Istari

Worldwide Boy Gladiators

Chapters 41-42

"Fuck you!" Ian shouted scrambling away on his hands and knees as the big guard dog, the same one that had given the boy his very first doggie-fuck, crawled back into his nice dry house. "I hate that dog!" For the first time since their ordeal began, eleven-year-old Ian began to cry. Chris wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

"There's a spot between those two," the thirteen-year-old said as the wind-driven rain stung his face. He pointed to a narrow space between two of the doghouses that might at least protect them from the harsh winds of this latest tropical storm. Dripping wet and miserable the naked boys crawled together into the tight space and made do as best they could. Ian was the exact opposite of Josh in every way, but Chris still felt a natural big-brotherly sense of duty to protect the smaller boy, even as his own heart pounded with fear and anxiety.

Ian sat curled up tightly, resting his chin on his knees. "I hate this place," the boy said in his high soft voice. "My dad tried to talk me out of signing that paper, you know, the indenture thingy…"

"Yeah."

"I should'a listened to him. I didn't know it was gonna be like this."

"Me neither," Chris replied as he looked out from their ineffectual shelter at the sopping muddy mire the ground was turning into. "I mean I saw some XB-1 shows. Sneaked a peak at them at night after the rents went to bed, but I just figured it was all like acting or something. But it's real."

"Yeah, mate, way too real."

Through the rest of the night, the boys would drift off occasionally, only to be awakened by a crash of thunder and the subsequent chorus of loud barking from the dogs.

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" Ian shouted at the dogs and the sky each time, growing more and more desperate for sleep, and breaking down in tears. Chris just drew him closer and held him. Near dawn Chris awoke from an all too brief nap to the gentle feeling of Ian's soft warm hand stroking his young teenaged cock. Scared and exhausted he may have been, but Chris was still a thirteen-year-old boy and Ian's light touch had quickly produced a rigid throbbing six-inch [15 cm] erection.

"Stop it," Chris said, not because he didn't like the feelings Ian was giving him, but for fear of the consequences should they be caught.

"Okay. Yeah. I just wanted to do something nice for you, since you took care of me during the storm."

The boys both watched in disappointment as Chris' erection slowly softened.

"Thanks anyway," the thirteen-year-old said.

Ian smiled at him, absent-mindedly fondling his own small erection as eleven-year-old boys will do. "Josh is lucky to have such a cool brother like you." The younger boy rested his head on Chris' shoulder. The rain had stopped, the sun was coming up, the air was already growing still and hot.

Chris and Ian were still wide-awake a few hours later when the guards unlocked the gate to the kennel. The dogs all barked and yipped in anticipation of their morning feeding. They were immediately brought to heel by the experienced guards, and the moist meaty dog-food was portioned out into their bowls. Chris and Ian squatted side by side, and watched silently with their own lean taut stomachs growling. Two more bowls were set down amongst those of the guard dogs and the boys were forced to crawl over on their hands and knees.

"Eat up, pups," one of the guards said as he filled the boys' bowls with a heaping portion of the foul-smelling dog food. "That's all you'll be getting today."

The dog food was horrible, both in taste and texture. Chris gagged and Ian actually spit up after a few bites.

"Eat it!" the same guard shouted, forcing Ian's face into the bowl and holding the boy's head there. Smart enough to realize this probably was the only food he'd be getting, Ian managed to force it down this time, and keep it there.

The boys were then forced to lick each other's faces clean. This perverted act of intimacy caused Ian to spring an immediate erection. Chris' teenaged cock quickly followed his younger counterpart's example.

"Just look at those two little bitch faggots. They've got boners for each other," one of the guards said while the others laughed at them. "Let the dogs have some more fun with them before we get them leashed."

Chris was mounted by the gigantic Mephistopheles once again, and again the thirteen-year-old had to endure the terror and agony of the long wait as the dog's powerful knot slowly went down. Ian was fortunate enough to escape any further use by the other doggies, but he was instead made to suck the cocks of the guards, each man taking his turn enjoying the delightful pleasure of the eleven-year-old's small warm mouth.

Later, the boys' trainers, Jason and Anthony entered the kennels. Chris was still on his hands and knees, trembling softly as one of the younger smaller dogs sniffed at his ravaged boyhole and took a few playful nips at his hairless dangling ball-sack. The boy made no reaction when he was dragged to his feet and stood next to Ian.

"You okay, mate?" the younger boy asked, noticing the vacant expression in the thirteen-year-old's eyes. Chris said nothing, but started peeing as he stood there, his long soft cock hanging limp between his legs as he emptied his bladder without any real conscious thought. Ian needed to take his morning piss too, but he knew peeing without permission was totally against the rules.

"You'd better stop that, before they see you," Ian whispered. But Jason had already noticed. He stood in front of the five-foot [1½ m] tall boy and stared into his distant eyes.

"Hey, Zero-Seven," he snapped his fingers and smacked Chris gently across the cheek. "Are you in there? Come on."

Chris' blue eyes flashed recognition for the first time and he immediately began to cry. Jason moved in closer and locked his hands around the boy's trembling shoulders. He did not want Anthony, or the cameras, to see what was happening.

"Come on, Chris. Toughen up. You're one of the older boys. You can't be acting like this."

Chris sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, then stared for a moment at the iron shackle permanently locked around his slender wrist. Once again, Jason had to snap the boy back to reality.

'This is not a good sign' the trainer thought to himself. But there was no time for second guessing today. The next round of Chris and Ian's double punishment awaited them. It was scheduled to begin in less than fifteen minutes.

Heavy chains were again attached to the naked boys' collars, and specially designed leather muzzles were strapped around their heads. Their wrists and ankles were chained and they were forced to crawl out on their hands and knees.

"Have fun with the doggies, faggot?" Anthony asked, kicking Ian playfully in his grape-sized eleven-year-old balls. Ian's little wiener was hard again. "Looks like you did."

Ian let out a high-pitched yelp and muttered unintelligibly into the muzzle that now covered the lower half of his face.

"Move your lazy butt, boy," Jason growled at Chris with uncharacteristic venom. After what may have been perceived as an earlier moment of weakness, he had to put on a good show now for the cameras. If any of the other trainers thought he was going soft, or worse if the cameras caught him showing even the slightest mercy to his young gladiator, it would go badly for his future on the island. He tugged hard on the chain attached to Chris' iron collar. Chris submissively crawled along, picking up his pace to match the long confident strides of his master.

With the two naked boys crawling along behind their trainers, they marched back to the training center. A small crowd of spectators was already milling about, awaiting the promised second phase of the boys' punishment. With the weekend over, the visiting population on the island had shrunk dramatically, but there was still an impressive gathering for this early morning event known ominously as the Rocking Horse. This would be the first time with punishment was meted out to the boy gladiators, and it would become a word of dread that all the boys would grow to fear.

The Rocking Horse was a curved apparatus designed to rock back and forth as two boys sat mounted to either end. Mounted quite literally as instead of seats or handholds, the horse had a thick bulbous dildo at each end. The boys stared at it in dread as their chains were removed and they were separated. Their faces remained partially covered by the humiliating muzzles. Chris was taken to the left-hand end of the rocker, Ian to the right. Their butt-plugs were removed and one of the mules was brought in carrying two steel buckets. It was number 1674, the same boy Chris had met before. He was naked as always, and already dirty and sweaty from being hard at work since dawn. He wore a spiked iron collar today with a long thick chain trailing down over his chest. His wrists and ankles were in heavy steel shackles. His genitals, as always, remained encased in a small permanent steel pod that had not been removed in longer than the boy could remember. The bald, hairless, twelve-year-old mule silently placed the buckets in front of the two boys.

"Squat and take a shit," Anthony ordered them both. The crowed murmured with excitement and digital cameras were quickly readied.

Chris was the first to squat over his bucket. Ian followed a moment later, blushing fiercely. With the spectators watching and jeering and taunting and taking pictures of them, the two boys grunted and groaned and emptied their bowls into the buckets. They were not allowed to wipe, but rather were ordered to bend over and grab their ankles. The young mule dutifully cleaned both boys' with his tongue, to the delight of the crowd. He then picked up the two buckets and carried them out. At no point did he protest or hesitate in his assigned task. He simply obeyed like a mindless drone and moved on to his next menial and unpleasant chore.

"Alright, Zero-Seven," Jason said, rocking one end of the horse down. "Get on."

Chris, leaking pre-cum and sporting a firm six-inch [15 cm] erection, stared at the ominous dildo. It was huge, fat and thick with a bulbous end and covered all around with dull metal studs. Once he was on it, the boy knew that he'd never be able to get off again without Jason's help. Chris also knew he had no choice. He straddled his end of the horse and stood directly over the dildo, craning his neck back nervously in an effort to see it. Jason rocked the horse up until Chris could feel the tip of the monstrous prong pressing against his boy-hole, giving him a little tingle of pleasure.

