Dirt

Xanadu Pleasure Dome

Part II
Menagerie of Extraordinary Boys
(and A Tale of Two Boys)

A BoyToys, Inc. Universe story

Dumara Province, Bundus III, 797 AF

Prologue

Webster says that a prologue is an introduction to a 'literary' work. So, this must be a literary work. I'm also proud of my impeccable logic.

As per long established law, and greatly supported by public avowal, to help defray the cost of Social Services in almost all Aligned Nations of Bundus III, a certain number of boys in state run facilities and institutions were allowed to be sold as six to twelve year Indentures, so long as emotional and psychological profiles show that the selected boys were amendable to a slave existence, and so long as they remained (essentially) unharmed. Of course, in the minds of most – especially those who make the money decisions – being amendable to a slave existence would necessarily include the use of the boy for man-boy sex.

***

Jax Xavier Hendrex (XXX to a few select friends), an administrator of the Boy Division of the Provincial Social Service Commission of Dumara Province, was quite proud of his record of running his assembly of Boy Homes with close to zero cost to the tax payers of his province. The record over his ten years' chairmanship, overseeing fiscal responsibility, was deemed most exemplary. And he was determined that once again, when the yearly budget vs cost analysis was brought to the board of overseers, that his department again show a totally self-sustaining income. (Including all DHU's* he could safely shift into his own private accounts). This year he had advised the management staffs of the seven boys' homes within his purview, that least fourteen boys – the maximum currently allowed by statute – were to be selected for sale as twelve-year Indentures.
[* DHU = a virtual monitory unit used in electronic transfers among the Aligned Nations of Bundus III]

Jax Hendrix's ability able to defray the cost of running the Boys Division of the State Homes of Dumara*, was facilitated by a more recent 'clarification' of the 'no Indenture shall be harmed or modified clause' in the latest codification of the Indenture, Consensual, and Non-Consensual Slavery Laws of the Aligned Nations of 621 AF of Bundus III. These auctions proved much more remunerative ever since 'no… modification' of the Indentured individual was deemed to mean that no permanent modifications were allowed.
[* The City of Calais is the capital city of the Province of Dumara, and lies on the east coast of the major continent of Bundus III. Though it is the Province of Dumara, the word 'State' and not 'Provincial' is used for all government run institutions]

The selection would be based upon the law that the boy be suitable for Indenture. Hendrix' own standards included a few additional requirements for each of the selected boys so that this upcoming yearly crop of boys would bring in maximum revenue.

Since, by law, no permanent physical, and absolutely no mental or behavioral modifications, were allowed, the selected boys then would be chosen to be available for the other remunerative boy markets, namely upscale and specialty boy brothels, and/or of those qualities, physical properties, and psychological dispositions making them prime stock for the specialty use market where the boys would be used in unique industrial and commercial niches.

After carful perusal of all available boys, the fourteen boys were tentatively selected. Among them, the oldest at 14, was a diminutive boy named Maxim Cutane, and a remarkable and ultra-cute twelve-year-old, named Bantu Kabuda. Interestingly, Maxim was the smaller of the two.

After a very careful restudy of each of the boy's provenance, Hendrix finally found something that brokered a smile. This Bantu boy. Dual citizenship. Apparently, a deceased parent was from the Oligarchy of Quaraque, a non-Aligned Nation and not a signatory to the current Indenture and Slavery Laws. How convenient. A secure com call was made to his brother, a doctor for the State run homes of Dumara and sometimes hired on contract by the State Slave Commission. Hendrix needed information. After being assured that the Bantu boy would be a very sought-after commodity, a perfect candidate for full modification protocols including both physical and brain restructuring, he made another secure com-call to a (bribable) official of the State Slave Court in Calais.

***

DeGode, Inc., a consortium which controlled over 70% of the diamond, sapphire, and emerald markets on Bundus III, operated two very profitable diamond mines in the Abusador Depression of the Teaming Jungle in the equatorial central provinces. Each of these mining operations were located where large volcanic dykes had formed in the throats of long defunct and mostly eroded away volcanos. The special conditions within these dykes at depths, where crystals were formed in areas of great heat and pressure, were perfect for the formation of diamonds. But the working conditions in these jungles, and in the depths of these volcanic cores, were, let's say, far from optimum. In order to lure the necessary recruits, all requiring special training and the ability to operate the new-tech equipment, and who would be willing to work in far less than ideal conditions in remote locations, it was necessary to offer them more than just the usual perks, like special bonuses, good food, and off duty areas containing some of the best electronic and holo-equipment entertainment. There was also a special perk of the not-so-usual.

Also necessary, because of the unique problems of successfully retrieving some of the most valuable of the diamond complexes, DeGode, Inc. was again looking for a couple Class One Slaves – Boy Indentures – to take a very specialized place in assisting their three-man teams in their mining endeavor. (Now possible with the 'corrections' made to the modifications clause in the slavery laws).

They were specifically looking for small young boys who have not yet advanced into pubescence, yet were athletic enough, and cognitively mature enough, to learn and perform a unique and skilled task. Needed were boys who were physically immature enough cognitively, so that they could be 'brain wired' to sonic imagers which can be fitted right into the neural pathways of their vision centers. They must be young enough so that their brains could, with proper training, become adept at 'seeing' with these sonic imagery mechanisms. The boys must also show acceptable psychological and emotional profiles indicative of being able to thrive at their other 'special' roles in addition to not being claustrophobic while working in deep underground diamond mines where they will be put to work seeking out the occasional unusually large sized diamond (and other gem) clusters, in the partially crushed and liquefied mineral mix before being sent to the automatic extractors.

What the company needed were boys capable of making their way through the enormous 'sponge-like' rock and mud filled 'tunnels' at the new extraction sites, and find these unusual deposits before later stages of general extraction would have crushed them – rendering them so much less valuable.

Each of these boys would be added to a three man work team who were running the sophisticated operations – opening up new areas of the mine, and using the front extraction assemblies. These humongous pieces of machinery consisted of a multi-force field crushing device, and a water injector which partly liquefied the underlying mineral base, eventually rendering the stratum of ore into a semi-liquid mulch ready for the final extraction process.

Unfortunately, no robotic mechanism had yet been developed which could precisely locate and more importantly, move through the mud and rock matrix, dig and haul out the exceptionally large diamond-ore matrices, at least in a cost-effective manner. Hence the use of what some time in the past had become known as the 'Mud Boys'. Boys small enough, and athletic enough, to maneuver through the mud and ore matrices, use sonic imagery devices directly wired into their vision apparatus, and be led by computer imagery algorithms as they propelled their small naked bodies through the muck and ooze, and latch onto their nearly priceless clumps of the occasional very large gem deposits.

For the right boy, this job, even as Indentured Slaves, was deemed by them to be one of the premier 'jobs' to which a slave may aspire. And at the end of their twelve-year Indenture, the Freedom Bonus given to such boys, based upon the success of their career, could be quite substantial.

***

This account will specifically follow a portion of the lives of two of these boys, selected as twelve-year Indentures by Jax Hendrix, the administrator of the Boys Division of the State Homes of Dumara. One boy is destined to become one of the celebrated 'Mud Boys' owned by the DeGode Consortium. The other boy will belatedly discovery that chicanery in the world of legal slavery, though a relatively rare occurrence, did happen, if enough money or the right circumstances were involved. He is destined to become a modified boy, and a permanent occupant in the facility housing the famous Menagerie of Extraordinary Boys, a celebrated venue of the Xanadu Pleasure Dome, a long-established resort for those who want the very best in man-boy sex.

Chapter 1
Bantu Kabuda

Bantu's perspective

"OK already," I sort of yelled out to no one in particular. I suppose I was yelling at the gods who were in charge of deciding everyone's fate. Though only fancied phantoms of our youth, I could not stop thinking that some Daemon of the Dark Danebian Domain was following me through my life, bringing disorder and devastation. Nothing in my life was ever right. And now the worst. I couldn't stop leaking tears. And that's another thing that was wrong with me. I hated the fact that I seemed not to have very much control over my emotions. It was so embarrassing, I would at times start crying right there in front of the other boys at the slightest hurt. Many of them already picked on me simply (I guessed) because I was so pick-on-able.

I just couldn't understand just why every time it looked that something good might come my way, or simply when nothing bad had happened for a whole couple of months, then bam! Fate runs right over me with a new catastrophe. Or merely a series of misfortunes. Or whatever. And if you don't think I have at least a cause (if not a right) to be feeling sorry for myself, just look at me. And everything about me. I'm not very good looking, I'm horrible at sports, and I'm in the last 'something-something' – I can't remember the phrase my counsellor used – but it meant that I was the runt of the litter. I was still so skinny, so much a little kid. OK, I admit that there is that one kid even smaller than me and even a year or so older, but you get the picture. And I can't seem to really make any close friends, and oh yes, I'm not a real orphan, just a congeneric one. I don't know exactly what that word means but it's the category I fit in. It's on the heading on one of my files. I saw it on my muti-com. Like I may as well have no parents. Because they haven't been available for forever. I can barely remember them and I have a good memory.

And I'd just been getting used to the idea that I might be a boy-type boy. Just recently I find my eyes (and thoughts) drifting towards all the cute boys here, especially in the group showers. I despair, though, I so can't imagine anyone of them thinking about me like that. And (I barely allow myself to admit it) I even took a second glance at one of the counselors here. And he's old! Maybe even past his 30s. He might even be old enough for his first rejuv! Geesh!

And I'm the only one in my age group who's been here for seven years. I've never found parents. I've been in the Calais State boy's home, Pedoph Campus forever. I never did understand why they called it a campus. It had a school but it was a BOY'S home. I'd been living for the day when I could finish my education and escape into the real world.

But now I just found out that I'm to be sold at the next State Slave Auction. That's the current 'bam' that just smacked me in the karmic tush. OK, so I have to be evaluated by some head doctor to decide my suitability to be a slave, but you can guess how that will turn out. And this time around it's a full twelve-year Indenture. I get to be someone's slave for twelve whole years. That's my whole lifetime! I don't care about the so-called 'freedom bonus' I'm supposed to get when it's all over; my life will be all over. My new owner wouldn't even have to send me to school any more.

***

Just two days later, Bantu Kabuda was led into the house doctor's outer office. He was to undergo a series of diagnostic and evaluative procedures. The small boy, anxious and distraught, couldn't sit still as he looked around the office barely seeing anything as his mind spiraled out of control. Unknown to the boy, he was being closely watched and scrutinized. Doctor Hendrix was already reviewing the boy's records.

Shy, introspective, submissive, of average intelligence, and mostly a loner. And the doctor added in his own mind, quite a cute twelve-year-old. (Though the boy's self-image differed on this judgment). Of course, to the doctor, all boys about his size and physical allure he viewed as cute.

The good doctor looked away from the one-way partition and read from the virtual computer screen:

Name: Bantu Kabuda
Racial ethnicity: Mixed racial characteristics but mostly old earth East-African.

The doctor looked back at the boy who was now quietly crying. His smooth, quite dark brown skin, together with nose and lips reminiscent of another age when there was more ethnic diversity, was admixed with other features perfectly proportioned to entice the doctor to envision having the boy in his own bed. Naked. Gagged and muzzled. Tied down. In a spread-eagled position. On his stomach with his delectable butt in the air.

The doctor had momentarily allowed his own desire for such a boy to take hold until he realized he was starting to become sexually aroused. OK, majorly aroused. He thrust himself back into the task at hand.

Physiological age: 12 years
Actual age: 12 years, 8 months
Height: 4 feet, 7 inches [1.40 m], weight: 78 pounds [35½ kg] (or 345 Newtons – gravity on Bundus III was slightly less than on earth).

The doctor mused: "Perfectly proportioned. Typically slender, his musculature just beginning to develop."

The boy's emotive and psychological profile, including a docile and submissive personality, very adaptable, and notably strictly same-sex oriented, was quite in line with the parameters of what they were seeking in a prospective Indenture.

Six minutes later the boy was ushered into the doctor's inner office.

"OK boy, (his name was deliberately avoided), you will take off all your clothing and sit in that diagnostic chair."

"My clothes?" The boy literally shook.

"Yes. You should be well accustomed to this by now."

The boy slowly shed his clothing except for his remarkably tight boy small-pant. The doctor added with exasperation, mixed with a touch of lust: "All your clothes."

The boy was remarkably dark considering most people on Bundus III were of a quite mixed ethnic pedigree.

The boy held his hands over his (for his age) generous sexual equipment.

The doctor smiled at the amazingly cute slim boy body with its deep dark-chocolate coloration. The deep hue evenly covered everything, except for the even darker boy sex parts. The allure of his pert butt and only partially covered genitals were so enticing.

The doctor imagined sucking on that dark chocolate bar of a boy penis, the circumcised head of which extended beyond the boy's hands, unequal to the task of completely hiding it. The doctor imagined the using his finger to explore the deep dark depths of the boy's back hole of mystery, while sucking that boy tool completely into his mouth. The doctor suddenly aware of his own leaking tool, had to force himself back to the task at hand.

Dr. Sned Hendrix (not so coincidentally the brother of Jax Hendrix) stated quite callously: "Boy, we need to find boys to be sold into slavery as twelve-year Indentures. You are one of the boys being considered."

The boy started crying in earnest.

Chapter 2
The Indenture of Maxime Cutane and Enslavement of Bantu

Maxim Cutane, a boy of an indefinable boyish-charm (though his own self-image did not recognize its extent), cognitive precociousness, and in spite of his situation, of sunny disposition, was quite well liked by both faculty and peer. Most of the administrators of this facility were quite amazed that such a boy had never been adopted or even fostered out during his 3½ year tenure at the Calais State Boys Home of Dumara Province. (The several times he had been assigned to a citizen deemed of sufficient character and means, that worthy citizen had seen fit to pay the tax penalty rather than take the responsibility of raising a young boy).

Maxim, a normally shy and submissive boy, was of sufficient education and cognitive advancement to have acquired the beginnings of his own social mores, so much so that he was starting to distance himself from the 'sheep' of his peer group, only being drawn into those activities which pleased his own almost unique mind set. Thus, Maxim was just starting to be viewed by the 'powers that be' to have become a possible 'problem child'. When the administrator of the facility was told to find at least two boys which could quality for Indenture and sale at the next slave auction, Maxim's name found itself on the primary list of slaveboy prospects sent to the main administrator.

Just two days later, Maxim Cutane was led into the house doctor's outer office to undergo a series of diagnostic and evaluative procedures. The small boy, more curious than distraught, sat quietly in his assigned seat, but looked around the office with avid interest and unusual lack of self-consciousness. Unknown to the boy, he was being closely watched and scrutinized. Doctor Hendrix was already reviewing the boy's record.

Shy, introspective, submissive, (but with a strong sense of self), intelligent, and until recently, a follower. And the doctor added in his own mind, quite a cute 14-year-old. Of course, to the doctor, all boys about his size and physical allure he viewed as cute. The doctor double checked the boy's age since physically he looked more like a boy at least two years younger.

The good doctor looked away from the one-way partition and read from the virtual computer screen:

Name: Maxim Cutane.
Racial ethnicity: Mixed racial characteristics but mostly Western Oriental with admixture of East Indian.

The doctor looked back at the boy who still sat quietly and recognized the dusky smooth skin, the epicanthic folds of the eyes, and other features more like those with a strong Oriental pedigree. The boy's facial features seemed to take the very best of whatever racial DNA made up the boy's genome. The doctor envisioned the naked boy tied to the four corners of his bed, his dusky dimpled derriere dutifully displayed for his master's enjoyment, and impalement. The doctor shook off his lascivious thoughts, rearranged his tumescence, and quickly went back to the task at hand.

Physiological age: 12 years, 2 months
Actual age: 14 years 3 months
Height: 4 feet, 8 inches [1.42 m], weight: 60 pounds [27 kg].

That can't be right, the doctor thought. He sure doesn't look that skinny. Slender, yet his musculature was certainly beginning to develop. But the boy had evidently filed out some since his last physical.

The boy's emotive and psychological profile, including a submissive personality, very adaptable mind-set, and notably same-sex oriented, was quite in line with the parameters of what they were seeking in a prospective Indenture.

Five minutes later the boy was ushered into the doctor's inner office.

"OK boy, (his name was deliberately avoided), you will take off all your clothing and sit in that diagnostic chair."

"Yes doctor. Can I ask what this is all about?"

Though the boy looked to the doctor for a response to his inquiry, he nonetheless started divesting himself of all his clothes. He still obeyed the request without demure, apparently not overly concerned with his naked boy body even though he was at the age where boys suddenly learned modesty.

The doctor smiled at the perky slim boy body with its dusky coloration which accentuated itself in much darker skin at the boy's areolae. The doctor would soon discover that the boy's genitals, taint, and radiating folds of skin surrounding his rear butt hole were of a severely darker coloration, verging on black, contrasting with his dusky coloration. Absolutely inviting his digital insertion, probing for the boy-button, and eliciting a sexual response. Just like… The doctor had to force himself back to the task at hand.

Dr. Sned Hendrix decided to answer with brutal honesty to test the boy's reaction.

"Boy, we need to find boys to be sold into slavery as twelve-year Indentures. You are one of the boys being considered."

Max looked with shock at the doctor's words. But seemed to actually consider the impact of what he had heard several moments before several tears started running down his cheeks. He of course knew, as well as did all the boys, that on occasion a boy or two was sold into slavery to help defray the cost of running the boys' homes. But it always happened to someone else.

"But I don't think I'd make a very good slave, doctor. I mean I'm way too small and can't do anything, really."

The doctor was a bit surprised at the boy's relatively mild reaction.

"But boy, you know that most of the Indentures serve as brothel boys. You are cute and charming, and would appear to be a prize addition to any of the upscale boy brothels."

That Max even understood what the doctor was talking about was just another indication of the broad education available to the boys in the state's care. Though Max had little personal understanding of exactly what sex with a man consisted of, he was well aware that for some reason some men definitely preferred a boy as a sex partner, and had even looked at 360-holo images of such activity, having recently found himself strongly curious about it all. The boy's tears stopped and his penis seemed to 'do its thing', as he thought about the implications.

"But aren't Jamal or even Jimmy so much better looking than me? I'm real small! And so plain looking!"

The doctor had in fact reweighed the boy and discovered that he was barely 66 pounds [30 kg]. What had fooled the doctor at first was that the boy was of uncommonly small build with an almost delicate bone structure. But in aspect, a pulchritudinous 14-year-old. When later examining the boy's genitals, and reviewing the data from the boy's blood chemistry, it was also determined that the boy was about to start his way through puberty.

The doctor decided that a sex maturation inhibitor was in order. His value as an Indenture would decrease a bit if he were allowed to mature any further.

At 14, the boy was a bit late, but well within what was considered normal in his physical development. As the doctor manipulated the boy's dusky brown penis and barely developing testicles which inhabited a small wrinkled sac seemingly attached to the underside of the base of his small penis as an afterthought, the boy squirmed but made no effort to avoid the intimate fondling. Measurements were taken for the record of auction. A mere 2½ inches [6½ cm] soft, and 3½ inches [9 cm] when fully erect. On the small side. (The fully erect condition seemed the boy's usual condition and the doctor had to have the boy inhale an inhibitor to get the other measurement). The doctor noted that although the boy voiced an objection to his being so touched, he made almost no attempt to actually stop the procedure. It was only when the doctor had the boy bent over the table and started to examine the boy's anal orifice and rectum that the boy tried to evade the invading implement.

"No, please stop."

"Look boy, this is required. I even warmed up the speculum."

(The doctor had to describe just what a speculum was and what it is was used for).

"But it feels too… I mean it's just too embarrassing!"

Finally, the boy yielded to the invasion. And the doctor recorded a maximum 1.4-inch [3.6 cm] dilation before undo discomfort. The boy would have used a different phrase than 'undo discomfort', as he had to be restrained during the later stages of the procedure. The doctor ignored the few complaints. It was his duty after all. What the doctor also noted was that the boy responded quite positively to the intimate examination despite his protestations.

***

Several hours later, as Max was back in his dorm room getting dressed for dinner, he started crying all over again as he thought about what had just happened to him and worse, at what could even happen in his immediate future. A couple of his friends, at dinner that very night, were quite surprised to see the red eyes of a boy they usually thought of as 'incurably happy'.

"Hey Max, why the sad face?"

Max usually kept personal thoughts totally to himself, but this time things were too unbearable.

"They want to make me a slave! I don't want to be a slave. It's not fair!"

Though the two friends tried to console their friend, uppermost in their thoughts was relief that it had not been they who had been selected as a possible candidate for this terrible fate.

