“That’s right, Paul,” Fred’s wife confirmed, “we went to bed early last night.” She smiled, and then flushed slightly with embarrassment as she remembered just how Fred had woke up, namely with his cock in her hand and his undershirt glued to his belly with what she’d assumed was the remnants of a hell of a good wet dream.

Fred’s wife left the room, and then Paul gave Fred the rest of the story.

“It seems as though your neighbor boys went apeshit last night. They said that the oldest boy had been ass banging the rest of them for over a year and they were tired of it and decided to stop it. I suppose just telling someone about it wasn’t good enough for the little fucks, because they took a hammer and Gallaghered his melon, so as to speak.”

“You mean they tried to brain him?” Fred asked with what he hoped was the right amount of surprise and curiosity. He could have corrected the cop and told him it was a croquet mallet and not a Sledge-o-Matic that the boys had used, and it was his plums, so as to speak, that got mashed, but he kept quiet.

“No, but he probably wishes he did get hit in the head. They crushed his balls instead. Anyway, they can’t seem to remember who came up with the idea to nut him, they claim it just sort of happened.” Paul said.

“Ouch! That must have hurt like hell!” Fred opined, and then added. “If you ask me it’s those damned video game they play that puts those kind of ideas in their heads. They ought to outlaw them!” He was apparently off the hook. The boys hadn’t ratted him out.

Wayne came home from the hospital after only a few days, and the boys all spent several hours with youth councilors, but when the story of Wayne’s abusive ways came out the whole thing just kind of blew over, and everyone concerned figured the kid had it coming and deserved to be castrated. Bob’s monthly shortarm inspections continued, and through the weather service Skycam Fred could see that the boy really was nutless. His cock was the same, and he still had hair down there, but his scrotum was now empty and stayed tucked tightly up beneath his dick even though it was at least eighty degrees in the room. He was even more embarrassed now about having to strip in front of everyone and retract his foreskin, but his foster dad treated them all alike and made Wayne participate even though it was now extremely unlikely that he would be contracting VD.

The other boys were rapidly maturing, and it was only about another month before Stephen, the youngest, started joining the others in their late night circle jerks. That was as far as it went, though, and they never played cards again, and as far as Fred could tell they never abused each other in any way. Dennis and Michael, the older boys, had tired of this sport and they usually left the balcony to the younger boys and their newly discovered pleasures while they concentrated on the next phase of a young man’s life: Getting laid.

Three months after the ‘accident,’ as it had been reported, Wayne was missing from their morning formation runs. He couldn’t really run very well anyway, but Bob made him follow along the best he could.

“Wayne went in the hospital this morning for a little bit of minor surgery.” Bob informed Fred. He came home in better spirits, and the next month’s shortarm inspection revealed that Wayne was now sporting a magnificent set of silicone implants. The appearance of normality seemed to help the boy’s confidence immensely, and he was soon back to being a smartass teenager, although Fred and the boys all knew that he was still just a sterile, nutless wonder who would never physically outgrow adolescence.

“Hey Wayne,” Fred was prone to asking the boy whenever he met him. “How’s it hanging?” He would then openly laugh at the boy’s embarrassed, high-pitched, stammering.

Fred wasn’t really surprised when the boy moved away.

“Wayne got hurt a while back.” Bob, the foster parent explained without giving Fred the details. “He decided that he’d be happier living somewhere else, but to tell you the truth his new parents seem kind of strange to me. I mean, two older ladies living together? What would they have to offer a teenage boy?”

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Fred met the newest member of the family, or troop, or whatever the fuck they called themselves a few weeks later when they paused on their morning run. Doug was seventeen, tall, dark, and according to Fred’s wife, handsome. He wasn’t dark like a Latino or Asian; it was more like a deep suntan, and like the other boys he ran shirtless. His hair was a little longer than Fred figured that Bob would tolerate, and he had a well-muscled, graceful, athletic build. He had no discernable beard and his arms and chest were smooth and hairless, but coarse dark hair adorned his legs and a small tendril of his pubic bush crept out of the waistband of his shorts and was edging towards his navel.

“Pleaded to meet you, sir.” The youth said, offering a polite bow instead of the customary handshake. He spoke with an accent, possibly European, which Fred couldn’t identify. He was so submissive, as well as polite, well groomed, and deferent that a thought immediately occurred to Fred; his career as an airline pilot had brought him into contact with a number of young, pretty-boy cabin attendants, and the body language was unmistakable---Fag.

Later that day, over a cup of coffee, Bob told Fred that the youth had a ‘troubled’ past and the agency felt that he would benefit by the disciple included in Bob’s style of parenting.

Later that evening, Fred paused while retracting his National Weather Service Skycam to check out the boys’ room. The camera was located on a utility pole in Fred’s back yard, and he took it off-line and retracted it every evening at sundown. He could stop the retraction at any elevation, but he couldn’t rotate the camera to a different direction. Several years ago he had discovered that it could be aimed directly at the balcony of the room over the garage a few houses away, and since that time Fred had made an almost nightly habit of spying on the activities in the bedroom, or actually barracks, of the foster boys that lived there.

The room had been built as a deluxe bedroom suite for the teenage son of a wealthy family, but had subsequently been remodeled into a Spartan housing accommodation for half dozen or more boys. It had four double bunk beds and a common bathroom/shower area in one end. There was no other furniture in the room, as it was meant for sleeping only. The boys studied and did their homework downstairs, as well as whatever in house recreation they were allowed.