'Ok. This won't be so bad,' Chris thought. The tip of the prong was just barely spreading his rectum.

But things got instantly worse when the horse was rocked in the other direction to allow Ian to get on at his end. Chris immediately went up on his toes and then felt the dildo mercilessly working its way inside him as he slowly left his feet. For a terrifying moment, his weight was held up simply by the strength of his boyish sphincter, strength that was not sufficient to the task. Try as he might, the boy slid further and further down along the thick studded dildo, impaling himself excruciatingly slowly, moaning and screaming and shrieking with every agonizing inch until his butt finally came to rest on the narrow wooden frame of the rocker. His cock was hard and throbbing desperately between his smooth trembling muscular thighs.

It was now Ian's turn to mount the horse. He stood with his lean shapely swimmer's legs spread wide apart, directly over the dildo, which was only slightly smaller than the one now buried completely in Christopher's butt. Ian's cute little cock was every bit as hard as Christopher's, but barely half the size of the young teen's.

Jason released his hold on the horse, allowing Chris' own weight to rock the thirteen-year-old's side of the device downwards, driving Ian's side up and forcing the well-greased dildo into the eleven-year-old's butt. Ian screamed into his muzzle as his feet left the ground and he was split in half by the thick studded prong. Up he went until his toes were nearly two feet [60 cm] off the ground. He swung his arms about desperately. His little cock twitched and bounced, his young muscles tensed, and right there on the spot he experienced the first of the many torturous orgasms he would be enduring during the next twelve hours of this ordeal. A few small thin drops of clear fluid shot out of his three-inch [7½ cm] long erection, but Ian was still mostly a dry cummer. Those would be the last meager drops he'd produce today as the horse kept the pre-teen on the edge and drove him mercilessly over it time and time again.

Before they boys were left alone to rock themselves back and forth, several cruel elements were added to the ordeal. This was punishment, after all. Most notably, Anthony reached beneath each boy's side of the horse as they rocked into position and flipped a small switch, which sent a low electrical current through the dildoes, causing them to vibrate and twist inside the boys' butts. Both boys immediately moaned loudly into their muzzles, their eyes wide and filling with tears.

The boys would not be allowed to use their hands for balance, or to play with their aching erections caused by the constant pressure being applied to their youthful prostates. Their slender wrists were locked together behind their backs. A heavy padlock between the rings on their iron shackles did the trick. Their arms were then drawn up in a reverse prayer position and secured in place by a chain connected to the back of their collars. Naturally the boys fidgeted and twisted in this uncomfortable position, only driving the dildoes in deeper.

The horse itself was actually a rather small device, custom-built to suit the measurements of the boy gladiators. Only two feet [60 cm] separated the two boys from each other as they sat impaled on their ends of the rocker. Nipple clamps were produced. Mean ones. Metal. With sharp biting teeth. A pair for each boy, connected to each other by sturdy chains. The length of the chains was set taut, so that as they rocked back and forth, each boy would feel a constant, sharp, and agonizing tug on his adorable little nips.

Lastly a metal hot plate was slid beneath each boy's position and turned on to a low setting. This ensured that neither of them would be able to rest their feet on the ground for more than a few seconds. Attempting to do so would result in the burning of the soft tender soles of their bare boy-feet. Their only option was to use their legs to drive their side of the horse upwards, sending their partner down toward the burning plate, thus ensuring that the horse continued to rock from side to side at a brisk and steady pace. As the boys began to tire, the temperature of the hot plate would be increased, providing more than adequate motivation to keep them going.

This was an another endurance-style punishment, and once the initial spectacle of seeing the boys mounted onto the horse and watching them rock back and forth for a few minutes had passed, many of the spectators slowly departed. Most had planes to catch, returning them to their dull and normal lives. For Chris and Ian however, this was their life and would be for several years to come. After about thirty minutes of agonizing anal stimulation, Chris' rigid erection began to ooze a steady stream of creamy white boy-seed. He groaned and whimpered into his muzzle as the steady rocking of the horse relentlessly milked him. After a full day being fucked by the guard dogs, and now less than an hour on the thick vibrating dildo, Chris' little hole was ravaged and numb, but his prostate remained sensitive and swollen from constant abuse. He tried to draw his thighs together and lift himself off the dildo, only to be rocked back down onto the hot plate and forced to clench his butt around the gigantic invader and use his legs to force himself back up again.

The constant motion was keeping both boys in a near constant state of relentless arousal. Chris' cock would occasionally soften, only to thicken and become erect again moments later. It would throb and pulse violently every time Chris' weight slammed his side of the horse downward, then soften a bit as he went back up. The young teen was essentially being milked by the relentless motion of the Rocking Horse. Poor Ian did not even have that brief respite. His little pre-teen cock remained stiff as a nail, swelling up bigger and harder than he'd ever seen it before. Little veins he never knew were there were beginning to show beneath its normally smooth silken skin. His beautiful pink cockhead, usually covered by his loose fleshy foreskin, was provocatively exposed and gradually turning an angry shade of purple as the blood continued to build up in his innocent little organ.

The clamps connecting the boys' nipples introduced an added element of pain and suffering from which there was no hope of escape. A little trickle of blood streamed from Ian's right nipple where the clamp had bitten into the boy's tender flesh. Tears were streaming freely from their eyes as moans and groans issued from their throats.

While the live audience was small, televised ratings for this special punishment event were setting records around the world. The Rocking Horse would be become a staple of the Worldwide Boy Gladiators line-up.

Back at Chris and Josh's home in Maryland, Matt Andrews was watching his oldest son ride the horse. Every time young Chris' cock swelled and oozed another dribble of fresh boy-cum, Matt stroked his own massive drooling erection. The boys' mother had gone out with her girlfriends for the day, giving Matt a chance to really enjoy the show.

He was getting very close to cumming, watching his own son being tortured. Did he feel guilt about it? Perhaps a little, but Matthew's secret love of young teenaged boys was being fed and stoked to a fevered pitch by the images on the screen. It didn't matter at the moment whose son it was suffering naked and bound on the horse. It just didn't matter. Or maybe it did. Maybe the fact that it was Chris was making this even hotter for him. He'd fantasized about fucking one or both of his sons since they were both little tykes, and Chris was hot. Totally hot. No doubt about it.

"Oh, god, yeeeah, I am such a pervert," he gasped as he felt his balls tighten. "He is so gorgeous," he stared at his sexy young son with lustful eyes. "I made that with these," he groaned, giving his balls a firm squeeze, making his cock even harder. "Oh yeah, I made that."

Just then, as he was about to go over the edge, the phone rang.

"Dammit!" His cock wilted quickly and he pressed the speaker button. On the screen Chris was moaning and sobbing as the relentless milking of his teenaged prostate continued without mercy. "Hello?"

"Mr. Matthew Andrews?"

"Speaking."

"Mr. Andrews, my name is Bruce. I recently had the pleasure of getting to know your son Chris on Gladiator Island. Getting to know him very well, intimately so, if you take my meaning."

The man's accent indicated he was likely calling from overseas. He sounded Scottish.

"I do," Matthew replied, thinking how lucky Bruce must have been to be able to do all the nasty things to Chris he himself had only ever dreamed of doing.

"I was quite impressed with the boy, Mr. Andrews. I believe he has a bright future. I have a proposal for you."

"Really? Oh, and you can just call me Matt."

Eleven-year-old Josh had just endured his first night in the hot box. The setting of the sun did little to cool things off and the buzzing of the butt-plug inside him had driven him to a level of pre-teen sexual arousal he'd never experienced before. He'd lost count of the number of boners he'd sprung. He noticed he was leaking some of that clear stuff that Chris always made whenever his dick got hard, not as much of it, but some. It had dripped down into a little puddle on the metal floor of the box. Josh spent hours just staring at his dick, watching it get hard, then go soft, watching the fluid slowly leak out him, feeling his balls resting on the warm metal floor of the box and telling himself stories and counting to one-gazillion (which at eleven he did not quite know how to do) and anything else to keep himself from going bonkers.

Only just about an hour before dawn did the batteries in his butt-plug finally die and the temperatures finally drop and the sweaty miserable boy finally doze off. He was awakened again with a strong need to pee and an even stronger erection. Josh spread his legs and stared down at his oversized piece of boy-meat. You might think it was a source of pride for him, being so big, almost as big as his brother's, but it was really rather embarrassing, walking around with that huge ridiculous schlong between his legs. And the drugs they were forcing into him were making it even bigger! He hated his chastity belt, but it least it kept people from seeing and teasing him about his way-too-big dick.

It was really hard this morning, painfully so, and bouncing up and down with the rhythm of his pulse. He wanted to touch it, stroke it, rub it just the way his big brother Chris had taught him, but with those spiked gloves locked on each hand he knew he couldn't do it.