Another boy, almost as small as Maxim, sat across the refectory, just as disconsolate. He was surprised that another boy was in his situation. But not able to make himself approach anyone, his misery was suffered without solace.

It was only a week later, right in the middle of the bi-weekly math lab, when five adults came into the room and went up to the person in charge. To Max, and to the rest of the students, the presence of four obvious members of the Slave Authority, in their scary brick-red uniforms, along with Ms. Toud, the facility administrator, caused quite a stir. And in Max, pure panic. Even when Ms. Toud called his name, a frozen Max remained rooted to the seat in front of his computer terminal. His two closest friends, who had sunk a bit in their seats, looked at Max with their own kind of fear and some compassion. After all the things they tried to do to convince Max, (and themselves), that Max would be the very last kid chosen, they were stunned by the transpiring events.

Ms. Toud touched a spot on a virtual screen which appeared in front of her and touched a couple of icons. And then the one representing one Maxim Cutane. To the boy in question, a chime seemed to erupt in nefarious design from his wrist com. He first looked at the traitorous device and then upward as he saw two scary Slave Authority officers coming towards him. A fear, stronger than anything before in his experience, washed trough his slim body. Max struggled to stop from wetting himself. He looked about in desperation trying to see an escape he knew was not there. A strong hand took hold of his shoulder. That was the first time he realized that one of the Slave Authority officials was a woman. But there was not the slightest bit of softness in her staid demeanor. As she held his attention, Max never noticed the small hand-held inoculation device until it touched the back of his neck.

The drugs were fast acting. Less than three seconds later Max felt himself actually relax as it seemed all emotion totally evaporated from his mind. But the reality of his situation then took even a tighter hold on his conscious mind as he was now able to view his circumstances in their rational totality. His mind tried to deny this reality but to no avail as the formulized words were spoken to Max's dismay, and to the shock of those kids around him.

"On this day of 32 January, 797 AF, the Slave Court of Dumara Province has decreed that one Maxim Cutane of that same province, citizen # 33454432, be brought immediately to the Slave Authority facility in the City of Calais, for examination at the Authority medical facilities for evaluation. Upon successful determination of said examination, he shall be brought to Slave Court to be declared a Class One Slave Indenture for a period of not less than twelve years. It is so ordered."

As if in a dream state, Max was physically stood, and temporary restraints were attached to his wrist behind his back, and small padded shackles, with about a foot [30 cm] long connecting chain, was attached to his ankles. Max looked at his bound feet in shock and disbelief. Fortunately, his drugged condition allowed him to escape any debilitative emotional distress. But it did not help his conscious awareness as he emitted a moan of cognitive despair. What he had almost determined to be a totally improbable event, did in fact happen. Except for a quite improbable finding of the authority doctors, he was most definitely to become a slave. And to one barely 14 years of age, twelve years seemed to be infinitely long.

With an officer taking hold of each arm, Max was propelled through the aisle between his peers' comp stations and out of the room. He could hear an explosive outbreak of voices, and then sudden quiet, as he left the room (and his previous life) as he was marched down the long corridor to his pending doom.

Another boy, a bit incredulous, sat staring at the spot where the other unfortunate boy left the room, as if his spirit left a hole in space which could not be filled. A brief moment of wonder was allowed to circulate through his thoughts as the very concept of it happening to 'the other boy', and not himself, had only this moment to gain ascendency. Then, as his own wrist com chimed, and two other Slave Authority officials made their way towards him, despair suddenly crashed into his soul with a resounding bam. Unknown to those officials, that inoculation would not have been needed, so numbing was the boy's shock.

He never even heard the words as they were official proclaimed: "On this day of 32 January, 797 AF, the Slave Court of Dumara Province has decreed that one Bantu Kabuda, of that same province, citizen # 36543210, be brought immediately to the Slave Authority facility in the City of Calais, for examination at the Authority medical facilities for evaluation. Upon successful determination of said examination, he shall be brought to Slave Court to be declared a Class One Slave Indenture, for a period of not less than twelve years. It is so ordered."

Pandemonium again reigned, and majority of the remaining boys breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that once again it happened to the other guy.

There was one particular boy who sat thinking about those two boys who had been put into restraints and marched out of the class, with a sigh of 'oh-well'. The thought of being a brothel boy not at all dismaying. In fact,…

***

The State doctors reviewed the boys' files and quickly determined that both boys were acceptable for Indenture.

About a week later, Maxim's formal entry as a twelve-year Indenture in the Calais Slave Court was almost anti-climactic. Maxim was not even allowed to speak. Several attempts had eventuated in having himself gagged and muzzled. He thought it fortunate that the gag was at least not too uncomfortable, and the muzzle itself, with its set of straps which went in an upside-down 'Y' along his nose and over his head, to meet with the other straps around the side of his head, was strangely thrilling. Only much later did the boy understand that the 'thrilling' feeling was in fact a sexual response. He was remanded to the Calais auction facility for immediate sale at the next auction.

Unfortunately for Bantu Kabuda, events were not so simple. He never could understand just what had happened. He had tried to tell them that he never even lived in that Quaraque country since he was a baby, but he was weaponless. How come, all of a sudden, they claimed he did not have a citizen number. Everything had come to a halt while things were done in some secret room where the judge and a few others went. When they came back it was decided that he was to be classified as a Class Three Slave.

As he left the courtroom all he could think about was that he was now, somehow, a forever slave instead of only for twelve years. He couldn't stop crying.

Concurrently, two conspirators, in some secret room off the courthouse, were celebrating their private windfall. A Class Three Slave, especially this one, able to undergo all the most extreme modifications both physical and non-physical, garnered a whole of a lot more than a twelve-year Indenture. And a significant portion of those funds from the slave auction of those fourteen boys, well more than his usual graft, would find its way into private accounts. Hendrix, and his co-conspirator, couldn't stop smiling.

Hendrix started fantasizing about that boy he would soon keep in total bondage, forever. The boy, a never-maturing, prepubescent twelve-year-old. But modified to be forever kept in thrall to his own all-encompassing sexual arousal. Modified to provide its owner the best in man-boy sex. Always in need. Always ready. His small genitals giving on demand their own measure of sex enhancers. His small 4-inch [10 cm] slim brown penis forever stiff and rigid, except when in severe chastity containment, when not in use. When he was placed in storage awaiting his owner's next use of his beautiful dusky dark-brownish Oriental looking body. His body held in strict nearly rigid bondage of varying designs and licentious engendering display. His image on 360-holo demand on his master's com whenever desired. The boy's head cage, tooth-free-mouth plug, and muzzle, and anal plug, only removed when he was in use. The anal exciter-plug. and exciter-bands on his penis, always keeping the boy anxious for his next use. The boy always ready to enthusiastically performing his only perceived function. Hendrix almost could now afford it. Perhaps only two or three more years away.

Though in vastly different circumstances, and frames of mind, both boys knew that they, along with all the other boys presently held in the Calais Slave Holding Facilities, would go on auction in just two weeks.

Chapter 3
Conducting Business (and molesting a boy)

Several days later

Sam DeGode, a first cousin to the nephew of one of the DeGode family members on the DeGode Consortium's board of directors, was on his usual yearly jaunt to the Calais State Slave Auction. The auction was just about a week and a half away. The reason he liked to use that particular Slave Auction in person was its close proximity to the Circe Islands, and the nearby mainland, a bastion of boy lover resorts. In addition, on this specific trip, he was determined to visit the Xanadu Pleasure Dome, notably the world's premier (and most expensive) vacation spot, catering to those who want the very best (and the very unusual) in boys made available to those who delight in the penultimate joy of man-boy sex.

Sam was especially interested in boys who were just at the cusp of sexual maturity, but whose advance through puberty had been permanently stopped while in that very early teen state where the boy is still mostly a small boy yet his genitals held hegemony over him when aroused. (Or so modified to do so).

Sam had also fantasized about having a boy in desperate need for sex 24/7. But until he could justify the exorbitant expense of acquiring one of those boys so modified to remain a boy for the entirety of their life-time, he'd decided to be content with these 'boy-oriented' vacations.

(Note: on Bundus III, there was a 24-hour day, and a 7-day week. However, their hour was slightly longer than an 'earth-hour').

Right at this moment, Sam DeGode, able only to contemplate his upcoming vacation at the Xanadu Pleasure Dome, was growing increasingly weary reading through file after file of boys, spit out by the computer as being possible additions to his company's 'Mud Boys' as they called them, as one boy after another struck him as not quite right. The boy he wanted would be that very special boy, not only capable of being modified, conditioned, and trained as a Mud Boy, but to join in with a cooperative effort in such a unique occupation. Those special boys not only found their lives thrilling and rewarding, but became an unusually joyful addition to the lives of those men who labored in somewhat difficult conditions, at times, miles underground. Sam was looking for that special boy who would not only make an outstanding worker, but enjoy being one of those special boys thriving in their work, and just as importantly, happy in their lives. And happy in the beds of their fellow adult team members.

As Sam DeGode wearily continued working through file after file, his mind started wandering back to his upcoming visit to the Xanadu Pleasure Dome. He had a five-day reservation at the resort's Gentry Mansion. He mused about it, and the nearby Hall of Boys, and the other slaveboy-populated venues, promising unparalleled enjoyment of the very exotic and the very enthusiastic.

Sam was forever thankful that his trust fund allowed him unlimited access to the many venues at this amazing boy resort. His choice of resorts this time precipitated by the urging by an old friend and mentor to look up a certain slave by the name of Abu, a slaveboy who had left his friend an indelible memory.

Sam's gave up his search for the remainder of the day, deciding to visit the slave holding facility at nearby Calais, for one last walk through. He ordered an aircar which took him the several miles to the slave compound, landing on the pad, right in its midst. He looked about, hoping that one of those cells indeed held that one special boy he was looking for.

Several of the boys looked out from their cells, wondering if this were one of those rich people who would be bidding on them. Wondering what fate had decided that they would be someone's slave.

Seeing a few faces peering at him, Sam actually gave voice to his whimsey. "Are you here boy?"

Sam would continue his perusal of those last files on his return. As he took one last look at the ranks of holding cells before him, he was ever grateful that he was privileged to live in a society which could provide such slaveboys for people like himself to enjoy.

***

A couple of days later

Not too far away in distance, but a world away in circumstance, the Buddingo Brothers (Bud and Ted) were discussing the end of the fiscal year numbers with their resort comptroller. That resort being the famous Xanadu Pleasure Dome, a very upscale boy brothel.

After a two-and-a-half-year trial, these numbers were able to more accurately reflect the major change in policy which had been ushered in by Abu, their new Slaveboy Policy and Utilization Administrator. That this new official had actually been a 'boy' himself at this resort for almost 18 years, first in the Gentry Mansion, and then in the Big Boy Complex, allowed him to bring new insight into the procurement and management of all their boy recruits.

It was Bud who stopped fondling the rather unique genital equipment of his current (seeming) seven-year-old slaveboy draped across his lap, and started paying closer attention to the comptroller for the Xanadu resort. It was Ted, though, who asked the obvious question after the comptroller had related to them their profit margin per boy-hour for the past fiscal year.

"I must admit, Crenshaw, that number is a bit surprising. I assume that figure includes those boys who have been put into service since Abu's new policies were put into effect."

These new policies had been largely ushered in through the combined urging of the newest members of their own resort management team, especially with its new lead, Abu (no last name) together with the current head of the boy modification team at BoyToys, Inc., by far the major supplier of their boy-recruits, as opposed to the few adult slaves who also work to make this the premier boy services establishment in the Aligned Nations of Bundus III. They had recommended a somewhat more 'boy-friendly' boy modification and management policy. It was Abu who had voiced their combined opinions quite succinctly: "Master (Abu was still a slave)," he replied forcefully if still with due deference, a habit of his lifetime of slavery, "Happy slaves give more enthusiastic service. Better service, better results. Better results, happier clients. Happier clients, more profits."

Of course, that was not the only policy change pioneered by Abu. Not only will the new boys be so modified with the latest and supremely superior physiological and mental modification techniques to produce boys not only more amendable to their new lives as sex slaves, but more physically able to cope with their sometimes demanding treatment. Even the newer denizens of the Little Boy Prison, and specialized Boy Dungeons could be so modified so that they even enjoyed their situations. Of course, changes in the long-term treatment, even housing arrangements (when possible), for all slaveboys had been changed to accommodate the new policy of allowing liaisons among the boys (again when possible).

The Xanadu Pleasure Dome on Bundus III (not to be confused with the several 'Pleasure Domes' boasted of by the Icarus Ring-world more than 45 light years distant) was much more than just a 'dome'. First of all, it traversed almost 700 square miles [2000 sq km] of some of the most scenic land on the continent, and also provided a specific type of 'pleasure'. The Pleasure Dome on Bundus III, though probably not the most sybaritic of all such resorts dedicated to the sexual enjoyment of its clientele, was nonetheless the one which most succeeded in providing the widest variety and numbers of boys for the specific use and enjoyment by the boy connoisseur. Although available in almost all sizes, along with racial and age variations, the many boys had one very important consideration in common – all were configured in both looks and physical allure to delight even the most jaded boy lover. And the entire range from readily eager to those (apparently) totally forced to perform were there to provide for the client's preference and sexual enjoyment.

As one would wander about the grounds and various buildings given over to the enjoyment of man-boy sex, the genius and imagination of its owners, philanthropist and boy-lover Ben Buddingo and his financial genius brother Ted, boys were available in an almost unlimited display and in almost every imaginable way making full use of the present-day gene-splice and biotics technologies.

Ted Buddingo listened with rapt attention as his comptroller expostulated.

"Those are the overall numbers and as per usual policy, include all expenses related to the boy and boy facilities, along with both the salaried and slave attendants." Crenshaw, the comptroller, looked over at Abu who had also been invited to this meeting since he had been the major leader in both policy change and its facilitator.

"Good job Abu. I was originally opposed. And still a bit surprised. People wanting to enjoy our slaveboys, I'd have thought, would not give much thought to the boy's plight."

Abu opined: "Of course there are those not the slightest bit concerned, and even revel in a boy's discomfiture, but I posit they are in the minority. I can remember when I was pleasuring men in the Gentry Mansion, most often they wanted an enthusiastic boy, not one merely faking it. When plowing the rectums of the boy under them, that wanted the squeals they heard to be from delight, not pain. Well most of them did. And it was much easier for me to feign fear and hurt when I recognized the need."

Ted brought the discussion back to topic. "And with the new policy of allowing the boys actual free time, how is that effecting the slaveboys' productivity?"

Crenshaw smiled, a rare occasion with his normally lugubrious deportment: "Sir, the boy-hours are only down by 0.35 per boy per day, but it's the revenue per boy-hour which is the important number, and, as noted, it is up by 4.9%. I believe that remarkable. And that even includes amelioration of the added expense of the new boy modification regimens."

Ted forged forward: "And the bottom-line number?"

"Also, up 2.8% over the previous year, and projected numbers would indicate even better numbers in the immediate future. Especially since all the new buildings and upgrades, aside for the usual continued refurbishments, are now mostly completed."

"How far completed is the work on the new facility for the Menagerie of Extraordinary Boys*?"
[* Previously their facility was quite small and was called the Palace of Special Boys. But the great influx of additional inhabitants now made available by way of modifications from gene-splice and other major advances in bio-technology, a new building had become necessary. And with new emphasis on a whole slew of new types of inhabitants, there was also a change in name].

"Several of its wings are still under construction but the basic structure is up. Abu is keeping tabs. Some of its new inhabitants are already on site, though a few of the slaveboys are still in storage awaiting final completion of their wing. I have seen the documentation concerning the other needed boys, some have already been purchased and are currently being modified at the BoyToys, Inc. labs. We only have a few additional niches to fill. We have sent out fill-orders to all of our usual procurers. Also, the main auction will be held in Calais, a week from now, and we have our agent attending. The head of procurement has assured me that all necessary recruits will be purchased and out of the modification labs by the time the construction is completed."

"Does that include the special wing along with those boys being raised in that whatever the place is called?" Ted Buddingo persisted.

Crenshaw supplied the name and expanded on the topic. "The Salai* Institute. We are still negotiating for six of their boys. They will be very expensive. I suspect we will not have them out of the modification labs for the grand opening, but probably soon thereafter."
[* Salai was the nick name of the ten-year-old boy taken in by Leonardo da Vinci, and who, neither servant nor apprentice, was nonetheless his constant companion for the next 26 years. Salai means 'Little Devil'.]

Ted opined: "Good. Tell them that our displaying their boy's here will be their best advertisement. They should give them to us for nothing."

"I am sure Mr. Buddingo," Crenshaw replied with impassive countenance. "As I stated, we expect to complete successful negotiation soon."

Bud Buddingo spoke up. "The entire thing I believe to be a huge gamble. But still interesting even if it doesn't pay for itself." Specifically addressing Crenshaw, Bud added: "They offering any younger boys?"

Ted intervened: "It had better pay for itself. How about other projects?"

Crenshaw replied: "The reorganization of all venues is complete. The only buildings still under construction are the new dorms for the boys who work in the Gentry Mansion and the Hall of Boys. Necessitated by the new policy of allowing liaisons among their slaves."

Bud Buddingo added: "The old housing needed to be replaced anyway."

The discussion then proceeded along more mundane lines, allowing Bud to give his current boy more needed attention.

The very young boy had been specifically modified to not only accommodate itself to sometimes vigorous man-boy sex, he was engineered to physically respond positively to his life of sex and boy molestation. The small boy, with his rather tannish Oriental ethnicity, gave a relatively loud moan, as Bud's fingers started their exploration of the boy's (fortunately well modified) anal opening and rectum. Modifications had included self-lubrication and a generous sized boy-gland (with the necessary concomitant brain reformatting) which elicited an extreme degree of sudden sexual pleasure.

The boy's life would forever revolve around this newly acquired desire and demand for sexual gratification. The amplitude of the boy's audible response was of course seriously muted by his boy-gag which comfortably filled his widely extended mouth, and its overlying muzzle, attached not with the usual straps, but by the expedient of eight attachment pins extending from the boy-gag, through a 'ring' of reinforced holes previously placed about quarter inch [6 mm] beyond the boy's upper and lower lips.

Abu looked at the tableau of man molesting boy with a strange mixture of lost jejunity and imposed memory. He noted the boy's small body so encumbered by his slave appurtenances and restraints. Thirty years ago, that boy was him. Of course, without the extreme modifications. And probably without the new modern attachments now available. Apparently, the boy's owner (Abu had difficulty thinking about his owner other than as his master even with their new rapprochement) was in another phase of utilizing extreme body restraints. He fingered his own slave collar, his only slave adornment. And he still rued the fact that sometimes he had to walk about so encumbered with clothing.

The boy before him, now struggling on the wide couch as his boy-body was attacked by Mr. Bud Buddingo, was hampered by his futile attempts to free his leather-mittened hands from their current attachment to his slave collar by two very short leather straps. The boy's demeaner belied his struggles as he seemed to not actually gain the easy escape available to him. Even considering the ankle cuffs and hobble strap. A large ring transfixing the end of the boy's relatively large penile member, with its attached urethral plug, being the only other adornment of his lower body. Abu wondered if the bulbous plug was a necessity or merely for added control. A surprisingly large but otherwise simple butt plug lay on an adjacent table.

Abu had mixed feelings about his own maturation and necessary change in function as he got older. Something that most of the newer recruits would not face. Of course, this complicated his own job. Although some of the regular slaveboys were required to fulfil some of the more minor positions from time to time, such as waiter and servant, and occasionally maître d'hotel, as a normal part of their function as sex-slaves, the lack of maturing boys meant that he now was forced to either purchase additional slaves to attend the necessary functioning of such a large resort or, in rare instances, hire outside labor. One additional source, of course, would be the from the apparently (and surprising) increasing numbers of Class Two (voluntary) Slaves.

Abu looked at an internal com which he could summon at will. The wonders of modern tech. He noted that he'd now barely had enough time to meet with a friend who had recently, (and surprisingly), comed him. That person had shown up the day before and surprisingly mentioned one of the very few clients whom Abu could actually remember by name. Fondly. He had left a com message to meet with him at the Palace of a Boys, soon to be utilized for another purpose, the boys there being moved that very day into the brand-new facility, the newly christened Menagerie of Extraordinary Boys, aforementioned, and now largely completed.

Abu awaited a propitious moment to beg his leave.

Chapter 4
Palace of Special Boys

Sam DeGode's perspective, the previous day

This was my first visit to the Isle of Circe's most famous resort called the Xanadu Pleasure Dome (a reference to a famous poem by Coleridge, and I confess I had to look that up. It was ancient earth history). But by any name, the resort was a boy lover's dream.

