I grudgingly arose, (fortunately I had on some boxers) and meandered over to the window. The sun was shining and the outdoors was bright with the sun glistening off the new snow, except where the mostly thawed out lake interrupted with its glistening blue.

"Come-on Dad, we have to go outside. Look at all the snow! It's deeper than me almost."

We did eventually; I could not resist the energy of a 10-year-old boy. Fortunately, my boy had some reasonable boots and I manufactured some gaiters with towels and the ubiquitous duct tape. The damn snow was now nearly 2½ feet [75 cm] deep but fortunately it was so fluffy, you could walk through it. Never saw snow like this in the city.

Josh complained the entire time I that 'wasted' getting ready. I insisted on breakfast, and then looked for suitable clothing. Damn, the thermometer had to be wrong I thought. 20 F [-7°C]. At the end of May!

Josh tired himself out with his exuberant non-stop fury. You'd think he'd never seen snow before. But it definitely was a bit different as he could simply walk through it.

In spite of my attempt to make us weather-proof, or rather snow-proof, Josh came back (I was by this time sitting on the huge deck in a cleared off deck chair) sopping wet from the waist down and now shivering. He screamed as I solved the problem by divesting him entirely of his clothing and tossing the boy into the shower. In spite of his yelling and screaming the entire time, and making a show of covering up his little wiener (shrunk from the cold), I could tell he enjoyed every moment of it. He was starved for attention. (I had barely been a Dad to him, let alone an attentive one).

But I had other plans.

***

Josh had been a bit frustrated when I failed to 'properly' respond to his next morning's wake-up call. I went back to sleep – after a long night of phone calls and rearranging plans – and awoke several hours later. I looked out and saw Josh playing in the melting snow. He'd definitely be wet gain. But the temperature was in the 50s, much more seasonable. I was wondering if the road would soon be drivable. Pete and Cullum had rescheduled and would be here the next day. Both said they would be renting 4-wheel drive vehicles to make sure they got here. The way the snow was fast melting, I had no qualms. We would at least have four days.

But when Josh came in he seemed like a different boy from the day before. He locked the bathroom door for his warm up shower, and barely would talk to me. I was puzzled, almost alarmed. But the plans the three of us had for tomorrow allowed me to concentrate on that.

The next day, with the temperature still in the 50s F [10-15°C], much of the snow had melted. I got two calls. Both Pete and Callum would be there that night. Josh would be quite surprised. He didn't know that each of the guys would be bringing a boy each. Mike, a charming looking 14-year old, was with Callum, while Pete had a boy named Jake, who was just about Josh's age.

***

"You heard right Josh. The three of us are all swapping boys. You're going with Callum. He likes white boys about your age. Mike was getting a bit too old. Pete, who prefers young teens, will take Mike. While I'll be taking Jake. I prefer black boys."

Jake seemed frightened but resigned. He'd been in a boy's home for so long, this had to be at least a bit better. Especially since he thought that the man who wanted him looked relatively young and fit. And he liked the idea of having sex with a white man.

Josh's step-Dad was thinking: "Mike had no allusions. He'd been with Callum for a couple years and the sex had been good. But there was no real relationship; he was kept by Callum for the sex. That Pete fellow was good looking and apparently had merely fostered a boy just to have one he could swap. Maybe the boy could stay with this guy for a good while; maybe even get through high school. It was Josh who had to have been totally blindsided by the fact his own Dad was swapping him to a total stranger for sex. Of course. I was barely more than a stranger."

Josh approached Cullum and stood looking up at his face for a while, quite bold and without the slightest quiver. His step-Dad was purely perplexed at the boy's apparently easy acceptance of the situation. He had mentioned to Callum that he might have to coerce the boy. The man smiled. His teeth showed white against his quite black face. He finally spoke, and what he said surprised his step-Dad. "No one will think it strange you having a white boy living with you mister?"

His Dad, pleasantly surprised, spoke before the man could reply: "Josh, you're not upset? You do know he wants you for sex."

"Daaaaaad. I know all about sex stuff. I was in a boarding school all my life. I was hoping that you would have me, 'til I heard you taking on the phone the other night. Damn, I'd walked around naked a whole lot and you never even tried to touch me. Even that time you threw me into the shower you never did touch my stuff. So I snuck into your computer." Josh then looked over to Callum. "I like the idea of being with a black man."

Cullum smiled, pleasantly surprised about how Josh had taken the news. He answered the boy's original question. "No boy, I'm rich enough that no one will dare say anything."

