At eight that evening the slaves I had bought the week before were delivered, Bram, Martijn, Arden and Tumba. Arden, the oldest of the four, was just 12. Bram and Tumba were 11. Martijn the youngest of the group was only ten years old.
I had purchased the four former Boy scouts at a Children's Market in Germany and entrusted the delivery to 'Crofts,' who specialized in the storage and transport of child slaves. While they were being stored and transported they were of course kept lying naked, bound and blindfolded in cages.
I had decided to tease them by letting them think that I, their former scout leader would treat them well. I had therefore ordered that they should be thoroughly washed and given clothes just before they were delivered.
Now the four stand before me, clothed in cheap shorts, t-shirts and sneakers.
It was amusing to let them think for a short while that, because I knew them from before, I would not treat them like toys or pleasure slaves. I decided not to dash their hopes, that they had escaped a life of pain and humiliation until the morning.
"So boys, here you are," I said in a friendly tone. "I'm truly sorry, for what was done to you up to now but I couldn't do anything about it. In a while I will tell you, what you have to expect while you are here. But first you must have something to eat and drink. Would you like that? I thought so. You can go with Miss de Bruijn (I pointed to Astrid, my housekeeper) to the kitchen ('for your last real sandwich and glass of lemonade,' I said to myself), and after that, I think, it will be best for you to go to sleep. Certainly it's a little early but you must be very tired. We will take it from there."
I paused a moment in thought.
"Oh yes and take off your shoes. I don't want to have any marks on the carpets."
Obediently the boys went to their knees and opened the loops of their 5-Euro-Sneakers [$7/£4½], which I had found in the rearmost corner of the rummage table. Because they haven't got any socks, the four of them now stood barefoot before me. I have a weakness for the feet of little boy's feet. I am especially excited by the small and narrow feet of boys of Martijn's age.
"Don't we get any socks or slippers or something like that, Thomas?" asked Bram relaxed.
"We will see, Bram but for now go with Astrid. We will arrange the rest later."
I gave him a playful slap on his blond curly head and saw a bright smile on his beautiful boy's face. Did he feel safe?
I remained in the living room while the boys, exhausted and tired, but nevertheless rather disturbed by the events of the past few weeks, went with Astrid. Alone with a cigarette I thought how well the developments of the last 10 years had suited me. I had liked little boys since I was myself a child and had dreamt of stripping beautiful boys naked, to dominate and to torment them. I had however never thought that these fantasies could come true.
In recent years though there has been a revolution in the way people thought that has spread with unimaginable speed. This eventually led to the passing of an act to distinguish between two species: 'Humans,' real people like me, and 'Humanoids,' like the four little boys, just now sitting in my kitchen and eating sandwiches. Among the causes of this development were the growing fear of the population of juvenile delinquency and research that showed that criminal behaviour was almost solely caused by genetic factors.
The primary deciding factor it was found was the sex of the child. The probability that boys will develop into criminals is significantly higher than with girls. Contrary to former popular thought education and environment do not play a significant role.
As a graduate student at the faculty of education in Utrecht I contributed to the development of a test program, which made it possible to detect potential criminals at an early stage of their development. Although (and I knew this very well) there were a lot of questions about the test, we had politics on our side. One election after the other had been one by the Extreme-Right in the Netherlands and other European countries. My colleagues and I from the faculty of education saw our chance and took out a patent on our tests and had them officially recognised.
From then on all boys aged seven and older in the Netherlands, and soon after throughout the whole European Union, were obliged to take the test annually. We each got 10 Cent for each completed test and this made me rich.
Meanwhile I became advisor of 'Proud Netherland' and supported an initiative to withdraw boys that failed the tests two times running from 'humanity'. The proposal received unexpectedly strong support. And so the legal framework was created to clear the way for a European wide trade with little slave boys. Shortly additional laws were created to define as 'genetically subhuman' and consequently to enslave the offspring of gypsies and Moroccan immigrants.
