Backwoodsman

The Institution

Chapters 30-32

Chapter 30
End of Training

They hadn't done any practical work, the day I'd been a the shop. It had been spent in the classroom doing proper schooling. I was annoyed about the fact, since a day in class meant a day away from penetrating my body with a dildo. But the day after saw us back in the room with the couches where it had all started. We were told to strip, then go and empty our bowels and shower. When we eventually returned there was no sign of a dildo anywhere. I began to get a nasty feeling, especially as I was coupled with Martin.

He had changed beyond recognition. He scarcely ever said a word. His skin colour was white. He acted mechanically. He never bothered to complain anymore. The fact that his penis still became erect was a marvel to us all. We felt genuinely sorry for him. He was alone, withdrawn. He wouldn't respond to any offers of company, but just shook his head, his sad, dull eyes looking away from the offerer, even when it was made clear that there was no sexual motive involved. The only conversation he had really engaged in was to the effect that the only reason he did what he was told with us was that he'd rather it was someone his own age than one of the monitors.

As with the dildos, we were told that one was to lie face up, but this time the legs were to hang over the edge of the couch ready to go onto the approaching one's shoulders. The other was to stand between the legs and ready himself, which meant massaging himself to an erection and then lubricating himself. I exchanged uneasy glances with the others, then looked at Jimmy.

He was scared to hell.

"Sir?" I called. "What about Jimmy? It's not fair on him."

"Ah no," said the teacher. "He'll have to receive both times. We can't have him trying to serve, can we?"

"Sir…"

"Well?"

"That's not what I meant. I meant, he's only eleven, and he's not big enough to take… all that."

"He's been trained, as have you all. No, he can't reach to serve, that's for certain, so he'll have to receive as I said."

"Sir…" I tried again in desperation. "Can't I, or somebody else smaller, do it with him?"

"Silence! We will proceed as I have decided. Get on your back, boy…" This was to Jimmy, who still looked scared, "… and be ready to receive."

The boy with him looked at me, looked conciliatory and nodded, from which I hoped he meant that he would take care of my friend. Sickened, I turned back to my ill looking partner.

"You really look after him, don't you?" It was rare for him to say anything unless in response to a direct question.

"Yes. He's so young, someone has to."

"Good. Do you fuck him too?"

I was indignant. "I certainly do not! Nor does anyone else. Unless we're here, being made to."

"You don't say?"

"I fucking well do." I was aroused by this time. "I hate the idea of sticking my willy up someone else's bum, even if they are a friend and I fancy them or I'm in love with them. That includes Colin, too. So if you think I'm going to enjoy what we've got to do, think again."

"I thought all queers liked it."

"Then think again. Now are you going to lie down first, or am I?"

"You are."

I did so. He played with himself and eventually got a sort of erection. He smeared it with the lubricant and approached. I put my legs on his shoulders. He just seemed to keep walking straight ahead. We touched. I relaxed. He entered. I controlled my muscle. He pushed. I shuddered with disgust. He called to the teacher. The teacher came over. He said "OK, take it out." The boy pulled it out. I shut my legs. He turned away.

He never said a word, nor would he meet my eyes. When it was time for us to change over was the only time he looked at me, and for the first time I saw a little life come to his face. In a tight voice that spoke of real fear he asked me to be gentle. If he'd been Jimmy's age I'd have sworn he was about to cry. I nearly put my arm round his shoulders to comfort him, but thought he'd probably imagine I was being fresh with him, so didn't. I wish I had.

We went through the same routine. But I was very careful. He wasn't as relaxed as I was able to have been, so I had to spend a long time easing him open. Then once I was inside he tried to contract, despite all the days' practice with dildos. It must have hurt him – it did me – for we both gave a wince. He mastered himself and gradually eased off. I waited, then pushed in further, and this time he stayed relaxed.

It felt hot, and tight, and I wished it had been Colin, or Pedro, in a way, although I didn't want to do this to either of them. I certainly didn't want to do it to Jimmy, but then I wouldn't want anyone else to do it to him either. But if I had to be that intimate – unnecessarily intimate in my books – I'd rather it was someone I had feeling for.

Thinking of Jimmy, I looked round for him, and nearly pulled out as my subject shouted in pain. Hurriedly I turned back.

"Sorry."

"For fuck's sake look what you're doing, will you. You're spearing me, remember?"

"Sorry."

"Get that bastard over here, then get out of me, faggot."

'That bastard' was already on his way over. He looked at us, said "OK", and walked off. Hurriedly I pulled out. He shouted again.

"You were meant to be gentle with me. I was beginning to think you weren't as bad as the rest. But you are. You're so used to bumfucking that it never even hurts when you twist away, or pull out suddenly. Arsehole. You lied to me. I bet you three fuck each other silly all the time."

I was speechless. He took my silence for agreement.

"Arsehole," he said again.

Colin was at my side in a moment.

"What's the matter?"

"What's the matter?" the boy mimicked. "The matter is that your little bum chum here just fucked me, then twisted and nearly burst through me, then pulled out so fast I nearly followed through. But then you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, fag?"

"I don't know what you mean," said Colin quietly, keeping his temper with some difficulty. "He's never hurt me, because he's never been inside me like that."

"Yeah? Then how has he been inside you, queer boy? How do you do it if he doesn't come up your arse? Do you stick it down his throat?"

"Look," I said. "This is silly. We don't fuck because we don't like the idea. What happened just now was because I needed to see if Jimmy was all right. And I was so anxious to get out of you that I got out too quick. I'm sorry. But I don't like being inside you any more than you like me being there."

"Sez you."

"Yeah, says I. If you don't want to believe me, then it's up to you. But there's not a lot of point telling you lies in here, is there? If I said that the three of us are up each other every moment possible, and twenty times on Sundays, is that going to make you feel better? 'Cos it wouldn't me. If you want that sort of thing, see a monitor."

"SILENCE!!"

We hadn't heard the teacher approach.

"I heard enough of that to know it involves all three of you. You will each receive a punishment tomorrow. Now there will be silence. You will each go and shower, then return.