"Good. But you need to see what you'll be getting." Josh quickly took off his shirt, then pants. He was stark naked and Pete, pleasantly surprised at how everything turned out, snickered at Callum's expression.

4. A Total-use Brothel Boy

The senior med-tech inquired of his subordinate: "This the next one for the Salai Boy Brothel?"

The other med-tech replied: "Yes sir, just got out of surgery three weeks ago and was put in the tank for recovery. All specs nominal."

The tank referred to a totally automatic medical recovery environment. The boy had been placed onto its force-field bed, for long term positioning. Then he was fitted with feeding and evacuation tubes. And another for breathing. Then it was filled with a therapeutic fluid. The entire thing was then sealed. The boy would never awake until he was fully healed from his several surgeries.

The boy now lay on a grav-bed with the usual physical controls.

"Good, awaken the boy, and get him positioned. And make sure he is properly restrained. He's in for quite a few shocks. Have the servo ready with a voluntary-muscle inhibitor and an emotive-dampener. The last boy who had such modifications nearly went into shock upon awakening."

"He's coming around sir."

***

The boy had been brought to the attention of several of the usual slave brokers who dealt in 'recruiting' mostly boys aged 7 through 15, for the high-end boy brothel markets. This particular boy, a resident of one of the group homes which proliferated some of the inner-city's less affluent social meccas, was sold by the resident social worker, a way to supplement what he considered his less than adequate salary. The boy, whom no one would miss, except perhaps his boyfriend, was subsequently shown as having been fostered (in the state's official documentation) to an out of state 'resident.' That 'resident,' then brokered the boy to the Salai Boy Brothel at a tidy profit. Everyone won.

A Mr. Black, the brothel's procurement officer, outbid several other brothels in the province. The boy he thought perfect for the brothel's usual clientele, who were mostly wanting boys at the very cusp of pubescence, yet small enough to easily 'handle.' And, of course, cute as fuck. Their usual clientele was definitely not in the 'be nice to the sex-slave' category.

The sedated boy was immediately transferred by Mr. Black to the Wentworth Body Modification Clinic, for the usual adjustments. They had an excellent reputation for providing the very best in their specialty of boy 'age-stabilization and sex enhancements.' Even if a bit on the expensive side. But quality in the finished product he thought quite worth the extra cost. The boy's quite cute looks, and superb body conformation, attracted Mr. Black's attention immediately when he first saw the broker's 360-holo of the naked youngster.

The attached file had his provenance and particulars. Mihab Acholi, no known living relatives, former resident of the State Home for Indigent Boys, average intelligence, superior athleticism. Racial ethnicity, a total composite of just about everything but largely Arabian Caucasoid, and non-Chinese Oriental. He was a lighter skinned boy with significantly darker erogenous components, and slightly wavy black hair. Quite eye catching. Latest medical certification, health excellent, no illnesses nor abnormalities, last emotive and psychological profile at age 14 shows pronounced same-sex attraction. The holo showed a well-proportioned boy with the start of teen muscle even if quite small for his age.

***

The first thing that the boy thought about when he awoke was wondering what had happened. Then, with the suddenness of an earthquake, memory came back with a reverberating shockwave. He'd been abducted and then drugged. He barely remembered his journey; he'd been only infrequently awake. He remembered darkness, a mild thrumming sound, the slight vibration of something in motion, and the total inability to move any part of himself more than a skoosh in any direction, even his fingers and toes. He had kept moving his tongue; he could do that, but not open his mouth any more than what that feeding device, fully secured in his mouth, allowed. At last it gave him moisture, and he suspected he was being drugged. He had been somnolent most of the time.

He tried to open his eyes now and found something covering them. Quite profoundly. But he could hear. He tried to move, but apparently, he was caught in the same manner of force-field restraint as he had been soon after his abduction. He could not move anything more than a fraction. He gave up the struggle, knowing it was hopeless. He silently cried. He tried to understand what had happened to him. Before he'd been drugged; all he could remember was some big guy asking about some stupid mecho-shop.

Then he turned as he had felt something touch his neck. Then nothing until he awakened on his journey. To where he could not possible guess; he felt it was far, it seemed to take so long.

***

"Good." The senior med-tech replied. "Let's get this inspection done and his controls installed. I want to get out of here early. Been invited to the BantumBuck BlackBoy Brothel. That have the cutest black boys you'd ever seen. All prepubescent. The boys there are all well-trained, and compliant. I want to fuck a chocolate boy this evening."

