Lucian, Ch. 6. free porn video

Lucian, Chapter Six. Some scents arouse us in conflicting ways. They incite lust as well as fear, desire as well as apprehension - they're like a blend of cold sweat and intoxicating perfume. The 25th of June arrived, and Norton's Academy of Excellence was in turmoil. Lucian learned that it was an important date; it was the day, 16 years ago, when the school had been established. It also was a day of reunion, when sponsors and alumni came from all over the States to meet and celebrate. And it was the first time Lucian heard about a Third Level. Norton's curriculum wasn't divided in years or semesters; there were just consecutive levels to master, however long each might take. Bobs were First Level, Barbs Second. And now he understood there was a Third Level: students informally nicknamed Boobs, who hardly ever came to Norton's anymore. Lucian heard whispers about them. Especially to Barbs they were almost mystical creatures - a kind of celebrities that should be envied and emulated. The rumors said that these Third Level students did quality internships, or had already started carriers as actors or dancers, singers or models, some even abroad, in places like Paris and Italy. If they still followed classes it must be at a different academy; Lucian heard about one somewhere in California. Adding to the thrill was the news that quite a few Third Level girls might attend the festivities this year. Graduating from a level wasn't decided by time, it was marked by personal development - and that development was quite divers amongst the individual Bobs and Barbies. Harper, for instance had already been a Bob for a year when Lucian arrived, but he didn't expect to graduate anytime soon. Charlie, on the other hand, arrived only months before Lucian, and he was supposed to already be very close to reaching Second Level. Even Kelly might graduate before Harper. And what about Lucian himself? At one of his frequent check ups he asked Dr. Kurtz how it worked. She peeled the blue latex gloves off her fingers and threw them in the bin next to the examination table. Lucian let his legs dangle; being naked didn't bother him much anymore - it had become too common. Neither did he worry about the dripping of his spent penis - or the tingling of his anus that still echoed probing fingers and instruments. "Well," she said, putting small glass tubes holding samples of his sperm and blood in a fridge, "you should ask Ms. Parker about that. She has the last word, but she regularly consults with a number of teachers, and with me. Of course there must be room available at the next level." Lucian watched the sparkling arches his polished toenails made as he let his feet swing through the air. "Why does it take some longer than others?" he asked. Kurtz smiled. "You may dress, honey," she said, walking over to her desk. He picked up his satin top and pulled it over his hair. It was cream- colored and stretched tightly around his chest. "Is it the size of the penis?" he asked. The doctor snorted with laughter. She turned around, her eyes finding his. "Of course not, silly," she said, her mouth doing its dubious smile. "Why on earth would you think that?" He reached for his panties, but she checked his hand. Pushing at his naked inner thigh she gave herself a better view of his genitals. They were still pink from her ministrations. She chuckled. "If that would be the criterion, honey, you'd be past Third Level already." Rising, she let her smile fade. "Please sit down," she said. They sat at her desk; it was strewn with objects and papers. "A mistake most regular schools make," she began, "is to believe all students grow up in more or less the same time and with the same speed." She smiled, looking him up and down. "You, honey, of all people should know how wrong that is. Now look at your classmates. Take Charlie and compare him to, say, Kelly. Who would you graduate first?" He knew very well it should be Charlie. But why he automatically thought so was quite disturbing, to say the least. "It's Charlie, of course," Kurtz said for him when he didn't answer. "Because he is the most girly," Lucian blurted out. The doctor stared at him; then she slowly shook her head. "No," she said. "He is, but that's not all of it." She rearranged a few objects on her desk. He noticed that her fingernails were shorter than ever. Did she bite them? "Wouldn't you agree," she finally went on, "that Charlie Washinsky has... grown a lot these last months? I don't mean taller or bigger, but that there is a kind of air around him - a self assuredness you wouldn't find in Kelly, or Jo, or Harper, for that matter?" Or myself, he thought. He rose from the chair, picking up his panties and shorts and pulling them on. As he tied the shining ribbons of his ballet shoes, Kurtz called his name. He looked up. "Don't you wonder at all?" she asked. "I mean about little Charlie's sudden development?" Of course he didn't. Who was she kidding? Wasn't she the one doing the injections and prescribing the pills, drawing blood and milking penises? Didn't she know what Ms. Fontaine and Mamselle did, week after week, class after class? Again not waiting for his answer she said: "He stopped resisting, Lucian, and he started embracing. Charlie realizes who he really is, and he loves what he finds." He shrugged. "So you broke him," he said. Kurtz rushed to him, her hands on his shoulders; her face in his. "No!" she exclaimed. "Not at all! We break nobody here, ever. Look at yourself, Lucian. Look hard and be honest. Even if we wanted to: what is there to break? What other roads would you take, even if you could? What other roads are there anyway?" He pulled himself free from her touch, recalling her hysterics at Christmas Eve. He rose. "Bye," he said, turning and leaving the office. Dr. Kurtz picked up her phone. *** The growing excitement at Norton's Academy of Excellence about the approaching festivities had more than one reason. First of course there was the gathering of so many famous strangers - successful alumni, maybe a few of the fabled Boobs and all these no doubt wealthy sponsors. Well anyway, the sole fact of seeing new faces at all was reason enough for excitement, wasn't it? With a shock Lucian wondered if his mother might be amongst the guests. Then he shook his head - she wouldn't, not now. And his father would certainly first shoot himself before setting a foot in here. He chuckled at the thought, imagining the man's disgust. Then there was the Performance as a second cause for excitement. Lucian looked out of the window where bulky men built a podium on the main lawn. It was big and looked professional with a high, shell-like roof and intricate metal constructions for spotlights. Big speakers were tested; chairs and tables were loaded down from a truck. Most of the afternoon and evening's program would be filled with a demonstration of the students' accomplishments, while the visitors enjoyed cocktails and dinner. There would be music and singing, ballet of course and acrobatics. Lucian wouldn't take part in that. His only outstanding quality so far was running, really, which of course could hardly be demonstrated on a stage; let alone be appreciated. So he was selected for the catwalk. Fashion was a Barb-thing, Fashion Designer being one of the specializations open to Second Levelers. Another one was Beautician, very popular if you didn't have the