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He moved in front of the desk. My head was level with his crotch, about three feet away. I took in the outline of his substantial bulge.
"Look up at me, Jimmy," he said, snapping me back to reality. "Recite what you just wrote, without the number at the front or the 'sir' at the end."
"Yes sir," I replied, my field of vision dominated by his bulge and his hard face. "I am not a Man. I was never a Man. I will never be a Man. Every Man is my superior. I will spend my life in the service to the Men I cannot be. I will honor and obey Men, without question or reservation, in any manner that they might require."
"Now write: 2. I am a weak, cowardly, lying, conniving, disobedient little boy."
"Yes sir," I said, and wrote it.
Now recite it to me, just as you recited the first item," he said.
"I am a weak, cowardly, lying, conniving, disobedient little boy," I replied. I felt tears welling from the humiliation. One rolled down my cheek. Tommy knelt beside me again and put his arm around my shoulder.
"I know this isn't easy, Jimmy," he said gently, "but you need to remember what you are why you are here."
Tears ran down my face, and my ears burned from humiliation and embarrassment. Tommy's words both soothed and deepened my humiliation. As he rubbed my shoulder, it felt like he was gently "rubbing it in," but in a way that I couldn't resist.
I felt the urge to urinate, and along with it, panic at the thought of ruining another uniform.
"Sir, may I please urinate?" I pleaded. "I don't want to soil my uniform, sir."
"Jimmy, nothing belongs to you," he said.
"I'm sorry, sir," I said, my voice rising. "I want to keep the uniform clean, sir."
"That's much better," he said. "Permission granted, but don't linger."
"Yes sir," I replied. "Thank you, sir!"
I was back in an instant.
"Sit back down, Jimmy," he said. "There's more."
"Yes sir," I replied, and sat back at the desk.
"Skip two lines, and write, in capital letters: A TRAINEE'S RIGHTS. This is what you recited this afternoon."
"Yes, sir," I replied, and did so.
"Skip one line and write, The Trainee has the right to food, shelter, clothing while in a public setting, and medical attention when sick or injured. Everything else is a privilege," he said.
"Yes, sir," I replied, and did so.
"Now look in my eyes and read it back to me, again without the 'Sir' this time," he said.
I looked up, and read: "The Trainee has the right to food, shelter, clothing while in a public setting, and medical attention when sick or injured. Everything else is a privilege."
"Skip two lines and write in capital letters: A TRAINEE'S RESPONSIBILITIES," he said.
"Yes, sir," I replied, and did so.
"Now write, 1. The Trainee will conform his thoughts, words, and actions to his place among Men," he said.
"Yes, sir," I replied, and did so.
"Write: 2. The Trainee will obey the letter and spirit of all laws, rules, regulations, and orders made or given by Men," he said.
"Yes, sir," I replied, and wrote the words.
"Now write: 3. The Trainee will report any of his violations or shortcomings to Captain Richards," he said.
"Yes, sir," I replied, following his command. So I have to tell on myself, I thought.
"Now write: 4. The Trainee will never communicate with anyone about any aspect of the Corrective Training Program, or about his training supervisors."
"Yes sir," I said, and wrote the words.
As before, I had to read everything back while looking straight into his eyes. He caught me looking at his dick again. Another Tommy Smile. Damn!
"Turn the page, and write up at the top, in capital letters: A TRAINEE'S DAILY RULES," he said.
"Yes, sir," I replied, and did so.
"Write: 1. The Trainee will address his training superiors as 'Captain Richards' or 'Captain Tinley,' or 'Sir,' as the situation dictates," he said.
"Yes sir," I replied, and did so.
"Write: 2. The Trainee will refer to himself as 'The Trainee' unless otherwise directed," he said.
"Yes sir," I said, and wrote the words.
"Write: 3. The Trainee will keep the quarters clean, according to the schedule set forth," he said.
"Yes sir," I replied, and wrote the words.
"Write: 4. The Trainee will keep all uniforms and uniform items in top condition," he said.
"Yes sir," I said, and wrote it down.
"Like I told you before, Captain Tinley is awfully fixed on his boots, and he's not real happy that you failed to shine them," he said.
Another stab of fear.
"Write: 5. A Trainee is forbidden to have erections."
"Yes sir," I said, softly.