"I prefer the Orientals boys myself, especially the darker ones."

"Yes, they're some of my favorites too. They have a good selection at the Hu Emporium, but they're a bit pricy over there. And they won't allow anything out of the ordinary."

The tech released the young preteen boy, looking to be at the cusp of puberty, from the grav-bed and allowed the multi-force-field suspension grid to bring him upward and into an upright configuration but with his legs bent and positioned in a half sitting position for easier manipulation and access to his genital and anal region. The boy, immediately upon release from the severe total immobilization of the bed, started struggling to move on his own, and even tried to yell.

The tech patted the new sex-slave on the butt and tried to stop the boy from moving: "Easy there boy; you don't want to strain anything. We'll do all the moving that's necessary. If you don't stop trying to move, I'm afraid that I'll have to use your discipline control."

The new slave was unaware of just what his discipline control was, but would find out quite dramatically when the slave collar about his neck was used for one of its main purposes. Neither was he aware that he was now a slave, nor that the permanently installed collar around his neck, was his slave collar. He only stopped struggling when a moderate pain stabbed through his entire body originating from that very collar. He tried to scream and was now totally frightened when he realized he could no longer make any sound come from his mouth.

"Boy, that collar around your neck is permanent. It's your slave collar. You've been sold and are now a slave. The next jolt you feel boy will be twice as bad and twice as long if you don't completely obey."

The boy stopped struggling, trying not to panic as he continued trying to voice an objection. Did that guy say 'slave'?

The senior med-tech looked at the new slave as he was hoisted about 2 feet [50 cm] from the floor: "Little old for my taste. But that Salai Brothel seems to like very young teens and preteens. What's the file on this one?"

"Let's see. Physiologically, he was a judged to be at 12.9 years. Chronological age, wow, 14.9 years. Must have been a really late bloomer. Guess he'll never completely bloom now. (Snicker) They had us do a complete age and maturation stabilization on him. All aspects, including physical, emotional, and cognitive. Let's see, slave #532."

"Well #532, get used to yourself and how you now look. You've been age stabilized. That means that you'll never change for as long as you live."

The boy was still struggling with trying to speak. He was now nearly petrified with fright. He tried to understand just what that guy said about him, and even more importantly, what had been done to him. As he tried to speak he realized that his entire mouth felt strange. He had no teeth left! What did they do to me? He then got quite frightened. Was I blind also?

The other med-tech spoke to the boy, all the while moving his hand lightly over the boy's shoulders. It was more because he took delight in feeling the young smooth light brown skin than in trying to reassure the boy. The boy would soon learn that there was nothing to be reassured about. Other than that, he would be well taken care of. Such modified brothel boys were an expensive commodity.

"OK kid. If you keep still, we'll uncover your eyes. Needed to keep them covered when they had you in the medical recovery tank. And you may as well give up trying to speak boy. They've taken out your larynx. That's your voice-box. You'll never say another word again."

As if anyone would be interested in what you would ever want to say, the tech thought to himself. You're just an ambulatory sex toy.

The boy could hear everything said and started to cry. He'd been taken from his group home and sold. And they gave him a number. That guy referred to him as a number. He had a name, he…, he almost panicked as he couldn't remember his own name, and realized what the man had said. Nor could he speak because they did something else horrible to him. He again started too panic, wondering what else they did and why. Then he felt the inside of his mouth with his tongue.

The servo registered the spike in his emotive index and supplied the necessary drugs to keep the slave under control. The boy reacted well to the drug, and it also helped when he opened his eyes and found he still could see. Blurry at first, but that cleared as he got used to the light. The boy got worried when he could hear the way the men were speaking about his looks. He started flinching at their touch.

"They sure know how to pick the cute ones. This kid's quite a specimen of boy-flesh."

"And that's exactly how the members of the Salai Brothel regard and treat their sex slaves. They maintain them in severe bondage restraint when not in use. After use, they are cleaned by auto-mechanics, and if not registered for use by the next client, their slaves are put into severe bondage, and put on display."

What the boy feared seemed to be confirmed. They would force him to engage in sex with men. He had heard that it can really hurt. He wanted so much to escape but it seemed totally hopeless. But strangely, other than not being able to speak, he felt remarkably well. Though his mouth still felt real funny; his tongue was even longer he realized, and he couldn't feel any teeth.