I'd heard about the resort many years before but my job, and mostly inertia, had kept me only visiting familiar haunts. It was a friend of mine, an old ephebophile, who told me of the place. He now had his own 15-year-old slaveboy, stabilized at that age and enhanced for man-teen sex at the famous labs of BoyToys, Inc. (Yes, he was that wealthy). But he'd told me of a boy named Abu who had been his favorite at this Xanadu resort a number of years in the past and urged me, if I ever visited there, to look the boy up.

So I finally propelled myself across the continent, convincing myself it was also because of the natural scenery, and the proximity to the slave auction in the city of Calais, and booked five days at that resort on the Isle of Circe. It was certainly a place of seduction.

When I left, I called it the Isle of Neverland, where the boys never grow up. And for me, it was a place of amaranthine allure. (And of one particular Imp).

The second morning there, having booked a suite at the Gentry Mansion, which possibly had one enticing naked boy for every 50 square feet [4½ m²]. I confess that although I had in my bed that first night a cute twelve-year-old of dark Oriental ethnicity, my preferred sex partner, I'd been too tired to do him more than twice.

I awoke that morning when the com system sent a ping. I was pleasantly surprised when I discovered a small 4-inch [10 cm] dusky penis in my mouth. (I must have been sleeping with my mouth open). The boy on top of me giggled, and I took the invitation. I sucked on the turgid morsel, while my hands roamed about and found an inviting small boy-hole on the reverse side. The boy squealed sharply as two of my fingers squiggled their way inside as far as they could reach. He was quite primed and soon shook with heavy spasms. His little boy orgasm was not so little. And after I drank the few drops which came out of his boy-tube I was lost for another few hours. I knew by now that it was a powerful aphrodisiac. (I love these new modified boys).

Then it was my turn. I used the provided boy straps to anchor his arms upward towards the corners of the bed where points of attachments were available. Each pull on the strap connected to his own permanently attached wrist cuffs elicited an additional boy-squawk, an ariose sound to a boy-lover's ears. He pretended to resist the entire operation as I had to keep pulling him up towards the head of the bed using whatever appendage was available, intermixed with swats on his callipygian. A new sound was produced when I used his peter in the ongoing effort. Next, I bent his flexible body nearly in half, anchoring his legs in like manner. I spied my prize, its darkened wrinkled flesh in the boy-crevasse now totally at my mercy. I lathed his rear hole with mouth and tongue while using my hands to molest the reminder of my coveted prize. The boy squealed throughout until I started pushing my own turgid member into his boy-hole. The interior was velvety smooth, tightly contracting, and self-lubricating. (As I said, I love these modified boys). With a deliberately lengthy push and pull, and a gradual increase in tempo, I had a resounding orgasm which seemed to last for a longer than usual. (I found out later that the boy-lube fluids contained a really nice enzyme which helped lengthen one's climax. (As I said, I love these modified boys)!

The boy himself had his own orgasm, as I felt the interior of his boy-rectum have its own pulsing contractions. I released the boy from the straps, but kept him captive. After several additional attacks on the boy's sex holes, with the boy's energetically involvement, the boy the boy eventually conked himself out and I showered as he slept.

I dressed and then swatted the inviting boy-butt. He shrieked. He took only moments to come fully awake and immediately knelt at my feet and quietly asked: "Master, are you pleased with this slave?"

"Very pleased boy."

As he stood I noted his light brown boy tube jutting outward several inches which he was now consciously or unconsciously fingering. I asked him about it.

"Boy, are slaves permitted to touch their own penises?"

"Yes master."

"You allowed to make yourself have an orgasm?"

"Master, you mean a boy-'gasm?"

"Yes boy."

"Master, we can't make selves have 'gasms."

"I've seen you have lots of those boy-'gasms."

The boy now seemed very earnest. "Master, we new type boy. Can't 'gasm by touching our boy-tubes. Only when you suck out boy-juice. I can 'gasm then lots." He laughing lightly. "And can have lots good butt-'gasms too, when man-tube rubs inside."

I was curious. "Boy, you can't make yourself have these butt-'gasms?"

The boy shied away just a bit, and looked just a bit guilty. "No master, tried real hard with butt plugs."

The wonders of boy modifications!

"OK boy, where can we eat at this early hour?"

"Master, the Gentry Mansion now with new one, have places three to dine, and what you say, formal one and other two. But one not opened 'til noon. But very bestest place is the one at the Bottomless Chasm. But need reserve thing."

Sounded interesting. I'd heard that the Bottomless Chasm, was one of the continent's listed '10 Natural Wonders'. I pulled up a description on my com. It indicated that there was a superb view of the Bottomless Chasm (at that point 3,282 feet [1000 m] deep) from that restaurant's upper revolving deck. At this point, the view included the chasm, along with three of its waterfalls in the close distance, one in each fork as the canyon divided, and a tall thin stream falling from one side dropping to barely a mist, 3000 feet [900 m] below! In the opposite direction, easily viewed from this same deck, were the Flaming Cliffs. I was hooked.

I inquired about a reservation. The com quickly replied that two tables were available in 50 minutes, and two more, ten minutes later. (With its location, together with its 5-star rating, I decided not to ask about price). I also asked about the normal travel time. Thirty minutes.

The slaveboy scampered to a nearby, and nearly camouflaged closest, and came back with sandals, a butt plug, and a leash. "Master, if it pleases you, I show to you how to get there."

I took the implicit challenge. "What if I asked the open com to get me an aircar to take me there? Would that work too?"

"No master. You can only allowed to go with ponyboy cart there."

"And if I merely ordered a pony cart, could the driver find the place?"

"Yes master, but he can't talk."

He had me. "Why not boy?"

"He be muted. And with muzzle. All stable boys too like him."

I wondered about his accent and limited language skills. I questioned him and discovered that he had been kidnapped about two years before from a different country and had had very limited skills with what to him was a second language. He used the word kidnap without the slightest emotional twinge. I was intrigued.

The little miscreant was trying to wheedle a visit to a part of the island he rarely got to visit. And he succeeded. (The resort didn't care, they charged by the boy-hour). I told him he had five minutes to shower and two more to clean out his butt.

The boys here were quite adept using their boy butt and rectum cleaning system. One slave called it the dildo washing system. It was an auto device which required them merely to sit on a nozzle above a toilet-like affair. (An attendant and several slaveboys would come after we left and clean up the room. It was considered punishment detail for the slaveboys). But I was glad to see this scamp was a real boy, and not merely programed to have man-boy sex.

I booked a pony cart to meet us at the front entrance. Thankfully a stable was right next door. Ten minutes. We'd be cutting it close.

I'd forgotten all about that earlier ping. I addressed the com: "Inquiry."

"Connected," replied a very life-like voice. Sounded like a boy trying to seduce someone.

"There was a ping several hours go."

"Message from slave Abu to be delivered over com. Message follows:

'I greet the friend of a former client. Abu speaking. The friend you mention is one of the few I can remember, and it is with great sentiment. Say to him that I hope he bought his precious teen boy slave he'd been dreaming about. And say to the teen slave to take diligent care of his master. If you can make the time, perhaps we can meet tomorrow at 10 am at the Palace of Special Boys. And you are invited to help transport them to their new residence if you wish. (I then heard this Abu give a hearty laugh). I really enjoy making a slave out of a guest. Ping me if you will be there.'

Message ends."

I chuckled. And excitedly left a message to be awakened in time the next morning, and arrange transportation.

Just then that miscreant showed up barely dry, with sandals on his feet, and with butt plug and leash in his hand. He knelt and offered them to me.

"Master, if it pleases you master, this slave is ready."

I decided to get a bit of revenge. "Where's the mouth gag and muzzle boy?"

He was only momentary taken aback, but seconds later stood, and raced back to that closet. He returned with a typical gag and muzzle, again kneeling and offering them to me.

"Good boy. Turn and bend."

I inserted the butt pug and touched a trigger. The boy yelped as it expanded and then anchored itself.

"Stand boy and face me."

He quickly complied without the slightest waver and opened his mouth.

"Boy, did I tell you to open your mouth?"

A minor hesitation and he replied simply: "No master. Master, this slave happy accept his punishment."

I realized that he would do exactly that without the slightest qualm. He was a well-trained slaveboy.

I swatted his cute naked rump with my open palm and physically turned him about. "You are a good slave. (The best compliment I could think of). I'll use the muzzle only if you talk too much."

"Yes master. This good slaveboy master. Instructions master?"

"Escort me to the front entrance. A pony cart awaits."

The slaveboy pulled ahead straining against his leash. I followed. The boy who opened the front door was an apparent 14 or 15-year-old, and one of the many sex slaves on offer here, wearing his 'formal' outfit. Special cloth collar and cuffs covering his slave collar and wrist cuffs, and a sort of leather-like covering, skimpy enough to bring attention to, rather than really hide, the youth's medium sized genitals and butt crack as it fluttered open with his movement. Plus sandals. His looks and long flowing black hair reminded me of holos of those quite striking people from old earth labeled Native Americans. A racial type I don't think I'd ever seen before. Too bad he was so old. As he walked ahead of us, I could see a very large metal ring, at least 3 inches [7½ cm] in diameter, dangling from the end of his moderate sized and partly erect penis, and an even larger one from his testicle sac, seemingly piercing the bottom of it laterally. (Wow, I wondered if THAT hurt being put in)? The boy's slender brown skinned naked body, and his sexual allure was captivating.

When I got a look as the carriage, it was what comprised the 'pony locomotion' which took me unawares. The slave had not misspoken. It was indeed, a ponyboy cart. I should not have been surprised. The 'ponies' were two 'matched' boys attached to the carriage forks via 'pony harnesses'. Their arms were folded and strapped behind them in the small of their backs, with their hands imprisoned in mittens. (The mittens, I discovered later, were permanent). Their feet forced them onto their toes and had been permanently fused somehow to small metallic 'pony shoes'. From their butts extended the turned-up ends of large butt plugs with tails flowing behind. Their heads were forced into tightly fitted bridles with mouth bits. A strange silver tracing seemed to be somehow embedded into their outstanding penises and genital sacs. A large ring at the end of the boys' penises had been attached to a strap pulling it straight forward. [For greater detail see: Xanadu Pleasure Dome: Part I, The Stables]

The matched set of ponies seemed quite docile and just stood there passively. The driver who sat on a seat above us was a small naked boy, perhaps six years of age, without a single hair on his body anywhere. And I was surprised to see such a small boy fitted with a muzzle and which so totally covered the lower portion of his face. But most astonishing was the fact that the boy had been totally nullified. Nothing. Perfectly smooth between the legs. And his incongruously large metal ankle and wrist cuffs were attached together with heavy chains. A comparable metal slave collar adorned his neck. Again, I discovered that that muzzle, containing a feeding gag, on the older ones was permanent. But the newer stable boys were able to have it removed, of course to better service the occasional guest who wanted a 'smooth' boy for sex. Amazingly I saw no abrasions or even chaffing. Must be some new tech with the cuffs and collar. They sure looked harsh.

He was one of the stable boys who took care of the ponies – the ponies themselves conditioned and trained to be totally passive – and who occasionally was put into service as a carriage driver and frequently found a bed of one of the guest who liked smooth boys. (I was later relieved to find out that the boy could indeed still experience a rectal orgasm).

On the ride to the restaurant, both ponies started neighing and even whinnying quite loudly. Not in a hundred years could I ever imagine just what it must be like to be used as a 'pony' pulling a carriage, or other such contraption, during the day, and being used as a passive sex toy whenever a passenger or other guest decided to use the one of the 'pony's' two main openings. Well, at least if using the pony's mouth, that bit must be released.

The view from the restaurant was more than I could have imagined. The food was superb, and the slaveboy proved to be an excellent companion. He told his story of an early life of constant abuse and frequent deprivation (my interpretation), and actually being literally thrown away by parents because his 'sex thing couldn't be fixed'. (His words). He'd been barely twelve years of age. Fortunately, he was rescued by an employee of BoyAbductions, Lmt. who kept a check on such cases in the unaligned nation he was from.

He hadn't been sure what his parents meant but I knew that in his former country, they did indeed get rid of children who showed what they termed 'devil possession'. In his case probably his boy-boy orientation. He had been left unconscious in a blacked-out room awaiting immolation, to be sent back to his maker for a do-over. I trembled with barely suppressed ire. And rued the intransigence of religious demagoguery of irrational reconstructions of reality by equally irrational belief systems.

The boy then compelled me to match his own smile: "Like it here much more better. Nice people and lots good sex sex."

The next day, after another night with the imp and 'lots good sex sex', I released the slave with the best evaluation I could give, and had a very quick breakfast in one of the mansion's (less opulent) restaurants. Here I had no qualm in reading the prices. I quickly sent a com message to this guy Abu saying I'd be able to meet him on time. I was quite excited.

I met with a surprise. Abu, still a slave, but much older (his drug regiment to halt maturation and growth finally had not been enough. He was allowed to gain adulthood and was given other work at the resort). His intelligence, drive, and industry, and desire to improve the lot of his fellow slaves, had propelled him into a unique leadership role. He explained it to me as we awaited a transport. A normal aircar, which was to bring the inhabitants of the Palace of Special Boys to their new abode.

After a short introduction and explanation of our situations, Abu, seeming quite buoyant, explained about my long-time friend and mentor, who had been his benefactor, and one of his very first clients.

He finished with: "Mr. DeGode, I owe your friend an unrepayable debt. He helped me when I most needed help. I was a new slave and totally lost, and very angry. I was also a very innocent and naive boy. He'd visited many times over that period and always asked for my services. Among other things, he taught me many things, but the most important, how to make the best of my situation and to actually enjoy its many pluses. I eventually did so. I use that motivation in part to help my fellow slaves."

This was definitely a topic so close to his heart. He continued after I intervened with a few questions.

"Fortunately, this resort has just instituted many – I dare not call them reforms – let's just say ways to improve profits. I've come just now from a meeting in which many of the changes I've managed to institute have been promulgated by the money people. So, I'm inclined to be magnanimous. And even without that debt, I would be inclined to give you a special tour."

I inquired about these ah, profit increasing measures and Abu was quite happy to bend my ear.

"Abu, thank you for being so open. What's happening here?"

"We will be moving all the boys from the Palace of Special Boys today and I will try my best to describe each of the boys and provide you with their provenance where it is known. You will be seeing quite a few very special boys, if I may use that word." He chuckled.

Abu continued: "Many of them have been here for years on naked display, figuratively and literally, for perusal of an eager and lust-driven clientele."

"Abu, I confess, I am one of these lust driven clients."

"Of course, I did not mean that in a pejorative manner. Many of the newer boys you will see have been the recipients of the new gene-splice and behavior modification programs. Much better in fact for the boys in spite of a small segment of the public being outraged at the modification regimens. Most of those same people vote to continue the policy of selling into Indenture boys from their State Run Homes to defray the expense, so their taxes can be lowered."

"Abu, I am one of those people looking to buy one of those Indentures. I will be looking for what we call a 'Mud Boy', as soon as I leave here."

That topic we bandied about and I told him about my indulgence in using those same Indentures frequently bought and used as brothel boys at other resorts both on this island, and elsewhere."

"Mr. DeGode, I have no animus against those who seek fun and sex. It is how they do it. It is far better it take place at this resort where true controls can be put in place to protect, let us say, the resort's investments, than in some squalor of a back room behind the back room, in some disguised brothel. The resorts you mention are above board, abide with all legal restraints, and in their own way, protect those boys."

Soon handlers, slaves in their own right, started bringing out the boys. I was amazed to see the boys' open expressions of delight. Abu told me that many of them had never been away from their domiciles their entire stay here. Some for many years.

"What you are most assuredly aware of is that our societies are now so mixed, after centuries of adulterated genome of original racial stock, extreme racial characteristics on Bundus III are exceedingly rare, and even on old earth, very uncommon. And before the advent of modern modification and gene-splice, these boys you now see were regarded as truly special. Be mindful that these boys are either with drug implants like myself at one time, or the newer ones, modified in the labs of BoyToys, Inc., to insure against maturation or growth."

The first three boys to emerge were quite cute and very ethnic in aspect. One a very blue-eyed blond, the next an exceeding black African, with smoldering eyes, and something I'd never seen except in holo, a mat of kinky tightly curled hair, so fine I just had to touch. The boy didn't seem to mind. The last of the three, a boy of strong Latino features and color, again a boy-type I'd rarely seen, and never had the opportunity to have sex with. But things they all had in common, were a naked body, beautiful or cute boyish visage exuding sex appeal, and a rigid boner (some due to their drug regimen).

My own boner was boning.

"Alluring, aren't they? This first boy Dave, has been here twelve years, and was a twelve-year-old when obtained, of obvious Caucasian heritage, Class Three Slave, abducted from Tringus IV."

"You know all this without a prompt?"

"One of the advantages of being a slave. I was told to learn about the boys here in this resort. I dared not disobey." I was a bit surprised at his sense of irony.

I remember calling several of my bosses 'slave-drivers'. This gives real meaning to the term.

"The black, Tobi, was a four-year-old when obtained and allowed to mature to the amazing twelve-year-old you now see. He is an extremely dark-skinned boy of primarily Sudanese heritage. There is no more record of his provenance, nor does he remember. A quite cheerful boy."

"Finally, Geraldo & Hernando, identical twin 15-year-olds of mostly Latino heritage. Class Three Slaves and maintained in the first blush of pubescence. Obtained from Cathland, a non-Aligned Nation. A lot of our boys are from that forsaken country. Well, there should have been one more."

Abu shouted to one of the boys: "Where's Hernando?"

The one boy came over, knelt, and addressed my guide: "Sir, a last-minute client."

"Very well boy, take up your position."

The boy trotted back.

"Mr. DeGode, there will be four more in this first group, all to be housed in what we are calling the Ethnic Wing. No longer difficult to obtain now that we have gene-splice, but spectacular nonetheless."

The next two boys were Gandy & Amby, twin ten-year-olds of dark Oriental heritage. (This resort seemed to like twins). Stunning. Class Three Slaves, kidnapped a number of years ago from their home on old earth. But close up there was another stunning feature.

I inquired: "Is that real or modified? You said they'd been here 15 years?"

"They have been sent back recently to BoyToys, Inc, only to be stabilized at their current age. Now such boys are not too uncommon even on Bundus III, but note their appendages. They are the real thing."

Those appendages were fully 6 inches [15 cm] long! On ten-year-olds!

"What is the record by the way, anyone know?"

"It's debatable, too much misinformation and how the measurements have been taken, but probably they are near the old record without gene-splice modification."

The final two boys were something again I'd rarely seen outside a holo. But then I remembered that boy this morning.

"Abu, that last boy, I'm sure he was the boy I saw yesterday."

I looked closer. "Abu could you have that boy come over here?

"Certainly." Abu shouted: "Geronimo, come over here!"

The boy trotted over and knelt. He was not naked but had a sort of leather drape as a sort of loin-cloth. I lifted it.

"Yes, that was the boy I'd seen. I couldn't forget that ring through the end of his penis. Geronimo? Really. I thought that was from some old earth legend?"

Abu laughed, explained that they were now allowing some of the boys an occasional change of venue so to speak. He'd been on a two-day loan to the Gentry Mansion. He told the boy to tell about himself.

He stood, bowed, and obeyed: "Master, I do not remember much. I was brought from old earth about 20 years ago. I think I was 10. No one is sure. I'd been in a brothel. And chained to a bed. Someone rescued me and brought me here."

He seemed to be thankful for his 'rescue'. He continued: "I tried to learn about my heritage. The name Geronimo was famous, so I chose it."

"Return boy," Abu directed.

Abu added: "That's about all we know. He started to age in spite of the drug implants. It differs from boy to boy, but eventually, they become ineffective. He was sent to labs at BoyToys, Inc to be stabilized at a physiological age of 15. He is a very rare natural commodity. And extremely popular with our clients. He's probably in someone's bed every night."

I wanted to ask about those rings in his penis and scrotum but I got distracted.

By the next boy too who was very popular. A boy whose ethnicity I'd never even heard of, but I was not a very astute pupil of earth history and geo-ethnicities. He was a stocky, off-colored boy, about 13 years old, and at the cusp of sexual maturity with genitals showing just a wisp of hair.

"From a place on old earth called Tahiti," Abu interjected. "Said to be quite beautiful now that it's been re-vegetated, and cleaned up. Kidnapped by someone unknown and brought here on speculation about ten years ago. The resort snatched him up. I've been lobbying to have him sent back for reformatting. He's never been able to fully accept his situation. He would be better off after a good brain-rewiring."

I commiserated.