'Gotta take a leak.'

It was still difficult for Joshua to just pee on the spot, right there on the floor, but the burning in his bladder soon overcame any reluctance. He clenched his eyes closed and willed himself to start pissing in spite of his morning boner. He knew from experience that a good pee would help to soften things a bit down there and maybe he could finally take his mind off it.

So he peed. All over the floor. His urine running under him and around his balls. There wasn't enough room inside the cramped little box to escape the warm wetness so he just sat there in his own boy-piss, waiting for them to come and drag him out and give him his ice bath and change the batteries in his butt-plug.

Aside from stories and counting and staring at his penis, Josh had also spent the night considering what he'd do when they did come back. He was still pissed at how they'd treated him. And the more he thought about it this was all really Danny's fault anyway. Bitching like a little cry-baby about being fouled like that. What did they expect him to do, just take it?

"Why didn't you just play the game, ay," Josh cursed the other boy-gladiator, mocking Danny's Canadian accent. "Stupid fucking sissy!"

Almost exactly the same age, Danny was certainly his best friend among the other gladiators, but Josh had come here to win and he wasn't going to let any stupid rules get in the way. Let the trainers worry about the rules. His job was to fight. The more he thought about it in his heat-crazed eleven-year-old brain, the more he knew he was right.

"I'm a Boy Gladiator," he shouted. "I'm a BOY GLADIATOR! And I'm gonna kick everyone's butt from now on!"

Just saying it felt good. And his cock was nice and soft again as he diverted all the energy elsewhere. He could hear the motor of the four-wheeler approaching. His lips curled in a defiant sneer and his athletic young body tensed, like a wild animal ready to strike. He wasn't sure yet what he was gonna do, but he was gonna be ready. When they unlocked that door to let him out… yeah they'd see what a real boy gladiator is made of!

"Always a pleasure, Lara," Bill Durand said as he gently kissed his newly promoted Executive Producer on the cheek.

"Thank you, Bill," she replied, quite pleased that she was now on a first-name basis with her boss. Only Jason Sanborne, the head trainer, had thus far achieved that level of familiarity with the shock-media mogul. A slight thrill went through her as he kissed her. William Durand was certainly a handsome man, tall and tanned with a well-groomed goatee, his hair slightly graying at the sides. To call him distinguished would not be an understatement. In all her dealings with him, Durand was invariably refined and gentlemanly, and in spite of his obvious sexual attraction to young teenaged boys, he always knew how to treat a lady.

Young Trevor stood at his side today, wearing nothing but a skimpy pink thong, which just barely concealed his tiny shrunken genitals. Golden rings adorned each of his ears, and Lara was quite sure she detected lip-gloss, rouge and a bit of eye shadow on the boy's face.

"You'll have to excuse us, my dear," Durand explained. "Trevor was feeling a bit girly today and I indulged him, against my better judgement. The pink does suit his skin-tone though, don't you think?"

Lara was forced to agree. The small slightly built fourteen-year-old's head came up just barely to the level of his master's chest. The boy's tan was getting deeper and darker, his blonde hair sun-bleached lighter and lighter every time Lara encountered him. He was staring at her with obvious adoration and affection as he always did, but whenever she rested her gaze upon him, he always darted his eyes away and bowed his head. Despite his small stature, Lara could not help but notice the boy's fine lean muscle tone. He was far too small and delicate to be a Boy Gladiator, they'd eat him alive out there, but he was still an attractive specimen of boyhood. Lara wondered what the boy might look like without the regular doses of testroxil keeping him in a regressed dormant prepubescent state.

'He'd probably be a sexy little thing, heck he already is,' she thought to herself, offering him a gentle smile, which he shyly returned before stepping closer into his master's shadow.

Durand tussled the boy's long hair. "I think Trevor has taken a bit of a fancy to you, Ms. Tomlinson. He will be sulking and utterly useless today if you do not allow him to give you a little kiss on the cheek.

Trevor blushed fiercely, but the look in his eyes indicated his rapt enthusiasm for the idea.

Lara smiled, bent down to the boy's level and turned her head. "Go ahead then, young man."

Trevor felt an unusual stirring in his loins, and his little shrunken cocklet actually twitched and swelled for just a moment, before going limp again. It was the closest thing to an erection the boy could experience. He stepped close to her, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her perfume and kissed her on the cheek.

The feather soft touch of the boy's lips was adorably awkward, but Lara did not tease him. "Thank you, Trevor. You are such a fine young gentleman."

"Yes, miss, thank you, miss."

"You may call me Lara, if your master does not object."

Trevor smiled. Durand nodded.

"Thanks, L… Lara," the boy replied. His voice was still that of a boy three or four years younger. It had never actually broken, as the boy's testroxil treatments had started before he entered puberty.

"You are always so nervous when I'm here," Lara continued, stroking the boy's smooth soft cheek. "Do I frighten you?"

"No, miss, I mean, Lara," the boy stammered, keeping his eyes locked at his feet. "It's just you're so pretty. And Gladiators was your idea. I think that's really cool. I think you're really cool… I want to be a gladiator so bad but master's afraid I'll get hurt, you don't think I'd get hurt do you, I mean I'm tougher than I look and…"

Durand swatted the boy gently on the butt. "Alright, Trevor, you're rambling. Lara and I have business. Fetch us some tea, will you? There's a good lad."

Trevor blushed again, smiled at Lara and scampered off toward the kitchen.

"I do apologize, Lara. The drugs keep his little cock and balls in check, but he is a fourteen-year-old boy and he does appear to have developed an attraction to you. I can keep him chained in the basement for your future visits if you prefer."

"Not a problem, Bill. Actually I quite like him. He's a little charmer."

"That he is."

"Are you ever going to let him off the testroxil?" she asked conversationally as he led her to his office overlooking the blue Caribbean. "I can imagine that with his good looks you could put him to stud and make a fortune."

"Breeding is still illegal in most parts of the world, my dear," Durand reminded her, "though we are working to change that."

Lara wondered who this euphemistic 'we' might happen to be. She certainly understood that William Durand had interests and influence far outside the realms of television and mass-media.

"And," he continued, offering her a seat, "I'm sorry to say that he's been on the drug for so long now that taking him off of it would have rather devastating effects on him, both physically and mentally. It would destroy him and I can't bear to let that happen. I never intended it when I bought him, but Trevor has become much more than a slave to me. I really do think of him as a son. But you didn't come here to discuss my curious domestic issues, I'm sure."

"No, sir. I have the latest recruitment report here," she turned her netbook computer around so Durand could see the screen. "Out of thousands of applications, we've narrowed it down to three primary candidates. Our international recruiters have already visited each of them, photographed them, taken blood samples and had them sign an exclusive letter of intent, giving us first crack at them."

"First crack?"

"Yes, apparently the BBC is developing a program called 'Teenaged Death Race', which will feature boys in the same age range as Gladiators. I can only assume the 'Death' they mention is merely a euphemism. There are also rumors that the Telefox Network is working on something similar to our little enterprise here. We all knew there'd be copy-cats if Gladiators was a success. We just need to make sure we secure the best, brightest and cutest boys for ourselves. Take a look and see if you don't agree that these three are all definitely WBG material."

Durand transferred the data to his own computer and opened the three files simultaneously, displaying them on the large screen three-dimensional plasma viewer mounted on the wall behind his desk. The images of three naked boys appeared, rotating slowly as their individual stats filled the split screen. He immediately liked what he saw.

"João Perriera," Durand read, already licking his lips and adjusting his erection at the sight of the first boy. "Brazilian. São Paolo. Thirteen. Nice trim little body on him. Not too ethnic looking, but just exotic enough. Look at that sexy brown skin and those dark eyes. Hmmm, got a good-sized cock on him, that's always a plus. Football. Well that's no surprise for a Brazilian boy. Already signed to São Paolo FC's under 14 club. Now that is impressive. We'd have to negotiate with them for his rights I assume, but that should be no problem, seeing as we are their main sponsor at the moment. Personality traits and academics seem to be in line with requirements. Excellent."

Durand sent young João's file into the background and brought the next one forward. "Tautoru Addison. New Zealander… hmm a Kiwi. That should be fun with our two Aussies already on the island. Eleven years old. Unusual name…"

"I believe it's Maori, sir. He's one quarter, from his mother's side."

"Yes, I can see he's of mixed heritage. And an attractive mix it is. The dark hair and brown skin of the natives, the blue eyes and facial features of the Europeans. Very handsome little lad. They're still not fond of mixed-race kids down there, are they? What did they call them in the old days? Creamys."

"Something like that."

"Poor lad. Well, he'd be a star in other parts of the world, and we'll see to it he becomes one. Sports… Rugby union, and cricket. Cricket? Really? Well I don't think we'll be doing much of that here, but a young Rugger could be just what we need. Look at that build. He's a little stud for eleven. Cute little hairless genitals. That'll give Miles Harris some competition in that department. All of his psychological and scholastic data seems to be in order. Very nice."

