Two days ago everything was looking good but my luck has turned sour. My plan was simple. I hitch to the city, find a job helping out in a small store, and find some free spirited guys to hang with and we party in our apartment forever. I left home with two sandwiches, a big can of Pringles, and three diet Cokes. I am not stupid; I brought a jacket, just in case.

See, my step-dad, Walter, is an asshole. My mom went to the hospital for detox and he decided to get all authority on me. Do the dishes; clean my room and the living room immediately on return from school. Homework must be done before he gets home from work. He will be exhausted from being a traffic control flagman on a road construction crew. He brings home dinner that we stretch because it will also be his and my lunch the following day. He decides what we watch on TV and if I can go to my room to read or play video games. My disposition is not based on my behavior or completion of my tasks but if he needs me to bring his beer from the fridge or change the channels because of our broken remote. What my behavior gets is me sitting on my bed at 9:30 every night, wearing nothing but my 'Y' front BVDs, and waiting for him to decide if I have earned a spanking for that day.

I get the spanking if he has had a bad day at work, usually from an ass chewing for fucking off, I have failed to satisfy with any of my chores, or he goes through my school pack and is dissatisfied by what he sees there. He is too stupid to check my work but he can tell if I have to have some paper signed by a parent for bad marks. The spankings are always on the bare with my underwear around my ankles and are either to my bare ass with his big fat hands or across my legs with his bamboo switch. He laughs at how my junk jiggles up and down as I dance while he whips my legs. I try not too, but I usually cry myself to sleep almost every night. Fuck him.

I decided to run away after my last whipping when I covered my junk by mistake when I was being whipped. I got hard by accident and was embarrassed. This made him mad for some reason and he squashed my junk in one hand, holding me as I danced for the rest of the whipping. I think it was his laughing as he walked away after his was done, leaving me on the floor naked and holding my sore junk that made me decide to go.

I got picked up almost immediately once I got to the highway by a nice trucker. He was old, in his sixties he said, and was great to be with, except he smoked up a storm. He gave me a lot of advice, that I only half listened to, about what and who to avoid in the city, that I should check in to a homeless shelter early before they filled up, avoid group foster care homes at all costs, and how to pick the proper type of street to rob others. He told me to never pull my knife to threaten. If I pulled out my knife it was only to stab someone and run like hell. I kept quiet about my plan to get a job after he laughed about my plan to find an apartment with friends. I didn't tell him I didn't have a knife or any other weapon, I hadn't thought of that before I left home. He gave me a twenty-dollar bill when he left me off.

Two days of trudging along more streets then I can remember, sleeping bundled up in an alley, and being pushed out of store after store and given a back hand across the head for asking for a job and I was pretty low. I was surprised that the twenty, along with the $3.75 I had from home only got me less of a supper and a breakfast then I got at home. My homemade sandwiches and snacks didn't last me through my first night. I was damn hungry and was re-thinking the trucker's advice about being a thief.

I was on a corner and watching shoppers stroll by and thinking about grab plans and escape routes when this kid about my age walked up to me. He, like me, was a little dirty, and like me, his clothes were many years from being on a Salvation Army Store clothes rack. He didn't look at me but said quietly out of the corner of his mouth that there was a policeman watching me and two pickpockets who worked this street were watching me also. He suggested that I would be better off being smacked around by the cop then what the two thugs would do to me.

I started to tell him to 'fuck off' but saw a policeman standing down the street rocking on his heels, and looking everywhere but at me. I knew I had been made. I whispered 'thanks' and started to move off when he put a hand on me. He said that if I needed a meal and a safe place to stay I should follow him. He then started to stroll down the street like he didn't have a care in the world. I hesitated, then shrugged, and followed. I wished I had spent that twenty dollars on a knife instead of food.

A short walk later we came to a big three-story old looking house with only a narrow stoop separating it from the curb. Sitting on the steps was some weird looking kid. I don't mean weird ugly but everything about him was weird. First, he looked like a fashion model. His hair was perfectly cut and combed and he wore a three-piece suit that looked expensive and fit him perfectly. He had on highly shined brown leather shoes and his hands were clean and obviously manicured to perfection. The weird was this perfect boy was sitting on the stairs in front of a ratty looking house and what he was doing with his facial features.

His skin was perfect all right and he could only be called very handsome when a car came by. I noticed he looked perky and smiling when there was a car coming but forlorn and sad once it passed by. My friend didn't say anything to him but just sat by his side companionly close and looking sad like him. The handsome boy was like a robot. Smile perky then frown time after time.

