Tim's Last Orgasm 2: Eric's Plan

Eric Thomas sat in his kitchen, thinking of the contact he'd made earlier on the chat line. He was beside himself with excitement, thinking of the possibilities of things to come. This was just so incredibly perfect! He could not believe his luck, meeting this kid who seemed so genuine, so real! He had come right out and said, with no hesitation, that he wanted a penectomy! Sixteen years old, and from his self description, he was a nice looking kid, everything physical was there and pretty well normal!

Eric, 39 years old and a bachelor, had dabbled in S&M most of his life. Things like handcuffs, tit clamps, whips and chains had been part of his assembly of toys since he was a young teen. But it wasn't until his parents had died in a plane crash two years ago that he really got serious about his secret interest. With his inheritance he had pretty well remodeled the basement of what had been his parents' home in the suburbs of Atlanta. He had slowly, gradually so as not to attract attention installed a small cell, various chains and hoists, a lot of surgical equipment including a small examination table that he had modified to allow him to strap his victims in just about any position he saw fit.

He had used his torture chamber a few times during and after its construction, usually with men his own age or a little younger who were into such things. It had provided him with many hours entertainment, but he was always open to something new, and this new prospect was very exciting for Eric. It was March now, and this kid Tim had said that he would be out of school by the middle of June. That would give Eric three months to study up on what was necessary to perform the surgery safely, and that seemed more than enough time to Eric. After all, what could be that hard about lopping off a boy's dick?

Of course Eric would have to come up with a plan to enhance the procedure. He had absolutely no interest in a scenario that simply said "come on in, make yourself comfy, SNIP, thanks, see ya." Eric's interest was not so much in body mutilation or modification, but the process in getting there. Eric loved to inflict pain! Actually he loved to be on the receiving end as well, so his task now was to engineer a "scene" that involved his receiving some pretty severe pain and humiliation, then doing the same to his young victim before finally removing his sex.

This Tim kid had said he had no interest in S&M, he simply wanted his cock gone. But that was no problem, Eric thought. The kid seemed pretty desperate, and Eric knew enough about medical practices to know that no self respecting doctor would do the deed. So he had three months to convince the kid that he, Eric the Terrible, was his only choice!

Eric was not a predator, nor was he a pedophile! He had never been involved either sexually or S&M-wise with a minor, didn't seek them out or even fantasize about them! The fact that this kid was only 16 was actually a bit of an impediment for Eric, because he knew of all the added risks should he be caught. But it was the chance of a lifetime and Eric, in his current state of arousal, was more than willing to take the risk! He would have to convince the kid though, because Eric had never submitted anyone to anything against their will. Oh, he had inflicted enough pain to get his victims screaming many times; he had himself been in positions where he had screamed himself hoarse! But that was all part of the game, wasn't it? There were men out there, and presumably boys as well, who really got off on being tortured and humiliated. This kid Tim was very obviously one of these, else why would he want to keep his balls? He actually wanted to have his cock cut off but keep his balls, his hormones, his sexual identity and desires. That was clearly, in Eric's eyes, submitting oneself to a lifetime of torture of the worst kind! Eric could envision a long and painful association with this kid.

All of that aside, Eric got ready for bed that night with, as the old story goes, visions of sugar plums dancing in his head; only the visions in Eric's head weren't really any sort of candy or fruit, but to him even more delicious. Eric's visions were of a delectably handsome young teen, splayed naked in his basement, marks of whips and canes, piercings and adornments all over his body. In Eric's fantasy that was fast becoming a plan, this kid had agreed readily to a little "foreplay" as full payment for his penectomy, which would only come after days of suffering.

"I got it!" he screamed to an empty house as he sat up in bed and turned on the light. "I'll have him become my total slave for a week! I won't allow him any clothes at all, I'll get a chastity belt for him and make him wear it except of course when his master, ME, needs pleasuring! I'll keep him in the cage when I'm not here, and of course he'll sleep with me, his ankles chained to the bed. If he gets discouraged, I'll reward him with a little sexual pleasure to keep his interest."

Quickly, Eric sat at his desk and began scribbling notes. He had completely misread his new intended victim, totally misunderstanding Tim's motives and interests. But in his excitement at finding what he thought would become his slave for at least a week or two, maybe a month, he had lost all sense of reason. "Maybe after a week or two of submission, he'll like it," he thought as he wrote. "Maybe I can convince him that having his genitals secured in a chastity belt is much better than having them cut off. Maybe we'll make the arrangement permanent!"