I had myself founded an institute to develop medical and educational programs designed to train and medically treat little slaves to meet the requirements of the market. The speedy development of the programs was largely possible, because we could test the surgical procedures, the drugs and training programs directly on the target group. The laboratory owns a large number of test slaves between 7 and 14 years of age, on whom we could test our theories quickly and efficiently without fear of an ethics commission intervening.
The way the test slaves were treated excited me. Kept alive only so long as they served the scientific process the naked boys were locked in cages stacked one on top of the other. I slowly came to recognise that I needed some little slave boys for myself.
I also became the leader of a group of scouts. Although I sometimes hoped that one of my boys wouldn't pass the test, I have never really believed that would happen. So you can understand my excitement when I learnt that four of my charges failed the test. I found that out when I left the house on Saturday.
As always I was early, so I went to Joe's shop for a coffee.
"Have you heard?" Leo began, "Four of your scouts haven't passed the test."
"What's that?" I replied surprised. "Do you know who they are?"
"Yes, wait a minute please." He dug through his files. "Here it is, Bram, Martijn, Arden and Tumba. We got a message from Citizens Registration Office that they have been withdrawn. You know, what that means."
My heart began to beat faster. These four were among my favourites. Until then I had to keep my desires secret, but now, with the new laws that was no longer necessary.
"Well I'm not really surprised about Arden and Bram, but Tumba and Martijn."
"That's the way it is." Leo reacted indifferent. "You can never predict exactly."
"Do you have a clue what will happen to them?"
"Well, they were taken out of school and carried away. They are now ordinary articles of trade. They could be in 'Far-away-gistan' by now, what do I know
He stood up and went to a woman costumer to help with her shopping-list. I could barely control my excitement. How could I find out where to buy them? I had enough money, that shouldn't be a problem. But how do you find four lads, who could be traded like cattle in the whole European Union?
I was lucky. Tom, one of the scouts who passed the test with flying colours, went to the same school as Bram and Tumba, and cheerfully told me in detail what had happened.
"Some people from the Amalia-Brigade came to the class and said that everybody had passed the test except Bram. He had to come to the front. Then the man told us, that Bram will no longer be our classmate, he even won't be a human anymore. «Bram has a different brain than you,» the man explained. «He may look like an ordinary boy, but in truth he is a beast in a human disguise. If we keep him, he will become a criminal. But we have learnt the truth about him and therefore he will be sold as a slave.»"
"Then he had to strip," added Tom enthusiastically.
"Really, completely naked?" I asked.
"He even had to take off his pants?"
"Oh yes, that was really funny. He refused to take off his pants, so one of the girls came forward and took them down. And you know what? He had a stiffy. The girl that took down his pants, was startled, jerked back and started to giggle. The Master stood directly behind him and whispered something in his ear and he became really red in the face and shook his head. Immediately he got two ringing slaps in the face and the master said: «The new slave Bram has to say something to us all. Bram speak up so everyone can here you.»
And them Bram said «I am a bitch boy with a stiff willy. Will you please hurt it to punish me? Perhaps I will learn something.»
Then the master sent him to every child in the class. They could touch his pecker, beat or squeeze it, or kick his shins, or pull his ears, or otherwise hurt him. Bram had to thank everyone."
I had only once before and then only for a brief moment seen Bram naked, during one of our summer-camps when all the boys and adult supervisors changed together at the pool. Tumba for a joke had taken Bram's swimming trunks and thrown them to the other boys. They had wrestled together and because it all looked good humoured I had waited a little before intervening and bringing the fun to a halt. What attracted me most was that he was so lean. The combination of his slenderness together with his blonde hair, small almost delicate feet, tiny childish penis, undeveloped testicles, boyish smile and cheerful nature, let him appear simultaneously angelic and sexy.
And now this rather plain lad tells me, how this boy-beauty, naked and crying, has been driven defenceless around the classroom like a calf to the slaughter. I had to swallow hard to hide my excitement.
"And what did you do?" I asked as indifferently as possible.
"Oh, I took his nipples and slowly and severely scratched them with my fingernails. He started to howl. The master praised me and forced Bram to ask me to do it again."
"You would have enjoyed doing that," I replied smiling. "And what happened next?"
