Worldwide Boy Gladiators Part 2
By istari

copyright 2007 by istari, all rights reserved

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This story is intended for adult audiences only, and is a work of complete and total fiction. Comments are welcome and can be directed to [email protected]
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Chapter 4.

When Chris finally regained consciousness, he was still in the cage, but the cage was no longer in the van. His bleary blue eyes fluttered for a few moments and he slowly began to move his body. The cage he was in was small, but he discovered he could roll over and get up on his hands and knees. He stayed that way for a while, looking out through the iron bars. What he saw made him rather nervous.

He was in a very large room, like a big warehouse or something. There were about thirty people walking around, carrying bags and boxes and talking and walking right by him as if it was perfectly normal to see a thirteen-year-old boy locked inside a cage. Most of the boxes had the XB1 logo on them, and they were being loaded onto carts. Chris couldn't turn around to see what was behind him, but he could turn his head right and left. That's when he saw Josh.

His eleven-year-old brother was also in a cage, just a few feet to the right of the one he was in. Josh was awake too and had managed to sit up inside the cage, drawing his bare legs up to his chest and hugging his arms around his knees. The boys' cages were the same size, and since Josh was considerably smaller than his brother, he had more freedom of movement. Josh realized his brother was awake and looked over at him. The younger boy was scared but trying hard not to let it show, especially in front of Chris.

"Hey," Chris said groggily, his head still foggy.

"Hey," Josh replied.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I gotta pee real bad. I keep tellin' them I gotta go but they won't let me out."

Chris suddenly realized he had to piss too. His penis was fully erect inside the tight white shorts they made him wear. The boy often wondered why he always woke up with a boner and a burning need to pee. He always drained himself right before bed, but it never helped. "I guess we just have to hold it," he said to his brother.

Josh nodded. Of course his bladder was smaller and younger than his brother's by two and a half years. 'Holding it' wasn't going to be a viable option for him for too much longer.

"Why are we in these cages, Chris? We said we'd do it . . . I mean go to the island and stuff . . . why won't they let us out?"

"Because you're boy gladiators," came a voice from behind. It was a man in an expensive suit. He came around and stopped in front of the boys' cages. He had a goatee with a few distinguished flecks of gray in it and dark commanding eyes that made both boys shrink away from him. "You are both slaves, and slaves travel in cages just like animals do. I have spent a great deal of money for you and I will not have you running amok in my hangar or on my plane. Now I believe Mr. Harwell had already explained that you are not allowed to talk. Therefore you have both already broken one of the rules. One of you is going to be punished. Right now. Tell me which one it should be."

The man, of course, was William Durand, owner and CEO of Extreme Action Broadcasting, and also, ultimately, the owner of young Christopher and Joshua Andrews. He stared down at his newest pieces of property, enjoying the sight of two provocatively clad boys locked in cages. And they were property. The moment their boyish signatures were affixed to the indentures the Andrews boys ceased to be human beings. They had no rights, no freedom. In the eyes of society they were now merely animals, pets perhaps, though the average family dog was given far kinder treatment than these boys would be receiving for the next few years.

"Well, boys? Who will it be? If I have to choose one of you, it will go far worse for the one who is chosen."

Chris looked at Josh and Josh looked at Chris. Thirteen- year-old Chris knew what he had to do. He was not going to let his little brother get punished, just for talking.

"Its me, sir," the young teenager said, his voice choosing that moment to break awkwardly and rise a full octave.

Josh breathed a sigh of relief.

Durand summoned one of the uniformed security guards over. "Unlock this cage," he ordered, pointing to the cage in which Chris was confined. The guard quickly found the correct key and swung the cage door open. Chris had no choice but to crawl out on his hands and knees.

"Stand up."

Chris obeyed immediately.

Durand had a chair brought over by another guard and took a seat in front of the thirteen-year-old boy.

"Take your pants off, Chris."

"Yes, sir," the boy replied, shaking. It made him uncomfortable for some reason to hear this complete stranger using his name. Chris skinned the tight shorts off his hips and down his legs, stepping out of them in a graceful motion. His four-inch long cock flopped about and his hairless low-hanging balls swung from side to side between his legs as he did so. When he stood up again, he clasped his hands over his genitals.

"We'll have none of that, Chris," Durand said. "You are not to cover your genitals, and you are never allowed to touch them without permission. You'll be getting an additional punishment for that. Put your hands behind your head."

Chris was about to die from embarrassment. His state of undress was totally humiliating for the young teenaged boy. There he was in just a short gray tunic that didn't even come down over his navel, his middle was totally naked and exposed, and his feet were still in his white Reebok trainers.

Durand said nothing for a few moments, just sat there staring at the cute thirteen-year-old boy on display. "You've got a nice big cock there, don't you, Chris?"

"I . . . I guess so," Chris replied. In fact he knew his penis was maybe a little longer than most boys his age. Being on his community swimming team he had seen lots of young dicks hidden behind tight speedos, and his always seemed to be one of the biggest. It certainly wasn't huge though. Just a nice long thick teenaged boy-cock, in perfect proportion to his lean smooth hairless body. It twitched a little as it dangled soft between his legs. Chris could feel it starting to swell as the man continued to stare at him. When the young teen's penis was semi-erect, Durand stood up.

"Turn around."

"Yes, sir." Chris turned quickly, showing Durand his perfect little butt.

"Bend over and grab your ankles."

"Yes, sir."

Chris bent at his waist and gripped his hands around his ankles. It was a horrible, humiliating position. He knew his ass was on display to anyone who wanted to see it, and there was, by now, a sizeable crowd gathering around the two cages. The boy stood there, his balls dangling low between his legs, the tip of his penis was just visible to Durand as the man stood behind the slim boy.

"Keep your feet still," Durand warned. He raised his hand and brought it down hard on the boy's butt.

Chris yelped in protest and stood up, craning his neck back and glaring at the man. "Ouch, that hurt!"

"You've never been spanked before?" Durand asked.

"No, sir! Never!"

"Well this will be a new experience for you then, won't it? I can promise you it won't be the last spanking you receive over the next three years. Now stand still. Don't make me have you restrained."

The spanking was horrible. Chris was staggered with each heavy blow of the man's hand. The sound of his smooth young butt getting smacked echoed through the hangar. Worst was the fact that everybody was watching. Everybody. Thirty people at least, all gathered round to watch the thirteen- year-old boy get his first spanking. Josh watched from his cage, feeling sorry for his brother but really glad it was Chris and not he who was the one bent over and being spanked.

"Discipline is going to be a very important part of your life from now on, Christopher Andrews," Durand said. "We have invested a great deal of time and money on you and you will learn to do exactly as you are told. You will obey every order that is given to you, immediately and without question. You will be punished for the slightest mistake. Do you understand?"

"I think so . . . I mean, yes, sir!"

Durand continued. Chris struggled to stay on his feet. All the while he knew everyone was watching him, watching his balls swing back and forth as he wiggled and tried to keep his balance. Between his legs he could plainly see he had an erection. His cock was rigid, stretched to its full almost six-inch length. As much as he wanted the spanking to end, he certainly did not want to have to stand up with his penis at full mast.

Chris got twenty swats on his bare behind for talking. He was then given ten more for Joshua. In the end, the boy's end was a fiery red.

"Stand up."

Mercifully, Christopher's penis had gone soft again. He stood up and instinctively reached his hands behind him.

"Stop that, Chris. Keep your hands at your side. Now turn around."

He did, tears running down his cheeks, and saw that everyone was already going back to work. At least no one had laughed at him.

"Stop crying," Durand said. "Since you were so eager to get out of your cage, I have a job for you. Pull your pants up and follow me."

Before he led the thirteen-year-old away, he tossed the key to Joshua's cage to a waiting security guard. "Let the little one stretch his legs for five minutes and let him use the bathroom."

Chris was happy that at least Josh would get to pee. He looked back. Josh was staring at him with a look of terror on his face. Watching your big brother get his butt whipped, hearing Chris cry . . . well it was almost too much for the eleven-year-old. Josh had never seen Chris cry. Ever. Until today.

Christopher's 'job' was to help unload the many vans and trucks that were still arriving, bringing supplies for the trip to the island, and transfer all the crates and boxes to waiting carts. Chris now understood that he and his brother were inside an airplane hangar and that everything was being readied for loading once the plane arrived. He was ordered not to say anything to anyone unless someone gave him an order to do something. Mostly he just carried boxes from place to place until his arms and shoulders were aching. Still, Chris was starting to get very excited. Overhearing everyone's talk, he knew the plane would be landing sometime after midnight. The boy had never been in a plane before. He was looking forward to that. He also learned that several other vans were still expected, all of them delivering more boy gladiators.

He worked hard and quietly, forgetting all about the skimpy uniform they'd made him wear, almost forgetting about his spanking except for the fact that his backside still stung fiercely. To the rest of the crew and staff he was an adorable and provocative sight, this strong, muscular young teenaged boy working alongside them in his gray tunic and white shorts. His taut stomach was fully exposed, the white shorts hugged his ample thirteen-year-old genitals and showed off the gorgeous curve of his rear end, his firm smooth legs ended in a pair of white trainers. He had to endure a constant barrage of good-natured smacks on his perfect little butt whenever he walked past one of the adults, men and women both, but he was glad to be out of the cage. It gave him something to do and helped the time pass.

