Tales from the Birchfield farm

Legal Progress

Blaine, the Farm’s nurse-practitioner, felt certain. Randy-James had hope.

At stake, so very much: the lucrative if temporary living arrangement over barely-teen Hank van Sant and its intention to involve the boy initially with Randy-James’ son, Hiram. Administrators and investors had little-disclosed, long-range plans for additional profit to be built upon Hank’s potential as a resident Provider of unique youthful appeal to moneyed clients of certain bent.

Of necessity, the matter was known to very few. In the short term, it impressed Trainer Randy-James as practical. His son already had caused problems and might likely run further risks. Not of course if he had a sufficient and irresistible distraction.

Months, even a year would not be too long for Blaine’s hypnotic sessions with susceptible, suggestible Hank to take root. “Tonight’s the next step, a good test,” Blaine lifted an eyebrow toward Randy-James. “When you settle the boys into their room and feel secure in slipping away, meet me in the monitor room.”

“I know. By the way, you know who called today? Ania Volsky, the woman from Child Protective Services who interviewed Hiram when I was going through those custody hearings.”

“A follow-up?”

He nodded. “Yep. I told her about his studies, his work on the crops guided by Syd and Vas, his new pursuit of photography, the way he’s fitting in, and that he’s involved in helping our new arrival settle down. She seemed impressed. Wants to speak with Hiram tomorrow. That ought to be fun to overhear, especially if tonight goes well.”

“You’ll set him up to handle that, I take it?”

“By breakfast, we’ll know whether I need to say anything to him at all,” Randy-James smiled.

***

Minutes had passed in the pitch-dark bedroom, Hiram and Hank entertained similar thoughts about playing with themselves. His right hand already in place, ready to begin, cock at full stand, Hiram heard a funny sound from Hank’s cot. Ears pricked, he heard it again.

“Hi-ram.” His whispered name intruded on their silence.

“What’s up?”

“Not-me. Something’s wrong. I-can’t-do-it. Help-me.”

Oh, shit.

Befuddlement increased as Hank’s naked body eased under Hiram’s sheet and into bed beside him. Worse though, his new roommate’s hand hovered none too cautiously over, then pushed aside his own to fondle the thirteen-year-old’s already drippy erection.

Oh shit.

Someone else’s hand on his naked cock electrified Hiram. A memory flashed back to the touch he had received so recently through his pants….

“Mine’s not working.” Hank’s natural voice switched to his automatic, “Help-me.”

Hiram’s heartbeat raced when, into his left hand, Hank’s soft genitals came in contact. Before he could hesitate, his hand reflexively kneaded, then began to stroke the hardening member as his own was being stroked.

Ever curious, Hiram seemingly had to feel Hank’s penis rise again, forming the way it had that afternoon.

Weird it might have been even yesterday. Now, after their Barn experience with Mike, it was not really unnatural. Not after the full exposure of that photo session. His dad would probably approve. Yeah, he would say, “Go for it.” Hank was driving him crazy.

Damn, his thing’s bigger now than at the Barn. He’s turned on.

“Wait,” Hank said. Then in his stilted fashion, “I-have-lotion. Lotion-is-good.”

Mind in a race with feelings, Hiram managed, “Where did you get it?”

“From Blaine. You’re supposed to put it on me like before, all over – here.” By a couple of thrusts he made sure Hiram understood. The rush of words went unnoticed. Feelings charged both.

Neither was in a position to notice the infrared LED strip Syd and Vas had installed over the head of Hiram’s bed nor the miniature camera lens up there as well. Nor could they in the blackness. Even in daylight nothing would have caused either to look at the ceiling.

Nothing was ever up there.

***

From the monitoring room, “Wow,” murmured Blaine.

Before the screens, both view and situation struck Randy-James and Blaine. They exchanged interested glances. From behind, Vas and Syd hovered to check the results of their stealthy work. Vas verged on saying something when what he wanted to happen did: Hiram kicked down the sheet and half-rose to use both hands. No audio meant that all eyes focused on the action.

“God, infrared’s great for living, moving bodies when there’s no other light.” Syd elbowed Vas, “Guess we’ve got work ahead in the Shellman.” With smiles, both turned back to the eerie haze of images moving on the screen.

None of the four knew that Hiram was telling the subject of his lavish attention that he must do the same for him – and go all the way – before the favor would be returned. But they saw previously shy Hank push Hiram back, sit on his legs, lean forward, pour on some lotion, swirl it around, and begin the jacking movement with both hands so fast that Hiram exploded directly – with a soundless, probably noisy, yell to stop.