Then he stiffened as a limo turned onto the street. He stood up quickly, his smile now broad and deep. He stood at attention and whispered urgently to my friend, "Am I perfect?" My new friend looked him over closely and wiped a totally unnecessary sleeve across the boy's shoe and said, "Perfect, man! You can do this!"

The limo stopped and the boy marched to the door. A man opened the door and the boy said with sort of a bow, "Good afternoon, Sir. I hope you have had a special day." He said this with his smile plastered firmly on his face.

The man grunted and snapped his fingers. "Get in. On your knees." The boy quickly places a handkerchief on the floor in front of the man and climbed in to kneel in front of him. The door slammed as the limo sped off.

"What a weird kid," I said as I sat down beside my new friend into the spot the weirdo had just vacated.

My friend turned to me scowling. "Rule one in this house. We don't pick on each other and we never criticize what a guy has to do to get by."

"Okay, okay! I said. "Don't get a hard-on about it."

My friend just looked straight ahead and said, "They take him to a mansion or something. They inspect him all over. Everything about him has to be perfect or he is punished. Then he has supper with the men. Again everything he says or does, how he carries himself and smiles, has to be perfect. After supper they judge him again. If he has made any mistake, was in any way not perfect, they make him take off and carefully fold his clothing and he is taken to a dungeon and tortured. If he manages to do everything perfectly the men take him to a bed and one or more at a time rape him as roughly as they can. Anyway, he returns in the morning in pretty bad shape. They take him about once a week.

"Why does he go? Why doesn't he just tell them to fuck off?"

"Come on inside. I will show you."

We enter the unlocked door and to first thing I see is a wonderful front room. There are lounging chairs and huge monitors and computers. My friend sweeps his hand and says, "work stations around the room." I can see boys at some stations. Some are in virtual reality and some are obviously playing multiplayer role-playing games. There are sodas and snacks spread around. My friend spreads his hands around and says, "All of this. All this stuff is from the scars on his back and his sore ass. Peter Pan gives us basic food and shelter and Indiana Jones gives us our perks."

I assume Indiana Jones is what they call the perfect boy and I wonder who Peter Pan is. I snort, trying to seem unimpressed and say, "What about Indiana's dad? Couldn't he go to him and get out of this?"

"Indiana's dad is one of the men who take him away," my friend says quietly.

I am saved from thinking of something to say by a teenager entering the room. He looks to be around sixteen and looks to be a stereotypically high school jock. "Hey squirt!" he says, giving my friend a friendly shove. "What is this? New blood?"

"Yeah, I haven't even named him yet. Where are you going?"

"Don't give me that shit, you little dweeb. You know you volunteered to do my kitchen rotation tonight so I can study for the SATs."

My friend turns to me and grins, "Big man here is up for real early admission to college. Wants to be a doctor or something. I think he wants to be a proctologist to try to figure out how to get his head out of his ass."

The big kid turns to me and says with a bigger grin, "Hey new kid! Want to see what happens to an asshole when you tie a rope around his balls and throw him off the roof?"

My friend pulls me by the arm and we walk away with him saying over his shoulder, "Lets go friend. Some people have No Sense of Humor and I want to introduce you to Peter Pan."

As we climb the stairs to the third floor I ask my friend, "What did you mean, you haven't named me yet?" My name is Randy."

"No it isn't. I am called 'The Artful Dodger'."

Conversation stops when we reach the floor. There are framed pictures all over the walls. I recognize the kids who played Ender in that Sci-Fi movie and Young Sheldon. There are a lot of kid actors I don't recognize or don't remember if they were in a show or movie but on a door at the end of the hall is that kid who played Peter Pan. He is standing proud in a big poster and dressed in that Ivy costume that you could not pay me to wear. The Artful Dodger knocks once and goes into the room.

There is a man in a bathrobe sitting in front of a computer and the computer is making a picture of a naked boy on his back with his legs up over his shoulders. There is a hand in the picture holding a paddle with holes in it. The man turns and sees me staring at the screen. He turns back and minimizes the image, "This is a 3D rendering, and I can assure you that only electrons were hurt in the creation of this image."

"This is Peter Pan," The Artful Dodger says butting in. "He owns this house and takes care of all of us. He is a pedo-plus, a pelo-file, or something."

"The word is 'Pedophile', you little scamp, and you know it. Don't pretend to be uneducated. It is undignified." He turns to me, "I prefer the term 'Boy-lover'. It has so much better connotations in these troubling times. And don't you worry. I will not do anything with you that you don't 100% want. Has Jack given you a name yet?"

