SUNDAY, APRIL 19, 2020.

I began this Journal thirteen days ago, Monday, April 6, four days before we were scheduled to leave for our Easter week trip, to record my first trip abroad and my first experience as a teacher/chaperone, thinking it would be useful as a reference when we returned and reported on the trip, and for future school excursions I anticipated supervising. When we returned home today I thought this would be my last entry, but I was mistaken. When the flight attendants asked Mrs. Phillips and me to hold our students back until the rest of the passengers had disembarked, I had thought nothing of it. Actually, it made sense. We were a large group, thirty including us two adults, and the last thing you want is twenty-eight fourteen and fifteen year old grade nine students running amuck through the airport terminal. Actually, our students would never run amuck, but when you are in your early teens no matter how sedately or maturely you move or act, adults still see you as running amuck.

That Mrs. Phillips managed to put a lid on that amount of teen energy for ten days is nothing short of amazing, and certainly not a job that everyone would take on. In fact that was one reason I was with the class. Nobody else was willing to step up to the plate and help chaperone the class on their Easter week trip to Italy. I didn't have the common sense others had. Besides, I was an Intern and aspiring teacher and a hopeful future employee of Grasmere School Division #55. We were slightly below the recommended ratio of 12:1 but Mrs. Phillips is an experienced and respected educator who has been in charge of educational field trips before I was born.

What did surprise me when we disembarked was that instead of being connected by a passageway to the terminal, we descended a rollup stairway to the tarmac, and that there we were met by a medical team in face masks and a team of soldiers with plastic face guards. We were loaded into two army trucks, Mrs. Phillips and the girls in one and me and the boys in the other. We were taken to some sort of military compound surrounded by a security fence, either a recently abandoned facility, or one vacated for our use. There the boys and I were taken to an H-shaped barracks. One arm of the H consisted of two rows of narrow single beds, eight on the outer side and seven on the inner, the seventh partitioned off with a shoulder high curtain and taking up the space of two single beds and having a small desk and chair. At the foot of each bed was a rack for our suitcases, which had been retrieved for us, and above each bed was a narrow shelf where we could put small personal items like eyeglasses or an alarm clock or whatever. The other arm of the H consisted of communal showers with seven shower heads on the south branch, and a washroom on the north consisting of five stalls, six urinals, and a row of washbasins. A short corridor connected the two arms.

Assuming the curtained off bed for myself, I let the students select the rest of the beds on their own. Anyone working with youth knows that Junior and Senior High students are particularly cliquey Lincoln Falls Junior High was no exception, so it came as no surprise that the students immediately separated into the same groups they normally formed in the classroom. Most of the class has been together since grade seven so friendships have developed over the past two years and eight months. At the top of the school's social ladder in Room 9G was Ethan Forsythe, class representative on the student council. He was a member of the clique the teaching staff called the "populars", rich (top of the line clothes and technology), attractive (very in Ethan's case), well-known, confident, and known to party. His usual companions were the student reps from the other classrooms, the Student Council executive, and leaders of the school's various clubs. He chose the bed just above the middle of the row of eight on the right near the connecting hall to the washrooms/showers wing.

Taking the northernmost two beds on the same side were two close friends, two jocks, Michael Conolly, point guard and team captain on the basketball team, and Chase Bronson, fullback on the football team. Between them and Ethan was Christian Fletcher. Christian was a member of a relatively new clique dubbed by the teachers as the "good-ats". Well-rounded, well-liked by their peers, ambitious, well-grounded, and overachieving, good-ats were good at academics, sports and extracurricular activities, though not at the top of any one, and were among the first to participate in volunteer activities. Liked by teachers, they were often seen as teachers' pets. Christian was friends with Ethan, pairing with him on most school activities, and was admired by the Jocks.

Taking the four beds opposite the four of them on the inner side of the wing were first of all Ryan Rozenberg and James Price, two students who were dubbed "normals" by teachers , students of average ability who tended to blend in with the rest of the student body and become invisible to staff and other students alike. They formed the largest group in the school, good students, quiet and unobtrusive. Third down in the row was Angelo Del Rosario, a Filipino and the "Brain" in Room 9G, an academic student with top grades. Only fourteen, he was already aiming for a top-tiered college, and already had high academic anxiety about not being at the top of the class and a fear of disappointing and upsetting his parents, the result of both his high self-expectations and his culture. Like most of those in his clique he was taking additional classes for credit, in Angelo's case Advanced Computer Sciences and Grade 10 High School Physics. He tended to chum with Christian and Ethan.

Beside him and next to the connecting hallway was Johnathan Boswell, a student teachers called a "Floater." Unlike the other students who clustered together in visible groups, Floaters were loners. They were so named because they floated between groups, the jocks and the academics, and the fine arts and fringe groups, depending on what was happening at the time. Shy, polite, and friendly, they got along with most other students, sometimes even the stoners and loners, so they had many friends, and they got decent grades and got along with teachers so they were rated highly by students and teachers alike. That Jonathan had chosen a bed in the middle of the barracks where he had contact with everyone, everyone having to go down the connecting corridor to the washrooms, was no surprise.

