A N.I.C.E. Boy, Part 14

Campaign to Arrest Pedophiles Causing Overcrowding Problems in Prisons

U.S. Daily News, May 17th, 2004

Ever since President Denton's initiative to put all pedophiles behind bars for

life began late in 2003, the nation's prisons have been complaining of

overcrowding. Over 15,000 pedophiles have been arrested in the last six months

alone, which when added to those men who are already serving life sentences

under the Two Strikes Law, brings to the total to over 67,000. While that number

is high enough, the greater problem is that over 34,000 men are either awaiting

trials or sentencing for crimes of pedophilia because of the crack down. Based

on recent conviction levels, it is expected that more than 30,000 of them will

receive life sentences.

Officials of the U.S. Department of Justice (which manages the Federal prison

system) and representatives of more than forty states met in Dallas, Texas for

three days to discuss possible solutions to the looming crisis. Some of the

options explored included using privately managed jails and expanding the

capacity of already overcrowded prisons. It was decided that the federal

goverment would examine ways to quickly construct a large number of facilities,

sharing the expense with the states. It is estimated that as many as 50,000 new

cells are needed at a cost of $80 billion, based on the existing standards for

prisons. However, one of the recommendations that was to be studied involved

building lolw-cost prisons in out-of-the-way locations where land is cheaper.

"The traditional prison farm is something that most people have tended to

overlook as a cost effective means of housing a large number of prisoners. It's

been my experience that this type of prison can become self-sufficient over

time. They are generally cheap to build and operate. Most of our pedo-prisoners

are rated at low to medium security and are ideal for prison farms. They are

usually willing to work after they've had treatment," said Brett Gerber, warden

at Canterfield Farm, part of the Missouri prison system. he was referring to

Missouri's requirement that all prisoners who carry the da Vinci gene are

sterilized if their sentences exceed ten years.

A N.I.C.E. Boy, Part 14

Chapter 14. 634 Bradley Street, Champain, Illinois. May 17th, 2004

On the way home, filled with increasing tension and unsettling trepidation,

Daniele used his fingernail to slit the plastic covering that enclosed the kit.

From the outside it was harmless, featuring the picture of a smiling boy in a

white t-shirt and shorts. Daniele thought he could not have been more than eight

years old. He was good-looking, a bit like Grey in some ways. All boy. His arms

and legs were stretched out, replacing the man in Leonardo da Vinci's diagram of

the man inscribed within a circle and square. The label was innocuous at first

glance. A bold blue logo on the side announced: 'NICE' with the 'I' and 'E' used

as the basis for two other letters, 'L' and 'V', above and below the letter 'C'

respectively. The same logo was on the front of the boy's t-shirt. Daniele could

not determine whether the letters were supposed to say 'LIVE', or 'EVIL'. It was

designed to fit within a pink circle, a somewhat dynamic circle for an oblique

line angled back to the boy, almost as if it pointed to his groin. Underneath

was 'Neutra-CUP', and 'Size 10, volume up to 1 cc'. Only the small print

revealed anything about its true nature: 'Approved by the National Institute of

Sexual Health', 'Caution, radioactive material inside' and 'Not to be used by

children under 6'.

It was a family rule that the kids always sat in the back seat of the car,

because it was safer there. He would have much preferred to be sitting in the

front seat, but for once, he appreciated the privacy afforded by the back of his

mother's seat. His hands trembled as he opened the cardboard box and separated

the parts, a silver-foil packet that contained the cup, a booklet, a tube of

ointment, a pink rubber band about 1/2 inch thick and of the same diameter, a

plastic bottle labeled 'Hydrogen Peroxide'. He felt a strange fascination when

be began to read the instructions that came with the kit.

The function of the 'Neutra-CUP' was explained in the first paragraph: "The

'Neutra-CUP' is a Contained Unmanning Procedure (CUP) device that if properly

used, can quickly and effectively achieve sterilization by testicular

attenuation. It has been developed to fulfil the requirements of the Natural

Intervention to Curb Evil Act; in particular the completeness, permanence, and

verifiability of the elimination of testicular function in prepubertal males.

The first two requirements are fulfilled within 48 hours of installation.

Radiation-induced DNA damage quickly results in cessation of cell development,

preventing all testicular functions from occurring in later years. Continued use

causes anything contained within the device to contract and diminish in size.

Verifiability is possible within ten days to two weeks after the device

disengages from the scrotum."