Durand sent Tautoru's cute image into the background and brought up the last file, a familiar one, since he'd already reviewed it and discussed it with Jason Sanborne on several occasions.

"Ah, sexy young Shaka. Samuel Ngumi, age twelve. I like him, and we need an African kid, but his profile indicates he would be a disaster as a gladiator. Jason says we should bring him on as a Junior Trainer."

"Yes, sir," Lara replied as Trevor returned with tea and biscuits for them both. "Thank you, Trevor," she said as the small young teen handed her a cup. "That's why I've included him here. I agree with Jason that he is the ideal candidate for the Junior Trainer's program."

"He does have the attitude and personality for it. And he already has a slave of his own doesn't he?"

"Most wealthy black South African boys do. They were the first country to ratify the international treaty. Estimates very, but it is thought that between seventy and eighty percent of the white male population below the age of sixteen in that country is currently enslaved."

"So he'd make a good authority figure for the younger Gladiators. Plus in much of the western world the image of a young black boy dominating a white kid would still be quite arousing and controversial. Some of our fans will love him, many of them will hate him, but either way that means he'll be popular. Old prejudices die hard and we can exploit that for big ratings."

"I figured you'd see it that way," Lara said as she watched Trevor busy himself around the room, straightening and dusting and generally being cute and good-to-look-at and otherwise unobtrusive.

"So we'll be bringing all three of them to the island this month?"

"That's the plan. Perriera and Addison will join the gladiators after a week of training in their home countries, and Ngumi will bunk with the trainers and start working under their supervision immediately."

"I'm still not sure about adding more boys so soon," Durand said. "Ten is such an easy and manageable number."

"That's certainly true, sir, but when we consider the injuries and wear-and-tear on the boys' bodies, it think it's wise we bring a few more gladiators into the mix. We can rotate them in and out of events as needed and make sure they all get enough rest to remain in top physical condition at all times. Tired worn out boys who can't compete aren't going to be very fun to watch. Plus, I think it is quite clear to all of us that little Miles Harris is becoming an international phenomenon. We need to protect him and keep him out of the more dangerous events. He seems to thrive when we put a microphone in his hands and let him emcee the competitions. I think the day will come when he is no longer competing at all. He really has become the face and voice of the show. His avatar is all over the web-site, and he gets fan mail from boys as young as five! Why waste such an obvious talent."

"A reasonable argument. You are always the voice of clarity, my dear. Thank you."

Lara smiled at her employer's praise.

"Shall I make the arrangements then?"

"By all means."

Just as Lara was getting up leave, a call came in from XB-1 Security. It was Mitchell Harwell himself, the director of security for all of XB-1. If he was calling directly it must be a matter of some urgency. Bill put it on speaker so Lara could listen in as well.

"Sir, we have a problem out on the west side of the island," the seasoned private security expert said without any particular excitement in his voice. Harwell's ability to stay cool in a crisis was why Durand hired him all those years ago. "It seems boy Zero-Two has attacked two of my guards."

Durand looked over his desk at Lara and raised an eyebrow. "Explain," he said, with equally measured calm and a bemused smile on his face.

"Well, sir, my men were there to remove the boy from the hot box for his scheduled ice bath. The moment they opened the box, Zero-Two charged out screaming. He punched Davidson in the gut then kicked Reed in the balls. He had those spiked gloves locked around his wrists, the ones we use to keep slave boys from masturbating… well turns out they make a nasty little weapon in the hands of an angry eleven-year-old. He cut them both up rather badly."

Durand couldn't help but smile at the image of the small and naked, but impressively muscular little lad, beating up two grown men literally twice his size. "Well, Zero-Two is our most aggressive boy gladiator. Your guards should know by now to be more careful when they handle that one. Make the boy apologize to them. Give him his ice bath and lock him back in the box. Add one more day to his sentence."

"Uhm, yes, sir," Harwell's voice indicated there was something more. "I'd, uhm, certainly do as you ask, sir, but at the moment Zero-Two seems to have gotten loose."

Durand's eyebrows raised again. This time in moderate alarm. "What do you mean loose?"

"Sir, the boy ran off after he attacked the guards. Our tracking system indicates he's somewhere in the woods. I've got a collection team and the dogs out after him, but we can't get four-wheelers in there, so they're pursuing the boy on foot. We've activated his shock collar several times to no effect. It's likely the previous ice-bath shorted it out. Sir, I must inform you he's headed toward the north end of the island."

William Durand paused and looked out the open doors to the veranda. There was only one structure on the northern side of Gladiator Island. The luxuriant Caribbean plantation-style home of the island's owner.

"So, you are telling me he's coming here."

"Yes, sir. I've got a second team en route to you right now. They should be in place before Zero-Two comes out of the woods, but I feel it my duty to warn you just in case he shows up in your back yard."

"Warn me? He's a child."

"Sir, the boy is violent and out of control. He took down two of my most experienced men. I believe you should consider him dangerous."

Chapter 42
Bad Boy, Good Gladiator

If William Durand was worried about this shocking turn of events it didn't show. He gazed across his desk at Lara Tomlinson. The young woman shifted nervously and cast her eyes to the open doors leading out to the veranda.

"Well it seems security has misplaced one of our gladiators," Durand said. "I think it would be safest if you were to remain here until he's back in custody."

Trevor, who had been keeping himself busy dusting and straightening the many valuable knick-knacks on his master's library shelves, moved close to Durand's side, a mixture of fear and excitement in his young eyes. Durand held the boy close and ran his hand reassuringly down the boy's back, patting his small firm speedo-clad butt.

"Do you think he's really coming here, sir?" Trevor asked in a hush.

At that moment the mansion's perimeter alarm sounded in the study, indicating that someone uninvited was getting too close to the house. A schematic of the home and grounds flashed up on the computer screen, indicating the general direction and location of the intruder. Durand smiled again and gently ushered Trevor toward Lara.

"Stay here and look after Ms. Tomlinson," he ordered. "Can you be a brave boy and do that for me?"

Trevor stood at attention and thrust his chest out proudly. Thanks to the testroxil, he still had the body of slim wispy prepubescent twelve-year-old, but he was fourteen and thought of himself as a young man in spite of all the evidence to the contrary. "Yes, master."

The boy blushed fiercely but immediately took up a position next to the attractive young lady. Lara could see the boy's chest rising and falling as he breathed rapidly. This was surely the most excitement he'd had in a long time, and the idea, outlandish though it was, of being Lara's fearless protector appealed to him immensely.

Durand stood in front of the open door to the veranda. In the distance he could hear the guard dogs barking as they searched the woods. Overhead there was the faint sound of a helicopter in the distance, moving closer and closer. A breezy wind gust blew in from the blue Caribbean, causing the low shrubbery around the porch to rustle for a moment. When the breeze had stopped, one of the larger rhododendron bushes was still rustling. Durand smirked and stepped out fully onto the porch, standing directly over the bush.

"You might as well come out, young man," he said in a gentle but authoritative voice. "If we wait until security gets here, it will be completely out of my hands."

The bush rustled again.

"Come on. Come on out. I don't bite. And I'm hoping you won't either. Let me see you."

Again the bush rustled, this time accompanied by a soft boyish groan. As Durand watched, a sweaty, dirty, naked eleven-year-old boy stood up from behind it and stared up at him with wild and terrified brown eyes. The boy's hunted expression was priceless, and Durand actually felt a small amount of pity for the filthy little creature.

"There now, little man. That wasn't so hard was it? Why don't you come up here on the porch so we can talk."

The boy seemed uncertain for a moment. The look in his eyes made it clear he was thinking about running off again, but the man's voice was gentle and he decided it was probably okay to trust him. Josh stepped fully out of his hiding place, no longer concerned about his nakedness, and slowly moved toward the steps. All the while he kept his dark brown eyes fixed on the tall man standing on the porch. It certainly had not been his plan to end up in the bushes outside William Durand's mansion, but here he was. And now what?

Durand studied the young boy as he climbed the steps. Slim, athletic, superbly muscular for a pre-teenager, with an exceptionally large penis swinging between his smooth hairless thighs. His skin was dirty and glistening with sweat and covered in bruises, welts, cuts and scrapes from his harsh life as a boy gladiator. The boy's blond hair was growing long, hanging in a sweat-soaked shaggy mop. On his chest, just above his right nipple the words 'Boy 02' were permanently tattooed. His left buttock was marked with the XB-1 logo, and a larger '02' was on the front of his right thigh. His sun-bronzed skin still showed the fading sponsor advertisements that had been painted on to him a week earlier. Iron wrist and ankle cuffs were locked around his slender limbs, and a thick iron collar was around his neck. His hands were currently incased in spiked leather mitts, meant to prevent him from playing with his oversized cock, but already proven effective as weapons against the island's guards. He held them out and down at his sides, but the boy's wary stance made it clear he was thinking he might have to use them again. There was something wild and untamed, perhaps even dangerous about this boy to be sure, but his young eyes showed confusion and an adorable vulnerability.