talent for music or dance, acting or modeling. He remembered his conflicting feelings when Ms. Wilkins asked him to participate. She was the Fashion teacher - tall, thin and sophisticated, always looking extravagantly beautiful in creations she made herself. He liked her taste, appreciating her boldness. Her question had made him blush, looking away as a rush of mixed arousal and anxiety blocked his voice. Mixed feelings seemed to be his regular state of mind, lately - or was it the fact that they weren't mixed at all, really? Maybe it was just his scared brain still fighting what he'd already made peace with, deep down - a last effort to check his unwelcome excitement? Lucian had always loved the international catwalks. Secretly he'd looked out for their shows on his laptop and in the many glossy magazines of his mother, caught up by the magical world it represented - a world of bewildering beauty. He liked fashion - the bold and original creations, the self assured models and their shameless urge to exhibit their bodies. At school he knew he had better taste than most girls - sometimes biting his tongue not to comment or suggest improvements. His deeper feelings weren't mixed at all, he knew; he was just scared of them. Maybe Kurtz was right. Maybe all this school had to do was peel off that fear. Maybe all it took to graduate was to dissolve your self- consciousness. He turned away from the window, watching the girl next to him. She wore a long, fully skirted dress made from layers of light, gauzy material. It had a tight, square-cut top with spaghetti straps that left her delicate clavicles free, as well as a big part of her chest. The fabric was so sheer that it took strips of embroidered silver sequins to know it was there at all. The girl smiled as her hand picked up the skirts. "We need to run, Lucian," she said, fluttering the long lashes of her violet eyes. He looked down past the deep V-cut of his own dress-top. It exposed his pale chest almost to his belly button. The strips of silver ran like sparkling streams from his shoulders past his waist to the hem that touched the ground. Picking up his skirts made the fabric rustle. He followed Charlie to Fashion Class, feeling the wispy silk flow against his legs. 'She,' he'd thought when he looked at Charlie - 'she' and 'girl.' It felt true. He wondered what the boy's thoughts had been, looking at him. He shook his head. Below his worrying brain his feelings weren't mixed at all, were they? Not really. *** The catwalk was about four feet high, level with the stage where it started. It ran out onto the lawn, amidst clusters of tables and chairs where the invited sponsors, alumni and their companions sat or stood around - drinking, chatting and eating. The sun sank beneath the horizon, allowing dusk to darken the balmy June air. Hundreds of candles illuminated the tables. A fat moon floated like a ghost in the cloudless sky. Lucian watched from backstage with the other models - dressed and made up for their show later on. Feathery fingertips of excitement touched his throat. He recalled the dress rehearsal they did this morning - under the scrutinizing eyes of the workmen who weren't shy at all to show their appreciation with whistles and catcalls. He'd felt very self-conscious, watching the floor and concentrating on where his feet should go. The way the soft fabric caressed his legs as he moved sent flashes of perfumed anxiety up his chest. Ms. Wilkins had exhorted him to look up and be proud, in her high, affected voice. But it had been Charlie's smile that encouraged him, making the prying world go away for a minute. Back here on stage, standing in the wings, the first performance he saw was a string quartet of three Barbs he knew and one girl he'd never seen before. She played the lead violin with amazing skill and flair. She also looked stunning, wearing a long, flowing red dress with a generous cleavage. It showed high and very round breasts - one pressing up against the violin's curve. "She's Maxime O'Connor," someone whispered behind him. "She's got a Juilliard scholarship, you know." He watched the violinist closer. So it was true? Norton's did produce more than just sissified airheads? He watched another girl playing the cello, hugging the instrument between her long legs. She was Nico, the Asian waitress. He also recognized the Barb playing second violin. A loud applause woke him up. When it died down again, a tall blonde with a guitar walked down the stage, right up to the edge, where she strummed her instrument. She wore a checkered shirt, tied below her breasts, leaving her tanned belly bare. Her pale-blue skinny jeans hugged very long legs until they disappeared in heeled cowboy boots. Her voice was clear as a bell when she started a bluesy song. Shivers ran down Lucian's bare back. He'd never been a big fan of country songs or even blues, but the girl's melancholy voice touched nerves that went straight to his tear glands. After her applause the girl explained that she'd written the song especially for Norton's, in memory of the years she'd spent here and as a thanks for the wonderful opportunity the school had offered her. Then she started a second song. "She's Bobbi Caroll," the same voice whispered into his ear. He'd heard the name - something about a new voice in Nashville. But he'd never really given attention. After the singer Ms. Parker took the microphone, standing straight in her severely corseted outfit - a dark blot against the evening sky. Lucian recalled the Christmas speech, wondering if Drew again would be able to predict every word Parker was going to say. The memory made him wonder where the girl might be. He hadn't seen her for months, neither at running practice nor at these last days of preparations. Bored by Parker's P.R. speech, his eyes wandered to the twinkling clusters of light on the lawn. Every damask-clad table was a pool of white, shining with wavering candlelight against rapidly darkening surroundings. Each table held a circle of about ten guests, men and women alternately. Half of the men had balding heads and gray hair, but most of the women were young, some might even be girls. It was impossible from where he stood to discern the individual faces. The men all wore tuxedos, the women gowns in black, white, gold, silver and a range of pastel colors. Many shoulders were bare, and most of the dresses' tops were deeply cut. The whole audience looked up to the stage where the headmistress droned on. Lucian knew his show would start as soon as Parker was done. A hand pulled at his skirt. He nodded at Charlie. The two of them would be walking side by side down the catwalk. He marveled how her simple smile could scare his demons away so easily. Straight through the polite applause their music started - loud and pulsing. He took his place beside Charlie and behind two Barbs in very tight outfits, balancing on impossible heels. White spotlights streamed down on them as they started sashaying out into the night, one ballet-shoed foot in front of the other - gliding the Norton's glide. The applause they walked into seemed to part like a modern day Red Sea. The lights were warm and so was the summer air. Looking aggressively, frowning almost angrily like real models do, Lucian pouted his lips, making his blond bangs dance over his eyes. It was what Ms. Wilkins wanted. But when he saw sweet Charlie try it, he had to smile. The whole