"Then we had to form a double-row along the wall of the hallway. And then Martjin came along with other children who had failed the test"
"And Martijn had had his clothes taken away, too?" I interrupted him.
"Yes, he was naked, too, crying and shivering. It was really funny. He had been beaten with a belt on his back and bottom. You still could see the welts." Tom snickered as he thought about it.
"Then the men of the Amalia-Brigade gave leather straps to some of the children standing around. Then Bram and Martijn were taken to the end of the hallway and made to lie down on their stomachs. Their hands and feet were bound and they were hauled to the entrance on their stomachs while we kicked and beat them and shouted insults. At the entrance they were grabbed by men from the brigade by their hair and dragged to a van and thrown in."
He sniggered again. "That was fun."
Then he ran to another boy to play soccer.
Now at least I knew what had happened to Bram and Martijn. Tumba and Arden went to other schools and no other members of my scout group were at their school. I now knew also that the search for the slaves of my dreams had to begin at the Amalia-Brigade.
On Monday I called the brigade as soon as I arrived at work. I was immediately put through to a very courteous and helpful lady. She gave me the boys' registration number and a web address, where by typing in the registration number I could see exactly what had happened to a slave, who had bought him, where he was at that moment and a few further details.
After that it was easy. I learnt that the boys, together with sixty other children from the Netherlands, had been bought by a German slave trader. I was relieved to see that they were not specifically listed as luxury slaves, because these are shamelessly overpriced. With Arden I had not expected anything different, he is a Negro, and they seldom bring much money. The same went for Tumba, who is a half breed. But I had expected more people than myself to be attracted by eleven-year-old Bram's blond hair and the slim waist of the ten-year-old sweet, blonde and blue eyed Martijn.
However, this only made it better for me. At the beginning of the following week I drove to a children's market in Cologne to look for them and to buy them if I could find them.
The rest of the week as well as the weekend felt like eternity. But finally it was Monday. I was impatient and much too early. So I had to wait for two hours in the rain outside a locked warehouse in the outskirts of Cologne. Finally a car arrived and two men got out. One of them took a German Shephard dog from the back of the station wagon. The other lit a cigarette and strolled in my direction.
"You are early," he murmured kindly.
"Yes, I am from the Netherlands," I answered in my best German. "I'm looking for a few slave boys and didn't want to be late."
"We have plenty of slaves," the other man said.
"True, but I'm searching for specific ones."
"Oh, that can then be rather difficult. Over a thousand children will be traded here later. They come from throughout the Union. Do you know the name of the company?"
I nodded and gave him my notepad.
"Wait here, please," he said.
He went into an office. Through the window I could see, him typing something into a computer. A few minutes later he came back holding a print-out.
"Wessels Buben (Wessels Boys)," he told me, "are selling them. I have a plan here showing where the stand is situated."
I thanked him profusely and gave him 20 Euros [$29/£17⅓] 'for the trouble'. The man, already friendly, became even friendlier.
"If you wish, you can watch the slaves being unloaded."
Certainly, I wanted to.
"Go over there to my colleague where you will get the best view," he said and winked at me.
I nodded and quickly followed the man with the German Shepard to a big parking area. Big white framed rectangles had been painted on the concrete. The trucks parked near these rectangles. Every time a truck arrived uniformed security guards approached it. Some had dogs on a leash, others carried whips or white cattle prods.
As soon as a truck stopped and the tail gate lowered revealing its cargo of naked boys lying tightly packed on its floor. Clearly enjoying their work the guards moved forward plying their whips mercilessly with indiscriminate violence. The older kids leapt as fast as they could to the ground. The younger, and some were no more than seven years old were dragged from the lorries. The children were herded together in the painted rectangles and forced to stand in rows . Their hands were bound with plastic ties behind their backs. Then a man came round shaving off the pubic hair of the older children. Finally the naked boys were forced to sit down on the cold and wet concrete.
Some children cried, but most were quiet. It seemed as if they had not grasped what was happening to them. They sat there, heads bowed, while the cold rain pelted down on their naked bodies. Only when a guard came too close with his barking dog did they twitch and begin to tremble from fear. Sometimes out of sheer boredom a guard would lash out catching a boy across his bare back with his whip and the child would howl like a wounded animal.