I start to say, "Rand…" and Dodger interrupts with, "No it is not. He is named 'Oliver' for Oliver Twist."

"Excellent choice, if he accepts, Dodger. Mark Lester, the third picture on the right in the hall, was one of the best 'Oliver's' I've seen. You know Oliver that Dodger here is giving you quite an honor. Oliver Twist is the Artful Dodger's best friend and because he gives the name to you and we are quite crowded here right now, I think he is volunteering to share his room with you."

"Hey," Dodger says indignantly. "Indiana Jones is my roommate already!"

"I am afraid that the Internet buzz is that his father has suffered some business reverses lately and young Matthew will be very badly used as the man works off his frustrations tonight. Indiana will be given The Hulk's room next to yours to recover, and young David will room with me as I help him study for his exams."

We are dismissed and I guide the Artful Dodger from the room and he appears stunned. In the hall he slumps and starts to cry. "I hate him. God, I hate him with a passion that burns my guts inside!"

"You hate Peter Pan?" I say quietly.

"Huh?" he responds. "No, I hate Indiana's dad. It isn't like he hates Indiana, like my dad hates me, or he wants to fuck him like Groot's dad likes to fuck him. That asshole just likes to make his own son work his ass off to please him and then tortures the boy for no reason at all when he tries his best and is told he has failed. I hate him so bad."

"Shit," I say. "That sucks."

"Listen!" Dodger says, grabbing me by my shirt. "Indiana is going to be crying and screaming when they finally throw him out of the car in the morning. Don't you say a fucking word about it. Don't you put him down or anything or I will face exile to cut you. You got that?"

"Whoa!" I say, pulling back. "I didn't know you had the hots for him. Let me go."

"I don't got the hots. I love him. If you cannot tell the difference, I feel sorry for you. Come on, we have to help with supper. I promised the Hulk."

In the kitchen I meet the Absent Minded Professor. At eleven, he is two years younger than Dodger and me. Even though this puts him four years younger than Indiana he seems equally down about the absent boy's trials. He rules the kitchen and guides Dodger and me through helping him cook and doing cleanup. The professor explains that he cooks three meals a day but no one has to be there at meal times. He makes enough that boys can snack on good food at any time and the only one on a regimen is Indiana who tracks food and exercise to keep his body perfect for his torturers.

Peter Pan joins us for supper and tries to keep the mood light even though many are subdued about Indiana. I am introduced to several of the boy's by name and Dodger's name for them but I quickly lose track. There are boys at the table from the oldest, The Hulk, at age sixteen, to the Professor at age eleven and a sprinkling of all ages in-between.

The big topic of conversation, other then Indiana, a subject that everyone tiptoes around, is Squirtle's proposed adoption. A man, another pedophile, has expressed an interest in the boy and since the boy is twelve and, an age that is usually considered too old to be adoptable for some reason, there is much debate about what he should do. Some want Squirtle to talk about what will happen to the relationship when Squirtle leaves the pedophile's age of attraction and what will happen then? Others say that all caring is good, everyone at the table has been thrown to the curb one time or another, and Squirtle should take any love that can lighten his way. Others talk frankly about how Squirtle attempted suicide before being brought into this home and don't think he should risk being hurt again.

I was surprised when it was my turn to express an opinion and the room turned to me. I just got there and they wanted me to talk about what a guy I didn't know should do with his life. Suddenly everything just got too much for me and I tried not to cry.

"Just speak your heart," Peter Pan said softly.

"I don't know about the future. No one does, but if there is a chance, no matter how small, that you can be loved, just loved, not judged or hurt to make others feel better about themselves, I say go for it. I would do anything if someone loved me," I blurted out.

"Well said, " said the Hulk, getting up. "Come on Oliver, I will help you clear the table. We will die of old age waiting for someone called Dodger to get off his ass to help."

"Look!" exclaimed Dodger. "There is a big sign floating above the table. It says 'Fuck you, asshole!' and everyone knows to who the comment is directed."

"What about the rule?" I ask Dodger quietly as we gather used plates and flatware.

"Doesn't apply to him," Dodger says sullenly.

The mood lightens and everyone gets up and leaves the table. Peter Pan joins us in the kitchen to help with washing and setting aside food portions for later and I have never felt so wonderful in my life. The highlight of the evening is when the Hulk dumps a pan of soapy water on Dodger and Dodger responds by flicking suds on all in the room with a 'Fuck you!' and 'you' and 'you, too' around the room.