Hank, face dripping ejaculate, laughed and did his best to hang on. Hiram’s threshing eventually gave way as his torment lessened. Next he felt, Hank was rubbing – Lotion, or…? – to his sensitive balls, his upper thighs, his stomach. Had to admit inwardly that it felt wonderful. And there was no shame to it.

“Now, me,” Hank, head thrown back, mouthed within view of the camera he did not know was there. He got off and waited for his roommate to move.

In the total dark, places were changed – with a few bumps into each other. One stubbed toe. Different: Hank on his back, parted his legs to make room for Hiram. Satiated, Hiram knelt to perform this duty for the first time in his life. He had no idea how much lotion he poured onto Hank’s penis.

“Oh, so much!” Hank gasped. “It’s-going-down.” As if scripted by Blaine, “It’ll get on your bed.” He drew his knees up and spread his legs. “Get-it, Hiram.”

Not quite conscious of what was happening, the thirteen-year-old’s wettest finger slid over the hot mound of his newest friend’s warm scrotum into the warmer crack beneath. It and others sought the flow. Hank’s bottom opening received lotion and a finger at the same time – and wanted the contact.

“Oh, so good. Push-it. Push it, Hi-ram.”

Hiram need not have waited in perplexity. Hank did the pushing. Onto….

Pliant muscles surrounding his finger and wriggling further shocked Hiram’s neural system into overdrive. His crotch came back to life.

“Hiram, jerk-me, jerk-me,” Hank pled, his lower tract in possession of Hiram’s index finger to the last knuckle and clamping on it.

Obedient without understanding, Hiram’s left hand moved on its own and started the unfamiliar act of masturbating another boy. With nothing to see yet novelty to experience, Hiram concentrated on the mechanics of moving one hand while holding straight a finger of the other.

Hank, reared into Hiram’s clutch and shoved back and forth on the stiff finger. Dual sensations conquered him the instant Hiram poked against a firm spot inside. Another blast sequence shook Hiram’s bed.

“Wow,” murmured Blaine.

“Wow for real, eh?” Randy-James asked over his shoulder.

Syd smirked, “You guys didn’t call the shots. Those two did.”

Blaine started. Vas said, “With your help, of course.” Mock hand-clapping rewarded the Farm’s nurse.

“Leave the camera on in case there’s more activity during the night or early in the morning. I’ll check it later.” Randy-James glanced at the time. “My sleep-arrangement tonight’s with Konstantin, so I’ve got to go. Who’re you with?”

Vas answered, “Sammie, so no complications there. I’ll just fuck him the way he wants it. Or whatever he begs for.”

“No role playing tonight for you or him,” Syd said. “I’ve got Lon. Who’s yours tonight? I forgot the list.”

Blaine smiled, “Ahmed, for advanced dildo love. He’s got a job coming up.”

“Uldis is with Clyff, Benjamin with Belamy, and Big Ben has Félix,” Randy-James reported, the screen of assignments on his now-open screen.

“Ben and Félix again?”

“Our CEO ordered it. There’s something special ahead for them as a duo, Mike tells me.”

“Who’s with Mike?”

“Would you believe? – Cosmo.”

“Not bad, come to think of it. And Ting?”

“With Mama. They may just talk, but she needs company.”

“Maybe he’ll find out what it’s like to fuck cushions of female flesh,” Vas tapered off as he went through the door, laughing.

***

Nurse Blaine was among several Trainers and one Provider, cheerful Ting, on kitchen duty for breakfast. In place, the usual. Steam tables had piping hot grits and scrambled eggs, crisp bacon slices, oven-heated sweet rolls. Two four-slide toasters stood ready alongside loaves of whole wheat and rye bread. Cold cereals, chopped fruit, milks from cows and almonds, yogurt.

“We’re out of-a oatmeal,” Mama greeted her first two customers, the boys Hiram and Hank. Surprised that Hiram reached out for a hug, she engulfed them both – and the three hung on.

“You’re so-a early,” she said to Hiram, not knowing what to make of the attention.

“Mama, we need to see Blaine. Can he come, please?”

“Is-a somebody sick?”

“No, but we really, you know, need to see him, you know, like in private.” Hiram’s earnest face touched her heart. Mama was concerned about the younger men’s needs.