"Write: 6. Every morning, the Trainee will exercise upon rising. He will return to quarters, clean himself, and recite MY PLACE AMONG MEN to Captains Tinley and Richards," he said.
"Yes sir," I said, and wrote the instruction.
"Write: 7. Every afternoon, the Trainee will clean himself, then perform chores. Nights will be used for study and other activities as directed," he said.
"Yes sir," I said, and did so.
"Write: 8. Before retiring, the Trainee will recite MY PLACE AMONG MEN to Captains Tinley and Richards," he said.
"Yes sir," I said, and wrote the words.
I read it all back, and finally it was over. I ached everywhere.
"Sir, may the Trainee stand up and walk?" I pleaded. "The Commandant's beating really hurt, sir."
"Now you can stretch out," he said, in a lighter tone. " While you're up, go get your bedroll. It' s in the closet with the uniforms. Roll it out in there, over by the window. Then strip. I'll be in to meet you."
"Yes sir," I replied. At one minute, I thought I was safe, but at the next minute, I thought I was going to be raped. Moments later, Tommy entered the room, carrying a tube of lotion.
"Okay, Jimmy, lie face down and let me have a look at you," he said, gently. I felt his hands roaming over my butt, stopping occasionally. He opened the tube and rubbed some cream on spots, and massaged it in. I relaxed, and felt an erection stirring, but I was greatly relieved when I was able to suppress it.
"Got a few bruises and scrapes here, but nothing serious," he said. "I think most of that stiffness came from fear. You'll be fine in a couple of days."
Yeah, I thought to myself, and a beating that hurt like crazy.
"Now roll over on your back and I'll put you through the stretches," he said, matter-of-factly. I hesitated for an instant.
"Look, Jimmy, think about it," he said, chuckling. "Do you think you were in more danger on your stomach or on your back? Roll over."
"Yes, sir," I replied, and rolled over. Tommy had no idea of the source of my reluctance. It wasn't worry about sexual assault, but embarrassment. Soft, my dick was less than two inches long. I had hardly any body hair to go with it, and my balls were undersized. I was 20 years old, going on 11.
He seemed to pay no mind to any of that, as he led me through a series of exercises to stretch out the muscles that had tightened during the Commandant's strapping. Do these as often as possible over the next couple of days, he said, and I'd be fine.
"Thank you, Tom ... sir," I said. "It already feels better than it did, sir."
"Now that you're out of your clothes, I might as well shave you down, at least what there is to shave," he said, with a chuckle. "Gotta go get the razor."
"Shave the Trainee, sir?" I said.
"Body hair's for Men, Jimmy," he called back over his shoulder. He was back in an instant, with an electric razor and a different bottle of lotion.
"Okay, Jimmy boy," he said. "I'll start up top. Take off your T-shirt."
"You're going to ... " I said, incredulous at the idea that Tommy was going to remove the hair from my body.
".... shave what hair you got," he said, completing the sentence. "Take off your T-shirt, lie down flat on your bedroll, and put your hands in back of your head so I can see your arm pits."
"Y-y-y-yes sir," I said, shakily, and moved to follow the order.
"That's a good boy," he said, with a smirk on his face. The remark, and the casual authority it conveyed, similar to that of a father's over a young son, hit hard. I felt another sob welling up inside as the reality of my situation hit home. From his confident smile, I could see that Tommy had noticed my discomfort, and took satisfaction in my deepening humiliation.
He clicked the razor, and started shaving. Within seconds, or so it seemed, he removed the small tufts from each armpit, and the traces from my chest and belly. I had spent years of obsession over that hair! It was my personal confirmation of the possibility of Manhood, something I had doubted for as long as I could remember.
Not only was it gone, but it was gone in an instant. More than one illusion was stripped, and I was lost in shame and embarrassment so intense as to defy my ability to really describe it, even now. As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my eyes drifted over toward Tommy's. He opened the bottle of lotion and rubbed some slippery liquid over the newly shaved areas. As he did so, he flashed his trademark grin, and it felt like my doom was sealed.
"See? That's not so tough, is it, Jimmy?" he asked.
"No sir," I said, in a voice that made clear that it was the hardest thing I had ever endured.
"Now I can start below," he continued. "Be a good boy and spread your legs."
"Yes sir," I said weakly.
