PEG BOY (24 page)

“If you care
anything for him,” he said pointing to the clinging child, “you’ll do what I
say. I promise that any more trouble from you will mean  you’ll never see each
other again!”

Michael had
taken Kim into his arms and was hushing and soothing him, stroking his hair and
cooing. Santiago was moved by the care and mothering expressed by Michael. He
was drawn to the boy, who was a child in years only. The expression of sadness
in the boy’s eyes told of the pain, fear, and abuse they had suffered. Looking
into those eyes, Santiago felt as though he were looking in a mirror at his own
emotions. He shuddered at the thought of his own face expressing the kind of
turmoil expressed by Michael’s.

“You, boy...” McIntyre
was pointing to him. “I want you to look after these two. I want you to be
a..., er..., older brother” He looked at the Twins. “And you two are to go to
him if you need anything, understand?”

Santiago saw
Michael sneer at him. The look implied that he had no use for him. “Funny...,”
he thought, “You had use for me when I was on the other side of the door. You
could have used me then!”

“But what am I
to do?” Santiago asked McIntyre.

“You know how
we run things around here. You’ve been around for more than a month. Just take
care of things for them. You’re older, you can see that they behave and cause
no trouble. Maybe if you do your job right I’ll let you fuck one of them.”

Santiago
suspected that McIntyre wanted him to spy on the boys and would likely be
called in regularly to answer to questions about them

 “I’m putting
the boys in the room beside yours. They will be your responsibility. Be ready
tonight. We open the door at eight and we have reservations for more than
enough appointments to keep us busy. You give me what
I
want and I’ll
give you what
you
want.”

The
stipulation that without cooperation there would be no drugs was understood by
all. McIntyre had established a system by which a boy could earn time off if he
serviced a quota. Meeting the quota meant that a boy could choose not to work
for a day, the following week. McIntyre provided an adequate kitchen and
special foods were available to those who convinced their clients to buy them
expensive meals. Alcohol was in continuous supply and it flowed freely.
Mariposa the hermaphrodite drank whiskey continuously and was supplied with as
much as he wanted to keep him docile.

Santiago sat
on the bed feeling anxious about the evening to come and of his responsibility
to the brothers. He had tried speaking to them after they had left the salon,
but Michael had rebuked the attempted friendliness with a curt reply that they
could take care of themselves and had been doing so for a long time and that
Santiago could mind his own business.

The door to
the bedroom swung open and one of McIntyre’s men walked in with a small
package.

“The boss sent
this. You’re to share it with them...,” nodding his head in the direction of
the twins’ room.

The package
was wrapped in brown waxed paper. Inside were putty-like cakes about the size
of his thumb. Here was enough
chandoo
to last several days. McIntyre had
given Santiago the means by which he could approach The Twins.

He set about
preparing the substance, looking forward to the pleasant euphoria that would
make the coming evening less difficult.  Santiago took the prepared opium and
went to the boy’s room. Michael opened the door and saw what was in Santiago’s
hand. He stepped aside and let him in. Kim approached, eyes wide at the sight
of the gift.

“Now..., can
we have some now?”

“That’s why I
am here,” Santiago said smiling as he motioned for Michael to bring the lamp to
the table. He held the stylet with the
shandoo
on it over a flame until
it turned into a small ball of roasted opium and handed it to Michael, who
pushed it into the pipe bowl. They did this three times, each passing the pipe
to each other.

Sitting next
to the brothers, their attention distracted by smoking, Santiago was able to
observe them more closely. Michael’s reddish hair was a wiry bush that curled
about his head in ringlets. His freckled face was lean and hard, the nose pugged,
the lips closed tightly when not speaking, were delicate and almost feminine in
their fleshiness and shape. Sitting atop the table with his legs crossed,
Santiago saw the thighs, smooth as silk and could barely discern the shape of a
penis and testicles in the darkness of the space of the opened robe. He saw
that the boys were children barely having reached puberty and remembered when
his own member had seemed so insignificant.