“Tell-a you what, you get-a your breakfasts and-a go sit in that-a corner way over there and I’ll-a send him-a to you.” Apron aflutter (like her pseudo-Italian English), off she bustled.

Blaine, stomach nervous at being summoned by a thirteen-year-old, burst through the kitchen’s swinging doors as the boys were settling in place. Ting peeked through the porthole of the door that almost bopped him on the nose as it swung back. Mama’s face – rather flushed – peered through the other porthole. The idea that Hiram sought Blaine outside his own Dad’s presence was unusual. Extremely so. Other eyes sought glimpses, too.

Hank kept his eyes on his food and ate his eggs steadily. Hiram looked up – directly, without a blink, into Blaine’s eyes until the man sat. He put down his fork. Stared hard.

Proverbially, the silence was deafening.

***

Randy-James woke. Last night’s events in his son’s room, well-witnessed thanks to new equipment, had gone far better than he, Blaine, Syd or Vas had hoped. A yawn and a few stretches perked the man. His bed partner, Konstantin, budged but rolled further away, covering himself with the sheet.

Occupied only by the way he thought things were meshing as Ecks wanted and without a mote of reminiscence about Konstantin’s lust with him, Randy-James got to his feet.

We are on the way.

Shaved, showered, and clothed, he considered rousting the boys for breakfast. What he found on his living room’s other side was an open bedroom door. Cautious, he looked in to see a perfectly made bed. No occupants. A frown and a scratch of his neck later, he turned to spot a note: BLAINE’S FIRST. YOU’RE NEXT. Block caps. Scrawled were the signatures of Hiram – large – and Hank – small.

Out the door, down the stairs, across the porch, toward the Bunkhouse where most, even at eight-thirty, would be at the first meal of their day. He trooped in. Everyone he saw, saw him. Cosmo tweaked Mike, who sputtered into his coffee. Lon, Syd, and Vas pretended to be devoted to their food. Others took up their conversations, although some heads turned in Blaine’s direction, at the steam table where he was adding butter to the grits and giving them a stir – signals perhaps for Randy-James. Nowhere did he see his son or freshly de-virginized Hank.

Upon recognition, the two men beat a retreat into the kitchen. Mama’s whoop made it through the closing doors. The buzz from table to table rose. Ting’s appearance with a fresh carafe of coffee brought hushed calls to tell what was being said “in there.”

***

Randy-James listened intently to Blaine’s account of Hiram confronting him. “I couldn’t get a word in edge-wise. Your boy spoke to me as if I were a child. He berated me – and you – for thinking that Hank was ‘a dope.’ Half that room,” he pointed beyond the kitchen “heard him accusing us of a ‘stupid conspiracy.’ It seems that Hank hadn’t been as out-of-it as I thought when planting my suggestions. Hiram’s surprise at the mutual masturbation Hank initiated led him to ask why Hank wanted to do that. He told Hiram he had a dream in which I told him it was what he had to do, a dream from yesterday afternoon. Hiram put two-and-two together and, in their post-jerk-off bliss, asked what else was in that dream.”

Blaine unashamedly enjoyed the drop of Randy-James’ jaw. He vented more, “Hank didn’t say, but did squeeze his tube of lube on Hiram’s longest fingers, turned to his side, took Hiram’s wrist and managed the words, ‘They-go-in-here. It’s-good-for-me, Blaine said.’”

“We saw them, but we both thought Hiram was fingering him again of his own accord. Of course, Hank would welcome that. You’d programed him to. It was rather wonderful that Hiram came out of his shell, fingered Hank and jerked him off again before they went to sleep.”

“Yes, but we didn’t have any idea that Hank would remember, much less be able to talk about it,” Blaine said. “He should have been in deep trance. I thought he was both times. No one here I’ve ever treated to post-hypnotic suggestion has ever recalled a session unless I told them to. I certainly didn’t in Hank’s case.”

“Hang on, Blaine, I haven’t told you what happened later.”

“What?”

“Hank woke just after midnight. I know because Konstantin and I had finished our last round.” Randy-James rolled his eyes. “I looked at the clock, tucked his preciousness into the arms of Morpheus, and checked on my room’s monitor to see if anything was going on with the boys. Hank was playing with Hiram’s cock which had gotten hard. At first, I wasn’t sure where things were headed. Hank lubed Hiram, who was half-asleep, straddled him and worked his butt right onto it. Hiram woke fully to find himself fucking for the first time. That was intense. Took only about a minute. Then, boom-boom-boom!”