I felt the razor on my pubic bone, and then his thumb and index finger lift my penis while he shaved. Then he did my balls, lifting them in various directions as he did so. All the while, I successfully fought off the beginnings of an erection. From there, he shaved the tops and insides of my thighs. Most of his efforts were theoretical, because I had hardly any hair to shave to begin with. He finished with lotion, but skipped my dick and balls. I was relieved to not have to fight off an erection.
"All done there," he said. "Now get on your knees and elbows, and put your butt up in the air."
The position was especially humiliating. I felt as if I was preparing to be screwed or something, so when all I felt was the razor on my butt, and then the back of my thighs, and up near my asshole, I was relieved. But the lotion treatment took an unexpected turn: He rubbed not just my butt and thighs, but also my balls and dick. It took every ounce of willpower to remain soft, but I did.
"Okey-doke, all done," he said cheerfully, adding an affectionate pat on my rear end as he finished. "Now I want you to be sure to keep yourself clean, inside and out. You're going to start obeying the rules right now."
"Yes sir," I said, glumly, as I stood.
Tommy could see a question forming on my face.
"What's the matter, Jimmy?" he asked, in a sincere tone.
"Sir, the Trainee doesn't understand about the enemas and removing his hair," I said, softly, staring at the floor.
I felt a slap on my face.
"Look at me, Jimmy," he said, sharply.
I looked at him through watery eyes.
"Recite your place among Men," he said. "Say it."
"I am not a Man. I was never a Man. I will never be a Man ..." I began.
"Time to talk turkey here, I guess," he said. "I don't know what you think you've got yourself into, but it's time you know."
"Sir?" I asked, my eyes wide.
"Did you think you'd be busted back to Candidate, graduate from Jackson, and live a regular life?" Tommy asked, in an irritated voice.
"No sir," I replied. "The Commandant said I'd have a military career as an officer's adjutant, and be bound to his service."
"Okay," he said, "then maybe you have an idea of what's in store, or at least some of it."
"The Trainee's not sure, sir," I replied, looking upward into his eyes.
"You asked me why the removal of body hair, and why the enemas," Tommy said. "I notice you didn't ask me why your erections are forbidden, and why you are required to report your failures."
"I ... the Trainee doesn't know why he didn't ask about those things, sir," I said.
"No Man would allow another Man to tell him what he could do with his dick, or order him to squirt water up his ass twice a day," Tommy said. "No Man would be ratting himself out to another Man."
He fell silent, and so did I. The words sank in. After a full minute or so, which felt more like a full hour or so, he spoke.
"Well?" he said. "Would he?"
"No sir," I replied, quietly.
"Jimmy, all of these things are to remind you of what you are, and what you are not," he said. "No hard-ons and no body hair, to remind you that you will always be a little boy. Enemas are about obedience. The telling on yourself is because you need supervision."
I remained silent.
"When you gave away your Manhood, it wasn't just some piece of paper you signed and some words you spoke," he said. "This is how you will live your life."
"Sir, I-I-the Trainee never thought about it," I said. "He had no idea it would be like this."
"Well, it is," Tommy snapped. "You are a weak, cowardly, lying, conniving, disobedient little boy. The academy tried to make you strong, but you failed. We tried to bring you along, but you failed. We couldn't turn a little boy into a Man, no matter what your father wanted."
"My-my-the Trainee's father, sir?" I asked, shakily. "What did he say, sir?"
"Your father was a Cadet Major and a decorated combat hero," Tommy said. "When he asked me, and the Commandant, and Cadet Tinley, to try and bring you along, it was our duty to try. So that's what we did. But you can't turn cowardice into bravery, or weakness into strength, or a boy into a Man."
"The Trainee's father wanted ..." I began.
"... you to succeed here," Tommy interrupted. "He is a tough Man, and that's all he knew. It's why he was tough with you as a kid. I could see a long time ago that it didn't work with you. When you landed here I thought cutting you some slack might help."
The last year or so became clearer. On so many occasions, Tommy and Big Dog had protected me.
"But Jimmy, you always failed," Tommy said. "I felt sorry for you, and convinced the Commandant and Captain Tinley that you needed more time. But the towel was the end. It was a test of Manhood, and you failed."
"Yes sir," I replied, slowly and softly. "I ... the Trainee can see what the Captain means."