It was a silent shower, but a very thorough one. My partner seemed to have calmed down, but when we returned I was glad to see he was paired with someone else, although he seemed to have withdrawn into himself again. To my and his delight I was paired with Jimmy for his second 'helping', and was as careful, as reassuring, and as loving as I knew how.

Neither of us enjoyed it, for all that. But it didn't hurt him, because he did everything by the book. As did I.

It brought the two of us closer together again, though, and once again we and Colin walked round the perimeter after the meal. We were once again deep in discussion about Pedro and the likelihood of his causing trouble for us all: not in argument but in honest discussion. They were worried I might be discovered somehow, and that the punishment would this time be far more severe. We were startled by a crashing from the undergrowth on the other side of the fence, some three metres [10 feet] away.

"What on earth was that?" asked Colin. "Did you see anything?"

"No. Could it have been a rabbit?"

"I've not seen any here, and it sounded too heavy for a rabbit."

"I don't care," I said. "You've got me too worried about what'll happen if Pedro's discovered."

"Well, you did take a chance," said Colin. "You really don't know him at all. He could have been just stringing you along."

"Pssst!"

The noise had come from the bushes where the crashing had been. We looked at each other. I was putting two and two together with delight, but didn't like to call his name, just in case.

"Who's there?" I called.

A figure rose unsteadily from the undergrowth. It was as raggedly dressed as any of the local kids we occasionally saw, and had long, black hair like a girl's. But there was something not quite right about it. Despite the dirt, and the untidy hair, and the torn T-shirt, and the tight, dirty shorts the result was somehow wrong. Too dirty, too poor: not even the most down at heel had so little personal pride as this urchin.

The mouth in the filthy face opened and a voice I knew well said: "Hallo, Paul."

I gasped, although I was sure to start with it was him. But my certainty had had more to do with hope than with actual knowledge.

"Pedro! Is it really you?"

"It surely is! How do you want me to prove it? Shall I show you what you spent most time looking at the other day, and holding? Or shall I just take the wig off?"

I laughed. "I should just take the wig off. You might make Colin and Jimmy too excited if you did the other thing."

"I guessed that was who they were. It's good to see you both. He told me how much he liked you – no, loves you – when we were together. I can see why."

Colin cleared his throat with embarrassment. Jimmy just grinned at him. "He said a fair bit about you too," he announced. "Wants us to take you on as another of our bed club."

"Jimmy!" Colin protested. "For god's sake let's get to know the guy before we start thinking about that sort of thing!"

"Why? The Institution chucked us three together. It's just that we love each other too."

"It's all a bit soon," I put in, more to stop them than anything else. "We've got to…" I was drowned out by a stream of loud, fast Spanish from Pedro who, at the end of it, made a face and a rude gesture to us and rushed off into the thicket he'd come out of. Moments later two of the monitors walked up to us.

"What you do?"

"Having a change of scene. Seeing if we can see any rabbits. Do you have rabbits here?"

His face clouded over. They walked off, muttering, wondering, no doubt, why we should be interested in wildlife when there were three good looking young male bodies to play with. I waited 'til they were well out of sight, then called out softly to the silent bushes. Pedro reappeared.

"Ugly, aren't they? I'm glad you warned me. Look, if there are other people around I'd better be quick." He took a deep breath, then dropped his bombshell.

"Paul. Last night, when my father was out, I phoned your parents."

A tingle ran up my spine as if I'd had a mild electric shock.

"Are they all right?"

"They're better than they have been, now they know you're alive. They'd had nothing from the authorities in Britain except people telling them that they didn't want a queer son, that they'd be better off without you, that they never told the parents where kids in Institutions were, and that you'd be put in secure care when you came out, until you were eighteen. Then they'd had a letter from you, posted in Madrid, and they were sick with worry. Then the phone calls from Jimmy's and Colin's parents started, and the three have met. They're going to take action, but how, I don't know. "I didn't like to tell them about your promise. I thought they had too much on their minds already. The thing was," he swallowed: "I was going to tell them, and ask for anything else to pass on to you, when I heard my father at the door. So I had to say that I'd got to go. I haven't phoned back since 'cos he's been in all the time, and I had to come and tell you all this…"

He stopped for breath. We, too were silent. But only for a while. I jumped to my feet with an impatient whoop. "D'you know what this means, boys? It means we're as good as free! Free! We'll be rescued! Yeah!"

There was another blast of Spanish invective from Pedro. Excited, I reacted quickly. "And fuckoff yourself, you Spanish sod! Go on, bugger off!" And then added in a near whisper: "Thanks more than I can say. And come back. And my promise stands."

And with that he was gone again.

The monitors came over. One of them was Mr French. The fuss I had made over his attempt at making some kind of love to me seemed irrelevant now, since I had experienced so much more than three fingers into my bum. He looked unwell, pale; almost as much as Martin.

"Somebody giving you problems, lads?" He sounded genuinely kind and concerned. "No Sir," I said, although aware he was not entitled to the honorific. "Nothing we can't deal with."

"Are you sure? That's the second time he's been seen there."

"I think he's a local, sir. He's harmless." I was on top of the world, prepared to be nice to anyone and everyone.

"We'd better see if we can give him a shock, stop him coming back." I supposed he was about to turn to his colleague to repeat the suggestion in Spanish.

"Oh, don't do that, sir. I want to see if I can get him to take his clothes off."

The man looked at me, tiredly, then shrugged, and walked away. Once he was clear there was more thrashing in the bushes, and after about thirty seconds we saw Pedro's hair – his real hair – emerge from the foliage. It was followed by his face which was wearing the biggest grin I had seen on him. He looked at us for a moment, then slowly his figure rose from the bushes.

The disturbances in the undergrowth was him taking off his T-shirt and shorts. He emerged wearing nothing at all, the grin widening, if that was possible.

"You want I take my clothes off, señor? For you I do a strip. Be kind my family, eh? No, on second thoughts, don't bother."

The other two were grinning now, and I knew they had been won over. His quick wits were new to me, as he had not really used them in the emotion charged atmosphere of the shop. But his loyalty in coming out, his disguise, his ability to hide quickly, his sense of humour and, it must be said, his physical appearance, all counted in his favour.

