Operation Sugar Plum, Part 1

Round the corner of the building by the boys' dormitory I came face to face with a girl - one of the locals hired by our cook, Dolores. She murmured "Ola, Capitan" in a way that made it clear what she wanted. Unzipping my jeans I felt under her cotton skirt for her tiny black thong and as I pulled it to one side she clamped her muscular thighs round my waist and her arms about my neck as I found the way inside her. For a few seconds I rammed into her. Then she shook herself free and with a cheeky Vaya con Dios, Capitan! skipped off down the path to do whatever she had to, and I went for a swim to freshen-up.

But I wasn't in the middle of Paraguay just to screw my employees. Six months earlier I'd been part of a trade mission to one of the Gulf states. One evening my boss, Hugo Liston, told me to come along with him to meet the Minister of Culture on a matter of some delicacy. Like all Ministers in that country, he was a relative of the King. One didn't refuse invitations like that.

His Highness offered us some of the rarest cognac I'd ever seen (as a Muslim he didn't join us) then came to the point. In his country the ancient harem culture was under threat, the limiting factor being that boy-eunuchs, the mainstay of the system, were virtually unobtainable. Traditionally, boys had been brought by dealers from West Africa overland to ports on the Red Sea, where they had their balls cut off (the Minister didn't mince his words) and after spending time in a holding area to heal up, they continued their journey to the Gulf and their new lives.

But civil war in most West African countries had interrupted this supply. The dealers came only fitfully if at all. The only country to make eunuchs in any quantity was India and these were young men rather than boys, and religious freaks into the bargain. Quite unsuitable. Two things were needed. First, an alternative source of young boys with no connections and no possibility of any "come-back" from their disappearance. Secondly some way of having them castrated in a clandestine way, under antiseptic conditions - the crude surgery of former years had had too high a "failure" rate.

Where did I come in - a relatively junior member of the delegation with a specialism in vegetable oils? His Highness looked me in the face. "Captain Donald, I have heard of you as a much-travelled man of much experience and wide knowledge. What do you suggest?"

Fortunately for me, my brain is capable of working very fast under pressure. There was a source of young boys: the street children of any South American city - totally friendless and regarded by the police as vermin - there were instances of them actually gunned-down and their bodies taken to city rubbish dumps for incineration. How to tap into this source was another matter, but assuming I did, there were interesting possibilities……..

Pharmacology was outside my department but we used to get the Pharma section newsletter and some time before, I'd seen an article that stuck in my mind because of its unusual content. Plantation owners in Central America, who used a great deal of child labour, had been accustomed to castrate the boys to prevent casual sexual misbehaviour with the girls. They also believed that castration appeared to make the boys stronger for work: like plough horses after being gelded, all their energies went into developing muscle. The problem was getting the operation done surreptitiously. Responding to this, scientists in the USA had perfected a drug - clinically trialled in the late 90's and declared 100% effective - which, when injected directly into a boy's testicles, firstly prevented any secretion of testosterone, and over a short time caused the testicles to wither away. Just as importantly, the boy's penis reduced both in length and thickness and lost its power of erection. The boys used in the trials were mostly Hispanics aged from 11 to 13.

Photographs taken during the trials showed how the finest-grade needle was used, inserted right into the testicle. No local anaesthetic was needed since the process was entirely painless. A photograph of the same "patient" taken a fortnight later showed a marked shrinkage in the genital area, whilst a month later the boy's scrotum was reduced to a fold of puckered skin, whilst his penis, which for good measure had been circumcised, was at the most 4 cm. long and would be even shorter in cold weather. The drug attacked all hormone-bearing tissue. Boys who had their balls pricked were emasculated - impotent and sterile - as completely as by total removal.

The Minister kept up his searching glance. "Well, Captain Donald?"

"I believe there are possibilities, Your Highness".

I outlined them, making it very clear I would need to try them out on the ground and would need funding - as a Civil Servant I could hardly go swanning off to South America on my salary. The Minister nodded, and turned to Liston. "Will you arrange leave-of-absence for Captain Donald, Sir Hugo?" Liston would.

"My aide is fully at your disposal, Captain Donald. Please let him know what you think you will require as start-up costs". A suave young man had appeared. He ushered me into a side room where I did frantic mental arithmetic and came up with a figure that didn't sound outrageous. "You are too modest, Captain Donald" said the young man. "I have already prepared an advance for you, in cash". From a cupboard he produced a briefcase, packed with US bills - there must have been five times my estimated figure.