I then boarded the aircar which immediately took off for the new facility. All the boys were quite animated and excited. I took the liberty to observe each occupant intimately. They all were quite accommodating and invited my fondling and caress. One boy asked me if I would hold him. It was the Amby, one of the ten-year-old Orientals. And very close to my boy of choice. I could not stop from fondling his amazing 6 inch [15 cm] penis. It was only a little shorter than my own, though much thinner. His small but pendulous scrotum seemed to match. I explored them with one hand needing my other to keep him balanced, as he wiggled and squiggled. I realized that he was trying to get my penis to rub his naked butt. I was not about to disappoint him. Then I grabbed his twin.

Abu snickered: "Comparing them?"

I refused to respond to his snicker. I soon had a naked boy's penis in my mouth. I was no longer sure which one, they were so utterly identical. Each boy contended for my attention. I was happy to oblige each one in turn.

Just before we disembarked, I had to wonder about the Native American. He was gorgeous; there was simply no other adjective to describe him. They had allowed his black hair to reach the small of his back. I made sure to divest him of his loin-cloth which I later was told was more properly called a breechclout. He jumped when I started masturbating him and I quickly engulphed the head of his ringed penis when I saw that he was close to coming. I swallowed every drop. Abu mentioned that as part of his new mods, he was enabled to recharge quickly. Lucky boy.

We ate lunch at another 4-star restaurant in a place called the Hall of Boys. Luscious boys all over the place, many held in strict bondage along its walls in varying positions and degrees of control. Some displayed in pairs, performing sex acts with each other. Imagination wasn't spared as I noted about every bondage mechanisms available, including an Iron Maiden replica, less the lethal tines. Instead there were strategically placed bars which disallowed movement. Also, I am sure a divergence from the historic item, were strategically placed openings, for anyone wanting to fondle certain parts of the occupant.

If the sounds which emanated from the displays were adequate indicators, I suspected that sexual arousal was the preferred condition of the participants.

There was one display which I had to inspect close-up. An older teen, perhaps 15 or 16, with a magnificent teen set of genitals, not over-large but circumcised and perfectly formed, was positioned with legs straight and well spread and arms held strait outward to the side, held in position by a set of thin metal rods affixed to a framework which appeared to outlie his body. What was unusual was that the rods which were affixed to the framework, skewered at intervals, the full length of his extremities. Rods pierced his hands, feet, arms and legs, obviously including the bones. As I approached, I saw a few finger tips twitch, and the head move a fraction, I knew he was aware. His torso was attached by means of severe metal belts at his waist and upper chest.

Additional rods connected to the strange-looking chastity device which kept his penis aiming straight outward, and to a sizeable butt plug.

I could not tell how well he withstood such bondage since his entire head was encased within metal form-fitting totality. As if someone had dipped his head in molten metal several times, and allowed it to harden. No openings; I know he could breathe because his chest was moving in and out, but I would have to ask how it was accomplished. I also suspected a well-expanded mouth-gag by the shape under the mask.

As I approached closer, I could not stop from wanking that rigidly encased penis, and was surprised to see the boy seemingly in serious arousal. I turned to ask Abu about this exhibit.

Abu sighed: "Fortunately one of my wins. There are actually six different boys now who take turns. Each boy can be removed from the display and those rods can now be removed. Three years ago, there were two boys, twins, who had been kept in total and permanent bondage. There were, and still are, devices in both butt plug and genital encasement which keep the boy in constant and excruciating arousal and need. The idea had been to see if a boy could be made to eventually only think about his need for orgasm."

I shuddered, and must confess the display had me in arousal and need for orgasm. Fortunately, I would have that 'problem' solved in bed tonight. I had booked a set of prepubescent twelve-year-old twins, whom the catalogue said had been recently kidnapped from a region on old earth called South Asia Republic, and modified to enhance their sex openings. I stayed hard thinking about them.

As we were ready to leave the main building to enter the restaurant, I could not help noticing seven smallish metal containers, or boxes, perhaps 3 feet [1 m] on a side, on prominent display.

"What are those boxes for?" I asked my guide.

Abu seemed to want to hurry me past. "Something I like not to contemplate. Within those sealed enclosures, are seven boys, permanently held immobile, with neither sight nor hearing."

I was flabbergasted. "Why."

"Purely for entertainment. See that one boy being flogged atop the platform?"

I looked. I was never into either heavy or lengthy bondage, nor inflicting pain. I cringed thinking about a bot being hurt.

"It's a relatively new tech. That is actually a perfect effigy of the boy in that box, and he feels everything the effigy seemingly feels. I have been told that each of the boys had been modified specifically to easily withstand such treatment, and only feel a very small portion of the pain that they seemingly are dealt, though the guests are not informed about that particular detail. Afterwards the boy is forced to have an intense and long-lasting orgasm. If you get closer you can hear the boy's actual voice via a tiny mechanism attached to their throats. They call them boxes of pain and pleasure. You do not want to know what I call them. But there is nothing I can do. [See: The Boxing of a Boy (and Three Other Slave-Boy Chronicles)]

I allowed myself to be led past, wondering what it must be like, permanently encased within a small confining metal cube.

After an excellent repast, which Abu said he'd rarely be allowed to partake being a slave, even if a well advanced one on the hierarchy of the resort, we returned on another transport which would in turn be picking up another load of slaveboys, these of a more spectacular spectacle.

On the way back, I presumed to ask an obvious question: "Abu. I was a bit surprised when you mentioned your rarely being allowed to eat at that place. Don't you resent it?"

Abu laughed uproariously. "Sorry, but you are so naïve, I'm afraid. I am a slave."

He enunciated each of the last four words.

"I cannot allow myself to resent anything. Another thing that friend of yours taught me. A matter of emotional survival. And truth be told, no, I no longer have even a vestige of resentment. I am exactly what I am, and learned contentment and even have frequent moments of happiness. How many people, if they were truthful, can say the same?"

I was not sure. I started evaluating my own life.

"When we are finished for the day I will show you someone whom I suspect will surprise you. And please do not try to obtain a clue."

As we again waited for the attendants bringing out the next batch of slaveboys, Abu asked me a question: "Have you seen any boy who greatly excites you?"

"Abu, my tastes are relatively mundane. But those twins if just a bit older, and that Native American, if a few years younger, yes, quite tempted."

"Well, perhaps something you will see now will create an even greater provocation. We are, after all, in the lust business."

I was again aware of Abu's absolute lack of pretention. I chuckled. Abu was absolutely correct.

"Abu, did it ever bother you that you were once one of these boys?" Abu offered: "Some people can only wish to be such an object of lust as is just about every one of our boys. And frankly, I sometimes miss it. I remained a young teen for years, and some days I did not want to be over. There was the occasional molester who was an expert at making a boy never want to leave his embrace."

As we waited, Abu started to explain what had been the conditions in the Palace of Special Boys: "These boys have been on nearly constant display, some in actual cages. Frequently, for punishment, they had been kept in chastity for extended periods. For reward, the opposite – a boy may be allowed multiple orgasms. But note that sex, and sexual use of their bodies, is their world."

"Like the boy I had most of yesterday."

"No, my friend. That boy occupies a vastly different world. His interaction with you included much more than sex, even if some of it may have been sex related. Think for a moment how you interacted with that boy and he with you. Did he ever smile about something not sex related? Did he do or say something not sex related?"

"On the other hand, these boy's here, their entire world has been almost exclusively that of sex. They were on display either masturbating, or at the least exhibiting their genitals. When rented, it was only for the sex act. My friend, for most of these boys, that is changing as we speak!"

I thought about what he'd just said and my respect for him went up a notch. I suspect he was a better man than I.

"Before, when one of these slaves were rented, a bed was provided, usually not private. It was frequently broadcast over a network within the entire resort available to all, for a fee of course. The newer boys, the modified ones, when a guest would use the boy's holes for their main purpose, anal juices, and saliva will produce an aphrodisiac to which the boy himself has become addicted. Think about that. Always in need of sex, continuously. I have put an end to that. Every one of those boys has since been provided with an antidote that they are free to take before sex. Of course, there are always a few… well, a least they now have a choice."

Abu paused a second and announced: "I'm told they are ready. The first boys are those who are to be placed into the Penis Wing for obvious reasons. Many are genuine natural boys, impossible as it may seem. Our nets had been cast far and wide. Now most of what you see can be reproduced in the gene-splice labs."

The first several boys to walk out of the building were relatively normal looking, ranging in age, according to Abu, 6 to 17 years of age. The first time I'd seen this range of ages. They were also of many different ethnicities, though mostly of the usual dusky to light brown of today's usual mixed genome.

The oldest boy had an enormous penis and scrotum.

I had to ask: "Natural?"

"Yes, from old earth East Africa. The penis, measured from pubis to tip, 13.8 inches [35 cm] when erect. Believe it or not, not quite a world record."

On the boy, who couldn't have been over 5½ feet [1.70 cm] tall himself, it looked enormous. But what could he really have done with it? I doubt it would have fit into many sex holes.

I chortled: "Does the boy pass out from lack of blood, every time he erects?"

It was the 6-year-old who I had to see close up. Abu called him over. "Please stand and relax. This is Mr. DeGode. Say hello."

I couldn't stop staring at a penis that jutted out a full 4 to 5 inches [10-12½ cm], on a six-year-old!

"Master, hello. This slave, well… I don't know now. What should I say Sir Abu?"

"This boy is quite cute and I have been allowed to assist in his getting used to his new slave protocols. Very young and on anti-maturation drugs for twelve years now. As soon as we can, I hope to allow him to mature a bit. As you might have guessed, thankfully not used for penetrative sex. Mainly fondling, molesting, and oral if the person is reasonably endowed. He likes sex a lot, don't you, you little rascal?"

A not-so-timid laugh: "Yes sir Abu. I like it a whole lot!"

Of the boys who paraded past, one thing was quite evident, each and every one had remarkably long penises, and/or large genitals. One boy of 15, I was told by Abu, had an only partially erect penis which reached nearly to his knees, and a scrotum which reached even further.

"Who is that boy?"

"Mike, attend."

The boy swiftly approached and knelt. "This slave obeys sir."

I watched as the boy was told to stand. A very cute off-white Caucasian, sort of generic with no specific obvious ethnicity. He seemed very serious and shy. I couldn't resist. I started masturbating the boy to see how long the penis would extend. It only grew another inch [2½ cm] or so but became quite rigid. The boy squirmed a bit, but otherwise allowed my ministrations without objection.

"How long Abu?"

"A natural 14 inches [35 cm]. Again, very close to, but not quite a world record, though for years he was touted as such."

The boy seemed embarrassed.

"Are they all circumcised?"

"Mostly. Was the trend for quite a while."

I masturbated the boy to climax. He was trying to be quiet but failed. A fountain of cum erupted from his penis and shot 12 or 13 times. I was envious.

Two of the boys were in full chastity tubes. Abu told me for touching themselves without permission. I noted that the tubes were quite long. I turned to Abu who seemed to know my question before I asked.

"The tubes do not restrict engorgement. But do not allow either the boy to touch his own penis, nor to orgasm. Except by rectal stimulation which they are also denied except when with a guest. Which they fervently look forward to. It is more a practical measure rather than a punishment. Those two boys have tried but could not control themselves."

We soon had all the 'naturals' pass by until I noticed a stunning Oriental sort of dancing across towards the aircar. I looked more intently. About twelve years old and absolutely the image of my 'perfect' boy. A dark, dusky hued Oriental, slim but with just a touch of good muscle. Quite dark for a full Oriental. One would call the boy lithe. His boy parts, from what I could see from distance, were even much darker than the rest of his perfectly smooth and toned skin. I wanted to see more!

"Abu, that last boy. I'm more than merely tempted. I am all the way to besotted."

"Bing, stop." Abu yelled. "Come here."

The boy turned and I was now more than besotted. What I saw was simply not possible! The boy seemed to play to his audience and sort of cavorted.

"From old earth, a country called Thailand. They grow wonderful boys there. Kidnapped from old earth ten years ago. Only recently returned from the BoyToys labs for stabilization at twelve years of age."

"Mr. DeGode, be careful with this one. He's been here ten years and knows he's irresistible. A veritable vamp! Very manipulative. He will charm the balls right out of your scrotum. Figuratively of course."

Vamp away boy, I was already trapped. The closer he got, the more I was incredulous.

"Abu, are they really natural?"

"Yes, quite rare especially since they are totally functional."

The boy sort of floated across the ground and spoke in a husky voice: "Sir, this slave obeys."

His voice seemed a bit of an act, but his words sounded respectful and earnest.

"Is this boy for real?"

"Every particle of him. Not a guile bone in his body in truth. And he likes sex. He will not lie or even prevaricate. What you see is all of him."

"He's sex on two legs. He exudes sex." I was nearly panting.

"If you ever have him for any length of time you will discover he is much more. Quite a boy and fun to be with. As enthusiastic he is for sex, he's just as enthusiastic about everything else."

Unfortunately, the boy was soon out of sight and on the transport.

***

I was fortunate to have that double-dicked wonder just two days later, my last full day at the resort. Abu was totally correct. The boy was one of a kind. I so wanted to take him home. What I did do, aside from enjoying many hours of fantastic sex, was to have him join me in a half-day idyll through the resort just enjoying the spectacular grounds and sights. Aside from the place being a boy resort, it was truly a paradisiacal nature preserve with spectacular vistas of canyons, crashing shore-line, ocean, and woodlands, including a small sequoia forest, grown from seedlings imported from earth hundreds of years ago.

***

Toward that day's end, however, Abu obtained for me a pass to enter an employee area usually out of bounds for guests. He said that he wanted me to meet one of the computer techs, a non-slave employed by the resort. He wouldn't say why and I didn't cheat by asking him.

The employee housing area was beautifully laid out atop a jagged segmented cliff giving a breath-taking vista of a wild crashing ocean a hundred feet [30 m] below. The small house we entered, was placed in an area of simple forest growth.

We entered and Abu called out: "Bran, the person I comed about is here."

A moment later a rather plain individual, more reminiscent of a college prof than anyone connected with a boy brothel, entered the room, announcing, unnecessarily if the amazing aroma was an indication, "Dinner's ready Abu."

The 40ish individual was introduced. "Sam DeGode, this is Bran Michaels, my partner. Bran, this is the guy I told you about."

We exchanged pleasantries. Then Abu and Bran engaged in an intimate kiss. I was a bit surprised. "You, I mean…"

I was lost for words. Bran laughed. "Yes, Abu and I are lovers. We first met years ago when I was an invited guest of a filthy-rich college roommate, and Abu was one of the teens in the Gentry Mansion. Years later I was hired here as a computer tech. We met again and were soon taken with each other, though our paths only infrequently crossed. Things progressed. Abu, at my request, was allowed to move in with me. That was a year ago.

At the dinner, simple but delicious, I was engaged in a conversation which seemed unreal. A slave, a comp tech, and a guest at a boy brothel, being completely domestic. I finally spoke: "So you're the surprise Abu wanted to show me?"

Mark laughed heartedly. "A year ago, when Abu and I decided to be together, in spite of its rarity, I was the one surprised."

"Rarity?" I stupidly repeated.

"Abu and I are not master and slave, except by happenstance. In this house we are equals. But wait, we have another surprise. He comed and said he was running late."

I was intrigued but neither would give me an additional clue. The dinner came to a pleasant end, with a simple desert.

Then the next surprise came barging into the house all excited and clamoring. "Dad, I'm home." And skidded to a halt when he saw me.

Abu laughed at my strangled exclamation. A boy! A beautiful boy! Just about my desired age in a boy too. But alas, fully clothed and not a collar in sight.

Mark introduced us. "Sam DeGode, my son Mark Jr, from a previous relationship. Mark, say hello to Sam; he's one of the resort's guests."

I barely had the verve to shake hands. The boy interrupted my jumble of thoughts. "Oh, you one of the guys who used to like my other Dad? I mean when he was a boy?"

I struggled to find an appropriate reply. (And I hoped I didn't look nearly that old, even to a twelve-year-old kid).

The boy Mark Jr short-circuited the thoughts I was entertaining. "Don't worry Mr. Sam. I know all about both my Dad's jobs. The kids I meet get surprised when I tell them one of my Dads is a real slave!

We had a very interesting conversation, but shortened because I had an appointment with a certain twelve-year-old slaveboy I did not want to be too late for. Abu, Mark and I agreed to keep in touch. (This one did have a collar).

Just before I left, Abu stated with heavy emotion:

"This person here accounts for a goodly portion of my contentment and happiness. If you said I could change anything whatsoever about my life, I would tell you, 'very little'. Perhaps a bit more authority to gain better conditions for the slaves here. But compared to most slave bastions, this is actually one of the better ones."

"If you could, would you gain your freedom?"

"No, not even that. I have too long been a slave and would be uncomfortable without my collar. Both literally and figuratively. However, the question is moot. According to current Slave Law, no Class Three Slave may ever obtain manumission."

Chapter 5
Mud Boy

Sam DeGode's perspective

Was it an entire five days?" Sam's DeGode said aloud to no one.

His vacation was over; time had moved so fast. Sam had, almost by strength of will, forced himself back to the City of Calais, where the slave auctions were less than a day and a half away. He was disciplined enough to get back into a boy finding rhythm. He had his com, with the remaining files in front of him. What few there were still remaining for his perusal.

He internal com informed it was not quite 9, local time. The room he booked this time, overlooked the slave detention facilities, perhaps in a subconscious effort to be able to look out at some random cell, and see within, that one boy he had been looking for.

As he gazed downward, Sam momentarily allowed his mind to wander to the memories of those extraordinary boys who had titillated his being with wonder. And the memory of that spectacular boy who had that something extra. That special allure.

The twelve-year-old, on that next to last day, had been on display in the Hall of Boys, to the delight of all who viewed him, his antics and movement a joy to watch. The boy seemed to have rhythm and poise, his lengthy doubled penis seemingly dancing along with him in an exotic seduction. He had every one calling him the Danseur de la Savoie.

Sam called him the Queer Incubus. He'd spent the next 24 hours with the boy the majority of them in his bed discovering just how insatiable the little minx was for sex. The boy himself was an aphrodisiac.

Though forced by his drug regimen to remain prepubescent, the boy had remarkable recuperative powers as Sam had brought the quite willing boy into a rapid succession of dry orgasms. And his dusky hued boy-hole invited and accommodated Sam's own adult member, in reciprocal manner. Sam mused: "The boy was a delight. And almost as hungry for sex as myself."

A tolling sounded. The reverberations from the anachronistic clock in the tower facing his force-shielded portal which opened onto the courtyard below, chimed the hour.

"Oh well," Sam brooded, "time to get back to work. He hoped that in about 48 hours, he would own another Mud Boy."

Maxim Kabuda's perspective

"Was it only five days?" Max said aloud to no one.

Maxim couldn't believe that the worst thing so far about being a slave was boredom; time moved so slow. Now that the wait was almost over, Maxim, had, almost by strength of will, forced himself nearly back his usual optimism. The slave auctions were less than a day and a half away. He was disciplined enough to envision this time as an adventure, which in some weird way, was exactly that

Max looked out the small portal of his cell and glanced about, especially towards the high-rise edifice across the courtyard, and allowed his imagination to wander. Did one of those opulent rooms hold his future master?

A tolling sounded. The reverberations from the anachronistic clock in the tower facing that building, at one end of the courtyard below, chimed the hour.

"Oh hell," Maxim brooded, "time was not going to stop. In less than 48 hours, I will be owned by someone."

Sam DeGode's perspective

A com call from an official of the State Slave Auction notified Sam of his auction code. He'd need it to make any legal bid on a slave up for sale at this next auction. But with all the files he'd so far been through, and the meager choices remaining, he was not sanguine about the chances that he'd be coming away from the Calais auction with his 'Mud Boy'.

Sam took a short breather and asked his private com to connect with the Xanadu Pleasure Dome booking site. A few quick touches on the virtual screen which appeared before him and he was smiling again with renewed energy. He booked one of the very few openings that remained with the very first group to tour the fully opened facilities for the Menagerie of Extraordinary Boys. He also booked several other venues.

Sam decided that his luck was changing as the very next file seemed to grab his attention. After careful study, he immediately arranged a real time, real presence, interview. Uncommon in these days of inexpensive 360-holo connections, but much more satisfactory as far as he was concerned.

The next morning, less than two hours before the start of the auction, he was conducted by one of the guards at the Calais Auction house to a small room with complete access to all manner of monitoring devices. He always liked to check on how the boy was reacting. The boy could dissemble or even lie, but the monitors didn't.