"Hey, Pedro!" Jimmy suddenly pulled down his shorts and ripped off his T-shirt.

"Yeah! Good bod, Jimmy! Like it. I see why Paul wants to look out for you."

"Well, Pedro," said my constant lover of seventeen.

"You seem to have calmed all my doubts. Jimmy likes you, Paul obviously does, and he's made you a promise. I'll back up that promise. Don't do anything else to make your family suspicious, and you shouldn't risk coming out here again."

"Hey, why not? I can pass as a local. If I can get any news from any of your families I will, and I'll pass it on to you. But aren't you going to join Jimmy and me, both of you?"

I laughed, and was naked in a second. Colin, more slowly, took off his top to reveal the hairless chest that I loved nestling against. Then slowly, almost as if in a striptease show, pulled down the shorts to reveal the flat belly, the sudden demarcation line of his thick, curly black hair, then the root of his penis. He looked at Pedro who stood there transfixed, an erection starting to blossom on him.

"Don't let us down, and don't get caught. We'll come back for you." And with that he slowly revealed the full length of himself and the two swinging plums between his legs that had been kissed so many times by me.

Pedro made a sighing noise, his erection now full. Colin naked was a wonderful sight, and I could tell Pedro had fallen for him, too.

He recovered eventually, and said quietly, "I wish I was that side of the fence, right now."

Voices could be heard. Swiftly Pedro dived back into the bushes. We heard and agonised "Ahhh, fuck," as, no doubt some unprotected part of him caught on a branch, and he appeared no more.

"What're you looking at?" said one of our contemporaries who was coming round the corner.

"Oh, just a rabbit," said Jimmy. "And do you know, it had no fur?"

And the three of us collapsed in a heap with laughter. The others snorted with contempt and walked on.

And that was the last we saw of him that night, as people kept passing us.

We were so stirred up by our news that it was difficult to keep it to ourselves. We were so silly that night that the more depressed people – that is, the rest of the inmates – told us to piss off to bed. It hadn't occurred to us. We just looked at each other in a special way that had grown up between us when we were feeling randy and wanted to play, got up, said goodnight soberly to everyone else, but were back in fits of laughter by the time we had reached the door.

We headed for the showers. When we were safely under running water, Colin brought us down to earth.

"Don't forget that we're likely to be videoed in the bedroom. Anything that sounds suspicious they're bound to pick up. So think before you speak."

"Don't you think we shouldn't have fun?" asked Jimmy innocently, looking up at Colin with wide open eyes, pretending to be sweet and naive. The trouble was, it always worked. If he wanted to he could look like an angel – at heart he was. Is.

Colin knew his wiles, extended a hand down his back and under his crotch, supported it with the other one from the front, carefully, and lifted him straight off the ground. Jimmy had to cling on to him to avoid falling sideways. He motioned to me to turn up the water pressure, I grabbed the boy's legs and we held him under the needle sharp jets so it played on his penis. He shouted for mercy and we put him down again, giggling.

"Just you wait 'til I'm seventeen and can do that to you!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah," said Colin. I'll be twenty two, Paul will be nineteen, and we'll still be heavier than you."

He laughed good-naturedly, knowing when he was beaten. "I'd better get my own back in bed, then."

It all started in the shower, playing with the soap. We were each very close to orgasm there, but by this time knew the first feelings of one approaching and quickly stopped whoever was operating on us from making it happen. When we dried and got to the room we were all really ready for play, and for some reason picked on Jimmy as the recipient of our ministrations.

Even with the experiences he had learnt from over the previous months, he was still sensitive, and excited, and open to new sensations. We stimulated his body everywhere we knew it would have an effect, and he was soon moaning and shuddering with pleasure as he was fondled, sucked, licked and kissed on everything: earlobes, lips, nose, nipples, belly button, toes, penis and testicles of course, and, knowing he was clean, on his buttocks and inside them… I even pushed my tongue inside him a little way, but that seemed too intrusive, even for one of my lovers. He seemed to like it, though.

It was after we had rolled him back after this treatment that Colin put his mouth back around the boy's penis and, as he described afterwards, licked the end of the swollen glans. A puzzled look came over his face, and he looked at me, taking his mouth away. "Have you put some fluid on him?"

"What, lubrication? No."

"No, some of your seminal fluid."

"No."

"Can it be his own?"

He massaged the little testicles in their thin scrotum again, and got down and licked them round and about with his tongue. Taking his fingers gently to the erect penis, he 'milked' him upwards and a small drop of the precious liquid appeared from the eye of the organ.

"Wow," he said reverently. "Look, Jimmy, your first ever pre-cum."

My friend sat up, excitedly, and looked at himself. The two testicles were still high in their sac of skin, but were the size of small grapes. The smooth skinned penis emerged straight upwards toward the ceiling, its end protection of foreskin pulled partially back and lying crumpled around the base of the small glans. And there, shining like a pure raindrop, was the first sign that one day he would become as wet as either of the two of us.

Carefully he put his finger on the drop, took its wetness to his mouth and tasted it.

"Hmmm," he said happily. "Tastes like yours. Probably I've got so much of yours inside me, it is yours. Are you two going to make it happen for me, or do I see if I've got some spunk to give you on my own?"

That was enough for us. We launched ourselves back at his body as before, and with me watching, and fondling. and Colin operating on his erection, he had the longest orgasm I think he had enjoyed to date.

But there was no semen.

He wasn't in a state to care, though. In the way that youngsters have of not so much going to sleep but just switching off, he was gone before we had rearranged the bed.

That night, as it was usually Colin who started on me, I decided to be the prime mover. I did more or less all the things we had just done for Jimmy, and soon his own personal oil was flowing. It took a long time, because I wanted it so. After almost forty-five minutes of stop- go masturbation and fondling and sucking and pushing we were both wet through with our joint sweat and seminal fluid and, at last, his semen.

A shower was an absolute necessity, and when he had recovered a bit we went down to the shower room. It was there that, with soap, and embraces and kisses, I came too.