A smirk crossed Blaine’s face, “I know. Hiram told me. And that Hank scrambled off, sprawled flat on his stomach, and wanted more. Hiram dove in, still hard as a rock,” Blaine smiled. “Lasted quite a bit longer before his second climax hit. What hit him most and what he was so mad about was the guilt he felt, guilt that he’d been tricked into taking advantage of Hank’s predicament. What made him even madder was that he believed we are trying to turn him gay. Didn’t matter that Hank said again and again that he liked it. He wanted to make Hiram happy because Hiram was the nicest friend he’d ever had. This much I saw clearly during Hiram’s tirade: your son doesn’t like being confused. I think he’s pissed that intuition took over and he couldn’t stop himself from the fuck. More guilt from that.”

Under the glare of Mama’s watchful stare and Ting’s smiling head peeking from a safe position behind her and without noticing the expressions of others in the kitchen, Randy James wanted to know, “Where have they gone?”

“To the pool.”

***

No one else was there. Just the two boys. Hiram in his undershorts, Hank wearing Hiram’s skin-tight, form-revealing swimsuit. Randy-James, unseen, stomach knotted in anticipation of a show-down, watched in fascination the patient, reassuring way Hiram encouraged his frightened friend to trust his buoyancy, his ability to float upright and on his back.

“You can relax. I’ve got you. You won’t sink, Hank.”

“I’m afraid I’ll make a mistake and you won’t like me.”

Utterly natural voice, even though he’s scared. He’s really into my son.

“You can’t make a mistake when you’re with me. I’ve got you.” Hiram really meant it.

After several more such exchanges, an explosive splash revealed Hank embracing Hiram in a lifeline-taut hug. “Hiram, I love you. I love you.”

The merest hesitation allowed Randy-James’ son to say something psychologically so clever it opened the hidden observer’s eyes wide: “And I’ll love you even more if you let me teach you how to swim. Right now, Hiram. Okay?” – and he kissed Hank’s wet cheek.

 Minutes later, Hank could dunk his head under water and fling it back up. A few more, he could dog paddle a few feet into Hiram’s arms. Hiram backed off another foot or two as he convinced his pupil to paddle further – until Hank was making his way half the length of the pool.

“I’m tired,” came the plea Randy-James could hardly hear. What he thrilled to hear clearly as he saw Hiram welcome Hank to an embrace of his own was, “I’m so proud of you. You did great. Now we gotta shower. Get the chlorine off.”

Shadows concealed Randy-James as he moved stealthily where he could see Hiram helping Hank out of his white spandex suit, a tricky task in view of the boy’s erect inches. They giggled. Hank pointed to Hiram’s jut and snatched down his brief. Neither looked around as warm shower streamed over their mutual interest in who might come first as they pumped one another.

Randy-James backed silently away and moved out of the gym to return to the dining room for such breakfast as he might manage. Thoughts raced in his mind.

Ting was sponging a table top. “Anything left?” he was asked.

“Are they all right? Did you have a fight? Everybody’s worried.”

“If ev-ery-body will feed me, I will tell ev-ery-bod-y what happened.”

Tin, sensing relief, brightened, “Yes SIR!”

***

The clatter of shoes on oaken steps alerted Nurse Blaine of an imminent invasion of his sanctum, the Farm’s infirmary office. He sat back. Hiram, with uncertain Hank in tow, burst in. Blaine crossed his arms.

“Where’s my Dad?”

“Last I saw, he was looking for you two.”

“Well, we didn’t see him.”

“I know that. Does it mean anything that he saw you?”

“Where?”

“In the pool. In the shower.”

Hiram’s face changed color. Hank looked lost. They sat down.

“Want to know something else?”

An intake of breath and a defeated sigh preceded Hiram’s wary, “What?” Uneasy eye contact spoke of bravado crumbling.

Arms uncrossed, his severe look tucked away for next-time usage, elbows on his desk, Blaine told the boys, “Take each other’s hand and listen to me. Yes, we set you up – with good reason. Hank was seriously in danger. Grave danger. We’ve taken him, as you, Hiram, were first to realize, because of the harm done to him abroad. He’s to have a new life here with us, all of us. You, too, were taken in – to rescue you and to give you a new life. You’ve been here for months and proven to be a pain in the ass more than once – and I don’t mean sexually.”

