Quiggs valued this gray slate more than all his award plaques in the dean’s hallway.
“Congratulations, Cadet Quiggs. You are officially registered.” The professor stared at the tented towel. “Nice recovery time. Any questions before we check off your preferences for the clinic?”
“How long before I… um… get to visit the clinic and cut my braid?”
Professor Hines pulled up a chair and whipped a marker out of the deep pocket of his white lab coat. “Your first step is listing what you will agree to do. We shall begin with the most requested act cadets will look for on your slate.”
Oral sex, Quiggs thought.
“Yes or no to oral sex?” Professor Hines asked matter-of-factly.
“Yes.”
“Will you swallow?”
“Not… yet.”
“Perform anal penetration of a partner?”
“Yes!” he shouted. In a meek voice, he added, “I’ll consider anyone.”
“Penetration of your anus?”
“Eventually.” Maybe never, he admitted to himself.
“Frottage?”
“Frottage?” Quiggs frowned. The word sounded unpleasant.
“I forget how sheltered you are from having a private room.” The professor defined frottage.
Sounded good. Quiggs grinned. “Yes to frottage.”
“Pain play?”
Sounded scary. “No.”
“Thigh fucking?
“Huh?”
The professor patiently described the act.
“Oh, yes. I’d like some of that.”
“Advanced nipple play? It seems to be gaining popularity.”
Sounded like ticklish fun. “I’ll try it.”
“Are you sure?” The professor twirled the marker as he described clamps.
Quiggs hunched. “No clamps. Very sure, no clamps.”
“Orgasm denial?
Quiggs leaned forward. “When the vines wither away.”
After Professor Hines stopped laughing, he continued. “Rimming. Perform or receive or both?”
Sex play was more involved than his inventions. “Explain, please.”
The professor enthusiastically explained a personal favorite with his husband.
This was what Blane performed on Colby. Eeewwwwww to performing. However, he had seen how Colby went wild over receiving it. “Receiving,” Quiggs replied.
“Agreeable to toys and fingers rubbing your prostate?”
Quiggs had studied anatomy. “Absolutely no penetration of any kind yet. Except a tongue during rimming.”
Professor Hines twirled the marker. “Quiggs, do you want to lose your braid?”
Quiggs kicked his heels and wagged the tail of his braid at the professor. “As soon as possible.”
“By law, a man must penetrate a partner before he may cut his braid.”
“I know.”
“Be forewarned the actives follow an unwritten code handed down for centuries. They collectively shun any cadet who refuses to receive anal penetration. Don’t think you can pay someone for the service either. The others will shun him also. Unless you check on your slate you are agreeable to being penetrated, you will graduate with your braid dragging the floor.”
Quiggs stopped kicking his heels. “You’re saying the cadets won’t make an appointment in the clinic with me for anything?”
Professor Hines nodded. “Check yes for anal. Experienced cadets, like Miller, will understand your concerns. They will exercise care, and if you aren’t ready in the ten minutes the law allows per appointment, they’ll wait until the next time.”
Ten minutes was a stupid, miserable law turning a cadet into a one-teat goat on a milking schedule.
“I agree to having my anus penetrated,” Quiggs mumbled.
The professor made the change. “In the history of Port Memphis Academy, only one cadet cut his braid without ever reciprocating. Yet he tapped every junior and senior in the academy. Still keeps his hole off limits.”
“Who?”
“Commander Max Bronn. I believe he was six years ahead of you.”
“How did he get away with it?”
“By having the exceptional body of an Athletic Champion. Every cadet lusted after Max even though he refused to offer up his ass. He said surrendering equaled defeat. Max has never lost a fight in his life. It’s why he remains unwed. By law, wedlock requires reciprocation.”
The fascinating discussion stopped when Doctor Keith wheeled in a cart covered with a spotless white cloth. Quiggs’s stomach rumbled. He’d missed the midday meal.
Two burly medical aides followed the doctor. One carried a glass of cloudy liquid. The other carried wide straps fitted with heavy buckles.
Professor Hines slid back his chair to clear a space for the cart.