Chris was basically free to go wherever he wanted in the hangar as long he was carrying a box or crate in his young arms. He worked his way back to Josh's cage, just to see how his kid brother was doing.

Josh was sitting like he was before, his knees drawn to his chest. He flashed his big brother an 'ok' sign with his right hand as Chris passed by his cage. Chris returned it with a gesture of his own.

Chris was put back into his cage after nearly six hours of hard labor. He was allowed to use the bathroom first and given a drink of water. He was a very tired young man when the door to the cage was closed and locked, but he could not lie down comfortably inside the cage. He stayed on his hands and knees as long as he could, then rolled over onto his side, folding his legs up as best he could and drawing his knees up to his chest. He hated the cage already.

Two more vans bearing the XB1 logo pulled into the hanger. A forklift drove up to the back door of each and removed four more cages one at a time. Each cage contained a boy. Each boy was close in age to Josh or Chris and attired in the same skimpy uniform the brothers wore. The four newly arrived cages were placed next to the ones that held Chris and Josh, making a neat straight row of six.

Neither Chris nor Josh could get a very good look at the other boys. Three of them were still unconscious when they arrived, and the boy who was awake had been given the same orders not to talk. One by one the others all woke up, struggled and in some cases cried for a moment when they realized they were still caged, then they too became quiet.

There was a large clock directly over the hangar entrance. If Chris turned his head just right he could see it. It was nine-thirty at night. He could see outside. There were bright lights out there, and it was clear it had been raining. He could just hear it beating on the roof of the hangar far above his head.

At ten o'clock the six boys were released from their cages to be fed. They crawled out together and were told to remain on their knees in front of their cages. A small bowl of soup and two cheese sandwiches were laid on the floor in front of them.

"Eat up, boys," the woman who brought their dinner told them in a kindly way. "That's all you get until you're on the island."

Chris and Josh hadn't eaten since breakfast. Apparently none of the other boys had either. The six of them ate ravenously. Chris divided his second sandwich and gave the smaller piece to Josh. The younger boy smiled at him and gobbled it down.

At eleven o'clock two more vans entered the hangar, and two more sets of cages were removed and set among the six already lined up and waiting. All ten of the boys who would soon be the reluctant stars of Worldwide Boy Gladiators were now securely caged and awaiting the plane that would take them to the island to begin their new lives.

The four latecomers were all fed in the same manner, kneeling in front of their cages, gobbling down their sandwiches and drinking their soup directly from the bowls. Two at a time, the boys were then taken to the bathroom. Chris did not go with Josh. His little brother was taken first, with a boy who appeared to be younger than he was. When Josh returned his hair was wet and water still glistened on his skin. His tunic was plastered to his chest.

Chris was taken with a boy about the same age as he was. Once they reached the bathroom they were told to strip. Both boys skinned out of their uniforms. Chris risked a guilty glance at the other boy. The boy was about as tall as Chris, and had a similar build, long and lean. Chris was sure he had to be a swimmer, just like he was. The other boy had a lot more pubic hair than Chris did, and it was brown to match the hair on the boy's head. It formed a thick triangle over the boy's penis, which was a little smaller than the one hanging between Christopher's legs. Aside from the boy's thicker pubic hair, he was totally hairless.

The boys were given two minutes to relieve themselves. Chris had to do everything, and sat nervously on the toilet. He was given no privacy.

'Damn, I can't shit with those guys watching me!'

"Looks like we've got ourselves a shy one," one of the security men said.

"He'd better get over that real quick if he knows what's good for him."

Chris finally managed to empty his bladder and his bowels and wipe himself just as time ran out. The two boys were then taken to a large open shower room.

"Wet yourselves down, boys," the security guards escorting them ordered. The two nude young teens stood over a drain in the middle of the shower room. There was only one large nozzle above their heads. The two boys shared a moment of hesitation, then Chris turned the faucet. The water was not exactly warm, but it wasn't frigid either. Torturous icy showers would become the norm for Chris over the next three years, but this last warm shower in the country of his birth went by quickly without much appreciation on the young teenager's part.

Forced to stand shoulder to shoulder, back to back, front to front, the two boys were soon sporting erections. The guards snickered to themselves about the turgid state of affairs between the youngsters' legs.

"Alright, kids, time's up. Get those cocks soft and get dressed."

Chris was back in his uniform and back in his cage all in less than ten minutes. He and his shower partner had not said one word to each other. He'd seen the other kid totally naked, felt the other boy's boner accidentally rubbing up against his own in the shower, and he didn't even know the other kid's name.

At midnight plus five minutes, a mid-sized jet rolled into the hangar. Chris' heart leapt into his throat. This was it. He was in a cage and he was going to be put on that plane. There was no way to get out of it. No way to quit. No way back. No way to go home. He was a slave. He was going to be a boy gladiator. People all over the world were going to be watching him. Chris suddenly felt very scared and very small

When all the supplies and equipment had been loaded in the cargo hold, and most of the crew and staff had boarded, William Durand appeared once again. He stood in front of the line of cages, now holding ten young boys between the ages of ten and fourteen.

"Listen up, boys," he began. "I know it's been a very long day for all of you. I'm afraid it is about to get even longer. Once you've all been loaded onto the plane we'll be taking off. It's a nearly two-hour flight from New York City to the island. I'm told the weather is somewhat rough. If any of you feel the need to puke while we're airborne, you will not be punished for it, though I am afraid if you soil your cage, you will simply have to live with it. The cargo compartment is not air-conditioned. You will each be given a bottle of water. I expect you to remain silent. There will be at least one guard in the hold with you at all times.

Once we reach the island, you will be given an orientation where you will meet the staff, the crew and your trainers. You will then be fed and allowed to go to bed for eight hours. That is the most sleep you will ever be getting on Gladiator Island so I would enjoy it if I were you."

Each boy was given his water bottle.

Then the forklifts began their work, loading the cages onto the plane. Chris and Josh were the last two boys to be put aboard. The hold was already hot, and when the cargo door was closed the air went still and stale almost immediately. The hold was dimly lit. The boys were kept all together in one area, their cages packed front to back and side to side. They could hear the roaring of the tires as the plane sped down the runway, then nothing but the drone of the engines and they all knew they were in the air.

None of the boys got sick on the flight, but all ten of them were totally miserable. They were drenched in their own sweat. The water they'd been given had long ago vanished. It was too hot for the boys to sleep in their small cramped cages.

Chapter 5.

At four o'clock in the morning, the XB1 jet touched down on the newly extended runway of the newly renamed Gladiator Island. The cargo door was opened and the boys got their first breath of the sticky, hot, humid tropical air of their new home. All the boxes and crates were removed first, and finally, as the sun was just beginning to rise on Saturday August 17, 2039, the cages holding the ten boys were off- loaded onto the back of a truck.

Chris looked out through the iron bars of the cage and saw the dark green vegetation rolling by as the truck sped down the road. There was a sweet smell in the warm air, and the sound of birds and insects filled his ears. In his thirteen years, Chris had never imagined he could ever be so far from home. But then he realized this was his home for the next three years of his life.

The truck stopped in front of a large building with the XB1 logo over the entrance. It was the main broadcast and support building that housed all the production equipment and technology, the cafeteria and the infirmary for the staff. A smaller infirmary for the boys was located in the training facility.

All of the cages were opened, and the boys were ordered to crawl out and jump off the truck. Five security guards in gray uniforms quickly surrounded them and marched them into the building, escorting them down a long corridor and into a large open room. Their trainers were there waiting for them, each with a metal box sitting on a small table beside them. Chris recognized Jason Sanborne right away.

The boys were lined up in the center of the room, facing the six men and four women who were going to be their trainers. William Durand entered from a side door and called everyone to attention.

"Good morning, boys. Welcome to Gladiator Island." He walked slowly up and down the line of boys in their small slave tunics and embarrassingly tight white shorts. Ten sets of firm, shapely, athletic boy legs were on display, ten sets of young genitals protruded provocatively in the shorts. Some of the boys had much larger packages between their legs than others. Chris was actually quite proud that his and Josh's were among the biggest. Ten boy bellies were exposed, lean and taut, some tanned a golden-brown, some pale white, all with adorable navels. There were five innies in the group and five outties, a pure coincidence. Durand addressed them as he walked, pausing for a few moments in front of each boy to stare into their young, nervous eyes.

"You will be living and training and competing here until you are sixteen years old. For some of you that will be less than two years, for others it will be as long as five or six. The boy gladiators of ancient Rome were slaves, and so are you. You will be trained and disciplined and live your lives just as they would have done. Short of killing you, there are no limits to what we can do to you or make you do. You have no rights. You have no say. Make no mistake, little men, our viewers are interested in one thing: Watching you suffer in the most extreme ways imaginable. No part of your bodies is off limits. You will be punished for your failures and mistakes. You will be rewarded for your victories and successes. When you reach your sixteenth birthdays, you will be returned to your parents and you will be extremely rich. You and your parents agreed to this arrangement of your own free will. There is no escape."