"When you told us you were going to report us to the Commandant, we went to him," Tommy said. "We spent hours talking about you. He wanted to bust you straight to Trainee, but I convinced him to give you a choice. I thought you deserved that much, considering how hard your growing up was."
"Thank you, sir," I said, feeling a surge of gratitude. "The Trainee never knew."
"The Commandant always thought you'd stay," Tommy said. "I wasn't sure, and neither was Captain Tinley. I just wanted to be sure that you knew what a Trainee really is. I even convinced him to delay the final choice until after he beat you up."
I stayed silent, not knowing what to say.
"I don't really know why you chose to stay on," Tommy said. "You are way beyond breaking a bunch of rules, or letting your father down. You'll never be a Man. This is the life you will lead, so you'd better find a way to get used to it."
"Yes sir," I said softly, as the enormity of my choice sank in.
"I can't make you brave or strong," Tommy said. "But with Captain Tinley's help I will make you well-behaved and obedient. You'll get it through your little head that your days of lying, conniving, disobedience are over with."
"Yes sir," I replied.
"You were never one of us," he added. "We lived as equals, but it was never true. You are not me, and you never will be."
"Yes sir," I replied.
"And the Commandant was right," Tommy said. "You'll be well-acquainted with the strap. I'm sure of it."
As he said it, I felt the stirrings of an erection, and the first bit of understanding why I had chosen to stay. A part of me knew that this life I had chosen wasn't a predicament, but a promise.
I'll never forget that first night.
"Hey Tommy, they gave us some good chow here," Big Dog called out. "Fried chicken, my favorite!"
"Alright!" Tommy replied, digging into the big bag he'd brought.
"Jimmy, get in here and set us a table," he called out to me. I had remained at attention in the common room, and hurried to the kitchen and stood at attention again.
"Trainee reporting as ordered, sir," I said.
Tommy pointed to the table.
"Set us up there," he said. "There's a wing on it, and that'll be your place to eat. Use the stool under the table to sit on. Set yourself up down there."
"Yes sir," I answered. As I did do, my heart sank once more. The table wing was small, and six inches lower than the table. The stool was tiny. The whole place was set up to reduce my status.
"Plates, forks, knives, glasses, and napkins for us, and a bowl, a spoon, a napkin, and a glass for you," Big Dog said. "You don't eat our food."
"Yes sir," I replied, softly.
I set the places, and saw Big Dog frowning.
"You didn't wash your hands, shithead!" he yelled. "Don't you know better than to wash your dirty little hands?"
"I'm sorry ..." I started.
"The Trainee is sorry, sir!" he barked.
"The Trainee is sorry, sir," I repeated.
"Take our stuff away, wash your hands, and set it again!" he said, coldly. "Leave your own stuff. You can eat your own filth."
"Yes sir," I replied, taking their dishes, glasses, and silverware back to the sink. I saw a bottle on the counter marked "Hands," and squirted some of the diluted soap inside on my hands, and washed them.
"Use the towel on the lower rack to dry off," Big Dog called back. "The one with the yellow stripe. All of your towels are on lower racks, with yellow stripes."
"Yes sir," I replied.
I got new place settings, and put them back on the table, and stood at attention. First they sat down. I remained standing.
"Sit," Big Dog said, and I did.
We started to eat. Theirs smelled delicious: Chicken, mashed potatoes, beans, bread and butter, milk, and pie. After that day, I needed a big dinner as much as I'd ever needed it. But I got nothing but a bowl of lukewarm soup, and a glass of water.
"Welcome to the first meal of the rest of your time here, squirt," Big Dog said, sarcastically. "That mush will keep you alive, anyway."
"Yes sir," I replied.
"You'll get filled in on all the details tomorrow, but I can tell you a few things now," he continued. "Trainees are to be seen and not heard. No talking in class, no talking to other Trainees. No talking to cadets, unless you're spoken to. Got it, squirt?"
"Yes sir," I replied.
"In this house, you talk to me only if you have to," he continued. "This makes Captain Richards your go-to Man to pour your little heart and soul out to. Which is just as well, because he's the only Man here who can stand the sight of you. Understood?"
"Yes sir," I replied. I breathed a sigh of relief to myself. He wasn't the one who'd pissed on me and hit me, and yelled at me, and called me names. He'd even tried to make sure I wanted to stay, out of concern for my welfare.