Quiggs noted Doctor Keith had changed from his white coat to his surgical blues with his head covered and a facemask hanging by its string around his neck. The doctor folded back the cloth covering the cart to reveal a metal tray of scalpels, sutures, needles, and bandages.
When the aide handed him the glass to drink, Quiggs pulled back, whimpering like Beau.
Professor Hines placed a hand on Quiggs’s tense shoulder. “Drink it all. It’s a calmative. Like for your headaches. Only stronger.”
“What are those straps for? What’s this about?” He clutched the towel tighter to his lap.
“Drink first. When you’re relaxed, I’ll explain the procedure,” the professor replied.
If Quiggs had Beau’s double-jointed digits, he’d be leaping out the window. He stared at the tray, then at the doctor scrubbing his hands and arms up to his elbows at the sink. Dr. Keith hummed as he paid particular attention to under his short fingernails.
If this was the rite of passage, no wonder the academy enforced secrecy.
“Every cadet undergoes this procedure,” Professor Hines spoke calmly. “I have. Doctor Keith has. Warren, giving you the glass, and his husband Harold with the straps have. In eight weeks you will have forgotten the fuss.”
Quiggs took the glass and sniffed. The stuff smelled like it could strip the fur off a goat. When Warren appeared ready to force the glass to his lips, Quiggs slugged it down and felt as if he’d burp flames once he caught his breath.
Warren gently rubbed Quiggs’s throat until he could breathe through the burn. “You should have seen Cadet Miller when his time came. Turned green and fainted dead away. Fell off the table and hit the floor. Doc put stitches in both heads.”
Minutes later, a sense of peace flowed through Quiggs’s body. The aides gently reclined him on the table and pulled away the towel. He forgot what had upset him as the boring beige walls swirled with pretty colors.
So what if the aides wrapped straps around his arms and chest and legs? So what if they scrubbed his cock with a cold disinfectant? So what if Doctor Keith pulled Quiggs’s squeaky clean cock through a hole in a square cloth and placed absorbent pads within reach?
“You’re in good hands, Quiggs. Doctor Keith hasn’t botched a cock yet.” The professor hurried from the room.
“Is he under?” Harold asked.
“He could bleed out and wouldn’t care,” Warren replied. He placed a leather strap inside Quiggs’s mouth. “How are you feeling, cadet?”
“Mmmmphf.”
Doctor Keith lifted a scalpel. “Now about your foreskin…”
Women and their fastidious notions, insisting a hygienic penis was necessary before sex. Had they never heard of soap and water?
Absolutely the most miserable, utterly dumb-assed law ever passed!
Quiggs wore a tight, greased sleeve over his penis to inhibit arousal. The worst part of the procedure—beyond the incredible pain and the collection tubes when he could not pee the first two days—was absolutely no erection for four weeks, or he risked the incision opening. His recovery period confined him to the clinic for a week without visual stimuli.
Beau visited the morning after. He tiptoed u
p to the bed and patted Quiggs’s face. “My friend Quiggs hurt?”
Quiggs nodded warily, expecting an unhappy yowling at the outrage done to him.
Beau lifted the sheet and saw the bandaged area. “You burped your eel. They cut off your foreskin. My friend Quiggs is a man now.”
Quiggs was surprised how calmly Beau was taking this. “Were you aware what Dr. Keith does after a cadet registers active?”
“Sure. Always known big secret. Herders tell me so I happy never gonna be a man.”
“You’ve always known… yet you never thought to warn me? You tell me everything!” The yelling jiggled his cock, and now it ached from tip to root.
Beau patted his arm. “I think if I tell, you never burp your eel.”
Quiggs kept his voice soft. “Any more secrets?”
Beau fidgeted.
“Aw, Beau, just tell me.”
“I hear talk. Many mothers coming to meet you in two weeks.”
The string of curses sent a fresh ache tip to root.
Chapter Four
“Fresh meat, everyone! Our man Quiggs has arrived!”
“Quiggs finally burped his eel.”
“Think you’re walking funny now? Just wait.”
“Bet you didn’t see a cut cock coming!”
“Gotta give up your ass to one of us if you wanna cut the braid!”