Durand paused to let all of this new information sink in. All of the boys knew they would have to be slaves for a few years, few them grasped the extreme pain, humiliation and suffering they would each endure until they turned sixteen.

"And now, we will handle the formalities of the roll call and assign you to your trainers. You will notice the cameramen in the room. You are always to ignore them. Never look directly into any of the cameras unless you are told to by your trainer. If you disobey, you will be punished. When I call your name, step forward, strip, and stand at attention. Your trainer will come to fetch you."

There was a moment of silence while Durand took his place at a podium behind the trainers. His laptop was already set up and waiting for him. He opened the necessary files and reviewed all the information his researchers had collected on each boy. "Andrews, C."

Chris was hoping he wouldn't be the first boy to have to step forward and strip naked, but he had no choice. Blushing slightly he left the line and walked toward the waiting trainers. He saw a piece of black tape on the floor and cleverly figured out this was where he was supposed to stop.

"State your name, age and nationality. Tell us what sports you are best at. Speak up so the cameramen can hear you."

"My name is Christopher Andrews," Chris said, darting his eyes from one trainer to the next, finally resting his gaze on Jason Sanborne. "I'm thirteen. I'm from the USA. I swim and I wrestle." With that, Chris pulled off his tunic, took off his shoes and slid his tight white shorts off his hips and down his legs, his boy-cock swinging back and forth as he stepped out of them. Now he was naked, the only naked boy in the whole room. The two cameramen moved in closer to him, filming his nude thirteen-year-old body from head to toe.

"Your trainer is Jason Sanborne," Durand said.

Jason Sanborne stepped forward. "Put your hands behind your head and come over here to the table."

Chris immediately obeyed and walked forward to the small table his trainer had indicated. There was a metal box sitting on it. The boy tried to sneak a look inside, but it was closed and locked.

"Stand next to me and don't move."

Chris nodded that he understood. As frightened as he was, he was sort of glad he was first. Now he just had to wait for the others to endure the same humiliation he'd just been through. At least he'd get to watch.

Josh was called next. He stood in the middle of the room, and repeated his brother's performance. "I'm Joshua Andrews. Chris is my brother. I'm eleven and I'm from the USA. I'm a wrestler. Free-style's my best, but I do Greco-Roman too." Josh stripped much faster than his brother had done. He just wanted to get it over with. All of the trainers and film crew in the room couldn't help but stare at the oversized organ that dangled between the eleven-year-old's legs. It was already almost as big as thirteen-year-old Christopher's, and Josh hadn't even started puberty yet.

"Your trainer is Hanna Dubose."

A tall young woman, barely in her twenties stepped forward. She wore the same gray jumpsuit as Jason Sanborne. Her hair was dark and cut very short. She was a lesbian, but took a certain delight in the idea of training and tormenting a young boy. She generally disliked males, and she took an immediate dislike to little Joshua with his not so little penis.

"Put your hands behind your head and get over here, wiener- boy," she sneered at him. The other trainers laughed. Not a terribly imaginative nickname, but it was certainly descriptive, and young Josh would be tagged with it for the next five years of his life.

Already very much afraid of this very powerful and confident young woman, a very naked Josh scurried over to Hanna Dubose's table.

William Durand called each boy's name individually. And each boy took his turn stepping into the center of the room, alone and frightened. Each boy stripped off his uniform and stood naked before the trainers and of course the other boys who'd gone earlier. The youngest and smallest boy was Miles Harris. He was English, a Londoner in fact, and excelled at running and cricket.

"There won't be much cricket on this island," Durand said with a smile, "but you will have plenty of chances to show us all how fast you can run."

Miles had a very athletic build in spite of his young age. His legs were particularly muscular and well developed. His genitals though were very small, a tiny circumcised cock barely two inches long and balls that still hugged up close to his body. Naturally there was not a lick of hair on him, aside from the shaggy brown mop on his head.

The oldest boy turned out to be the one Chris had showered with earlier. He was David Brown, age fourteen and six months, from Australia. He was taller than Chris, though not the tallest boy in the group. Like Chris he was a swimmer, and also competed in Australia's junior lifeguard competitions. He had the most pubic hair of all the boys, and even had a few sparse hairs growing under his arms. The rest of his body was still perfectly hairless. The hair on his head was brown. His eyes were blue. His genitals were about the same size as Christopher's, his cock a bit smaller, his balls a bit larger.

The boy with the biggest cock and balls was Illya Casparev, a Russian and a thirteen-year-old about two months older than Chris was. His cock was a massive organ, nearly six inches long, and very thick, dangling down over a set of plump low-hanging balls. Illya's genitals were made to appear even larger due to the fact that the thirteen-year- old did not have a single pubic hair. His entire body was as smooth and hairless as that of the younger boys. Illya was a gymnast. The muscles in his arms and legs certainly proved that.

The remaining boys were all equally cute and equally athletic, and after the final boy was called, they all stood equally naked next to their trainers. All of them were curious as to the contents of the metal boxes on the small tables. They were soon to find out, although it is doubtful any of them would be too happy about it when they did.

Durand addressed the ten trainers and their boys. "Now that you boys have met your trainers, we need to establish some rules about your behavior. Your trainers are your masters. If you remember that, you will do very well here on the island. You are to obey them without question. Your trainers will tell you what is expected of you each day. They will supervise your daily training sessions and prepare you for each contest. You will always try your best. This is a competition. You will be competing against each other, either in teams or individually. You will also be competing against yourself. You will earn points both inside and outside the arena for being obedient and doing things correctly, and you will be given demerits for misbehaving and for any errors you make. Winning a contest does not necessarily mean you will earn points in your favor." Durand paused for a moment. The boys' eyes were all locked on him, trying to make sense of everything they were being told. It was almost overwhelming for them. Some of the boys had been awake for more than twenty-four hours now, all of them were scared and exhausted.

"Your trainers will help to ensure that you are in the best shape of your lives, and that you stay that way. They are here to help you endure hardships you cannot yet imagine. They are not here to be your friends or your counselors. Obey them. Never lie to them. Do exactly what they tell you, when they tell you."

Chris looked up at Jason. The young man gave him a brief smile.

"Now, trainers, please unlock each boy's box. Boys, go back and get your shoes and your uniforms. Fold your tunics and shorts and place them on the table."

Each of the trainers drew a ring of keys from his or her pocket and opened the boxes that lay on the tables. The nude boys meanwhile scrambled back to the other side of the room and picked up their cast off clothing, in some cases having a hard time figuring out whose was whose. After a few minutes of boyish chaos, everything was sorted out and all ten of the boys returned to their trainers, carrying their meager clothing in their arms.

Chris deposited his uniform and his shoes on the table.

"You won't be needing these very often," Jason explained. "You'll be naked most of the time."

"I'm getting used to it, sir," Chris whispered.

Jason smiled, but then his youthful features grew stern. "No talking. Don't open your mouth again or I'll have to punish you."

Durand called everyone back to attention. Indoctrinating the boys was a carefully orchestrated step-by-step process, intended to reinforce the fact that they were all slaves and would remain so until their indentures expired. "Trainers, it is now time to put your young gladiator in his collar and irons."

Jason Sanborne reached into the box and pulled out a thick iron collar. It opened with a hinge and had four iron rings on it, one in front, one in back, and one on each side. Chris stared at it with wide anxious eyes.

"Stand still, Chris," Jason said. He put the collar around the thirteen-year-old's neck and locked it in place. He could sense the young teenager's apprehension. "Slaves always wear collars. It will not come off until you leave the island."

Next, iron shackles were locked around the boy's ankles. Like the collar, they had rings on them. Another identical pair soon adorned his wrists. Chris was totally silent, not even daring to breathe. Just a few days ago he was a free person, a normal happy kid enjoying his summer vacation. Now he was naked, and collared, with heavy iron shackles locked around his wrists and ankles. His summer vacation was over, but his schooling was going to be quite different from now on. He was a thirteen-year-old slave, a thirteen-year-old gladiator. He started trembling. He couldn't help himself. At this moment he was more afraid than he'd ever been before.

The other boys were equally subdued and equally frightened. All of the trainers sensed it. Durand at the podium sensed it. It was exactly the reaction he wanted. The ten boys were now all locked in their collars and shackles.

"Trainers, attach the chains."

Sanborne went back to the box. He first produced a two-foot length of heavy chain, which he attached to the irons around Christopher's ankles, securing it with a set of padlocks. A second chain followed it. This one was attached to the iron shackles around the boy's wrists. Chris was now chained hand and foot. The chains were long enough that he could still freely move his arms and legs, but they were heavy, adding to the already substantial weight of the shackles themselves. Chris knew he could not get out of them. He bit his lower lip. If he could have quit, he would have done it right there. But he couldn't quit. He'd signed the paper himself, making himself a slave. His only escape was his sixteenth birthday, nearly three full years away.

"Get used to the chains, Chris," his trainer explained. "Whenever you're not in the arena, in the boys' barracks, or at the training facility, you will be chained."

Chris swallowed hard and nodded that he understood.

Just then Durand issued his next set of instructions.

"Trainers, put your boys into their chastity devices."