After half an hour the children who were closest to the warehouse were lined up in pairs. They were then driven through a series of crowd control barriers towards the hall. At its entrance two girls, around sixteen, waited for the children. The first girl cut the bonds, while the other roughly scrubbed down the naked bodies from head to toe. This job completed a third girl thrust a cattle prod into the child's bottom and the boy would yell and scuttle forward out of the washing area. Finally they were harshly but thoroughly dried, their hair combed and a sign hung around their necks.
On closer observation I realised, that the quality of the boys varied enormously. There were some drop-dead gorgeous lads there and a few less attractive. "Interesting," I thought.
Then more costumers began to arrive and I made my way to the stand of 'Wessels Buben'.
'Wessels Buben' was great. It was a paradise for the lover of young flesh. The young merchandise was divided into different sections, some boys could sing well, others could dance or were good at gymnastics. Parents stood with their children before the garden department, furnished like an elven village. In it naked children between about seven to eight years of age played. A couple pointed out one of the playing kids to a guard. The child was unceremoniously grabbed and offered for closer inspection.
I stopped and kept an eye on a small eight-year-old sweetie with very fair girl-like locks and a lovely face, crawling on hands and knees with a shovel and plastic bucket in the sandbox.
"He's cute," a thirteen-year-old girl called to her father in Dutch. The father beckoned a guard and pointed to the merchandise. The guard grabbed the boy by the ear and hoisted him up until he his feet barely touched the ground. You could see how slim the boy was; every rib in his ribcage was clearly visible. A few moments later the boy stood, arms down by his side, trembling with fear before the girl. Her father told her how to inspect the lad. The girl was very interested; she stroked his almost white hair, forced him to open his mouth, felt his teeth with her fingers and prodded his ribs with her knuckles. Then she turned her attention to his little boy's cock and he flushed red in embarrassment. It was clear that the little one didn't have a clue, why other people were so interested in his skinny body. I thought that he probably belongs to the group of unfortunates, who were simply not smart enough to pass the test. It was hard to see a future gangster or murderer in this frightened thing.
In the end they bought the child.. The girl's father held the thin arms of the boy behind his back and bound them. A brand new choke collar, already forbidden for dogs, was fastened round his neck. The girl held the leash in her hand. She had great fun occasionally without any warning pulling sharply on it so that it cut ever more deeply into the boy's neck causing him to cry out and to collapse on to his knees.
I moved toward a big hoarding reading; 'Boys from around the world,' next to it was another
'Unbelievable: four for the price of three!'
The boys stood on low stools with an information panel stating age, land of origin, quality classification (with letters from A to E) and the price. Bram and Martijn were, it could be anything else, A-Quality. Tumba, the half-Ethiopian half-Dutch boy was C, and Arden, the Negro, was D-Quality.
I pointed out the four boys to a salesperson and had them brought to me.
Naturally they recognised me immediately and I quickly held my finger to my lips.
"Don't say anything otherwise it will not work!" I whispered to them. "I am only here as someone who buys slaves."
They looked at me with big eyes. I could hardly wait to get them home. Once there the boys would quickly realize that I am not the great saviour they now think I am. So as not to attract attention, I examined the boys superficially. Then I bought them paying twelve hundred Euros [$1725/£1000] for them.
After I purchased the boys I had to arrange their transport home with 'Crofts'. Despite the open borders, you cannot simply transport slaves throughout the Union. The employee there took the papers and we agreed that the children should be the on next transport to the Netherlands which was in exactly one week's time. Until then they will be stored in Croft's slave hotel. This type of hotel was more like a kennel. The children were locked-up in tiny cells with very little space.
"And how shall they be stored, Sir?" the employee asked me.
"What do you mean," I asked.