After we are done with the clean up, and the clean up of the clean up, Dodger goes to our room to get dry clothes and The Hulk takes me aside. Despite our age difference and his much larger size, he treats me like I am somebody. He tells me of the importance of education for my future and tells me to see Peter Pan when I decide what to do. He is willing to give me advice if I don't want a table discussion like Squirtle got.

I ask him how long do I have before I have to make up my mind? And he says, "all the time in the world. No one is forced to grow up or leave Peter Pan's house. Most boys move out when they grow older and feel they can make it on their own to make room for younger boys like me to get their chance. He says some holidays they think they need a banquet hall for all the older boys and men dropping in, some with families in tow. Many of the successful members of our family contribute food or money regularly to keep the house going."

I finally work up the courage to ask the question that has been bugging me. I know pedophiles are bad. I have been warned about them all my life. "Will I be forced to have sex with Peter Pan or the other boys in the house to remain there?"

The Hulk doesn't get mad but laughs to make me feel better. He says, "No one will have sex unless they want too." He said he is 'a flaming faggot' but I am too young for him unless I beg a mercy fuck, and Peter Pan's age of attraction is eight to ten and I am too old for him. He says Dodger is straight but might give me a mercy fuck if I ask nice.

I think for a second then ask, "Dodger will freak out if I ask him to fuck me, won't he?"

"Yeah, he will. But it would be fun to watch," the Hulk responds.

"What is your real relationship to him? You seem to have a love-hate thing going."

Hulk gets quiet. "He is my real little brother. Both of us are freaking out about the college thing. We have been together since I grew out of the age they wanted and they began to rape him regularly. He is a sweet and great kid with a big heart, and don't you tell him that or I will have to kill you."

Dodger and I slept poorly that night. Keeping each other awake with our tossing and turning. I knew what was keeping him awake, his friend Indiana being tortured, and I knew what was troubling me, my future.

Early morning found us sitting on the porch drinking hot chocolate and watching cars. Dodger got up immediately when the limo pulled up. The door opened and a naked boy was helped out by a foot against his ass that sent him sprawling. He immediately got up to his knees, put his hands on top of his head, and was almost crying as he said, "Thank you, sir. I will try to do better next time."

The man leaned out and spit on the kneeling naked boy's face, the door slammed, and the limo drove away. When the car got out of sight, Indiana sagged to the ground and sobbed continually. Dodger rushed to his side and held him tight.

I was amazed at the boy's condition. I could not see an inch of his nude body that had been spared. There were the marks of several different types of lashes. His face was not lashed but puffy and bruised from what looked like repeated blows. There was little dried blood drops but no pubic hairs above his cock and balls, and I could see bruises, dried wax, and pinch marks on his cock and balls that showed that area had received more then their fair share of attention. He moved his feet and I saw blisters that showed his feet had been held to a fire, literally! Slime seeped from his ass and down his legs. Together, Dodger and I carried him inside. I was surprised that there was no one inside to help us. Dodger whispered that Indiana asked for privacy when he returned home so no one would feel sorry for him and how he was hurt.

I really should have been moved to Hulk's room instead of Indy because Dodger would not leave his friend's side for the first two days. I heard both of them sobbing as Dodger cared for his wounds but both screamed at me to get out when I tried to help.

I was of two minds when a courier delivered a new computer system later. The truck also dropped off food like snacks, hamburgers, steaks, and coupons for pizza as well as new clothing in all sizes. There was also a card that gave a line of credit for bandages and medicines at a local pharmacy. We all knew where it came from. The stuff was from Indiana's dad, making it up to him. All the boys were two minds about accepting anything but the bandages. Everyone helped putting stuff away when Peter Pan said we should take good from bad.

Peter Pan took the new computer that he said was set up for 'fast rendering' and contained 'many scripts, tools, props, and backgrounds' whatever that meant. I took my share of new clothing and even kept from crying as I hung up and cared for Indiana's new suit and shoes.

When I cared for Indiana's clothing that had been thrown from the limo as he was returned I found an unlabeled computer dongle in a pocket. I swear I just wanted to see if it was any good when I put it in the room laptop. All it contained was a video file and I clicked on it in mild interest. The video was of Indiana and it quickly captured my interest. I have watched it over and over and I have it so memorized that I can see its images in my dreams.

It begins with Indiana standing in a well-appointed living room. He stands at attention staring straight ahead and he appears to be afraid.

"Well? That was embarrassing. Do you know what you did wrong?" a man's voice says from off camera.