The boy brought into the room was above average in the looks department, though not a knock-out, or perhaps he'd been spoiled by the boys at that Xanadu resort. Nonetheless, he did have something about him that really appealed to a boy lover when seen in person. So far, he'd come under the perusal of only a couple of the more inexpensive of the boy brothels looking for Indentures who would be only kept in a prepubescent, or early pubescent condition by inexpensive drug regimens. He hoped it would stay that way so that the boy's auction price would be relatively low. Well, he would see.

After studying the boy as he stood there naked and unusually calm considering the circumstances, Sam recognized that although not of a classic boy allure, he did exude a certain vitality and charm. The boy seemed to be much more ethnically of a darkish Oriental race than normally seen. And quite small for his age, all to the good. And athletic; he'd been on a swim team. Yes, very pleasing indeed.

"Please sit boy. You'll want to please me. If we buy your Indenture, you will be treated quite well. Our Indentures have remarkable freedom for a slave."

The boy was looking all about but still did not seem excessively anxious. Sam looked at the monitors. No, the boy had not been given any drug to calm him down. Too often that was the case with the newly enslaved, especially in these circumstances. After some preliminary communication again about the prospective role the boy was being considered for, the boy even started smiling.

"Boy, you seem not to be reacting like most of our new young Indentures. Your cognitive rating would indicate you understand quite well what I'm referring to."

Maxim was indeed thinking that his Indenture might be an adventure after all. He liked this guy and more so, what he had been describing.

"Master, I feel really weird calling anyone master. Like it's not quite real yet."

Sam chuckled. "Boy, the first time someone bends you over, and wails your butt with a tawse, it will become very real. You should be punished right now; you failed to answer my implied question."

"Yes Master. And this Mud Boy thing seems very interesting. Though it's difficult to think of myself doing all that. I'm so small."

"Of course, boy, your size is actually an advantage. And you are definitely athletic enough. You were on a swim team. You are correct; it is a challenge for the new boys."

"Yes Master, but I mostly came in near last."

"Going after diamonds won't be timed. Of course, the task of retrieving the raw diamond clusters is only half your duties."

"Yes, I was… Yes Master, I wondering about that. The only other interviewers questioned me about all kinds of sex stuff. I'm think I'm terminally embarrassed. And now sitting here naked even. Why do we have to be naked sir?"

Sam chuckled. Largely it was to impress the new slaves, that their lives were no longer their own. And it puts then also at a major disadvantage.

Sam chose not to answer the question. "Boy, you presume to ask such a question? You're a slave. Get used to not knowing the why of a lot of things. Of course, when in training, you'll then be required to ask why. In fact, our techniques for encouraging you to learn what is needed are quite simple. Don't, and be punished."

"Yes master."

Sam looked at the monitors and was encouraged. The boy had been only mildly upset at this last remark. And throughout, he'd been totally truthful."

"If we successfully pick up your Indenture, you will be chosen by one of our three-man teams. And they will definitely expect your cooperation. You are a slave and will be required to obey them. And I will be blunt. They will expect to use you for their own enjoyment."

Sam noted that the boy appeared quite upset for the first time.

"Boy, you are upset. Explain."

Maxim hesitated, and the feared the consequences of not being totally truthful.

"Master, I'm afraid. That kind of sex hurts."

"Not necessarily boy. Along with the implants for the maturation and growth inhibitors, you will be given a rectal implant which will both help avoid any significant pain, and will also make you even more receptive to enjoying anal sex. And I assure you, the men want a happy and enthusiastic team member, not merely a slaveboy. You will be expected to obey and will be disciplined for any deviation from your protocols, but I assure you that we want a boy who will perform well both in and out of bed. Too much is riding on your task as a Mud Boy. You will be fitted with a direct neuro-cortex interface device and trained in its use. It commonly takes from 10 to15 days to integrate it with your brain function. All our Mud Boys enjoy the experience. Sort of seeing with sound.

"Thanks, Master. I guess. I'm still scared. But I'll do my best."

"We know boy. Your profile is impressive. And I have a surprise for you."

Sam touched a control and a few moments later a very vivacious and excited boy, seemingly about Maxim's age, entered the room and knelt before Sam: "This slave obeys." And unable to stop snickering, finally burst out laughing, and continued: "And etc, etc, and all that other slave bullshit stuff…' And added almost seemingly as an afterthought: "Master sir."

Sam exasperatedly replied: "Take the other seat boy and behave. Don't be a bad influence. This will probably be another Mud Boy."

Maxim did not miss the reference, and looked for the miniature device attached to the boy's forehead. He barely could make out the twin bumps widely spaced under the skin on the boy's forehead.

Sam addressed the prospective new Mud Boy: "This, as you heard, is one of our Mud Boys. His name is Pete, and he's at the end of his twelve-year Indenture. He's on his way back from visiting his family. He was Indentured by his parents to help provide for all his younger brothers."

Sam addressed the boy: "Introduce yourself and say how much you liked your last twelve years."

Pete laughed and replied: "Must I master. Do I have to lie?"

Sam yelled at the boy: "I said behave. I can still discipline you. In fact, I will."

The boy sobered. "Yes Master. Just having some fun."

"Fun boy, OK. Disrespecting your master in front of anther new Indenture, you're more intelligent than that."

"OK, I mean yes Master." Pete turned to Maxim. The somewhat abashed boy spoke: "The truth is that about 90% of the stuff is great. And the other 10% was putting up with the sometimes heat and sometimes frightening squeezes you can get yourself into. The mud is sort of slimy but neat to move through. The sex part was totally in the first 90% part. Of course, I'm a total man-boy sex boy."

Maxim really liked this Pete. And his fears and uncertainties were beginning to be mollified. "I'm taking your place?"

"Not mine. I've requested another twelve-year Indenture. I've decided to be a Mud Boy as long as the drug regimens can keep me small and still a boy."

Maxim goggled at the reply: "You want to stay a slave?"

"Well maybe I'm a bit strange, but I like being made to do things. Especially the sex things. I still think that if advertised properly they'd get all the boys they needed, voluntarily."

Maxim noticed the slave collar which was mostly covered by the boy's clothing. "You're dressed."

Pete chuckled: "Not for long."

"And you're collared. That can make you obey. Don't you ever feel like doing, well I don't know, other stuff? Not just slave things?"

Sam interrupted: "What Pete doesn't even understand himself very well, he's a natural slave. He enjoys being 'ordered to do stuff' as you put it. Being a Mud Boy requires a boy to follow exactly and completely what his controller orders him to do. Pete responds very well under those circumstances."

Pete added: "And being forced to do all that sex stuff. It hardly takes any force at all." And Pete laughed again.

And Sam offered: "And the Freedom Bonus at the end of those twelve years we double. It insures that you can get any kind of further education you would like."

For the first time in weeks Maxim was relatively hopeful about his immediate future. But a sudden thought had him anxious again.

"Sir, but what if someone outbids you."

Sam rejoined simply. "If we bid on you, and so far, I'm quite convinced that we will, assuming the results of the monitoring we have going doesn't say we shouldn't, we will not be outbid."

The importance of his situation gave Maxim a bit of additional courage: "When will I know?"

Sam looked at the chronometer, and replied: "About twelve hours, give or take."

Late that night a very anxious Maxim got the good news. And then got all anxious again when he thought about actually being a Mud Boy. And a slaveboy. He sighed and said aloud even though there was no one to hear. "Wow."

***

Three days later, an anxious new slave, now owned by the DeGode Consortium, kept trying to reassure himself that this was a good outcome. He was put into his permanent collar and the thing was adjusted to him. Later he'd been surprised when he was allowed to communicate with a couple of his friends at his old boys' home, and they were quite surprised to see a collared and naked boy on their 360-holo com.

"Oh Daemons of the Depths of Daneb!" one of those at the com remarked. "Everybody! Max is on the com for us! And naked!"

The friend quickly gathered a few others around.

"Wow, Max, how come you're naked!"

"Slaves do what their master tells them. I was told that since I would spend most of my next twelve years naked, I may as well get used to it."

Another of his friends remarked. "Well, we've seen each other in the showers all the time. But what's up? Your smile's back."

"I think I may have lucked out, Jeter. I hope so anyway. I'll be specially trained to work in a diamond mine in the Abusador Depression of the Teaming Jungle. Yeah, I may have really lucked out."

"You call being Indentured lucking out?"

Maxim very briefly explained about being a 'Mud Boy'.

Jeter knew his fried: "Hey, Max, what aren't you saying?"

Max then explained about the 'other' part of his 'job'.

"Look Jeter, you know I'm a boy-boy person. I just hope the guys who pick me are nice. There was another Mud Boy I met who even signed up for another twelve years."

They all thought both Max and this other boy to be bonkers.

"One last thing guys. Tell everyone back there I think I'll be OK." And Maxim then said something he'd never had the nerve before to say: "And tell Mike I think he's cute."

They all razed him. Then they saw him suddenly kneel and address someone out of view. "Yes Master."

That really brought home to his friends that Max was now a slave.

Max returned to the middle range of the holo pick-up. "Got to go guys."

And the connection was ended.

Sam DeGode made a slightly different 360-holo com call to the DeGode Board back in his home arena. His call ended with a "Yes sir."

He mused, maybe not too different from Maxim's call, after all.

***

It was two weeks into Maxim's training, as a slave, and as a Mud Boy. Unlike many of the other slaves sold at the auction who would be shipped, Maxim, along with the other Mud Boy, had traveled as actual passengers, along with their current master-in-charge, Sam DeGode, in a commercial air-bus to the Abusador Depression of the Teaming Jungle, specifically the Gundar outpost. Population, soon to be 147.

On reaching the instillation, Maxim was brought around the place, and made familiar with it. It was not very large, but then again, the area in which the team worked did not need to be large. Aside from their living quarters, there was the main working area which gradually deepened as they drilled ever deeper. Here Maxim would be regularly put into a small capsule, delivered to the area being worked, and 'swim' through the matrix, mostly mud at that point, and be guided by the computer. (The guys there called it 'squimming').

The other areas, mostly up top, consisted of the other working members of the mining operation, but Maxim would have little contact with them except for the doctor and others assisting him and the techs who would install and adjust his implants. Here he would also receive his rectal implant. He was shocked to see that it looked truly evil. It was a narrow flexible tube which was pushed into his rectum. He decided at first it wasn't too bad, but then the tech did something and the thing inside sort of grew a bulb at the end. Maxim screeched.

"Take it easy boy," the doctor cautioned. "You'll get used to it, and it isn't permanent. And try to keep it in for periods as long as possible. It has several functions. It will keep injecting minute amounts of an enzyme which will encourage extra growth to your rectal muscles, and enlarge their opening. There is also a miniature force-field device which will periodically cause these muscles to expand and contract in order to make your butt more user friendly so to speak. And lastly there is a numbing agent for use if you are experiencing any discomfort after someone uses your butt and rectum for sex. But we would not recommend you doing that for at least three weeks. The sex part that is. I'll recheck you at that time."

The another something was done and Maxim did more than screech. He jumped toward the ceiling.

"Yealch! Oh, oh no! Stop it!"

"Boy, first, you use proper slave protocol at all times. That means you never tell anyone what not to do. And you address everyone with Master."

A very figidity boy replied: "Yes Master. But that was squiggling in my butt."

"Was it painful boy?"

"No master."

"Then get used to it. You'll find a schedule for the device's use on your com. You will adhere to it. There will be absolutely no excuses. You will also report any substantial pain."

Other instructions were given but it all amounted to one thing. Maxim's butt was to get sex-ready, and in several weeks.

Next his cortical implants were emplaced. Maxim was anesthetized for this, a long and very delicate procedure. The implant took three hours of microsurgery. He slept through it and barely made into dinner. He was quite grateful there was no significant pain afterwards, and he healed quickly. Getting the ability to use the thing, well that was another matter.

Two weeks later, Maxim was so immensely frustrated, but not at all about the slave stuff. And not with much else. But he seemed not able to get the blasted sound thing to work for him.

Maxim found his slave protocols, demanding and rational, and not at all onerous. Just difficult all the time to keep in mind. At times he'd be so engrossed in the operation of the mine, and specifically his own duties, he sort of forgot his protocols. Of course, that collar kept reminding him whenever he slipped. Reminding with ever increasing punishments. He also learned what a tawse was. But that was definitely not what had him so frustrated at the moment.

He even discovered he was 'good' (if that was the right word) at being a slave. Of course, a major factor was the fact that he had an important and respected role in the endeavor. And the people he worked with were conscientious and treated him well. After learning one difficult series of procedures he lightly mentioned to someone: "Master, one good thing about being an actual slave, you never have to worry about doing something wrong. You always had an immediate correction."

To his own surprise, Maxim quite readily adapted. Of course, there had been moments.

When first introduced to the team, and shown his Masters' individual suites, Maxim finally got the nerve to ask: "Master, (he was to consider each one, his master) where do I… ah, bunk?"

They all laughed. Maxim looked at each of the men in turn.

Bong was the youngest and most like Maxim himself in looks. Of course, somewhat bigger. And always quite serious. He was, however, quite conscientious not only with his own work, but in working with Max. Though quite demanding and a near perfectionist, he was quite adept of showing Maxim the most difficult of tasks. In bed with Max, he mostly stayed aloof, of course he expected Max to do exactly as directed.

Kalief was the next oldest, just into his thirties. He'd been a recruit from old earth, somewhere called Arabia. Maxim never tired of being shown 360-holos of old earth and hearing what Kalief quite enthusiastically explained. Kalief was quite a lot darker in hue than the other men and when in bed with Maxim treated him more like a lover than a slave.

Andy was about ten years older than the others. He was from a boarder province and had quite an accent. But he was always the most fun, and rarely serious when off the job. He was possibly the most, shall we say, creative, in his sex with his 'slave'. Though he treated Maxim as a 'sexslave', and frequently used varying methods of restraints and bondage on him, Maxim responded well, and looked forward to his night with Andy. Andy made it fun.

All in all, Maxim was finding his nights with each of the men, not a chore at all. In fact, except in those rare instances when he was too tired out, he quite enthusiastically looked forward to it.

It was Andy who laughed the loudest and who informed the new slave: "Boy, you don't need a separate bed. You'll be sleeping with one of us every night. And most commonly with each on successive nights."

It was then Kalief whose murmur was barely audible: "Lucky bugger."

Bong continued: "The only exception will be those infrequent times when there will be two of us sharing you together. The way the schedule works out, it will happen on the night before our day off and your one day off each three-week period."

Maxim chose to concentrate on this 'day-off'. "I get a day off?"

Andy interrupted: "On that one day, you will even be permitted to leave the immediate facility. With supervision of course."

Bong seemed totally nonplused at being interrupted. "It's been shown," he elaborated, "That most slaves in your position, will be overall more productive when allowed an occasional period of relaxation, and to have a short period where you need not concentrate on your duties."

And Andy again laughed: "Boy, I suspect on those days off, you will need that day to recuperate from what will be demanded of you the night before."

Maxim was momentarily appalled. They had been so cavalier about it all, as if he were a commodity. But in a way, that was exactly what he was, but a very valued one. He tried to smile. He had been reminded again that he was indeed a slave.

Of the three, it was Bong who was to prove the most demanding of their slave. And always considered Maxim exactly that, his slave. And unlike the other two, never once, acted as a friend. But strangely, it was Bong whom Max found most sexually attractive. And in spite of his attitude towards him, Max found himself quite responsive to Bong's sexual demands. Max tried to figure it out several months down the line. True Bong was the most physically attractive to Max sexually. But it was more than that.

Maxim eventually asked the doc there who also had expertise dealing with slaves.

"Boy, I've looked up your emotive and psych profiles. Together with what you have shared with me I suspect the conclusion is quite simple. You're responding to Bong as a slave. And for you, it is sexually satisfying."

Maxim considered and replied: "Master doc, that's nuts. You're saying I like being a slave."

"What I am saying boy, you respond quite positively and sexually when treated as a slave. You find it a sexual turn-on. I also note that nothing that is demanded of you, you find onerous or unpleasant. That also contributes to your easy acceptance of your status and you find yourself responding accordingly."

After the rectal implant did its thing, the sex was even more rewarding. Maxim soon realized he eagerly looked forward to each night. The men had been insistent but gentle. But that was more than a week after he had his waterloo with his cortical implant.

Sam DeGode, who assisted in his early training, especially his slave training, kept reminding him. "Look Max, in some ways, being a Mud Boy, makes maintaining one's slave protocols even more difficult. As a Mud Boy you have almost too much freedom. Don't allow this allusion of freedom make you to think you are ever self-directed. As a Mud Boy it is imperative that you allow the drill-comp to direct your every move. For your protection as well as the need of your crew."

"Yes master, that part I seem not to mind, and seem to have caught on pretty well. I don't even mind it most the time. What has me so frustrated is this Sinister Segment of the Salacious Silicon in my head!" Pointing to the bumps on his forehead.

"Don't worry, boy, the monitors showed that your cortex was juvenile enough to well integrate this new array of sensors. Just give it time."

Maxim later was in a totally blacked out room for the umpteenth time, trying to use that Damned Demented Dabit of Daneb, as he also was also want to refer to it. Both Sam and Bong were there for the training session, each with helmet-like devices which had the image of what they were looking towards, reconstructed by computer imaging. Even light sensitive goggles were useless in the absolute dark. In a fit if frustration, Maxim then picked up the nearest object, a used meal pouch, as hurled at the rear end of Master DeGode as he turned about, hitting exactly where he had aimed, his master's butt.

Sam howled, first in surprise, and then in delight, as he realized just what Maxim had done.

Maxim cringed, he immediately realized just what his flare of temper had merited him. He could even be charged with attacking his master.

Sam turned on very minimal lighting, rushed over to his new Mud Boy, and lifted the small boy in elation.

Sam joyously exclaimed: "You did it! Just now. You did it!"

Maxim himself was both appalled and overjoyed. "So that is a what looking with sound 'looked' like!" He thought he was 'seeing' ghosts."

Sam then burst his bubble. "Of course, you've also earned yourself twenty swipes."

What was meant was 20 swats of the strap, hard swats on a naked behind. Maxim felt fortunate. In actuality, it was only a nominal punishment.

***

The celebration that evening went on all night, as Max found himself going from one bed to another. It was quite rare when all three men were off duty at the same time, but they had been in training on some new tech.

They all saw Maxim as a wonderful slip of a boy, dexterous and so yielding to their demands. Each a man who enjoyed using a boy whom they could totally dominate and enjoy. Max discovered that he equally enjoyed being the submissive.

In hue, Bong was most like Max, a medium brownish Oriental type, his forebears possibly came from the southern regions of the that area of the old earth continent. Max found him quite attractive, sort of a larger edition of himself, perhaps just a shade darker. And though he was supposed to be almost 26, he looked barely out of his teens. His genitals of perfectly average size, and the wrinkled folds about his butt-hole, were a couple shades darker than the rest of him. Max really came to enjoy sucking on Bong's penis. And other parts of his body, but was always expected to be totally directed what to do. And it was oral sex that Bong had most engaged in. Though occasionally he was in a mood to really ream Max's butt quite hard and fast. But being only 5' 6" [1.67 cm] and 135 pounds [61 kg], Max did not have a problem with Bong manipulating his body.

While Kalief was not much darker than Bong, he looked quite different. Whereas Bong barely had a hair except that on his head and at his groin, Kalief had heavy mats of hair all over. And Kalief's dark skin was of a totally different hue, more dusty dark, verging on black in the inner reaches of his genitals, taint, and butt crease. Kalief, quite a lot bigger than Bong, at neatly 6' 1" [1.85 cm] and at least 50 pounds [23 kg] heavier, was usually quite genital and would more coax Max into discovering varying aspects of the sex act as they got to enter into a very personal bond. And he was quite patient, only gently using Max's butt hole for anal sex, after a couple months, recognizing his 8 inch [20 cm] penis was indeed well over average in size. Max reveled in his tender love making. He seemed to really covet the body of his slaveboy.

Andy, however, was quite a different animal. When having sex with his slave, the boy was indeed his slave. But more as an assumed character, than in fact. He was greatly into bondage and physical control and introduced Max over the weeks into more and more restrictive bondage, and 'did things' with his slave's body. All to Max's eventual delight. At 40, but with good build, he was about half-way between Bong and Kalief in size, of modest endowment, and was the only one there who was a full Caucasian.

***

Two days after the big celebration, Maxim was brought down the additional ¼ mile [400 m] to the depth of the ongoing operation. He was deemed proficient enough to benefit from an actual run in the 'mud'. He had on full head encasement called his safety helmet. He called it his head cage. In actuality it was a pliable form fitting thick covering over his entire head which protected it from the mud in which he would 'squim' through, and any possible protrusion he might come in contact since he was still inexperienced. A small breather was fitted to mouth and nose. And the streamlined force-field enclosed tanks were fitted around his neck, reaching down between his shoulder blades. With new tech, though quite heavy, an anti-grav unit allowed the boy to easily maneuver with the object. It just took him a while to adjust to the extra mass.

