Lucian, Ch. 2. free porn video

Lucian, Chapter Two. Why do we think in absolutes so often, like good and bad, fire and water? Why, for instance, do we insist that there only should be men and women, and call that the natural order? Isn't that just a lack of imagination? Lucian sat on a bench in the shadow of a big tree with a crown of flaming leaves - a sycamore, maybe? He loved the word, but he knew nothing about trees. It wasn't an oak, surely - there were no acorns lying around. He looked across the vast lawn to the school building. "So you've been here for a while?" he asked the black-haired boy next to him. After coming around from his exhausted fainting, Harper had taken him to Dr. Kurtz. "Just to be sure," Coach insisted. The doctor listened to his heart, and checked his blood pressure. "You're fine, honey," she said, smiling. "Just hopelessly out of shape." Then she'd checked on his penis. Lucian watched it rest on her gloved hand, pink on blue, feeling an embarrassing rush of blood starting to fill it out. "You won't need your jock strap anymore," she said. "Unless you got attached to it?" She chuckled, flashing her weak, ambiguous grin. He knew he blushed while pulling up his shorts. The slick nylon slid over the exposed head, increasing his erection. Harper then took him into the labyrinth of the school's belly, through corridors, dozens of doors and past halls until they arrived at what the boy called the library. "To get your books and things," he said. The girl at the desk was thin and blond, a Barbie, he guessed. She wore an open dress shirt over a silk top and shorts - and ballet shoes, of course. She could be any girl he'd seen before, and she smiled. "You are Lucian, aren't you?" she asked, offering her long, narrow hand. "I'm Aubrey, welcome." He grunted a reply, touching her fingers. "We have your things here," the girl went on, turning to a cardboard box on the desk. It had a sticker with his name on it. She picked it up and handed it to him. "Good luck," she wished. He smelled the school's standard lotion on her. "Ehm," he said. "Shouldn't I check?" The girl shrugged. He put down the box and went through its content. There were books on fashion, he saw, and a book with a large, beautifully made up eye on the cover. 'Beauty 101' it was titled. "Are you sure these are for me?" he asked. "There must be a lot missing." The girl seemed puzzled. She leaned over to look into the box. "Like what?" she asked. Lucian shifted through the books. "Like math?" he asked. "Geography? Physics?" The girl's smile returned. "Ah yes," she said. "We don't have them." Lucian looked from the girl to the books. There was French and English. Music too. Etiquette and a book called Grace. "I see... I guess we get those on computer?" he asked. "iPads, maybe?" She frowned, looking from Lucian to Harper, who shrugged. "No," she said. "We, ehm, we don't have those classes." *** The boys already sat around the table in the small breakfast and lunch hall. They welcomed him with a lot of noise, calling him the Amazing Runner. News spread fast. There was a salad with crunchy bits, and a smoothie. There also was a lot of iced water - and pills. Dessert was fruit and yoghurt. And now they were here, he and Harper, sitting on a bench across the big lawn - digesting. On the grass were groups of girls, lazing or studying, talking and laughing. On a distant lane he saw a number of joggers again, ponytails dancing. "So you've been here for a while?" he asked the black-haired boy. Harper smiled, turning his eyes to Lucian. They were dark and liquid, living in the shadow of his bangs. "Been here for a year," he said. "But they have this other school. Let's call it middle school. I was there for two years. So were some of the others." "They?" Lucian asked. The boy shrugged. "You know...," he said, letting the word dangle. Lucian watched the boy's fingers fumble in his lap. They were long and narrow. "I know nothing," Lucian answered. "I came here, what, three days ago, dumped by my mother, and I'm confused ever since. This school is weird man - silly clothes and ballet lessons and no math or physics. Are we the only boys?" "No," Harper said. "Lots of boys." He shirked a bit closer and laid his left hand on Lucian's. Lucian removed his hand, causing the boy's fingers to fall on his thigh. They started moving on the bare skin. "I like you, Lucian," Harper said. "Could we be friends?" Lucian looked from the hand on his leg to the boy's face. "Are you gay?" he asked. Harper didn't respond, but his fingers drew a slow circle. Lucian jumped to his feet. "Fuck you!" he cried out. "Leave me alone. I'm not a faggot!" Harper's face flushed; his eyes grew huge. "I...," he said, bringing his fingertips to his mouth. Then he slid off the bench, stood for a second and ran off. "That wasn't very nice, Lucian," a voice said. He turned around; Drew was standing behind him. She must have been one of the girls he saw running. The loose tank top she wore had dark sweaty blotches. Her chest heaved as she panted, her throat gleaming with sweat. Nipples poked into the sticky fabric. She frowned, causing a vertical crease to appear between her eyebrows; there was no smile. "He... he touched me," Lucian said, hating how the word rose into a whine. "I'm not a faggot!" The smile returned to Drew's face. She stepped forward and held his shoulders. Her hands were hot. "Of course you're not," she said, her face quite close to his. "But what if you were? Who cares?" Lucian shrugged in a halfhearted effort to shake off her hands. Her scent rose like steam from her soaked body. He tried to avoid her eyes. "So you prefer girls?" she asked, her head tilting as her gaze searched for his. "Of course," he said. She chuckled. "Ah yes... because you're not a faggot." She leaned in and kissed his cheek. The touch felt electric. Then her soft lips found his. He trembled. "Come," she breathed. "Let's walk a bit." She took his hand and led him down a narrow path into a thicket of trees and bushes until they reached a small clearing. No one could see them there. The sunlight was filtered; it was like a little green and gold and copper copula. "I bet they called you faggot all the time," she said, standing in front of him - close. "Or sissy." She sighed. "Ah well, bullies all over the world have such a small vocabulary." She smiled. The place was quiet; the sounds from the lawn were distant. Lucian felt a drop of sweat trickle down his temple. He had never been this close to a girl as pretty as Drew. Her scent, her voice and her slow smile caused tightness in his crotch. He looked down; there was a bulge in the shining satin of his shorts. Drew chuckled. He blushed. "Let's kiss," she said. Her lips were soft and yielding; they also were hot and moist and open. He closed his eyes; his face seemed to sink into hers, like being absorbed. Her tongue entered, finding his. A moan vibrated inside his head. Then her body pressed into his; he was touched by every square inch of her flesh. He'd never kissed like this. Maybe he never really kissed. The world vanished. There were only mouths kissing and arms embracing, hands feeling. One of her hands took his and led it up her slick belly. It slid under the loose damp fabric of her top to find her breast. It was quite modest, not even a real breast, really; just a patch of softness on her ribs. But it had a hard center - a stiff, erect nipple nudging the palm of his hand. Another moan caused new vibrations. Led by hers, his hand made slow circles over her nipple. She pushed her chest into his palm, moving against the pressure. Then she pulled it over to her other breast. Lucian tightened at the very core of his being; a hot, sweet cramp radiated from the center of his crotch, spreading over his body. It was an erection and yet it felt different. His orgasms had always been fast and hasty