I did a quick lap around the store before heading back to the front, straightening papers, wiping down the shiny glass surfaces. It took a lot of work to keep this place looking like the future. When I returned to the front, my first appointment had arrived. Two tall, severe women flanked a little boy in a dress. The women wore little makeup and the little one had dark streams of eyeliner running down his cheeks. “Look at this cutie,” I exclaimed. “What a lovely little gurl!”
“What do you say, Benji?” prompted the taller of the two women.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, awkwardly pulling at the short purple dress. It draped beautifully from his shoulders down his model-skinny frame, but tented awkwardly where his boy parts protruded. No amount of readjustment could hide that.
“So, are you the Stromber party?” I asked.
“Yes,” was all I got.
“And it looks like you’re here for an initial fitting. How exciting!” I leaned down to get a good look at the boy. His cheeks had some glitter too, and there was an outline indicative of lipstick licked off. “Have your mommies explained why you’re here?”
“We’re sisters,” corrected the shorter of the women, who, I should note, was nearly as tall and every bit as boney as her sister. They both looked sharp as broken glass where their bones met their flesh. Not the sort you would want to cuddle, which is a shame since cuddling is the greatest sensation in the world. Danielle would be getting home soon, curling up in the easy chair with a bottle of wine. I hoped she’d make dinner before I got home. Wonderful, cuddly Danielle.
“Only one mommy, then?” I asked.
“I’m Lana, I’m his mother. But Tina helps me raise him but he calls her aunt.”
“Well, Benji,” I asked, “do you know why you’re here?”
“It’s cause I was bad. I’m being punished,” he said with all the injustice of the world dripping from his tongue.
“Lying boy,” hissed Tina. “We gave you all the chances we could. More than I wanted to.” She was starting to remind me of my mother.
“I didn’t wear my dresses enough and I didn’t do my makeup, so now I have to be a boy instead of a gurl,” he whined.
Lana talked over him, “We gave him a chance to be a gurl like his donor-sire, but he wouldn’t behave himself like a gurl, so now he has to be a boy. We warned you, we threatened you, but nothing could got through, did it. So now you get to see the results of your decision. You’re going to be a boy.”
Benji was bright red. No doubt the embarrassment and frustration were getting to him. It was no way to start a life as a full-grown boy. Every boy should start his servitude under happy circumstances, so he feels love towards his keepers and not resentment. That wasn’t BoyWorks policy; it’s just empathy and humanity. “Hey, buddy,” I told him, “it’s really not a punishment. You’ll see. Being a slave has benefits you probably can’t even imagine right now. I’ll show you. Being a boy can be lots of fun. Come on, let’s get started in one of the private rooms.”
I walked them to the back rooms. On the way, he was staring the display cages and when he looked back up at me, there were fresh tears in his eyes. “It’s not so bad in the cages,” I told him. “We let them out every day and give them lots of kisses. You like kisses, don’t you?” He didn’t smile, but he looked a little less sick
And of course Kristy didn’t have the welcome room set up. Typical. What was the point of that girl? The welcome room was supposed to be full of balloons and banners like a birthday party. Instead it was just a bare meeting room, like some kind of business meeting. “This chair is for the big boy,” I announced, pulling out a random, undecorated chair. At least the computer and projector stayed in the room at all times so Kristy couldn’t fuck that up too. “Let’s start with a short video, shall we?”
The video started with a woman in a lab coat in front of a door. “Oh, hi there,” she started. “Today is a very exciting day for you. It is the first day of your new life.” The camera pulled back to show the front of a brick building with blue awnings. “With the help of BoyWorks Technology Labs, we make sure that every boy works. And works right. Come on, let’s go inside.” The gear-and-man BoyWorks logo filled the screen for a few seconds, and the woman now stood with another woman in a lab coat. They both held clipboards. “I’m here at BoyWorks Labs with our head behaviorist, Amy Grant. Amy, what can you tell us about boy behavior.”
“Thanks, Holly,” she said brusquely. “Boys have been around since the dawn of womankind, but they only started reaching their full potential in the last few decades. Why is that? When the demographic revolution of the 21st century happened, there were few laws and institutions that dealt directly with the problem of boys. In fact, boys nearly became extinct before modern science even recognized that there was a problem.” The video changed to a series of panned still images of cities in riot, women with batons and men crying. “Boys were regarded as a lesser community due to their aggression and short-sighted behavior. Often isolated to ghettos of cities, they were angry and scared. New technology and economies had all but obsoleted their very existence. If nothing was done, scientists predicted the end of the human race.”
Now the music shifted and images of little boys in pink dresses and adult gurls at shops. “But not only did we avoid distinction, we started a revolution. Angela Vikis, philanthropist and activist, started the BoyWorks foundation. Her foundation, along with the efforts of President Lange and several hard-working congresswomen, the BoyWorks program started pulling young boys out of male enclaves and situating them with loving homes. It was a huge success! Not only was crime and violence entirely eradicated in the rehabilitated boys, but how women felt about boys changed too. They were no longer seen as dangerous outsiders; now they were cute pets and friends. Before long, women were choosing to give birth to boys. Just look at the progress we’ve made in just fifty years.”
The video showed happy, running boys, playing in parks as their mothers watch on. It showed soda shops with pre-teen boys laughing. There were boy nurses and boy maids, and even a boy firewoman. Finally it settled on the wrinkled smile of Sandra Vikis, who had laid on the makeup but still looked her age. “Hi, I’m Sandra Vikis,” she said, “chairwoman of the BoyWorks comission, CEO of BoyWorks Technology, the daughter of Angela Vikis, and most importantly, boykeeper of fifty years. When my mother started this movement fifty years ago, she wanted to see a happy boy in every home. I am happy to say that we are almost there, and by entering the BoyWorks program, you are helping us get one step closer to that dream.”