Why would they have done that? The boy wondered, he suddenly wasn't overly concerned. The drugs had done a swift job.

"Did they do a memory wipe?" the other tech asked.

"Just the usual. His name, and any person's name associated with his previous life. They don't care what else he remembers."

"OK boy, let's get you checked out." The tech picked up a probe and inserted it right into the boy's butt-hole. The new slave could only endure. But was quite startled when he felt an intense sexual arousal. It kept mounting as the probe was gradually pushed about 8 inches [20 cm] into his rectum.

The senior med-tech prepared the new slave's butt plug; it was one the Salai Brothel used and was specifically designed and sized for the boy in front of him. When in operation, it would continuously stimulate the boy rectally. Their idea was to keep all their sex slaves in constant sexual arousal, especially when on display.

"Everything up to spec?"

"Yes, sir." The tech replied, as he watched the slave shudder as the device measured the strengths of the interior and exterior sphincter muscles which had been seriously upgraded to grip with good force any object pushed within. "All 100 to 110 % of expected values."

"Excellent. I'll insert the boy's butt plug with a starting field strength of 10%. That'll make him squirm. Even on display they never usually push it past 50%."

The tech snickered: "That's what you call it, 'squirm'?"

"OK, how about 'lash about'?"

The senior med-tech gradually forced the nearly 1¾-inch [4½ cm] diameter plug into the boy's butt. The boy would have screamed only he no longer had a voice. It was deemed of no future use for their new sex-slave. Also, sexual upgrades in the boy's mouth and throat were easier without it.

It took several minutes for the tech to place the plug. In future, the plug would seat itself, having 'learned' its optimal position to stimulate the rectum of this specific boy it was designed for. The boy started squirming as the plug seated itself. His sexual arousal hit a new high.

"Just wait boy. When the stimulators on your three plugs are initiated and maxed to their mid-range, you won't be thinking of much else."

The techs both laughed.

"Let's get the mouth and throat plug ready. Make sure his throat breather is functioning correctly first."

The tech touched a small pad next to the boy's covered throat opening. This had been one of the boy's major surgeries. When the boy's mouth gag was fully seated and its combination throat plug extended, the boy would necessarily need an alternate method of breathing. It would also get him ready for deep throating his clients.

The boy tried to take note of what was being done to him but he barely could think of anything but that plug in his rectum and the feelings flooding his body, radiating out from his groin. He thought his penis was going to split it was so rigidly engorged. Every time he tried to follow what was being done to him, his thoughts were wrenched back to his sex organs and the messages they were sending out. He eventually gave up and just reveled in this feeling. He would be in for a shock in due time. This wasn't even close to the sexual stimulation he would receive when all three of his plugs were not just seated, but their stimulators turned up to their 50% levels. That butt plug was currently on its lowest setting.

***

After his full training, and when in full use, the boy would only know three states of being. When with a client and being used. When on display awaiting his next client to choose him among those currently available. And his rest periods. When a sex hole was not being used by a client, or when his tongue was not being used for what it was now designed for, the hole will be filled with a plug, specifically designed and engineered just for him.

Even eating and cleaning out his rectum would only occur using those same plugs. They were multi-functional. A forced feeding apparatus for his front sex hole, and a forced cleaning apparatus for his rear sex hole would be used. He would be a full-service sex slave.

***

The boy again started to squirm, (all the freedom he was currently allowed) as the relatively large mouth gag as being fitted into the boy's open mouth.

"Wow, is that the new combo model?" the tech asked his superior.

"Yeah, a real mean number. How'd you like having this fill your mouth for the rest of your life? Each is specially designed for the individual. And with the covering muzzle, can be used with several models of our forced feeding nozzles."

"But, how about…"

"I know what you're going to ask. The Salai Brothel want's their slaves to always know that they are owned. And that their boy brothel slaves have only one task. The mouth and butt plugs are not permanent. But the mouth plug only comes out when the boy is using his mouth to pleasure a client. And see this bump here? It can be made to extend a portion of the gag right down the boy's throat. We'll do that as soon as we get this sucker fitted and have it 'learn' the boy's mouth. On automatic, it will fill it entirely."

The boy in question now looked fearfully at the weird bulb shaped thing which was pushed against his thickened lips.

"Open boy. You don't want to find out how bad the discipline mode of that slave collar can get."

The boy shook as he was again reminded that he was now thought of as a slave. And his mouth, they sure messed with it. He couldn't feel any teeth because they were all gone! He opened his mouth. Without the emotive dampeners in his system he would have been either fighting like mad, or crying like mad. Now he merely opened his mouth numbly.