affairs - lonely races towards release. But this was slow and subtle, centering at his crotch, but spreading through his body, making his fingers tingle and the hair on his neck prick. "Good, so good," the girl's voice breathed into his kiss. He felt a pang of pride. Her hand pushed his down her body, finding the waistband of her loose running shorts. Her belly was flat and firm under soft skin; there was no hair on her mound - and there were no panties. The skin felt slick, damp even, and very hot. Then he found the nub, and as soon as he did, she stiffened in his embrace, crying out. Lucian had fondled a girl only once before. It had been a hurried and sweaty affair in a dark corner at school. The memory was a mixture of throat-clenching excitement and utter humiliation. He'd felt the girl's little breasts through her top, and her pussy through her panties. She'd humped against his fingers. Then her cell phone beeped. She'd pulled it out, looked on it and pushed him away. "Thanks," she'd mumbled, and she'd left him standing. He hadn't felt a nub in the girl's crotch, back then, but he hadn't been into her panties, had he? He knew about clits, though. He'd read they were usually tiny, but they could vary a lot, like nipples. What he felt on Drew was big, he guessed - the size of maybe a finger's first joint. It was wet and slippery. And, according to her reactions, it was very sensitive. He rubbed and she humped. Then she said: "Lower." Her hand pushed his hand lower while she spread her thighs. "Put it in," she panted. "Put your finger in." Drew leaned back onto his supporting arm, pushing her pelvis forward and spreading her legs wider. An opening yielded to his probing fingers. Two of them slipped inside. Her pussy was tight around his digits, but it seemed to inhale them. His fingers slid into a hot tunnel with moist, satiny walls. Soon he was up to his knuckles into her vagina. Drew started humping. "Fuck me," she breathed. "Fuck me deeper." And her open mouth found his again in a greedy kiss. In the tight space between them he felt her fingers fondling her own nipples and her clitoris; the backs of her hands bumped against his chest and belly. She arched and stiffened. Then she cried out. Her spasms strangled his fingers. She came and in her throes she slipped out of his embrace to fall on the ground. Her shorts were down her thighs. Her crotch shone with a whitish liquid that still welled up from the stubby nub. It leaked into the crack of her ass cheeks. He saw the opening where his fingers had been. The nub looked purplish and at its center was a slit, producing the milky liquid. Drew wasn't a girl at all. She groaned and scrambled to her feet, pulling up her shorts. She stood panting, looking at him and then turning her eyes away. "Sorry," she mumbled. "So sorry." And she ran off, becoming a rustle in the bushes. He was alone. Standing under the roof of leaves, his ears seemed to pop open. Sounds returned - the birds sang, he heard a distant airplane. His hand, still slick from the girl's orgasm, moved over the satin crotch of his shorts, cupping his bulge. It felt like holding a hot little animal. When he squeezed, incredible sensations spread through his legs and belly. There was no hard cock to hold onto, just this soft swollen creature rolling and roiling inside his hand. And then it started - like a private earthquake, shaking in slow motion. He trembled. His knees gave in and he fell to the earth, his body feeling like a high-pressure cooker with no lid to pull off. His ears buzzed. A scream wanted out, but his throat blocked its way. Lucian fell forward, his brow to the earth - musky, moist earth. One hand kept squeezing; the other pushed a fist into his gasping mouth. He exploded. It was the slowest explosion ever, creeping into every niche and crevice of his body. It sang in his ears and pounded in his temples, going on and on - and on. Sobbing he crouched on the fragrant earth. His body convulsed, his teeth bit his fist and his hot breath gushed around it. *** Lucian had no idea how long his orgasm lasted - or if it was an orgasm at all. It felt quite different from what he knew. It gathered from the extremities of his body - his toes, his fingers, the hair in his neck - like a summer storm on a sweltering day, taking ages to gather before pouring and thundering down. As he lay on his knees shaking, his mind needed minutes to clear. Still squeezing his cock, he heard squelching noises. The satin crotch of his shorts looked dark and soaked. Liquid leaked down his inner thighs - tears poured down his cheeks. So the girl was not a girl. And if she wasn't a girl, what did that make him ... kissing her, fingering her, coming hard? Lucian rose to his feet. His legs trembled. All he saw were sun-dappled leaves as he looked around. How could he walk across the open lawn, looking like this - disheveled, flushed, his crotch a big stain? Falling to his knees again, he fought new tears. He jerked off a homo and fucked him in the ass with his fingers. He stared down on his hand and brought it to his nose. All he smelled was his own sperm, he guessed. In his mind he repeated 'homo - fucking - ass.' The words added up to a sickening truth, and yet, he couldn't tie it to Drew; he just couldn't put her sweet smiling face on it. Faggots were guys, weren't they, maybe with limp wrists and hysterical voices, but they were never like Drew. Drew might not be a girl, but she wasn't a guy either, was she? Lucian rubbed the tips of his fingers together. There had been a knob in her crotch, a distinct nub. He had never felt a girl's clitoris, but he was sure it hadn't been that - and not a penis either. He knew his own penis, didn't he? And he'd seen others' in school showers - small ones and intimidating thick and long ones. He'd felt his own penis grow and get hard in the grip of his jerking fist. Drew's had been soft; her whole crotch had been a soaking swamp; no hardness, no hair, no... balls. No balls? He tried to retrace his chaotic memories. No. There had been this little slippery bump, poking up like a baby's thumb from soft, swelling flesh. Feeling lower there had been slick skin, soft like a pillow until his fingers entered a tight hole, sliding in - no balls, no sac, nothing. But there had been sperm. A cold ripple ran up his spine. What did he know anyway? He'd seen the sperm; it had looked and smelled like his own. His fingers had been sticky with it. It welled up from the slit in the knob's head, flooding and ebbing like a pulse. Lucian groaned. The faces of elegant, ballet-shoed girls popped up in his mind; they were all smiling. He recalled Harper's smoldering gaze under the ink- black bangs, feeling the boy's fingers on his thigh, drawing circles. And he saw Charlie - the petite porcelain puppet. Lucian knew he had to get away. *** His clothes were gone from the room; the suitcase too. In his closet he found piles of neatly folded satiny outfits, pretty panties and ballet shoes. On a rack hung a number of standard oversized dress shirts in whites and pastels. His old teddy bear sat perched on his pillow, its one remaining ear bound with a satin bow. Lucian pulled off his sticky shorts. He'd run across the lawn as fast as he could; there hadn't been many people left. No one stopped him or even called out to him. The corridors were busier, but he ignored all passers-by until he stood panting in front of his own door. Lucian walked into his bathroom and washed his crotch. Studying his penis, he saw no changes but for the missing foreskin. His ball sac might be tighter, but his balls were there. He wondered what to wear. He could hardly see himself out there trying to hitch a ride in short shorts even if they weren't pink, or in ballet shoes either. There was no money and nothing to eat. He sagged down on the bed when knuckles rapped on the door. "Go