Three trips later, Maxim was 'squimming' through the varying densities of mud and conglomerate, as he had swum through the water when on his Home's swim team. Of course, it took substantially more muscle and effort. But Max exalted in his newly discovered abilities and in his role as 'Mud Boy', and quickly gained proficiency.

It was about this time when he had also become a full-service boy in the beds of his three masters. His butt thing had done its thing. A thing the others exalted in.

It was on one of the nights when Maxim had a strange thought. He was in Master Bong's bed and sort of half dozing while in the post orgasmic glow after having been totally and thoroughly used by his master.

Master Bong had made an uncharacteristic remark just before falling asleep, holding onto the smaller body of his slave, bringing him into his chest.

Maxim distinctly heard him say: "Boy,… Max,… you're a good slave."

First of all, Bong had never used his actual name before. He'd always called him either boy or slave. And secondly, he'd never been complimented like that before either. Sure, good Job, or good Mud Boy, or good several other things, but never "good slave." And Maxim had a thought. He liked that compliment. He was a good slave and reveled in the fact.

And Maxim fell asleep that night recognizing that he was content. And happy being exactly what he was. A Mud Boy. And a good slaveboy.

Chapter 6
Enslavement and Modification of Bantu Kabuda

Bantu's perspective

I had finally stopped crying about the twelve years slave thing. They give it some fancy name but it's still being a slave.

And then another bam!

And this the very worst bam of my entire life! And that's why I'm now being poked, prodded, and tested by all kinds of doctor things. And just why I have to be starkers for most of it I think is just to make sure I remain embarrassed forever. And talk about embarrassing, I'm convinced that they did something to me, or gave me something, or whatever, but my penis simply would not go soft. Earlier I kept trying to hide it and tried to stop it from sticking up, but nothing worked, and those assholes wouldn't stop snickering. I swear that everyone around here liked seeing me boned up. Eventually, from simple overload, I just gave up. And after a while, I even stopped worrying about it. Especially after seeing at least two other boys here who were also totally naked, and with collars. I discovered they were actually owned by people working here and even helped out with stuff.

And I will never admit this in a million light-years, but I sort of was envious. They were really good-looking boys. I sure never saw any boy as dark as one of them. I swear when he was in a deep shadow he almost disappeared. And I couldn't stop looking at their boners. Maybe it was something they fed people here, but those boys also seemed to stay boned-up all the time. And boy, that black kid had one at least 5 inches [13 cm] long! And he wasn't even puberting yet. And I couldn't understand it. Didn't they realize they were slaves? They were always laughing and joking around, and they even didn't care when someone wound actually touch their stuff. One I swear even seemed to want them to do that stuff to him.

And I was appalled when one guy told me: "Get used to it kid. Your penis will become a big thing in your life." Then he jabbed the guy next to him and laughed saying: "Big… get it… big." And the other guy started laughing so much I thought he was going to fall over; I couldn't understand what the joke was about.

That was when I started thinking about other things. Like what that nice man at the auction told me. He seemed so absolutely sure that he would win the bid on me.

"Be assured kid, no one will be able to outbid us. We have a rider on the auction. No matter what bid comes in, ours automatically increases. You can assume you will become the property of the Buddingo Brothers. And you should be grateful. They run the best man-boy resort in the country, probably the planet."

"And with the new policies, you will live a very coddled life."

I wasn't sure what he meant by coddled, but he was looking at me like I was some kind of rabbit, and he was the wolf.

I finally found the courage to actually speak. I had stopped shaking.

"Master. What do you mean by coddled, master."

I had to say 'master'. The people here said I was already a slave and had to show 'respect'. And their definition of respect was way more than just being respectful to adults as had been shoved into us at the home. And I sure didn't want that collar to zap me again. It sent a really strange bad feeling into my entire body. It only hurt a little but after the tenth zap or so you were careful not to get the eleventh.

"Look boy, this is where you will live. It's brand new and has all the most modern tech. Even a multi-mini-force-field bed. The absolutely finest in comfort. And the temperature adjusts for body temperature so you will never feel too cold or too hot. And there's also a game and com room where you will be able to relax on occasion."

While talking, a 360-holo was playing, showing the place. It looked like something out of the Abodes of the Disgustingly Rolling-in-it and Debauched. That was the name we gave to a show on the multi-com about rich guy's homes. I wasn't sure what debauched exactly meant but I knew it wasn't nice.

I started feeling at least not totally horrible afterwards. I never did get around to finding out what I'd been forced to do there but I realized that it had to do with men using me for sex.

After that things went fast. I was glad. I'd actually been so bored with nothing to do. I was formally told that I'd been sold. To that place I saw in the holo. Then they put me into a box. I am not kidding, a box! They called it a transport cage, but it didn't have any bars and stuff. It was a fancy box. I think they gave me an inoculation of something because I didn't seem to care about what they did to me. Stuffing things into all my holes like my butt-hole and penis-hole and so on. Then they stuffed me into that box and suddenly I couldn't hardly move. At least it didn't hurt or anything. I could even drink from that tube thing they secured in my mouth like I was baby again.

Eventually I ended up here, wherever here was. I never saw anything but corridors and rooms all filled with hospital things, and weird computer stuff. I got really scared when a sort of boy came in and started helping me with things. I was not able to get out of the sort of monitor-bed I was in. They had a force-field keeping me there. But that boy. He was totally naked too. I thought, at first, he was there like me but he said he'd already been modified and was owned by one of the doctors there. He even seemed like he liked being a slave. He pointed out his collar. It looked more like a fancy heavy neckless. I couldn't understand, but when he mentioned this doctor he even smiled. I kept looking for what had been done to him but couldn't see anything different from a normal boy. He was still young; he didn't have any hair and stuff. But he was one with an all the time boner. As I said I was terminally embarrassed.

***

I was suddenly pulled back into the here and now when a guy, the nice one, who actually would answer some of my questions, attached something to my head, a helmet sort of thing.

"Boy, we now need you to not move around too much. Do we need to strap you down again?"

"No master." I hated those straps. (I hated having to say 'master' too). But not like you might think. About the straps I mean. Just that they sort of made me feel good kind of and I didn't want to think about why.

Usually, every time I tried to find out anything at all, I was told to be quiet. But now this guy said they needed to do one more last data collecting. He said I needed to watch another 360-holo. He said that they were going to show me what was to happen. The holo would be what they expected to make me look like. I thought about those other two slaveboys here and decided it couldn't be too bad.

It was almost not to be believed!

Now I really freaked. They quickly gave me a shot and then strapped me down again. Why they couldn't just use a force field I never did understand. And they kept that image revolving and made me watch. After a while I calmed down quite a lot. And then became almost intrigued. I think they put something in that shot which made me not so scared, and not so other stuff.

"Can they really do that?" I wondered with wonder.

I must have asked that allowed.

"Of course. That's what you'll look like is about 4.32 months. People are paying us a lot of money to have you modified that way."

I could not really put that image into my reality. Even though the image amazed and even engrossed my curiosity, I still couldn't think of myself being that boy.

"Please, how can a boy really exist like that? Please, I don't think I could ever get used to that."

"Boy, not only will you get used to it, by the time we have finished reformatting your brain, you will even enjoy It."

"No! That, I wouldn't believe!!"

Though a part of me thought exactly those thoughts, but another part of me, that part which denied all possible hope, thought differently. That part recognized that nothing would ever help me escape the inevitable. Against all hope, I decided without a doubt that what that bonkers of a doctor told me, what he claimed in that holo. I was about to be changed into. Totally something totally beyond total understanding… totally!

"Listen boy." It was said in a voice which demanded attention. "Listen, you cannot avoid this. We are quite good at what we do, and you are a perfect candidate. You will be made into this sex-slave. A very special sex-slave."

***

As they prepared Bantu's small body, he was told exactly what to do. Or not do. It didn't amount to much. It was mostly done to him. Even that sort of robe thing had been taken away and he was totally naked, again. Exactly why he had to be naked so often for what was done to him he hadn't much of a clue.

And later, near the end of his ordeal, he was so strangely ashamed as he sort of liked some of the things they did, how they made his body feel, especially when they touched his naked body. And then that holo! A tiny feeling seemed to emanate from his inner being. A tiny measure of excitement and even desire, thinking about that image. And even a tiny bit of hope that what that guy told him. That he would actually enjoy being that new boy. He tightly held onto that small skim hope. Even if most of him couldn't believe it.

They must have put some other drug into that shot. He started getting such real strong memories and images of his past couple weeks. And even a few things before. When he was still a normal regular boy.

He remembered back to those few times the other boys sort of were playing around and grabbing some victim and de-pantsed them, he, for some reason, liked watching. And especially that one time when it became his turn to be 'victim', he only pretended to struggle. When they pulled down his shorts, he didn't really make a big effort to stop it. And when they pulled down his small pant, he became really thrilled. He had some vague notion that it was sex related, his boner told him that. But the full significance eluded him. He decided not to worry about it too much. This present feeling was akin to that old feeling, but strangely even more substantial, more demanding.

He remembered when he had first become really curious about other boys, and their genitals. He had started looking around the shower room. Especially at Jerome who had all that hair, and that monster penis and scrotums. (To a prepubescent boy, even 5 inches [13 cm] was big).

A cavalcade of seemingly erotic images filled his basically unformed mind. And bish-bashed their way through. Carrying him with them in a sort of awe and wonder. And captivity.

Then he remembered back to the scary slave court, where he was never allowed to say anything. He couldn't really understand the big argument that happened when some guy in fancy duds said something about him not being a citizen of Dumara Province. His Mom had been so why wasn't he?

***

Bantu's reminiscings were curtailed when he was ordered by the doctor guy to lie still on some place which took a holo-tomographic image of his insides again. He lay down thinking again about being a sex-slave. A forever sex-slave. He knew from some of the older boys that sex was supposed to be fun. But the vague idea of what he was told that was going to be done to him, couldn't possibly be true. Even a twelve-year-old these days, with his multi-com, and all those streaming pulses of information trying to grab everyone's attention, or perhaps only the attentions of a select few, he HAD sort of heard small snippets here and there. That this kind of doctor-place might actually exist. Where boys like him could be changed into all manner of sex-boy-things. Boy-things which would be made to do sex-things. Though exactly how this could apply to him he had only a vague idea. And most of this idea was filled with many things he simply could not believe. (Of course, some of this information was not accurate. Some of those things couldn't happen). But he was starting to discover, especially after he had been shown that 360-holo of exactly what he would look like after he had been modified, that things WERE going to be done to him. That very word, 'modified', instilled within him a sort of dread. But strangely. at the same time. a kind of excitement.

Part of him didn't WANT to believe it. Didn't want to believe that what he was shown could actually be done to him. But with all the things which had already been done, and all the equipment and stuff which surrounded him, and all the people who were doing all manner of impossible to understand-things, he finally did believe. He understood enough. He was finally convinced this was going to happen.

But, what the boy still had trouble understanding, was the WHY it was going to be done to him. Just why would someone actually somehow want doing this to him? Or more so, why would others somehow want what the boy he was to become? The boy knew vaguely, only as a sort of fact that didn't really explain anything, that this was for that sex-stuff. He sort of understood the slave part. That part alone made him quake. He knew there were things he would be forced to do; probably many things he would not like. And he sort of knew, at least cognitively, what the sex part was. He'd seen enough holos. But it was putting those things together that to the totally inexperienced boy, which didn't quite make any sense. Sex was something that was sort of in some kind of vague future. Sort of a mystery which for some reason, simply didn't really engage his interest (until lately). Some boys he knew, especially the older ones in his State Boy's Home, made themselves really do all sorts of dumb things when they started to become girl-crazy. Many people told him that he too would eventually follow this same route. Though 'til now, he had a hard time imagining it. (And he suspected he would, if anything, become, boy-crazy instead).

In a little over four months, the time Bantu would be in and out of that gene-splice chamber, and in and out of several operating rooms, and put on a very specific and permanent, implanted, drug regimen, and fitted with a few internal stimulation devices, this small boy would be rapidly and shockingly 'educated', as was propelled ruthlessly into the world of man-boy sex.

Bantu was finally removed from the forced holo imager, and numbly allowed his body to be positioned in the modification tank. He felt the miniature force-fields take hold of his body in a relaxed but maintained upright position. It even felt relaxing. He was sort of excited-like as they touched some parts of his naked body. Especially when they put that long tube right into his penis. And again, when that big tube thing was forced into his poop hole, and he was quite startled when it suddenly expanded and attached itself. Uncomfortable at first, but not hurtful thankfully. He suspected that that hypo they had given him before they put him into that scary tank did something to him so he wasn't at all frightened, just emphatically curious now that his mind wasn't so taken up by his fears. Eventually tubes sort of filled all his openings and other things were attached to many other places on his naked body. He shuddered as he felt that hypo touch his neck. He recognized that it was then too late. That was the first of the gene-splices which would start changing him. So he was told. Then they totally immobilized his small frame of a body as they strengthened the series of micro force-fields which imprisoned him as he continued to seemingly float in mid-air. And eventually, mid-liquid, as it filled. He was told to keep breathing as the liquid cleared his mouth and nose. He was only curious at the prospect of breathing liquid.

***

Soon after, Dr. Erastes, together with his always curious and excitable slave, entered Bantu's monitoring creche. It would be manned continuously, until the boy had gone through his first gene-splice.

Dr. Erastes paused at a few of the monitor screens, nodded his head indicating satisfaction, and approached the assistant, a doctor and upcoming modification expert in his own right.

"Mark, anything I need to know?"

"No doctor, everything nominal. The boy easily withstood the first of the cell invasions. His temperature rarely lifted above 37.8 C [100 F]. Easily controlled."

"Good. I will be very interested if the commuter projections on his tumescent control is maintained in the target range. I'd like the boy to be able to engorge at will."

"I'd worked on that doctor. And I too wanted the boy to have such control. After all, he should be able to enjoy his new member, not be totally controlled by it. If anything, I overdesigned the required brain rewiring. Be assured doctor. This boy will not only be about the horniest creature about, but be fully able to control his penis."

"Good. And exactly my sentiments. It is my philosophy that these boys be allowed a measure of contentment and even enjoy, as much as we are able to accommodate them considering their owner's wishes and expectations, their sexual slavery. How about the physical additions?"

"The new reservoirs will not start to show for about a week yet. And they will only be rudimentary with the first splice. We decided we could always tweak the next splice if we find the need."

"Keep me informed. I need to know immediately if there is any significant problem. Or Dr. Macumbo, if I'm otherwise engaged." Dr. Erastes looked over at his 'imp', with licentious regard. His slave, one of the very first chimeras ever attempted, was his ever-present companion.

Dr. Erastes pulled his attention away from his beloved slave and back to the task at hand. "Mark, this kind of modification has been difficult to engineer. It is difficult to allow the new DNA only effect those areas desired for modification. I don't want him sprouting wing-buds."

They both chuckled.

"I think you have the wrong animal doctor." Mark replied, and then added: "And Dr. Erastes? Could you have that imp you keep calling a slave, stop fondling me?"

Dr. Erastes pulled the boy away from his victimized assistant. "Boy! I told you a hundred times." An exasperated master, but still unable to really discipline his cute slave, pulled him away from the monitor displays and touched a virtual control on his own personal com. The boy's tail whipped straight upward as the forcefield about his limbs had him held mostly immobile.

"Master, you're mean! The man's penis said he was enjoyin' it even."

Both doctors looked over at the slave with remarkable forbearance. He had long since become the unofficial mascot of the modification labs.

After attending to his own slave, Dr. Erastes asked the other doctor about the boy's psycho-emotive constructs.

"Mark, what about the restructuring of the brain pathways? What is your prognosis?"

"Doctor, with only minimal memory erasure and strengthening of the wanted traits and diminishing of those not, we will have a boy totally eager for sex, and quite amendable to a very passive role."

Dr. Erastes avowed his gratitude. "We have been quite fortunate in finding and acquiring such a boy. Exclusively male-sex-oriented, mostly submissive when aroused, and eminently convertible to react positively to a life of slavery. And most importantly, able to accept all his gene-splices and modifications. And Mark, how about the removal of all unwanted societal mores structures? You worked on that too."

"Easy. Our improved sifting techniques will be able to restructure the boy's brain pathways and eliminate unwanted memory transfers completely, and with remarkably little interference with his personality. He will be all rambunctious boy when he emerges. We will even have managed to have removed the few unwanted traits especially those which had the boy occasionally dismayed by an incorrect perception of his self-worth and those making him a bit paranoid about his future. Remember the interviews? No more his perceived bams in his future."

"Bams, Mark? What's that all about?" Dr. Erastes hadn't been privy to all the boy's interrogatives. Most had been delegated to Mark.

Mark explained, and summed up. "The diagnostic runs on his personality formation will have the boy emerging as the buoyant and engaging creature he was meant to be."

"Good Mark. Keep a strict attention on the emotive monitors. We do not want him to experience anything negative even in dream state."

Dr. Erastes stood, reached across, and lifted his own slave by the root of his tail, dangling him upside down. The boy squealed gleefully. "Master, that's embarrassin'. Everyone can see my poop hole."

"That poop hole, boy, will be in heavy use tonight. You better be ready."

The imp was at perfect height as Dr. Erastes could not resist handling the boy's jutting boy-rod. Amidst his yelping, the boy managed a barely understood exclamation. "Yea! How many times master? Can we break your record you think? It's been almost forever."

"Only a day and a half you imp. And Mark here said he used you last night!"

"Yes. But that was his record!"

(That 'boy', one of the earliest of the experimental chimeras, producing a delectable creature, had also been engineered to produce a sex enhancer readily absorbed by whomever used his sex holes).

Mark exhibited his own embarrassed half-smile. Dreaming of the day when he could afford his own 'imp'. His taste ran to a more 'normal' boy and young teen-like. He wanted his slave to be a bit more mature cognitively and emotionally, perhaps a precocious, barely pubescent, 14-year-old. In his free time, he had already written and run several computer simulations for the needed gene-splices. Of course, they would be contingent on the specific boy, but the basic work would be ready. He had already been looking through the multi-com intra-world net (WSI-net), and found a few scrumptious boys who were up for auction. That one boy from old earth was absolutely perfect. (He sighed)

Dr. Mark Quest pulled up a saved 360-holo and had it slowly revolve. The boy had been from the southern Sudan region of old earth and had a completely unadulterated genome of the typical very black and very ethnic African. He was just a bit underfed but he touched a control and the image added several pounds to the boy slim body. The boy stood at a slightly diminutive 4 feet 11 inches [1.50 cm], and the extra weight brought him up to a lithe 88 pounds [40 kg]. He touched a control and the remaining bit of adipose became emerging muscle. Just enough to better cover the boy's skeletal structure to best advantage. The boy's auction was nearing, but the cost of importation from old earth had added considerably to his expected price.

Dr. Mark played about with a few more controls and had the image he'd already used for his gene-splice computer models. The ebony skin became even more melanoid as to be atramentous. That figure had already been saved but he liked playing with the boy's image. The boy was to go on auction in only a few days. A Class Three Slave. He'd investigated. More important than the boy's physical makeup, was his underlying orientation. Strangely, the modification labs had severe difficulty changing a person's sexual orientation. It had been discovered not to be a factor with the cortex but with the so-called primitive brain, already formed in the earliest stages of gestation, and almost impervious to brain restructuring.

Dr. Mark pulled up the latest figures supplied by the best prognosticating programs at the lab's disposal. He was pleasantly surprised. Perhaps not as many people had his particular tastes in extreme ethnically Negroid body-types. This one was the most extreme he'd seen at auction is quite some time. And was probably now only available from old earth.

Dr. Mark pulled up his account. And knowing he was currently in favor with his bosses, he snuck a program into the prognostication computer program. A 76% chance of getting the advance needed if that price remained stable.

He looked at the time, and made a com call. The good Dr. Erastes should be just back to his relatively modest quarters and just about to ravish his 'imp'. He was ecstatic when Dr. Erastes gave him more than an assurance of his advancement. "Mark, I will personally loan, at no interest, all the funds necessary if there is any shortfall. Go for it. And those files you thought saved in secret. I went over them. Great modeling. I can only suggest a few tweaks. Good work! And when you get your boy here, I'll be glad to work with you on the final mock-up."

Mark could hear a sharp scream from a small slave in the background.