Hiram blanched.

“Ecks almost ordered that you be removed from here. The whole photography bit with Mike’s commitment to help – and a lot of other events – saved your sorry butt and your Dad’s goddam job. You’ve been nurtured in one way or another by every person here – with care. We saw you turning into a snotty brat. Getting spanked was your wake-up call.”

Hank jerked in alarm, “You were spanked?” he asked, face distraught.

“Yes, twice, but not like you were,” Hiram found immediate sympathy and squeezed his worried friend’s palm. “Actually, it was my Dad and he made it kinda fun, you know, in a sexy way.” An honest admission beyond his friend’s ken.

Hank might have tried to say he did not know….

“Hank,” Blaine snapped a finger, “look at me. I’m fussing at Hiram the way I need to after he fussed at me during breakfast – because he didn’t understand and didn’t want to hear any explanation for why I planted important ideas in your mind.”

Nurse-practitioner Blaine nodded to recently arrived Randy-James, mute in the doorway.

Boys’ heads turned.

Neither knew what to do.

“Shall I tell them what we were up to and why?”

“I wish somebody would,” Hiram muttered, a hand to Hank’s knee. Hank looked on beseechingly.

Randy-James drew up a chair to sit close by. He began thoughtfully, “Hank, you really do love my boy, don’t you? I see it in the way you’re watching everything he does. I’ve seen it in the way you look to him for guidance. You trust him to be right about things, don’t you? And he has been, hasn’t he?”

Nonplussed not to be his Dad’s focus, Hiram wanted to speak but was silenced by a fatherly gesture. Hank blurted a sweet-toned, “Uh-huh.”

“Yes or no,” Randy-James wanted the word, not an inarticulate grunt.

“Yes.”

“You feel better for telling us that, don’t you?”

Hank smiled, “Yes.”

“Good. Now I’ll tell you something very special. Hiram’s been without any friend his age for a long time. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s been harboring a grudge against everybody here because all of us enjoy having sex.”

“That’s not fair, Dad. I just don’t understand it.”

“Son, it’s our life and our job. We are sex workers, the happiest on this world. You and Hank,” whose shoulder he touched, “are at an age and a stage of physical development when you’re discovering how spontaneous sex, like honesty creates a positive bond between two people. Right, Hank?”

The boy’s nod reassured.

“Hasn’t it been a benefit, Hiram, for you both?”

His son’s neck turned red before he could match Hank’s further nod. Blaine looked on sympathetically.

Randy-James addressed Hank, “I’ll tell you a secret. My handsome son’s been suspicious, even afraid of sex, or was until these last two nights with you. Ask him sometime about what he endured when he lived with his mother.”

Hiram started but again was shushed.

“I know you want to protest, son, but that’s not going to happen. What you must do, right now for Hank, is to tell him about your reaction in the Bunkhouse to bringing up the erections of Clyff and Sammie and of being touched through your pants by Clyff – remember? Fess up, boy.”

Hank’s head swiveled toward his declared boyfriend. He chewed his lower lip.

“Okay, okay,” Hiram gulped, “I got a hard-on.”

Blaine interrupted, “And didn’t you get one from being touched by Hank that first time in your bed?”

A chagrined, “Yes.”

“Hank,” Randy-James resumed, “let me tell you something about legalities in this country. Because of Hiram’s age being what it is, not one of us on the Farm can have sex with him, but a person his own age can. You two need companionship and, we…” – he indicated himself and Blaine – “…believe you both are ready for sex with each other. It will help your relationship for the next years ahead. Blaine, you explain how something you did gave us the go-ahead to help you, Hank, get ready for it. Blaine? We’re going to be very mature now, okay? Listen to Blaine.”

“Okay, be very adult, please. Your first day, Hank, when Félix and I took you to the pool to introduce you to some of our guys, you were really timid, weren’t you?” The answer would come, he was certain.

Hank felt free to admit it. “Yes. Everything scared me.” Syllables flowed easily.

Blaine smiled again to encourage. “But you did something entirely on your own, something you’d never done before. Tell us what that was, please.”

“I saw Hiram. He was…so…beautiful…I had to touch him.”

A mummy-straight face appeared on silent Hiram. As if not present, they were discussing him!

“Nobody told you to do that. You did it on your own. I was impressed. What else did you do? Take a deep breath and just tell us, so we know for sure.”

“I took his hand and told you I liked him.”