away!" he yelled. The door opened; it couldn't be locked. The boy Harper stood against the light. "Sorry for what I did," he said in a low voice. "I didn't know..." Then he took a step forward, tilting his head as he studied Lucian's face. "Have you been crying?" he asked. "Go away," Lucian repeated, averting his eyes. But Harper didn't leave. Lucian felt a weight depressing the mattress next to him. An arm slid around his shoulder. He jumped to his feet. "I said go away!" Lucian stood panting - trembling. Harper looked up at him from the bed, his eyes calm. He wore a tight lycra sports outfit. It made him look thin, but toned. His black hair was a mess. Why was it so hard to admit the boy was gorgeous and that his beauty touched him? Lucian shook his head. "They are all boys, aren't they?" he asked. The boy on the bed said nothing. "Aren't they?" Lucian repeated. "Depends," Harper said, shrugging. "You mean Kelly and Mu and Jo, Cassidy and Taylor and us, the Bobs?" Lucian groaned. "Don't act stupid. I mean all of them," he said, raising his voice. To his frustration the boy shrugged again. "I guess so," he said. Lucian took a step closer, trembling from the need to shake the boy. "You guess so?" Harper leaned back, looking afraid. "I don't know what to call them!" he blurted out. "They look like girls, I mean the Barbs, don't they?" Lucian sank to his haunches in front of Harper, his hands resting on the bed at both sides of the boy's sleek, strong legs. "Drew is not a girl," he said, slowly. "She has a penis and no vagina. I saw it." Harper slumped, looking away. "You knew," Lucian said, rising. Harper looked up; his black eyes liquid. "Yes," he said. "Drew is not a girl; but she isn't a boy either, is she? You must have seen that too." Lucian recalled the tiny nub and the lack of balls, the softness. But he didn't want to talk about that. "Are the others like her?" he asked. Harper was silent. "The other Barbs?" Lucian insisted. "I only know of a few," Harper offered, almost whispering. "Just one more, really - Nico, and Drew of course." Lucian recalled the Asian girl waiting at the table, yesterday - the way he'd watched her ass. He sat down next to the boy. The bed squeaked. "What are they, Harper?" he asked. "Are they born that way? Is it an accident maybe? Or were they...?" He could not finish the thought. "I don't know," Harper said. "You should ask them." He rose from the mattress. "But I came to pick you up and take you to Mamselle," he said. "We have to run." Lucian stalled; then he followed. *** The room Harper took him to didn't look like a room at all. It was huge and tiled from floor to ceiling. There were no windows, just a horizontal glass slit that let the daylight in. It ran all around, high up where ceiling and walls met. It was a public bathroom, obviously, with showerheads on two walls, maybe twenty of them. One other wall was covered by a row of open closets. Lucian saw rungs and hangers. The last wall had wide ledges carrying neatly folded towels and piles of satiny garment. Everything was white - the tiles, the textiles and the closets. The red-haired boy, Kelly, was already there, naked, his skin a riot of freckles. He greeted Harper with a cry, embracing him in a bear hug. His skinny limbs were everywhere. His groping hands helped Harper to strip. They wrestled, grunting and groaning. The redhead's pale body made a striking contrast with the dark boy's olive skin. They were both thin and hairless but they sure were boys, penises and balls swinging as they wrestled. Their groans and screams echoed off the tiled walls. "Come," Harper said, panting as he pushed Kelly away. "Let's get showered." The classroom didn't look like a classroom either. When they sauntered in, only clad in short white robes, Lucian saw a row of mirrors along three of the walls. Below them were ledges carrying all kinds of pots and bottles and things. He saw brushes and sponges. The air was a riot of sweet scents. In the open space at the center of the room were barber's chairs. Next to one of them stood a tiny woman and a tall, blond girl - smiling. "You are Lucian," the small woman said. She pronounced his name 'Luci?n,' putting the emphasis on the last syllable. "L?cian," he corrected. She ignored him, turning to the blond girl while raising her eyebrows, questioning. "Hair," the girl said. "And the usual intro." The woman's dark button eyes were all over him. "Pas mal," she said. "Not bad." She took quick, silent steps toward him. Her blanched skin seemed spotless, her round face void of any wrinkles. She might be thirty or she might be sixty. A small, bony hand reached for his hair, touching the curls. "Si mignon," she whispered. "How cute." Her eyes squeezed into slits as a smile touched her cherry-red lips. Then she stepped aside and pointed at the chair. "Assied-toi, ch?ri. Please be seated." Lucian looked from her to Harper, who shrugged. The boy pointed at his own hair. "You'll get a haircut," he said. "A bob like us, the usual." Lucian leaned back, closing his eyes as hot water hit his scalp. Fingers ran through his hair, getting tangled up in its curls. "I'm Mackenzie. Everyone calls me Mac." He supposed the voice belonged to the hands washing his hair. "Lucian," he mumbled. The fingers massaged his skull; it felt good. "So thick and curly," the girl said. "You have lovely hair." He didn't respond, having heard the compliment often before, usually accompanied by the line 'like a girl's.' Keeping his eyes shut he sank deeper into the chair's cool leather. One by one his muscles relaxed; all sounds seemed to drown in the gurgling water. The hands started massaging the shampoo in, before once again rinsing it out with a spray of hot, soothing water. Perfume hung around him like a cloud, stirring an uneasy mixture of arousal and embarrassment. He knew the feeling; it hit him whenever he relaxed enough to stop minding. It caused a tingling of the skin, and a tightening of the crotch, always followed by a rush of shame. He sighed. Then a sticky, warm fluid engulfed the fingers of his right hand. It startled him. He looked and saw the blond top of another girl's head. She knelt at his side, her fingers rubbing the stuff over and around his nails. A freckled face looked up at him, smiling to show braced front teeth. "Hello, Lucian," she said with a lisp. "I'm Honor; I do your nails." She started filing. He just mumbled, as a towel sank over his head and hands started drying his hair. This was all wrong, he knew. He should pull himself free and run. "Call her Honey," the other girl said. "We all do." The girl with the brace looked up, smiling. Scissors snapped at his hair; a girl filed the nails of his fingers and toes. Then a blower sent hot wind through his hair; a hand lifted it, pushing it left and right. He should feel irritated, embarrassed, alarmed - but he didn't. He just felt woozy from being handled, taken care of with so much attention. It was all, just, well, too much. Then hands tugged at the sash on his robe. He tried to stop them, but was too late. Cool air caressed his exposed body. "You can't," he said, but it was a whisper, drowned in gasps from the girls. "Il est beau, non?" It was the voice of the petite woman. He felt fingertips run over his skin. "Doux et blanc - soft and pale, hardly any hair at all." As the hand reached the skin over his penis, Lucian pulled free and jumped off the chair. His hands covered his crotch; he trembled. "Don't!" he said. "Just don't." His voice sounded higher than he intended. Closing the short robe around him he made for the exit - pushing aside the girl Mackenzie. The door was locked. He turned around. "Open it!" he yelled. "Let me out." The girls looked at him in silence; so did the boys who were in the back of the room. The petite lady shrugged. "Don't be a fool, Lucian," she said, her accent almost gone. Her small hand patted the chair's armrest. "Come and sit. We obviously need to talk." Lucian didn't budge. His hand pushed down the door's handle - to no avail. "I don't want this," he said, glad that his voice sounded almost normal. "None of... of this." He made an encompassing gesture indicating the room. The woman smiled. God, he got sick of the omnipresent smiling. She turned to Harper. "Show him... 