"Fuck it up with me, and when it's all over you can run to Captain Richards and cry on his shoulder, but fuck it up with Captain Richards and they'll be carrying you out of here in a coffin or a straitjacket, you hear?" he said.
"Yes sir," I said.
Tommy cleared his throat.
"Don't start thinking that I'm your mommy," he said. "Captain Tinley's word is law, same as mine."
"Yes sir," I said. "I'll remember, sir."
Big Dog leaned over and rapped my head. He used his knuckles, and it hurt. I flinched, and rubbed my head.
"You'd better learn quick that 'I' isn't a word you use any more!" he barked.
"Yes sir," I replied. "The Trainee will remember, sir!"
"You'd best do that," Tommy said. "When we're done eating, and you've cleaned everything up, I want you to study that notebook and think about your place. You've got a whole lot to learn."
"Yes sir, I ... the Trainee does have a lot to learn, sir," I replied.
They resumed their meal, and so did I. As I ate the gruel in silence, a piece of half-eaten meat plopped into my bowl, thrown there by Big Dog.
"Commandant said it'd be a good idea if we'd give the squirt a bite or two," he said. "The scraps are good for him."
"Yeah, I'd hate to eat nothing but that crap," Tommy said. He had finished almost everything on his plate, but held it over my bowl and scraped leftovers into it. Glumly, I kept eating.
"What do you say, squirt?" Big Dog barked.
"Thank you, sir," I replied.
"Damn right," he said, sarcastically. "You're lucky I didn't piss in there this time, 'cause you'd eat that too. Understood?"
"Yes sir," I replied. Jesus, I am a boy and a squirt and not a Man, and now a dog, I thought, as I sat on the verge of tears.
"Oh yeah, something else," Big Dog said to Tommy. "The Commandant gave me a bunch of candy. When the weakling does good, he's supposed to get some. His goal is supposed to be to earn a candy bar every day for good behavior."
"You know, Dog, he hasn't done too bad today, all things considered," Tommy said. "You've got to admit, it hasn't exactly been the best Monday of this boy's life."
"Hmm," Big Dog grunted, and got up from the table. "Candy's in the bag on the counter, anyway. I'm gonna go clean up."
"Get all this stuff washed and dried, and wipe the counters down," Tommy said. "Since this is the first day, you can start the usual cleaning routines tomorrow. Tonight, you study your notebook and the cleaning routines laid out in the closet. When you run in the morning, do a half-mile on the track. That's two laps. Then come in and clean yourself. You'll be reciting what we talked about starting tonight, and then twice a day starting tomorrow. Understood?"
"Yes sir," I said.
"Okay, then get to it," he replied. He grabbed the bag of candy from the counter and turned to leave.
"Sir?" I asked. "Can the Trainee say something, sir?"
"What is it?" he replied.
"Thank you, sir," I said, looking into his eyes. It was more of a plea than anything.
"Yeah, well don't fuck up," he replied, with a hard stare. "I'm the only chance you've got."
"Yes sir, I ... the Trainee will remember, sir," I replied.
He wasn't going to be my friend, but he wouldn't be my enemy either. Not like Big Dog, who wanted me dead. Exactly what Tommy would be, I couldn't say, except that he was my only hope for survival.
As I worked, I heard Tommy moving around in the one bedroom, settling in. Big Dog was in the shower, singing. He emerged, not wearing a stitch. I glanced over an involuntarily gasped. His soft dick was gigantic. Much bigger than mine ever was hard. I quickly looked away, but he had caught me.
"Can't stop lookin' at it, can ya, squirt?" he said, laughing as he walked past me. "Take care of my uniform. It's hanging in the bathroom."
"Yes sir," I said.
I found his clothes in the bathroom, and realized that I didn't know what to do with them. Panicked, I ran to the laundry room and found the instructions for cleaning everything. Thankfully, "uniform care" was at the beginning of the manual. I carefully removed ribbons and rank insignia from his used shirt, and set them on a shelf. I put the shirt in one hamper and his t-shirt, shorts, and socks in another. I was supposed to hang the trousers up, but didn't know where, and I wasn't sure what to do with the belt. As I did so, I smelled his musk on the clothing, and it intoxicated me.
I carefully draped the trousers over my arm, and coiled the belt into my hand, and went to his room. He was at his dresser, arranging his things. I stopped at the threshold.