The words struck home, unsettling him even more than anything that the doctor

had said during the examination. Unemotional, technically precise, leaving

nothing to the imagination. He would be completely, permanently, and verifiably

unmanned when it disengaged. He knew what the words meant, even `testicular

attenuation'. His balls would shrink. It was that simple. The doctor said the

cup dropped off after the process was completed. She had called it being

neutered and she had talked about his being unable to father children and pass

the gene to them, but the changes it wrought were much worse. What it meant was

that he would never grow up to be a man like his father or Mr. Lane. He closed

his eyes and willed himself not to lose control and cry.

"Passive resistance", he murmured softly.

As he read, Daniele felt around the hemispherical halves of plastic cup. It was

small, each half of the size-ten cup when joined would form a sphere smaller

than a ping-pong ball. It was safely sealed in a foil bag, but he could easily

insert his finger into the concavities by depressing the foil. The void that

would be formed inside the cup when it was closed did not seem large enough to

hold even one of his testicles. Neither did it seem threatening. His finger

circled slowly as if trying to find something inside the little hemisphere that

could harm him. It felt smooth with just the slightest hint of a protruding lip

where the two halves came together.

His face still felt hot even though the window was wound halfway down. He

returned to reading, to thinking. Breathing took effort, almost sighing when he

exhaled. He had a thousand questions, things he wanted to say, but he sat in

silence. His mother was quiet as well. That bothered him. Normally, she was

talkative when they were alone. It was one of the reasons why he liked being

with her. Every few minutes, whenever he looked up from reading, he noticed her

eyes reflected in the rear vision mirror. She was watching him. He tried to

concentrate. The pictures in the booklet did not help. Well, they did and they

didn't. It was strange looking at photographs of another boy's genitals although

under different circumstances he would have been entranced. He wondered if the

genitals belonged to the boy on the front of the package. There was no way of

telling, but what he observed somehow looked artificial. The penis was

circumcised and limp, perhaps as long as two inches. It could easily belong to a

boy as young as eight, but none of the pictures inside the booklet showed his

face.

The pictures were all about before, installing, and after, when the little ball

finally dropped off. Afterwards was unsettling. The boy's penis was still the

same as far as Daniele could determine, but unlike the beforehand picture which

showed a pink smooth pouch with loose, almost translucent folds of delicate skin

that revealed the mounds of two testicles, in the afterwards picture there was

very little to see underneath the boy's penis. It looked as if the boy's scrotum

had shrivelled up. Daniele felt squeamish. Yet, even as he wanted to put the

booklet down and look out the window as they drove through the city, he kept

looking at the images. In a few weeks, he would be like that. With nothing

there. Neutered. That was what they called the treatment. Nothing left. He

choked with despair, muffling his sob with his hand until it passed and he had

to look again.

Even though Daniele had looked at plenty of photographs of naked boys that he

found on the Internet, it was strange how the images in the booklet affected

him. There was the same curious interest, the same satisfying awareness that

always came when he saw small hairless genitals like his own. Except when he was

with Mr. Lane, he kept his interest hidden, a shameful secret, furtively

scanning to feed his hunger, vaguely realizing what it meant, but still too

young to appreciate the full meaning of it beyond the need to keep it hidden.

Pictures of young boys always had that effect on him. If they were older, with

hair on them, he quickly lost interest. However, he liked what he saw in the

booklet. He felt the same glow of excitement, the nervous shiver that made his

heart beat faster. It was like looking at Grey or Nicky again. He could not stop

looking, even though he made several efforts not to look. Again and again, he

was drawn back to them. One of pictures in particular was magnetic. He studied

the photograph of the boy's genitals before the little blue ball had been

placed. Blue was size 15. The boy was several years younger than he was and his

testicles were noticeably bigger. They hung lower too at the bottom of the

pouch, not clinging to the underneath of his penis like Daniele's did. It was

disheartening to say the least, but what he saw was also thrilling. Once the

plastic cup was installed it looked weird, yet strangely exotic.

Finally, he put the booklet down. He had read enough. He had seen enough. The

thrill was gone. The very thought of what happened to his body once it was on

depressed him. Having it on would be strange, but it was far worse when it had

dropped off. Then, all that was left was a slightly darker, wrinkled fold of

skin hanging under the boy's penis. It was pitiful, but also reassuring in that

it appeared unhurt. However, somehow, some undefined way, the boy had been

transformed. Manhood had disappeared. The pink, loose skin that encased the two

small egg-shapes that could be seen in the before-photograph had vanished. But

how? Nothing had been taken out or cut off. It was simply gone, leaving a

streamlined look that was not unattractive in its own way. But, despite what the

doctor had said, and how convinced she had been at the time, he knew that it had

to hurt for that to happen.