'Arp?r, please?" she asked. Harper flicked the dark bangs out of his eyes. He rose and, walking forward, opening his robe. It fell to the floor. "You too," the woman said, addressing Kelly as she snapped her fingers. Kelly rose too, dropping his robe. The two stood together, arms crossed at their backs, showing their naked bodies, one slick and olive, the other spangled with a myriad of freckles. Harper's penis was dark and quite long. Kelly's was pink and stubby. The petite woman turned back to Lucian. "You see what I see?" she asked. He didn't respond. His hand still held the door's handle. "I see two boys," the woman went on, walking over to Harper on her soundless slippers. She let her tiny hand run over his shoulder and down his arm. "And they aren't ugly, not even clumsy or bony like many boys their age. They are beautiful." She stretched the last word, emphasizing the last syllable. It allowed her accent to crawl back in. Flashing a smile to Lucian she said: "And you don't want this?" Lucian watched her hand touch Harper's hip. The boy looked straight ahead. "You make them into girls. I don't want to become a girl!" The words left him like a hoarse, raspy groan, curling up into a whine. The silence it created lasted for two seconds before it was filled with a chuckle. "Ah oui!" the woman said, turning the word into a hissing sigh. "Who'd ever want to be a girl?" Her hand reached for Harper's crotch, cradling his soft penis and balls. "Do you, 'Arp?r?" she asked him. "Do you want to become a girl?" The boy never looked down. "Of course not, Mamselle," he said. Mamselle kept her eyes on the dark, rather plump penis. Her thumb started caressing its exposed head. Then she smiled up at the boy, whose face blushed deeply. "Don't be ashamed of its size, it'll get better," she said, nodding. "Undress please, Mackenzie," she went on, pronouncing it Mackahns?e. "You too, 'On?r." There was a soft rustle of clothes when both girls obliged. They stood straight, hands on their backs like the boys. Their feet stood in a silk puddle of discarded clothes. Mackenzie was a head taller than the other blonde; she was also more tanned, except for little pale triangles over her nipples. Her chest curved softly, but there were no breasts. And in a triangle frame of whiteness over her crotch Lucian saw a stubby knob against bare, hairless skin. The girl Honor was all-pale and petite. Her nipples were pale too, surrounded by areolas of pink - and in the cradle of her thighs rested a soft little penis. They might not be boys, but they certainly couldn't be girls. They had the hair of angels and the faces of cherubs, but the crotches of a boy child. Lucian's fingers tightened around the handle. "I'm not... this," he insisted nodding to the naked couple, but there was a hesitation in his voice - a question mark? "No," the woman said, losing her thin-lipped smile. "But you will be." "I... won't." Lucian heard his hesitation. "Ever," he added. Mamselle nodded. Then she turned to the naked foursome. "Please leave us for a bit, mes enfants," she asked, handing Harper the key. They picked up their robes and hurried off. Harper touched Lucian's hand as he went for the handle to open the door. Lucian withdrew as if stung. "Sit down, please, Lucien," the small woman asked when they were alone, giving his name a French ring. "We really need to talk." The longer he stood, the sillier he felt. The door was unlocked now, he could leave. The woman seemed to read his mind. "Yes," she said, walking closer. "You can run, ch?ri. No doubt you're good at that - done it a lot. But what is the point? Where would you run? Or even more precise: what is it really that you run from?" Her smile was gone now. Her eyes were big and dark. A small hand reached for his; he didn't withdraw. "You can't keep running from yourself, Lucien," she went on. He let her take his hand and lead him to the chair. The still warm leather sighed as he sat down. He felt the silk of the robe caress his thighs as it fell open. Hurriedly he gripped it to close it again. Mamselle stood real close. She smelled sweet. "Right now, Lucien," she said, "you cling to being nobody." Her voice was soft and neutral. "Do you know why?" It was one of those teacher questions he hated. She set up the premise so only her 'why' would count. The whole question was bullshit: first she decides he's nobody and then she asks him why. "I'm not... ," he started. "Oh but yes," she interrupted, nodding fiercely. "You are. You are nobody because you are too damn chicken to be somebody." All French had gone now. "You know that you're not a real male, never will be; you'll never be accepted as one. You know you might be accepted as a homosexual - you might even be very successful..." She smiled before going on. "But you're not homosexual, are you? You even hate them." She held his gaze for a while. "And you won't be a girl either," she went on. "Although you'd make the image of a stunning woman." Another smile. "See how many somebodies you could be if you just wanted to?" Her hand touched his forearm. He didn't pull away. "Lucien," she said, almost whispering as her face came closer to his. "You could be the most beautiful creature I ever met. If only you would choose." Her flowery breath washed the final word over his face. He refused to agree. Why would he have to choose? No boy had to, did he? "I want to leave," he said, sitting up straighter. "I don't belong here." Mamselle moved back, spreading her hands. Her unperturbed smile was killing him. "So you run," she said, stepping further back to make room. "Well, that's a choice too, I guess. Nobody will stop you. It's easy, you know, leaving here. The gate isn't really locked. And I guess every red- blooded truck driver passing by will stop for this angelic hitch hiking doll in silky shorts and ballet slippers." She chuckled, lifting both hands in a 'voila'-kind of gesture. "I doubt if after he stops he'll ever stop again though, ch?ri." He hated her for saying exactly what had been on his mind all day. "I need my old clothes back," he said. "Why can't I get them? You stole them; they are mine." Mamselle stepped closer again. Her doll-like face moved slowly left and right. "You remember, don't you?" she asked. "Remember how it was out there - the teasing, the bullying. It won't be different now; no... it will get worse, jeans or no jeans. So where will you go? What will you do? They'll eat you alive. We're your only chance, Lucien. We love you. We're here to protect you." Her face was right in front of him again; the pale, immaculate skin, the dark doll's eyes, the open lips - the sweet, sweet scent. She was right, of course. But she couldn't be, could she? What would be left for him if she were right? "Bullshit," he said. Her lashes fluttered. "Don't use words like that, ch?ri," she said, a little whine in her voice. "They make you look ugly." He shuddered. Goddammit, he had to get away from this. Now. He rose. The woman didn't stop him; she even stepped aside. The door wasn't locked. The two blond Barbies and the boys were still in the big bathroom. They had dressed again and watched him cross the tiled floor without a word. *** Reaching his room, he sat down on his bed, torn up by hopeless plans and even more desperate counter plans. A slight headache started building behind his brow. Looking up he saw part of his face in the mirror. The woman was right. He was his own trap. Even if he'd find his jeans