Continuing on the inner side of the arm and next to the corridor on the south was Tyrone Jackson, a black trombone player who associated mainly with other band students and of course with other black students. Beside him was Noah Watson, who was a dancer in the Lincoln Community Ballet Society and a member of the Lincoln Junior High Dance Club. A quiet and shy boy, he was more popular with the girls than the boys in Room 9G and hung out mostly with the dance students in other classrooms. His bed was next to mine. Both Tyrone and Noah were members of the fine arts clique, which was ranked below the good-ats and before the brains. They wore earrings and dressed more creatively, fancying sweaters and scarves, silk shirts with flaring sleeves, and slacks, white or brightly coloured, rather than the traditional ripped blue jeans.

On the outer side of the wing opposite the two art students and myself were four students who were considered to be at the bottom of the social pecking order. These were kids who rejected the mainstream, were of low self-esteem, had smaller friend groups, and were more influenced by current events, pop culture, and social media than were the other students. First was Andre Lefebvre, a dark-eyed, dark-haired student originally from Quebec and a later member of the class, having joined them last September. Andre was a member of the anime/magna peer group, one of the newest cliques in school that has replaced the computer geek crowd that was around when I was a student. Andre was an expert when it came to Japanese pop culture including boy bands, graphic novels, animation and graphic arts, and spent more time on the internet and chatting online than with people in the flesh. When he wasn't sitting in front of a computer he hung out with a few others in the school with a similar interest, and in Room 9G with Tyrone and Noah.

Taking the bed beside him was Nathanial Hawthorne. Nathanial was a quiet, shy, effeminate boy, slight in stature, and the opposite of Andre, a bleached blond with gorgeous shoulder-long hair and blue eyes. His classmates referred to him as an emo, highly sensitive and emotional and like Noah he was more comfortable with the girls in the class than the boys. In the third bed was Logan Mallory. Logan was a goth, one of those boys who dressed all in black, dyed his shoulder-long hair a deep purple, wore black lipstick and eyeshadow, painted his nails black and had a lip ring and tongue stud. He was even quieter and withdrawn than Nathanial except when it came to his passions, Gothic music and the pursuit of fineries in anything dark. Logan hung out with others in the school with like interests, some whom I was told were also into self-harm and cutting though there was no evidence Logan engaged in such practices. He had no friends in Room 9G that I was aware of. He and Nathanial were just above Andre in the pecking order.

In the bottom clique and in the last bed across from me was Tyler Rex. Tyler was a loner. Of all the boys, Tyler, who preferred to be called T. Rex, was the most withdrawn. He was clearly uncomfortable with all students, male and female, and they were just as uncomfortable with him with the result they were standoffish. He had no friends at school nor anywhere else that I was aware of and what interests he had nobody knew.

There were two groups attending Lincoln Junior High that were not represented in Room 9G. One was the clique involved in drugs, users or pushers, the druggies, stoners, or potheads. They were ranked by their peers just above the "emo" and "goth" students. They were seen as cool and laidback and they got along with most of the other groups. In that they brought drugs to parties frequented by the upper cliques, they were popular but ranked at the bottom of the upper groups below the "normals". There were a few in the school but they played it low-key as the school had zero tolerance when it came to drugs and expelled anyone dealing or using.

The second group, students with mental challenges, wasn't a clique but formed a distinct and separate entity. There just happened to be none in Room 9G. A twelfth clique that cut across the other eleven, the non-white students who were automatically members of a racial or an ethnic community which took precedence so they could never be completely in another clique like white students could, were represented in Room 9G by Tyrone and Angelo.

Half an hour later we were marched, literally, over to the mess hall in the center of the compound and were told what was going on. Apparently there was an emergence of a major virus, extremely contagious, fatal, and with an exceptionally long incubation period. It was believed to have been caused by an outbreak of rats in the catacombs of Rome, the result of excessive tourist garbage due to a strike by garbage collectors. Everyone who had visited the catacombs over the past two weeks was being quarantined until it was certain they were not infected and hopefully a cure found, which would be a minimum of two weeks and more likely six weeks. Our class was one out of hundreds who had toured the catacombs Easter week.

Quarantine they explained, meant we would be restricted to our barracks except for supervised trips three times a day to the mess hall, each barrack being assigned a different table and on a strict schedule so no two groups being quarantined would ever meet or share a space. Concerned about liability and lawsuits and the spread of misinformation, our cell phones, smartphones, and laptops were being confiscated for the time being. Being quarantined was not a big deal for the students to my surprise, but being deprived of their technology was met with an uproar, restrained only by the presence of military personnel who were brooking no nonsense.

TUESDAY, APRIL 21.

