Chapter 6

I woke up with someone manipulating my penis and scrotum. Yes, I used the Latin polysyllables. That's how it's done at military school. Someone was fondling me and it was nice. I groaned when someone breathed on my skin. Soft lips and a wet tongue caressed my corona.

"Tastes like chicken," Harmony commented.

Where had I heard that before?

"I can do this," Harmony continued. "Just as long as he doesn't choke me and pee in my mouth."

I was released.

"CADET THISTLE!" Commandant Mackie barked. "AYE-TEN-SHUN!"

I leaped from the bed, crashed into the wall, bounced to my feet and faced the general direction of the commandant's voice. My eyes weren't quite open and everything was fuzzy—I was still half asleep.

There was some giggling.

"Cadet," Commandant Mackie said solicitously, "I would be greatly honored if you will join us for dinner."

"SIR, YES, SIR!" I replied at full volume. I liked to think my voice was at least alto, but it was most likely a mousey soprano.

"This isn't the parade deck, Cadet," Mackie reminded me. "Use a conversational tone. Keep the volume medium."

"SIR—"I began, then shifted volume, "yes, sir."

The nice thing about being a Program participant is how rapidly one can be ready for an event. It's just a matter of wiping the face—no clothing to mess with. Since I was a cadet at Mackie, my hair was too short to mess up or mess with. Besides, Harmony helped me.

The dinner table was a step up from the institutional folding tables in the Mackie mess hall. Heavy, dark-stained wood of some kind with a white table cloth. The wooden chairs had small towels on the seats—all four of us were naked.

I described slender Harmony and stacked Miss Krystal. I was nothing much to look at—unless you are into young boys. I had seen the commandant in tight-fitting trunks before, but never totally naked. He had muscles on his muscles. Not a hair anywhere on his body. Compared to my boy junk, Commandant Johnny Mackie had an elephant's trunk and a pair of chicken eggs in a black skin sock dangling between his legs. But I knew better than to stare. Despite The Program, we boys at Mackie Military School were socialized to ignore things. Only little babies would squeal "Mommy, he's NEKKID!"

Instead of staring at my commandant's body—or delicious Miss Krystal—or even the slender sylph Harmony—I stared at the table. It was laid out with an enormous salad bowl, a small bird on a plate (chicken?) and some bread in a basket. I would have been lost had I not been trained in table manners at Mackie. From being unable to use a spoon, I knew to use the outside utensils first and to follow the lead of my hostesses. I got by.

I took little part in the dinner conversation. I had nothing to say.

"I see we have another hole in your education, Cadet," the commandant commented. "Fortunately, a mutually beneficial opportunity presents itself. You are going to be Harmony's boy friend."

The conversation shifted. Harmony needed a boy friend and I was acceptable. Father and the Giovanni team determined that I needed female attachment to grow up 'normal, ' whatever that was.