and shirt, and a jacket, he'd never get away with it. He had no place to go to, no money. He'd have to throw himself at people's mercy. Where could he run to? Home? His mother would bring him back at once. His father would kill him, if he were around. Where could he hide; how would he live? He once more looked at himself, trying to see what people would see - and what they would think. They might not take him for a girl, but wouldn't that be worse? The styled hair, the narrow, soft face, the eyes... "A damn faggot," he murmured. He remembered Mamselle's words about the truck driver that might pick him up. It made him shiver. He could wear a cap, if he could find one, or even cut his hair. Hide his body, lower his voice. But it would still be him, wouldn't it? Lucian watched his hand caressing his thigh. The polished nails dented the skin - so soft, slick. Damn body. What did the woman say? The problem wasn't where to run to, but where to run from. He was his own prison. Tears left his eyes and ran down his cheeks. Then the door opened. Against the light was the blurred silhouette of a tall girl - Drew? "What do you want? Go away." His voice was thick; it sounded more helpless than angry. The girl ignored his advice, stepping inside and sitting next to him, like Harper had. Her fingers lifted his curly bangs. "Don't cry, please, Lucian," she said. All it did was make him cry harder, until his shoulders shook. He hated how she embraced him, pulling his face against her chest while making little sounds of comfort. But his arms went around her, holding her tight. His tears soaked her robe. All stress flowed from his body. Hands lifted his head; calm gray eyes studied his ruined face. Then soft lips found his, incredibly weak lips slipping and sliding on the slickness of his tears and snot. A tongue pressed against his teeth until they opened. He stopped thinking, feeling the headache seep away. He just let himself drown, plunging deeper into waves of sweet-smelling, careless happiness. He still shook from sobbing - or was it sobbing? He floated. Lucian had never held a girl like this, or whatever the gender might be that he was clinging to right now. The body was soft, sweet. It made him feel weightless, like a wispy insect in a spider's web - a butterfly pinned on the sweet, insisting tongue. He didn't care. He did not care. They kissed and hugged for minutes before coming up like exhausted swimmers. Drew smiled. It was a new smile; a smile only for him. Her fingers removed strands of hair sticking to his glowing face. "Silly boy," she said and they laughed. Lucian knew he was being pushed and pulled, torn down and built up. Maybe this girl took advantage of him too. He was shattered and she held the pieces. She might be taking advantage of him at this lowest point in his life. Maybe she was also used to help tear him down. He didn't know. He didn't know if he should care any longer - the web was everywhere. He was tired, exhausted, and she was there. She was sweet and soft, licking the tears off his face, rocking him in her embrace. He was alone; more lonesome than even he had ever been. Drew undressed him and planted soft kisses all over his chest. She licked his nipples and his navel - traveling down. The palm of her hand urged him softly to decline. He rested on his elbows, looking down the pale, narrow path of his upper body to where her blond hair obstructed his view. But he felt her. A familiar rush made his invisible penis swell as her lips kissed the skin around it. Then her tongue touched the exposed tip, licking its rim and the slit of its entrance. He closed his eyes and moaned. Liquid heat engulfed his cock, massaging every square millimeter of it. "Do... don't," he muttered, but the words hardly amounted to a sigh. His protesting hand hung in the air before falling back to the bed. Drew sucked in his penis, balls and all. Her tongue danced a maddening dance around it. More blood rushed to his crotch, but the heat started spreading. His arms and legs tingled, as did the skin of his neck and skull. Then a finger found the entrance of his anus, slipping in, finding hidden spots that sent currents of electricity everywhere. The sensation was too much and he came with a cry, spurting his sperm into the moist, hot glove that held him captive. But it didn't stop. He groaned when a new, prowling orgasm crept in on the tail of its predecessor. It started at his clawing toes and washed over his body - only to return and flush him all over again, and again. Waves and wavelets flooded every niche of his arching body. A spell of dizziness overwhelmed him. Then the arch broke and he crumpled, falling into fragments on the bed - sobbing. "Sweet silly boy," a voice said. There was a giggle. *** The essence of youth is to experience things for the first time. It's an irretrievable quality, making older people desperately jealous. When life came back to Lucian, he was alone on the bed. A cool breeze licked at the film of sweat on his body. He felt mangled - his muscles were sore, even his bones ached. He also felt both emptied and fulfilled. It was very confusing. His eyes traveled down his body, where his shrunken cock lay pink and slick with moisture. Its exposed head rested on the red, glowing ball sac that contrasted fiercely with the pale skin around it. The head still twitched, feeling hot. Slime oozed from its slit, like a snail's trail. He reached for it when the sliding door of his shower made him look up. It was Drew, her hair damp and her body naked inside a white towel. She chuckled, when he pulled his hand back in a hurry. "Up again, already?" she asked, grinning. He mumbled and sat up. "Did they send you?" he asked. The question chased the grin off her face. She grabbed a pillow and hit him with it, causing the towel to slip. She hit him again before he took hold of the pillow and pulled it from her hands. The pulling made her fall on the bed, sprawling naked. Her face was red, her eyes dark under a damp mass of unruly hair. "Nobody sent me," she panted. "Damn, Lucian, why would you say that? You spoil everything." She crawled up until she was kneeling, staring down on him. "I like you, Lucian," she went on. "I see how you suffer and I damn care for you, you ungrateful bastard." As she screamed at him, his eyes automatically found her exposed crotch with the telltale knob on the smooth, bare skin. It looked as red and agitated as his own penis. "Stop staring," she said, but a smile replaced her anger. She grabbed his hand and brought it to her crotch. He tried pulling away, but she was strong. She bent forward, searching for his eyes. "Are you afraid of me, Lucian?" she asked. "I took you in my mouth, remember? I wasn't afraid. I swallowed your sperm." He stared into her dancing pupils, feeling a heat rise up his throat. Was it shame, embarrassment? She'd comforted him. She'd let him cry out his misery. Was he asshole enough to refuse her now? "I'm sorry," he muttered, giving up his resistance. "I feel so confused." Her face relaxed at once; her eyebrows rose and her lips pouted. "Yes," she said. "I guess they're being very hard on you." His palm rested on the knob now; it felt hot and slick and it seemed to pulse. He looked up to find her flushed face. "Tell me about you, Drew," he said. "Did you go through the same thing?" "No, I guess I had it easier," she said, covering his hand with both of hers as she slowly squirmed against his palm. Her voice was soft, slightly trembling. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. "You see, Lucian," she went on, reopening her eyes. "We are all a bit the same here, and a lot different. For you this school may feel like a prison where you've been dumped, expecting nothing but horrible things. For me it was, well... freedom." She gyrated her belly faster, pushing herself more intensely against his hand as she softly moaned. He kept watching her eyes; they'd closed again. Her pink tongue moistened her lips. Then she shuddered, mewling like a kitten. Both her hands squeezed his as her thighs became a vice. Her body tensed up for a second; then she relaxed again. Opening her eyes, she smiled. 