Quiggs blushed at the crude welcome from the actives lined up in front of their bunks. He wore his new uniform—lace-up boots, black tee, and roomy pants with deep pockets to adjust an inconvenient boner in public. The shiny black visor of his cap threw interesting shadows on his plain face. Moving slowly, he dropped a jar of grease for his sleeve and a copy of his sex slate on his assigned lower bunk. The actives jostled to get at the slate, hot glints in their eyes as they read it. Professor Hines was right in telling him it was all about the fresh meat and not the physique his first few weeks in the clinic.
Everyone greeting him had experienced the rite of passage, and they understood it was hands-off Quiggs until medical and the clinic had cleared him for sex. He had to wait three weeks before removing his sleeve, then another two weeks before he could tolerate the friction.
“In six weeks, the sensitivity will be tolerable,” Professor Hines reassured him when Quiggs feared the surgery had damaged his dick.
“I don’t want to wait six weeks to enjoy sex. What if my dick forgets?”
The professor winked. “Dicks have a formidable memory.”
Looking around the barracks, Quiggs spotted Miller coming toward him, parting the crowd. As Athletic Champion, Miller had a separate room like the one Quiggs had moved out of. As reigning Academic Champion, Quiggs was still entitled to a separate room. But not yet. He’d requested time to screen potential partners for the clinic. Especially cadets with slender cocks.
Beau clambered down from the top bunk to dance around Quiggs, trilling happily to be bunking above him again. Except for the first, Beau had spent every night of Quiggs’s hospital stay curled up on a pallet beside his bed. Beau had moved his meager belongings to the active barracks this morning.
Miller slung a beefy arm around Quiggs’s shoulder. “You’re mine now, assmunch. So tell me… how loud did you scream when you saw the doctor pick up his scalpel?”
Quiggs tapped the scar on Miller’s temple. “I didn’t fall on my face.”
Everyone laughed, Miller the loudest. He yanked Quiggs’s braid. “How long before your gravy maker’s working?”
“Five to six weeks.”
Beau wriggled up between Quiggs and Miller, chuffing displeasure at Miller’s touching.
Quiggs gave his little friend’s ear an affectionate tweak. “It’s alright, Beau. Not bad for Miller to touch me. Like I explained, remember?” He and Professor Hines had patiently explained the exciting new changes in Quiggs’s life to Beau.
Beau pulled his face into a frown. “Beau must be a good friend and share his Quiggs.”Miller’s hand strayed to Quiggs’s ass and squeezed. “That’s right, runt. I’m first in line to share your good friend’s hole.”
Beau shoved Miller backward onto the stone floor and pounced on his chest, growling nose to nose into his face.
The attack startled Miller. Then he yelled the bloodcurdling battle cry that preceded the rounds of tournaments he’d won the past year.
Beau cut him off by swatting the champion’s nose, then scampering up his bunk, away from Miller’s hard punch back. He hunkered with his flexible feet curled around the edge of the mattress and his sharp white teeth bared. “My friend Quiggs mounts Miller first. Make Miller waddle like a goose fed a sack of grain.”
Blood trickled from Miller’s nose. “He… will… what?”
“Shut up, Beau.” Quiggs glowered at him. Trust Beau to remember Quiggs’s drugged rambling when he couldn’t remember where he’d left his loincloth five minutes ago. Quiggs shot Miller a sheepish smile. “I don’t know where he comes up with such shit.”
“Oh, I doubt Beau made up the remark. I think Beau heard his friend Quiggs bragging.”
“He must have misheard me.” Five minutes in the active barracks, and already Beau caused trouble. Quiggs wanted simple, uncomplicated sex, and lots of it, when his sleeve came off.
Colby, apparently still Miller’s favorite, stepped between Quiggs and Miller. He dabbed at Miller’s bloody nose with a handkerchief. “No fighting. You want half-rations for a week?”
“Uh-uh. We settle this now.” Miller pointed at Beau. “Get down here, runt.”
Quiggs crossed his arms over his chest. “Um… you don’t want to settle this, Miller.”
“His attack challenged my title.”
“Let it go, Champ,” Colby pleaded. “Quiggs’s pet didn’t know what hitting you meant.”