Jason again reached into the box and produced a bizarre metal object. Chris could tell by the general shape and size of the object that it was meant to go on only one place on his body. He took a close look at the device in his trainer's hands and tried to bolt.

'No way they're putting that thing around my dick!' he thought to himself.

He wasn't the only one of the ten boys who had that reaction. Jason grabbed him under the arm and held him still. "None of that, Chris. If you do that again, you'll be punished. You signed the contract. You're a slave now. Deal with it. You will wear this at all times. Now stand still and let me put it on you."

"What the hell is it?" the naked thirteen-year-old asked, trying to regain his composure, staring at the shiny metal device.

"Just like Mr. Durand said. It's a chastity device." Jason held it closer and turned it this way and that so Chris could get a better look at it. "This particular style has been around for over forty years, kiddo. They usually come in plastic, but we had these made from stainless steel. It has two main pieces . . . " he removed the small padlock that held it all together. "Hold out your hand, boy."

Chris did as he was told and Jason put the biggest piece of the device in the boy's left hand. It looked like a small metal cage, about three inches long from end to end and one inch wide. There was a small metal ring at the open end, less than an inch in diameter. Two metal posts stuck out on the back of the ring. Each post was about a 1/2 inch long. It was on the other side of this ring that things got interesting, scary interesting in young Chris' opinion.

Six metal bars were welded to the ring, held permanently in place, stretching down from the ring and attaching themselves about two inches further down to another even smaller ring about 3/4 of an inch in diameter. The bars looked as if they passed through this ring, took a sharp forty-five degree downward angle, and finally attached themselves to the end of the device, which was closed off by yet another even smaller ring with its own set of tiny bars running in parallel lines across its diameter. The result resting in Christopher's palm was a not quite three-inch long metal cage that curved wickedly under itself at its very end.

"That part goes around your penis."

"Yeah. I kinda figured that out myself."

"Smart boy. Now this larger ring," Jason held up the other primary piece to this puzzling device, "goes around the base of your cock and balls. There's three little holes drilled through the top of the ring, see . . ."

Again Chris got to inspect it close up.

"There's a post that slides through the hole in the middle," Jason held out his hand and showed Chris the post with all the other as yet unidentified bits, "and the posts on the penis cage slide into the two holes on either side of the middle hole."

"What's all the rest of that stuff."

"These little round things are spacers, to make sure it fits you nice and snug. And this," Jason held up the last piece. It was a half-circle, shining steel like the rest of the device, and along its inner curvature there was a series of small metal spikes. It had a hole at the top for the main post to pass through. "Well, I think you've got the idea about what that piece is for. Now spread your legs a bit so I can get this on you. You're not going to give me any trouble are you?"

"No, sir."

"Good. Try your best not to get an erection."

Jason drew the thirteen-year-old boy's low-hanging balls through the ring then slowly worked the boy's penis through, pulling the kid's genitals forward until the ring rested right up against Christopher's pubic region. It was the first time any hand but his own, or maybe possibly his mom's when he was very little, had touched his private parts. Chris couldn't help but let out a soft moan as his cock slowly swelled to a semi-erect state.

"Alright. Calm yourself down." Jason ran his hands playfully through Christopher's sparse little tuft of blond pubic hair. He didn't have the heart to tell the young teenager that he'd soon be loosing it, along with every other pretty much non-existent wisp of hair on his slim muscular little body.

"Now the post, the spacers, and the spikes." Jason slid the post through the middle of the three holes, then slid the spacers down the post, followed by the half-circular spike attachment. Chris could feel the spikes digging into the flesh of his penis right away.

"Ouch."

"Stop whining. Now the penis cage." Jason lined up the three posts and slid the device on, using just the tips of his pinky fingers (the only ones that could fit in the spaces between the bars) to pull the tip of the boy's penis all the way down to the end. Chris immediately felt his cock being curved back under itself. He started to get hard just as Jason was putting the padlock through a tiny hole at the very end of the center post. The trainer snapped the lock in place with a very ominous and final 'click.' He took the key and added it to the ring that already held the keys to Christopher's collar and shackles.

"Oh, shit . . . " Chris whispered as his cock strained against the metal cage, the five tiny spikes digging even deeper into his swollen teenaged meat.

"You can't have an erection in that thing, Christopher. When you try to, you'll feel the spikes even more."

In a total panic, Chris instinctively reached down and tried to pull the device off his genitals. It wouldn't budge. He looked up at Jason with a look of sheer confused terror in his watering blue eyes.

"You can't take it off, Chris. You need the key to do that. And you don't have the key, do you?"

"No, sir," Chris hung his head as the stark reality of this situation sunk in. His penis was locked in a cage and there was nothing he could do about it.

"I'm your trainer, Chris," Jason said sternly, "and that means I'm in charge of you . . . all of you. From now on, I decide when you can have an erection. And I can promise you it won't be very often. You'll get used to it. You don't really have a choice, do you?"

"No, sir."

The only consolation Chris could find was that all of the other boys also had chastity devices locked around their cocks and balls. Looking around he did notice that Josh, and the two other younger boys were wearing a somewhat different contraption. Josh had on a thick black leather belt. Attached to this belt was a metal plate in the shape of a triangle with a slight outward and downward curve to it. The plate concealed and encased Joshua's penis and testicles completely. They could not be seen or touched. The belt locked around the boy's waist from behind with two heavy padlocks. A leather strap ran from the bottom of the plate, under Joshua's legs and up the length of his little butt- crack, attaching itself to the belt and pulling the plate tightly against the eleven-year-old's abdomen. It made him appear totally flat up front between his legs, no cute young genitals dangling softly. It was as if eleven-year-old Josh had no genitals at all.

Chris of course did not know all the details, but Josh was currently experiencing the odd and not very pleasant sensation of having his testicles forced back up into his body, his penis pressed permanently downward between his legs.

Joshua, Ian, and Miles, the three youngest boys, all wore these nasty chastity belts. None of the little boys would be having stiffies with the belts locked around their slender waists.

William Durand again stood in front of the group. "Now boys, each of you will receive your number. This will make it easier for the staff and crew and the audience at home to identify you. Trainers, if you will take your boy's identification tag and attach it to the ring on the front of his collar."

Jason reached into the box once again. This time he pulled out a small square metal ID tag. Chris looked at it closely. It was silver, with thick black lettering. It simply said:

'Boy 07'

Jason attached it to the front of Christopher's collar. "That's your name from this moment on. You will never be called by your given name again. I will find a nickname for you eventually, but for now you will answer to Boy Zero- Seven."

Chris nodded and looked over to find Josh. He quietly and quickly flashed a seven with his fingers. Josh just as quickly flashed two fingers back at him.

The numbers were not random, but in fact based on the boy's ages. Boy number Zero-One was ten-year-old Miles Harris. Boy number One-Zero was fourteen-year-old David Brown, the oldest boy on the island, but not the biggest. Chris even though he was one of the tallest, was only the fourth oldest, and so he ended up with number Zero-Seven. It would be his name for the next three years.

"Now we will put you in pairs," Durand said, gazing out at the ten handsome muscular boy athletes. Aside from the wispy tufts of pubic hair on the older boys, their strong young naked bodies were all completely smooth and hairless. "In most cases you will be competing as team-mates, though there will be exceptions. To keep things fair, we will be pairing an older boy with a younger boy. When your numbers are called please pick up your boxes and step forward with your trainers. Then move to the other side of the room."

Durand looked down at his roster, made a few last minute adjustments and began reading out the numbers.

"Zero-One and Zero-Nine."

That paired ten-year-old Miles Davis with fourteen-year-old Phillipe Dulac. Phillipe was the only French boy in the group. Diving was his sport of choice. He was long-limbed and lean, with an uncircumcised cock that was of just about average length for his age but very thick and crowned with a nice tuft of light brown pubic hair. The two boys and their trainers stepped forward and walked across the room, carrying their boxes in front of them. "Lift that box higher, Zero-Nine," the older boy's trainer, a woman, said. "You are not allowed to cover your genitals. Ever."

"Zero-Three and Zero-Eight."

Eleven-year-old Ian Cloverdale and thirteen-year-old Illya Casparev stepped forward. Their trainers were both men. Illya, a skim alabaster-skinned Russian, was actually taller than either of the two fourteen-year-olds. Ian was tanned a deep dark golden brown except for a striking pure white patch around his middle where his speedo would have been. Hidden within the confines of his chastity belt, was a cock that was still rather small, but his balls were quite large and hung lower than Josh's did. Ian already had some pubic hair, black like the hair on his head, forming a small wispy triangle above his penis. None of this of course could now be seen, since a metal plate covered the youngster's genitals completely. Beside him, thirteen-year-old Ilya's huge man-sized dick, without a single pubic hair around it, was now confined by the metal cock-cage. It was a fairly comical sight, a boy so young with a cock so big. He and Josh probably should have been paired together.

"Zero-Two and One-Zero."