Eric trembled with excitement as he jotted down the equipment he would need for the various activities he was planning. Then he began making careful plans as to what to say to Tim in their future chats so as to attract and encourage the boy, to talk him into what was fast becoming a necessary part of Eric's life, without scaring him off. It was three hours later when Eric finally went back to bed. He would only have four hours sleep before he had to get up and go to work, but it would be worth it. He would have to get off early again tomorrow because he'd promised he'd be online by 4, which would mark the beginning of his campaign. First step: to convince Tim that he would never get a legitimate doctor to perform the surgery, which would leave Eric as his only option. Step two: convince him to have his cock secured and out of his reach rather than having it off.

* * *

Tim had some trouble getting up for school in the morning. He didn't have time for breakfast, but he usually didn't eat much in the mornings anyway. He had relieved himself in the shower as usual, but that only took a few seconds and he knew if he didn't, he would have a raging hardon until he did. His dad had already left, and his mom was upstairs putting on her makeup. "Bye, Mom," he called as he went out the door. He didn't hear a response, if indeed there was one.

"Hi, Tim!" Randy McLean called as soon as Tim approached his locker. "I been waitin' for you." Waiting for me? Tim thought to himself. A slight shiver coursed the length of his body. Randy was Tim's latest heart throb, and had been for months, ever since they had beat off together in Randy's tree house for the first time. Larry had got himself involved with a girl and wasn't around that much lately, so Tim had started hanging out with Randy. [Randy was waiting for ME?
"Hey, Randy," Tim replied. "What's up?"
"I just wanted to make sure you're goin' to baseball tryouts today," Randy said. "Some of those new kids look pretty good, so if you're not there someone else might get your first base position."

"Shit!" Tim exclaimed. "I forgot all about it!"
"You can't go?" Randy inquired, his concern written all over his face.
"Yeah, I can go," Tim replied. "I had just forgotten about it. But now that I think about it, I dunno if I really want to go and be humiliated on the pitcher's mound like I was last year."
"You kiddin'?" Randy said with a grin. "You're a helluva lot better first baseman than I could ever be, and you're a pretty good relief pitcher too. And besides, with all the new kids that'll be on the team this year, I wanna be sure I got at least one friend on the team. We got a good chance at the city title this year if some of those new kids are half as good as they seem to think they are."
"Well I'll be there," Tim promised. "We can talk it all over afterwards in your tree house."
"That's a date," Randy promised as the bell rang and the boys separated, each headed for their first class.

A date! Tim thought to himself as he rushed for class. God, if you only knew, Randy! Randy didn't know how Tim felt of course, because as usual Tim didn't have to courage to tell him for fear of being rejected. Like most of the friends Tim had been intimate with, if mutual jerkoff sessions can be called being intimate, it seemed Randy's interest in sexual things was limited to proving one's manhood to other boys by a display of how quickly and with how much force he could shoot his load. Tim's mind wandered back to that first time in the tree house and how suddenly and unexpectedly it had come about. As he remembered, he unconsciously slid his hand into his pocked and began to fondle himself.

* * *

It had happened just about a year ago. Tim and Randy had a few classes together, but other than a nodding acquaintance they really didn't know each other. There were baseball tryouts, and Tim had been hoping against all hope that he could land the pitcher's position, even though he knew he wasn't as good a pitcher as he was on first base. At tryouts, however, this kid Randy had totally blown them all away with his pitching ability, and Tim didn't ever have a chance! That was ok with Tim though, because Randy had blown him away in other ways as well. The boys had arrived on the ball field in their usual gym attire: white shorts and T-shirts, white socks and their baseball cleats. Tim had noticed instantly how incredibly gorgeous his competitor was, and when it was obvious that he had secured the position with little trouble, Tim had been first in line to congratulate him! They had become instant friends.

After tryouts, Tim and Randy walked together. There were no invitations, no preliminaries; they just started walking together towards home, which happened to be in the same direction. They talked about this year's team and how they thought they had a pretty good lineup. They discussed how they both had started in baseball, and discovered to their mutual amazement that they had both been on the same T-ball team as little six year old's. Neither had noticed the other at that time, but that had been another time, another place.

"Do you have to go home right away?" Randy said as Tim began to turn a corner and bid farewell.
"Not really," Tim replied. "It's still only 4:30, and my parents don't get home till six or so."
"Latch key kid, huh?" Randy had said.
"Yeah, something like that," Tim replied wistfully. "I've been kinda on my own since I was 12 or 13. My folks have their lives, I have mine." That was really an unfair comment because his parents did indeed take an active interest in their two sons; but they were indeed very busy with their jobs, their various social activities.
"I know what you mean," Randy said. "Anyway, if you like, I'd like to show you the tree house I built last summer. It's really cool! I even sleep out there sometimes in the summer."
"Really? Your folks don't mind?"
"Nahhh. I guess my folks are kinda like yours. They're just as pleased if I stay outta their face so they can do their own thing. Wanna see it?"
"Sure!" Tim replied. His fantasies were going totally wild! Maybe he would even get an invitation to sleep in it with Randy! And then his fantasies really did go ballistic!