"We have different packages, Sir," the young man answered. "With the Basis Package all your slaves will be confined in one cell. They have a bucket for their waste as well as a drinking trough and they will be fed once a day. You can also choose a more luxurious package: The slaves can sleep on mattresses and get something to play with. This costs 25 Euros [$35/£22] per night and per slave. We also have a so-called torture Package: The slaves are then treated with extra severity. Depending on your needs, we offer a variety of deals varying between fifteen to forty-five Euros [$20-65/£13-40] per slave and night. Every Visual- and Audio-material we produce of your new slaves is included.
"Well, the last one sounds good," said I.
"True," the young man reacted. "and it is our most popular."
We talked about the various options and decided that the boys should, upon their arrival, be paraded individually naked before a camera and made to introduce themselves in a short but humiliating form. After that, still naked, they would be locked together in a cage.
At seven every morning a guard will hose the boys down with a garden hose for ten minutes. After that they will be filmed as they empty themselves on a potty. Then for an hour they must, under supervision, run rounds and do gymnastics. Subsequently they will work in the garden. After work, Martijn, Tumba and Bram are to be tortured in turn: What sort of torture is left to the guards. The other two whites should have sex with each other, while Arden continues to work in the garden.
At noon the boys will be allowed to rest for an hour in their cages. During this time no video records will be taken.
In the evening the boys will be fed (I selected an extra-nutritious fodder, specially developed for slaves. It looked and tasted like dog food). Then they will have to do some chores before they are allowed to sleep. I also insisted that the boys should be transported naked. However, before they are delivered to me, I wanted them clothed.
Meanwhile the boys had finished eating and Astrid brought them back into the room.
"So, was the food good?"
"Okay boys, it's a little late already. Martijn, Tumba and Bram, you will go to bed now. I want you to get a good night's sleep. Arden, you stay with me. I have something to discuss with you.
I led the boys to a small room close by in the oldest part of the big house where I had placed four mattresses on the floor for that night.
"You will sleep here" (at least tonight, I added silently to myself). "I don't have any pyjamas for you, yet, or any other clothing other than what you are wearing now. Miss de Bruijn is going to wash your clothes, so you will have to sleep naked."
I noticed how the boys looked at each other.
"Oh come on," I said. "I've already seen many boys naked."
Reluctantly Tumba began to take off his shirt. It struck me once more how attractive he was, with his narrow shoulders, slightly-developed chest- and abdominal muscles. He contrasted Bram, who seemed to have nothing between his skin and the ribs, and again to Martijn with his rather childish appeal, who nevertheless undoubtedly had the most beautiful cock of the three, with its relatively long foreskin completely covering the glans..
I took their clothes from the three boys, wished them Good Night and turned off the light.
Now I had to talk to Arden.
"Arden, listen carefully to me. I will tell you a secret. Do you know why I have become a scout leader?"
Two dark eyes looked at me questioningly. "No."
"Well then I'll tell you. I'm turned on by little boys."
"Do you know what they call a person who loves little boys?"
"Um, a paedophile, right?"
"Yes, right, or a pederast to be exact. That's what I am. And I think that Bram, Tumba and Martijn are beautiful boys. That's why I have bought them.
But there is something else. I like it when they are in pain and get humiliated. You know how it feels to be humiliated, don't you?"
"Um yeah, I think so
"You have to understand one thing. I'm not in love with you. I think you're a good looking young man, but I don't love you. I want for you to act as the prefect to the three boys, as their boss that is to say. You can beat and bully them, and they have to do basically anything you order them to do, and when they do not obey, you punish them. Do you agree to that?"
Arden was silent; suddenly I had an idea how to persuade him.
"If you don't I will send you to my lab this very night where you will become a test slave."
Now I saw fear in his eyes.
"No, no, I will do it
" he said hastily.
"Okay, I'm glad you agree. Now go to bed: You will be the only slave who will get a room for himself. Tomorrow morning at 8 your new job begins. Bram, Tumba and Martijn will receive their slave names and will stay naked for the next few weeks. They can expect a lot of sport, work and punishments. Tomorrow morning you will get some clothes and a whip from me and then I want to see how you wake the other boys up. If I am satisfied with you, you may stay; otherwise you will go to the lab. Miss de Bruijn will take you to your room now; I still have some other things to do."