The boys' anger over being confined and over the unfairness of having been in the wrong place at the wrong time, their annoyance at being cut off from the rest of the world, particularly parents and girlfriends, and especially over the seizure of their technology, and their fear regarding their health continued to build the rest of Sunday, yesterday and today. Then Ethan pointed out the bright side of the situation: that their ten-day Easter holiday had suddenly become a much longer holiday, possibly a six week one, which meant no school and no homework, no parental supervision or rules, and no chores. Running with that idea, Christian added that meant there was no need for a bedtime curfew, nobody to restrict their junk food snacks and sodas, and no need to watch their behaviour with no girls around. Seeing their faces brighten with those conclusions, knowing the stress they were feeling, and seeing the injustice of it not even being their fault, I chose not to disagree and disappoint them.

SUNDAY, APRIL 26.

We have been in quarantine for seven days. My decision not to disappoint them regarding the conclusions of Ethan and Christian and set down a bunch of rules, which I know they all had expected me to do, was the right move. The infractions over the week have been minor, the occasional late night confab that became excessively loud or extended into the wee hours of the morning by one clique or another, the binges on junk food and sodas, and the increase of some raunchy language and off-color jokes, were nothing serious. And a positive spinoff was that they all appreciated my leniency and understanding unlike some of the older and less liked teachers they would not have dared mentioning otherwise. I was understanding and "happening" and our relationship was "bitchin'", which I was informed meant I was with it and cool using terms I was familiar with when I was their age. I admit I had been uncertain if I had made the right choice and the beginning of the week had been stressful.

Another positive spinoff, the boys largely followed subsequent rules which I discovered I had to lay down, like picking up their clothes and putting the dirty ones in the laundry basket and lining up with no shoving, swearing, pushing ahead of line, or acting like children when we went to the mess hall. Of course a lot of the rules they followed out of sheer habit and because I was the adult and in a position of authority, or because they were under the watchful eye of our military hosts.

As the days have passed I have noticed bonds growing between those of the same clique and even between boys from different cliques, and a growing tolerance for those at the bottom of the pecking order, a tolerance I had not seen in the school earlier. I am quite proud of "my boys" and of my capabilities and decision-making as a teacher.

SUNDAY, MAY 3.

We have all been worried about this virus thing and have been checking ourselves and watching each other for symptoms daily, and our anxiety has resulted in interrupted and sleepless nights. I had hoped that would lessen over time but it has not. I have to admit the heavy dosages of sugar and the unlimited sodas requiring frequent midnight trips to the urinals have not helped. The stress and anxiety has been wearing on everyone and continually increasing, resulting in a wearing down of that tolerance I had noticed earlier in our quarantine. Those at the top of the pecking order have begun to resent the presence of those below them and have begun to find fault with them and complain to me with the slightest provocation, and those at the bottom have begun to complain to me about the habits, smugness and attitude of those at the top of the hierarchy.

So throughout the week I have been fielding complaints about the jocks doing push-ups in the aisle between bunks and chinning themselves in the doorways while others are trying to concentrate or just nap, about Tyrone, Logan or Nathanial beating out rhythms on their mattresses or humming tunes too loudly, or Noah practicing ballet steps in the corridor between wings. As I've tried to establish rules as to when each could pursue his interests without disturbing the others, I've raised the ire of one group or the other who felt they were being discriminated against and the other group given special preference, and more and more frequently I've been questioned why we have any rules at all in that we had begun with none. I realize now the mistake of not enforcing a bedtime, or restricting the intake of soda and sugar snacks, or setting up other rules as I try now to establish some order. Every step of the way I am being resisted, or ignored. Each day my authority has been weakening. I am still seen as the adult in charge though, but I am growing weary of constantly dealing with petty complaints and squabbles.

Anyone reading this Journal will laugh, but my major decision as teacher in charge has been establishing a routine for morning showers. With only seven shower heads I had at first had seven boys shower and then the second group shower. The second group immediately complained the first group used all the hot water and took too long. So on the third day I reversed the order so the second group of seven showered first. Of course the second group immediately had the same complaint, and I am sure the first group purposefully wasted soap and took their time to prove their point. So I alternated them each day, the group who showered first showered second the next day. That resulted in everyone complaining. So I had all fourteen shower at once, two to a shower head with each boy choosing a partner to shower with. Of course all fourteen objected and complained the procedure was "faggoty" but the complaints of using up the soap and hot water has stopped. Dumb, but I congratulated myself on my success! Solomon look out!

One of the most prevalent of the complaints and one that is becoming more and more frequent has been of being checked out by one boy or another, with the accusation the boy had to be queer, as they strip for bed or dress in the morning, when they are taking a leak, or in the showers. Of course each boy making the complaint expected me to take action and put a stop to the behaviour, and of course each boy accused has hotly denied the accusation but had a complaint about another boy who was guilty, sometimes the same boy who had made the initial complaint. There have been multiple complaints about a couple boys in particular, those whose sexuality was questioned long before we were quarantined, effeminate boys like Noah and Nathanial. These complaints I have found impossible to resolve as there is no way to totally segregate the boys and that is eroding my authority.

As our second week draws to a close everyone is even more obsessed with his health and cleanliness than day one, with the result there is always someone in the bathroom or the showers resulting in a shortage of hot water, or soap, or clean towels, and a buildup of dirty towels laying around and not being put away in the assigned baskets, with accusations who the culprits are and counter-accusations about the cleanliness of the accusers. Along with these accusations has been a cloud of depression and boredom hanging over all of us. I have struggled with what can be done and I have a solution I will implement tomorrow.