The muscular young boy stood on the porch now, his soulful eyes darting this way and that, like a young deer expecting a predator to swoop down on him from any direction at any moment.

Durand, who had remained perfectly still until this moment, slowly stepped closer to the little eleven-year-old boy gladiator. He towered over the young boy. Josh instinctively raised his hands, the sharp spikes on his gloves glinting in the tropical sun.

"You're not going to use those on me, are you?" Durand asked, keeping his voice calm and steady.

The naked eleven-year-old shook his head and lowered his hands to his sides once more.

"You're Joshua, right?"

Hearing his actual name caused an immediate change in the boy's manner. His expression softened and his young eyes danced and welled with tears. He quickly sniffled and hung his head and shoulders in defeat. "Yes, sir," he answered in a small high voice.

"Well, Joshua, I wasn't really expecting a little naked visitor today, especially one hiding out in my bushes."

Josh managed a nervous smile and didn't move.

"You've gotten yourself into a great deal of trouble, Josh. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," the boy replied, looking down at his bare dirty feet. "I messed things up pretty bad."

"I won't argue with that. Listen. You can hear the dogs in the woods. They've got your scent. They're coming for you."

Josh shivered. He didn't share his brother's phobia of dogs, but the island's canines were fearsome and unfriendly and all the boys feared them.

"And look up there," Durand continued, as a company-owned helicopter came into view over the palm trees. "They mean business, young man. They're going to capture you if you keep running. And you can't hide anywhere for long. It's really a rather small island. There is no escape." Durand then sighed and shook his head sadly. "You've broken so many rules today."

"What're they gonna do to me?"

"Well that's the question, young man, isn't it? And that's up to you. You can take your chances with the dogs and the chopper, and I guarantee you won't like what happens, or you can come inside and you and I can work something out. Hurry up. Once they spot you, it's out of my hands."

The helicopter was getting closer and hovering lower now, the baying of the dogs louder and more vigorous as they closed in on their young prey.

"I'll come inside, sir," Josh said, looking over his shoulder.

Durand smiled, laid his hands on the boy's bare shoulders and ushered him into the house. The cool air made Josh shiver, and all the high-tech gadgets on Durand's desk immediately caught the boy's eyes.

Trevor gasped in surprise when Durand brought Josh into the study. He'd never been this close to one of the boy gladiators before. He recognized this one as the younger of the two American brothers. Aside from being very sweaty and dirty, and being very muscular, there didn't seem to be anything particularly extraordinary about him, aside from his oversized cock that is. Trevor felt a twinge of bitterness and jealousy and he covered his tiny shrunken genitals with his hands.

Lara Tomlinson had never been this close to one of the boy gladiators either. In fact, since starting this project she had never once personally encountered any of them. Now one of the strong, wild, dirty, naked little creatures was standing a few feet in front of her.

First and foremost she noted how small he was. They looked bigger on television but this one was not even five feet [1½ m] tall. Next she was taken by how toned and muscular his hairless little body was. A trim, athletic, perfectly proportioned boy. She stared rather impolitely at the pre-teen boy's oversized penis, truly a remarkable organ, looking almost comically out of place on his lean slender boyish frame. And he was just a boy. Vulnerable, fragile, naked, collared and shackled. A slave. A boy gladiator. She couldn't recall which one this was. Knowing their individual names was really not a requirement for her job and she really hadn't cared. Up until this moment they were nothing more than company property to her, valuable assets to be sure, but objects nonetheless. Now, suddenly, it was different. There was a haunted, bewildered look in the boy's brown eyes as he darted his gaze all around the room. He had already seen and endured so much, in such a short time. He was trembling. He was scared.

Durand pressed a button on his phone. Mitchell Harwell, XB-1's security chief picked up on the other end. "Mitchell, you can call off the dogs and send the chopper back to base."

"Sir, I don't recommend that we do that until we have the boy in custody."

"The little fellow is standing in my study right now, Mitchell. Everything is under control."

"Sir, this is a matter of island security, and your personal welfare as well. I am charged with looking after both."

"And I'd say in this instance you've somewhat underestimated the tenacity an eleven-year-old boy. Who owns this particular island, Mr. Harwell?"

There was silence on the other end for a moment, until Harwell reluctantly conceded. "You do, sir. We're standing down now."

"Good. Have your men remain outside the perimeter until I call for them."

Josh breathed a visible sigh of relief as the droning of the helicopter began to fade away into the distance once again. He gazed up into Durand's strong and masterful eyes.

"So, Joshua, what are we going to do with you?"

"I don't know, sir," the boy replied, looking Durand square in the eyes. He was feeling more at ease now, if not still a bit frightened. At least no one was chasing him anymore. "They keep punishing me, but that doesn't seem to be working."

Durand smiled again as the boy continued to stare at him.

"Well, you've got spirit, Joshua, and I like that." He sat down at his desk and gestured the boy to come stand beside him.

Josh swallowed hard and obeyed. In this fancy luxurious room, he was suddenly feeling very self-conscious about his dirty nakedness, and that silly huge cock between his legs. Why couldn't he just have a regular dick like a regular kid? He gazed briefly at Trevor then blushed fiercely when his eyes met with Lara Tomlinson's.

"I believe you've met my boy Trevor before," Durand said, "if only from a distance."

Trevor offered a shy quiet, "Hi."

"Hi," Josh answered back in a soft high voice.

"And this young woman is Lara Tomlinson. You might say she's the brains behind the show. Gladiators was her idea. So you can thank her for making you a star."

Josh was silent for a moment, until Durand's iron grip on his arm indicated that the man's statement was not merely a suggestion.

"Thank you for making me a star, ma'am," he said, blushing red from ear to ear and casting his gaze down to his muddy bare feet.

"Now, young man, why don't you tell me exactly what you thought you were doing in my bushes?"

"Hiding, I guess, sir," the boy mumbled quietly, his chin pressed against his chest.

"And what ever possessed you to think you could run away from my guards?"

Josh shrugged his bare sun-bronzed shoulders.

"Why did you attack them?"

Again the boy shrugged. Durand ran his hand slowly down the boy's back and swatted him gently on his adorable little butt. "Come on now. I've seen enough of the show and read enough reports from your trainer to know you are always running your mouth. Let's try this again. Why did you attack my guards and run off like that?"

Josh kept his head bowed. This time the smack on his butt was a lot harder.

"Look at me when I talk to you, boy."

Josh sniffled and raised his swimming brown eyes to the man who for all legal purposes owned him. "I was mad at them, sir," he said, his voice small and unsure. "I was mad 'cause they put that vibrating thing up my butt and threw me into that ice and made fun of me 'cause I got a big dick. I was mad at Danny 'cause I thought he was my friend but he's really a jerk. I was mad at what they did to Chris. Everyone knows he's totally scared of dogs."

"Actually we did not know that," Durand said.

"I don't care, it still sucks!" the boy said. Clearly his well-defined eleven-year-old sense of fair and unfair had been deeply offended.

Lara laughed. Durand smiled. Josh glared.

"It ain't fuckin' funny," the boy practically shouted. Then he thought better about his outburst and added a considerably more humble, "sir," a few seconds later.

Lara grinned and winked at Durand. "Got a little mouth on him, doesn't he?"

"Indeed he does, my dear," William Durand replied, again studying this small adorable boy with the shaggy blonde hair. "He's our little firebrand. No wonder he's so popular."

"Only little Miles rates higher," Lara agreed, taking another moment to survey every bare naked inch of Joshua's hairless athletic body, "and that's likely just because of Miles' 'cuddly' factor. No one is going to call this one cuddly, are they, Josh?"

Josh darted his eyes to the beautiful young woman. He felt blood rushing to his ears, and blood was rushing to someplace else too as his boyhood began to swell to an obvious semi-erect state. "No one calls me cuddly, ma'am," he agreed.

"Apparently my chief of security is calling you dangerous," Durand said. "Are you dangerous, Joshua?"

Joshua smiled for the first time. He liked the idea of being dangerous. He liked that idea a lot! "I'm a boy gladiator," he said, pointing a finger at his own chest. "And I'm a total bad-ass!"

"That you are." Durand pulled up Joshua's file on the computer, as well as a copy of the boy's contract of indenture. As of this exact moment, no other boy gladiator had earned more demerits than young Josh.

"Here's the problem, Joshua. You seem to like going out of your way to break the rules, even if you don't do it intentionally. It's your nature, and I like that, but today, in just the last hour or so, you've violated your contract in a rather stupid and serious way."

Josh's little smile disappeared as he stared at the data on the computer screen. Most of it was meaningless to the eleven-year-old gladiator.