Completely satisfied I stayed in the living room for a while and listened to a Mozart piano-concert. It got late. Before I went to bed, I took a look into the small room where the three white boys were sleeping. Like naked puppies they lay there snuggled close together. Little Martijn had his head on Bram's chest, whose hand was on the youngest boys head as if he would caress him, whilst Tumba was head to head with Bram on the other side. Their deep quiet breathing showed that they all slept soundly. They desperately needed this rest.
As I often do I woke up quite early. I decided to watch the video material I received from Crofts. I put the first DVD into the player and made myself comfortable. What I saw exceeded my expectations.
The recording began with a long shot of Bram. The camera zoomed in to his tearstained face and quivering lips. Then you heard a quavering boy's voice.
"Hello Master, I am Bram, your new slave. I am eleven years old. I will briefly tell you about myself and my body. Once I was a human child, but then I was withdrawn from society and now I am a slave. I do not really deserve to live anymore, because I am bad, stupid and lazy. I am very happy that you have bought me, and hope that you will have a lot of fun with me.
I will now tell you something about the body you have purchased. It is 139 cm [4 ft. 7"] tall and weighs about 29 Kilograms [64 pounds]. It's very light for its height and age."
The camera now panned slowly to Bram's chest and you could actually see every single rib. Luckily he was not so thin to be ugly. I know some boy lovers who enjoy starving their slaves until they look like children from concentration camps, or from a poor African country. But I'm not like that. Bram's slenderness was that of a runner instead of a starving child. It is good that that was so because as a result he is the source of two types of enjoyment. His slender, childlike innocence and vulnerability delights the eye. While the mind is excited by the anticipation of the pain you can cause this young boy by beating him with a belt or stick on his unprotected ribs. When you beat a child, like Bram, on its back or chest, you will see that the resulting pain is much more sever and deeper than with a plumper child.
Slowly the camera panned down the flat stomach and stopped briefly at his almost flat navel. Now his pecker came into focus, a beautiful round tube with glans in the form of a small pyramid. His sack is spherical, both balls invisible to the eye, but I know they are there, I had felt them between my thumb and forefinger.
"No, no, please not that, I don't want to do that, please!" I heard his sobbing boy's voice from the speakers in my living room, followed by the sound of a belt or a whip striking a naked body, two, three times. The camera shook and for a few seconds showed pictures of a bare room. I heard the whip again and a man's voice shouted: "Get a move on turd!"
Now I saw Bram again, his blonde locks framing a pale face with red cheeks wet with tears.
"Although I still have a small childish cock, I can get a stiffy already."
He put his hands behind his head. While he stood there a blond man crouched beside him and handled the boy's sex with his right hand, until it began to slowly rise. I was so excited that I was afraid that I would be brought to an orgasm by Bram's words alone. When he said that he would now show how he shitted while sitting naked on the potty, I came, whether I wanted to or not. I turned off the TV and for the last time cleaned up my own seed.
When it was seven o'clock I went to wake-up Arden. First he had to take a shower, then get dressed and report to me. He was wearing black pants and a black shirt, which suited him well. He stood a little uneasily in front of me and it was clear that he wanted to tell me something.
"Arden, if you want to say something, ask me for permission. And remember to always address me as Master."
Arden nodded and said to me: "Master, may I speak?"
"Can I really beat and kick the other three?"
"Sure you can do. But let's start slowly, with Martijn. Come along, we will wake him."
I walked into the room where the three boys were still sleeping, and gently lifted Martijn up.
He sighed deeply, but went back to sleep in my arms.
Careful not to wake the others, I carried Martijn into the soundproofed cellar, which I had set up as a playroom, and gently laid him on a mattress.
"Wake him," I whispered to Arden.
"Can I really do anything?" he asked again.
"Certainly. And if Martijn doesn't start to cry from pain and misery soon you will have a problem."
Now Arden had the kind of smile on his face, I had hoped for. It was clear that the sight of the helpless, slender boyish bodies aroused the emotions in him, which I had hoped for.