We slept.

Chapter 31
The Fall

Our state of euphoria at having made third party contact with our families meant we had forgotten Colin's, Martin's and my punishment from the previous day. In fact it was not until we were all in the hall that I remembered, and even then the prospect was not as daunting as it otherwise would have been. Besides, I had been through it before. Colin was also more or less unperturbed. Martin was very down, though, even more so than normal. He was alternately apprehensive, then defiant. I didn't know what he'd do when he was finally hauled onto the platform. I nearly went to him to tell him our good news so as to take the sting out of the punishment, but didn't dare. Colin was first. He was stripped of his clothes and marched up between us all by two monitors, a band round the base of his scrotum and between his legs held by one of them, and another band round the penis so he could be led by the other. On stage they wasted no time, but just gathered together as many individual hairs as they felt like, and pulled. He was pulled almost off the chair before they gave way, and his shout of pain made me crawl inside, both for him and for me.

They got Martin next, tore off his clothing and led him up in the same way. His moods had equalled out into resolve and contempt. As the monitor bent towards him, he looked him angrily in the eyes, a sneer on his face. The man grabbed a handful of his pubic hair and strained upwards, but they never gave way, nor did Martin yelp. All that happened was that he had to let go, as he couldn't lift the boy's heavy body off the chair. The Principal said something, the monitor's face turned sulky, and he just picked two or three hairs, jerked, and walked away. Martin got up, stared at the Principal with distaste, and walked naked off the platform.

Most of my cheerfulness had vanished now it was my turn, or had at least been imprisoned in a cold well of cowardice. My shorts T-shirt was pulled roughly over my head and my shorts hauled peremptorily down my legs. The bands were put around my scrotum and penis, and the walk to the stage was as uncomfortable as ever. The Principal spoke.

"Gaston, since your arrival here you have received a number of punishments, culminating in one which you were given a major lesson for only recently. Your argument with someone else in class yesterday only adds to the feeling I have that you are a troublemaker, and to discourage you and the others I have decided to make an example of you. This is what will happen to any of you…" he swung round to the assembled crowd "… if you misbehave constantly." My heart fell further into the well of cowardice: I had the familiar sinking feeling and my throat closed up, ready for tears.

"You have made no secret of the fact that you dislike anal intercourse. As you are now trained to accept this, you will become a recipient of it now. You had better make sure that you receive it well and willingly, for the longer you protest the longer it will take the donor to come to orgasm."

I was now shaking, all my happiness of the last twelve hours gone. I felt terrified. When was this to happen? Who with? "No… no… not that, please sir. I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'll be good… I won't disobey again… please…" I was pleading, nearly sobbing, like a five year old. I knew it and I couldn't stop myself.

"It's too late for that, Gaston. You know the rules. I've decided this is the best way to correct you and it will go ahead." I said nothing more.

"Bring the man in."

A door opened, and in walked the monitor we all hated most, the fat, ugly one who looked as if he would stab first and answer questions afterwards. He looked at me and smirked.

"Undress."

A few swift moves and he was naked in front of us all. His stomach was so gross it flopped over his belly. But the penis looked the most ugly part of him. He had been circumcised, and the result looked like a large, lopsided mushroom mounted on a thick stalk of at least nine inches [23 cm]. As a young man he might have cut a really imposing figure when nude, but as a middle aged man he was gross, frightening and disgusting. I strained away from him but was immediately held by the two who had led me to the platform.

"Start."

What? Now? In public? NO!!!

I gave a cry and tried to get away, but was held tight. They forced me to sit there while he came and stood with one leg either side of my clenched together legs.

"Make him erect."

What could I do? If I shouted for help my friends would never dare to intervene. There were too many monitors and staff around in the hall and on the platform for that, all come to see the fun, no doubt. So very reluctantly I reached out to massage the gross organ in front of me that was already starting to lift with excitement. When the blood had fully suffused it it was another inch longer and looked like a tree branch. The thought of it penetrating into my body which, although not thin was still only fourteen years old, made my muscles unwilling to move.

So I was manhandled across a low table eventually and made to bend over. They held my shoulders down whilst two others strapped my hands to the table legs. I felt more bands around my knees which were forced outwards, opening up my cleft for him. By this time I was feeling actively sick, and wondered, if I spewed up, whether they'd stop it.

I felt a hand, wet with… what? I hoped it was lubricating cream… anoint my bum, then the inevitable finger explored inside me, pushing more cream in there. Then there was a pause.

I felt it become warm at the back of me, and a sensation between my buttocks. He wiped himself all round my hole, and for a second I started to feel a stimulation. Then reality returned and I once again felt sick.

Then he slowly pushed into me.

It felt first as if I was being wedged apart. I tried relaxing even more than before, and that helped. He was wider than the biggest dildo I had practised with, though. As he drove into me I tried to keep my muscle from clamping down on him, as I knew that would be very painful. There was so much of him that I started to feel that uncomfortably full feeling that usually stimulates a bowel movement. And amidst all the discomfort I remembered I had not been to the toilet since the previous night, and was glad, for he'd find something on his shaft he wouldn't like.

He didn't push all the way in. I think he realised that if he had he'd have ruptured the wall of my intestine. As it was he was deep enough to stimulate my prostate gland, and despite everything my penis started to react to the sensation that caused. But he was by now happy to fuck me, and my body started to be pushed and pulled on the table top as he used me.

All through this I was either sobbing or giving out that high moan that people call keening. I was in abject discomfort on the border of pain, what condition I would be in afterwards I had no idea, but being an optimist I was glad to be still alive and likely to stay that way. All the time the forefront of my brain was intent on keeping my sphincter relaxed so as not to damage it. I didn't dare let my mind wander from this one purpose.

It went on for what seemed like ages, but was only about ten minutes. As he was about to come his penis grew harder still and wider, and as most of the lubrication had gone by then it started to cause me grief, until as he finally spurted his load inside me I shouted out in agony and tried hard to pull away. But I couldn't, and he kept going in me despite my cries until he was completely spent. Then he carefully withdrew.