"Dani,...."

"Yeah, Mom?" He sat up and closed the booklet so he would not be distracted.

"I was very proud of you today."

"Huh? Yeah, me too." He tried to sound brave.

"Are you worried?" She glanced back at the mirror. "You're worried, aren't you

Dani?"

Daniele shrugged. He was not about to reveal how he felt. He was not even sure

himself. His hand moved. He tried to resist the urge to comfort himself. Mr.

Lane said it was like that, a hunger that was always there, a beast that needed

to be fed, and it never went away. Never.

"Mom, I don't want to be a bad person," he said simply.

The urge to open the book and look intensified. His hand pulled back guiltily

away that if he opened the book he would be doing what pedophiles did.

"You aren't a bad person," she said consolingly.

"I don't want to spend the rest my life worrying about,..."

"I know, Dani. I don't want you to go to jail either when you're older."

"Maybe I can control it, Mom?"

For a moment he felt better, hopeful. His eyes flickered down to the booklet

again. He did not want to open it. He needed to open it and look. He told

himself that if he did, he would turn to the photograph of the little boy who

had been 'raped'. He could feel the boy's pain. There were tears on his

six-year-old face. The booklet said he was lucky to be alive after the pedophile

had finished with him. The booklet did not say exactly what had happened to him.

However, Daniele knew. A boy was 'raped' when a man's penis was forced into his

anus. He felt miserable. Other than killing himself, there was no other way.

Supposedly, some NISH scientists were working on a cure, but it might take

years. Until then, this was the only option.

"Mom?" he asked curiously.

"Yes, Dani."

"There's one thing I don't understand."

"What's that?"

He thought for a moment. He had read half a dozen books about genetics that Mr.

Lane had loaned him. They were difficult to read, at least until he understood

what all the words meant. Now, he understood more than most college graduates.

The subject of genetics was not as complex as it seemed.

"If I have the gene, why doesn't Joel?" he asked. His mother did not answer. "Or

Dad for that matter?"

He did not expound. His father was an enigma as far as Daniele was concerned.

His father was not like his friends' fathers. He never wrestled or rough-housed

with his father. Joel did sometimes, but it stopped as soon as Daniele wanted to

join in. It was almost as if his father did not want to touch him.

"I don't understand what you mean, Dear. What are you asking?"

It sounded to Daniele as if she was asking him to explain.

"Mom, this is what I know about it." Daniele thought for a few seconds,

arranging his thoughts. "The da Vinci gene is carried by the father. It's on his

Y chromosome so only boys get it, okay? That's why there aren't girl

pedophiles."

"Okay."

"So the father must have it when he passes it to his son. I have it so the only

way I could get it is from Dad. That means that Joel has to have it as well. But

he doesn't, Mom. His DNA test came back negative for da Vinci. It's not even

recessive for him."

"What are you getting at, Dani?" his mother asked. She sounded nervous.

"It doesn't make any sense, see? For me to have it and not Joel. Mom?"

"Yes, Dani.... I'm thinking."

"Mom," he said petulantly.

"Dani," she began nervously. She inhaled hesitantly. "This is difficult enough,

Dani. Just be patient,...."

"Dad's not my real father, is he?"

It was equally likely, or should have been, that Joel was not his real brother.

Yet, instinctively, Daniele had put his finger on the truth. He had that

ability, a remarkable ability to make sense from a very complex situation.

"Uh, um, well, Dani,... you're right. He's not your father. It's hard for me to

explain, Dani." There was a long pause. "Your father,.... when we wanted to have

you,... he couldn't,.... for some reason. Some men are like that. His sperm were

messed up in some way so I couldn't conceive. Maybe he used some chemicals in

the shop. We don't know. There was a special program at the University, at the

fertility clinic there. I had what's called artificial insemination."

"Oh!" Daniele considered it, his curiosity tempered momentarily. "Who's my real

father then?"

"I don't know." She sighed. "I know that sounds terrible. They wouldn't say who

it was. It could have been, well anyone, I suppose."

"Oh!"