The senior tech seated the gag, and set some controls. This new model would then remember the boy's mouth and the next time it had to be seated, it would need no outside controls. It would automatically seat itself. And when the outer muzzle was placed over the boy's lower face, it would automatically combine with it to form a rigid seal both inside and outside the boy's entire lower face. But then, only if another control was triggered, would the tube extend well down the boy's surgically modified throat. He no longer had a gag reflex. He also would be fed for the remainder of his life by a forced feeding nozzle. And when either that extended tube was forced down the boy's throat, or when the boy accommodated a client's penis on which he could suck indefinitely, that portal, recently surgically implanted, would automatically open.

The boy whimpered as the gag was made to fill his entire mouth, even clamping down on most of his tongue, barely allowing the boy to swallow.

"OK, let's get the readings. What's the monitor show?"

"The gag is performing. It's memory chip seem to be functioning as expected. Made much easier since the boy no longer has any teeth."

The boy could not help but struggle a bit at the forceful invasion. Finally, his entire mouth, forced open but not excessively, was almost entirely filled. The muzzle came next. It was specifically engineered and shaped for this one boy. It contoured around the entirety of his lower face, and adhered tightly, both to the interior gag, and to the boy's own flesh. The boy could feel quite a pressure on his thickened lips.

A strange feeling came over the boy. It sort of felt sexual in nature. Even without the remaining third plug, which would eventually give stimulation to his slim penis, the boy found it impossible to take his conscious thought away from his severely rigid member. It seemed to not only make its presence known without respite, but even rule, as it demanded his attention. Fortunately for the boy, it was with waves of pleasurable surcease. He boy had never before in his short sex-life known such all-encompassing feelings he now felt rooted in his penis. The boy was able to give enough thought to his situation to wonder why that new and strange encasement of his mouth and lower face seemed to contribute to this strong demand made by his penis. Almost as it there were a direct connection between them.

"Sir, I find this fascinating. Even with those devices set on their minimums, the boy's Menchner reading is climbing into the blue zone."

The Menchner scale was a method of measuring a person's libido level. Or put more crudely, how horny he was. The blue level was a layman's term concerning the boy's entry into a level of sexual demand which would keep the boy in a state of conscious awareness of the current sexual demands of his body. Sort of equivalent to a very horny teen who was in the presence of the naked body of his ideal sex partner. The actual reading was 50 on the scale which ran from 0 to 100. Normally, the highest reading one might expect in a 'normal working situation' for the boy would be about 60 through 70. Though such high readings would be considered quite out of the ordinary for even the average horny teen in high sexual heat.

The 50 reading was in fact not that excessive. But for the boy in question, being such a new experience, it had claimed much of the boy's thoughts in spite of being in such a situation. Having been so recently been abducted and forced to understand that he was now a slave. An idea which he was still having difficulty in coming to terms with. Only the extraordinary things which had already been done to him and his small body, had him convinced of its reality.

The senior tech snickered. "Exactly what the Salai brothel wants of its sex slaves. To also be slaves to their own sexual libidos."

He looked at the naked boy currently held nearly immobile, and couldn't resist the temptation to move his hand over the boy's beautiful light brown toned skin, so silky smooth and unblemished. He reveled in the boy's reaction as his hand moved over the boy's only slightly padded ribs, down over the stomach and ending at the boy's treasure, fondling on its way the boy's much darker nibs, and the minor indentation of his belly button. The boy gasped as that wondering and caressing hand lightly touched the entire length of his engorged 4½ inch [11½ cm] dark brown penis and finally moving his small marble sized orbs residing in his barely pendulous scrotum with its crinkled folds of intimate boy sex.

"Sir, the reading just hit 56, but the boy's orgasm climax index is nearly in the red. If you don't want the boy to orgasm, you better stop."

"No hope for it. We need to insert the boy's last plug. No doubt even at minimum, it will send him over the edge. Especially since the orgasm limiter will not yet be on line sending its feedback to the comp in the boy's collar."