"By rights, I can declare you in breach of contract right now. Do you know what that would mean?"

"I… I maybe get to go back home?"

"Certainly not. It means the company can claim you as a permanent slave. We would castrate you and turn you into one of the mules, or sell you to one of our partners."

Josh's eyes grew wide.

"You know what the word 'castrate' means, don't you, Joshua?"

The eleven-year-old swallowed hard. "It means you'd… you'd cut off my balls, sir."

"That's right. It's the best way to calm a fractious boy like you. You'd never be freed. You'd live the rest of your life as a slave, and, depending whom we sell you to, that might not be very long. The medical industry is always looking for slave boys to experiment on."

Josh's eyes flashed with terror and he immediately started to cry.

"P… pleeease, don't do that to me! Pleeeease! I'll be a good boy from now on, I promise!"

"You can't be a good boy, Joshua. Breaking the rules is part of who you are. Permanent slavery might be the only option for you. You see I really won't have a choice. It's right here in the contract." Durand winked at Lara again.

'You evil bastard,' Lara thought, but she was loving every moment of it.

Devastated by this horrifying news, the little boy sniffled and sobbed. Durand gently caressed his bare butt once again.

"There, there, no need to cry. I think I've got an idea that might get us both out of this little mess. But you have to trust me. Will you trust me?"

Josh wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand and nodded his head in eager agreement.

"Then here's the deal, Joshie," Bill Durand said. He locked his hands around the boy's upper arms and pulled him close. "I want you to be the meanest, wildest, angriest, baddest boy gladiator on the island. I want the other boys to fear you. I want the trainers to hate you. I want the audience to hate you too. I want you to cuss and snarl and fight dirty. I want you to cheat if you have to, and I want you to win at all costs, even if that means you have to hurt one of the other boys."

Josh's eyes danced as he took all this in and he nodded his head vigorously that he was getting the idea.

"I'm going to give you a new nickname today. From now on you'll be known as the Raptor."

"Like those cool little dinosaurs, sir?" Josh asked excitedly, his high voice pitching up even higher.

Durand nodded. "Just like those. Raptors had sharp teeth and sharp tallons, just like those nasty spikes on your mitts, which you'll be wearing permanently from now on, even in competition. We're going to reshape your canines too and give you real fangs."

"Cool!" Josh grinned, liking this idea more and more every second.

"No more chastity belt. We're going to put that big cock of yours into a special cage with sharp spikes inside and out. The cage will have a special cover for your balls too. It'll be welded in place so it can never come off. You won't be allowed to have a single erection, not ever, until the day you leave this island."

Josh wasn't too sure he liked that idea as much, but he figured it was small price to pay to adopt this awesome new identity. He was gonna be the bad guy. And he was gonna be good at it!

"You see, Joshua, I'm going to want you wild and untamed and totally ruthless when you compete. Keeping your cock caged and frustrated will help you do that. We'll cut your milkings down to a minimum. Just enough to keep your plumbing working properly. You'll be so horny it'll almost drive you insane."

Josh was sure now he was gonna hate that part, but he had already experienced the odd sensation of extra strength and aggression that having his cock locked up would produce during competitions. He'd already run farther, pushed harder and performed better with his boyhood constrained inside its snug chastity belt than he'd ever done back home when he, and his cock, was free.

"I'm gonna be the Raptor!" Josh said, happier than he'd been in weeks. His penis was fully erect now, six impressive inches [15 cm] of boyflesh throbbing insistently between his smooth shapely thighs. The eleven-year-old was presently so excited that he wasn't even aware of his boner.

Lara was sitting spellbound, watching and listening as William Durand, on the spot, was unfolding this exciting new wrinkle and re-inventing the entire show. 'He's a genius. That's why he's the boss. God, he's sexy. Too bad he only likes boys.'

"You're gonna be the Raptor," Durand continued. "We'll mark your face and body in some way too. Anthony can do some tattoo work to make you look even more frightening."

"Sweet!"

"But there are rules, Josh. Special rules just for you. Rules you have to follow if this is going to work. I'm counting on you to use your brains as much as your heart."

Josh calmed down immediately and his sweet lightly freckled face became serious. "What are my rules, sir?"

"Well first of all, no more attacking my guards or running off into the woods. Raptors were smart, not stupid, and they never picked fights they couldn't win. You won't either. You need to be smart. Smarter than your trainers, smarter than the other gladiators."

"I am smart."

"Then start acting like it."

"Yes, sir."

"From now on I want you causing all your mayhem in the arena or during training… whenever the cameras are running. Got it?"

The boys were so deeply and hopelessly immersed in the harsh daily reality of life on the island that it was easy for them to forget that they were, in fact, the stars of a worldwide media phenomenon. Little Miles was the only one of them who'd really figured this out so far, but now Josh was starting to get it too.

"Yeah. Like, I'm the bad guy. So I gotta play the bad guy when we're on TV, but the rest of the time it'd just be sorta stupid, right?"

"Right. You are smart."

"Told ya."

"Now comes the hard part. Being the Raptor means you're going to keep breaking a lot of the rules, and that means you'll be punished a lot. You'll just have to endure that, whatever they do to you, and come out of it even wilder than before."

"I can do that," Josh said.

"You'll be kept in much stricter restraints while you're in the barracks or being moved from place to place. The trainers are going to really start treating you like a little animal."

Josh smirked, bared his teeth and let out a little growl.

"But there will be rewards. If you're good at this, I'll see to it personally that you get special privileges. I met even let you take some time off and go on some publicity trips with me. Do we have a deal, Raptor?"

Josh nodded sharply. "Deal."

"Good. I'm going to call for security now and they'll take you into custody. You'll finish your last two days in the hot box, but rather than send you to the work with the mules for a week, we'll use that time for your physical transformation. Some of it will be rather painful for you, but when it's done, you'll be my perfect little Raptor."

"Okay."

"That's my boy. Now I think it would be best if you were to get on your knees and put your hands behind your head. Don't put up a fight when they come for you. Save that for later."

"Yes, sir," Josh said. He immediately dropped to his knees and assumed the required position.

"They're going to chain you rather heavily, lock you back in your chastity belt, and probably muzzle you too. I'm quite sure they're going to rough you up a bit, just to teach you a lesson. Don't be frightened. They're just mad and embarrassed that you made them all look like fools today."

Josh smiled as he knelt there next to Durand's desk. "I kinda did, didn't I? I guess I've been the bad guy the whole time!"

"You are who you are. We're just going to make it official from now on." Durand pressed a contact on his desk. The euphemistically phrased 'collection team' which had surrounded the house for the last ten minutes or so, rushed onto the veranda. Three guards armed with shock-sticks stopped at the open doors to the study. Durand was there to greet them.

"He's right in here," he said, pointing to the small naked boy kneeling on the floor. Josh hardly looked like a threat. But two of the guards bore cuts across their faces, evidence of the boy's handiwork with the spiked mitts. "Do what you have to do, but not in front of the lady," Durand told them in a low voice.

One of the guards pulled Josh to his feet by his collar and dragged him out to the veranda. Durand slowly followed behind them and closed the doors. The boy stood perfectly still, with his head bowed while they shackled his ankles and started to remove the spiked mitts from his hands.

"No," Durand said icily. "Those stay on at all times."

The guards were clearly not happy, but had no choice but to obey their wealthy employer. They roughly yanked Josh's arms behind him and cuffed his wrists. Josh yelped in pain as he felt his shoulders in danger of being pulled from their sockets.

"Bring the forearm straps and the thigh cuffs," one of the guards shouted to the men still outside.

Moments later, Josh's upper arms were bound behind his back as well, putting even more strain on his young shoulders. He winced, but made no further protest. He was gonna show his new mentor and the guards just how tough he was. The boy's thighs were cuffed next, joined together by a very short very thick six-inch [15 cm] chain, effectively hobbling the four-foot-six-inch [1.37 m] tall pre-teen. As Durand had predicted, a muzzle was placed over his mouth, obscuring much of the boy's face. Finally the boy was strapped back into his chastity belt and a heavy chain was attached to his collar.

"Take the boy back to the hot box. He won't give you any further trouble. We have an agreement, don't we, Josh?"

Muzzled and bound now in heavy chains the muscular little eleven-year-old nodded sharply.

"You may discipline him if he acts up, but if I find you've abused him unnecessarily, you'll find yourselves in a raft floating back home. Am I clear?"

The guards had certainly hoped their re-capture of the little miscreant would grant them license to take a measure of revenge on the young troublemaker. Now this was not to be. It was impossible for them to hide their disappointment, but they were professionals, and they valued their fortune to be assigned to Gladiator Island. They did give their employer a puzzled questioning glance. Odd that he, the notoriously perverted William Durand, should be demanding mercy for a runaway slaveboy.