Strangely, he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. It was so

very obvious, or should have been.

"Joel, well,...."

"What about Joel?" Daniele asked abruptly.

"When Joel was conceived your father was able to,... We wanted another baby so

badly."

"And you ended up with me," Daniele said miserably. "Because of some anonymous

sperm donor."

"Dani! It isn't like that at all."

"Yes it is. It explains a lot of things."

"Like what?"

"Why Dad loves him more. Try to tell me that Dad doesn't like him best! I'm not

blind, Mom."

"Dani! Dani, please,.... Don't be like this. I love you."

"I know Mom." he closed his eyes and shook head in frustration. "I love you too.

I can't help being angry, that's all."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Daniele did not answer right away. Part of him did not feel like talking.

However, it was easy to talk to his mother. She did not always understand what

he was talking about, but she listened.

"Mom, do you know what I read a few days ago? It was about the Y chromosome.

This scientist said at first glance it was largely landfill! He said it looked

like a dinky chromosome with a paltry number of genes, until you studied it in

detail. It has sixty million building blocks, but only a few dozen gene families

on it compared to like 2,000 on the X that I got from you. Did you know that?

Eventually it might even go away all together. There's only one master gene on

it and it's called SRY and it makes boys instead of girls. And out of a couple

of dozen other genes that are mostly doing nothing important, there's one gene,

the da Vinci one that goes around triggering all sorts of things on the Y

chromosome, and probably on the X as well. And I got fucked because of it!"

"Dani!" Had she heard correctly? Daniele almost never used bad words, not like

his brother and father.

"Well, I'm sorry, Mom, but I did. I didn't mean to cuss. Me and 3,000 other boys

my age got screwed because we've got the da Vinci gene and some of us might end

up as pedophiles. Do you know how they can test for it so easily? Because there

are so few genes on the boy chromosome. They just stain it and it shows up as a

blue stripe. I get a blue stripe and they want to cut my balls off because of

it."

"You're not going to be castrated," his mother sighed. "I would never let that

happen."

"Well neutered then! It's almost the same thing. I won't have balls after it's

done. Well, none worth having, anyway."

"I'm sorry Dani."

"It's not your fault."

He relented. It was not her fault. It was not his fault either. It was no one's

fault but God's and there was no point blaming him.

"Yes it is...." She paused. Finally, she sighed. "It was me who wanted another

child. Not your,..." She hesitated to say father, not now, not after what she

had just told him. "Dad." She barely managed to get the word out.

Daniele heard her voice crack. She didn't look up into the mirror again, but he

saw her hand lift to her face. He bit his tongue. His mother was crying. He

breathed out, realizing that the sooner it was done the sooner it would be over.

He was tired of banal platitudes and being angry. There was nothing that he

could do to stop himself. The booklet was very clear on that. In a few years his

hormones would begin to flow and his urges would overpower him. He had already

screwed up with Grey and Nicky, and if that was not bad enough, there was always

Carter. He could not even stop himself from looking at pictures of boys. As if

to prove the point, he looked at the pictures in the booklet once again,

relishing what he saw, feasting his eyes on the little boy's penis and pink

scrotum. He could lick it,... taste its sweet softness, feel the little hard

stalk dancing on his tongue. It was all he could do not to lift the booklet up

and press the image to his lips. He had to do it. It was either that, or spend

his life in jail. He knew he would be better afterwards. He could live and be

nice, or live and be evil. It should not have been a difficult choice.

A few minutes later, the car pulled into the driveway and stopped. Daniele

gathered together the few items that came with the kit, and the plastic

packaging. He followed his mother into the house, a small two-story wood-frame

house on a fifty-foot-wide lot. The house needed painting. The front garden was

mostly roses and stunted evergreen shrubs. It had that overgrown look that most

of the houses in the neighborhood tended to have. There were nicer homes a few

blocks closer to the University and the shopping area where Mr. Lane's bookstop

was.

He went up to his bedroom and closed the door. The last thing he wanted to see

was his older brother, half-brother really, he thought wryly. Joel knew where

they were going, that Daniele and his mother would probably be home late. He

tensed. It was difficult not to be resentful. He kept thinking 'why me?' even as

he spread the items out on his bed.

There was no going back. His hand shook as he picked up the foil packet. The

warning was repeated in bold black and red. 'Contains RADIOACTIVE Material.