'Thank you,' she mimed. When he pulled back there were strands of clear, sticky stuff stretching between her crotch and his hand. She took his hand again and brought it to her mouth, licking the slime off his palm. She smiled, watching him. "You look shocked," she said with a giggle. "Why is it different for you - freedom even?" he asked, ignoring her remark. She shrugged and stretched herself next to him, not bothering to get dressed. Resting the back of her head on her hands, she looked at the ceiling. "My parents died when I was 6," she began. "I have hardly any close kin, so I ended up in a foster family, and then another foster family. After a third try I was 10 and miserable and abused and lonely. I guess I was like the boy in the French novel 'Nobody's Boy.' I maybe read it a million times, you know it?" "Go on," he said. She muttered. "Anyway," she went on. "When this third family didn't work, I ended up in a boarding school - not this one, but one like it, a kind of middle school. I was 12 by then." She paused. "You have to know I was a queer kid," she went on. Lucian snorted. "Let me guess," he said. "You hated sports, ran away from fights and still got beaten all the time." "Yes," she said. "I guess you know the routine. But I got beaten up by girls. I wanted to be with them, be like them, ever since I can remember. I guess I wanted to be one of them, but they chased me off and ridiculed me - sometimes sending boys after me to beat me up." Lucian felt her shiver against him. He tried to move an awkward arm around her, but the pillow was in the way. "Boarding school was different," Drew resumed, after pushing her body closer to his. "I mean: different from my other schools. There was tolerance for boys like me. Teachers pointed out they wouldn't accept bullying. I guess most boys there were homo's in the making anyway, and the girls let me play with them, even wear their clothes." Lucian raised his hand and let it float over her crotch. "And this?" he asked. "Did they do that to you there?" Drew faked not understanding what he meant. She looked at him, at his dangling hand and then at her little fat knob. At last she chuckled. "Ah, you mean my pipi?" she said. "I prefer to call it my clit and no, it has always been like this - maybe it grew a bit fatter in my puberty. Don't you love it? I do, I think it's beautiful." She took it between her thumb and forefinger, causing a drop of clear fluid to well from the exposed slit. She rubbed a finger over it and brought it to his lips. "Wanna taste?" she asked. When he shook his head 'no,' she shrugged and licked it off herself. "Mmmm," she said. "I taste good, you know?" "I told you they circumcised me here without asking," he said after a moment of silence. "I guess you knew already; you were there to look after me. But did you know they injected my balls too, when I was out?" He watched her closely. She shrugged again. "I knew you were circumcised," she said. "Nothing special there." He looked away. "Have you been castrated?" he then asked. Drew inhaled sharply. "God no!" she exclaimed as the air left her again. "What do you think I just licked off your hand?" Lucian looked pointedly at her smooth crotch. "No balls," he said. She followed his gaze, then smiled. "Ah, I see," she said. "But I do have them, don't worry. They just never came out. Sometimes that happens." She took his hand and moved it where her balls should have been. The skin felt soft, but tight. "They're inside," she repeated. "Alive and kicking." Her skin was smooth like cream; no hair, not even a telltale speckling of shaven follicles. "I'm beautiful, don't you think, Lucian?" she whispered, squeezing his hand. "Tell me I am." He knew he agreed she was. But he could not say it. He just could not make his mouth say it. A slight shadow of disappointment darkened her face. "What about the other girls?" he asked, but she kept silent. He looked up and saw moisture on her cheeks. He rose on his elbow. "I'm sorry," he said. "You are beautiful; as a girl, I mean." She moved her face away. "I'm not a girl, stupid," she muttered into her pillow. Then she returned her face to him. "You are stupid, like everybody out there. You see me as a girl, so you think my clit makes me an ugly freak!" She slapped her crotch as she said it. When she raised her hand again, he grabbed it. Her eyes flew his way - dark and angry. "I'm sorry," he said. "And I lied. You are beautiful... it is beautiful." "Prove it!" she said, squeezing his hand. "Prove what?" "Take it in your mouth." He felt the heat of a blush. Time passed. Her angry eyes closed; she shook her head slowly. "I knew it," she whispered. Lucian brought his head closer to her crotch. He smelled the sweet perfume of her skin, and a deeper, muskier scent when he was right over her drooling button. He felt her hand on his hair, pulling him further down. He gulped and opened his lips. His head was in turmoil. A steady buzz overwhelmed his screaming panic as the round, rubbery object slid past his parting teeth, just about touching his tongue. She was in, and getting deeper in as she pulled his face into the creamy flesh of her lower body. "Suck," she said, her voice drowning in the buzz. He closed his lips around the tiny, fat penis. It felt hot to his tongue and the soft insides of his lips. "Harder." She tasted sweet; it must be the soap and lotion from her showering. But there also was a slightly tangy edge to it that increased as he sucked harder. The girl started bumping into his face as she repeated her instruction to suck harder. But her words got scrambled from fast breathing and high-pitched moaning. Both her hands were clasped over his skull now and she pulled him into a faster rhythm. He gasped to find air whenever he could. "My ass!" he heard; it almost sounded like a sob. "Fuck my ass!" She raised her lower body, folding her long legs backward and holding them in place with her hands clutching her ankles. His head free now, Lucian raised it. Letting go of her penis he watched the flushed, shining mess of her crotch. "Do it!" she cried. "Put a finger in." Her hands left the ankles and clutched her ass cheeks, pulling them apart. Lucian saw the tight entrance of her anus. It seemed to gasp - like a little child's mouth opening and closing. He touched it with a forefinger. Drew shivered. Then she pushed forward, making the finger slide in. "Oh God," she groaned and pushed again. The finger disappeared to the knuckle. The soft flesh burned around it like a tiny oven, sucking on it like he had sucked on her penis. "Fuck me, dammit," she hissed, "and suck my cock." Lucian went back to her penis, taking it in as he started to fuck her anus slowly, afraid to hurt her. The tang was more pronounced now, almost tart - and she was very wet. "Harder, fuck me harder!" He did. "Two fingers!" He pulled out and added a second finger, stretching her glowing sphincter. He also increased his sucking. "Yes! Yes!" Her voice broke as she pushed back into his prodding. "Deeper! Find it - deeper! Turn... up, up. No, yes, yes." Maybe he found what she begged for; he had no idea, but Drew started to buck and arch her body as he massaged her inner bowels as deep as he could get - twisting, searching with the tips of his fingers. She got suddenly quiet, holding her body stiff, only resting on her head and heels. No voice, no breathing - And then she exploded into an orgy of spasms. Gush after gush of hot, salty-bitter liquid flushed the back of his tongue, pooling against his throat, backing up and seeping out again past the plug of