Randy's tree house was truly impressive. He had a rope ladder, which he had rigged up with a hidden rope and pulley arrangement so he could raise the ladder from the ground with a rope which he then hid behind a group of leaves, so that if someone didn't know it was there, it would be very difficult to find. The house was built in a gigantic oak tree, and was solid enough to live in, at least in Tim's mind. Randy had fashioned a sort of couch/bed out of old blankets and cushions, he had a small table upon which sat a battery radio. There was a rather large wooden box with a padlock on it, and a huge picnic cooler in one corner. "This is too cool!" Tim exclaimed excitedly. "You built this yourself?"
"Uh-huh," Randy said proudly. "My dad bought me the lumber and helped me design it, but I did all the work. But you ain't seen nothin' yet! Wait'll ya see what's in that locked box!"

Tim was indeed curious about what was in the box. But when the lid opened, his heart sank to his toes. Inside were dozens of Playboy magazines. He had been hoping for something a little more male oriented, but even so it wasn't long before magazines were opened and two fifteen year old penises were exposed, hard, and being stroked. Tim never told Randy, nor anyone else for that matter, that it was the naked men about to mount the naked women that really turned him on. He hoped somewhere in the back of his mind that sooner or later Randy would admit that his attraction was the same, but Randy never did. He longed to see, touch, feel the body that was attached to the gorgeous cut cock that Randy was stroking, but he had never got the chance. It never once occurred to the extremely horny teen that Randy's position, his thinking, might be exactly the same. Neither boy, it seemed, was willing to take the chance that his interest was anything but the activity that was considered by their peers to be more or less normal: to beat off together.

Tim visited Randy's tree house several times, and every time he left some of his seed on the board floor. Every single time he wanted so much more, but it never happened. As the school year drew to a close, both boys joined a city league and played baseball all summer; but they were on different teams so their paths hadn't crossed very much. When school reopened in the fall, their junior year, Tim learned that Randy had gone out for football, a sport in which Tim had little interest, didn't even really understand. Now it was baseball season again, and Randy had sought him out! Randy seemed anxious to resume their tree house play and Tim, having spent the entire winter involved with solitary sex or jerking off with Larry, was more than ready!

* * *

Tim didn't do very well in school that day. No less than three times he had to be shouted at in class because his mind was ten thousand miles away. First time it was with Eric in.... well, wherever Eric lived... in Eric's house lying on a table under anaesthetic, having surgery. The second reverie found Tim in a tree house not a mile from school, very much engaged in a very hot sex session with his teen idol Randy. In Tim's mind, the tree house had a lot more to offer than sitting across the small room and watching Randy beat his meat as Randy watched him do the same. This time, in Tim's raging fantasies, Randy had admitted that he had been attracted to Tim, had wanted him to go all the way since the day they'd met! And now they were doing it. ‘All the way' meant to Tim that they would suck each other to orgasm, and after that they would engage in a 69, both reaching their incredible orgasm at precisely the same moment.

The third time Tim was caught daydreaming, his mind had taken him back to when he was 14, and without doubt the most devastating event in his still very young life!

* * *

Tim had just been promoted to Patrol Leader in his Boy Scout troop, and he was so proud he was busting at the seams! He and Larry had always competed for every merit badge, every honor. Now Tim had been first to be made Patrol Leader! He literally ran all the way home, simply could not wait to tell his dad that he, Timothy Chandler, was a Patrol Leader! He knew this would impress his dad, and things would change around home. Not that his dad had ever said or done anything to discourage him, he hadn't done anything at all! It was as if Tim and his father lived on different planets as far as Tim's scouting career was concerned. Now Tim had an achievement that he could be proud of! And now he had a new resolve: Now that he was in a position of authority, the leader responsible for himself and five other boys in the troop, he would forget all that gay stuff that had so obsessed him; now he had a reason, an incentive to live a straight life, because that's what Boy Scouts was all about, wasn't it?

"That's good, Tim," his dad said neutrally when Tim ran into the house, literally screaming the good news. Unfortunately his dad was very preoccupied with a problem he'd been having at work that day, and his mother was downright irritable.

"Tim, do you have to make so much noise?" his mother said. "Your father and I have worked hard all day and we're tired! I think the least you could do is have some consideration for your parents!"
"I'm sorry, Mom," Tim returned. "But I'm..."
"You don't have to tell me, Tim," his mother cut him off. "We're both very proud of you, but we'd be so much more proud if you could only learn that this is our home too, not just yours! If you could just once think of other people and that perhaps their lives are important too! Just stop and think a little, Tim! Think of others, and how others might not be quite as on top of the world as you are!" Tim didn't know it at the time because his parents had always sheltered him far more than he realized, but his mother was having a very rough time at work just then; her tolerance for just about everything was at an all time low by the time she got home, and she still had to prepare dinner! It was one of those times we all have, except for the very fortunate, gone through at one time or another. We as children go through some very important experience that we absolutely must share with our parents, but those ordinarily well meaning parents fail to see the significance of the event.