And so Exercise Sugar Plum, as it appeared on the files, got off the ground. On the flight to London I mentally selected Asuncion as my target. It was smaller than Rio and more obscure. Besides, in Paraguay I believed that every man had his price. Back at my office I threw myself into preparations, first cabling my old contact and general factotum in Rio, "Santiago" Lopez, asking him to fly at once to Asuncion and do what he could. I would need a base, reasonably far from the city, like a disused hacienda: I would need transport. I would need staff. I needed to know the name of the Chief of Police to outline my project…….

My project, so far as the Police Chief was concerned, was to recruit two football teams from street boys and after training, enrol them in the international juvenile league: in a continent that was football crazy I was certain this would strike the right notes.

When it came to sourcing the boy-neutering drug, which was the key to the whole idea, I initially drew a blank. There was no way that the pharmaceutical corporation would release it to an unqualified person. However, they placed at my disposal one of their staff, a Doctor René Ledoux, a French Canadian, who would be prepared to work wholly to my instructions. Again I cabled Santiago Lopez, telling him that there must be suitable accommodation for Doctor Ledoux.

Ten days later Lopez cabled me to say that everything was ready. Ledoux had arrived. The Chief of Police was a Colonel Rodrigo Gomez, whose only known passion was collecting stamps. That same evening I was on my way to Buenos Aires, club-class.

At the transit lounge Santiago Lopez met me with a delighted roar of recognition: Olé, Capitan Donald! Everything goes well - you shall see! On the final leg down to Asuncion he told me of his arrangements. He had had remarkable luck over accommodation. The Salesian Fathers had just vacated a residential home for handicapped children, ten miles outside the city. Lopez had been able to take over the lease as a going concern, with all furniture and fittings. All services - phone, electricity, mains water - still worked. There was a cook, Maria, who would provide a continuous supply of chilli con carne and fajitas for the boys and a more varied menu for the señores. There was a laundress, Lena, and a groundsman-caretaker, Cardozo. Cardozo had already enlarged the children's play area to something approaching football pitch size, and had obtained goal posts and netting.

Arriving, I thought the place was even better than Lopez' description. The only approach was by a dirt road: on the other three sides it was protected by a great wall of greenery. Parked in front was the transport Lopez had bought: a Mercedes mini-bus seating 15 and a Honda 4 x 4. The staff accommodation was comfortable and cool: Lopez had reserved the former Principal's room for me. I noted a small out-of-the-way room that Ledoux could use as a "surgery" when the time came. There were two large airy dormitories for the boys, with shower-rooms and toilets adjoining. As for the refectory there was a hive of activity, three or four local girls scrubbing everything under Maria's energetic supervision. One of the girls fluttered her eyelids at me and flashed the sort of smile that meant, that whatever else went on, I at least would not go short of sex. Fortunately I always packed a good supply of rubbers.

Sitting out on the verandah I met Doctor Ledoux, a plump, voluble French Canadian. He assured me he was comfortable, and was enchanted with tropical South America: the birds, the flowers, the butterflies. However, he wanted to impress on me that his main aim in coming was to castrate boys and the sooner he got started, the better.

A few years before, Ledoux had been one of a team trying out the "elastration" method. First developed for castrating newly-born lambs, there had been hopes of modifying it for neutering young boys. Progress had been slow. Then he joined the corporation that had developed "Neutersol". He had been involved with all the trials to date and found the drug impressive. "It destroys them, you know, cords and all. But entirely without sensation. The boys in the trials only noticed the change in their cojones after about a fortnight I'm all for neutering as many as possible. It produces big strong boys with tiny penises. It's possible that some don't even realise they have no testicles until someone tells them".

"Do they still have any sexual longings?" I asked.

The doctor shrugged. "Who can tell? When I was working in Saudi, I castrated dozens of boys. With young ones, up to the age of ten, the burdizzo method was sufficient. At that age the skin of a boy's scrotum is almost transparent and it is easy to find the spermatic cords and destroy them.

"With older boys you have to be more drastic.There was one in particular, they called him Anthony, clearly European but no one seemed to know exactly where from. Nice looking kid, fair hair, brown eyes, age about thirteen. There was this family, very wealthy, with a teenage daughter. They wanted Anthony as a companion for her, but they were very, very traditional. All male attendants must be suitably pruned!