Josh got David, the oldest boy in the competition, and the only one with a fairly thick bush of pubic hair above his penis. The rest of him however was a completely hairless as his four-foot-six-inch tall eleven-year-old partner. Josh looked back at his brother in fear. He was sure he'd get to be with his brother the whole time, he never would have signed the contract if he thought they'd be separated. Chris was also disappointed and worried. He'd promised Josh he'd take of him and look after him. He'd promised his parents the same thing. Now they'd be competing against each other. With his head down, prodded along by his trainer, the second of the four women in the room, young Josh followed David to the other side. The fourteen-year-old's trainer was also a woman, much to young David's embarrassment.

"Zero-Six and Zero-Five."

That was a pairing of the two oldest twelve-year-olds, Daniel O'Hanlon, the only Canadian, and the only red-head among the boys, and the second English boy Gabriel Shelton who, based upon his age, had the strongest heaviest build of all the boys. There was no fat on the kid's body at all. He was solid muscle. His sports were soccer and rugby, and his compact frame was perfectly proportioned for his chosen athletic endeavors. Neither boy had a lick of hair on his body. Gabriel's genitals, before being locked away in the chastity device, were quite large for a boy of twelve. Daniel's on the other hand were quite small, the smallest in fact of virtually all the boys, beating only ten-year-old Miles in that department.

"Zero-Four and Zero-Seven."

Simply by elimination, Chris already knew boy number Zero- Four would be his partner. It was the other Russian, Alexei Graznikov. He was only a little bit bigger than Josh, and unlike the two older twelve-year-olds, he had slight dusting of pubic hair over a particularly thick three-inch long cock. He was trim, tight and muscular, and Chris knew just by looking at him that we was a wrestler the same as Josh was. If his younger brother could not be his partner, Alexei was probably the next best choice. The two boys stood face to face and shared a quick smile, remembering that they were not allowed to speak out of turn. Then they picked up their boxes and marched across the room with their trainers. Alexei's trainer was a woman, which clearly did not make him, or Chris, terribly happy.

"Alright boys, listen up," Durand said. "This is the last time you will stand in this building. No slaves are allowed here. We're going to march you outside and show you around the complex. Your first stop will be the arena. Trainers, chain your boys together, please."

Two-foot lengths of chain were brought out and attached to the iron collars around each boy's neck, chaining him to his partner.

"Whenever you are being taken from one place to another, you will be chained together," Alexei's trainer explained to them as Jason locked the chain in place. The chain was very heavy. Chris and Alexei were close in height, but they quickly discovered they had to stand close together to keep slack in the chain. "My name is Natasha," she said to Chris, her accent clearly Russian. She was a very large and very frightening woman, a few inches taller than Jason. She gazed down at the thirteen-year-old's strong athletic young body and a wicked leer filled her eyes. "You will address me as 'ma'am'."

"Yes, ma'am," Chris said.

"Follow us, boys," Jason said and the two boys fell in step behind their trainers.

They walked out into the hot tropical sun. There were no trees close by to offer the boys any shade. They left the production building, passed the small resort-style hotel that had built for special guests, crossed a neatly manicured dirt road and saw the arena for the first time. It was an octagonal building, not as large as the boys might have expected, but it was the biggest building on the island, with the exception of William Durand's private estate.

"This is the public entrance," Durand said as the ten boys and their trainers marched around the front of the building. It was ornate and elegant and clearly intended for those of great wealth and influence. "It is strictly off-limits to you boys. Your entrance is at the back."

With their chains rattling and clinking with each step, the nude boys were led around the structure. A set of steel double doors marked the boys' entrance to the arena. Jason and one of the other male trainers pulled the doors open and the boys were marched down a steep ramp into a large underground room. It was dimly lit, but the boys could see cages, and cells, and four ominous looking wooden tables with metal restraints and chains at each corner.

"We are directly beneath the floor of the arena," Durand explained. "Some of the events will require all of you to be in the arena at the same time, most of them will not. You will be held here until your number is called. Then you will ascend those stairs," Durand pointed to one of two sets of stairs that led up to the arena. Over the arched opening the word 'BOYS' was painted in black letters. The other staircase had the words 'Trainers and Crew'.

The boys were given a few minutes to walk around the lower level. There were no windows at all. The four tables drew a lot of attention and a lot of frightened anxious looks. All of the boys wondered what might happen to them on one of those tables and all of them decided they did not want to end up there. The cages were larger than the ones they'd been put into for their journey to the island. Tall and narrow, it was obvious that each could hold only a single boy and that he would have to be standing the entire time he was in it.

"Alright, boys," Durand called them back to attention. "Up the stairs you go." The five pairs of boys marched quickly and silently up the steps. The staircase was just wide enough to allow for a pair of boys chained together at the neck. Chris and Alexei where the first ones to reach the floor of the arena. Durand and the trainers had taken the other steps and were already there waiting for them.

"You will run up those steps from now on," Durand said. "When you reach the top, you will come to the center of the arena and wait with your hands behind your heads. Do it now."

The ten boys all crowded together in the center of the floor, assuming the required position. The area in which they stood was square, fifty yards by fifty, with a five- foot high wall on all sides. Hard unforgiving concrete was beneath their bare feet. Above the wall, the seating for the spectators began. The arena would hold five hundred people, and there was not an obstructed view in the house. The arena was enclosed, the roof covered in tiles which would amplify the sounds from the floor below.

"The arena," Durand said, gesturing wide with his arms. "Modeled after the coliseums of the ancient world. You will be shedding a lot of sweat and quite a few tears on this floor."

The boys all shivered. Their chains rattled.

"Live competitions will take place here every Friday and Saturday. All of you will always compete in the live events. There will be additional contests throughout the week. These will be more selective, designed to test your individual strengths and weaknesses. Not all events will be held indoors. Follow me."

With their trainers prodding them forward, the boys marched through an open archway at the far end of the arena, passed through a narrow tunnel and came out into the bright, sweltering tropical sunlight. There in front of them was a long oval track, with grandstands built along both straight- aways. The track itself was simply hard-packed dirt. It was forty feet wide along the straight sections, but narrowed considerably in the oval curves at each end. Inside the track there were two small open pavillions, each with a single wooden bench, more holding cages like the ones the boys had already seen below the arena, and five two-wheeled carts which immediately caught the young gladiators attention.

"The hippodrome. Your foot and chariot races will be held here," Durand explained as the ten boys were forcefully marched around the entire track. "The track is 3/4 of a mile long. I see you've all noticed the chariots. They've been designed to be pulled by something considerably smaller than a horse. An animal with fewer legs. A boy, to be precise."

The naked boys gave each other nervous worried glances. The chariots, though small, looked to be very sturdy and no doubt very heavy.

"I'll never be able to pull something like that," young Josh said, staring at the two-wheeled chariot with dread.

Once they'd completed their circuit of the track, the boys were hurried along at a brisk run to the far side of the arena, where another out-door facility awaited their inspection. It was an enormous swimming pool. Olympic sized.

Chris and the other swimmers in the group immediately got excited.

"Is there any boy here who can't swim?" Durand asked.

Ten-year-old Miles was the only boy who raised his hand.

"You will learn," Durand said sternly. "Quickly. Boy Zero- Seven!"

It took Chris a few seconds to realize Durand meant him. 'Oh, that's me!' he thought. "Yes, sir!" he shouted as loud and brave as he could.

"Our research tells us you are likely the best swimmer in the group. You will be responsible for teaching Zero-One here to swim. You will be punished if he fails to meet my expectations. Trainers, make a note of it."

Jason drew out his digital notepad and quickly entered these special orders. Chris suddenly did not feel so good about being such a good swimmer.

"I'm sure you boys are thinking you will enjoy yourselves in the pool," Durand continued. "I can assure you that will not be the case."

The boys were marched away from the pool and taken to the training facility right next door. There was a large common area in the center of the building with smaller special training rooms all around it. The infirmary and its examination room were also here. The main room looked like any well-equipped athletic training facility. There were weight machines, treadmills, rowing machines, free weights, medicine balls, jump ropes and even a climbing wall at one end. Everything was new and the boys were excited about being able to train on all that cool equipment. Their reaction to the six smaller special training rooms was considerably less enthusiastic.

There were three on either side, opening onto the main room. They were each about twenty feet by twenty. All six of them had solid steel doors. There were no windows. The boys all gasped when they saw the contents of these rooms. There were contraptions and devices and pieces of equipment none of them had ever seen before. Most of them looked extremely scary and painful. Chris wondered just exactly what kind of training was going to be going on here. Once again the boys were allowed to walk around, exploring each room, studying the bizarre equipment close up. The puzzled unsure looks on all of their young faces was priceless, and of course the cameras, which were already following them everywhere they went, captured all of it. Some of the older boys were beginning to get some idea about what might be happening to them in this building. Strange things. Things that had nothing to do with athletics as they understood the word. There were nervous giggles and frightened awestruck gasps.

Of course even the youngest boys knew what the whips and canes and paddles that hung from the walls of each room would be used for. None of the boys dared get too close to those.

"Boys," Durand addressed them as their trainers gathered them back together again. "You will now be taken to the barracks. You will be allowed rest until feeding time. After you have been fed, you will be brought back here and your training will begin. Move out!"