SATURDAY, MAY 9.

Five days have passed since I introduced a schedule of classes to combat depression and boredom. My own training being teaching history, I taught the Grade Nine curriculum, supplementing my lessons with discussions on Italian history and our trip to Rome. I requested English textbooks and scribblers and provided what I felt were adequate lessons in reading and writing. I called upon Christian to provide exercises in mathematics, which he excelled in, Angelo to provide lessons in science and Filipino, and Andre to provide lessons in French.

Of course my efforts were met with opposition and reluctance, but the lessons did get their minds off their health and personal obsessions and provided them with some meaningful, productive work, and even they realized that and begrudgingly had to admit introducing classes was a help. Yes, they pumped Angelo and Andre for obscenities in their respective languages, but it did keep their interest so I turned a deaf ear. Of course I could do nothing to really reduce the stress and anxiety, and along with our irregular sleep habits and lack of physical activity, none of us, myself included, have been operating at our previous cognitive ability.

There have been more and more emotional outbursts, and not just from those I expected, like Andre with his French temper, Angelo with his anxiety and high expectations, Chase with his lack of patience, and Noah who was easily frustrated by everything, but from solid individuals who always kept their calm like Ethan or who were easy-going and laid back like Tyrone. There has been more than one boy who has broken down in tears when in counselling with me, and angry outbursts of cursing from half the boys whose language was normally controlled by the presence of teachers, parents, or girls (though I found Grade Nine girls to often be just as vulgar).

Speaking of girls, there was a lot of talk about them, about specific girls who were "built", those who were particularly hot, and those who supposedly put out, both in Room 9G and in the school. With my initial decision not to clamp down on off-colour language and jokes, knowing what it was like to be a teenage boy and their perception of vulgarity being a measure of their manliness, I found the boys' language becoming progressively worse. Having already introduced new rules and rescinded my decision not to enforce some old ones, their obscene language was one behaviour I deemed unimportant in comparison and so continued to ignore, still believing doing so gave me some credibility as being "with it."

Along with the talk about girls were frequent comments about being horny, a topic and a condition which were both to be expected. Also to be expected was the rumor that the cooks were loading the potatoes with saltpetre to dampen the sex drive of the boys, a rumor I had heard as a boy at Boy Scout Camp and I am sure everyone who has been at a camp of some sort has heard. I have to admit the potatoes did taste particularly salty, but then food prepared in bulk never tastes right. At first there was a boycott of mashed potatoes, but as erections continued to spring up, as they would with any group of rangy teenage boys, that rumor was soon discredited.

Along with the language came the accompanying teenage behaviour, the grasping of crotches, the scratching of nuts, and the flicking of the middle finger. There were the usual accusations and teasing regarding jerking off, the boasts of making out, the teasing and putdowns regarding virginity of one boy or another, and questions and insinuations regarding the masculinity and sexual orientation of still others. Their open talk and growing aggressiveness and their obliviousness of my presence is beginning to frighten me, and we have only reached the midpoint of our quarantine. It has been a hell of a week, especially finding enough activities to get us through four hours a day of schooling and enforcing the schedule, but it is giving meaning to each day and I hope is bringing the boys some relief in our long, boring days despite their continual bitching about it.

THURSDAY, MAY 21.

I noted in this Journal four days ago that after a week of struggle my attempts at establishing a routine and implementing a schedule of schooling collapsed. Monday the students had had enough. They talked to each other while I talked, they threw spitballs at the ceiling and at each other, they openly yawned and scratched their balls when I tried to make a key point, or they stared listlessly into space. Understandably my assistant teachers had it even worse and didn't even try to teach. For the past four days we have been at a standstill, engaged in meaningless activities, playing card games and hangman and accusing each other of having stinky feet and armpits. After days of compulsive washing of hands and showering and complaints about using up hot water, I had to enforce a prohibition on showering any time of day and restrict showers to our pre-breakfast showers only. In response the boys united and decided yesterday morning on no showering whatsoever.

I will have the last laugh on that one. Let's see how long they can hold out, fourteen sweaty boys confined to one building without showering. In the meantime fart jokes and burping contests have replaced parsing of sentences and spelling bees. Nobody cares any longer about their education nor their cleanliness, about their minds nor their bodies, and least of all their souls and morals. Moods are dark and morale is at a low and each day has blurred into the next and the minutes in an hour slowed to a snail's pace. Nobody trusts anybody else, not even those in the same clique or who used to be chums. I now spend every minute of every day counselling and breaking up fistfights. At least with boys there are no grudges, unlike girls. After bloodying a nose or blacking an eye they are best of friends teamed up against someone else.

SATURDAY, MAY 23.