thing felt blessedly like a fairytale - sweet and pink and utterly unreal. Remembering the photo shoot and other embarrassing moments, Lucian let his gaze float at mid height, avoiding faces. Most of them hid in darkness anyway, covered by the blazing floodlights. But when he reached the end of the catwalk he had to look down not to stumble while turning back. That was when he saw her. It was just a glimpse, maybe lasting a second, but he knew it was Drew. She looked different, not a girl now, a woman. Her hair was cut and no longer blond. She wore a very bare bluish dress, almost nothing, really, and there was something different about her body. Another thing he saw in the short flash was that she sat in the lap of a man - an old, fat man who had his arm around her. And right before Lucian turned away, he saw her head go to the man's, nudging her face into his jowl. He almost stumbled on his way back to the stage, where they had to rush to change dresses. When he came back to the edge of the catwalk, wearing a salmon little number - like a mini skirted tennis dress over bare legs and white socks in pink unlaced Dr. Martin's boots - he saw Drew was gone, and so was the fat man. Their chairs were empty. The show lasted two more outfits. One was a gold bikini top and short shorts, worn with gold trainers, the other a cognac colored silk cocktail dress, short skirt and heeled pumps to go with the entourage of a bride in abundant white satin and lace. When they received the final applause, standing as a group around Ms. Wilkins, facing the crowd, Lucian saw Drew again. She didn't sit at the table, but was standing at the edge of the lawn, rather close to one of the lanterns. She was with another girl, a Barb he knew; the fat man wasn't with them. Both women were checking each other's hair, make up and slinky outfits. As Drew turned towards the light, Lucian knew what had made her look different. She had breasts. As he was pushed and pulled and embraced by the crowd of excited Barbs around him, he could only see glimpses, but there seemed to be telltale shadows in her wide cleavage - and the dress really didn't allow for stuffing. Then he saw her push aside the dress's top, shaking her upper body to show the other girl, and they both collapsed in laughter. The breasts weren't much, but they sure were there. Was this why they were called Boobs? Had Drew graduated? To what, and where did she go? He knew she had no real specialization - she didn't sing or dance or even do make up beyond the general program. She was a great runner, but never showed much ambition. And besides - as what gender could she ever officially compete? The high-flying feelings that had engulfed him in the collective exhilaration after the show ebbed away. Things hadn't been right between him and Drew, but why didn't she tell him she was leaving? Was this what happened with Barbs when they graduated from Norton's? Maybe Drew had been sent off to be an intern - at a hospital, maybe? But she wasn't a real nurse, was she? She might be at a regular college to become one. Lucian knew he couldn't ask her - not tonight, as the lawn was a no go area for Bobs. They were supposed to return to the building after their shows, grab a bite and go back to their quarters. *** Lucian watched the melee of people on the lawn. Through one of the hallway's tall windows he heard music coming from the stage, but from where he stood he couldn't really see what was going on. Half of the guests must have left already, but some were still dancing - men and women, and also groups of girls, being watched by men. They turned and swayed their bodies in sleek gowns and tight mini dresses - or parts of those. He heard a sigh. Charlie stood next to him, shivering in the same short robe he wore. His blond hair was wet from the shower; his cheeks had a pink hue. "Isn't it fun?" he murmured, leaning in to see more. "You'd love to be there, don't you?" Lucian asked. The boy just nodded, his eyes never leaving the scene. "I'm on my way there, you know," Charlie then said. "Why don't you join me?" Lucian turned his head to the boy in amazement, catching shining eyes and blushing cheeks. "But we can't," he said. "We are Bobs." Charlie shrugged. "You're save," he said. "They won't notice. I see no teachers. I don't even see Parker anymore." He grabbed Lucian's hand and pulled him with him. Feeling giddy like kids after curfew, they slunk through the corridors, slipping out and flitting from shadow to shadow until they reached the side of the stage. The music was loud; drums and bases filled their ears and made their bellies vibrate. Lucian wrapped his arm around Charlie's body as they crawled forward. The boy felt hot; he trembled in his embrace. The lawn was a mess. Tables had been pulled to the side, some of them toppled over, cloths and candleholders, chairs and plates and glassware joining the furniture like so much debris. Men had shed their jackets and ties, some even their shirts. A few girls danced topless and barefoot. Two of them had huge breasts, swaying wildly as they moved. He recognized a few Barbs too, some hanging on to their men, others making out at the edge of the lawn. "Now they dare," he whispered to Charlie. "With Parker gone." The boy looked at him, frowning. "You really haven't a clue, do you?" he asked, sitting up against the stage. "Those are our sponsors. They pay our tuition." Sitting next to him, Lucian watched the scene. He saw the big chested violinist and a slender Barb removing a man's belt, giggling as they kissed him and then each other. The man pushed the Barbie's face down into his crotch, where her white hand held a tube of flesh. Its head sparkled with wetness - then her dark hair blocked the sight. The man suckled on the violinist's breast. "You mean this is how we repay?" Lucian asked. Charlie shook his head. "Not we," he said. "They do," nodding to the orgy. They heard a chuckle from behind. "Bob alarm," a voice said. It belonged to Nico, the Asian girl. She held on to a blond Barb; both were rather drunk. The girls each raised an open bottle of champagne, taking a swig from it. "You should both be in bed, dumplings," she went on, slurring her words. "I graduated last week," Charlie said, sounding defiant. The information sent a huge smile to Nico's face. She clapped her hands. "Now did you, honey?" she cried out, stumbling forward on her stiletto heels and pulling Charlie up into an embrace. "So you're one of us now! Beautiful Charlie is a Barb! I'm so happy for you. Come, let's tell the others." Without minding Lucian, the two tipsy girls pulled Charlie with them and out onto the lawn. A wave of twittering voices reached him when the boy was met by some of the dancing Barbies. Soon he was moving with them, his pale body reflected by the light of the moon and the lanterns - his skimpy robe gone. Lucian retreated into deeper shadows as he watched what happened. No one had told him anything about graduation. Was it just Charlie, or had more Bobs been transferred to Barb level? And if so, what did it mean? What happened? Was it even true? The group around Charlie opened up. Keeping the boy at their center, they moved him to the edge of the lawn, where a tall blond man had his cock sucked by a kneeling woman in a tattered white evening dress. Both looked up, alerted by the noise of the approaching group. "Mr. Sanders!" he heard Nico call out. "Please meet