"I'm sorry, Mom," Tim said, and went to his room to take off his uniform and do his homework. He still would not be discouraged, would not let his parents or anyone else deflate his much needed ego; but a deflation was in the cards for Tim anyway. What his parents' indifference could not do, the Boy Scouts of America had no problem in achieving in very short order. After all, the Boy Scouts are all about achievement, aren't they?

It happened just a month after Tim had been appointed Patrol Leader. The entire troop, at least those who had qualified, were going on a campout. It was early November and could be cold, so only those Scouts who were candidates for their Survivor badge were qualified to go. In Tim's patrol, that meant only him and one other boy: Nathan Seymore. Nathan was almost 13, and far and away Tim's favorite in his patrol, if not in the entire troop! Not only was he a happy and cooperative boy with the same determination to become an Eagle Scout as Tim, but he was absolutely gorgeous! He was small, showing no outward signs that he'd begun puberty. His hair had been long and blonde until he had it cut because the scoutmaster preferred it that way; his ears were tiny and delicate, his piercing eyes bright blue and sparkling. He always had a smile on his face that was absolutely captivating!

Larry was in another patrol and would be sharing a tent with two other boys, but neither Tim nor Larry gave that another thought. That was just the way it worked in this troop: whenever possible the boys stayed with their own patrol whenever they were separated into groups. Larry was envious, as were most of the more senior scouts, but only because young Nathan had already become popular in the troop. He wasn't another goof-off, as so many of the new boys seemed to be.

Nathan had been elated at Tim's promotion. The two of them had already become good friends, with Tim always available and willing to help in any project he was working on. Now both boys were delighted. The tent assignment was to be broken up by patrol as usual, which meant that Nathan and Tim, and no one else, would be sharing a tent. Tim's fantasies went into overdrive before they'd even left; but in reality he had no specific intention of doing anything but viewing this young adonis in the altogether. On this trip, they'd been warned that they would all be required to strip so they could dry their sweaty clothes, a common technique to prevent hypothermia. Scoutmaster Merrit was a firm believer in demonstrating, not just telling, whenever possible. His purpose in this case was to demonstrate to the boys that they could indeed be stark naked in temperatures down around 20 degrees Fahrenheit and still remain comfortable, as long as they kept moving and didn't stray far from the fire for very long.

When the tents were up and camp made, fires blazing, the boys were ordered to give all their spare clothing to the scoutmaster and then strip. "Everything?" one boy asked incredulously as he surveyed the white frost on the ground.
"Everything!" Mr. Merrit confirmed. "You may put your sneakers back on after you have your socks off because you'll be gathering firewood for the night while your clothes dry by your fire. We've discussed this many times, Morgan, so it should come as no surprise."
"But it's cold out!" another boy complained.
"Precisely! That's why it's so important for you to be as dry as possible once you crawl into your sleeping bags. While your clothes are drying by the fire, any sweat on your bodies will dry while you're gathering wood, so don't let me catch anyone hanging around by the fire. I'll be watching you closely so you'll be in no danger."

"No danger from freezing," Tim muttered good-naturedly to Nathan, "but what about danger from bein' jumped by a horny scoutmaster once we all get naked?" Nathan thought that was the funniest thing he'd heard all year, and he totally lost it, screaming with laughter.
"What's so funny, Seymore?" the scoutmaster inquired.
"Nothing, sir," the gasping boy managed. "It just kinda struck me funny, us bein' naked in the middle of winter."
"Well, you're not naked yet. Now get to it!"

Tim was surprised to notice as the clothes came off that Nathan's tiny penis wasn't circumcised, nor was there any sign of pubic hair around it. For the first time since his own circumcision Tim was envious. He thought to himself that if he had looked nearly as cute "down there" as Nathan did, he had indeed lost something special. Nathan seemed equally surprised at Tim's bush of thick dark brown hair. There wasn't nearly as much of it then as there would be in the future, but it was still far advanced compared to Nathan's, and the younger boy was suitably impressed.

For the next half hour or so the ten boys romped about the campsite wearing nothing but unlaced sneakers, gathering dead limbs and branches, anything they could find that would burn. They had hung all their clothes close to the fire on makeshift racks they'd made from some of their firewood, and all were pleasantly surprised at how comfortable they actually were. "Make no mistake," the scoutmaster reminded them. "This is a temporary thing. Spend too long without clothes in this weather and you really would be in trouble. But for a few minutes while your clothes dry thoroughly, you can function quite well on your body heat which is probably above normal anyway after that three mile hike."