The limiter was a feedback mechanism in the boy's penis plug which sent its signal to the computer in the boy's collar. It was able to regulate the boy's ability to actual orgasm. Even with the boy's libido being forced to its greatest extreme, this limiter could keep the boy at the edge of climax without allowing final release. This could cause the boy's libido levels to climb even higher. When the boy's three stimulation plugs were at their usual maximum of 50%, and with the limiter never allowing the boy final sexual release, the Menchner readings could climb into the high 70s, and for some boys, into the low 80s. Levels which would cause the boy's mental and emotional focus to be entirely directed to his penis and other erogenous zones to the exclusion of anything else. The boy would be totally a captive of his unremitting need for sexual climax.

When kept in this state for even merely a short time before being utilized by a customer, the boy would be a fanatical sexual dervish as he was subsequently used by the client. A situation which made the Salai Boy Brothel so popular with its clientele. All their boys were quite enthusiastic in their sexual responses, and assiduously trained to pleasure their clients.

"OK, keep a look at that orgasm monitor. I need to get this boy's last plug installed and calibrated."

"Yes, sir. Glad the boy's been muzzled. This might have gotten loud." He again snickered at what they were doing to the small inexperienced boy slave.

The boy was definitely near orgasmic climax as the senior tech gripped his rigid tube of boy flesh with his one hand and pulled it outward from the boy's groin. Instead of fighting his force-field held bondage, the boy gave himself up to his excessive feelings of pleasure and sexual demand. He felt his genitals send out their waves of pleasure throughout his small body. Never in his life had he felt such strong and all demanding need for sexual release even if he did not have the words to describe his feelings.

The boy was then shocked as he could feel something actually being pushed into his urethra. The boy had been unconscious when that flexible tube had been forced inside him and seated all the way to the boy's bladder in preparation for his prior transport.

The senior tech started pushing a slender hollow tube into the boy's urethra, feeling its movement with the hand-hold of the boy's penis, as he pushed it the full length of the boy's brown tube of intimate boy-flesh and then an additional several inches within, traversing its entire length even that part not extending beyond his body. The tube, much more than merely a hollow piece of slightly flexible invasion, was an engineered plug, both capable of stimulating the entirety of the boy's penis and genitals with its capability of enervating the interior nerves, but also send its telemetry to the boy's collar, which in turn could send back additional information concerning the boy's approaching climax. Its manipulation of the boy's nervous system could prevent any climax from ever happening. Or conversely, keep the boy in continual climax, though this was rarely accomplished due to the danger of severely damaging the boy's cognitive functioning in the future.

The entire aim of the Salai Brothel was to keep their boys in severe sexual heat and need of sexual release while in their display mode, and even at times while their bodies, along with their sex holes, were being used for their only necessary function.

Convulsions of strong sexual climax wracked the boy's body as the instrument was attaching itself, preliminary to its self-calibration.

"Fuck! I was afraid of that. We'll now have to wait until the boy's readings are back to their at-rest mode. May as well enjoy the show though."

The med-techs watched as the boy was nearly out of control as the convulsive tremors and muscular contractions climbed, and then gradually abated. They had been quite strong and drawn out for a boy so sexually immature. Physically his genitals were at the mere cusp of pubescence. But enhancements to his sex organs had increased the sexual response dramatically. It was the deliberate aim of the boy's owners to make him a slave to his own need for sexual release, as well as a slave in actual fact. The boy would soon find himself in a world where sex, and a perpetual awareness of sex, will permeate his entire cognitive and emotive existence.

The Salai wanted the perfect sex slave. And the boy would be trained on all aspects of giving sexual pleasure to their clients and 'encouraged' to obey and totally submit, forever at the mercy of the discipline mode of their slave collars. Several months from now the boy's motivation and indeed, his entire world, would revolve in providing his services as an all-purpose brothel boy.

The boy, having experienced the usual 'crash' after such a monumental orgasmic climax, renewed his limited crying as he realized, at least to some extent, what was being done to him. Not because of the pleasure he had felt, but because of it. He realized that he would not be able to resist wanting that feeling again, and again. And further realized that his capitulation to his enslavement would be thus that much more easily obtained and total.

About 15 minutes later, the one med-tech noted to his supervisor that the last of the three plugs had completed its full physical and neural attachments. This plug, unlike those in the boy's mouth and rectum, was permanent. The boy would never again be able to completely take his cognitive awareness away from his penis and genitals. They would take a permanent place as they ruled the boy's future existence.

"Good, now for its calibration. Make sure the boy's orgasm monitor remains in the blue or green. I need to keep making adjustments to the boy's comp program as the urethral plug adjusts to the boy's neural net. This may take a while. And take the boy off all the servo's medications. The boy needs to be stabilized to his usual emotive response."