They were marched toward a single isolated building sitting out on open ground, surrounded by a high fence topped with razor wire. The boys did not like the looks of it at all. A uniformed guard stood by the only gate in the fence. He spoke into his radio and the gate buzzed loudly for a moment and clicked open.

The ten boys were marched inside by their trainers, and the gate closed and locked behind them. Another guard stood at the door to the barracks and buzzed it open for them. The boys were ushered inside to find five more guards on duty, two of whom were women. Durand had followed behind the parade of naked boys and told them all to gather in the common area of the barracks. The boys all stood there, collared, shackled, chained, their young genitals locked away in chastity devices. Some of them looked scared, all of them looked shocked, none of them looked terribly happy.

"The guards are in charge of you while you're inside the barracks," Durand explained to the ten boys. "The gladiators of ancient times were slaves and so are you. You are, essentially, animals, and the guards are instructed to treat you accordingly. They will not go out of their way to be cruel to you, but you boys must start to learn that you are no longer free human beings. The guards will oversee your feeding, your daily showers and any routine punishments you earn while in this building. You will obey them the same you will obey your trainers. They are allowed to discipline you as they see fit. This common area, and your cells are the only places on the island where you will be allowed to speak freely to each other, but you will remain quiet and orderly at all times. You are not allowed to leave the barracks without a trainer to accompany you.

Your daily routine is as follows: You will be awakened for breakfast at 0800 every morning. You will eat all the food you are given. You will then be taken to the shower area. The guards will supervise you closely to make sure your bodies are clean. Your trainers will come for you at 0900 to start your day. You will be returned here for supper at 1700, allowed to go to the bathroom then resume whatever activities you've been assigned. You will be returned to your barracks by 2130 each night and given two hours of free time. There will be no television, no video games. There is a small library from which you may borrow one book at a time. Lights out is at 2330 hours.

You will be allowed to make one fifteen-minute telephone call home each week. Your trainer will schedule your call time for you. This is a privilege and not a right. You are slaves. If you break any rules, your call privileges will be taken away. Trainers, remove their chains."

The ten trainers quickly unlocked the chains attached to the boys' collars, freeing them from their partners. The shackles around their ankles and wrists were also removed. Each set of chains and shackles was hung next to the doors of the five small cells that would be the boys sleeping quarters. Each pair was assigned to a cell. Chris and Alexei were placed in cell number three. It had two small metal slabs that folded down from the wall. Each was covered with a thin mattress. There was a pillow on each bed, a single white sheet, and no blankets. The cell had a window, covered by thick mesh screen and iron bars. Fresh air could come in, but the boys could not see out. Aside from the beds, there was nothing else in the tiny little room.

The boys were put in their cells and locked in until supper was delivered from the cafeteria building. Chris was distraught. He hadn't had one chance to say anything to Josh. He knew his little brother must be scared to death right now, but there was nothing he could do to help him. He sat on his bunk and swung his legs freely, his toes just barely grazed the floor.

"You are scared?" Alexei said, his voice just showing the first signs of puberty.

Chris looked up at his younger partner in surprise. Alexei smiled brightly.

"Da. I speak good English. You are Christopher?"

"Yeah. You can call me Chris."

"Chris," the twelve-year-old Russian boy smiled, showing a rather endearing gap in his front teeth. "You are scared?"

"Hell yes! Aren't you?"

"Da. I don't . . . understood . . . why we wear these things . . . " Alexei spread his slender muscular legs and pointed down at the metal device encasing his hairless genitals.

"Me neither," Chris sighed. "Guess I won't be jerkin' off for a while. You're Alexei, right?"

"Da," the twleve-year-old said, pointing a finger at his chest. "Alexei

Ivanovich Graznikov."

Chris held out his hand. "Nice to meet you. Guess we're going to be team-mates or something like that."

"Team . . . mates. Yes. I like. Nice to meet you too."

"Sorry I don't speak any Russian."

Alexei smiled again. "I will teach. If you help me with English? Good?"

Chris couldn't help but smile at the boy's awkward way of speaking. But he was relieved the other kid at least understood what he was saying. "Deal," Chris said, again shaking Alexei's hand.

"Natasha says we always will be naked. You think she says truth?"

Chris nodded. "Jason told me the same thing. Just think, Alexei, millions of people are gonna get to see our big dicks an our naked butts every fuckin' Saturday."

"Fuckin' Saturday!" Alexei shouted with a big laugh, slapping his bare thighs with his hands. "Big fuckin' dicks! I have a big fuckin' dick! Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Well, you've got that word figured out anyway," Chris replied. "And you're dick ain't really all that big, buddy, sorry to tell you."

"Your little brother . . . he has big one."

"Bigger than yours," Chris said with a certain amount of pride, and also a certain amount of embarrassment that Josh's penis was already almost as big as his own. "Illya is like, totally huge, man. I mean damn."

"Illya, da," Alexei said. "We are friends for very long time. He only got so big a few years ago."

"You're a wrestler, right?"

The twelve-year-old nodded with enthusiasm. "Very good wrestler. You?"

"I wrestle, but that's really my brother's thing. I'm a swimmer. No one's gonna beat me in the water."

"We will make a good team," the young Russian said.

"I think so too."

Chapter 6.

Chris managed to fall asleep for about six hours before he woke up shouting. The boy's four-inch long penis was trying its best to get hard inside the chastity device, driving the metal spikes into the thirteen-year-old's flesh.

"Fuck! Dammit!" he cursed as he shot up on his bunk and pulled the sheet off his body. He was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. The room was sweltering. There was only the faintest breeze blowing through the barred screen in the window. He dropped back onto his elbows and stared down the length of his body. He was panting, his muscular stomach rising and falling in rapid breaths. His was in a fix and that was sure. His penis was doing what it always did when he woke up, only now the young teenager's normal six-inch erection was being squeezed into a metal cock cage only three inches long, and held down cruelly between his legs.

Alexei rolled onto his side, opened his eyes and quickly discovered he was in the same predicament. The cameras should have been there. They missed the wonderful moment. Two horny pubescent boys realizing that they could not have erections.

"Shit! I can't get hard in this thing," Chris moaned. "Damn, that fuckin' hurts!"

Twelve-year-old Alexei, whose cock was about an inch shorter than Christopher's was suffering just as badly. His chastity device was a little bit smaller, and so it encased his smaller organ just as tightly and just as snuggly.

"Spikes!" Alexei shouted, trying in desperation to pull the thing off his genitals.

"We gotta get our dicks soft, Alexei," Chris said, on his feet now and prancing around the tiny cell.

"Da! Da!"

The two boys did a comical dance for a few minutes until their pubescent cocks finally began to deflate. With a loud sigh of relief Chris and Alexei both sat down on their bunks, crossing their slim hairless legs and not daring to touch their chastity devices.

"What the hell are we gonna do?" Chris asked.

Alexei shrugged his sinewy wrestler's shoulders. "We must not be getting hard," he said.

Chris shook his head. "Man, I have like ten erections a day. This thing is gonna kill me!"

Alexei leaned his bare back against the wall and closed his eyes. He hated that thing around his dick. The fact that he thought the thirteen-year-old American boy was incredibly cute wasn't going to make things any easier. Chris was thinking pretty much the same thing about Alexei. He wasn't really sure if he was gay or straight, but he knew he liked looking at other boys, and that sometimes he'd get a boner when he did. Sometimes he'd dream about them at night and wake up with his stomach all crusty with his cum.

Of course Chris was still a virgin, the only sex he'd ever had so far was with himself. He wasn't entirely sure exactly how it was supposed to work with two boys, but he had a fairly accurate idea. Tab A into Slot B. That sort of thing.

Alexei was definitely cute. He felt his cock stirring again as he looked at him. He leaned back against the cold cinder- block wall and closed his eyes too. 'Don't think about that stuff' he told himself. His penis returned to its soft four inches, and thankfully seemed content to stay that way.

The door to their cell was unlocked and swung open. One of the guards stepped into the cell.

"Looks like everyone's awake in here." The man gazed at the two naked boys. "On your feet."

Chris and Alexei slid off their bunks and stood side-by- side, their shoulders touching in the tight space between the beds. The guard looked down at the metal chastity devices encasing the young boys' genitals. "Having a hard time there, boys?" he asked with a wicked laugh.

"No, sir," Chris replied.

"Go out to the table and sit down. You can choose your seat."

There was a single long table, five round stools on each side. Chris took a seat at the end. Josh scurried over to get the one next to him before another boy could take it.

"Hey, squirt," Chris said softly as Josh sat down. His little brother looked strange in his leather chastity belt, with the metal plate completely covering his genitals.

"Hey," Josh said. His face was pale. His body was glistening with sweat. He had a shocked look on his face. He didn't know what to think about everything that had happened to him in the last twenty-four hours.

"You doin' okay?" his big brother asked.

"Guess so. I don't like this belt thing they put on me. My balls are like, way up inside me right now."

"Can you get hard?"

"Nope," Josh said, shaking his blond head.

"Me neither."

"It tries to," the eleven-year-old explained in his most studious manner, "but it can't go anywhere. There's little spikes or somethin' inside this thing."

"Mine's got spikes too. Hurts like hell."

"I wanna go home, Chris."

"Me too."