Handle With Care.' There were instructions underneath in smaller lettering. It

was hard to read. He had to go back twice. His eyes watered. He blinked. Damn,

he was crying. He shook his head, muttering under his breath, 'passive

resistance.'

It was easy to open the foil packet. It was almost as if it wanted to be opened.

The red plastic object slid out and into his hand. Daniele breathed out. It

looked harmless, just like a child's toy, except for the silvery plastic film

that lined the inside of each cup. According to the booklet, that was the last

thing to be removed.

Daniele stood up. He swallowed, still thinking about what Mr. Lane said two days

earlier. His life would still go on. He could always find happiness if he

wanted. But no matter what he had to retain his self respect. He could do that

by `passive resistance.'

His hand moved to his waist and he momentarily fumbled with the metal button of

his jeans. It was always difficult to open. It didn't help that his hand was

trembling. He looked down and made a deliberate effort, finally levering the

button through the hole. He pulled the zipper down. Then, with his hands on

either side, he pushed his jeans down to his knees. He stood there, despondent,

regarding the small bulge in his white briefs. He had seen enough of his friends

on the swim team or at sleep-overs to know that his was not very large. Most

boys were a lot bigger, even at ten years old. He had never felt inferior until

then.

He shrugged and pushed his briefs down to join his jeans. Abruptly, he sat back

down on his bed. Perhaps he should have locked his door. The last thing he

wanted was someone to come in. However, he didn't get up. He reached down and

shoved his jeans and briefs down to his ankles. His bare legs were long, firmly

muscled as only muscles can be when they swim for an hour and a half every day.

He straightened up. He breathed out.

"This is it," he said aloud, but to himself. "Passive resistance, Dani. You have

to do this, but you don't have to accept it, and you don't have to like it,

and,...."

He took a deep breath. He was seconds away from bursting into tears. It was easy

to say be brave, but it was hard to be brave when the time came. It was time to

put it on. He sighed.

"Just do it and get it over."

He picked up the instruction book and opened it to the section on installing the

cup. Unlike the first page, it was written in easily understood terms, as a

series of steps. If there was any doubt about what needed to be done, the

photographs removed it. This time he looked at the pictures in a different way.

He placed his knees wide apart and picked up the rubber band. This was the easy

part the book said. He positioned it and carefully spread his fingers to stretch

it out. He leaned forward, looking down intently as he brought his hand up from

underneath, his fingers moving around his rounded taut scrotum until the band

was positioned.

His heart skipped a beat as the band slipped from his fingers and around his

scrotum. He dared to looked down. It was tight enough that it pulled into his

pouch, making a dumb-bell shape of his scrotum, but not so tight that it pinched

or hurt. It felt strange, almost,.... almost enjoyable he allowed himself to

think. There was excitement too. The book didn't talk about that, but it there

nonetheless. He could feel it, his adrenaline surging, making his heart rate

increase, increasing his excitement, stimulating his senses. The thrill kept

getting stronger as he looked downward. The booklet mentioned that erections

were usual. That it was nothing to be worried about, and certainly no cause for

embarrassment. Daniele's penis hardened quickly. He watched it grow, extending

outward, lifting up, thickening ever so slightly. Finally, fully hard, it stuck

straight out, all boy and quivering with a life of its own. Under any other

circumstances, he would have touched it, played with it, pulled it down between

his legs and let it go so that it slapped against his lower belly. But not this

time. He regarded it, the symbol of virility and maleness with dispassionate

disinterest. He licked his lips and made himself take a deep long breath to

settle down.

He glanced back to the booklet to make certain that he did not skip any of the

steps.

"Make sure that both testicles are inside the band," he read aloud. "The rubber

band provides a cushion and prevents injury to the skin."

He felt carefully. What the booklet said next about what to do if they were not

inside the band, did not apply. He moved on to the next step, picking up the

small tube of ointment. He unscrewed the cap and, following the instructions

carefully, squeezed out a long bead of white cream onto his finger. He started

to apply it to his scrotum. It felt cool at first. By the time he had applied

the second bead and rubbed it into his scrotum, he could feel a pleasant warmth

beginning. The photograph showed the boy's scrotum was almost white with

ointment so Daniele added more, applying it liberally. When the skin was

completely covered he wiped the excess from his finger with one of the paper

towelettes that came in the kit. His knees trembled. It was even warmer than it

had been a minute earlier. There was a tingling sensation, not itchy, but

reassuringly pleasurable. He wondered vaguely what chemicals were in the cream.