Over the next half-hour, the boy struggled as his emotions were no longer dampened by chemical influence. He nearly succumbed to a shuddering despair as he was coming to a more complete emotional response to what had been done to him. He was now a sex slave. And the implications of just what that entailed came gradually crashing through his immaturely experienced mind. He kept thinking about the extent of just how restrictive and totally demanding his new slave existence would be.

"We need to wrap this up and get this boy readied for transport."

The subordinate replied: "I do too. Have something I want to get to. I always wonder about the boys we have coming through here. I wonder what their lives as sex slaves are like."

The senior tech replied. "That Salai Brothel, where this boy's going, is probably one of the most restrictive with its slaves, and demanding of them. Besides being trained in his duties as a sex slave, and his slave collar keeping him in total control, this boy will never have even physical freedom except when ministering to his clients. Just think, never to be allowed to do anything but service and cater to your clients' sexual needs and desires."

That word slave made echoes through the boy's awareness. Its implications were again making themselves known. Those two men kept talking about what would happen to him after delivery to some boy brothel, and about the training he would receive. And even worse, what he would have to do and no longer ever be allowed to do again. And that damn slave collar, able to punish him at the slightest breach of obedience and total submission.

But then his libido was again starting to make demands on his conscious awareness. With all three stimulation devices now in place, even at their minimum levels, the boy was again forced to think about sex, and his boy sex parts. He took some consolation in the fact that this was at east pleasurable. Even if so totally demanding of his conscious awareness. He then had an errant thought. He was now a sex slave. But his thoughts centered around the 'sex' part of that role. His situation could have been so very much worse.

"OK, we're almost done. The penis plug is completely integrated with the boy's neural net and calibrated. This boy will never again be able not to think of his penis. Now we need to raise the levels to the mid-range, where they will be when this boy is in his usual display mode. We need to do a complete bio-mechanical survey of his response levels."

The other tech snickered. "Yeah, we don't want the boy to break."

The senior tech then laughed. "He won't break, but we must make sure that he won't be put into an irrecoverable 'sexual-plead'*.

[* 'sexual-plead' is term they used to describe a person never being able to wrest his thoughts away from the demands of his libido, so to be able to apply his cognitive faculties elsewhere.]

The tech continued his expostulation more to see the reaction of the boy suspended there, than the need to enlighten his subordinate.

"The boy does have his primary duties to perform where his libido levels will usually be kept in the high 50s, and rarely in the very low 60s. At those levels, without the control of his slave collar and his training and conditioning, he'd barely be able to wrest his thoughts, and even his volition, away from his sexual demands and needs, and direct them to where they must be kept, namely, on the needs and desires of his clients. And his training would be greatly hampered if his Menchner levels can't be reverted to the low 50s or so, during that period. Only during that, and his rest periods where he will be forced to sleep, will they be allowed to crash that low."

The other tech laughed and expressed his curiosity. "Wonder just what this boy's dreams will be about. Just think, always to be kept hornier than the average teen in severe sexual arousal."

They gradually allowed the tri-fold stimulation deices to reach their mid-levels, all the while watching the monitors and the boy himself. The boy maxed out at a Menchner reading of 67. Quite high. At that level, even after his training and conditioning, he'd probably have difficulty on concentrating on his needed duties. But that was what the Salai brothel wanted while their sex slaves were on display mode.

The boy's eyes almost rolled back as he could not think of anything but his sexual desires as the Menchner level was seen to reach into the low 60s. As it continued to climb, the boy started to sexually posture, his pelvis automatically making the minimum movement allowed by his restraints. His seemingly impossibly high need for sexual orgasm wracking his inexperienced boy body and captured most of his cognitive awareness. Which his orgasm limiter, now on line, stopped from occurring.

"Wow, I wonder just what that boy is feeling? Look, the Menchner level is at 67!"

"Better be ready to bring the med servos fully on line, we don't want it to reach past the high 60s. Too dangerous."

As part of the testing, as the Menchner readings leveled out at 67, the boy was allowed to climax. The inexperienced boy eventually passed out as the pleasure center of his quite inexperienced brain could take no more. As it was, the boy was in serious sexual convulsions for almost three minutes.

"Damn, I'm envious." The senor tech exclaimed. "Look at the boy's pleasure center readings. Even with my own enhancements, which cost me a fortune, that's higher than any level I've been able to achieve. And look at the time of full climax! This will be one sex crazed boy."