Charlie, our most beautiful sweetheart. She just graduated and she'd love to thank you for that." Lucian climbed to his feet and slunk back. Then he ran around the stage, crossing the far side of the lawn. There he flitted from bush to bush until he sat in shadows only yards from where the girls took Charlie. Lucian looked past the man's back straight into the boy's face. He felt the same impact Charlie must have on the man - his porcelain face, smiling under the shock of silver curls; his slim, fragile body, and yet an almost insolent greed beaming from his wide-open eyes. He wants this, Lucian thought. He wants it. "What's your name, honey?" the man asked. He had a deep voice and didn't let go of the girl that was sucking his cock. His body stood silhouetted against Charlie and the Barbs who were in full moonlight. "Charlie, Sir," the boy said, his voice clear as a bell. "Such a beautiful name for a beautiful creature," the man said. He murmured a few words to the sucking girl and pushed her off his cock. Charlie's eyes immediately went to the man's crotch. The Barbs giggled, nudging each other. "Like what you see, sweetheart?" the man went on. His pants hung on his shoes, moonlight outlining his strong, hairy legs. Lucian crawled a little sideways to see the cock rising straight from the man's groin, sparkling with wetness. He'd never seen one as long - or fat. "Come," the man said, inviting Charlie with his hand. "Let's see if it likes you too." The giggling Barbs pushed the naked boy forward. "Kiss it," the man said. Charlie let his violet eyes rise from the cock back up to the man's eyes and down again. His narrow, pale hand reached out, trembling - his fingertips almost touching the penis. Then the man impatiently grabbed his hair and pulled his face to his cock. The boy fell on his knees. His sweet cherry lips opened wide to take the penis in. The Barbs cheered, dancing around the couple, some waving pieces of garment or bottles of wine. Closing in they formed a half circle around the tall man and the curly-headed boy. Wet sucking sounds filled the air. Lucian watched, wondering why he didn't feel shocked. Of course the possibility had always been there. There had been Drew's 'chores.' He remembered her sucking that awful man's cock in Parker's office. Sex was a trade off at Norton's Academy of Excellence. It wasn't a school at all, was it? It was a brothel where sex paid for the education - education for what? The violinist was really talented, Juliard, he'd heard. But still she was back there on her knees sucking cock. What about the singer? What about all the famed stars and models? Couldn't they pay their way from their blossoming careers? Did they even get any of the money they made? As he watched Charlie's silver head bob up and down on the man's cock he started feeling a hatred for himself; a sense of disgust for still harboring these silly notions of a hale, sympathetic world - still hanging on to illusions. Feeling tears run down his cheeks, he crawled back into the bushes and turned to go back to the building, his room, and his bed. He almost stumbled into Drew. "Hi, Luce," she said. "Quite late for a Bob to be out. Shouldn't you be in bed?" She looked as disheveled as the Barbs he'd seen out on the lawn, her short dark hair sticky and her make up smudged. Her speech was slow and slurred. The long dress hung open, exposing her chest. The silver moonlight painted shadows under two budding breasts - small and round, but clearly there. He tried to get around her, but she stopped him. "Kiss me please, Lucian," she whispered. "I missed you." A wave of alcoholic fumes hit him. He shook his head and tore himself free. Walking back, he kept his eyes on her. Was it sadness he saw surfacing on her nondescript drunken face? Her eyes were wide; moisture sparkled. "Please," she repeated. He turned and ran. *** Next day Norton's seemed to simmer under a collective hangover. It was well past ten when Lucian ventured out to the breakfast room, where he only found Harper, Jo and Mu, the Chinese boy. Nobody served them, so he went looking in the kitchen, finding some fruit and orange juice. "Morning," Harper said as he sat down at the table. He looked as if he hadn't showered, hair a mess, face drawn and pale. "You look as if you didn't sleep much," Lucian remarked. He bit in an apple, making the juice spray. "Ah well," Harper said, clearing his throat. "You don't look really fresh yourself. What did you do? Why didn't you join us?" Lucian studied his face; then watched Jo's. He didn't look much better. Wu's full-moon face was pale under his Asian tan. "Join?" he asked. "Last night, after the show?" Harper said, picking at a piece of pineapple. "Guess you're too special now?" Special? What the fuck did he mean? "What do you mean?" he said. "We were not supposed to be there." Harper looked confused. Then he laughed. "No, not at the lawn party," he said. "We aren't welcome there, remember? I mean at our dorm." "I didn't know," Lucian muttered. "Nobody told me." "Everybody knew," Jo interfered. "We were all there except you." "And Charlie, of course," Mu added. They all murmured. "You didn't party?" Harper went on asking Lucian. "Then why do you look as shitty as we do?" "Do I?" Lucian asked, involuntarily touching his face. That was when Taylor entered, tall and blond - and greenish pale. "Hi Luce," he said. "Iron Tits wants you. Damn, you look like shit." "Haven't slept a lot," Lucian muttered, while slinking away from the hand on his shoulder. "Have you seen Charlie?" "I doubt we will anytime soon," Harper answered. They all laughed. "She told me she graduated," Lucian went on. "Did you know?" "Yes, the lucky little bastard," a voice answered from behind. It was Kelly, entering the breakfast room. He only wore his robe, but he seemed to have showered. "She takes Drew's place." 'She' he said. They all seemed to know, except for him. "Drew's a... a Boob now, she told me," he mumbled. "So that's how it works." Harper shrugged, saying nothing. "You all seem to know," Lucian said. "Why don't I?" Harper shrugged again. "Because you never know shit," he said. "You never look, just being up there somewhere..." He fluttered his hand in a vague direction. "You never ask. You sit in your posh little room, crying and ignoring reality. You just deny you are like us. You are a snob, Lucian." "I'm not..." "Oh, but you are." They all chuckled. He rose. He knew they were right. *** "This place is a whorehouse," Lucian said. He'd gone to Parker's office straight from the breakfast room, only wearing his robe and short shorts. He noted the angry treble in his voice when he uttered the line. "By all means sit down, Lucian," the headmistress said from behind her desk. She smiled, not at all upset by his rude opening line. Her white silk blouse was as immaculate as her perfectly made up face. There was no trace of the night before. Maybe she really went to bed early. He sat down, not noticing how his right hand automatically straightened the robe's hem over his crossed thighs. "A whorehouse," Parker repeated, emphasizing the word by stretching the syllables. "You mean like a bor-dello?" Again she stretched the word; she must be mocking him. "You know what I mean," he muttered. Both Parker's hands rose in a questioning gesture. "No," she said. "I don't know, and why would I?" Lucian sat stewing; he was too agitated to answer. "Sorry, I really