"I have special plans for this one. That is all you need to know. Now take him away."

The guards saluted and Josh was dragged along on the chain behind them. He would end up back on the beach and back in hot box number three, this time still bound in the heavy irons, chains, muzzle and chastity belt, his arms still tightly secured behind him. The vibrating plug was again shoved into his rectum, buzzing away against his immature prostate. He made one slight half-hearted effort to resist when they were putting him back inside, but his mind was far away, thinking about how very soon he wasn't going to be Josh Andrews anymore, but Raptor. As the door to the box was closed and locked, the eleven-year-old smiled into his muzzle and felt the familiar tightness in the confines of his chastity belt as his penis started to get hard. Normally the sharp sting of the spikes was enough to soften it again, but this time, strangely, the added pain seemed to stir him even more.

"Any damage, doc?" Jason asked as Doctor Trench examined Christopher's violated ass. The boy was up on one of the stainless steel exam tables, on his hands and knees, with his wrists and ankles locked in place with padded medical restraints. The doctor was presently using her gloved hand to give the thirteen-year-old boy's rectum a thorough inspection. His caged cock was swollen and starting to leak again as it dangled helplessly between his smooth hairless thighs. Chris was very sore back there, and the pain and humiliation of being fingered by the island's female physician was causing him even more distress. Tears were filling his blue eyes and he sniffled miserably. A terrible, frightening, horrible fact was beginning to dawn on him.

'I totally fucking suck as a gladiator. I never should have gotten me and Josh into this.'

"He'll be fine, Jason. There's a little redness and swelling, but that's normal for a boy with a well-fucked ass. There is a little tearing and stretching of the sphincter, but it will heal on its own. You can see how far the doggies stretched him."

Jason studied the boy's ravaged hole and had to agree. "Yeah, he's open for business back there right now. I really want to get him plugged and back in action as soon as possible. Anything we can do to speed things up a bit?"

"I can give him an injection that'll take the swelling down and tighten him back up a bit. It has to go right into his little ring though and it hurts like hell."

"So?"

Trench smiled and nodded and asked one of her lovely young assistants to fill a syringe with the necessary solution.

By now, Chris was used to people talking about him and discussing his body as if he were merely an animal, but he shivered a bit with the knowledge that he was about to get a shot right in his hole.

"It's a good thing we've already got him restrained," Trench said. "Boys usually buck around like crazy when we do this."

Jason moved round to the front of the exam table and clasped Chris' head between his hands, forcing the boy to look at him. "I'm tired of all your whining and moaning today. You're gonna keep still and keep your mouth shut and take this like a man, got it? If I hear one little peep out of you, I'm gonna have the doctor sew your mouth shut."

Chris' eyes widened with terror.

"Think I'm kidding?"

"Sir, no, sir," the poor hapless boy stammered.

Jason nodded to Doctor Trench, who promptly primed the needle and took aim at the young teen boy's stretched and ruined hole.

Chris could feel the cold tip of the needle pressing against his most sensitive flesh. He tensed and closed his eyes, and then the doctor pushed the thick needle into him. Chris did his best. He really did. But the pain was unbearable. He bit his tongue, his sucked in his lips, tears streamed from his eyes and finally, after several seconds of blinding agony, he pulled wildly against his restraints and let out a soft high-pitched whimper.

Jason was furious. He grabbed a handful of the boy's long filthy blond hair and pulled Chris' head back. "I warned you! Doc, I want this boy's mouth wired shut. Right now! Sew up his lips too while you're at it!"

Trench was just pulling the big heavy needle out of the boy's butt, but her eyes lit up with delight. She truly loved her job. She'd been specializing in slave boy veterinary medicine since her days as an intern. She had thus seen and performed just about every procedure, mundane or extreme that could possibly be performed on a young boy. She ran her fingers gently along the inside of Chris' right thigh up along his hairless perineum and back down over his left thigh, all the while careful not to touch the boy's caged genitals. A quick glance at the boy's anus revealed that the injection was already having an effect as his little ring was tightening on its own. The boy moaned and wiggled in his restraints, clearly feeling the effects of the latest drugs to be shot into his body.

"Wired shut?" she mused, still seated behind the boy but looking over his naked body at Jason now. She continued to gently stroke the thirteen-year-old's smooth thigh. "Yeah, we can do that. If you want permanent anchors put in his mouth, I'll have to call in a specialist, but if wired braces and brackets will do, I can get that done in a few minutes."

"Braces are fine, and permanent enough. As long as I can have him wired whenever I want to, or whenever the little shit deserves it."

Trench smiled as she set the empty syringe down on the steel table. A long stream of pre-cum was dangling from the end of Chris' cock-cage now. "Sewing the boy's lips shut will take a bit longer. It's a fairly common procedure for mouthy slave boys, but we have to use steel wire so he doesn't get an infection. I'd say I can have the whole procedure complete in about an hour."

"Whatever it takes, doc. Just get it done, okay?"

"Fine. Everything's looking good back here." She gave Chris a firm smack on the butt and turned to Karin, her assistant this day. "Go ahead and put the boy's plug back in, dear, then bring him along to room five. Jason, there's no need for you to stay unless you have nothing else to do. The procedure is rather mundane and I'm sure he'll be on his best behavior for us."

Jason nodded. As head trainer he did have a lot to do, most notably setting up the arrival and training schedule for the new gladiators scheduled to reach the island next week. He gave Chris a quick slap across the cheek.

"You behave yourself for the nice ladies, boy, and I'll be back for you soon."

Chris sniffled again and gave Jason one last pleading look, hoping he could escape his threatened punishment.

"Don't give me that look, boy. I told you what would happen if you made a sound, and you couldn't even follow that simple order. You are becoming a major disappointment. I expected so much more from you, Chris. I'm going to have to consider your future here."

Chris stared after his trainer as the man walked away. 'My future? What's he mean by that?' But Chris didn't have much time to think about Jason's ominous words as his butt-plug was shoved back inside him and he was marched into one of the small operating rooms and chained face-up to the table. A thick leather strap was tightened over his forehead, immobilizing him for the upcoming procedure. He gazed at Doctor Trench with wide frightened eyes as a large dental clamp was inserted into his mouth and opened to its widest point, stretching the boy's lips wide and forcing his mouth open and gaping.

"This part won't hurt, boy," she explained gently, "but when we sew your lips shut, you'll be wishing you were dead."

Chris' eyes watered, but he was determined to be brave. For the next few minutes, he lay there on the table, arms, legs and head strapped down as the doctor and her assistant worked on his mouth. He could not see what was going on, but he could feel things being placed over his teeth and slowly tightened. He groaned softly. He'd never worn braces, but he was getting them now on his back teeth.

Doctor Trench was instructing her young assistant, talking about Chris as if he were not in the room, something the boy had grown accustomed to since his arrival on the island.

"Once the bonding agent dries, the braces on his molars will be more or less permanent."

"How long do we have to wait?" Karin asked, peering into the young boy's gaping mouth.

"Just a few minutes. We'll use a heat-gun on them." Trench produced the device, a small pen with a glowing red tip. "This will speed things along. Keep still, boy," she warned as she put the device into Chris' mouth and touched it to each of the stainless shiny braces which now encapsulated his back teeth. He could feel the heat in his mouth and started to sweat. He was trembling as he lay strapped down and helpless.

"Seems quite easy, Doctor," Karin observed.

"Yes, it's a very common procedure performed on young slave and indentured boys. When a boy is first enslaved he often forgets that he is to keep his mouth shut. Frankly all of our young gladiators here a bit mouthy. This should set an example for the rest of the filthy little beasts. There, those should hold now. Would you get me some wire, please?"

Trench removed the clamp from the boy's mouth and Chris slowly closed his aching jaw. The doctor then produced a second type of clamp, this one designed to pull the boy's lips back, exposing the boy's teeth and gums and giving her full access to the newly installed braces. She made quick work of looping the wires between the boy's upper and lower teeth, trimming, tightening and smoothing down the loose ends so the boy would not cut the inside of his mouth on them. The clamps holding the thirteen-year-old's lips were removed. Chris immediately realized that while he could spread his lips, he could not open his mouth! His blue eyes filled with panic and he let out a frightened whimper as he writhed against the restraints.

Doctor Trench's calm bemused expression did not change as Chris struggled in vain to get his mouth open. The boy's reaction was typical. "They always panic when they realize they can't open their mouths," she told her assistant. "Now lets work on sewing his lips together. This procedure is somewhat more complicated. Tighten all of his straps, please. The boy has to be completely immobilized."

Karin busily obeyed her mentor, pulling the medical restraints even tighter and adding one over the boy's chest and another across his waist. Chris stared up at them with pleading eyes. Trench laughed.

"I love that look in their eyes. Just like frightened little animals. Look, he knows what's about to happen."