“And how good was that, Hiram?”

“Do I have to say?” From Blaine’s expression, Hiram got his answer and noticed a nod from his Dad. “I hardly knew what-to-do.”

The blatant imitation of Hank’s automatic manner drew a scowl from the nurse. He waited.

“I looked at you and Félix. Something in your eyes told me, like, not to make a fuss. So, I didn’t, but I felt weird about-it. Only, I remembered from Mike’s acting classes how, when you’re in a role, you, like, play it, and you don’t let on. Plus, I know improv.”

“Hank,” Randy-James said, a hand on Hiram’s shoulder, “did you understand that? Hiram’s really learned so much here. And because he’s learned it, he took your hand and became your first friend here.”

A wide-and-wet-eyed Hank looked sideways at him, nodding.

A deep breath raised Hiram’s shoulders. His heart thumped. Something was coming, he could tell.

“We want you to let Hiram help us with your treatment today. It will boost your relationship,” Blaine said. He pointed at the Infirmary’s inside door.

“Great,” Randy-James got up. “You’re in the best hands. I’ll go to my office to work. When you’re done, you two come in, okay?”

Both boys, hands together, looked back from the door. Hiram forced a smile. Hank nodded.

***

The massage session’s high point occurred after Hiram had been taken through all the steps of what he proudly called “lotionizing” his friend’s previously tortured, stripe-ridden back to the sound of Blaine’s murmurs about kindness, helping others feel better, increasing circulation so healing would come more easily…. Although chary about the attention that Hank’s buttocks required – as Blaine assured him – Hiram learned what his heels, palms, and fingers could do to free the area of “its residual tension.”

“You’ve been in there,” Blaine indicated Hank’s tender little anus. “It needs to be stroked like this to work both muscle and internal tissue.” Coated liberally with a different salve, the nurse-practitioner’s now gloved index finger rotated gently to probe before penetrating. “What you fellows did last night was too fast to do him any real good. The sex caught you up. Like the teens you are, spasms came quickly. For the most good, your sex together can do so much more for you both. Watch how slowly and carefully I push in – and look at his head to be sure he’s okay. Ask him.”

“Are you okay?”

“I am, Hi-ram. It’s real nice-like-that.”

“Yoo-hoo, pay attention to me now, Hiram.” Blaine nodded toward the original bottle. “While I slide very carefully in here, you lotionize the backs of his upper legs where those welts are.”

While exercising the new boy’s anus and rectum, a sight so compelling to Hiram’s eyes, Blaine urged his assistant to “go ahead with his lower legs and massage his feet.”

“Blaine?” came the first part of a request Hiram had no reason to imagine, “Can you open that little door? You know, so I can get milked? I’m real hard against the table pad.”

That reeled Hiram’s already overcharged mind. So many words from Hank – not hesitant. The machine underneath! He had never noticed it. He squatted to see what was happening. There went Blaine’s efficient hands unlocking a small, padded trap door through which his boyfriend’s genitals dropped, balls hanging and cock straining. A switch was clicked. A clear plastic tube, one end attached to the device on the floor and the other circled by a rubbery-looking ring was lifted onto Hank’s now slicked erection where it began a tugging motion.

“Oooo,” went Hank’s appreciative acknowledgment while Hiram hardened so much it hurt.

“Up here, Hiram. I note your difficulty. Take this ruler and measure your length for me. Both ways and across.”

“What?”

The ruler was thrust into his hands. Stymied, Hiram read the intent in Blaine’s eyes, turned away, performed the two tasks, rearranged his clothing, returned the ruler showing, “This long and this wide.” Whereupon, Blaine rummaged in a drawer to produce a cock-shaped dildo of the same width and somewhat longer.

“Take over. Coat it liberally. Tease him with it a little. Don’t be afraid, it’s just for your training in here. Your finger’s too small. In your room, you’ll do this with your own, most personal part, the part you just measured. You will. Uh-huh, like that. Slide it where my finger was and move it in time with these words. Do it while repeating what I say.”

Hiram gaped as Blaine resumed his stroking of Hank’s wounds, saying softly, “This is for you Hank.”

Tentatively, as he slipped in the dildo, Hank echoed, “For you Hank.”