her throbbing penis. Through the roaring of his own blood he heard her scream and scream again. Her fingers clawed into his scalp, her thighs squeezed his head until she just as suddenly fell back on the bed, limp and panting - a tremor rippling her skin. She seemed unconscious, but her body kept shaking with little spasms. Her lashes fluttered, showing the white of her eyes; and she mumbled - not words, just sounds. Drew had come in his mouth and Lucian had swallowed the first load before realizing what he did. And when he did realize, he gagged. He couldn't help it. It made bile and sperm flow back into his mouth, causing him to gag even more. He felt sick - and he felt guilty for feeling sick. Drew had swallowed his sperm gladly, why couldn't he? Lucian watched the semi-conscious girl for another minute - seeing the sweat on her flushed skin, the fluttering eyes, and the twitching legs. Then he crawled off the bed and went into his tiny bathroom where he drank water and gargled to clean his mouth. When he returned, Drew knelt on the bed. "You spit it out," she said. Her voice was a monotone. There was no accusation, just the stating of fact. "I'm sorry," he said. "It made me gag. I've never before..." Drew knee-walked towards him. When she was at the edge of the bed, she took Lucian's face in her hands. She pulled him to her and kissed him with her weak, wide-open lips, effectively cutting off his words. "I understand," she said when she finally let go. "Don't feel sorry - ever. You just took me to heaven." Lucian felt clumsy. The girl knew so much more than he did; not just about lovemaking, just... everything... how to be a person, a nice human being, open, friendly; how to smile and joke. How to accept who she was - or he, or whatever. Lucian sat down on the bed. Drew slid beside him, her arm around his shoulders. "Now tell me about you," she asked. He shrugged. "No story," he said. "I just don't want to be here; I want to run away." He felt her stiffen. "But why, Lucian?" Her voice was a whisper. "I don't belong here," he said. She slid off the bed and knelt in front of him, reaching for his face. Her thumbs removed the curls from his brow. "Don't leave, Lucian!" she insisted. "It'll be such a shame. You can be the very best this school ever had, you know? The most beautiful and the fastest and cleverest and sweetest, and successfulest. Where else would you go? Who'll give you the chances you get here?" He leaned back to get away from her hands. "Sounds like Kurtz," he said. "Did she tell you to go to me and say that?" She blushed. "Of course not!" She sounded indignant. "But she did talk to you about me." Drew blushed deeper. "I thought so." She got hold of his hands, bringing them up and kissing them. "It isn't as you think, Lucian," she said softly, holding his gaze. "Yes, she asked me to go see you; but what I did tell you were my thoughts, my wishes. Don't leave, Lucian. Not this school, not me... Stay. It'll all get so much better." 'Not me, she said,' he thought. She said he shouldn't leave her. "Why did you say that?" he asked. She looked confused. "What?" she asked, eyes wide. "About you not running off?" "No," he answered, retracting his hands. "About me not leaving you. What do you mean?" Drew's blush returned with a vengeance. "Nothing," she mumbled. "Just don't leave me, Lucian." "Then come with me," he proposed. "Let's run off together." She didn't respond to that. What she did do was turn away and pick up her silk panties. She stepped into them and pulled them up over her smooth legs, her crotch and ass. The little red knob pushed its small but still swollen presence into the shiny material, like a fat nipple. Then Drew picked up her shorts and top and shirt, donning them. Bending over for her shoes Lucian admired her supple, slender body. She was a dancer and a runner. She was beautiful. And she'd asked him not to leave her. His hand reached out, almost touching her shining curves. Then she rose again and the moment passed. She stood in front of him, slightly taller. The white ballet shoes dangled from her hand. She didn't smile. "Don't go, Lucian," she said and gave his nose a peck with her pouting lips. "Promise." Then she turned and was gone. *** I guess it is a female thing to meddle with other people's lives, wanting to save them from themselves. Mother knows best, and all that. When evening came, Lucian started feeling weak from hunger. He'd stayed in bed after Drew left, naked, thinking - and recalling his first experiences of real sex with a live, soft body. A girl? He couldn't bring himself to think of her as that. She'd sucked him; he'd sucked her and fucked her with his fingers. In his memories he called her a she, but maybe that was just because if he didn't, what would that make of him? His mind objected to what he did, but his penis swelled and rose from its soft little bed, twitching. Girl or not, Drew excited and aroused him whenever he thought of her... him... it? There was a constant buzz in his head, and it distracted him from what he should really be thinking about: escape. But then again, if escape really was what he wanted, why did he have to force himself to keep it top of mind? He sighed and once more touched his penis. It didn't really get hard, it just... swelled. It pulsed and once in a while a drop of clear liquid escaped its slit. Lucian was a boy, even younger than his age. Young boys aren't philosophers. They move and react before they think. They don't know how to reflect on things happening inside them - like wondering why the buzz in his head had the exact same frequency as the ebbing and flooding of his tingling penis. He shrugged and let go of the small, hot member, trying to return to his haphazard plotting. To get out successfully he needed his old clothes. He knew that, but he didn't know where they were and how to get to them. He also needed transport. He recalled how far his mother had driven through an almost empty landscape of rolling hills. Would there even be enough cars passing by to hitch hike? He remembered seeing a movie where inmates hid in laundry baskets to get out. But as far as he knew, the school was entirely self-supporting. Maybe he could hide in waste bins? Only pondering it made him gag. And then his stomach growled. Damn, his tiny alarm clock said it was almost eight. He scrambled off the bed, grabbing his shorts and shirt. The laces of his ballet shoes got hopelessly entangled, so he threw them away and ran barefoot through the corridors. Two girls in long aprons were busy putting the chairs on the empty tables, and mopping the tiled floor of the big dining hall. One of them was the Asian girl who had been serving him at the late dinner he had with Parker and Kurtz. What was her name again? Nico. "Oh my God," he said. "I'm late." He stood panting, feeling awkward. The girl Nico put down a chair and turned to check him out - the wrinkled clothes, the bare feet and his messy hair. She grinned. "Oversleeping for dinner," she said. "That's a first." The other girl chuckled. She was a tall redhead, thin as a reed, her face all smiles. "You're Lucian, aren't you?" Nico went on. "I remember your hair. Weren't you eating with Parker and Kurtz?" He nodded. "Sorry," he said. "I guess all the food is gone?" Nico frowned as if thinking hard. She turned to the other girl and they started the age-old game of teasing someone entirely in their power. "Poor boy," Nico said. "Poor boy," the red head agreed. "I can hear his tummy growl from here." They giggled. Nico got closer, prodding his stomach with a hard finger. "We shouldn't fatten them up, our little Bob puppies, eh, Sandy?" she said, grinning. "You're right," the girl Sandy responded. "They're getting chubbier by the day." They both laughed out loud now. Lucian knew they were just joking, but the hunger, the weakness and the terror of