Once the firewood was gathered and the clothes deemed completely dry, the boys were instructed to put their underwear and socks back on, then pile the rest of their clothes neatly in their tent, which of course they already knew how to do. That done, everyone was told to go to bed. "We'll be getting up at sunrise," the scoutmaster told them, "so I suggest you get some sleep. In other words, don't spend half the night talking and joking."

Once in their tent, Tim suggested that they share one sleeping bag for warmth. The boys had not been instructed to do so, but Tim remembered that his manual had suggested such a thing as long as both participants felt comfortable with the idea. Nathan did indeed feel comfortable, in fact almost anxious Tim thought, so the two boys were soon nestled together and getting comfortable with the unused sleeping bag on top of them.

"I hope you don't mind me sayin," Nathan whispered as they started to settle down, "but you got a lot more hair... er... you know, down there, than I thought you'd have."
"I guess so," Tim replied. "I guess I started the change a little earlier than some kids."
"Yeah," Nathan said. "I'm gettin' tired of waiting. I don't think I'm ever gonna change."
"You will," Tim assured him. "You're only 12.Actually for what it's worth, I kinda wish I still looked like that down there. I mean, you know, not bein' circumcised and all."
"You used to look like me?"
"Uh-huh. I got an infection when I was 8 an' they had to cut the skin off. I kinda wish I still had it, in a way. Actually, I was wonderin'... I mean, if you're ok with it, could I... could I have a closer look?"
"Yeah," Nathan said readily, "long as I can have a closer look at you." It was almost as if he WANTED to be inspected, but Tim didn't think of that. All that was in his head at that moment was getting a closer look at his good looking young friend.

"You wanna go first?" Tim offered. Nathan did, so he grabbed a flashlight and hunkered down in the sleeping bag as Tim slipped his briefs down. Tim watched as his younger friend regarded his equipment, an expression that could only be described as awe on his face. Tim could feel himself getting hard. Without asking Nathan placed two fingers on the growing member, causing Tim to shudder. Nathan snapped his hand away. "It's ok," Tim whispered. "It just feels... well, it feels good!" Nathan touched it again, than wrapped his fingers around it. Before long he had inspected in minute detail every square inch of Tim's pubic area.

"Ok, your turn," the smiling boy said as his head emerged again from the sleeping bag. Tim didn't have to be told twice. His erection was painful now as he wondered how he was going to get off, which was now a necessity, with another boy so close. But for now that objective was secondary. He slid down to his objective and immediately noticed that it was as hard as his own, the tiny pink head still completely covered by the ample foreskin that enveloped it. He touched it, then grasped it as he felt a shiver pass through Nathan's body. He carefully, tenderly pushed the skin back. "That hurt?" he whispered when he heard Nathan gasp.
"Uh-uh," Nathan whispered. "Feels incredible!" Tim continued until the little head was fully exposed. It was so totally beautiful! Nathan had obviously been taught much better than Tim about keeping it clean. There was an unmistakable odor as the tiny head was exposed, but it wasn't objectionable; in fact the smell wafted into Tim's nostrils and turned him on more than anything else he had ever experienced! There was no sign of any deposits or infection, none of the white stuff he had often seen on his own tool before he'd been cut. He fingered it, avoiding the head because he remembered how very sensitive it was.

"Anyone ever suck it for you?" he asked.
"No," Nathan replied. "No one has ever even touched it before, ‘cept the doctor."
"You want me to?"
"Isn't it kinda dirty?"
"Not at all! You keep it really clean, Nathan. I'd love to suck it if you want me to."
"You ever done it before?"
"No, but I've always wondered what it was like."
"I don't think I can do it to you."
"It's ok, I don't mind. Want me to?"
"If you want to."

Tim did indeed want to. There was the pure animal lust that drove him without reason to want this little prick in his mouth more than he'd ever wanted anything, and there was also the curiosity that wondered if there would be any emission. It was so tiny, the balls under it even more minuscule he didn't think so; but he had to find out. But it was something else that drove Tim, something he didn't yet understand. This cute little blonde haired blue eyed boy had affected Tim so profoundly, he was literally not responsible for his actions at that moment. So in case Nathan changed his mind, Tim wasted no time engulfing the little cock in his mouth. It tasted so much better than he'd imagined! He licked it, savored it. He pulled the voluminous sheath that protected it back down over the head with his lips, then retracted it again. Nathan was writhing and moaning softly, involuntarily showing his appreciation for the sensations he was feeling. Each of his moans, every expression of pleasure, drove Tim to try harder to pleasure him.