Trench instructed Karin to spray the boy's lips with a small amount of a topical numbing solution, just enough to dull the pain a bit, but not enough to deaden it entirely.

"Not too much. We want him to feel it."

"Yes, doctor."

"I normally don't numb them at all, but I have a feeling this one might freak out on us if we don't. The company has invested way too much money in him to have him hurt himself thrashing around like a fish on a hook."

Chris' lips were all tingly. They felt weird and rubbery and he was slobbering uncontrollably. The boy then got one look at the long thin needle that would be used to pierce his lips. It looked like a sewing needle, and the tip was glowing red hot. Chris promptly passed out.

"We'll have none of that, young man," Doctor Trench said as she gazed down at the unconscious thirteen-year-old's lean naked body. A few quick passes of smelling salts under his nose and Chris was once again brought back to the world of the waking. Though it was certainly a nightmare he was currently experiencing.

With his head, neck and chest now completely immobilized, the doctor began to slowly pierce the boy's upper lip, forcing the thin heated needle completely through it and then repeating the procedure every ¼ inch [6 mm], reheating the needle as it cooled. The bleeding was minimal. The boy's terror was extreme. He was trembling and straining against his bonds, moaning plaintively. He felt sick to his stomach and wondered in terror what would happen if he puked while his mouth was wired shut. He lost control of his bladder and peed all over the stainless steel table. He could hear it running off the side and piddling onto the floor.

"Boys," Trench sighed as the frightened thirteen-year-old emptied his bladder. "They really can't control themselves. Such pathetic little creatures."

Chris now had ten small holes pierced in the flesh above his upper lip. Doctor Trench now repeated the procedure on the boy's lower lip, off-setting the positions of the lower piercings a bit so it would be easier to sew the young teen's lips together. The pain from each successive piercing was not all that bad, like being stuck with thumbtack, but the combined effect was building into a crescendo of agony for the boy. Tears were streaming freely from his blue eyes now and he was openly sobbing. Trench applied a sanitizing wipe and cleaned away the small amount of blood. Chris sniffled and whimpered. Trench ignored his distress.

"These will start to close very quickly, so we have to hurry. Bring me more dental wire, my dear," she instructed her assistant.

Karin immediately stood by with more of the thin slender silvery wire that was already forcing the boy's mouth shut from within. Now it would be closed from the outside as well. "How is he supposed to eat or drink, doctor?" she asked.

"He can take water through a little straw. As far as nutrition, we'll have to feed him intravenously until Jason decides to cut the wires."

"How long can a boy be kept like this?"

Doctor Trench was impressed at her young aide's perceptive question. "Indefinitely, my dear. Everything inside and outside the boy's mouth is perfectly sterile. There'll be no risk of infection. There's no compelling reason for any of his new dental work to ever be removed."

Trench stared directly into Chris' dancing blue eyes when she said this. He sniffled and sobbed miserably.

"That's right. You heard me. We can keep you like this for weeks or months, even years. Would you like that?"

Chris was unable to move his head, but the rapid darting of his sad tear-filled eyes and another little trickle of piss streaming out of his imprisoned cock was a clear and unambiguous answer.

Doctor Trench worked quickly and surprisingly gently, using the threadlike steel wire to methodically sew the boy's lips closed. "You have to be cautious here," she instructed her young protégé. "It is very easy to rip one of the piercings open. If you do, there'll be a lot of blood and you'll have to start over again. After the boy stops screaming of course."

After several minutes, accompanied by woeful whimpers and sobs from the boy, Doctor Trench at last finished her work. Thirteen-year-old Chris how had a mouth full of metal keeping his jaws locked. But no one could actually see this, for adorning his soft pink lips there was now the equivalent of a steel cage forcing them tightly closed. It was grotesque and horrific, yet inescapably erotic.

"He looks amazing that way," Karen said.

"Yes he does. Imagine what the viewers will think when they see this."

Trench herself released Chris from the restraints. "Get up, boy."

Chris was dizzy and woozy when he first got back into his feet. The numbing spray had worn off and his lips felt like they were on fire. He whimpered again and gave the doctor a pleading look.

"You'll get used to it. Take him outside and chain up to the wall until Jason comes for him. No reason to keep him here."

Karin locked the heavy chain to Chris' collar once again and pulled him along behind her, practically dragging the stumbling boy outside. There she connected the chain to one of several steel rings mounted to the concrete wall of the medical building. Chris had enough slack that he could kneel, and Karin forced him down onto his knees.

"Hands behind your back," she ordered.

Chris obeyed and immediately felt the cold unforgiving grip of handcuffs. Karen ratcheted them tightly against the boy's slender wrists.

"Can't have you fiddling with all your nice new dental work, can we?" she patted him on the head. "I'll be back with some water for you if you're good and keep quiet."

Chris was very thirsty and nodded vigorously that he would be on his best behavior.

Chris sat out there in the blistering sun for more than an hour before Jason finally came back for him. "Well, you won't be sucking any cocks for a while, will you?" Jason said with a laugh when he first saw Chris with his lips sewn shut.

Sweaty and hot having spent the last hour chained to the wall, Chris only hung his head in shame and humiliation.

"No. None of that. I want everyone to see the doctor's handiwork. You'll be a good example to all the other boys. You've all been getting a little too talkative lately. Won't be a problem for you now, will it?"

Chris sniffled and miserably shook his head.

"If I unlock those handcuffs, will you leave things alone?"

A look of hope flashed across the thirteen-year-old's face and he eagerly nodded 'Yes'.

"If I see you even trying to touch your lips, I'll put your hands in mitts for the next six months. Don't think I'm kidding."

Chris knew that Jason was deadly serious. He looked up into his trainer's eyes, hoping for just a glimpse of the kindness and mercy he could sometimes fathom there. No such luck today. At that moment an XB-1 helicopter came in low over the trees behind the medical building. Chris was used to seeing them circling during competitions, filming everything from above, but this one didn't look like those did. It was all black with red lettering on the tail. He pointed at it and gave Jason a questioning glance.

"That's none of your business boy, unless you'd like me to sew your eyes shut too."

Chris' eyes grew wide and he quickly cast his gaze to his feet.

"That's better." Jason released the chain from the wall and pulled the boy to his feet. He adjusted the erection in his pants and decided Chris was in need of a good fucking. And that he was just the man to do it. He pulled the boy along on the chain and headed for one of the special training rooms.

Chris saw several of the island's armed guards heading out on four-wheelers into the woods. Something was clearly going on.

'Maybe one of us escaped,' he thought to himself, unaware that at that precise moment his little brother was hiding behind William Durand's bushes. 'Ha! Like that would ever happen!'

"Something funny, boy?" Jason asked as he keyed open the door to the training room and flicked on the light.

Chris vehemently shook his head. Jason removed the chain from the young gladiator's collar and with his hands locked firmly around the naked thirteen-year-old's shoulders he marched the boy into the room and pushed him unceremoniously into the bed. Chris watched with nervous eyes as Jason quickly undressed. An instant later he was standing in front of the boy, his massive erection oozing pre-cum and throbbing with need. Jason's balls were huge, and Chris knew they would very soon be emptied inside him.

"On your hands and knees, boy, and spread 'em wide. I don't have a lot of time, but I want that hot little ass of yours. Lets see how well that shot tightened you back up."

`Before Chris could even get in position Jason was forcing himself on him. Jason yanked the plug forcefully out of the boy's butt. Chris wailed, but the wires kept his lips and mouth tightly shut. He whined and tried to resist for a moment, but Jason was far too strong for the half-grown young teen. He felt Jason's massive cock impaling him in one single angry thrust. Jason power-fucked the hapless boy for a good fifteen minutes, pausing only to smack Chris' butt whenever the boy was wiggling around too much.

"Keep still, you little bitch, and take it."

Chris really had no choice in the matter but to obey. His only consolation was that Jason didn't last long and that the feeling of his trainer's big hard meaty cock assaulting his young overactive prostate was driving him very close to some strange sort of climax.

And he did cum. Mewling like a kitten and spewing his teenaged spunk as his caged cock throbbed helplessly and went into violent spasms within its tiny metal cage. It was a frustrating and agonizing way to have a cum. But it was a cum, and it felt good enough.

Jason came just a few seconds after the boy, filling the young teen with his seed. He pulled out swiftly, wiped his cock on the boy's ass and shoved the plug back into Chris' butt. "You can keep my fuck-snot inside you the rest of the day. Now grab a rag and wipe up your mess, you filthy little beast."

'At least he can't make me lick it up anymore,' Chris mused as he wiped the mattress down. It was already stained with cum, and blood, and sweat, and piss, and maybe some other stuff too. Chris wasn't sure and he didn't want to know. Chris was not the first boy to be fucked on this particular bed in this harsh and loveless manner and he would certainly not be the last.

Istari had no time or inspiration for years to continue his story. However, BoyMaster took the challenge to continue the story: thus:

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