"The Trainee requests permission to enter, sir, and to ask a question," I said. He was still naked. It was an effort not to stare, but I resisted.
"What is it, squirt?" he said. As he turned to face me, his big dick slapped against his leg.
"Should the Trainee hang the trousers in your closet, sir?" I asked.
"Yeah, do it," he said. "They'll be putting you on laundry duty for a while so you can learn how to take care of our stuff."
It was yet another reminder of my low status. At the academy, civilian women laundered, pressed, and starched cadets' uniforms. Here, I'd be doing it.
"What should the Trainee do with your belt, sir?" I asked.
"Stick it on top of the dresser for now, but tomorrow you arrange everything and make sure I've got what I need," he said.
"Yes sir," I replied.
"Now get the fuck out of here," he growled.
"Yes sir," I said, and left quickly.
I went to the other room. Tommy had left, and I could hear him in the shower. I could see that he had thrown his uniform on his bed. I went to the bathroom door, and knocked.
"What is it?" I heard him call out.
"Sir, you left your uniform on your bed," I said from outside the door. "Can the Trainee hang up your trousers and put the rest with the other laundry, sir?"
"Go ahead," he replied.
"What should I ... the Trainee do with your belt, sir?" I asked.
"Coil it up and leave it on top of the dresser," he replied. "Hang my pants in the closet next to everything else."
"Yes sir," I said, and repeated what I had done with Big Dog's clothing. Tommy's masculine smell intoxicated me just as much. When I reached the laundry room, I took a deep breath through my nose and reveled in the odor. When I felt myself getting hard, I fought the impulse and turned away, only to see Tommy standing in back of me, naked.
Like Big Dog, he was much taller than me. Hair spread across his chest, and a trail down to his navel and below. His soft dick was outlandishly large too. Neither his nor Big Dog's body was new to me, but after the events of the day it was striking. As I struggled to retain my composure, he flashed another Tommy Smile.
"Just curious?" he said, with a chuckle, and then turned away.
I went to my small desk in the common area and, after getting permission to sit down, studied the notebook I had written at Tommy's direction, along with the directions for cleaning everything in the quarters that I had taken from the laundry room. Meanwhile, Tommy and Big Dog had put on what we (when I was a cadet, and was part of "we") had joked was "the official loungewear of Jackson Military Academy": camouflage pants, combat boots, and white t-shirts.
"Hey brother, what do ya say we try some of that bourbon, then call it a night?" he said.
"Sounds good to me, Dog," Tommy answered. I had always been jealous of their easy camaraderie, and my new status made it far worse. Tommy turned to me.
"You stay inside and study your notebook and your cleaning manual," he said.
"Yes sir," I replied.
I heard them in the kitchen pouring their drinks. A minute or two later, they walked through the common area and out to the back porch. Tommy had lit his cigar, and it smelled good. They kept the door open while they chatted. Eventually, the conversation drifted toward their new assignment: me. They commiserated about the difficulty of it: The remoteness from campus, missing their buddies, the frequent interaction with the Commandant, the imposition on their time.
"Yeah, so we're going to be Tops," Tommy said. "But Dog, do you realize what a pain in the ass this will be?"
"My dad always told me the worst thing you can get is a promotion," Big Dog said, with a laugh.
"There is one bright side to it, Dog," Tommy said. "The Commandant told me it'd be okay if I wear a cowboy hat with my uniform, as long as it's gray. And he's going to get me one, believe it or not."
"Well I'll be damned!" Big Dog said.
"Privilege of being a Top," Tommy replied. "That's not bad, huh? And he says I can smoke cigars outdoors on campus."
"Outstanding!" Big Dog exclaimed, laughing. "I guess the Commandant wants my brother to be a big swingin' dick!"
"Oh yeah, and also in the good news column, Jimmy told me he's not queer," Tommy said.
I heard Big Dog laugh.
"He ain't queer?" he said. "Yeah, and I'm the King of England!"
The whole idea of it revolted me. Sure, I stared at dicks. Mine was short, so I stared at them. But the erection I got when I was yelled at for the towel wasn't part of me. It just happened. Being queer wasn't just wrong, it was the worst thing in the world. No way was I queer.
I was shocked to hear Tommy defend me.