It took an astonishingly short amount of time for Tim to feel Nathan's body grow rigid and begin to shudder, the little cocklet in his mouth to swell ever so slightly. The orgasm was completely dry, but none the less profound for Nathan. Just as the bone rattling dry cum began was the precise instant that Scoutmaster Merrit chose to check in on his supposedly sleeping boys.

What Merrit saw was one boy's head, Nathan's, exposed above the sleeping bag. His eyes were clamped tightly shut, his mouth open, in complete ecstacy. There was a lump halfway down the sleeping bag about the size of a boy's head, and the lump was rising and falling rhythmically. There was also the faint glow of a light, enough to know that there was a flashlight in that sleeping bag as well. He stood and watched for a moment to be sure of what he'd seen, then quietly closed the tent flap and moved on to the next tent.

The next two days went off without incident. Much to Tim's disappointment there was no repeat performance of the first night's activity, although Nathan assured him that he had enjoyed it immensely. All the boys worked hard, and they all learned a lot. Among other things, they learned that there was a lot more to surviving in the wilderness in winter than they'd realized. They spent every waking moment of every day, it seemed, just surviving. There was firewood to gather and cut; frozen food to thaw. There were the usual camp maintenance duties to be carried out, and fresh water to be collected. They all became closer on that trip, especially Nathan and Tim. And perhaps most important, they all passed their survival merit badge. Now Tim and Larry were only three achievements away from Eagle Scout!

"Chandler, can you come an hour early Wednesday night?" the scoutmaster said as the van pulled into the church yard where the boys were all to disembark. "I need to talk to you before the meeting."
"Yes, sir," Time replied happily. He was elated that the scoutmaster wanted to speak to him, a Patrol Leader. Such incidents were not uncommon, and Tim had been reminded once again that he had special status that brought with it special responsibility. He had to walk the twelve blocks home, but that was no hardship; Tim was used to it.

Wednesday night, long before even Tim was to arrive, Scoutmaster Merrit sat in the tiny room that served as his office on Wednesday nights. His head was in his hands, and he was agonizing over what he was about to do. It was at times like this that he hated his job as scoutmaster, hated the organization that he served and had done so for twenty years. He loved these boys, every last one of them! He felt responsible for them, and much against every piece of good advice he had ever received, was emotionally involved with every one of them!

Before he was anywhere near ready, there was a light tap on his door. He invited the knocker to enter, and in walked Tim Chandler. As usual, his uniform was immaculate. It was freshly washed and pressed as it always was, and Steve Merrit knew that Tim had done it himself. His hair was manicured perfectly, as were his fingernails. In spite of the cold Tim was wearing his shorts, which for reasons no one seemed to understand were considered by him to be dressier than the long's. Scoutmaster Merrit knew though, because he'd asked Tim about it. Tim had replied that the long pants simply didn't take and hold a press as well as the shorts, and it was unthinkable to Tim to appear at a scout meeting looking less than perfect.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Tim said as he stood almost mechanically at full attention. He was so incredibly handsome the scoutmaster had to fight back a tear. He had the usual slight smile on his face - a smile that was strangely erotic, but Steve Merrit knew that was not Tim's intent. He knew that the boy was just so incredibly happy to be here, to be excelling in something, to be dressed immaculately in his Scout uniform with its impressive array of badges, that he could not have wiped that smile off even if ordered!

"I saw what you and Nathan were doing in the tent," Soutmaster Merrit said when he had told Tim to stand easy. "I must say, Tim, I'm very disappointed in you. I never in my wildest dreams expected something like that from you." That was another thing about Steve Merrit: he certainly believed in getting right to the point.
"You... you saw? You saw what?" Tim stuttered his defense.
"You know very well what I'm talking about," the scoutmaster said, his annoyance very clear in his tone.
"I'm sorry,sir," was all that Tim could think of to say. "I swear, I didn't plan it. It just sorta happened."

"It really doesn't matter how it happened. The important thing is that it did! And I'm afraid we're gonna have to deal with it. You know as well as I do that the Boy Scouts of America feels very strongly about such things! Tim, I'm so very disappointed in you! I had every reason to believe that you'd be an Eagle Scout by the end of this season! But now..."
"Yes, sir, I know," Tim said as he felt a wave of panic course through his body. "What are you gonna do?" Tim was well aware, as was anyone else even remotely associated with Scouting that there had been law suits, public declarations, outcries over BSA's stand on homosexuality. Officially the policy didn't really deal with gay scouters, but scout leaders were very definitely a closed group that did not allow gay men in their numbers. Scoutmaster Merrit was a good scoutmaster, perhaps one of the best. He was kind and fair, had a sense of humor, could even become a boy himself and join in whatever play was going on; but at the same time he was strict and demanding. Tim knew that as Patrol Leader, even though it was to a great extent an honorary position, he would be held to the same standards by Mr. Merrit as any other leader, no matter their age.