Miller pushed Colby aside. “Doesn’t matter. He drew blood. I’m honor bound to defend my title.”
Colby spread his hands and backed away. “Sorry, Quiggs. Drawing blood is a direct challenge. It’s the code for active cadets. If Beau bunks with us, he follows the code.”
Quiggs looked at Beau. “Get down and tell Miller you’re sorry. When he hits you, don’t hit back. Let him win. We don’t want trouble. Okay?”
“No. I fight. I win, and you make Miller waddle like a goose.”
Colby grabbed Miller by the waist to hold him back. “Don’t hurt him. He’s just a dumb breed.”
“Fight! Fight! Fight!”
The cadets circled them, hooting.
Quiggs patted one of Beau’s knobby knees. “Aw, Beau, don’t listen to them. Say you’re really sorry and shake hands. Right, Miller? No hitting back. Just shake hands and accept he’s sorry.”
“Uh-uh. The runt broke the code.”
Beau puffed out his thin chest. “Not a runt. Wanna fight like a cadet.”
Quiggs turned to Colby. “Help out before this gets ugly.”
“Miller, if you hurt the little fellow, no blow jobs from me for a week,” Colby warned.
“No broken bones. But I’m bustin’ his ugly nose.” Miller rolled his shoulders, bouncing on his feet, ready to show off his lightning jabs. He spoke to Beau, ignoring Quiggs. “You lose this challenge, and your friend’s virgin ass is mine his first trip to the sex clinic. If I lose…” He waited for the hoots of disbelief to stop. “Well, been awhile, but Quiggs can fuck my ass.”
Quiggs straightened at the stakes. “Seriously?” His eyes rounded at Miller’s nod. “You swear?”
“On my honor. Whoever loses drops down on all fours, ass high in the clinic, and the winner fucks him raw.”
Everyone’s rapt attention on him, Quiggs blew out a long breath, then grinned. “Agreed.” He stepped out of the way. “Take him down, Beau.”
Beau leaped and wrestled a swearing Miller stomach-down on the floor. In seconds, he pinned Miller’s hands behind his back and immobilized him with a knobby knee to his spine.
The cadets counted to ten and cheered Beau the winner.
Beau ju
mped off Miller and danced a happy circle, his arms flapping and his knobby knees jutting with each high step.
Miller sat up, shaking his head in disbelief. “The little shit beat me.”
Quiggs drawled, “The little shit can toss a three-hundred pound buck off a flatboat into the vines if it refuses to go down the gangplank and graze. If he were a real cadet, you’d have lost your title. But a bet’s a bet. Your ass is mine, Miller.”
Miller quirked a brow. “When you squeeze your sore cock in my tight hole, we’ll see who yells louder.”
Beau trilled as the cadets hoisted him up and paraded him around the barracks.
Chapter Five
The morning whistle jolted Quiggs from a deep sleep. He jackknifed up. burying his nose into the hairy ass over his face. He gagged and slapped a muscular cheek. “Don’t fart, Miller. I don’t want to die before I drill your ass in the clinic.” Which was four weeks away and counting.
The actives crowded around the bunk, howling, as Miller wiped his hairy ass with the bushy tail of the braid, then tickled Quiggs’s nose with it.
Quiggs had escaped the pranks of baby cadets, only to fall prey to these endless revolting jokes on the new guy. He batted his braid away. “Thanks. My hair smells like ass for my first meet-and-greet.”
Miller swung a leg over to sit on the side of the bunk, dragging his heavy sac across Quiggs’s chin. Quiggs wanted his private room back to escape the constant smells of ass, sweat, and cum permeating the floor.
Yet despite his complaints, male plumbing did it for Quiggs. His cock strained its greased sleeve. He moaned from the ache, and Miller’s smirk said he knew why.
Another unpleasant surprise living with the actives was the shorter shower schedule to inhibit sex play. Actives had two minutes from wet down to suds, followed by a two-minute rinse under a hot stinging spray washing away dirt as well as erections. Cadets who engaged in furtive sex failed inspection. There were worse punishments for infractions than skipped meals and the dean’s heavy arm. Cheating cadets wore cock cages.
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