The image of Sanda’s talking head dissolved into a sunset and the music played that annoying trill that got stuck in everyone’s head. I felt sure I would hear it in my dreams. Troodle-i-doodle-i-doodle.
Now we were back in the lab with Holly and Amy. The stuffy-looking scientist picked up the story. “Which brings us to today. Boy science has come a long way in the last fifty years, and we are proud to have remained the leader in the area. We started with the assumption that males were primarily controlled by their penises. In fact, fifteen years into the project, we ran a study that found that males’ brains respond to penis stimulation more than the other way around. This staggering insight led to the behavior system that is still the basis of all BoyWorks technology. It all starts with a little help from our friend, the chastity enforcer.”
We were treated to a little cartoon. The cartoon boy was all pink, like a newborn. He smiled as a cartoon chastity device appeared and fastened over his penis. “Chastity enforcemet is the first step towards training your boy. By allowing reward in the form of release time, and enforcing punishment through longer durations of lockdown, a boy’s behavior can we modified to fit any number of BoyWorks approved profiles. As these change all the time, your BoyWorks representative can explain which behavior models are available.” Everyone looked at me and I smiled. Benji was crying again, but was keeping it quiet. “Even more effective is the BoyLock Plus line of chastity enforcers. By surgically implanting various electrodes into the penis and prostate gland, we are able to directly control behavior-modifying chemicals right at the source.” The cartoon boy didn’t look happy when the pain signal turned his crotch into a glowing red area. “Ask your representative about upgrading to BoyLock Plus today.”
Holly was outside of the building again, walking toward the camera. “Well, that was a fascinating look into the mysterious inner-workings of BoyWorks Labs. I hope you learned as much as I did, and I’ll see you again in other BoyWorks behavioral modification videos. Until then, stay safe and enjoy your newly locked boy. It’s the start of a wonderful new relationship.” The music swelled and the screen went black.
I’d heard the presentation enough times I could recite it backwards and forwards. Still, sitting through it was nicer than having to actually recite it each time. I turned the lights on in the room. Benji’s mommies were smiling at each other broadly and Benji stared at them scared. “This boy is a real cutie, you know that?” I asked them. I wondered what he would look like without front teeth. Probably fine. He looked like a born licker. “Don’t be scared, little buddy,” I told him in a low whisper, “No one is going to hurt you. These enforcers are designed to make boys happy as well as girls. No one is going to make you do anything you don’t want to. Consent is very important to the whole process.”
“Now I’m going to leave you three with an enforcer, a key, and a list of personality profiles. This is just a demo enforcer, so don’t worry about putting it on him. It’s just to look at.”
The mother shook her head. “We don’t need the profiles actually. We just needed to get him fitted and maybe some pamphlets on home training.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, “that’s fine too. I would like the two of you to at least look over the profiles too. Even if you decide to train him yourselves, it’s worthwhile to know what sort of goal you have in mind.”
The aunt wanted to know, “Do we just pick one of these?”
I nodded as I gave her the sheet. “It’s best to start with one. You can go all the way up to the fifth tier of training on any or every profile. It’s only tiers six and seven that cause irreversible changes. That’s usually reserved for boys entering the market. Or are you planning on selling him?”
The aunt answered, “We haven’t decided yet,” and shot a long look at her sister.
The list covered all the major categories of boys: maids, cooks, butlers, masseuses, pedicurists, lickers, screamers, fuck-dolls (for women who like that hole-on-pole action), puppies, and even suckers for the few boy-owning gurls.
I left them to discuss, smiling as I closed the door. I just loved initiating new boys. It made all the hours of cleaning cages almost worth it. Every boy who went home with a happy family was saved, in my eyes. Saved from the unfortunate blackmarket that didn’t give two hoots about boy wellbeing. It burned me up just to think about. Mistreating poor, little boys—poor, smooth, naked, scared, shaven, beaten, little boys—all alone in this world without anygirl to train and guide them. It really breaks my heart.
I pulled a soda out of the break room fridge and sat in one of the two sad chairs that fit in the cramped room largely used for storage. I took off my cap to let my scalp breathe as I relaxed. The soda tasted cold like ice in summer and sweet as artificially processed corn could taste. When I put it between my legs it felt cool and wet. I was enjoying the quiet when Margot popped in. She wore a pleated khaki skirt instead of the usual pants, long enough to meet regulations, but short enough to show her thick thighs. They were gorgeous. “It’s crazy out there,” I told her.
“Yeah, I guess,” she replied, pulling the door closed behind her. She ducked straight into the attached bathroom. I sipped my soda and listened to her pee.
“What are you doing this weekend?” I asked.
“What’s that?” she asked, cracking open the door.
“What are you doing this weekend. Any plans?”
“Oh,” came Margot’s less-muffled voice. “I dunno, probably hang out with the girls. How about you.”
My heart rose in my chest and a flutter came to my throat but I soldiered on. These sorts of decisions are best made in the spur-of-the-moment, and one must act before reality settles back over you. “I was thinking of seeing a movie. Did you want to come?”
“What?” asked Margo. She flushed and opened the door.
She applied makeup in the mirror as I answered. “I asked if you want to see a movie. I’m going this weekend.”
“Oh,” repeated Margot. She smacked her lips together and made a pouty face. She was almost more beautiful in profile than head on. “You mean just the two of us?”
“Umm… I don’t know. Let me see. I’ll figure out what I’m doing and give you a call, how about that?”
“Yeah,” I said. I don’t know if she remembered that she didn’t have my number. Another swing, another miss. Story of my life.