It smelled a little like the lotion his father used when his muscles were sore.

How long was five minutes? Daniele glanced at the cartoon character clock on the

wall. He could not stop himself from looking down, from seeing what was

happening. Nothing really. His scrotum appeared to be loosening, sagging the

same way it did when he was hot or lying in the bathtub. He looked away, his

eyes wandering around familiar territory. A lot of the books he saw belonged to

Mr. Lane's bookstore. On loan. He had to return them eventually, but there was

no rush. There were not many toys, just a few. He noticed Mervin Muddle, the

teddy bear. He could not remember why he had called the teddy bear that. Mervin

was old and bedraggled, but his. He had owned Mervin for as long as he could

remember. Mervin always sat next to his bed. Next to Mervin was the trophy from

the State Swimming Championships. Fourth place wasn't bad, not really when he

thought about how hard he had tried. He was going to miss practice. He looked

down again.

The ointment had worked its magic. Daniele stared. He had never seen his scrotum

soft like that. It was fully relaxed, the skin hanging in loose folds after it

emerged from underneath the rubber band. It was streaked with white cream. Now,

Daniele was able to locate and pull each testicle individually. They felt tiny,

like jellybeans that jiggled around and tried to escape his fingers until he

managed to get hold of them. The slippery delicate skin was so warm it was

almost glowing.

"Remove the protective plastic from the inside surface of each cup," Daniele

read aloud.

He put the booklet back on the bed and picked up the red cups. They were hinged

together because they could be closed, but there was no sign of the hinging

mechanism unless he looked very closely. With his fingernail, he picked off one

of the tabs and carefully pulled away the plastic, wondering what radioactive

material would look like. There was nothing to be seen. Invisible, insidious,

injurious, nothing there. Inside was red plastic, exactly like the outside. He

shrugged. It was difficult to believe that it could harm him. Perhaps it was

inside the plastic. He leaned over to read the booklet, going over Step 7 again.

This was the crucial step.

"Step 7. Place the cup on the scrotum. This is done by holding the right cup in

the right hand against the right side of the scrotum. Using the fingers of your

left hand, gently press the scrotum and both testicles into the right cup. Then

bring the left cup across and underneath, making sure that both of the testicles

remain within the cups. Slightly rotate the cups to settle the scrotum until it

is comfortable. The rim of the cups should be over the rubber band. Close the

cups together until it latches. You will hear a click when the connection is

made."

He placed the red cup against his thigh, awkwardly moving it toward his scrotum.

It touched. With his left forefinger he lifted his scrotum, pushing it into the

cup. His heart was pounding. The rubber band seemed to be too high so he

wriggled it down, lower until it became tighter and his testicles were forced

into a ball. He could almost hear Mr. Lane saying that this was his moment of

truth. He was going to be brave. Passive resistance, like Mr. Lane suggested.

Don't do it willingly but because he had to, because they made him do it. He

would do it because there was no other choice. He stopped for a moment and made

certain that it was placed correctly. Carefully, he brought the left cup up to

meet its opposite half. They had to be locked together to make a whole. It was

actually quite simple. A child could do it.

"Ouch! Fucking hell!" Daniele squealed.

He jerked the cups away, anything to get rid of the sharp pain. The cup had

pinched his skin enough to leave a small red mark.

He tried again, being even more careful, trying to make sure that both testicles

were contained so that the slippery loosened skin would not be caught. The

greasy ointment made it almost impossible. He tried to reposition the rubber

band. He almost had it closed. At the last second, just before it clicked, he

stopped. A tiny furrow of skin was caught. He tried to rotate the cup but

succeeded only in allowing one of his testicles to escape.

"Damn."

After three more attempts, he stopped and re-read the instructions to make sure

he was doing it correctly. In the photographs, it looked very easy and the

instructions were no different. It should have gone on without any difficulty.

He had pinched his scrotum twice. Obviously, despite what the doctor had

claimed, it was a two-person job. It was simply impossible for him to hold it in

place, get his scrotum settled properly, and close it with two hands. It was as

if his scrotum was too large to fit inside even though it was the correct size

for his testicles.

Daniele never gave up easily. He tried for thirty minutes before he stopped.

"Okay, Mom, I guess it's up to you," he groaned to himself.

He stood up, lifting his briefs and jeans at the same time. He was frustrated.