Michael and Chase skipped down the aisle between bunks today arm in arm singing at the top of their lungs, "I don't go out with girls no more, I don't intend to marry, I just go out with boys my age, wheee, I'm a fairy." Everyone laughed. Afterwards, there were a lot of sheepish and guilty looks and an atypical silence. At supper tonight there was a food fight, all fourteen boys despite the presence of myself and the military. We were returned to the barracks and ordered to clean up. This evening I called a meeting. The boys expected a lecture and a punishment. I had tried to think of something appropriate but could come up with nothing. They wouldn't listen to a lecture, and what could I use as a punishment?

Instead I told them I understood their impromptu food fight and improper behavior at supper and their need to release their stress, and I joked about the look on Ethan's face when Christian hit him between the eyes with a handful of mashed potatoes, and that I heard tomorrow they were serving spaghetti with tomato sauce, and everyone twittered when I suggested instead of marching to the mess hall, we hold hands and skip. Everyone laughed and joked and I was reminded of the day when I had decided not to challenge Christian and Ethan about our quarantine being an extended holiday and the rapport and respect I had felt as a result of my decision. Humour and understanding are always better than unilateral decisions and strict rules. Perhaps there is still hope. I suggested in the morning the boys begin the day and celebrate with a group shower, hoping they will take the hint. They are beginning to stink and they know it.

SUNDAY, MAY 24.

All hell has broken out. I was woken out of a sound sleep by someone screaming in my ear and shaking my shoulder, "Mr. K! Mr. K! Come quick. They're gonna rape him!" It was Angelo. His words are etched into my memory.

So is my response, "Rape? Rape who? Where?"

"Nath! In the showers! You gotta stop them!"

"Stop who?" I had asked, struggling to shake out my cobwebs.

"Everyone!"

Everyone? Still half asleep, I followed Angelo. I heard the showers running and had thought, "Good." I knew they would get the hint. Nothing stinks like an unwashed teenage boy.

"Com'on, take a good look. You've been checking me out for weeks you fucking fairy. You want it? Well, you're gonna get it. Turn around and bend over faggot!"

It was Chase talking. He and Michael were under the middle shower head and turning Nathanial around, the water streaming down over the three of them. They were surrounded by the rest of the class, everyone naked, half of them lathered up.

"I wasn't! I swear! You can't!" Nathanial was hysterical and tears were streaming down his downy cheeks.

"I fucking can, and I'm going to. We're all going to."

Nathanial begged them to stop and I called out to leave him alone but they didn't stop. At first I had figured they couldn't hear me over Nathanial's protests and everyone's cheering, but then I realized they had chosen not to hear. I angrily pushed my way through the circle of boys. By the time I got through, Chase and Michael had Nathanial turned around and bent over and Chase was stroking himself and rapidly becoming erect. I grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around and ordered him to stop.

"You defending this fucking faggot? You a homo lover? How would you like to take his place? Maybe that's what you want, isn't it?" He spat the words out, his tone taunting and filled with loathing. He wagged his now stiff penis at me. "Coming in here and pretending to be making sure nobody's wasting hot water when you're really checking us all out. And all the while having your own private showers! Well maybe it's time we all got to see what you got between your legs that is so special."

I could not believe what I was hearing. Nor that his comments were being met with cheers and a rousing round of agreement. This could not be happening. It had to be a dream. A nightmare. Of course I showered alone. I was an adult, and their teacher. I knew they all resented my privacy, but I had figured that surely they had to realize why and that it was necessary.

"Yeah! Let's see his dick!" I heard someone call.

"Bet it's small. Bet that's why he's been hiding it from us," someone else observed.

"Yeah! Let's see it!"

Chase grasped my arms and pinned them behind me. Michael held my legs. "Com'on, someone take his dick out!"

"Let's see what the fucker has!"

"His fucking pajamas are fucking soaked!" someone laughed. Someone's hands were in my fly. Fingers wrapped about my penis. I felt it being pulled out.

"Hey, he's got a foreskin!"

"Pull his pajamas off."

"Let's see his nuts!"

"He hasn't got that much hair."

"Logan's got more."

"See if he washes under his foreskin!"

I've written their words exactly as I remember them, exactly as they were said. There'll be an investigation when it's found out what happened. I'll need to report the details accurately. My soaked pajamas were pulled off. Someone pulled back my foreskin. Tyler. He began stroking me. In front of the class. To my embarrassment I grew erect instantly. In front of everyone. Someone commented on me liking being stroked. Someone else said it's because I'm a faggot, a boy lover. Before I could respond Chase said he had something I would love and he spun me around to face him. He had an erection and he wagged it in front of me proudly. It was large for a fifteen-year old. Five and a half inches [14 cm]I figured. He was a head shorter.

I was turned around and bent over and I felt the tip of his erect penis pressing against my anus while Tyler resumed stroking me. I remember feeling tingles of arousal piercing my glans as Chase's erection slid into me. It was soaped and easily penetrated my ass. I remember someone commenting on how easily Chase had entered me and someone else observing I must be used to it and someone else say I must want it. Tyler's fingers were soaped and he yanked my skin up and down over my glans rapidly, roughly, painfully, despite the lubrication of the soap, but it was stimulating.