Kim stood by
his brother with an arm on Michael’s leg, head bent, watching the preparations.
The boy’s face looked pale and his eyes were even more sunken than Santiago
remembered. He was sure the boy was ill. Kim, wearing only his underwear,
seemed to be of little more than flesh and bones; a more delicate version of
his brother but the faces were copies of each other so that at some earlier
time they might well have been indistinguishable.

“You know McIntyre
wants me to spy on you and tell him if you start trouble,” he said to Michael
as the boy breathed deeply the smoke from the pipe.

“I know. Are
you?”

“Am I what?”

“Going to
report!”

“He will
expect something.”

“What the hell
does he think I am going to do?”

“Probably talk
to the other boys and cause trouble for him.”

“How the fuck
can I do that? Every one of them is as addicted to this shit and tied to this
place as we are. The only thing they want is what we want..., this!” He held
the pipe out to his brother. “And to this...,” Michael stood, unfastened the
rope around his robe and dropped it. Then he removed the peg that had been up
his ass. It was smaller than Santiago’s, but still large enough to surprise
him.

“You know...,
I am almost used to this artificial cock. Kimmy..., take yours out!”

Michael
unfastened his brother’s girdle and removed the peg and smiled as he held it
out to be seen.

“Kimmy used to
have trouble taking me, for Christ’s sake! Now look what they have him sized
for. Hey little brother...” Michael pulled his brother to him and hugged him
affectionately while demonstrating the considerable peg that had been removed
from his brother’s ass.  “Now you ain’t a good fuck no more..., not for me anyways...,
not until this thing decides to grow,” he said, holding his own penis and
looking at it.

Santiago and
Kim looked at Michael’s cock. It was small but had grown rigid from
stimulation. They laughed. The effect of the drug had taken hold and with
half-closed eyes they giggled as they tossed their wooden dildos at each other.
Santiago’s was much larger than the rest and Michael took it and fondled it.

“When we were
small our mother used to give us the clothes our older brothers didn’t want. We
never got anything new. It was always old and worn. I suppose we’ll be getting
hand-me-down pegs too..., maybe yours will be my next fuck.”

All were
standing naked and the two brothers looked in amazement at Santiago’s flaccid
and pendulous penis, immense in comparison. Their own cocks were still pink and
thin, and without a pubic bush and their testicles were but little sacks. Santiago’s
anatomy was fully blossomed, his cock having taken on the dark shade of full
development. They observed the veins in the penis stand out as the appendage
grew, with its already moistened head beginning to emerge from the generous
foreskin. Santiago’s testicles hung heavy between his legs and were proud
trophies of his prowess.

Kim reached to
touch the awakening giant. His little hand closed around Santiago’s cock and he
found that his fingers could not meet.

“Will I get as
big as this?” he asked Michael, who watched in fascination.

“Hard to
imagine, isn’t it?” Michael said as he took Santiago’s cock in his hand. There
was no trace of the initial animosity that had existed between them. Santiago
knew the opium had done its job. The brothers were getting as excited as he
already was. Santiago had not planned a seduction. Something told him it was a
poor idea. He had never been intimate with a child and he remembered McIntyre’s
edict of not fucking each other. Someone could enter unannounced. There was something
else he wanted to accomplish and a child’s seduction was not it.

Santiago put
on his pants and after preparing another pipe-full, he motioned for the boys to
sit. Warning them of the possibility of someone listening at the door he spoke
in whispers.

“You know it
was me that spoke to you outside the door at the boardinghouse. I did not
desert you. I did look but could find no one who would give me drugs. I wanted
some for myself as well, but found none. McIntyre had me shunned. Not until I
agreed to come here did he allow me to begin earning money again and give me
more of this. I do not want to be the one who answers to McIntyre about you. I
like both of you. I want to help. Believe me when I say that I am not and will
not be an enemy. Are you still going to try escape?”

Michael
stiffened, responding to exactly the question McIntyre would have had Santiago
ask. The friendliness of a moment ago was replaced by a mood of suspicion.