The combination of lubricant, pressure, anal stretching and abuse left me weak and wanting nothing more than to find a toilet quickly. Nothing seemed to be happening immediately to release me and I suddenly thought… no, fuck 'em. They knew what might happen: I'll make it happen. As it was described to me afterwards, a few seconds after he had stopped raping me, I started to release the contents of my bowels like a frightened, chained bull. Fear had added to the lubrication inside me, and I'm glad to say that at least the man who had been in me, together with his two colleagues nearby, were both fouled by it.

They had to clear up before they could get near enough to release me.

As I rose, slowly, I acted as if I was in pain, but although my sphincter ached I was not too bad. I wasn't going to let on, though. I saw the Principal looking at me, but kept my eyes half closed to simulate a worse misery than I really felt. He told me to come over to him. I was conscious of my bum smelling unpleasant, but was glad it was disgusting a lot of people apart from myself.

"I hope that will be a lesson to you, boy. Not only do we give you an unpleasant punishment, but your own body, realising the stupidity in trying to buck the system, makes a further unpleasantness for you." Yes, and I'm the Prime Minister.

I said nothing, but just stood in front of him with bowed head.

"You may go."

Only now did I look up, and gave him a measured stare, full of contempt and hate. Then, head held high, I walked off the stage, not down to join my colleagues, but through the anterooms. Once out of sight I mouthed a few foul words in the direction I had just come and went to find the nearest toilet.

I felt that I couldn't face any classes that morning, practical ones particularly, so having cleaned myself up I returned to the bedroom and lay thinking of all the things I would do to the Principal and the man who had entered me when I got free. Fortunately when the Principal came into the room I was lying on my front, so pretending pain was easy. He asked me if I was all right!

"No. I hurt." I wasn't going to give him a 'sir'.

"It'll wear off. You can have this morning off, but I want you back in lessons – academic – this afternoon."

"Yes, if I can sit by that time."

He just looked at me, and then left the room.

I did make lessons that afternoon, but only because I had so many visitors I really wanted to get it over with. I had to keep quiet about not being in agony, because of the video. But I told my two all about it because when they came in at the end of the first lesson they were so concerned for my safety and well being. I went stiffly to the door, but once outside it with them and away from the cameras I underwent a transformation. In the shower, under the noise of the water, I explained that I was just putting it on to get them worried. They weren't as concerned about that as about how I really was inside, and in my head.

I hadn't had time to think about that. "It's not nice," I said slowly. "I feel really dirtied by him. And although we've gone through enough exposure to others, to be forced to go through that for the first time, and with such an ugly bastard, is awful. But if I hadn't had all the training I would probably be bleeding now, and still in tears. I think all it's done is to make me even more certain that I'm going to get even with as many of them as I can."

I was back in practical classes the next day, and it was interesting to see that the teacher was as conciliatory toward me as he could be. I penetrated and was penetrated, and we were encouraged to try for an orgasm inside the other but to withdraw if there was pain on either side. Life went on.

Generally, as my mind levelled out again, there were no lasting ill effects. I knew it had happened, and I was still certain I would do all in my power to tell any authorities who would listen about the place and its management, even if it made me appear a prostitute or a figure of ridicule in public. God knows I realised that there are always places where a good looking young man with experience is welcome and can make money. What was true for Spain must be even more so in Britain, despite the law.

A week later we were once again in the hall, waiting for another poor sod to have a punishment carried out on him. It was not to be a major one, though. As was usual with these cases the twisted monitors were all there, with the teaching staff and the Principal. The victim was just about to go onto the platform when the doors opened.

All of them.

All around the hall.

Every emergency exit, every communicating door, the lot.

And in each one was a group of soldiers. Armed.

Imagine yourself as a fighting man. You are told to raid a hall where there is likely to be major trouble. You fling open the doors on command. There in front of you is a silent group of fifty or so boys between eleven and eighteen, some naked. One of them is in bonds of the most intimate nature, necessarily completely naked, his genital organs being used to pull him onto a stage while restraining him from running, all in front of his peers and about twenty full clothed adults.

What would you think?

Breaking across our silence came a snarl from them, as of a wild animal at bay. I never realised that the human larynx could make such a sound: a sound which came straight from the caveman, and was intended to freeze the blood of an attacking tribe.

The odd thing was, nobody moved.

That night, we had a guard of military men on the Institution. Army caterers took over the kitchens. A few of us – the older ones – had been interviewed by men in civilian clothes who introduced themselves as being from the European Court of Human Rights. News spread fast, and much of what we were told at the eventual meeting in the hall had already reached us.

Colin's, Jimmy's and my parents had received no really interested reaction from anyone to do with the British Home Office. They had decided to travel to Brussels with our letters to seek urgent help from the Human Rights Court. After talking to several incredulous staff, they finally briefed an officer with some clout. He took them at face value, incredibly swiftly arranged for them all to travel to Spain, and the first call they made was on Pedro's address. After some blustering by his father they were allowed to speak to the boy alone, and he told them the full story. The local police arrested the father on the spot, and were about to take Pedro to a children's home. But he had made a second phone call to them and had finally told them what I had promised him. My parents intervened and said that they would take him back to Britain as he had a British passport. They would look after him, if that was what he wanted.

He wanted.

He flew home with our parents, anticipating my company in the near future, he said. As did they.

Negotiations with the Spanish Army authorities had taken some little time, but two days later all was arranged. It was pure good luck that almost all the staff were watching the spectacle of a punishment when the task force arrived. The alarm bells rung by the gatekeepers, who were the only staff not in the hall, could not be heard there, so the institution's authorities had no warning. The gatekeepers had had to let the army in.

We had two further days there before our official release, and apart from being constantly with the boys I love it was a bit boring. We learnt afterwards that lots of British government departments lost members of staff very suddenly, some of whom would be later convicted of sins of commission in engaging known molesters – not boy lovers but actual molesters – to be involved in a correctional institution for boys. Others were sacked for turning too many blind eyes.