He took the whip from his belt and hit it hard on Martijn's bare back immediately followed by a solid kick in his ass.
"Wake up, faggot! Quick! Come on!" followed by a second and third blow of the whip.
He looked at me, searching for approval. I gave him the thumbs up.
Meanwhile Martijn had crawled into a corner of the basement. He groaned in pain and his baby blue eyes were wide with terror. I whispered to Arden that he I wanted Martijn standing up with his hands behind his neck. Two more kicks and blows were necessary to achieve this. Then I sent for Bram and Tumba. Moments later the three boys stood, trembling with fear and pain, in a row in front of me while I made my little speech.
"So, you faggots, what Arden knows, but you don't yet, is that of course I haven't spent a handful of money on you just to save you. I have bought you because I already found you sexy as scouts. The only reason why you are still alive is, so that I can have a lot of fun by treating you like toys. You can only survive if you learn to ask yourself in everything you're doing, whether it satisfies me. That will make it easier for you."
"The most important for the moment is that you follow the rules I tell you.
First of all you have to obey me, Arden and everyone else who is not a slave. Should at times one order conflict with another that's just your bad luck. You will then be punished by the person whose order you haven't obeyed.
You will call me 'Master'. Every other free person and Arden you will call 'Sir' or 'Madam,' even four-year-olds who go to nursery school. You will speak to everyone in this manner.
It is strictly forbidden to speak without permission of the person you are addressing. In very rare cases, you will get permission to talk together. When you say something, I want you to speak as childishly as possible and to act in the same way. You will still learn what I mean."
"Fairly often I'll sit by you, or take you on my lap or to bed with me. Of course I'm not interested at all, whether you like it or not. But I want for you to behave in a way that suggests that you do like it. It is obvious that you should never object to it or resist me."
"Ah, yes. Now something important: You will get new names. I don't want to hear your old names again. Martijn, from now on you are Diertje, Tumba will be called Tummetje and Bram is now Skinny."
"That is everything at the moment."
"Later you will come with me to the doctor. He will make sure that you stop growing. He will also implant microchips so that I will know anytime where you are. It is set up so that I can cause you a lot of pain, because it's fun. You will get clothes for the journey to the surgery."
The boys stood, shivering from pain and cold, before me: Martijn or rather Diertje and Tummetje looked paralysed, but I saw impotent fury in Skinny's narrow eyes and clenched lips.
"Wonderful," I thought. "A little bit of resistance. I will enjoy that
I whispered something in Arden's ear. He walked away briefly and returned shortly afterwards with a pile of clothes. All three boys were given a thong. While they dressed in their new things I told them that they were actually girls' clothes and because of that they looked very good on them. And again I saw how angry Skinny was from his glowing red cheeks. But he still pulled on the panties. The sex of the boys was now covered by a small white triangle which was kept in place by a little ribbon of the same colour that went between the buttocks to the waist. After that Arden gave all three lads a white tunic. These consisted of two rectangular pieces of fabric, one for the front and one for the back, which were sewn together only at the shoulders. The two rectangles could be connected at the waist with a piece of rope, leaving the sides of their chests exposed. The tunics reached to the upper third of the thighs, the rest of their legs remained uncovered. In addition, the boys got sandals for their bare feet. The sandals were made of a sole and a few small red straps that crossed over their feet. Another strap went behind the heel to keep the sandals in place while walking. To make the transformation of the three from 21st century boys to Greek catamites complete, Diertje and Skinny each got a narrow red hair band and Tummetje got a golden one for his black curls, and each boy had small golden chain fastened around his right wrist and another one around his left ankle.
I inspected the trio.
"You look pretty. Now we can get ready for the trip to the doctor."
I took three collars, which looked as if they were made for quite small dogs, from the closet and together with Arden fastened them around the necks of the three boys. Then ropes were attached to the collars and the boys were led outside.
Another surprise awaited them at the station wagon. The three had to climb together into a narrow cage. They only fitted into the cage lying on their sides with their knees drawn up. I closed the tailgate of the car and signalled to Arden to sit beside me in the front and drove to the doctors.
TO BE CONTINUED