try to understand what you mean," Parker went on. "But I have a hard time imagining me sitting here as a - how do they call it - a Madame collecting - what? Fifty for a blowjob; a hundred for a fuck?" She pouted her painted lips in distaste as she pronounced the vulgar words. Lucian looked away; he felt embarrassed by her obvious patronizing. "Your students had sex with their sponsors," he said, turning back to watch her. "I bet it was their payback for last year's contributions - or maybe next year's. So that makes them... well... prostitutes. And as you were the one to organize it all, this school is just a fucking whorehouse!" Once more his voice trembled with anger. It again didn't really shock the headmistress. Her smile had gone, though. "I should be mad at you, Lucian," she finally said. "I should be hurt by what you say - offended and insulted I guess." By now Lucian's head floated in a hot mixture of anger and embarrassment, tightening his view until it only focused on the woman's face. Her quiet equanimity fed his rage as he thought of the gross exploitation on the lawn. He again saw Drew's lips kissing the jowls of the fat man as she sat in his lap, laughing with him as his beefy hands pawed her. He also saw the red dressed violinist again, sucking on a man's cock. And most of all he saw sweet Charlie's curls bob up and down while blowing the arrogant man with the hairy legs. "But how can I be mad at you, sweet lovely Lucian?" Parker asked, commenting on her own words. "You are so... innocent. You really don't have a clue, do you? Couldn't it just have been a party? Even you must have been to parties, honey, where people drink and dance, and where they do... things to each other as consensual adults. You know: dancing close, starting to like each other, wanting to have a good time?" Lucian shook his head slowly. The woman was trying to make a fool out of him - a clueless hick who didn't know about the real world. He'd been to parties - at his parents' house, and even a few times at classmates' places. There had been flirting and grabbing, kissing and dirty things going on in niches and closed rooms, and in cars on parking lots. He knew parties - and this hadn't been one. He also knew Parker would deny it all, making it into an ordinary though pretty wild happening. Adults venting, alcohol flowing, you know. Shit happens. "By the way," Parker said, sitting straighter. "How would you know anything of what happened on the lawn? Exactly because we want to protect you, you and your classmates were forbidden to be there after the show ended, remember? How could you have been there?" He looked at her quietly. He knew the item was bullshit - a distraction. His forbidden presence was nothing compared to what he saw last night. "Charlie took me there," he said, after hesitating for a bit. "I understand he graduated last week, so he's a Barb now." Parker didn't answer. "He told me," Lucian went on. "I didn't know." Parker once more held his gaze, saying nothing. Awkwardness grew into irritation. "Everybody knew," he added after what felt like minutes. "And they all know what it means." Finally Parker nodded. "They all know and you don't," she said, nodding some more. "And why is that, you think?" He recalled Harper's words, only moments ago. "I have to know what this graduation is all about," he said, ignoring her rigged question. "If I'm expected to follow that same route I have a right to know." "A... right," Parker murmured. Then she looked hard at him. "As I said before, these first months you deserved a bit of slack, honey. They just... dumped you here, I guess, unprepared and confused. It must have overwhelmed you. But a right?" The woman paused, just staring at him, her big eyes framed by her glasses. "Who ever told you that you have rights?" she went on asking. "What rights?" The words sent a gush of cold air his way. He saw Parker rise and walk to him. When she stood close, her fingertips lifted his chin, forcing him to look up. "We have been patient with you, Lucian Gaines," she said. "Maybe too patient." Her face floated in a halo of backlight, so he could hardly see her eyes. "You are beautiful and promising, talented too," she went on. "But you don't seem to appreciate that at all. We watched you struggle, noticing how you only saw atrocities in whatever this perverted school was forcing on you. Even when you gave in, your heart was elsewhere. You needed it to be all make belief, didn't you? Your real self lived a separate life in your own little save world, hanging on to it while it dwindled and dwindled." Her eyes became clearer as she moved in even closer - they showed pity. Then her smile disappeared. "Lucian Gaines," she said. "You live an illusion. You think you have options, but you don't. We can't allow you to go on living in denial and delusion. Please understand: we are your only option." Her breath felt hot on his upturned face. There was a hint of mint. He tried to avoid her eyes, but her fingertips kept turning him towards her. The edges of her long fingernails made dents in his skin. "You think there is an outside world where you could exist - where you even might belong," she went on. She shook her head. "Forget it, honey. Even if it's there, it will kill you. It has been killing you as long as you live." She took a step backwards, letting go of his chin. She smiled again, softening her expression. "Look at yourself, Lucian," she said, spreading her hands as if to present him to himself. "Look and tell me what chances you have beyond the walls of this academy. Then tell me who you think you are fooling." Taking another step back she made her head lean to the left as she appraised him. "My God, boy," she almost whispered. "It's all there and you just don't want to accept it. You're unique, don't you know? Goddammit, try to see that, Lucian; try not to throw that away. Every student here, and even the teachers envy you for what you have. Stop destroying yourself. Let go and become that unique creature. Be the Lucian you can be; the one you want to be. Stop fighting!" He said nothing. He just sat and shivered. Parker took a deep breath that made her chest rise and fall in her severely ironed blouse. Then she shook her head again, as if to free it from sad and irritating thoughts. "Well, anyway," she went on, gripping her left elbow with her right hand and rubbing it. "If you don't cooperate, we will decide for you. As of this afternoon you won't live your isolated life anymore. You'll pack your things and move into the First Level's dorm." The unexpected turn of events made him jump from his chair. It also rendered him speechless. He realized how important his small single room had become. It was like a sanctuary - the only place save enough to hide and breathe out his daily-accumulated shame and frustrations. The only place, he now felt, where he needn't wear his mask or project a person he wasn't. Parker's decision felt like getting the solid floor pulled out from under his feet - leaving him floating in thin air. "But," he was finally able to say. "But you can't. I paid for my single room!" There was another long silence. Parker seemed in no hurry to end it. Then she turned to her desk and picked up a letter. He saw it had the logo of his mother's law firm on it. "I guess she didn't even bother to tell you," she said. "But I'm afraid there will be no more money to pay for anything, sweetie. I