What happened to the (mainly Spanish) staff I have no idea, but I hope the monitor who raped me is rotting in a gaol somewhere. The Principal and teachers were removed to Britain where they were later sentenced. The Principal, I learnt later with satisfaction, was raped at knifepoint in prison. But he may have enjoyed it.

They could do nothing about the studio where the video was made, and the four of us involved were very vague about it as we didn't want Carl to get into trouble. We didn't know where it was, anyway. As it turned out, it was a good thing, but that's another story.

The shop where Pedro and I met was also raided, and the owner probably shares a cell with one of the monitors. I rather hope so.

Our homeward flight, with sixty excited boys on one plane, was a noisy, hectic affair. It was also an extension of our life at the institution on one way, because it was a private, Government funded flight. They didn't want us talking to anyone outside those in the know, even if most of the guilty ones had been got rid of. We were even given special treatment when we arrived at Heathrow. An area had been put aside for us where parents could meet up with their long-lost, molested, mainly gay sons.

Except that a handful didn't.

My own – our own – reunions with those who had given us life and birth were emotional and tear-jerking, and nobody could blame Colin from sobbing his heart out just as Jimmy and I were doing. After a long period of emotion we started swapping stories about the release, from when our letters arrived up to our boarding of the plane. Why does everyone latch on to the last, least important part of a story first? At last I looked around.

Blondie was standing alone, looking defiant. Martin was standing alone, looking white faced and staring blankly at the opposite wall. One or two others were just standing, looking nervous and trying not to show it.

Hell. I had to do something. I went first to Martin.

"What's up? Are they delayed?" He looked at me. I'd noticed his face becoming increasingly expressionless over the last few weeks as the 'training' got to the stage where, to a straight boy particularly, it must have been really revolting. Now it was completely empty of everything, as if all life, all hope, had been drained from him.

"They're not coming." He said it in a dead, flat voice.

"Are you sure?" I asked wonderingly. Surely you didn't abandon your son, even if he was eighteen. Didn't they realise he was innocent?

"They think I'm gay too. They phoned and told the people here."

I didn't know what to say or do. My inclination, as always, was to try and comfort him with a hug, but I didn't know what his reaction would be to that.

I was still looking at him in silence, half of me wanting to help and the other half wanting to get back to the joy of being with my parents and friends, when there was a disturbance down the passageway leading from the room. A female voice was arguing frantically. As the dissension became more obvious and audible there was a change, a distant spark of hope, visible in Martin's face.

"Clare?" he muttered' almost inaudibly. "Clare? Clare?" He ended in a shout, pushed me roughly aside and ran from the room. I watched as he ran, stumbling, down the passage. At the end was an attractive girl, about nineteen, with auburn hair, whose argument with the security guard was suddenly stilled as she turned to look at the figure rushing toward her. She said nothing more, just held out her arms to stop him and embrace him as he finally lost control and cried in her arms like a badly hurt child.

They were ushered back into the room, the two of them. I rejoined my group, and it was much later that I heard from a now overjoyed Martin that his girlfriend Clare – for that was who it was, as if we couldn't guess – had never believed for a moment that he was guilty. The talks she described with his parents were bitter, as they took it for granted that he was. She had been told he was to be freed, but that his parents wanted nothing more to do with him. The argument that ensued had almost lost her the opportunity of finding when and where he was entering the country, hence her late arrival. The guard had done his best to turn her back as she was not one of the expected parents.

Now he was recovered from the first delightful shock he was quiet again, withdrawing into himself after he had told us about this miracle. She looked at him.

"I know," she said. "Your parents told me what you'd been through. I feel sick about it for your sake, but it's not going to come between us. Not so far as I'm concerned. Nor so far as anyone else is concerned either, if I've got anything to do with it."

My own reunion was still in progress: the three of us had got together again and our parents were talking together, too. The discussion was all about how disgusting it was that we should have been made to do what we had been.

"And to sleep together, too!" exclaimed Colin's father. There was more adult agreement about this and it was only stilled when Colin interrupted:

"But that's the only part of it that made it bearable!"

A silence.

"Rubbish," said his father. "You'd not want to sleep with another boy at your age."

"Dad, I'm gay. Homosexual. Pansy. Brown hatter. Queen. Call it what you will, one of the many names you used to use about them that made my blood curdle. I never told you that I was one, but now I've been through this I don't need to hide it any more. Paul, Jimmy and I are lovers. Not because we were told to be, but because we want to be. We were friends first and partners second, then the two became simultaneous. If that disgusts you, then say so now, because it's the truth."

I wasn't sure I liked his father.

"Nonsense, Colin," he said. "It's that bloody Institution that's turned you queer, if that's what you are. A good dose of normal life will turn you back, don't worry."

"Dad, you don't know what you're talking about. I was gay before I ever went into the Institution, before ever I showed Tony and his friend everything. But apart from that I'd never done anything… practical… about it. And as for turning me straight, I've learnt enough to know it can't be done. So you just need to know, that's all."

There was an uncomfortable pause. His father glared at him, and Colin looked calmly back. His mother said nothing: I think she was too scared of his father to say what she thought. Either that or she agreed.

I thought it was about time I cleared the air, whilst there was still awkwardness from Colin's outburst. To take some of the heat off him would be the least I could do.

"You know I'm the same, Mum, Dad, don't you? I knew I was before Chris and I were caught. And being in that place has just given me real love for the first time."

"But you're too young, Paul," said my mother. "We realised that you were gay when it happened, of course. And we've talked about it all many times while you've been away. If you are, then we can live with it, just as you've got to. But you can't be in love, not at thirteen."

"I'm fourteen, Mum," I said. "And I can and I am. With Colin and Jimmy. And we want to go on being with each other, don't we?"

There was a bass and a treble chorus of agreement.

"Over my dead body!" said Colin's father, suddenly. "I'm not having a son of mine being a faggot with two little boys. I'm beginning to be sorry we came to get you, if this is all the repayment we get."