“I know what
you think,” Santiago said. “Do not answer if you think I will be reporting back
to McIntyre. I will not..., but do not answer.”

Kim had gone
to bed and had already begun to fall asleep. Michael sat back on the table-top,
crossed-legged, seemingly unconcerned about his nakedness, trying to keep
Santiago’s face in focus through his drugged stupor.

The room
suddenly was unbearably hot and the shadows of the room’s corners spread about
so that in spite of the lantern’s light, the room grew darker. Santiago felt
the floor becoming unstable as it wavered beneath his feet. His head grew heavy
and his hands became numb. All he wanted was sleep and wondered why he was not
in his own room …, and the face of the boy sitting on the table in front of him
became distorted in the undulating waves of the room’s warmth. Michael’s smiling
face had teeth showing between full lips and the lips were moving and the boy
was speaking but he could hear no sound and he felt that they were separated by
a space that was impenetrable.

Santiago
returned to his room. The door was open. He could barely discern the shape of
someone sitting on his bed. When he came nearer he saw that it was McIntyre.
Santiago stumbled as he crossed the room. Had it been McIntyre’s foot? He heard
a voice demanding answers to questions he had not understood. McIntyre’s hands
toyed with the strings of Santiago’s pants and he stepped out of them when they
fell to the floor, letting himself fall onto the bed, remembering he had left
his peg in the twin’s room..., and the voice grew louder as McIntyre became
angry at seeing the absent harness and device, realizing that one of his rules
had been broken..., and the angry words flowed around him and over him as his
arms became too heavy and his legs seemed detached as he saw the naked man with
lust in his eyes approach and kneel between his raised legs and he saw his own
erection standing at a most peculiar angle and he had a notion to laugh as
somewhere in the miles of space between himself and McIntyre, the man’s rage
dissipated into something else and like an observer in a dream Santiago watched
himself be raped.

The clouds
drifted lazily over the distant hills and somewhere in the distance behind him
he heard an eagle’s cry. He turned and saw it soaring, silhouetted against the
setting sun, its wings spread, tail fanned by an updraft, head and sleek body
aimed sharply downward. The bird sped across the space between earth and sky
and with a sudden shift in direction it shot upward again, smooth like an
arrow, reaching incredible heights, completely unencumbered by any force but
its own wish to break with its earthly bounds to escape forever in the heavens.
Santiago felt the air rushing past his face and over his wings and the pressure
of it against his breast as his sharp eyes saw for miles from horizon to
horizon with the valleys and their ribbon-like streams and rivers and the blue
mirror lakes and the ocean ahead spreading out forever forward; all brilliant
and iridescent. It took so little effort to slightly alter his tail or wingtips
to change the direction and speed of his flight! With the sound of rushing wind
in his ears and the sun’s heat on his face, the beautifully joyous freedom of
this space so filled him that tears came.

His head ached
and every joint in his body was filled with fire. The memory of the dream caused
such a pain in his heart that a depression overcame him, one so crushing that
he could not rise from his bed. Santiago knew he was expected in the parlor but
he had no notion of the time. The thought of having himself served up like a
meal from a bill of fare made his mind seek the escape of the dream but it was
not to be. He knew his absence would be cause for rebuke. His feet did not want
to respond. With effort he raised himself and washed his face at the stand
beside the bed. The ice water made him shiver. He splashed beneath his arms,
soaping them and then rinsing. He did the same between his legs where there
were still traces of McIntyre’s dried semen, trying to clean all the places
that might give the clients objection to his smell. Although some of the men
were fond of the odor of smegma, most were repelled by it. Santiago hated the
thought of being found repulsive so he kept himself very clean, unlike other
boys who had to be threatened with punishment before they would wash. He combed
his hair, now long from not having had it cut they way his father once
insisted. It reached his shoulders in luxurious strands that curled and fell in
waves. He brushed his teeth and took a small clove to chew. The sound of the
piano came from the floor below. The evening had begun.