"The way I see it we have two options," Mr. Merrit answered. "By rights what I'm supposed to do is to bring you and Nathan both before a Court of Honor. We can do that if that is your wish because it is your right. But in deference to your past performance, what an outstanding and faithful Scout you've always been, I'd like to offer you an option. I presume you're not really anxious to go before the Court of Honor?"

Tim shook his head. The Court of Honor, a committee of Scouts he himself had sat on many times, is a disciplinary court of a boy's peers. Their duty is to hear the case presented, give the boy a chance to defend himself, and then mete out whatever punishment they deem fit. Tim knew his fellow Scouts well enough to know what that punishment would be: He would be kicked out of the troop for starters, which of course meant that a letter would be sent to his parents indicating the action taken and the reason. In addition, he would be publicly stripped of his rank and uniform (figuratively speaking) in front of the entire troop, which would more than likely result in more than a few beatings, both verbal and physical, after the meeting. Even worse, Nathan would undoubtedly receive the same treatment.

"The other option," Mr. Merrit continued, "is that you simply stop coming. This is very unfair and I hate to even offer in a way, but I suspect the outcome would be the same either way, only this way you would be spared the embarrassment of the entire troop, plus your parents, finding out. I assume they don't know you're gay?"
Again Tim shook his head. "No, sir," he added, remembering his manners. He still hadn't really concluded once and for all that he was gay, but he knew the evidence was clear and there would be no convincing Scoutmaster Merrit. Even Tim himself was hard pressed to deny his sexuality.

"If you choose to take the second option, the matter will go no further. If anyone should ask, my reply will simply be that you must have lost interest. It happens all the time and no one will question it. If you choose to start again at another troop I won't stand in your way; but of course your merit badges would not be transferrable. But before you choose, let me repeat that you have the right to be heard by the Court of Honor. Should you choose to do so I will make the arrangements. If you want to take a week or two to think about it, that's ok too."
"What's gonna happen to Nathan?" Tim asked.
"That, son, is none of your concern. Suffice to say he will be dealt with in an appropriate manner. You being the older, and in position of authority over him, must take the brunt of the blame; but I realize there had to be some cooperation and I will act accordingly. And as long as I have any influence over him, I'll be needing your promise that you will have no further contact with him. If you so much as talk to him on the telephone and I find out about it, there will be a Court of Honor whether you want it or not."
"Ok, sir, I'll leave now," Tim said almost in a whisper as he felt the tears burning his eyes. "But please, sir, don't punish Nathan. He's going to make a great scout, and he didn't do anything except what I talked him into. He had already made it very clear that he wasn't gonna do the same thing to me."

"Very well," the scoutmaster said. It wasn't until later that Tim realized his leader never did respond to his plea for Nathan. "Please stand up." Tim did. The scoutmaster stood and faced him, then slowly, reluctantly, loosened the neckerchief on the crying boy's neck and pulled it off over his head. "I put this neckerchief on you proudly and with a great deal of pleasure," he muttered almost to himself. "I take no pleasure in removing it. Take good care of yourself, Tim, and try and get some help. Homosexuality can be cured, you know." In spite of his distress, his extreme depression at that moment, Tim felt his erection rising as the neckerchief he'd loved so much, respected above all else, was pulled off his neck forever. He didn't look down because he already knew what he would see, and right now he didn't want to give his cock the satisfaction of being seen in its fully erect position through his shorts.

"Thank you, sir," Tim barely managed to say. He snapped to attention and saluted his scoutmaster for the last time, using the three-finger Scout salute. The scoutmaster returned the salute, and Tim left the small room. The other boys were just starting to arrive, so Tim ducked out of sight until the coast was clear, then left the building. His scouting career was over.

Tim knew his phone would be ringing seconds after Larry got home, and he wasn't disappointed. He and Larry usually walked to the meetings together, but tonight he had told his friend that the Scoutmaster wanted to speak to him so he was going early. "What happened to you tonight?" Larry demanded when Tim answered the phone. "You said you were going early, then you didn't show up at all!"
"I'll tell you at school tomorrow," Tim said. He knew he wouldn't be able to tell the story tonight without crying, and he didn't really want to discuss the whole thing tonight on the phone anyway. Larry heard the breaking of Tim's voice and let it go, talking instead of what had gone on in the meeting. When Tim asked about Nathan, Larry replied that he had been at the meeting, but that the Scoutmaster had asked him to stay after. A cold chill ran down Tim's spine.

When Tim told Larry about it the next day, Larry was furious. "Merrit kicked you out, just ‘cause you and Nathan were messing around? He can't do that, Tim!"
"I know he can't," Tim said. "He knows it too, but he wanted to save me from being embarrassed by holding a Court of Honor. He thinks I'm gay, Larry."
"That's crazy!" Larry said haughtily. "You call the Court of Honor! He can't do that on his own!"
"Yeah, right! So I call a Court of Honor and complain about bein' kicked off the troop just ‘cause I sucked off another scout. What then, Larry? What other great ideas you got for me? Didn't you hear what I said? He thinks I'm queer!"