I don't blame Colin for losing his temper, or for doing it so loudly. "Repayment? What do you mean repayment? I've been at a sex school for queers, as you call them, just got free and I'm into a family argument. I found two people I love, who have looked out for me as I've looked out for them over the last six months. I've been stripped naked in front of people, I've been abused, handled, wanked, sucked, arse-fucked and raped by strangers. And all because I'm gay, something which I can't help being or change, that is as normal to me as being straight is to you. All I need is a bit of moral support from the people I thought loved me for what I am. Their son. Looks as though I'll be looking somewhere else, doesn't it?"

He made to walk off down the corridor to the outside world.

"Colin," I called. He paused and looked at me.

"Come and live with me? Please?"

His outburst had stilled everybody in the room, not least his parents, who stood there with their mouths almost touching the floor. Everyone else's reunions and chatter had ceased whilst they discovered what was happening: what could happen when the basic instinct of fear of the unknown meets the unknown in its own family.

"If your parents will have me. Please." I watched his face now his temper had passed. Now he was just a defeated eighteen year old, defeated by ignorance, by that fear and unwillingness to try to understand that had been a hallmark in our society for so long that it had at last brought about the draconian treatment we had all suffered. I had never seen him so near the end of his tether.

I looked at my parents, suddenly aware of what I was asking them. They had already unquestioningly taken on one stray from my immediate past: would they, could they, take on another?

I think they had learnt a lot from me in my months of absence, and perhaps even more in the last few minutes. Perhaps it had never really dawned on them until then what in detail had been happening to us. Perhaps I had learnt tolerance and love and fairness and a willingness to help from them in the first place, and was now challenging them to maintain the standards they had taught me.

"Yes," said my mother.

"Yes," an instant later, said my father.

Chapter 32
And Then…

Jimmy went with his parents. It didn't come as a surprise. He was only just twelve, after all. Oh yes, he'd had a birthday while we were in the Institution but as none of us knew what the date was or bothered to ask, he never realised. Colin and I hugged him and told him to phone and visit soon: his parents were a bit less enthusiastic about the idea, I could tell. But I felt sure he would make such a fuss if they tried to stop him that we'd hear from him eventually. Colin's parents had gone home in disgust. He called after them that he'd call them to collect his possessions. I thought I saw his mother sobbing as they walked quickly down the corridor.

And Chris – Chris, the boy who had started it all for me. Chris who had been so 'loose' that he had almost cheated on Billy, who loved him. Well, I suppose I was no better really. He was met by no parents. He was in tears. He was met by social workers, as were some others, of all ages, who were led away sobbing their hearts out having been abandoned. How could they? What sort of monster can give up on their child like that?

He was about to meet the same fate, the children's home up to the age of majority, then what? But Billy intervened. He told them with authority that he was an adult, had a mother who had always wanted another son to replace his brother who had been lost, with her husband, in a car accident. The social workers insisted that Chris must go with them that night, but that he could visit in the morning and set wheels in motion for fostering. His protestations were unable to sway them: they were only doing their duty. I don't know how they managed it, but Billy, the survivor, the man who taught me and eased my tight foreskin for me, wangled the boy's escape somehow so they all went home together. I never saw them after that, but there were local newspaper reports of a thirteen year old missing in odd circumstances which went abruptly silent after two days. I think the editor must have been tipped off about the oddness of the circumstances and though it wiser to leave the can of worms unopened.

Things were a little cool between Pedro and Colin when we got home, but they settled down, and I think when Colin realised how much Pedro's persistence had done to get us home he thawed a lot. Pedro, too, realised that Colin had gone through a lot and had always been my completely faithful support, he accepted the situation.

The first bed time was a bit of a struggle. Pedro had never slept with anybody else, discounting his father and the mercifully rare visitor who his father had wished on his son's bed. Colin had never slept without at least one of us there, from choice. Both wanted to sleep with me (which made me very proud and a bit big-headed.). My parents wanted each of us to have his own room, still believing that we were all too young to know when we were in love. It took me an hour of explaining, of cajoling, of near tantrums, of more explaining, and at last of just putting my foot down and telling them that they'd have to lock us all in our rooms, and how dangerous that'd be in case of a fire, to persuade them.

Finally we were all in the big guest room – fortunately it's a big house – with its full size, double bed. And suddenly, after months of caring nothing about whether we had clothes on or not, we were all shy. If it had been Colin and me, or Pedro and me, or perhaps even Colin and Pedro, there would have been no problem. But here we all were, looking self-consciously and sidelong at each other, wondering who was going to be the first to remove something. We even had our shoes on!

It came over me at last how ridiculous this all was. As I thought on, I felt a belly laugh start deep down inside me. I grinned, then chuckled, then laughed out loud, and was soon doubling up with the release of the tension we had all been going through for the last three days after six months of hell.

At first incredulous at my behavior, they found the laughter infectious, and soon we were all shaking with mirth, tears streaming down our faces, but tears of joy rather than the tears of anger, of pain, of shame, of anticipation of bodily violation that had been the norm for so long. We slowly recovered, and Colin, always master of the grand gesture, went to Pedro and kissed him, said something quietly and just held him. I didn't even feel jealous. Then they both came over to me, and we embraced together for the first time.

Then I felt Colin undo my fly, and Pedro undo my shirt, and knew that it was time, and all was well.

End Bit

So we showered and played naked and really had again all the good times we had enjoyed at the Institution.

For a while.

Then we noticed that Jimmy's phone calls became less chatty, and further apart, and that he stopped wanting to visit at every opportunity. Finally the gap between calls was so long that I began to get worried. Without telling the others, I phoned him.

He didn't want to come to the phone. I could hear his mother telling him it was me, and he should tell me, and I was immediately beside myself with worry. Eventually his reedy, broken voice said gruffly: "Hallo."

"Hallo yourself. What's up?"

"Nothing's up."

"You've not phoned for ages. Have I done something? Said something?"

"No."

"Well, what then?"

I could hear his mother in the background: "Tell him. You've got to tell him."

There was a silence. Then abruptly: "I've got a girlfriend."

It was my turn for the silence.

"Hallo?" said the phone.

"Oh. Er… I see. What's she like?" My voice had gone high and quavery. I couldn't help it.

"She's OK."

"Oh. That's nice… er…" I thought desperately of something to say that would be acceptable at both ends of the phone.