While the boy had been passed out, they released his small naked body from the force-field control and placed him into to a Boy Transportation Cage. By the time he had fully awakened, his body was again totally restrained into its now sitting position with only his head free. The boy realized that his lower face and mouth were now free from its confinement muzzle, and mouth gag and plug.

The boy started whimpering. He was told that he was being shipped to his owners, the Salai Boy Brothel. Shipped! Like cargo. The very idea was disquieting. He again was reminded that he was merely owned property. But the memory of that seemingly mind-blowing orgasm was fully at the forefront of his thoughts. (Along with the background thoughts of his ever-stimulated penis and genitals). He at least had those to look forward to.

But again, thought of his situation, of what was being done to him, and his absolute slavery, intruded.

Thoughts of all that had been done were now cascading through the boy's mind. His awareness of his impending future, though not close to its resounding reality yet, fueled his thoughts. He again struggled to speak, momentarily forgetting just one of the many horrors that had been done to him. He thoughts stuck on one strongly emotional desire: Please, let me go. I don't want to be a slave. The boy despaired as he recognized that except for some breath sounds, he was totally mute. He quaked emotionally as he realized that what he wanted would never again be considered.

The senior tech, just as his assistant was attaching the boy's forced feeding tube, replied: "Just think boy, that was only mid-range stimulation. You better hope that your owners never decide to punish you by putting you for any length of time at its max setting. I heard that some boys never do recover enough to be allowed out of strong restraint. To be forever in total bondage; wow, just the thought!"

As the cage was lifted onto its awaiting transport cradle the tech spoke of the boy's sexual libido levels and his orgasm. With a little envy.

His supervisor replied. "There's a reason that brothel does that to their boys. That boy will become as much a slave to his need for sex as he is in reality, being under the discipline of his slave collar. And think about it. Would you want to be in such sexual heat for the remainder of your life? Never able to even think about much else than sex and pleasuring your clients, except when permitted to rest?"

The other tech merely shuddered as he cleared up the lab and got ready for his own evening. Where he would be using a boy slave for sex. One in which he would be in control.

***

Three weeks later, slave #532, having been fully trained in his duties as a sex slave, and all-purpose brothel boy, had begun to resign himself to the inevitable reality of his existence as a total slave. It took many tears and not a few jolts from his discipline slave collar. He stood in meek surrender as his body was being finally fitted with the first of his slave display harnesses. This one the least restrictive, which wasn't saying much. He'd already been fitted with his mouth gag and rectal plug. Both for the time being at their lowest stimulation settings. His stiff penis ever making its own demands on his thoughts and awareness. Standing naked in front of strangers, with his penis pointing slightly upwards to its usual rigid 4½ inches [11½ cm], was no longer quite the embarrassment that it had been. It had been quite hammered into him during his previous training that his entire body, and especially its boy sex parts, were now totally for the enjoyment of his future clients, and he had absolutely no say in their display and use.

He even started to enjoy, at least at a visceral level, the sexual aspects of being so displayed, and utilized. Frissons of sexual excitement rampaged through his still inexperienced body as he was manipulated into his new harness. The harness made almost no use of force-field restraint. He was told that his physical restrain was to provide his prospective clients with the enjoyment of seeing a boy so maintained in absolute control and open display. The harness into which his body was placed, rather than conceal, brought special attention to his little boy sex parts, while at the same time had numerous points of attachment so that his body was eventually held in total restraint. Even his fingers and toes were allowed almost no movement as those digits were put into their own skeletons of metal and leather. This particular harness allowed his body a small degree of squiggle room as his wrist and ankle cuffs lifted him into a full spread-eagled configuration. It was fortunate that his body had been previously upgraded to withstand such demands as it could be in display up to several hours until a customer would choose him for use.

The boy actually was held in relative comfort as his prospective clients where able to caress his body, and fondle its sex parts. While the client made closer examination, the boy's stimulation plugs were momentarily lowered to their minimum intensity so the boy could react to the client's touch, fondling, and manipulation.

But if not being under immediate perusal, the boy would again be forced into full mid-level stimulation, forcing the boy to have only one main desire. As the boy's prospective clients went through the line seeing the available sex slaves on display and under the excessive demands of his stimulation devices, slave #532 had only one plea circulating through his mind: Please sir, please pick me. Please, use me!

The boy was pleasantly surprised at his own reactions. Maybe this won't be such a bad life after all.

He smiled as he was intimately inspected by a nice-looking man.

The End