The next minutes caused Hiram to burn with desire. His every motion in synch with chant-like phrases – about goodness and safety, happy life where mistakes are okay, trusting his new guide, Hiram, enjoying new friends, learning lessons, loving openly – stole gradually over Hank whose moans were of a happy young fellow in the throes of total surrender to sensuality. Nor was a word lost on Hiram. To Blaine’s increase in phrase-speed, the dildo went faster. One hand reached down to adjust the pump.

Hank went berserk.

Hiram came in his pants.

***

Clean up took time. The boys listened again and again to Blaine’s praise. To the instruction that Hiram must administer the lotion at least once every day, preferably in the afternoon. Handed to them went a bottle of soothing lotion, a jar of special cream, and their brand-new, personal tube of KY, which Hiram proudly pocketed.

The door to Randy-James’ office stood open. “Dad, we’re here.”

Randy-James closed down his computer’s screen. “How’d your sex-trance go?” His voice was purely professional. He gazed directly at Hank.

“Um, Blaine-told-us,” usually shy Hank looked at Hiram – showing still-pink cheeks from their event in the infirmary – and cleared his throat, “to give you a hug. Is-that-all-right?”

“Very much so.”

Like that, Randy-James, who had risen, was attacked from each side by squeezing teens.

“Nice, my boys. As we used to say when someone succeeded with a difficulty, you’re getting with the program. Have a seat, get comfy, and listen. You can even slouch, if that’ll help. Hank, being new, you need to be told that we don’t keep secrets here.”

Hiram itched to say that they did, a plenty, but thought the wiser. His ears stood at attention.

“We never bring up the past that came before any of us arrived here. The past doesn’t matter. On the Farm, life starts fresh. What we do is trust everybody. We do whatever we can to share the work in the fields, in the kitchen, in our own rooms, and the laundry, and enjoy as much group entertainment as we can. That’s why we have a gym and a pool, and why we view movies together and discuss them. Sometimes we stage plays. Why, we’re even going to have a show of Hiram’s photos in a gallery – look at him, he’s hearing this for the first time – in Capital City. Gotcha again, my dear brat!”

“Is that for real?” Hiram anxiously jostled in his chair.

“It is, when Mike selects the best of your best already processed and some new things from new subjects you’ll be shooting.” He returned to Hank, “Where individuality comes in is with our continuing education. See Hank, in your case and Hiram’s and Cosmo’s and Ting’s, it’s important schooling. You two must see that each other goes as often as possible – say, every morning after breakfast, - to the computer room for your on-line classes. As you adjust to them, you can go faster than in a public or private school classroom. Why, you might finish in less than four years. When you get stuck, someone will help you. Just ask. What is it, Hank?”

The boy held up a hand as if for permission to ask a question.

That’s progress!

“You-said,” he almost stopped, “you said not to talk about life before we came here but you also-said,” he balked for a second then spouted on a single breath, “you-said-I-should-ask-Hiram-about-life-with-his-mother.”

“Right! Great attention, Hank. Thank you. Now smile. Nice try. Hiram will help you learn how to smile like a Cheshire cat.”

“What’s that?”

“A clue for you to investigate. Here’s a hint: You and Hiram now live in a Wonderland.”

Puzzled looks brought Hiram to say, “We’re going to look it up.”

“While you are thinking about that, I have something to give you,” he addressed Hank. “It’s this.”

Quick-triggered, Hiram pointed, “Hey, that’s just like mine.”

“Yours looked just right on Hiram, so I brought this – intended as a back-up for yours if you ripped it or something. Do you mind if you both have matching suits?”

“No, Dad. We’ll look like everybody else.”

“My point exactly. You’re going to fit in as snugly as the suits fit you both. Good fits matter, don’t they, Hank?”

It was a trick question, one the new kid caught.

He cracked what passed for a smile, “We’re going to fit real good tonight.”

Why, he’s actually bragging. No hesitation. How charming is that?

They waved. Randy-James started to. “I forgot something else legal.”

They stopped. Turned back, eyes wondering.

“Take this ’phone number and return Ania Volsky’s call,” he instructed his son who had the stance of a grown-up. “Remember Child Protective Services? It’s for her follow-up call about your being in my custody and placed with me here on the Farm for your education.”

Hiram took the piece of paper, regarded it briefly, showed Hank, looked at Randy-James, smacked his lips just once. With confidence, he leveled, “I’ll take care of her, Dad.”

For the chapters which preceded this one, and for all my other gaydemon stories, please look see my profile. 

For my novel, peopled by sexually expressive characters of multiple generations and positive orientation, please look at Amazon.