Indiana looks even more panicked and stammers, "No daddy. I tried very hard to be good."

I hear other adult male voices from off camera, "Disgraceful!" "Not acceptable!" "He deserves to be punished, hard!"

Daddy's voice, "You have thirty seconds to remove your clothing. Begin!"

Indiana quickly begins to remove jacket, vest, tie, and shirt without moving his legs from his attention position. He then bends and struggles to remove shoes and socks without sitting down. Finally he removes pants and underwear and resumes his attention position.

Daddy's voice, "Time! I assume you find it acceptable to throw your clothing on the floor like trash? This will not do. Fold them neatly and put them on the side table now!"

Indiana, now completely nude and looking really afraid, rushes to complete this task. As the camera follows him I can see in the background, the waist of a man rubbing his crotch. The camera stays on Indiana until the boy is back in his original place and again at attention.

Daddy's voice, "This underwear is disgraceful and smells like ass. A proper human keeps himself clean. Perhaps this will teach you the lesson!"

Hands appear on camera and a pair of 'Y' front tighty-whitey underwear are placed over Indiana's head, covering the boy's eyes.

Indiana says with real sorrow in his voice, "I'm sorry, daddy. I try very hard to be clean and respectful."

Daddy's voice, "Silence! You never listen! I have told you repeatedly to speak only when spoken to! Perhaps a dirty sock will serve as a reminder."

The hands appear again and a folded sock is stuffed in the boy's mouth. "You have earned yourself a punishment. Go to the basement punishment room!"

Indiana puts out his arms to guide himself as he moves and it is obvious that the underwear on his head has blindfolded him. Daddy's voice says to those off camera, "Will you gentlemen kindly guide my son. He is too stupid to know what to do."

The camera is blocked as three suited men step into view, their faces not in frame and when they step away I see three cords attached to Indiana's body. There are two small metal clips on the boy's nipples with cords attached and what looks like a dog leash attached to a strap tightly around the boy's cock and balls. The cords and leash are pulled from off camera and Indiana, with his arms tightly at his sides is pulled forward.

I realize I am rubbing my junk and quickly drop pants and underwear as the shot fades to black. The video returns with Indiana standing between two widely spaced posts and on two small boxes. The cords, leash, and underwear items have been removed and Indiana's arms are stretched out to the sides at shoulder height. As the shot begins I can hear the sounds of ropes being pulled tight and Indiana's arms are being pulled hard. In background men, now dressed in leather gear, are pulling hard to stretch the boy's arms. Indiana gasps in pain, "I'm sorry, daddy. Please, I will do better. Please don't!"

Daddy's voice, "You just can't shut up, can you? Maybe this will teach you the lesson!"

The back of a man steps into view. He is wearing a leather hood like a mask and nothing else except straps around his chest and black bikini type shorts. While he is speaking I can see and hear the boxes Indiana stands on being pulled to the sides until Indiana's legs are spread so wide he only has tiptoes in the boxes.

The man on camera steps to side view and I can see he carried a leather strap, like a belt, that is about a foot [30 cm] long and attached to a wooden handle. Indiana cries out as the strap lashes across his chest at nipple height. Indiana's whole body sways and his muscles are corded as he screams and cries while being lashed.

I cum several times as I watch Indiana be tortured. I am finally spent as I watch hour after hour of this torture. A couple of things come to my mind. First is the men don't seem to want to have sex with Indiana, everything is just to scare him, hurt him and humiliate him. The second thing is how much the video reminds me of me and step-dad Walter the asshole. Walter was not near as bad as these guys but the aim is the same. Take a guy who can't fight back and make yourself feel better by making him feel worse. I almost didn't want to be anymore.

I stayed in the room and didn't want to be around anyone and believe it or not, it was Squirtle who made me feel better when he made love with me before he left with his new father. He came to Dodger's and my room when he knew I was alone. He said he knew I needed to feel loved and his mouth and ass were his gift to me. It was wonderful and it is a kindness I will always remember.

After Indiana recovered, he moved back to Dodger's room, and I moved in with The Hulk. He and Peter Pan helped me get testing and I qualified for private tutoring and Advanced Placement courses. The Hulk is teaching me how to study and supports me in my decision to be a computer engineer. I do everything in my power to remember to respond to the name 'Randy' when with my tutor, as I am much more comfortable with Oliver now. I think about Squirtle, Dodger, Indiana, The Hulk, and Asa Butterfield when I masturbate, and I think I may be gay.

The End