I could not believe it was actually happening. I remember thinking if Tyler didn't stop I was going to ejaculate and my heart sank. I tried to squirm out of their clutches and someone observed I was liking it so much I couldn't stand still. Someone else said he bet I was ready to squirt and Chase said he was. He was rapidly ramming his erection in and out of my anus and I remember thinking how big it felt and how my anus was burning, burning in the same way as the rim of my glans was. My erection was throbbing and I could feel Chase's throbbing up my rectum, and then I felt the burn up the core of my cock and I was squirting and I could feel Chase squirting his semen up my rectum. We were both gasping for breath. I was totally devastated and humiliated. I'd just ejaculated in front of my students, and had been raped by one of them.

I remember dropping to my knees there in the showers and noticing the water was still running and absurdly thinking what a waste of hot water that was and that I should reprimand them for letting it continue running. I knelt there stupefied and watched Jonathan force Nathanial to his knees and Tyrone rape him, his black cock ramming in and out of the boy's young backside, and then the two boys switching positions. Beside them Christian and Ethan did the same to Noah and behind them Ryan was thrusting his erection in and out of Angelo's ass while James was jerking him. Angelo, who had come to me to stop everyone, and I was kneeling there on the floor of the showers doing nothing! Andre, Logan and Tyler were standing there openly stroking themselves as they watched and suddenly turning, the three fourteen-year-old boys sprayed my face with their hot, slimy semen.

Exhausted, physically and sexually, their balls spent, the boys shut off the water and we dried ourselves in silence, dressed, and marched off for breakfast. We ate without speaking, staring at the plates in front of us, and were marched back to the barracks. I was ashamed, embarrassed and shocked and I suspect every boy was too. Having time to think, I could understand why it had happened. They were young, fourteen and fifteen years old, their blood raging with hormones, and being denied their usual means of dealing with their biological urges, healthy exercise, masturbation, and yes, for some I am sure making out with a girl, they had exploded. I could understand how it could happen, and I could forgive them. What had happened was quite simply beyond their control, just like this virus epidemic and quarantine.

It was Christian who spoke first and who interrupted my thoughts. Calling me Mr. K, he asked if I had a girlfriend, and when I said I did, he asked if I was making out. That was an impertinent question for a student to ask a teacher, but he had spoken politely and respectfully, and I figured he was trying to make some sense out of what had happened and come to grips with his shame also, and was arriving at the same conclusions as I was. So I decided not to reprimand him for the question and besides risk raising the ire of the group. Instead I admitted that I was and the looks on the boys' faces told me I had made the right decision. Making out was something they approved of and valued, so they approved of me, which would make talking to them about what had happened and needing to guard against it happening again easier. That was far better than reprimanding them or punishing them for giving in to an urge over which they had no control.

One of the boys, I do not recall who, asked me what it was like making out, and another asked how I got my girl so hot she put out, and from the looks on the boys' faces, they all wanted to hear the answer. When I was their age it would have been advice I would have wanted to hear. Christian said that better yet, show them what I did. I knew immediately we were approaching a line that should not be crossed and I should put an end to the conversation, but instead I foolishly asked how I could do that, figuring I couldn't since there was no female present and so end this conversation. His response was to use Noah as he looked and acted like a girl and the others laughed and pushed him forward and circled us. I laughed uncomfortably at the joke and was about to decline when I saw the look in their eyes. It was the same look I had seen in Chase's eyes, challenging, confident, and loathing. It was a frightening look. My heart sank as I glanced at Noah. The poor boy mouthed that it was okay. Of course it was not, but we both knew neither of us had a choice. I could see it in his eyes, and he could see it in mine. If I declined, things were going to get nasty, for both of us.

So I put my arms about Noah and kissed him, gently and lovingly, on the cheeks and then the lips, and I caressed his back and then his buttocks, embarrassed and ashamed. After half a dozen kisses I looked into his eyes and he knew what he had to do. He returned my kisses and then began to caress me similarly, much to the delight of our audience and to our humiliation. I cupped his crotch and I could feel him begin to swell. No! My flesh crawled. I slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it out of his tight slacks. I caressed his smooth, muscular chest and then pulled down his trousers. His briefs were sticking out, to the delight of our audience, and as I stroked his thighs his dick jerked and everyone roared. He had firm, shapely thighs, the thighs of a dancer. He had a butterfly tattooed on the right one. I didn't want to go further but knew the others would not be satisfied with that so I reached up and pulled down his underwear. He was fully erect, just over five inches [12.5 cm]. I looked at the others and observed, "So that is how it is done."

His voice cracking, Christian said huskily to finish it. As I opened my mouth to object Noah slipped his arms about me and kissed me on the lips. The look of defeat in his eyes told me he knew we would not be allowed to stop there, and I knew he was right. If I stopped one or both of us would be beaten until we continued, or one of those watching would take my place and another would take Noah's, and neither would be gentle. So I returned Noah's kiss and he disrobed me and we fondled each other, Noah already erect and me quickly becoming so. He turned around and someone handed me a bar of soap. I made sure his anus was well soaped, and my erection, and I penetrated him and fucked him, there in the barracks, with thirteen horny boys cheering us on until I filled his rectum and he sprayed the floor. Noah and I stared at the floor in embarrassment. Some of the other boys did too.