have no idea which deal she struck with your father, but it certainly doesn't include your tuition. Please, sit down." An insistent buzz invaded his head as he sagged down again on the chair opposite the desk. The world around him retreated. Parker, now behind her desk again, seemed to be far off. He saw how she put the letter in front of her. The fresh red polish on her fingernails caught the light as she moved them to square a pen and a blotter with the letter. Then she looked up, every trace of softness gone. "As you know I promised your mother and her lawyers that the Academy will sue her and your father for breaking their contract about your tuition," she said. "Our solicitor thinks we have a good chance, but these things take time - a lot of time. Until then you'll have to pay your way." She allowed a tired little smile to touch her lips. "That is," she went on, "if you decide to stay, of course. Which you will, because you don't have a choice, really." Everything inside him raged against her smug conclusion. Even more so because he knew she was right. He plucked at the hem of his robe, just to have something beside the woman to concentrate on. He felt awful about staying at Norton's, but it would be even more horrible to leave and beg for his father's support. And he'd have to beg, for without his support, how could he survive at all out there? Then again: how could he survive what his father planned for him? "What work do I have to do?" he asked. Parker smiled widely now. One hand went to the open collar of her shirt. "Who do you think ironed this blouse, honey?" she asked. "Who washes your clothes and cleans your shower? Who puts food on your table and makes your bed? Who..." "But I never..," he interrupted her. The smile made room for a frown. "I know, Lucian," she said. "We all know. You are a spoilt kid; you never lifted a finger." He shrugged, helpless. "But don't worry," she went on. "We'll be patient a little while more; you'll learn. For now just move into the dorm; then go to Mrs. Winckle. You know her; she's our chef. Maybe you'll be able to peel a potato without cutting a finger by the end of the week." Lucian hated her sarcasm. He tried to force his mind into finding ways out of her plans, but the only thing he felt was an overwhelming need to flee her presence. He rose to his wobbling legs, turning to leave. "Oh, Lucian, I forgot," she said behind his back. He turned, seeing her hold up a lavender colored envelope. "I guess she needed to talk to you after all," she said, giving him the letter. She guessed, she said. But he saw she'd already opened the envelope. He grabbed it and fled to his room. *** "I'm SO sorry!!!" was all the letter said, in big bold loopy writing. The entire rest had been crossed out, tried again and crossed out all over. At places the ink had blotted into purple smudges. Were they tears? Spilt wine? The smudges had been filled in with new, hardly readable words that also had been crossed out again. The unreadable heading was a mixture of huge caps and curly letters, adorned with hearts and exclamation marks. Maybe it said his name amidst words like "dear" or "sweet," but it was just a scramble of loops and ink blots. The scratching had sometimes gone straight through the paper. As he threw the envelope and the letter on his bed, a photograph fell out. Picking it up, he turned it around and saw it was a glamour picture of his mother. Her hair was done up and her eyes looked smoky. Her lips shone with dark red lip-gloss; two pale breasts almost spilled out of her evening dress. Letting it flutter down, he shirked up until his head rested against the bed's backboard. He'd heard that finally hitting rock bottom opens great opportunity - the only way left would be up, wouldn't it? But until now he'd supposed that was irony. As he lay staring at the ceiling, he knew it was true. And the comfort was instant. All anxiety left his body. There was no need anymore to find new holes and corners in the claustrophobic maze his life had become. No exhausting urge to run left and right like a trapped rat, bumping its snout against looming walls. There was just the here and now - a narrow ledge surrounded by nothing. His body started shaking, sweat almost bubbled from the pores in his skin. But it felt good; it felt as if long gathered poison was pouring out. He was floating, it seemed; he felt like taking a purifying steam bath. That was when he started sobbing - more salt water leaving his body. He must be soaking the sheets and the mattress. Knuckles rapped on his door. They might have been doing that for a while before penetrating his cloud of misery. He tried to answer, but his throat was stuffed with sandpaper. The door opened, letting light stream past a silhouette. He knew who it was - the straight hair, the short robe covering the tall, gangly body. "Are you all right?" Harper asked. "Better than ever," he answered, adding a chuckle to his raw voice. The boy walked over, kneeling on the yielding mattress. He exuded a freshness he'd taken into the room with him, and the sweet smell of standard lotion. His cool hand covered Lucian's brow. "You have a fever," he said. The cool palm felt welcome. Lucian smiled, feeling his muscles relax even more as the cool touch started to spread through his body. He sighed, reaching up to cover the hand with his. "No," he said. "Not a fever. Just demons fleeing my body." He stopped the hand from leaving his brow. Then he pulled it down his face, his cheeks and throat until it rested on his sweat-slick chest. He felt the booming of his heart. Looking up into the boy's puzzled eyes he smiled again. "Kiss me please, Harper," he said, pushing his mouth up. "I'm down and utterly lonely." Soft flesh slid over his wet, slippery mouth. He opened up and caught Harper's lower lip, closing his teeth around it. Sucking, he felt how the hand travelled down his ribcage and abdomen until it rested on the moist silk of his shorts. He must feel searing to the touch, although there wasn't even the beginning of an erection. Pushing up he caused the hand to close around his penis - and the soft pouch below it. The kiss grew more intense. Their tongues danced, bathing in saliva. Combined moans sent vibrations down their throats. Harper straddled his thighs, bending forward to increase the intensity of the kiss. His hand, still guided by Lucian's, kneaded the pulsing crotch through the soaked fabric. Lucian's free hand grabbed Harper's thick black hair, and he started pushing the boy's face down to his chest and belly. "Suck me please," he gasped. The guided hand pulled down his shorts and tore away the completely drenched thong. Cool air made him shiver. Then something hot and wet ran from his ball sac up to his yielding penis until it dwelt on the exposed head. Soft hair tickled his skin, causing more shivers. He arched his spine to press himself into the tongue. "Oh God," someone said with his voice. Then the hot mouth closed over his cock and balls, sucking them in completely. His frame turned rigid; his hands clawed Harper's skull. He had no idea what he said or mumbled or gasped - most words must be scrambled anyway. Spreading his thighs he lifted his hips to push his groin into the sucking heat. Something touched his anus, a narrow, slippery object that entered him and started to slide in deeper - a finger, two fingers? A bolt of electricity sent him into a spasm as