"But we can't, can we?"

"No, squirt. Not for a long time."

The guards wheeled in a cart and parked it close to the table. "Alright little boys," one of the female guards, a tall muscular black woman, said in a strict yet somehow motherly tone, "line up."

The boys all left their places and stood in line in front of the food cart. Ten growling stomachs belonging to ten starving hungry growing boys.

"Pour your own juice, grab the tray with your number from the box and sit down," the woman said. "You'll get your soup when all your little white butts are back on your seats. No one eats until you're told. Hurry up now."

Josh was first in line and quickly got his food. Chris joined him at the table a few moments later. Alexei and Illya sat across from them. Phillipe Dulac, the French boy, was on Christopher's left. David Brown, Josh's partner, sat at the far end of the table with Ian Cloverdale, his fellow Aussie. The two English boys and Danny O'Hanlon, the red- haired Canadian, took up the remaining empty spaces.

The boys' supper consisted of the small plastic glass of fruit juice, which each boy poured for himself from a cooler, two slices of brown bread, half of an apple, and a piece of something that appeared to be meatloaf. It was, in fact, a special mixture of soy, tofu, vegetable paste and lentils that was designed to ensure each boy remained on a high-protein, low-fat diet. A bowl of rice and noodle soup was ladled out and placed in front of each boy.

This would be the boys' supper for the duration of their servitude. The dinner menu would never change, although the younger boys would always receive less on their tray than the older ones. Sharing was not allowed.

The boys sat still in front of their bowls and trays, waiting for permission to begin. Josh noticed there were no utensils and pointed this out to his brother. The female guard, who appeared to be in charge of the others, overhead the little boy's comment.

"That's right, sweetie," the black woman said. "You eat with your hands or you don't eat at all."

The boys looked up at her from the table. She was tall, young, and very muscular. And she was indeed very much in charge of the barracks and everything that happened inside it. "Listen closely, little gladiators, I'm the matron here," she said. "You don't need to know my name. From nine- thirty at night until eight in the morning you boys belong to me and my guards. You will call me 'Ma'am'. I don't care what happens to you outside these walls. When you are in the barracks, you will follow my rules. You don't want me giving a bad report to your trainers, do you?"

"No, ma'am!" a chorus of ten boys shouted out.

The matron smiled. "I see they've already put you in your chastity devices. Poor little naked white boys, little white penises all locked up." The matron apparently found the boys' state of affairs very amusing. "Alright, you can eat. You're allowed to talk, but you are to keep your voices down. None of us here are interested in anything you boys have to say. Now eat. You have thirty minutes."

The boys didn't do much talking at first. They were all starving and gulped their food down like ravenous animals. The matron and the three other guards on duty left them alone.

"What kind of things you guys think they'll make us do?" Danny O'Hanlon asked, darting his bright green eyes around the table.

"Hope there's lots of wrestling," Josh answered with enthusiasm and a mouth full of food.

They all went around the table, talking up their skills in their best sports. Chris, David, and Ian were all champion swimmers for their age groups. Josh, Alexei, and Danny were fierce wrestlers. Danny in fact had not lost a match since he was eight. Phillipe was a diver who almost qualified for the 2038 Olympics at age thirteen. Miles was a runner, and of course a top-notch cricket player. Illya's sport of choice was gymnastics. Gabriel Shelton, who seemed to be a boy of few words, excelled at soccer and rugby.

Needless to say, all the boys hoped that their sport would be heavily featured in the competitions. Sadly, the boys' definition of sport, and the definition favored by William Durand and Extreme Action Broadcasting would prove to be quite different.

Every tray was clean and every bowl was empty when the matron announced that feeding time was over. The boys were made to stand beside their stools and hold their hands open, palms up, to ensure none of them were trying to keep any food with them. They were then ordered to line up once again and return their trays, glasses and bowls to the cart.

"You have bathroom time for the next fifteen minutes. Do whatever you need to do."

Ian Cloverdale raised his hands. "Ma'am?" he asked, with his eyes lowered in embarrassment.

"What is it, Zero-Three?"

"How do I . . . I mean, how are Josh 'n Miles 'n me supposed to pee with these things over our privates?"

The matron smiled. "Spread your legs, Zero-Three. Zero-Two, crawl down underneath him and look up."

Ian spread his legs wide. Josh dropped to his hands and knees and crawled beneath his fellow eleven-year-old's legs. He looked up and smiled. "Hey, there's a little hole in the bottom of it!"

"That's right. Your pee will just drip right out. You three have to squat over the toilet though, or it'll spray all over the place. If any of you boys piss on my floor, you'll be licking it up, got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," the three youngest boys in their identical chastity belts replied.

"That goes for you big boys as well."

The older boys nodded somberly and as a group the ten boy gladiators hurried off to the bathroom. Two of the male guards went with them to keep the young teens and pre-teens in line. The urinal was simply a trench in the floor with water constantly trickling through it. Chris found he had to hold the metal cage around his penis with both hands to aim it properly. With the guards watching over him, it took him a few moments, but soon his strong yellow stream was splashing into the trough.

"Aaahhhh," he groaned as he took his piss.

Similar sighs and moans of relief were heard right down the line as the seven older boys locked in their cock-cages finally got to relieve their bladders. Chris quickly discovered that it helped shrink his dick a little bit more, so that the chastity device was not quite so tight. Josh, Ian and Miles squatted over the three toilets, draining the urine from their young bodies. Josh could feel the triangular metal plate filling up with his warm pee. It felt neat, all that warm liquid against his soft penis. It emptied out quickly though. He could hear it dribbling into the bowl.

While he was washing his hands he took a moment to try to splash some clean water up into the little hole at the bottom of the plate covering his genitals. He was uncircumcised and his mom and dad had drilled it into his head since he was five that he had to keep his penis very clean. It bothered him a lot that he couldn't. He felt dirty.

The older boys were able to splash water over their chastity cages and clean off their dicks. The younger boys could neither see nor touch their penises. It seemed rather unfair to Josh, especially since he could think of no reason why he should have to wear the thing in the first place.

"Sir, what if I get an infection down there?" he asked one of the guards who was standing near him. He did not notice that the man was staring rather hungrily at his cute perky eleven-year-old butt and his slim, shapely, hairless legs.

"You'll get a chance to shower tomorrow, kid," the man said. "And we'll make sure you get your little pecker nice and clean."

Josh wasn't sure he liked the way the man said that.

The ten young gladiators returned to the common area and stood at attention as the guards locked the boys' shackles around their wrists and ankles. The weight of the chains was still giving most of them problems. The boys were then told to stand next to their partner. They shuffled around for a few moments, the chains at their ankles clinking and clanking on the floor, until they were all once again in their assigned pairs.

Chris once again found himself chained at the neck to Alexei. The four remaining pairs were connected in the same way. It was hardest for Miles and Phillipe. The ten-year-old was very small, barely four feet high. Fourteen-year-old Phillipe, while certainly a slim wisp of a boy, stood five feet four inches tall. The chain itself was only two feet long. Phillipe had to bend down awkwardly, and Miles had to stretch his slender frame, almost standing on his toes.

Josh and David had a similar problem although the difference in their height was not so pronounced.

All of the other pairs seemed to be reasonably compatible in height, and as long as they stood shoulder to shoulder the boys could keep a comfortable amount of slack in the unforgiving chain.

"I hope we don't have to run in these things," Phillipe told his junior partner. His English was good, if heavily accented.

Little Miles nodded. Like all proud Englishmen he was not particularly fond of things French, but Phillipe was his partner rather he liked it or not. "Just don't drag me along behind you when you start moving," Miles said. "I'm a good runner. I'll keep up. Deal?"

The chained boys shook hands.

"Deal."

The trainers entered the barracks in their gray military- styled uniforms. Each of them held an object in their hand. It appeared to be a baton, two feet long. Jason Sanborne, who turned out to be the head trainer, addressed the ten naked boys as they stood chained to their partners.

"Has anyone seen one of these before?" he asked, holding up the baton and flexing it slightly between his hands.

The boys all shook their heads.

"It is called a prod. It is very useful for making sure boys behave themselves and do as they are told. I will demonstrate."

He stepped forward and stopped in front of Chris and Alexei. He locked his eyes on his thirteen-year-old charge. He spoke to him softly. "You've done nothing wrong," he told the boy, "but I need to make an example for the others and its going to be you." He opened the padlock that held the chain around Alexei's collar. The chain fell free and now hung heavy from Christopher's neck. Jason grabbed the chain and dragged Chris forward with it.

Chris had to stand there in front of all the other boys and all the trainers and guards. He put his hands behind his head when he was told to. He spread his feet as far as the chains between his shackled ankles would allow. Jason then pressed the end of the prod into the boy's taut stomach.

A mild electric shock hit him and he yelped and jumped back.

"Don't move, Zero-Seven!" Sanborne yelled. "That was the medium setting. It gets worse." He touched Chris with the prod again, this time in the abdomen, just above the thirteen-year-old's little tuft of pubic hair. This time Chris squealed and shrieked. It was a good thing he'd just pissed, because he lost control of his bladder and a small sprinkle of pee sprayed out his penis.