"Dog, I've to say that I have reconsidered all that," Tommy said, thoughtfully. "I know how it looks with Jimmy boy. I figured him for queer too, but I think there's another explanation."
"This ought to be good!" Big Dog said, still laughing.
"Bear with me, Dog," Tommy said. "When I was a little kid, I remember getting hardons when I did something wrong. It was a fear deal. There was never any sex in it at all."
"Hmm, you've got a point there, I guess," Big Dog said, reluctantly. "But the squirt in there is what, 20 years old? A little different, wouldn't ya say?"
"Not so sure about it, Dog," Tommy replied. "I shaved him today, and I'm here to tell ya that there wasn't barely anything to shave. He really is a little boy, y'know? It's why he's here right now, Dog."
"So he's not queer, but he's actually eight years old going on 20. Is that what you're saying?" Big Dog replied, skeptically.
"You got it, brother!" Tommy answered. "I think Jimmy's hardons are like the one I got when I was seven years old and my pa caught me smoking that cigar."
Big Dog laughed at the story.
"You told me about your first cigar at the age of seven, but not about the hardon that came with it," he said. "Christ, no wonder you like your cigars. You still get stiff when you smoke, brother?"
"Not usually," Tommy said, with a chuckle. "Y'know, Dog, my pa didn't catch me with the cigar. He caught me with the hardon, and knew that I must have done something wrong and scary because that's why little boys get hardons. Eventually I told him about the cigar."
"Hmm, that kinda makes sense," Big Dog said. "Same thing happened to me when I took the next-door kid's bike. And I'd constantly get hardons during fights. Maybe you got a point about the squirt here. But look, what's with him checking guys out all the time, then?"
"Dog, I asked him about that and he says curiosity," Tommy replied. "When I was a little kid, I checked out the big dudes all the time. They were like supermen to me. Maybe that's what's going on with Jimmy, huh?"
"I still think the squirt's queer for my gear, but maybe this idea that it's 'cause he's a little boy works too," he said. Then he chuckled. "Maybe he's a queer little boy, Tommy. Ever think about that?"
I heard Tommy's easy laugh in response.
"Dog, you crack me up," he said. "Anyway, it don't matter much. Hardons are a Man's world. Little fella gets one, and he gets the strap. Don't much matter why he got it."
"You got that right, brother," Big Dog replied.
Tommy glanced at his watch, and yawned. It was 1930. He'd been up since 500, and there wouldn't be much time to hit the books before lights-out at 2100.
"We only got an hour and a half, Dog," he said. "We'd better crack some books, brother."
That first week was tough. So much had been thrown at me. Thankfully, the cleaning schedule wasn't as difficult as I thought it'd be. During the week, it took about an hour. Saturday called for a thorough cleaning, Sunday morning called for church, and Sunday afternoon was unscheduled, so I used it to study. Big Dog even showed me how to put a six-inch shine on his boots, which wasn't as tough as it had seemed.
But there were some rough patches. Big Dog wasted no chance to slap me on the head, to yell at me, and to berate me. Jimmy would see it, and offer some soothing words, but always in a way that seemed to twist the knife a little bit.
It was both predictable and random. Lights out was at 9 a.m., reveille at 5 a.m. – an hour earlier than in the dorms, to account for our distance. Except for the one days a week when I reported for elementary combat training, I was required to return straight to our quarters for chores, which including doing their laundry and shining their boots and brass.
I never really knew when one or both of them would be there, or would pop in, so I always had to be on my toes. And when they did appear, I never knew what might happen. Would they calmly do homework? Or would Big Dog find some reason to come after me?
Life at the academy was especially tough. I had lost all status. I was literally invisible, with no one to talk to and nothing to say. Meals were filling, but tasteless, and laundry duty was humiliating. Even the civilian women avoided me, other than to give direct instructions on how to launder uniforms and starch in military creases. Professors who I had been friendly with didn't even look my way, and cadets averted their eyes.
I looked forward to my morning runs, which had been increased to a mile a day, as a chance to clear my head. And I found myself craving even the slightest words from Tommy. He was the only person who ever said anything to me other than to give an order. On the days when he judged my performance to be good, the reward of a candy bar ceased to be humiliating. Quickly, I found myself eager to hear the words, "good boy" come from him. It would mean a bit of conversation, and a candy bar, and some protection from Big Dog's whims.