We headed back to the mess hall for lunch and I hoped that would be the end of it but upon our return the boys were all eager for more fun. Chucking his jeans and boxers on the floor, Christian sat on his bunk and spread his legs and called Nathanial over to him. The boy obeyed meekly and fearfully. Calling him an emo, he asked Nathan if he knew what emo stood for, and Nathanial whispered, "Eat me out." I had not known that. Christian asked if he'd ever eaten a girl out and when Nathanial said he had not, Christian asked if he'd ever eaten a guy, to which Nathanial replied with even more disgust he had not. Christian replied then now was his chance. Of the fifteen of us there, Nathanial and I were the only two embarrassed, and neither of us could do a thing. He knelt on the floor and took Christian's cock in his mouth and I stood there and watched until Nathanial was gulping down Christian's slime.

Andre was hauled up next and Ethan asked if he knew what French kissing was and if he had ever done it. When he replied he knew but had never done it, Angelo was called forward and the two boys were ordered to copy what they had seen Noah and me do, except to also French kiss. To their embarrassment the two boys became hard and Andre was forced to fuck Angelo until the two of them came.

After supper, the boys wasted no time, beginning with the jocks Michael and Chase stripping and raping Nathanial while the rest watched and cheered. Accusing Angelo of being a teacher's pet, he was forced to eat out my ass, with hints to Nathanial and Christian to pay especially close attention. While Angelo wormed his tongue up my asshole, Ryan stepped up behind him and inserted his erection up the young Filipino boy's ass and James knelt in front of me and jacked me off, spinning me around at the last moment so I sprayed Angelo in the face. Noah and Tyrone were dragged forward and the two art students forced to sixty-nine, Christian joining in and thrusting his cock up Tyrone's black ass while Ethan, handsome Ethan, every girl's heartthrob, fucked Noah until all four were grunting and gasping with their orgasms. When they were done Andre was forced to suck Jonathan while fucked by Logan, and I was forced to bend over and suck Andre. As I slipped my lips about the young boy's slender cock and began to suck, I was mounted by Tyler and as I began to swallow Andre's thin semen I felt Tyler's squirting up my ass. Exhausted, one by one the boys finally dropped off to sleep. Unable to do so, nauseated, humiliated, and ashamed, and frightened, I completed this entry. At least things cannot possibly get worse.

MONDAY, MAY 25.

Today was a repeat of Sunday's perversions. In place of the original cliques, the boys have sorted themselves into three groups, the bullies Michael, Chase, Christian, and Ethan; the bullied Angelo, Andre, Nathan, Logan, and Noah; and those who neither forced anyone to engage in sex nor were forced themselves but simply joined in, Ryan, James, Johnathan, and Tyrone. Tyler was pretty much ignored and ignored everyone, joining in when he wished, and to my humiliation and despair I was treated as a curiosity and special entertainment for the amusement and pleasure of everyone. There was no attempt to curb their sexual desires, the four bullies openly ordering the five weaker boys to satisfy them in whatever way struck their fancy, the more perverted and demeaning the better, and the five, accepting their fate, doing as they were told. The four who were neither bullies nor bullied paraded about with their cocks in hand, playing with themselves and seeking someone, anyone, to bring them satisfaction. Gone were all rules or restrictions and any semblance of civilized behaviour. The stronger roamed the barracks and showers, seeking out the weaker for pleasure and to demonstrate their power.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 27.
Despite having ejaculated repeatedly Sunday and Monday, the boys continued at the same pace throughout Tuesday and today, the stronger coupling in whichever way struck their fancy with whomever they wanted without the slightest shame or embarrassment. Before lunch I was forced to eat out Nathanial, licking his anus and worming my tongue up his asshole, fucking him, and then kneeling behind him and sucking out my semen, and everyone laughed at the perverted and amusing entertainment before we headed off to eat. That afternoon I was forced to bend over and satisfy Michael, Chase, Christian and Ethan before heading off to supper, teen slime filling my rectum and oozing into my underwear while I ate. When we returned to the barracks I provided this evening's entertainment by sucking off each of the bullied boys, Angelo, Nathan, Logan, and Noah while the rest watched or fucked the boys as I sucked them.

As I sit here now at my desk writing with the taste of teen cock on my lips and teen cum in my mouth and my anus burning from being repeatedly fucked, I no longer know what to think or what to do. Nothing in any of the education methodology courses I took at university prepared me for what is happening. There is nothing I can do.

THURSDAY, MAY 28.
A good night's sleep and a hearty breakfast and the testosterone levels in my young charges were back to normal and the boys were back at it once again, reminding me of the commercial with the bunny with the Eveready batteries that never ran down. Dragging me into the center of the barracks, the boys lined up, seven behind me and seven in front, Ethan in the lead in the line behind me, Christian in the lead in front of me. As I bent over to suck Christian's cock, Ethan's penetrated me from behind.