His excitement had ebbed. he went downstairs, carrying the tube of ointment and

the plastic cup. His mother was in the kitchen, preparing caesar salad for

dinner. No one in the family liked salad as much as he did. It was intended to

be a special treat. He watched her for a moment, until she noticed him. She

smiled, a smile that was anticipating, hopeful, alert to his mood.

"I can't get it on," Daniele said huffily. "I tried dozens of time."

"Why not? It's the right size. The doctor said it was. Are you sure you're doing

it properly?"

"Yeah. I followed the instructions exactly, Mom. I almost get it on, and then it

pinches. It hurts like hell."

Mrs. Webster nodded sympathetically. "Perhaps you'll have to go back to the

clinic."

Daniele grimaced. "I don't want her,..." He sighed. "I don't like her touching

me, Mom,..."

"Well, then just what do you have in mind?"

He swallowed, feeling the heat flush into his face. His mother was not a prude.

Neither was he. Still, he could not remember when she had last seen him naked.

It must have been years earlier when she used to give him baths, before he

started taking showers by himself.

"I thought maybe you could,..." he suggested.

He gave way to a shy smile, a smile that slowly changed until it was confident,

surprisingly so. He had nothing to be afraid with his own mother. She had always

loved him, and she would go on loving him despite what was happening to him.

"Me?" She sighed. "I,... Dani,.... I don't think,.... I couldn't, Dani. Please

don't ask me to."

"Why not?"

"Because,..." She sighed loudly, wondering why he did not understand. Dani,

because if you must know, I feel bad enough as it is."

She had been crying. Only then did Daniele notice her reddened eyes, the way she

blinked, how she tried to avoid looking at him.

"I can't do it myself!" he said desultorily.

"When your father,... when he comes home from work. I can ask him, if you don't

want to." She saw the look on her youngest son's face. "I'm sorry, Dani. I

really am. I wish,... well, there's no point in saying it. You know as well as I

do. What happened in the past is not something that can be changed."

"I don't want him. He wouldn't care if he hurt me."

"Oh Dani! You know that isn't true."

The expression on Daniele's face said otherwise. His fear was irrational, but

that did not mean it was less real. They waited in silence, except for the drone

of the television in the living room. The last thing Daniele wanted was for Joel

to come into the kitchen, although he suspected that his mother had warned him

to stay out of his brother's way.

"Mom?" Daniele began quietly. He felt subdued, resigned to trying to do it

himself despite the pain, again becoming the stoic that Mr. Lane sometimes said

he was.

"Dani, I can't, okay!"

"Please Mom?" he implored.

"Dani, if I'd known about this sooner.... We could have had it done when you

were younger,... It's not fair." She sighed, dabbing at her eyes before the

tears became visible. "If you can't do it yourself, then you'll just have to go

back to Doctor Sutton on Monday. I'm sure it will take her only a few seconds to

put it on."

"I'd rather Dad did it!" Daniele said angrily.

The words had venom in them. He could be like that sometimes. Capricious.

Seething with emotions that he could not understand. Sometimes it frightened

him. It made him hate himself, sometimes enough to think about alternatives, and

one alternative in particular. He wished he had gone under the bus. It would be

messy but it would be over quickly. He had always been impetuous by nature. His

teachers called him high-strung and moody. His father called him `a bad-tempered

son-of-a-bitch'. Mr. Lane had never called him anything even remotely like that.

Impulsive and spontaneous, even rash and reckless, but he never used words that

hurt. For some reason, Mr. Lane could always see the good side of him.

"Dani?" Mrs. Webster began in a soft calming voice.

"Yeah." His resolve weakened.

"I understand, honey. I know what you're going through."

That was all that she said for a long while. She went back to cutting up the

salad, getting the last of the water off the lettuce, knowing that Daniele was

still standing a few feet away, still watching her, still holding the things in

his hand because he did not know what to do with them.

"Dani,... you like Mr. Lane a lot, don't you?"

Daniele nodded slightly, then realizing that she could not see him, murmured,

"Uh huh."

For some reason he found it difficult to talk about Mr. Lane even though it was

very easy to talk with him. Why was that, he wondered in the silence that

followed? Part of it was a secret, the secret that he shared with Mr. Lane. They

both loved boys, but it was more than that. Why did he feel unconstrained every

time he visited the bookstore? It was like he had been set free. He was a

different person. Sometimes they just sat and talked. They talked about kooky,

zany, screwball things. Like if you pulled the wings off one side of a fly,

would it always fly in circles. And the time they talked about 'dicks', about

what if 'dicks' had personalities and could talk. His would be unruly and

whimsical, and always ready with a wisecrack. Mr. Lane's would be predictable

and determined, and always faithful.