"So the boy's balls had to come out. I got him thoroughly sedated, then up on the table and off with his pants. He had quite a big penis for his age and could have given a girl a good time in a year or two. Balls just starting to swell. I gave him a shot of novocaine on both sides then got the clamp on and made the incisions. Tightening the clamp made the balls pop out of their own accord so all I needed to do was cut the cords as far up as possible. That removes the nerves that control erections. So he came round, to find he had an empty scrotum and a penis that was permanently limp. He howled his eyes out. He knew what he was missing; no mistake".

"Didn't you feel bad about that?" I asked.

The doctor laughed savagely. Castrating boys was his passion- why should he be concerned about one parentless waif breaking his heart over the loss of his manhood?

Next day was extremely busy. I armed Lopez with a shopping list and a wad of dollars and told him to buy a sufficient quantity of "strips" in two colours - the royal blue of Chelsea and the scarlet of Manchester United, also a white "strip" for day-to-day wear, stockings and trainers. The assumption was that the newcomers would have nothing of their own, so he should also get a large quantity of toothbrushes, toothpaste, face cloths and soap. For the rest he could use his initiative. He went off with the Honda after dropping me at Police Headquarters where I had made an appointment to see Colonel Gomez.

The police chief was a thin-faced, dark-featured, silent man. He accepted my offering of stamps without a word, although I caught a gleam in his eyes (this was a relief, the stamps had cost an arm and a leg in London.) For the rest, he was courteous, brief and to the point. I should need a licence to operate my football training school. (He named the fee, a large one.). For touring outside Paraguay a group passport would be necessary (He named the fee, an even larger one: how I blessed the Sheikh's aide at that moment). On both issues I should address myself to Officer Barrillas, whom he would direct to give me all the assistance in his power. As to my project, he considered the street children little better than vermin, but if I wanted to make contact. I would be advised to approach Father Luis, who had dedicated his life to the welfare of these waifs. I thanked him, and resolved to meet Father Luis without delay.

Arriving back at the school, I found everyone assembled at the back, by the newly-cleared football pitch, The attraction was two slim youths running up and down the length of the pitch, passing the ball from one to the other with great skill and dash. Clearly this was something that Santiago had arranged for my benefit. I asked them who they were, and in response he bellowed down the field Hola, Batista! Rafael! and indicated they should come over.

The boy called Rafael spoke first, in the local dialect which I didn't know. The other, Batista, translated - surprisingly - into English. "My frien' say he is very 'appy to be in this nice place, to see the Señor Capitan, and to play football. I also am very 'appy". He gave me an engaging grin showing rather nice teeth. Meanwhile I was doing a double-take. The boys were about fifteen at a guess, but of the usual incipient moustaches they had no trace. Also their voices were not the croak of adolescence but those of young children. Santiago had found me my first two boy-eunuchs .

Both boys were tall for their age, with olive complexions and rather Indian features. Dressed in their blue and red football outfits, they looked the part. Under the shower, stripped, you noticed their round bottoms and long slim legs. Rafael had a recognisable, though empty, scrotum, the castration-scars clearly visible; Batista none at all. Both had tiny penises, which they would never be able to put into a girl, or even masturbate. But they were good-humoured and lively. I quickly decided not to send them to the Gulf with the first shipment but to keep them on as team captains. Quickly accepted as natural leaders by the younger boys, their presence was an enormous help.

Their histories, when I got to know them, were quite different. Batista had been at a carnival, where someone slipped a lighted firecracker into the pocket of his shorts. The explosion blew his scrotum to rags. All that the Sisters at the charity hospital could do was to staunch the bleeding and tidy him up. Rafael on the other hand had been kidnapped and taken to a remote hacienda, the haunt of paedophiles. His anus bled from their repeated assaults. To render him more docile, he was taken to a nearby ranch, and while others held him down, a veterinary assistant gelded him, cutting out his testicles and severing the cords with a very small penknife. The pain was excruciating; he had screamed and screamed, finally passing out. When he was healed sufficiently, he escaped back to the city.

Later that day, I got together with Ledoux over the timetable. It would take the best part of a week to get the boys properly kitted-out and presentable, to deal with matted hair, discoloured teeth and filthy toenails. At the end of that week they would have their balls pricked. A fortnight should be allowed for the drug to have a visible effect: to be acceptable to the Minister they should not only be castrated, but their genitals obviously reduced. It would seem reasonable to prepare documents and flight reservations for a week after that, and once the first draft were safely on their way, I could see about recruiting the second……..