"Oh, and one more thing. Ask me later for the very latest in encryption programs, when in the future you really need to keep secrets. And whatever you do, don't store them in the company computer. They sift through that on a regular basis. Why do you think Dr. Menendez's twin boys were taken and made into Class Three Saves and shipped off planet? It was discovered he'd been experimenting with them totally contrary to company policy. And I might add against commonly perceived mores. Fortunately, it only took me several weeks even if thousands in computer time to salvage those cute boys. And much more than that to bribe the right officials. I am happy to state that we finally were able to remodify them so that they could live relatively care free lives if not free themselves. But we could not explain so modifying free citizens to an inconsistent and basically hypocritical public. Enslaving them was the company's only recourse. Remember, if enough money is thrown at a problem, any law can be circumvented."

Mark could hear in the background. "Master I got the binding straps you wanted."

"Oh, and Mark, ask for the last holos of those two boys. They turned out delightful, well for anyone wanting sex-slaves walking on all fours and with a little more than little boy genitals."

A forewarned Dr. Mark, resaved the programs into his own personal comp, barely able to store such large files, and opened a secure channel to the Calais Auction house. He made a bid, and cringed realizing that probably his next three years wages or more were entirely tied up. But he went to sleep the next morning thinking about his soon to be acquired sex-slave. He had previously noted the boy's redoubtable cognitive ability, a definite necessity for 'his' boy, and had already plans for his boy's program of study. He wanted so much more than a mere sex-slave. Unlike many, he was not so much into slave use or control as in slave companionship, even if some argued that to be oxymoronic.

As he was about to fall asleep, he wondered about having a slave that was more intelligent than his master. He smiled wondering at their future battle of wills as the boy matured. Mentally that was. His physiognomy, in the full sense of the term, would be forced to remain stable.

For now, back to his monitors. He'd of course set alarms to warn of even the slightest deviation from ordained progressions. He had not the slightest qualm about so modifying a boy. The boy was a slave after all. And in fact, he perceived the boy to be fortunate. His future life would should be an adventure.

Chapter 7
The Menagerie of Extraordinary Boys, part I

Another of the largely unnecessary meetings. At least as Abu perceived them. And of course, he was anxious to house the last slaves to be assigned to the newly completed and furnished Menagerie of Extraordinary Boys. Well except for that last wing but the negotiations for its occupants were still not completed. All its enclosures were currently set up for a single occupant. And those occupants would never be allowed to stray away from them. He shuddered thinking about the fate of any boy assigned to that wing.

And where did time disappear to? Almost five months since that meeting with the comptroller that assured him that current new policies would continue.

Across from him sat the newly hired Slave Acquisitions Manager. This meeting concerned the type of boys currently being sought. Ted Buddingo, of course, was ever mindful of price. But fortunately, this particular manager at least agreed with the new policies and seemed to even have some empathy for the requisitioned slaves. Especially the Class Three (non-consensual) Slaves. They had even listened to his own input. After a recital of numbers and profits, Abu (uncharacteristically) looked directly at Ted Buddingo and his brother and wondered what was new in their nefarious minds. He did recognize, that compared with other champions of business, they were models of restraint and even had their own sort of honor. Enough so that Abu was able to work with them.

Well, what was currently on Bud Buddingo's mind was obvious, as a muted squeal emanated from the small boy's muzzled (and apparently gagged mouth) as his master took charge of the boy's (apparently) enhanced genitals. And the same boy for five months now Abu noted with a small surprise.

Bud still had something for restrains, enhanced genitals, and small boys. And at least lately, seemed quite willing to allow the boy his own pleasure. Abu, looking at the boy, wondered if his modifications at the BoyToys labs had included stabilization. If the boy stayed as he was, Abu was already thinking of a possible landing place within the resort when Bud tired of him and obtain his next in a long line of boys. Perhaps it was time to advance his idea of a mixed boy venue, where the theme would be romping with a pair of boys, specifically trained either as a tag-team affair, or in a two-boy ménage. The Peter Pan Pavilion, an adjunct of the Pirates' Cove Resort on the mainland, had good success with this two-boy approach with only Indentures.

Abu was glad to have been purchased by this resort, whose clientele were rich enough to have been the frequent recipients of a re-juv, and other similar youth maintaining augments. He was happy to have had clients with nary a flabby body nor potbelly in sight.

Abu eventually begged his dismissal and retreated to the trellised portico where awaited a small modified two passenger calash with its liveried team of ponyboys utilizing its shade, together with an attending stable boy. Though old in its form and function, the carriage was quite a marvel of modern construction and engineering, easily pulled by the two small ponyboy team even at a full trot.

(Both cart and ponyboy were made more efficient by modern engineering. There were disguised motor assists in the wheel hubs of the wagon, and the leg muscles of the ponyboys were enhanced by gene-splice bio-engineering).

Abu never failed to be delighted as he watched the laboring ponyboys, and the flexing of their boy-muscled callipygians, as they pulled their calash through some of the more scenic byways of the Xanadu resort. A perk of his position of which he took full advantage. Having left the meeting with the resort's owners and new slave acquisitions manager, a bit later than he'd had hoped, he hurried to his next appointment at the new facility housing the resort's Menagerie of Extraordinary Boys.

Sitting next to him on the calash was the stable boy who had been waiting outside the Buddingo's office. The meeting, as usual for that kind of affair, carried on well past any usefulness. His own slave mentality had difficulty with time being so unwell spent. He had so little personal time, he wanted to keep the little bit he had.

Abu, accustomed to this manner of locomotion, merely sat back enjoying the sight before him. The ponyboys pulling the cart were of similar size and form, but one was a beautifully tanned Caucasian contrasting with his partner, a deep coffee colored black. Their naked legs and buttocks synchronized in movement and alluring in sexual appeal.

Abu momentarily took his eyes away from the black and white visage in front of him to look at the small naked slaveboy who was handling the reins of the two ponyboys. The stable boy, with straw hat, sandals with straps twining up his slim little boy calf's, and the usual manacles on ankles and wrists, joined with actual chains, easily maneuvered the four-wheeled vehicle at surprising speed over the smooth dirt road. Occasionally, the boy, seemingly not a month over eight years of age – though with age stabilization he could actually be considerably older – gave him an occasional look. The boy was amazingly cute, (not surprising at this resort) begging one to touch his beautiful tawny brown body, evidently supplied by both nature and the sun.

Abu looked at the small tag attached to his collar. It had on it the name of his stable and his number. With gag and muzzle, the boy could only answer by gesture. With only rare exceptions, all stable boys were permanently muted. He was typical of all stable boys whose job it was to handle the ponyboys, detaching them from their stalls in the morning, cleaning and feeding them, and readying them for their usual tasks. That of being exactly what they were – ponies. The boy seemed just a bit nervous and he wondered why. Abu also wondered just how the stable boys coped with being entirely denuded, nary a hair, nor hint of their former genitals. Perfectly smooth. Even though he knew that the boy could experience quite a good anal orgasm when rectally stimulated, he thought it still a seeming gratuitous modification of a perfectly good boy. But some guests seemed to take delight in using such a boy for their own gratification.

He finally asked the boy a question even though the boy was muted.

"Boy number 7, why the jitters?"

The boy momentarily handled the reins with one hand and with the other, flipped it up and down at Abu himself.

"I bother you somehow?"

The boy then touched the man's slave collar.

Abu laughed. "The world's changing boy. At least our small part of it. They actually made a slave, namely myself, manager of all the slaveboys here in the resort. (True as far as it went). I also sometimes make policy. Those reins you are now using. Specifically made so not to allow any strong pull on the ponies' mouths. A necessary improvement. And I've banned the use of all punishment bits, except in rare cases."

The one ponyboy let out a loud neigh. (They too were incapable of actual speech). But it seemed clear, the ponyboy had welcomed the change.

They soon reached the new building. It was quite large and looked more like a very fancy multi-storied barn and less like the fancy palace affair which had been the original special boy abode. Though it looked like a fancy barn on the outside, the inside was a modern example of a rich man's abode. With all manner of the latest in modern convenience. It currently housed about 25 of the original 'special boys', and about a fourth that number of slave attendants, plus an additional 37 boys of more modern radical modification by gene-splice and other forms of the most advanced bio-engineering. The boys were now grouped in their respective wings, though there was necessarily some overlap. Abu would be supervising the installment of eight new occupants forming the new wing containing some very specialized chimeras with juxtapositions of both human and animal parts, and recently delivered from the modification labs.

In the past, this exposition of the 'unusual' in boys as to form and circumstance, was severely limited since such extraordinary boys were difficult to find. But due to the remarkable advances in gene-splice technology, such boys could be manufactured in the BoyToys lab. Now, if you want a boy with two penises, or a prepubescent boy with an 8 inch penis [20 cm], or any other manner of the unusual or extraordinary, they can be produced. Of course, such boys as previously mentioned are now almost relegated to the mundane, since the very 'extraordinary' are now additionally available. Hence the new building.

Because of recent policy changes pioneered by Abu, the boys, except of course those in the new 'Structured Environment Wing' (not yet actually named), now had a bit more freedom, not only to move about, but to even form their own liaisons among themselves and their attendants. Sex included, if their sex parts were still up to it after all the use they got pleasuring their guests. They were even able to roam outside now and then, when given permission.

Most astonishing of all, they were even now allowed to ask permission to communicate, if granted permission, through a device already located in their slave collars, with working personnel and even fellow slaves.

A modern force-field fence, totally invisible but attuned to specific slave collars, kept the boys within a specific area. Only when with a guest, or with special permission, could a boy breech their confines.

Abu alighted from the carriage and proceeded to the yard where the seven SafeSecure Boy Cages had already been unloaded from the aircar, having been delivered from the boy storage facility. He looked about at the beautiful grounds, and the pond which (by chance) was temporary home to two magnificent Rufescent Swan and their signets. And although he occasionally rued the simpler and less-stressful existence of his 'boy-slave' days, he also realized that back then, he'd never have the luxury of merely pausing to take in his surroundings without actual permission.

Abu sighed as he mused, "Now it's my perceived responsibility to my fellow slaves which curtails my pausing." He did notice several attendant slaves not pausing at all, apparently missing the beauty around them, but instead immediately started removing the new slaves from their cages. They had been awaiting their instillation into their permanent quarters in one of the new wings of this facility. They and the attendant slave (or sometimes more than one) of the wing would be given permission to mingle with each other on occasion and even sleep together. (When not in a client's bed). They would even be displayed together. Abu was hoping that these new boys, recently shipped in those same transport cages from the modification labs of BoyToys, Inc. nearly a continent away, would find a measure of contentment, if not happiness. Now he'd have to get them over the shock of living with not only just their recent enslavement, but also with their modifications. He was hoping that the concomitant modifications of their cognitive, emotive, and psychological structures, would significantly aid in this process.

As Abu turned to give new orders he suddenly realized that it had been his very orders relayed from the resorts communication system that had had those very attendants so dutiful in their activities. He'd have to think on that.

First taken out of his SafeSecure Transport Boy Cage* was an amazingly appealing apparition of fur and boy, who stood (in a strange slightly tilted posture) no more than 5 feet [1.50 m] tall. His body was largely covered with a short fur reminiscent of the old earth Capuchin. The back bottom two thirds of his body, including his constantly swishing prehensile tail, were a deep dark brown merging with the darker buff tan on the front of his legs, surrounding his genital area (almost as a spotlight to lure one's attention, and his stomach area. The upper portion, starting with his upper chest, including most of the head, was a beautiful light tan. A small brown spot of fur was also seen as sort of a cap on the top of his head with a small trail descending down his back to merge with the fur on his lower body. The naked middle portion of his more human looking face of darkened hue, merged with the head in a very pleasing esthetic.
[* This was a specially equipped environment so engineered to keep its occupant safe and secure no matter how long or to where the journey. Frequently docked to an additional reservoir system when needed. See the story: SafeSecure Transport Boy Cages, to get more details on this method of shipping you precious and expensive slaveboys]

Abu's perspective

Although the boy's greatly modified body was quite startling, I could still see a boy under that covering of fur, even though many of his human boy attributes were subtly changed including his slightly protruding muzzle and face.

But what now attracted my attention was the markedly contrastingly colored black genitals with his noticeably protruding stiff 3 inch [7½ cm] penis. Which the monkeyboy was now (unfortunately for him) frantically masturbating. I wondered for a brief second about the boy's apparently changed sense of modesty to be doing that right out in the open. But my thoughts were suddenly wrenched away as the boy gave out a sudden high-pitched yelp, and fell to the ground.

I pulled the boy to his (slightly changed) fur covered feet, and addressed the now remorseful boy, wiping away his tears with his fur covered hands.

"Are you OK now?"

He obviously had been given quite a shock, not electric, but delivered by kind of miniature force-field to his nervous system by a mechanism located in his slave collar. And not the least dangerous but nonetheless painful. He'd been punished for a serious breach of his slave protocols. Never to touch his own genitals without permission. They now belonged to whomever was using him for sex. (I panned on coaxing a significant relaxation of these stringencies in the very near future. I needed to show that they were not only unnecessary, but counterproductive).

A very nervous boy moaned out a halting: "Yes master. Sorry master. But I couldn't help it. (A short pause and he added). This slave accepts his punishment." (A pro forma reply from his recently memorized protocols).

I noted the common 'I couldn't help it' excuse of the newly enslaved. But in his case, having been in that confining cage for at least four days, I suspected that he was ultra horny. I certainly knew that they deliberately adjusted, to a maximum extent, a slave's libido, with most modified boys. A byproduct of his brain rewiring, and other physical changes. I also knew he needed to be punished. With his necessary slave conditioning, he would be better served psychologically.

I did so immediately. "Boy, you are to have your hands placed in punishment mitts for the next day." (I so informed both his nominal over-all master and the attendant). Those tightly restricting mitts would engender quite a shock if his hands ever came near his genitals, but allowed the tips of his fingers to protrude so he could, with difficulty, work with his hands.

The boy seemed immediately relieved. I was not sure if it was the immediacy of his punishment, or its relatively clemency. I understood that with his conditioning as a slave he did in fact 'need' to be punished. It would actually allow him to 'feel better'. I gave his tailed posterior a good swat with my hand. I suspect that with its short light brown and tan fur, it hurt barely at all.

The monkeyboy's tail shot up into the air. His tears stopped and he exclaimed: "It keeps doing that!" A curious response to the unanticipated swat.

He was soon smiling, I would assume. His strange slightly protruding muzzle and mouth configuration, and expressive lips, had me guessing. I also suspected that it would also get a lot of use pleasuring our guests' penises. And that long tongue which at times I could see licking his heavy lips would certainly have its uses. I was also happy to see a boy with nary a particle of the anxiety nor the despondency which one would have normally associated of a newly enslaved individual. Of his own modifications, he seemed curious rather than dismayed.

As the boy moved about, using the full extension of his leash attached to his slave collar and held in the hand of his totally naked slave attendant, I could not believe how cute they had made his mostly furred body. So obviously still a boy, but with recognizable monkey parts, whose genes were obtained (as I learned later) from Capuchin monkeys, previously imported from earth over a hundred years ago. The only areas without fur were the area around his large black eyes, and mouth and widened nose which now held prominent position immediately above. His face was (unlike the Capuchin) darkly hued, but not black. The area around his very black hued and still small genitals were likewise unfurred. Their display quite prominent, despite the slightly different alignment of his legs, more like that of the monkey. And when he lifted his tail, I could see the radiating folds of the quite black bud of his anal opening. An opening which would most certainly get a lot of use. I only hoped that the boy had been well trained in the use of the cleaning equipment in the slaveboy bathing room.

His fur covered hands, arms, legs and feet were more reminiscent of that very same Capuchin, and his now darkened areolae stood out on his mostly fur covered chest. I couldn't help scrutinizing every portion of his body; I'd never seen such a creature except in a 360-holo. I suspected they were one of the more expensive creatures now to inhabit this resort. I wondered how much they would be charging for his use as a sex-slave.

The monkeyboy was now looking all over, the incident seemingly forgotten. His attention back and forth, at times on the naked slave holding his attached leash. It was fitted to a virtual ring on his slave collar, only there when the end of the leash came close enough to attach.

I was gratified that the boy seemed not to be in shock with his new situation. (I sure had been for a good while when I was first brought here). But this boy had been conditioned to accept his slavery and role as a sex slave. This boy just seemed excited and immensely curious, and not at all self-conscious about his naked body, though I suppose it was covered with fur.

I was curious. "How old are you and how did you wind up a slave?"

"Master, wow. Big story." He seemed pleased to explain.

"I too am a slave, call me Sir,"

"Yes Sir. My Dad and brothers needed help. Lots of medical stuff I think. Well he heard about some places wanting boys and we got tested. My Dad said we needed to keep it sort of secret since it was about being sex slaves, and I knew regular people were not supposed to be made into slaves. My two oldest brothers refused but Mike and me, we said yes. To be tested. I was the only one who was found to be special. I had the right boy-jeans or something. And I volunteered. I knew it was for sex stuff and my Dad got a whole lot of money, enough to help our whole family, which they really needed. I was really scared at first but not anymore. I really liked my training and stuff. I sort of miss them, but this is all so exciting! I can't wait 'til I show my brothers my tail."

Said tail began to flip all around. The boy giggled.

Now I was curious about several things. An obvious Class Three Slave and not an Indenture. (I so assumed because of his modifications). But with his family visiting? It wasn't supposed to be legal. Nor was his apparent Class Three Slavery status.

"Monkeyboy, did they make you a Class Three Slave?"

"Yes master, I mean sir. My Dad said that someone hired a big fancy lawyer and we got dissipated."

I laughed. I assumed he meant a legal dispensation. It was rare but could be done under the right circumstances. And with a good lawyer. It took a lot of legal legerdemain, but with enough money into the right hands, it could be done. I upped my estimation of just how valuable this monkeyboy was.

"You must be quite valuable." The monkeyboy seemed to beam. "You mentioned your Dad and brothers visiting?" (He never mentioned a mother so I didn't inquire).

"Yes sir. My Dad sort of negated something or other. But they can visit one day a year."

I again laughed. Negotiated probably. I was needed elsewhere so as much as I wanted to continue, I decided to let them go. The small monkeyboy turned sideways and whipped his long prehensile tail around. And giggled.

"Monkeyboy." (The boy stopped and stood alert. He'd been well conditioned and trained).

"Yes master. I mean sir," The monkeyboy replied, struggling to keep a giggle out of his response.

"Walk around a bit with the attendant, and make sure you have him look at the beautiful swans over there with you. Then he will take you to your room. I believe you will be pleased."

The slave boy, holding his leash had also captured the monkeyboy's attention and the monkeyboy asked permission to inquire: "Master, I mean sir, do all the slaves stay naked here?"

The monkeyboy's attention kept gravitating back to the teen's so obvious erection and scrotum on such prominent display. It was not sporting a chastity device.

"Yes boy."

"But how do they stay warm when it's cold? I got my fur!" The monkeyboy seemed apparently proud of his new makeover.

I laughed. "Just like they gave you fur, they changed him so he could be warm even naked."

That slaveboy attendant, I later learned, had been very recently modified himself and had become a voluntary Class Two Slave as soon as he'd turned 16, when he was assured of his being bought by this resort. He too was almost glowing with happiness at his new assignment to the Menagerie as an attendant. I suspected that he would soon find a liaison with another slaveboy.

The monkeyboy pulled on his leash and continued: "Sir, how come he has to wear that thing on his face?"

The slave attendant had on a full lower face muzzle, and I suspected it overlay a mouth gag. I'd become so accustomed to this kind of thing I'd totally ignored it. But it was quite startling to the young monkeyboy.

"He's a slave, and he too must obey. He'd probably spoken out of turn and is being punished."

I turned to the other boy to whom, I confess, I had given little attention. "That so boy?"

He nodded yes.

"For how long?"

The boy held up two fingers. I inquired: "Two days?" Another nod. "It causing you any problems boy?"

He shook his head no.

Back in my day, the interior mouth gags had been a bit more punishing, holding a boy's mouth at its widest extension. I suspected that since this boy was so new, the person in charge of him had been lenient.

I had one last question: "By the way, how old are you?" I inquired of the monkey boy.

"Sir, I'm 14. I was the shrimp of the family."

I supposed old enough to almost understand the seriousness of his fateful decision. I hoped his family, and especially his Dad, understood the sacrifice. But later, as the boy jotted away, seemingly so upbeat and excited about his future, I supposed perhaps not so much of a one.

"Go. I will see both of you in about an hour." I turned to the attendant. "You have your instructions and know what needs to be done. Make sure the monkeyboy here is completely familiarized with his enclosure, especially with the new rectal evacuation equipment. You may momentarily remove your muzzle to speak if you find it necessary."