That was the time that he had summoned up all his courage and demanded that Mr.

Lane show him, because it was only fair after all. He was nervous, but so was

Mr. Lane. It was like embarking on a great adventure. It was not the first time

that he had seen a man's penis. He had seen lots of them in the showers at the

swim club. Big ugly hair-covered ones. Men's penises were very different to

boys' penises, even the ones who had started getting hair around the base. Yet,

he was not repulsed. It looked a little like his own penis, only it was huge. It

was also darker, almost red in color at the end. That was why he called Mr.

Lane's dick, 'Rusty Cox'. They had not discovered the right name for Daniele's

yet, although 'Randy Weiner' was a hot favorite. It seemed to be perpetually

hard, at least it was whenever he was in the store. He could not help smiling

when he remembered some of the other suggestions for penis names. Some names

were obscene, of course, but most were hilarious. Mr. Lane's sense of humor was

of the things Daniele liked best about him. They made up other names for each

other constantly.

"Dani,..."

"Yeah?" Daniele murmured.

"I know,... you're,... you're close to him,... You told him about why you were

going to see the Doctor today. You did, didn't you?"

She waited until he acknowledged that he had heard with anther muffled murmur.

He sounded different.

"And you heard what Doctor Sutton said, didn't you? About the home schooling,

and,... er,... well,... about the other things,... when you get back from camp?"

"Yes," he replied carelessly. "I heard."

His mind was on something else, but even if he had been pressed, he would have

been unable to identify exactly what it was. It was not unusual for his anger to

dissipate quickly. He had felt empty until his mother mentioned Mr. Lane. He

thought about sitting in front of the fire, reading, curled up in the armchair.

Winter had been a happy season for him. Except for the incident with Nicky,

Spring had been fun as well. Until now.

"Do you want Mr. Lane, Dani? For the home schooling I mean. I could try, but it

would be difficult find the time, especially with my job."

They both knew what she intended. It was more than home schooling. The doctor

had talked about a mentorship program, although he did not understand what was

involved. Daniele swallowed, still reluctant to admit how much Mr. Lane meant to

him

"Yes."

She smiled enough to show that she understood. "Do you want to be with him?" she

asked quietly.

She did not elaborate and Daniele did not respond. He stared down at the floor,

at his sock- covered feet. Mr. Lane had told him once that to a boy lover, even

a boy's feet were sexy. Every part of a boy's body was a switched that `turned

on' a man's desire. It seemed a strange thing to say at the time. Then, a few

days later he had seen his next door neighbor's bare feet, five-year-old Bobby,

and he realized what he missed. Pink wriggly toes, perfect tiny toenails,

endlessly ticklish. It made him hard.

"I think maybe he's the person you need to see, Dani."

"About what?" Daniele's head lifted up.

"Well, for one thing, about putting that thing, that cup thing on you. It's

probably okay if he,..." She hesitated. "If he puts his hands on your,... body."

She breathed out. It was not as difficult to say as she expected. "No one else

would have to know," she added.

"You think I should go see him now?" Excitement crept into his voice. He wanted

to see Mr. Lane just to let him know that he had done his best.

"I won't have dinner ready until your father gets home. It's at least another

hour. You could ride down to the store on your bike, Dani. If you wanted to?"

she added hastily.

Daniele smiled happily. Even if he only stayed a few minutes, it would be good

to see Mr. Lane again. It was funny how he felt like that. Anxious and eager all

at the same time. Mr. Lane said it was because he was a devoted friend, but

inside they both realized it was more than that. Over the last few weeks

something had changed between them. Part of it was what they shared as

boy-lovers, and some of it was explained by what they did together, but they had

been friends ever since Daniele had wandered into the bookstore on his way home

from school. Knowing that he was going to see him again was enough to make him

very nervous.

He said good-bye and hurried out to the garage, inserting the tube of ointment

and the little plastic cups under his shirt and tucking it under the waist of

his jeans so they would not fall out. As he pedalled down the driveway towards

the street, he glimpsed his older brother watching him through the side window.

They didn't wave at each other. He hated Joel for being normal.