Fred could now see that his earlier intuition about the new bay was probably correct. The other boys all stripped to shower and dress, but other than those times, and during Bob’s monthly shortarm inspections, they had usually remained clothed. It may have been out of modesty, decency, or even possibly embarrassment at their endowments, but they didn’t flaunt what nature had given them. They would slip out onto the balcony deck late at night to masturbate, usually singly, or sometimes in pairs, but even then they kept their tee shirts and shorts on. Doug was different; as soon as they entered the room he stripped down and paraded around naked. It wasn’t as if he had anything special either.

Fred could see that nature had been kind to him, but not extravagantly so. He had the biggest balls in the room, but he was also three years older that any of his companions. They hung low in a scrotum that looked lighter in color than the rest of the boy’s skin. His cock wasn’t much longer soft than his companions,’ but it was somewhat thicker. Fred watched the boy go to the balcony railing, hawk, and spit, and as he was turned away from the room he gave himself a couple of strokes to keep it fluffed up some. He continued his display of manliness for a half an hour, and then like the others he went to bed.

Fred’s sixty-five year old plumbing demanded that he either rise about midnight or piss in the bed, and he sometimes turned on the camera to check on the boys. Richard was alone on the deck. He was the least physical of all of them, and being genetically disposed to heaviness he wasn’t able to run as fast as the others. He had a good attitude, however, and Fred considered him to be the smartest of all of the boys. He was also the least physically developed and was the last to enter puberty.

Ten feet below the balcony and five feet away, just beside the property line fence, a small fishpond had been construed. It was fed by an underground spring and held water all year. Bob’s wife tried to raise goldfish in it, but they always seemed to die. Richard, feeling the same urge as Fred, pulled out his dick and released a long, luxuriant stream of piss over the rail and into the irresistible target. Fred could see him then move to the corner of the balcony and glance back in the room to ensure his privacy before starting to furtively pump his cock, and he was soon so caught up in the Great American Teenage Pastime that he was unaware that Doug had joined him on the deck.

Doug reached out and touched Richard on the shoulder, startling the boy and causing him to instinctively stuff his stiff cock back into his shorts. Fred then saw Doug touch his finger to his lips in the international signal for ‘keep quiet’ before sinking to his knees in front of the younger boy. Richard seemed unsure of what was happening, and he tried to turn away but the older boy held him firm, pulled his shorts down, and took the lad’s cock into his mouth.

Fred whoring days had long passed, but in his time he had received a goodly number of professional as well as amateur blowjobs and he recognized a good one when he saw it, and Doug was giving one of the best. He took the younger boy’s cock fully into his mouth, and then extended his tongue out far enough to caress the lad’s balls. He then removed his mouth from the cock and slid his lips along the underside of the shaft. He obviously had a lot of practice in the fine art of delaying his partner’s orgasm, and he managed a full two minutes with the virgin Richard before the younger boy gave a sudden lurch and became suddenly weak in his knees.

Doug’s cheeks bulged with the emission, and he swallowed without removing the cock from his mouth. He then took it out long enough to finish swallowing before mouthing it again and sucking it dry then licking it clean. He patted the younger boy on the ass, pulled his skivvies up for him, and then sent him off to get a good night’s sleep. With the balcony all to himself Doug then slowly masturbated, taking almost fifteen minutes before casting his seed over the railing and going back to bed.

Fred turned off his monitor in disgust at the perversion he had just witnessed, and it was only when he rose to return to bed that he realized he had an erection larger than he had known in several weeks.

Fred was appalled, shocked, mortified, and offended by the scene, and he became even more so over the following weeks, during which time he had watched Doug suck off each of his bunkmates. Innocent youths experimenting with newly discovered sexuality was one thing, and he could forgive that temporary behavior, but this kid was a fucking queer. He genuinely liked to suck cocks and appeared to be really good at it.

Fred didn’t consider himself to be homophobic, in fact he wasn’t literally afraid of homosexuals; he just plain didn’t fucking like them. There hadn’t been any of the ‘don’t ask-don’t tell’ bullshit when he had been in the Army. A guy was either normal or he wasn’t, and in the event it was the latter he wasn’t ‘Gay’, he was a fucking queer and fair game for every shitty thing that the other guys could do to him before he was ultimately ran out of the service. Fred would tolerate them as cabin attendants, but he sure as hell didn’t want one in the cockpit with him.

Things were different now, or so he had been told, and a Modern Man respected diversity, or whatever bullshit thing they called it. Fred was okay with that, and as long as the fucking fags stayed either in the closet or in San Francisco he wasn’t going to bitch, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to tolerate the neighbor kid turning his foster brothers into queers.

Fred had no doubts about that happening, as the boys all seemed to like getting blown by Doug. They were into group blowjobs now, and at least once a week they would lock their arms together and form a tight circle around the sitting boy, who would suck each one of them for a few seconds before commanding them to rotate so that he would be facing a fresh cock. At least one of the boys would usually unload prematurely and give Doug a facial treatment or protein-rich shampoo application, but he swallowed the rest of their loads enthusiastically, as if always hungry for more.

Doug would always have a boner while he was giving head, and although Fred couldn’t hear what was being said in the room it looked to him like he was trying to get one of the boys to either reciprocate the favor or at least give him a hand job, but he had no takers on his offer and always ended up just jacking off.

The boys always seemed to be happiest on the morning after one of the suck-a-thons, and there was no doubt in Fred’s mind that Doug was slowly getting to them. He would pause on his morning run and offer Fred a wide smile, but all Fred could see was the jizz dripping off of his chin the night before, and he imagined that he could still smell it on the kid’s breath. The last straw occurred one morning when Doug, assuming that no one could see him, ran his hand down the back of Richards shorts and fondled his ass when they stopped to talk to Fred.

“Someone should nut that little fucker.” Fred said aloud as they continued their morning run.

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To be continued.