The boy nodded and scampered off with the monkeyboy pulling on his leash toward the pond. I was quite pleased. I wondered why they still called the suites, enclosures. Remarkably posh and sybaritic, the label seriously anachronistic. These new suites provided luxury facilities for customers to view and perhaps utilize the special attributes of their occupants.

Now for the others. I noticed that two of the cages had already been opened and the new creations were standing awaiting my attention. I'd digressed more than I had intended.

I was momentarily stunned as I beheld the new chimeras. One an amazing amalgam of boy and what I assumed to be parts of a goat. The other still remained mostly boy but with one very obvious difference. The very obvious difference was the relatively mature genitals of a horse! And a swishing horsetail connected where you would usually expect. I looked at the heavily muzzled boy up and down and could not find any other obvious animal parts. Well, other than the small horse-like ears which poked up through his head of black, lustrous, fur-like hair which fell in a sort of mane down the boy's neck. He seemed to already to have remarkable control of both tail and ears, as the first kept swishing about and the latter cupped towards me as I approached.

From my virtual com screen, I read that this boy had been barely into pubescence when he'd been taken from one of the State Boy's Homes in the Dumara Province. I wondered then how they had circumvented the law in order to have him so radically modified, then I read further and noted that he was enslaved as a former resident of the Federated States in the Oligarchy of Quaraque. A very strange circumstance. The boy was enslaved as a Class Three (permanent) Slave. I wondered how the boy felt about that happenstance. It must have come as quite a shock.

The goatboy was straining at the end of his leash looking all about and doing a strange dance on what looked like actual hooves, below long pasterns. I suppose he was still getting used to his new balance. His small tail kept flapping up and down. I'd actually seen similar chimers is the resort's Faun Compound, well across the area from here and near the Flaming Cliffs. This new slaveboy seemed subtly different from the fauns kept in that compound but I would investigate later. I did notice that he seemed more boy than goat, especially with his genital equipment and though the legs were mostly goat, he had a relatively straight up carriage. I did not now have the time. I was more curious about the horseboy.

I addressed the slave attendant, a small boy with hair flaming as red as those aforementioned cliffs, perhaps more auburn than red. And with an engaging smile. He too was totally naked except for his collar, and leather sandals. He bowed his head and inquired: "Sir, if it please you I will attend."

Strange wording but I suppose he'd been so coached both on his expected behavior and how to address a fellow (clothed) salve.

"Boy, how old are you, and where had you worked?" I was always trying to know the names and situations of the slaves that worked servicing the guests.

"Sir, they call me Randy, I suppose because I am, and I had worked in the Little Boy Prison Dungeons for the past several years. I think I'm now 14 but not sure. I was 10 when I was made a slaveboy."

He seemed not at all disturbed that he was now a sex-slave, and his time in that facility had to have been demanding if not onerous.

"Are you happy here?" I asked more in order to reassure the horseboy next to him.

"Absolutely sir. I really liked the dungeons; I got sexed so much on all the neat bondage stuff there, but I'm now especially excited with my new assignment. I'm not used to all this running around. I just hope I still get sexed enough."

Must have been stabilized as a ten-year-old. His small whitish, tightly circumcised penis jutted rigidly forward its full 2½ inches [6½ cm], and was actually bobbing up and down. I suspect he was right. During his modification (probably something to help withstand his years of bondage in the Little Boy Prison), they must have added a lot of 'randy' into the mix.

His gaze roamed, as did my own, but kept coming back to the relatively huge hanging scrotum, sheath, and hanging penis on the dark brown horseboy next to him. I wondered just how they get that monster to erect on such a small boy body. I would look that up later. Right now, it was only partially engorged and first jutting out in front but then arched downward, to swung between the boy's legs, reaching well below his knees. I noticed the huge sheath was attached to the boy's body – and now that I really looked, the area was slightly widened front to back – starting from just in front of his rectum (I assumed) and stopped partway toward his cute innie of a belly button.

The color of the boy's skin was a mellow dark brown. The entire genital package, including the penis with its characteristic middle bulge and flaring head was a deeper chocolate brown. Amazingly alluring. Somehow, they managed to incorporate both boy and genitals into a pleasing whole. Though the penile member was healthily glabrous, the sheath and scrotum, with two very large testicles hanging a bit unevenly below nearly to the boy's knees, were covered with a dark and very velvety fur. I could not stop my hand from fondling their entre heft, causing a deep centered moan from the boy, muffled by a rather generously sized muzzle with quite wide straps keeping it tightly attached to the bottom half of the boy's face. I thought it a bit extreme for such a small boy. The boy, I was glad to note, made no attempt to move away from my intimate touch. Well-conditioned and trained. At the touch, his penis started to lift as it extended even further. I stopped. I did not want the thing sticking outward.

"Boy," I addressed the slave attendant. "I will take the leash for the horseboy here, and you take the goatboy to his enclosure." It was the one next to that of the monkeyboy in the new Chimera Wing. I made sure that he knew what to do. I also kept tabs with my own com.

The horseboy watched as the goatboy followed, sort of prancing on those hooves. The horseboy shook as I reached behind to undo his seemingly oversized muzzle. I wanted to have a conversation, and help alleviate the boy's obvious fears. As much as I could. He was still shaking and it was not cold. And I was certain that his modifications included something to help him weather the cold.

I finally got all three straps undone. I realized that the boy himself could have actually undone them himself. Merely the usual (anachronistic) buckles. I suppose the monitors would know if he removed it, and he did have his recent slave protocols grilled into hm. Whatever ese they do, they make absolutely certain that knew we were slaves.

The horseboy seemed relieved as he worked his mouth. That gag had been as oversized as the muzzle. I was not happy, but I had many other more important battles to fight.

"I'm a slave like you, but I'm in charge. You will address me as sir. Do you have a name?"

The boy looked at me with frightened eyes. "I assure you, you have permission to speak. That muzzle I suspect was a punishment for speaking without permission."

He nodded.

"I asked a question horseboy. I want an answer. You will not be punished."

The frightened boy replied simply: "Bantu, master."

"Bantu, (I used the boy's name in an effort to have him more reassured), I am also a slave." I touched my own substantial slave collar. You should address me as sir. I will be getting you settled in here. I think you will be quite surprised at the accommodations you will find. A nice bed and even a multi-com you will be allowed to use on occasion."

The multi-com use was severely limited but was available if the horseboy merited it.

He kept wanting to hold onto his heavy penis and stopped short every time. He'd obviously been trained not to touch himself without permission, but I suspect he was quite aroused. And such a large appendage must never allow itself to be disregarded for very long if ever.

He started to cry a bit. "Sir. Please can you help me sir? I really wasn't supposed to be a forever slave."

"Sorry Bantu, but I can do nothing about that. But what I can do is help you not only fit in here, but I believe that you can even eventually enjoy it here."

He wiped his tears. "Sir, I didn't think so. But I'm always getting flammed."

I was not conversant with that expression but in context, it's meaning was clear. I took a chance: "Boy, let's pretend for a moment, that you are just a normal boy, back home. What would be your biggest wish?"

The horseboy actually made a brief smile. "To be normal." He smiled even bigger. I suspect this was a big thing with him. "I never really was a normal boy. And I never could get a really best friend. OK, my wish would be for a very best friend."

But the boy's face seemed to crumble. "But I know that I can never find one."

I was relieved at least. This perhaps I help with.

"Horseboy. You will be called horseboy most of the time."

(Or not, if I can get a few more things changed).

"I know. It's sort of exciting in a way. But wow, did it have to be so big? It's always getting in the way. And I'm forever horny. I never knew what horny was before. Not really. Not like this."

I got sidetracked. "Did they let it get stiff?"

The boy's eyes seemed to brighten. "Wow yes, and can it really gush out stuff a whole lot! It feels wonderful. But I'm only allowed to do it when they say I can."

"Remember horseboy, you must address me as sir." I swatted his butt and the tail swished in front of my hand.

The boy suddenly got frightened. "Sir, I'm sorry sir. I didn't mean to do that. You can swat me again."

I did.

The boy brightened up again. "Sir, I have trouble trying to figure it out. Before I was always feeling guilty touching myself. I mean my penis when I wanted to get that feeling. But now I just don't really feel that way. In fact, all this sex stuff is just really exciting. I don't understand."

They obviously reconstructed a few of his 'understandings' about things.

"You don't want to feel guilty, do you?" I asked.

"No sir, the sex feeling is sure great. I just wish I could do it more. But I promise to obey. I know now I'm a slave and hafta. That's another thing. Part of being a slave makes me sad since I can't be a free boy any more. But being a slave even makes me feel kind of sexed up too. I don't understand about that either."

I sure did. I tried to explain. "Horseboy, just like they changed your body, they also changed some of how you thought about things. (Close enough to the truth). You will be a slave for your entire life and they wanted you to like being a slave. I guess it actually makes you feel good and feel sexy too."

"Yes sir."

"And the thing about not feeling guilty. I guarantee you, you will be getting a lot of sex. You are a very special sex slave. (And very expensive). And I'm sure you don't need to worry about feeling guilty about it. They made you understand that sex is normal and good for people. And you should never feel guilty about it."

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir. I just wish…"

"What do you wish?"

A slight pause, then he replied quietly: "I really wish I could find a best friend." Quite a lot of emotion there.

"That is one thing I think I can probable assure you about. There are a lot of other boys here who wish the same thing. And we do allow you to be together when you are not with a client."

The boy brightened a bit. "Really? I mean really sir?"

"Look boy, there is a slaveboy coming back this way. He will take you to your room and get you settled. OK?"

"Yes, sir. And damn that thing keeps trying to trip me up."

That 'thing' stretched down between the horseboy's legs to just beyond his knees. I was thinking strange thoughts as the cute dark brown boy moved away in a sort of waddle forced by his huge penis swinging below. I wondered how it would look fully engorged.

Those genitals were so disproportionate to his small body. His experienced overwhelming libido would also be in commensurate disproportion. Fortunately, for the boy, his predispositions for man-boy sex had likewise been 'oversized'.

And I wondered how it was even possible. It would take a lot of blood flow. And I had never before seen such an ethnically black boy before either.

Five more cages. I knew that they included two sets of twins.

The first attendant returned assuring me that the monkeyboy was properly settled. "Sir, I had to stop him from jumping up and down on the bed. It's one of those force-field ones."

I was happy to hear that there was a real boy under all that fur.

We quickly released the next pair. They were identical twins. And still were. But I boggled at the sight even though I knew what to expect. The two boys, originally sort of merely average, were now far from it. My com said 16-year-olds. Both voluntary Class Two Slaves. They had originally opted for a twelve-year Indenture instead of a hefty prison sentence. They had been convicted of actually accomplishing every boy's dream. They burned down their school. They claimed it was an accident but they couldn't convince an angry jury. Facing a baleful future, and seeing an opportunity to be sex-slaves at this resort, being also assured to be allowed to stay together, they opted for full Class Two Slavery. They had no real education having despised school and frequently went truant, refusing to com-in. Their futures looked bleak especially considering they had merely average looks and were relatively old to be purchased by the usual boy brothel. But they had lucked out by having the right DNA.

They were looking about with full curiosity of typical young teens. And typical cats! Their faces and heads were almost totally reformed as some kind of black panther. The panther motif continued down their young lithe bodies through their arms and legs, including all four appendages and in paw-like feet and hands. The fur also extended over most of their upright bodies being a bit scarce down their dark-skinned fronts. Otherwise, even their healthy-looking teen genitals, were human in form. Long black prehensile tails swished back and forth behind. Fortunately, when one opened his mouth to speak, I noted an absence of fangs. Good for the clients. I wondered how it would feel like to have one's penis sucked into a (seeming) cat's mouth.

The one boy sort of mouthed a very loud 'Meow." I thought they were supposed to be able to speak. I touched a spot on my virtual com to make sure. Both could speak almost normally.

The other jabbed his elbow into his twin's side. But didn't speak.

That was the one who approached, knelt with difficulty with the strange form of his animal-like legs and spoke: "Sir, permission for this slave to speak." The other boy soon knelt next to him.

"Yes?"

"Sir, I apologize for my brother's breach of protocol. I will accept my punishment."

I was momentarily puzzled. "Your brother was the one who broke his slave protocols."

They looked at each other and the first boy explained.

"Our trainer was too smart for us. When one fu… ah, messed up, the other was punished. It was almost unfair. I mean fair to get punished but they knew that they had us. We hated when the other got punished. We aren't complete Dumbat Dwicks'.

I was unfamiliar with the modern jargon but understood the message.

"I will do things a bit differently since you are past your initial training period. You will both be punished when one is guilty."

I wanted to be assured that these former delinquents were adequately disciplined. (Though I almost laughed at the antic).

"Since the breach was minor only one swat with a belt." I told the attendant slave to quickly get the punishment tawse which fortunately had had infrequent use.

I was still curious about their choice of Class Two Slavery.

"Stand and feel free took about but stay where you are. I have a few questions and I might be persuaded to answer some of yours."

Two "Yes sirs."

When they stood, I could see their obvious sexual excitement standing outward and slightly upward. And wow, they were certainly well endowed for teens. About 7 inches [18 cm] of endowment along with commensurately sized testicles hanging pendulously. Their color was a slightly darker hue than their otherwise dark skin and totally human-boy-like. Altogether a pleasing arrangement. They seemed to have a sort of Latin ethnicity. But with fur instead of hair on most of their bodies, and animal seeming faces, I could not be sure. But the skin tone was right. Of course, that could all have been changed during modification.

The second boy then asked permission to speak.

"Sorry sir, I just reacted. I thought it was funny. But sir, is everyone always naked around here?" He noted a couple attendant slaves – naked ones – starting to release the last modified pair of slaves from their transport cages.

"Simply put catboy, yes. This is a brothel after all, even if on the quite upscale end of that spectrum. You two will be put on regular display as I'm sure you've been told. You will also, I assume, be regularly engaged in sex with any guest who would choose to use you. I suspect that it would frequently be the both of you. And you're both free for now to speak."

The other boy seemed to grimace. Sir, I know I'm now a slave, but it seems icky to do sex stuff with my brother. But on another dude, that's great. We both like a lot of sex stuff." They looked at each other and smiled, I think. Sure glad they didn't have fangs.

"You will do as ordered. You will have no choice."

The other boy then inquired. "On display, as in a zoo?"

"Not quite, but the idea is nearly the same. But a very posh zoo as you will soon see."

The second boy replied: "Well, when that one guy, the one who came to where we were imprisoned awaiting our sale – we'd opted for Indenture instead of real prison – said what was going to happen and all and we knew all this. Even the cat stuff. We thought it would be neat. That's a big part of why we chose Class Two Slavery. But Daemons of Daneb, this slave stuff, we never thought would be so, well so serious-like."

The other added: "But the sex part, wow, that's been amazing. And everything else, really exciting."

I soon had an attendant take them to their enclosure. After I took the tawse from him and gave both boys a swat on their cat-like (and mostly fur covered) derrieres with most of the strength in my arm. Their tails too went straight upwards at the strikes. They would not soon forget it. They both howled satisfactorily.

I turned to note that one last attendant stood patiently with the leashes attached to two identical boys, if they could still be called that. But unlike the cats, these seemed forced to walk on all fours. Their conversions had been quite extreme. I hoped that they could still speak. And be understood. I could see that their transport cage had very different configurations to accommodate their more animal-like bodies. Before me stood two very handsome dog-like beings. Modified just enough so that they were apparently forced to walk on all fours, but still boy enough so that they were definitely not dogs. But with floppy ears, slightly elongated muzzles, and wagging tails. And largely fur covered.

As I approached both made laborious attempt to stand, and were successful.

"Boys, if it is easier, please remain on all fours."

They at least understood and returned to that method of ambulation. They were remarkable. I would have thought that such a chimeric mixture would be too weird, but the bio-engineers made the boys look alluring. They were certainly more boy-like than animal like, even to the extent of their genital arrangement.

"Boys, can you still speak." I'd not read that in their files which I admit I only skimmed, not anticipating this eventuality.

One answered. "Yes master, but with difficulty."

The other continued. "But the doc guys assured us that we'd get better at it as our path-something got more something, something. I never quite understood all their jargon."

The other started to speak but the other actually nipped his foreleg.

"Boys, you are for now free to speak, and ask questions. And please notice my own slave collar. I too am a slave just like you. You will address me as sir."

They both chuckled. At least that was I thought that noise was. One replied: "Not just like you."

The other boy laughed.

Then one boy hesitated a moment but finally asked: "Master, ah… I mean sir, they promised we'd be allowed to stay together, and ah… not be forced to have sex with one another."

I was surprised. I was in fact all the way to incredulous. I never saw that in their files. That I would have remembered. I inquired.

"Com inquiry."

Only seconds later I heard the reply: "Inquiry allowed."

"These two boys, (I repeated their slave designations). "Are there any specific pre-arrangements concerning sexual congress?"

"As per prior arrangement, they will not be forced into acts of brother to brother copulation. Further explanation requires at least level two authorization."

"Com, I have level five, note my authorization code and reply in secure mode. Explain under what circumstances this assurance was given."

There was a short pause, and I heard, in my internal com only: "Under recent change in the slave law, in the following Provinces and Countries, (a long list was mentioned), Class Two Slaves are now allowed to negotiate several terms of their enslavement. Under code 5, clause b, specific restrictions can be asked for as to permit the enslaved individual not be forced into familial copulation congress."

I was delighted. I wondered if such an accommodation was, or could still be negotiated, for the catboys. I would find out later.

"Boys, I'm running late. Why did you agree to Class Two Enslavement?"

They looked at each other and one replied: "Our protocols demand we answer truthfully. We needed a lawyer and the only competent ones were too expensive. We had been molested by our Dad and Uncles for several years. I for one must admit it was not entirely forced especially after we became accustomed to it. But as we got sort of too old, they had their eyes on our younger brothers. They were not boy-boy orientated, and would have suffered badly. But our Dad was a high placed government official. We needed a really good lawyer and a good investigator and they were too expensive."

The other boy continued: "I remembered when 16, a boy could opt for Class Two Slavery. We were only a year away. After some multi-com inquiry, we found a law firm who would accept our contract for Class Two Slavery in exchange for getting our brothers away from my Dad and Uncles. They hired a couple investigators not on my Dad's payroll. They were successful. And here we are."

The first boy butt in: "And when we discovered that we could qualify for modification, and be auctioned to a really good brothel. We were quite excited to get something good."

"The machinations of a profligate society." I mused. "And they called this 'good'. At least these two had some choice. (I'd never had one, having been kidnapped by some guy from a company called BoyAbductions, Lmt." I never did understand that Lmt. part unless it meant they limited their abductions to only boys).

I watched as the two dogboys were led away, their rapidly wagging tails witnessing their retreat. I never was able at that time to question them further. I wondered just how sanguine they were with their modification. They certainly seemed not at all anxious or dismayed. I suspected it was again due to the more modern methods of reformatting their cognitive function and strengthening some preexisting desires and needs, and weakening others.

I was also glad that their owners were allowing the boys to stay together. So much easier on them and our management of them.

The very last to emerge was the donkeyboy. The boy himself was a type typically seen but in aspect quite atypical. If one ignored the obvious, the foot and a half [50 cm] appendage swinging between his legs, and its attendant features, he was still a boy who would garner second looks. No discernably ethnicity but whatever his forebears, he got the best from each of them. His straight black hair probably his only plain feature. If one had to put a name to his ethnicity, perhaps Chinese or more so, Mongolian. But not strongly so.

There was a beautiful face with engaging smile on a well-proportioned boy body with a perfect amount of flesh and underlying muscle. A boy-lover's dream. A boy you would automatically want to handle and hug. The file said 13 years of age, but in form, more like a twelve-year-old. Skin, all of it on display, a golden tan. In contrast, as noted, a quite dark fur lined sheath emerging from between the boy's legs from which hung a large (but not monstrous) scrotal sac with its unevenly hanging testicles not quite half way to the boy's knees. The genital package, not as massive as that of the horseboy, but the slightly slenderer penis was easily as long. The color, although even throughout the organ including the penis, was a more solid very dark brown, merging on black. And like the Bantu boy, it seemed to hang in a semi-engorged state.

The file said his name was Kai Yhaba, from one of the little know, but forever feuding states in the Oligarchy of Quaraque. A typical refugee, displaced from family and country. Fortunately, according to the file, he has at least adequate understanding of our language. He, unlike all the others to emerge, not at all restrained in demeaner or actions. I did not engage with Kai as I was running late and needed to be elsewhere. As the boy Kai walked away, I did notice a quite cute and dimpled buttocks. And swishing tail. I forgot to see if he had the ears of a donkey but I didn't notice any; looking too intently at that cute butt, and tail. But my memory failed me. I rechecked his file. Yes, donkey ears.

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