the day made him collapse. Tears sprang from his eyes and he turned around to leave. A hand stopped him. "Oh my, honey," the Asian girl said, wrapping an arm around him. "Don't cry. Of course we have some food left for you. Come, sit down here, Sandy will get you a bite." She led Lucian to a small table in a corner, cleaning it with a rag after he sat down. Then she got him a big glass of fruit juice and joined him on another chair. He shook himself, trying to stop the sobbing. Her hand rested on his forearm. Why had they all to be so damn friendly? "Drink," she said. He took a long, deep draft. He had no idea what fruit was in it. It tasted tangy, maybe grapefruit. "Drew told me your mom dumped you here," Nico said. "And that you had your pipi clipped against your will. I can see how that would make me feel." Lucian took another gulp and didn't answer. He just studied the girl; her perfectly oval face, the dark slanted eyes, the short blue-black hair. It was hard to not see her as a girl, even more so than Drew. She looked soft and smooth all over - her bare arms, her dainty fingers, and whatever skin the low-cut apron showed. And yet she wasn't. There was this tiny sperm-spewing thing in her panties, and it was all he could think of now. He finished the glass. As he put it down, he missed the table by an inch, but he never heard it shatter on the floor. Soft female arms stopped him before he slid off his chair. *** Things were all white again, and out of focus. He knew where he was, even before really looking. Maybe it was the smell, or the feel of the place. "Lucian?" He knew the voice too, even before seeing the crookedly smiling mouth it came from. "Go away," he tried to say from a parched throat. He turned his face away. His balls throbbed in a familiar way. His head ached. He never felt as alone as he did right now. A hand touched his shoulder; he shrugged to shake it off, but it returned - warm and insisting. "Leave me alone," he said; the words came out garbled. "Don't be mad, please, Lucian," the good doctor said. "It is all for the best, believe me." That was when he cried a mighty cry; or he thought so. Maybe it was just a groan - or worse: a whine. Trying to sit up took him two tries. He just felt too tired. "Don't force it, honey. Here, let me help you," Dr. Kurtz said, and her hands helped him sit up against a pile of pillows. Dizziness clouded his eyes for a minute. "You drugged me," he then said to the vague silhouette beside the bed. It morphed into Dr. Kurtz for sure. She wore a white coat and a guilty smile. Her pale hand patted his thigh through the blanket. "How do you feel now?" she asked, disregarding his accusation. He groaned, ignoring her question too. Her smile faded for a moment. "It doesn't have to be like this, Lucian," she said. "You see, all this talk about running off isn't in your best interest. It is our responsibility to protect you." Her hand now caressed his thigh. "The world hates you, Lucian; you shouldn't be out there, not now. They'll eat you alive." He turned towards her, focusing on her face for the first time. She looked tired, he thought - tired eyes, tired mouth. "So in here they love me?" he said. "You love me so much that you drug me and inject me when I'm out; and you make eunuchs fuck me so they can keep you informed? I guess I prefer to be hated." The hand patted his leg again; the smile returned in full force. "Dear, dear Lucian," she said. "You're so angry, and believe me, I understand. The world treated you horribly. You are beautiful and bright and talented, but all you get is fear and hatred." He shook his head as if wanting to chase away a buzzing insect. "You understand nothing!" he said, hating how his voice broke, ending the sentence with a sob. The doctor's eyes fluttered at his vehemence. Her smile disappeared as she moved her face in closer. "Believe me, darling, I do." Her eyes were big and moist now. They arrested his wandering gaze; he could not look away. Her face seemed... naked; a hint of hurt surfacing. Yes, he believed she did understand, even if he didn't want her to. "I can understand your mother too," she went on. "You know, a week before she brought you, she was here to talk with Ms. Parker and me about you. She cried her eyes out, hardly able to tell her story. She cares for you, Lucian, she fought for you. It may cost her her marriage." He guffawed and laughed. "Marriage? What marriage?" Kurtz blinked again. "She saved you, Lucian, by bringing you here." "She should have asked me." A smile found its crooked way back to Dr. Kutz's mouth. "Yes," she said. "Maybe she should have. But she was afraid you wouldn't understand and refuse. You would have refused, wouldn't you?" He knew he would have. He also very much doubted his mother's heroism. But that wasn't the point, was it? The point was... ah, well what's the use? "So what did you do to me this time without asking?" he asked, changing the subject. "Inject my balls? Castrate me at last, getting it over with?" The doctor frowned - a slight blush seeped through her pasty skin. Then she sighed and rose. "You need sleep, Lucian," she said, sounding as businesslike as her lips allowed. "The girl will bring you supper. I'll see you tomorrow." And she turned to leave. "Coward," Lucian whispered. *** The girl brought soup and fruit and then left him to get some rest. Of course he couldn't sleep, after this awful day of treason and manipulation. He'd thought Drew might love him, but in the end she was nothing but a spying whore for the school's management and so was the Asian girl. He guessed the whole school was one big network of snitches and traitors, aimed at his surrender. As he lay there, studying the dark ceiling and wallowing in his self- pity, the throbbing of his balls became more prominent. He'd already checked with his hand that there was no bandaging, but the sac felt puffed and glowing. By the light of the small reading-lamp he threw back the blanket and pulled down the boys' briefs he wore. His penis was as limp and small and pale as ever, but his ball sac looked dark and swollen. He touched it and winced; not so much of pain as of a deep, pulsing sensitivity. The small head twitched and rose from the puffed bed it rested on. A sudden bubbling of liquid sparkled in the light. It bathed the exposed glans, making it shine. His toes clawed from the orgasmic rush. Reaching for the head, he spread the clear, slimy substance all over the tingling helmet, panting as he touched its rim. He felt the heartbeat in the vein that ran up the short stem. A new gulp of clear goo welled up and ran down until it pooled at the root of his now swollen penis. Groaning he kept massaging the head, shaking at each small, rippling orgasm it caused. His mind called it orgasm, but to be true he'd never felt anything like it. There was no build-up as he knew it, just a slow flooding and ebbing. As he increased the pressure of his slippery finger the almost painful sensation sank deeper into the stem of his penis and down to his balls. It made his anus close and open, and his thighs tremble uncontrollably. At last his crotch gleamed with a growing pool of moisture, sinking between his thighs and soaking the mattress. The pulsing sensation had by then spread through his entire body, making him shake and moan with every wave. He felt like a glowing torch in the quiet, dusky room, burning brighter with every little climax he produced. He had no idea where it would take him. He just went on rubbing and massaging the head, until the heat gradually subsided and the alien sensations ebbed away. He grabbed the short stalk to salvage whatever was left in a desperate jerk-off, but his penis softened and shrank. Soon he could hardly hold it anymore. Lucian lay trembling for minutes in the quiet, empty room, until a tremendous sense of fatigue overwhelmed him. Pulling