"… er… I'd like to meet her."

A pause. "You would?"

No. I wouldn't. But it would bring Jimmy back to the house.

"Yes, of course I would . We all would."

He sounded a bit doubtful. "Well… if you think so… I'll ask her. When I see her, that is. She doesn't live here. Yet." There was a bit of a giggle, just like the old Jimmy, but deeper. "You know, I'd been dreading this, telling you. I thought you'd just put the phone down. But it's OK." His voice sounded relieved. I wanted to get my parents to drive me over there, so I could hug him, and kiss him, and tell him to forget her, that I was all he needed. All I could see was a future without my little Jimmy. My not-so-little Jimmy. But he was still talking. "Of course, when we come, you won't mind if we don't sleep with you three, won't you?" He was suddenly doubtful, conscious of having touched the raw nerve. I felt mentally numb.

"Oh no," I lied. "I quite understand." I think my formality touched him, too. He was always sensitive to the way other people spoke, even at eleven, and more so now, at thirteen. Thirteen! The same age I was when I went to the Institution.

"You do mind. I know you do. I can hear it. Paul… you're still my friend, and you always will be. So will Colin. But… I think I'm in love with Georgie. It feels like it did when we all needed each other, but… better, somehow. We're friends, just like the three of us are, but there's more to it. Oh, hell. I don't know. You'll see, when you meet her."

I was sure I wouldn't, but I agreed anyway. We rang off shortly afterwards and I sat by the phone, still numb, head in hands.

Colin found me there some time later. I told him the story.

"But don't you realise that what we did was all play and exploration to him? I knew you loved him, but I thought that was just as a sort of elder brother, like I was."

I was silent. I thought Jimmy had been returning the real, physical love that I was giving him.

"He was eleven when he came, you know. The only love he knew was parental love, or animal love, or brother's love. Oh, poor Paul…" And not for the first time those arms went round me and, almost sixteen as I was by now, I once again cried into his shoulder.

I had once before been lovesick, and that was over a sudden affair. To be stricken over Jimmy was more traumatic in that I had been his lover over an important part of my life and for a long time. But I'd been through it before so that I knew, more or less, what to expect. So it didn't take me as long to regain my equilibrium as I expected. When Jimmy eventually did visit I had to agree that Georgie was a cute girl, and not too little either as she was a year older than him. I was by turns jealous, touched, possessive, supportive, and not a little tearful to see them go the next morning, having spent the night in separate rooms. Separate from each other and from us, that is.

It took ages to wring from the government the money we had earnt whilst in Spain. It took threats from our solicitors to expose the whole episode to the Press on the continent as well as over here, despite the probable loss of our anonymity. Eventually the government grew so alarmed by the damage in prospect that they did their sums and paid in full. We even got an amount of compensation for the whole issue. But the solicitor – who was acting for all of us – was still dissatisfied and refused to sign anything saying that the matter was closed, and forbade any of the families to do so on their own. "When the government changes, we'll tell them what their predecessors did. That'll wring some more from them," he said.

We were all quite wealthy as a result, even without anything else the solicitor could get for us.

Eventually I did my A-levels and went to University. Colin, because of his time in Spain, had missed out on that as a possibility. Pedro had been through an education in Spain, and although bilingual his home life had not really been conducive to studying. He was bright, though.

Long discussions with my parents resulted in all three of us moving to the City where I am at University still. It's an experiment, with the promise that if it doesn't work out we'll descend on them again. Poor, long-suffering people. We visit them often, and I'll be eternally grateful to them for believing my letter, believing Pedro, rescuing me, taking me back, and accepting my sexuality and my lovers to their – our – home.

We got a surprise visit from Jimmy the other day. He'd split up with Georgie, and was really downhearted. "You two, and now Pedro, always made me laugh," he said. "Go on: here I am, entertain me."

Pedro was out at the time. I wondered, in view of his obvious sexuality, whether we'd get away with it. I looked at Colin: he looked at me. We raised our eyebrows. Jimmy could see what was coming because he started laughing. "I'll shout rape!" he said. But we gave him no mercy, and soon we were all panting and naked.

"That was harder work than in the old days," said Colin. "I could scrag you on my own then. Now it takes two of us. My word, you've got a real man's body on you now."

"I swore I'd never let anybody do that, or do anything gay to me again," panted Jimmy. "When I was with Georgie, that is. Oh shit."

He'd forgotten about her in the melee.

He didn't want to sleep with us any more, and we understood why. But it didn't stop us all wandering around the flat naked, Pedro too, and he could hardly keep his eyes off my old friend's body. I just wished … oh well. It would never happen that Jimmy would let us play with him again.

And I started writing a book about my experiences. I was jolted into it by a gradual slide by the government back into the mire of homophobia that had started it all off. I could see recent history start to repeat itself. It took me months, but I did it – to the great detriment of my studies.

The first edition was published privately with the help of my parents, although if they'd know the graphic detail that was going to be in it they would never have done so.

It's the only time in my life that I would ever be responsible for bringing down a government.

A lot of the others have written to me. Some have congratulated me: others have really shovelled it on thick about dragging up old history, dragging their names through the mud and generally making their lives hell with their parents and friends. Well, I never used a real name in the whole book, but I would rather do all that than chance another fifty or more boys going through what we did.

And at last, Colin, Pedro and I are at peace. We live and sleep and play together, and – unnaturally, I'm told – are in love with each other. Jimmy's at my University – which I graduated from last year, and to my surprise and delight is staying with us. We still wander round the flat naked. I still look longingly at his body but know that I mustn't. He's now bigger than me, anyway, in all senses of the word – those little testicles which we saw appear and blossom, and that smooth little penis which we saw develop and ejaculate for only the third or fourth time are grown into an impressive battery of hair-surrounded equipment. And his new, very laid back, down to earth, comical girlfriend knows and accepts his past with us, our sexuality, and even forgets herself enough to wander with us around the flat very scantily clad. She sees to Jimmy's sexual needs now, dammit. And she knows that she's got nothing to fear from us, only from him, and his interference she welcomes.

The End