the fingers reached a spot deep inside him - touching, rubbing, making him cry out and sending shivers all over his body. The tongue swirled around his penis; the mouth sucked even harder, and soon his whole world became a roller coaster. He rocked forward and backwards, fucking the mouth and riding the fingers. For Lucian climax had long since stopped being the sudden, short outburst of his past. Even when he hastily masturbated in the privacy of this little room, his orgasms had grown into protracted, dreamlike, undulating sensations having no real start or ending - sometimes lasting for minutes. What he felt now was that, multiplied by infinity. Arching like a bow, he went into a state of paralysis. Energy seemed to pour out of him, and it felt as if the power of a sun tried to press itself through the eye of a needle. His very essence was seeping away. There would be nothing left. But he didn't care. Pouring his entire soul into the tight, sucking funnel of his own personal vampire, he knew he would come out of this completely altered. He would never be the same again. And he didn't care. On and on the orgasm went, lasting until he didn't even feel his body anymore. Drifting, floating, he felt like sprouting wings and flying high, ever higher until the air got thin and a growing heat singed his skin. Suddenly he did care. Gasping silly words produced by a stupefied brain, he knew he had to prolong this state into eternity, drifting on into oblivion. He had to cling onto this heavenly floating to pass through this invisible gate in a sky that had no limits. But of course his wings went up in flames, turning black and sending him down to earth in a sickening spiral - crushing him into a limp sac of bones, smeared out on the concrete of reality. The darkness that closed in on him pounded and pulsed, alive with the sounds of rushing blood and gasping throats. He felt like travelling on the back of a dark, steaming river into a black grotto. He lay prone and exposed, chilly lips kissing his burning skin. A black river it was; a boat - an archetypical ferry to... what? "Luce?" A distant voice was muffled by the buzz in his skull, the pulse in his ears and the murmuring of the river that carried him. Then he heard it again. "Luce? Are you all right?" Slowly the darkness cleared, the rocking stopped. "Aah, God, Harper," he said, his voice thick, his breathing short. The boy sat on his knees next to him, looking down. A smile broke through his concern, lighting up his face in its frame of black hair. His hands still caressed the sweat-drenched body. "I thought you died," he said. "Maybe I did," Lucian answered. There was silence, filled with their fast breathing and the small sounds of a distant world. The fingers on his skin spread a new warmth as they travelled in circles. "Is this your mother?" Harper asked. "You look so much like her." He held the photograph. Lucian took it from him and crumbled it in his fist, throwing it away. "You don't like her," Harper said. "But she is beautiful; like you." "She is a monster. She... abandoned me," Lucian said, hesitating at the word. "She brought me here against my will, let them do to me whatever they wanted. Then she dumped me and left the country." Harper leaned down and kissed a nipple. It was still slippery with sweat. "I'm sorry," he whispered, breathing on the skin. "But I'm glad she brought you". "Don't be sorry," Lucian said. "I don't care anymore." He shrugged and sat up. "I came to help you move," Harper said. "We are all excited to have you live with us." *** What is freedom? And what is a prison? More important question: can there be freedom in prison? Things changed for Lucian Gaines. The most obvious change was moving from a single room into a six-bed dormitory - leaving save isolation for the constant presence of others. And then of course there was work now, to earn his stay. They were big changes, but not necessarily the main ones. For Lucian the main difference - and the main surprise - was that he liked the changes. He'd feared that the constant companionship, the judging eyes, the snoring and the sounds at night, the collective showering and all these other facts of shared living would get on his nerves. They didn't - on the contrary. He loved being part of a group - this group at least. Being asked for his insights thrilled him - being noted and complimented. He thrived on the constant stream of gossip, the sharing of opinions and the unselfish willingness to help. He knew he'd lost his battle, but by now he wondered if it had been worth the fighting. What had there been to fight for anyway: a return to a life outside? What life? Bathing in his new world of warmth and empathy he looked back on his months of struggling - his compulsive focusing on everything black and threatening. His hanging on to beliefs and prejudices that in truth had never been his, had they? They were his father's: the arrogant machismo, the homophobic insecurity. He'd won more by losing. Wasn't that ironic? He swapped anguish for fun and relaxation. There was diversion, there was guffawing and ribbing and laughter. It felt liberating to take part in the light-hearted mocking of their leaders and the stuck-up Barbs - impersonating them, and parroting their idiosyncrasies. Even following the rigid discipline lost its edge by suffering it together. All his life Lucian had been a loner. He'd lived the bleak existence of a child whose mindset had been petrified at moments when it should have grown and evolved. There never had been friends to show him different, no parents to stimulate him - no grindstone of reality to hone his talents on. But now he had them in spades. Now there was rivalry and comparison, talents to compete with and to learn from. There was the proud feeling that his agenda was considered as important as others'. His view counted. And he learned to see opinions of others as deviant possibilities he had to respect and accept as feasible alternatives. Lucian discovered the joy of being part. There was fun in day-to-day things, like slippery wrestling under gushing showers; like doing each other's hair and make up; like washing each other's backs, hunting stubbles or painting each other's nails. Duties turned into fun when done together. What he'd feared to be a constant invasion of his privacy had become a discovery of friendship. Most of all: it left him no time to mope. The other Bobs were fearless. Many of them had a rotten past, filled with abandonment, abuse and foster homes; for them the academy had been a godsend. There'd been no struggle, as there had been nothing for them to hang on to. They accepted the brainwash and the medications. They adored Coach and her clean, simple physical training. They danced and exercised, and also went along with the feminine charades, just considering them great fun. They dressed and primped, painting their eyes and their lips. They just loved being part of something at last - anything. On his second day in the dorm Lucian discovered that this love was quite a real and palpable thing. When he returned from his evening run, walking into the collective showers, he saw Kelly on his knees, sucking Mu's cock under the steady rain of a showerhead, while his free hand pulled at Jo's dark penis. They greeted him enthusiastically, Kelly letting the short Asian cock flop out of his mouth. Still in his running gear, Lucian retreated in a hurry, closing