Larry studied Tim's face very carefully, his head cocked to one side in a way that Tim usually found very cute. Today somehow it didn't look cute at all! "Are you, Tim?" he said finally. "Are you gay?"

The shock of being asked the question, straight up, hit Tim in the chest as if he'd been punched by a champion boxer. But suddenly he saw his chance. All he had to do was answer, and he would have taken the first step in coming out. Tim wanted to come out! He wanted so badly to share his secret with someone because that secret was getting to be a pretty heavy burden. Who better than his best friend ever? Larry wouldn't reject him! Or would he? If he did, then perhaps he wasn't as good a friend as Tim always thought he was. But at that moment Tim wasn't prepared to take the chance, so he waffled. "I don't know, Larry," he answered. "Sometimes I think I might be, but I just don't know."

Tim was hoping at that point that Larry would assure him that they'd be friends no matter what, but Larry didn't say anything at all. He didn't offer an opinion, made no statement of his own sexuality. In truth, he was afraid to say the wrong thing, or perhaps he feared revealing something about himself that he wasn't yet ready for, so he kept silent. But he did express his support for Tim in a way that Tim wasn't prepared for. "I'm quittin' Scouts too," he said resolutely. Tim could see the tear in his friend's eye as he said it.
"You can't do that, Larry," he protested. "You love Scouts!"
"So do you," Larry answered, his voice breaking. "But if you're not good enough for them, then neither am I."
"Please, Larry, don't do that because of me. Please?"
"I can't think of a better reason, Tim. I'm gonna go see Merritt next week, an' I'll tell him I'm leaving and I'll tell him why. If he won't reconsider, then he's kicked two boys out, not one."

Steve Merritt didn't reconsider, so he was called upon to perform the same impromptu neckerchief removing ceremony on Larry. He had asked Larry point blank if he thought Tim was gay, and Larry had responded that he didn't know, nor would he tell anyone if he did. He had then asked if Larry and Tim had ever done anything of a homosexual nature, and Larry had replied that they'd done nothing that all boys don't do. He would give no more details, stating simply that it was none of anyone's business. Merritt had pointed out that Tim's leaving had left a Patrol Leader vacancy and that Larry was up for the promotion, and that pissed Larry off big time. "Do you really think I could do that?" he said angrily. "You kick my best friend out of the troop, and you expect me to take his position? Just do me a favor and get this over with, before I say some things I'll regret." And so another scouting career was over, and another tearful boy left one of the activities he loved forever.

* * *

When the teacher finally managed to snap Tim out of his memory induced trance, Tim had no idea what had been discussed or even where he was. "Where in the world have you been, Tim?" the teacher asked sarcastically. "Perhaps next time you take a trip out of the world like that, you might want to invite the rest of us! It's obviously much better where you've been than anything I have to offer in History class!" Of course everyone in the class laughed as Tim's face got redder and redder.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," Tim offered weakly, "I don't know what happened."
"I don't know either," Miss Mason said sternly. "I do however need to make sure it doesn't happen again. I see here that you have already earned yourself two detentions today."
"Yes, ma'am," Tim replied. "I guess this isn't one of my better days." Again the class broke into laughter, which further annoyed Miss Mason.
"The other two detentions have been deferred," she said as she again checked her clipboard. "I guess that leaves you free to join me tonight after school."
"Ma'am, the detentions were deferred because tonight's baseball tryouts. If you could possibly see your way clear to..."
"Your school work is far more important than playing games, mister!" Miss Mason shot back. "You will report to me right here after your last class. Is that perfectly clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," Tim replied. Ok, that was it! Tim knew without a doubt that someone else would get the first base position, and if he made the team at all he would spend the season on the bench! He knew that nothing annoyed Coach more than someone not caring enough about the team to fail to show up for tryouts. Now his baseball career was over! Tim resolved then and there, his cock had got him into trouble for the last time! Even now, as he decided once and for all it had to go, he felt his erection growing and he began to think of a way to relieve it between classes.

This was a mental game Tim always played. It somehow felt better and more rational if he had a reason for wanting his penis gone, so the thing on his body he loved the most took the blame for just about everything in his life that was unpleasant. He knew it wasn't true, but he had no idea of the real reason he felt so driven to have his cock off. Today was just another example. As he sat in class, his cock aching for relief, he knew deep down that he was relieved that he would not be on the baseball team; that would leave him much more time to himself for his all time favorite activity: jerking off.

Next: III Eric Shares His Plan