As one finished the next stepped forward to take his place and the rest cheered and urged him on. There was no end and I gradually realized why. Those who had lined up behind me had joined the end of line waiting for a blow job, and those whom I had sucked off had joined the end of the line waiting to fuck my ass. By the time the seventh pair were finished my asshole was rubbed raw and burning with pain and my jaw was stiff and aching, and they were ready to ejaculate again. And so as Christian thrust his cock up my burning ass, sending sharp pangs of pain through my anus, I took Ethan's stiff cock, streaked with my own ass slime and shit, in my mouth and began sucking as I slid my lips up and down his shaft. The two boys proceeded to fill my ass and mouth once again with their goo. At some point, I do not recall when or while with whom, I ejaculated and someone joked I was so full of cum I was starting to overflow without even being milked, much to everyone's amusement.

Their sexual marathon continued after lunch, the forced and awkward couplings of the first days now willing and eager unions. Michael, Chase and Noah had formed a threesome, something I had noticed happening more and more frequently and I suspect the two straight athletes had come to realize the muscular strength required of a ballet dancer. Just as heterosexual and homophobic as the two jocks, Christian and Ethan frequently paired with each other or formed a foursome with Angelo and Tyrone. I even heard Christian and Ethan discussing getting their nipples pierced like Tyrone's. Andre, Nathanial and Logan had formed another threesome, frequently joining James and Ryan who had bonded as a pair. As he had done at school, Jonathan joined whichever group caught his interest at the time. Tyler was a surprise. While all the others had been unfriendly and distant, almost cold, in their attitude toward him, they now, I noticed, made an effort to include him. Whether that was because he still frightened them and they did not want to risk offending him, or because they had broken through that shell he enclosed himself in and had discovered something, I do not know, but T. Rex was rarely found alone anymore.

After supper, the boys chucked their clothes the moment they had returned to the barracks, as had become their custom, and having satisfied their thirst and hunger they began pairing up to satisfy their sexual needs, also as had become their custom. Ethan and Christian began by joining in a sixty-nine and while they eagerly began sucking on each other's cock Ryan snuggled up behind Ethan and mounted him and James mounted Christian. As Ryan began thrusting his cock in and out of Ethan's backside, Nathan approached him and Ryan immediately went down on him without the slightest hesitation. Seeing that, Noah approached James who immediately went down on Noah.

Nathan motioned Angelo over and began sucking him. Michael studied the writhing tangle of boys and joined them and mounted Nathan. Following Michael's lead, Chase mounted Noah who in turn signalled Andre over and went down on him. Jonathan joined the group and mounted Angelo while Angelo began sucking Logan, and Tyrone mounted Andre while Andre began sucking Tyler. Motioning me to join them, I stood on the bed beside them and Jonathan and Tyrone went down on me. And so we formed a twisting, grunting, sweating, lust-driven tangle united by fifteen stiff cocks throbbing and aching to get off with fifteen pair of sweating, swollen balls drawn up tight beneath them until the fifteen of us blasted. Fifteen avowed straight males dripping with sweat and fresh semen heaved a collective sigh of pleasure and relief, stomachs and rectums filled with slime and naked flesh streaked with it.

FRIDAY, MAY 29.
It was announced this morning that this was our fortieth day of quarantine. I could not believe it. After days of counting and anticipation we had all lost track. We are to be packed and ready to be transported back to the school tomorrow morning immediately after breakfast. Expecting cheers and pandemonium, the medical and military teams were surprised by the silence that met them. They hadn't a clue what was going through our minds.

The entire day has been spent in silence. The boys have been exchanging glances of guilt, embarrassment and fear and sneaking overt glances at me all day long. Myself, I've spent most of the day in my curtained_off area. There is much to think about. What had happened to us? How could things have gone so terribly wrong? I learned in a university psychology course on child development there is a school of thought that our fundamental human nature is violent and self-centered. We suppress those instincts and act in a civilized manner because of the pressure of society, a child developing a conscience and responsibility because of the rules imposed on him by his society, his parents and his peers. Freud argued that without our innate capacity to repress desire, civilization would not exist. In Golding's novel Lord of the Flies, a stranded group of British schoolboys fail to maintain those rules and become violent, blood-thirsty, power-hungry savages.

I had dismissed it all as academic with no relevance to the real world and teaching and forgot about it. I was wrong. Without rules, Room 9G had become a pack of wild, lust-filled savages. Golding's premise that there is a beast inside all of us and when civilization stops suppressing it, that beast is unleashed, was true. Lust for power and control and for self-gratification of one's prurient desires rises to the surface and become new guidelines for behavior.

So what will happen come Monday when we meet again in the classroom? Will the savages become well-behaved, civilized school boys again under the scrutiny of Mrs. Phillips? Will peer pressure and homophobia revert relationships back to what they had been six weeks ago, or now with the beast released, will having experienced the gratification of power and sexual pleasure leave the beast unrestrained? What will I see in the eyes of those fourteen boys when we meet again, the conditioned respect of almost nine years of schooling, or the blaze of lust and control and the memories of this past week?

And what will they see in mine?

The End