"Lick that up, you filthy animal!" his trainer shouted.

Chris glared back at him in defiance. He was NOT going to lick up his own piss off the floor. "No," he said softly.

Jason wasted no time continuing the lesson in front of the boys. He swung the prod hard and cracked it across the front of Christopher's thighs. The prod had a slight elasticity to it, much like a cane. It left an angry red welt. Chris shouted against the pain. "I won't do it, sir! No matter how hard you hit me."

"You have no idea how hard I can hit you, boy." Jason struck him again, this time across his shoulders.

Chris was staggered by the blow and lost his balance for a moment. Natasha, Alexei's trainer stepped in and grabbed him under his arm, holding him steady for the next blow, which fell across the backs of his thighs. Chris was screaming now as Jason began to beat him mercilessly with the prod, occasionally jamming the electrified end into his flesh. The rest of the boys stood in stunned silence. Josh was the first one to start crying, but soon all of them had moist eyes, watching the thirteen-year-old being repeatedly hit with that horrible stick.

Finally Chris dropped to his hands and knees. He found the tiny little puddle of piss that he'd squirted out onto the floor. With his arms trembling he lowered himself until his lips touched the concrete. He licked up his pee with his tongue. It was the most humiliating thing he'd ever had to do. He was crying.

"Stand up," Jason said.

"I . . . can't, sir," Chris replied. There was no defiance in his voice. He simply could not stand up.

Natasha helped him, again gripping her strong hands under his arms and lifting him to his feet. A wicked grin crossed her face. "Naughty boy. Your penis is getting hard, isn't it?"

Chris didn't know what she was talking about. He was scared and hurt and embarrassed and . . .

'Oh my god!'

His cock was swelling up inside the chastity device. Chris was totally confused. How could his penis want to get hard after all that? He felt the spikes digging in to his boy- meat and groaned in agony.

The other boys just looked on in silence. Sorry and embarrassed for Chris but really happy it wasn't them standing there.

"Do any of you have any questions?" Jason Sanborne asked.

"No, sir!" the boys all shouted in unison.

Jason placed the prod lengthwise under Christopher's chin and raised the boy's eyes to his own. "You're confused about that, aren't you?" he asked, gesturing down to the painful hardness cruelly caged between the thirteen-year-old's legs.

Chris nodded.

"I will teach you." He handed Chris a tissue. "Now wipe your eyes and blow your nose and go back to your partner. You were very brave. I am proud of you. But do not ever tell me 'no' again. I am the head trainer. Any thing you do wrong reflects badly on me. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." Chris did as he was told, handing Jason the soiled tissue with a meager smile.

"Alright, gladiators," Jason shouted, "your training begins tonight."

The ten naked boys were marched out of their barracks and into the training facility. The camera crew was already set up to record them being brought in, naked, collared and chained, each boys' genitals locked in a chastity device. The crew made sure they good close-ups of each boy's cute, innocent face, panning slowly, artfully, down the length of their slim, hairless nude bodies. The first live broadcast was still more than a week away, but 'film everything' was the general standing order for the camera crews. It would all be edited and compiled and incorporated into the live footage of the contests. There would be no aspect of the boys' lives that would not be open for the consumption of a rabid public.

The chains that bound each of the boys to their partners were removed, as were the chains connecting their shackles. The trainers then led the boys through an intense regime of calisthenics. Jumping jacks, toe-touches, deep knee bends, and sit-ups. Chris got to hold Josh's ankles for him while the eleven-year-old completed the demanding set of one hundred abdominal crunches. Chris couldn't help but notice how muscular his little brother had become recently. His stomach was now as flat and well defined as Christopher's own. They switched places after Josh finished his hundred. Chris, being older, was required to do one hundred and fifty. All the boys were quite tired when they were made to do push-ups. Seventy-five for the boys twelve and younger, one hundred for the thirteen and fourteen year olds. The grueling exercise was made even more difficult as each boy had his trainer's foot pressed between his shoulders.

"I want to see those little muscles straining," a very sadistic Hannah Dubose told a very sweaty and very tired Joshua. He'd already managed to do twenty-three push-ups with the grown woman's booted foot pressing down on him.

"Aw, come on, ma'am," the eleven-year-old protested as he lay on his stomach trying to catch his breath. "Let me up! It isn't fair."

"Poor baby. Keep going. And since you think it's unfair, you can do one hundred just like the older boys."

"Awww," Josh moaned, but he did keep going. He didn't dare not to. His trainer was the most scary woman he'd ever met.

"Stand up," Jason ordered, removing his foot from Christopher's back after the boy had finished his last push up. Chris groaned and got to his feet. From head to toe his entire body was covered with a fine sheen of boyish sweat. The training room was hot, the only relief coming from fans in the ceiling. They did little to cool the boys down after their intense warm-ups. Jason handed Chris a bottle of water. "Don't drink it too fast or you'll get cramps."

The boy swallowed in big desperate gulps. He was so thirsty. Jason pulled the bottle away from the boy's lips.

"That's enough for now. You can have more later. Lets get you on the weight machine."

Jason had the thirteen-year-old sit down on the bench. Standing in front of his young charge, he locked the boy's ankles to the leg press. "Lean back," he said, resting his hands on the boy's firm, smooth, hairless thighs.

Chris sat back until he came in contact with the backrest. Jason drew a wide leather belt around the young teenager's waist and tightened it.

"Grab the bar over your head," he ordered.

Chris did as he was told and watched in silence as his trainer locked his shackled wrists to the bar with a pair of padlocks.

"How many keys do you have for me, sir?" Chris asked, looking hard at large ring of keys in Jason Sanborne's hands. He gave his trainer a little smile.

"Enough to make sure you always stay exactly where I put you, Zero-Seven. Now lets see how strong you are. I'll adjust the weights for you. Can you pull that bar down to your chest?"

Chris straightened his back a little, gripped the ends of the bar with his hands, and pulled down in a smooth, fluid motion, his small firm young muscles barely straining. "Not a problem, sir," he said with boyish teenaged confidence.

"Didn't think it would be. Now your legs."

Chris took a breath and raised the leg press with little effort, straightening his handsome legs and locking his knees before lowering them again. "Easy."

"Good. Let me add some weight . . . "

Chris heard the pins being pulled and replaced.

"That should give those nice little muscles a good workout. Arms down, legs up, keep going until I tell you to stop."

Chris went to work with the machine, discovering that Jason had added quite a bit of weight, especially on his arms. After about ten repetitions, Chris was panting and sweating and struggling to keep his rhythm.

"Alright. Slow down," his trainer said. "You've never been on one of these before, have you?"

"No, sir. I've done free weights with my dad. That's about it."

"You need to learn to control your breathing. You're wasting all your energy. You're a swimmer. How do you breathe when you're really racing hard?"

"Depends on the stroke, sir," Chris answered, still fighting to catch his breath. "Mostly I breathe between strokes."

"It's the same thing on the machine. Breath goes in before you press, breath goes out when you go back up. Now try again."

Chris had better luck this time around. Soon he had established a good, quick rhythm. He could see and feel the strain in his muscles, but it wasn't more than he could handle. In fact, as tired and scared as he was about everything that was happening, it felt good to be working his young muscles, tightening his already trim and athletic body. The machine was a temporary escape, and he was actually starting to feel pretty good about things.

"Stop. Time to add more weight," Jason said with a smile.

Chris stopped and waited, taking time to look around the room. Danny O'Hanlon and Illya Casparev were on the other two weight machines. Josh, Miles, and Alexei, were all on the treadmills, running as fast as they could. Their wrists were chained to the handles of the three machines. Gabriel, David, and Phillipe were strapped down to the rowing machines, struggling to maintain the rapid pace their trainers were shouting out for them. Ian Cloverdale was getting his first lesson with the free weights. His trainer, a young black man named Anthony, made sure the boy maintained a perfect posture by continually swatting the eleven-year-old's rear end with the prod.

"Stand up straight, boy," Anthony said with an English accent. "You don't want to find out what the end of this thing feels like, do you?"

Ian, locked in his chastity belt with the metal plate snuggly covering his genitals, vigorously shook his head. Just like Josh and Miles, the chastity belt made the eleven- year-old appear to be completely flat between his legs, no little bulge at all, as if he didn't even have a penis and testicles down there.

Chris was brought back to attention by a sharp crack of the prod on his left thigh.

"Don't let your eyes wander, Zero-Seven," his trainer said sternly. "I expect your full attention at all times. Now start again."

This time the weight was really too much for Chris to handle. He couldn't budge the leg press at all. He managed three weak repetitions on his arms. Jason could see from the pained look on the boy's face that this was beyond him.

"That's almost twice your body weight, boy," he said, playfully tussling the thirteen-year-old's blond hair. "You'll get there eventually. I'll set it back a bit. I want fifty reps, then you can have some water and take a break, before I chain you to the treadmill."

"Gee, thanks," Chris said under his breath.

"I heard that, Zero-Seven. You can give me ten extra repetitions for being such a little smart ass."

"Sorry, sir," Chris said, casting his blue eyes to the floor.

'Not as sorry as you will be,' Jason Sanborne thought to himself with great pleasure.