the door. The shock of what he saw made his heart drum against his ribcage. "Something wrong?" Taylor asked, sitting on his bunk, his long legs dangling. He was plucking his eyebrow in a small mirror. "Eh, well, no, I guess ...," Lucian muttered, walking on and sitting down at their collective table. Taylor chuckled. "Must be Mu and Jo and Kelly, the fucking rabbits," he said. "Did they scare you? They are pigs for sure. At it all day, and night I'd say." Lucian looked away. So here he was, almost a year into Norton's and things obviously could still surprise him. But what struck him most was his own surprised reaction. Drew raped him almost in public. At Halloween the masked Barbs hardly covered their tracks after fucking him. On the lawn, only a few days ago, the Barbs and Boobs had held a public orgy. So why should he be surprised by three boys getting each other off in the privacy of a shower? They certainly hadn't been surprised themselves. He recalled Kelly's wide grin, right next to Mu's stubby, flopping cock. He turned his head as he heard Taylor slide off the creaking bed. The boy was easily the tallest of them all; blonde and skinny. His short robe moved up as he slid down, exposing his smooth, toned thighs and crotch. Taylor walked over to him, using the Norton Slide. The small mirror was still in his hands, clanging against a bunch of bracelets. As he sat down, he sniffed. "You smell," he said, causing a wave of self-consciousness to hit Lucian. "Sorry," he said, "I just came back from..." But Taylor laid a hand on his forearm and smiled. "I like it," he assured him. "Fresh sweat, mmm, excites me." Lucian felt a blush creep up. The dry hand radiated heat. "You excite me," Taylor went on. "You know that, don't you?" Lucian heard the next-door showers stop. It added to a silence that became awkward. He tried to tear himself free from the blonde boy's large gray eyes. They were steady, and beautifully made up - framed by eyeliner and bluish silver eye shadow under perfectly shaped eyebrows. Most Bobs didn't usually make up their faces outside of Beauty class. Charlie did, and so did Taylor, obviously. Lucian wondered when he would graduate. But the thought quickly drowned in an avalanche of mixed feelings when the beautiful face moved in, blocking his view. "Maybe we should get a shower when the brats are done," the glossy mouth said as one long lash winked. "But your make up...," Lucian objected, feeling silly. Taylor chuckled, reaching for Lucian's cheek with manicured fingertips. "Great," he said, close enough to make his breath touch Lucian's face. "Ruin it, so I can fix it again later." His lips tasted sweet as they closed over Lucian's. Thoughts flew in every direction, like a scared flock of birds, adding the rush of their wings to the fluttering in his stomach. He yielded to the probing tongue, and the sensations he'd felt with Harper returned with a vengeance. A chair fell; a hand slipped inside his soaked running top as he was pulled forward and into the blond boy's body. His world shrank until only the few square feet were left that he and Taylor occupied. "Ah! Not fair!" Muffled voices penetrated the invisible wall around them, but he didn't care. His tongue took over the initiative, and so did his hands, roaming the skinny body he held - so smooth, so slick. Other hands shook him; new bodies surrounded the two of them, closing in. Mops of wet hair brushed his neck, carrying scented waves of soap and shampoo. A hand closed around his penis and balls, kneading his ass cheeks through the thin running tights. There were breaths and groans - scattered words. He tried to pull free. To be honest, he only pretended. The kiss was a lock - an omnipresent velvet bond tying him down and blocking all thoughts. He wouldn't have tried to escape even if he could. The boys from the showers were naked, and so would he be - any moment now. Unlocking the kiss he ended up falling into Taylor's gaze - helplessly. Their lips separated and they gasped, while busy hands pulled down tights and tore at robes. Lucian pulled the sticky running top over his head. He stumbled as someone tried to free his foot from his tights, while another moved him to where mattresses had been piled into a corner. Falling down on them he looked up into a circle of faces. "Welcome, Lucy," one of them said - he thought it was Kelly. He knew the nickname should trigger resent, but his senses must be too overwhelmed by what happened. Most boys were naked, their still moist bodies sparkling light. Letting his eyes travel from face to face he noticed how intense their gaze was. They didn't smile or frown; they just seemed to... drink him in. Then Taylor sank to his knees, right between Lucian's spread legs. His hands started caressing the calves, and his lips kissed an inner thigh. The thick blond hair tickled his skin, sending a tremor up to his groin and spine. Absorbed by Taylor's tender ministrations Lucian didn't see the other boys closing in, until he felt their hands and mouths all over him - teeth around a nipple, a tongue sounding his belly button, lips sucking an earlobe, and fingers travelling everywhere. He closed his eyes and imagined a hot, perfumed cloud descending on him - a warm breeze washing his skin, a million butterfly wings fluttering by. Maybe his climax started then, or maybe it had already begun. Or maybe it never started and just was there, with the wet sucking mouths and the prodding fingers - bringing him to the edge. But there was no edge. The caressing cloud kept intensifying; the hands lifted him up to ever- new heights. Far away, in a distant, alien world floated a spark of fear, and the thought that he might be drugged. It only lasted for the blink of an eye; it wasn't even a sizzling drop of water in the bonfire of his sensuous overdose. The orgasm - by lack of a better word - was everywhere. It was even in the insides of his ear shells and the creases between his toes. He might not move a limb, but his body seemed to undulate. His penis might be sucked or not, his nipples chewed, his asshole fingered or not - it didn't matter as there was no focus at all for the omnipresent ocean of feelings that cradled him in a thousand arms. His wrists might be caught over his head, but were they? Hands spread his legs as wide as his muscles allowed, or did they? He had no idea - all he knew was that he was wide open, opener than ever. And the next thing he knew was that the openness was filled - flesh was spread, a ring was stretched and something slick but unyielding invaded him - impaling him; enslaving him. His universe started to turn around it. It became his axis - an iron fist plowing the soft marshmallow his body had become; the fluffy candy floss he had become. It was relentless, but so very welcome; cruel and yet so sweet. What first had seemed like the pinnacle of climax proved to be just a first step leading to a second and a third, taking him from a mole heap to a mountain, and from that mountain to Everest. From there his feet left earth. He soared into a sapphire sky and a diamond sun, lifted on the wings of angels fluttering around him. It was like he'd felt with Harper - to the tenth power. Lucian Gaines flew into the brilliance of day; then he glided through tropical afternoon before finally drifting into balmy night. Maybe there were stars, but by then his exhausted eyes were closed in merciful oblivion.