KIDS
Author: Matt Shaw
Date: 2023-07-23T14:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fiction; Lgbtq+; Gay
Description: Ross and Joe weren’t like the other customers who’d adopted their child from the HUB. They only adopted their son from there due to how difficult it was proving to be for them - a gay couple - to adopt a child of their own from a “normal” orphanage. For a hefty fee, the HUB didn’t care who was taking the children home with them. There were no background checks and there were no questions, just as long as the payment was made. For Ross and Joe, it seemed the easier option and it had the added benefit of saving one of the children from this hell-hole. But their new family life starts off on the
Publisher: Self Published

Copyright © 2023
by MATT SHAW

Matt Shaw Publications

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

The characters in this book are purely fictitious.

Any likeness to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

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KIDS

Matt Shaw!

From “HUB” "

Joe reached out to Ross’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Ross smiled at him. The pair of them looked like kids in a candy store; so many “sweeties” to choose from. So much excitement.

Derek closed their file and set it to the side of his desk. ‘Well everything is in order, and we received your down payment.’

The couple - recently married - had come down to the orphanage; a hope to extend their family with a new pet. ‘So, just to confirm, you’re looking for a little boy?’

Joe nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Not interested in the girls at all?’ Derek presumed he knew the answer to the question, given their marital status, but still asked on the off chance they were wanting to experiment with something “new”.

‘No. I don’t think so.’ Joe turned to Ross to confirm. ‘Not interested in girls?’

Ross laughed. ‘Not since my college days and that was a disaster.’ He confirmed the answer, ‘Just the boys please.’

‘And a preference in their age?’

‘Not too young. I don’t know.’

Joe chipped in, ‘We were thinking about seven? Six at a push? Old enough to know the basics of life as we don’t want to be teaching them about crossing the road and such.’

Derek smiled. ‘I understand.’ As they spoke, he scribbled some notes on his desk pad. ‘Preference in hair colour and such?’

‘No. We don’t judge. So long as they have a nice personality.’

Ross laughed. ‘And a cute bum.’

Derek couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I’ll be sure to have the boys with the best rears picked out.’ He was being playfully sarcastic and, both Ross and Joe laughed.

‘Here is what is going to happen. You will be moved to an interview room. From there, one at a time, we will bring the kids in to
meet you. You can ask them whatever you want… All the children you’ll be talking to have passed their exams so - I mean it - you can ask anything you want. What I will say though, you cannot test the merchandise.’

‘Do people even try that?’

‘Unfortunately we have had it before where a couple have tried to engage in sexual activities with the children. Needless to say they were asked to leave, and the rest of the process was done online which, I’m sure you can appreciate, doesn’t really give you the best opportunity to get to know the children ahead of the adoption.’

‘We’re not about to be trying that so nothing to worry about there.’

‘Okay. So. Do you two have any
questions?’

The two men looked at one another. ‘Do you?’

‘No,’ Ross said, ‘I’m good.’

Joe turned back to Derek. ‘We’re good, I think.’

‘Okay well let’s get this show on the road and find you a new family member, hey?’

Joe smiled. ‘Sounds like a plan!’!

No happy ending here TODAY

1

Unlike others who’d taken children from the Hub, Joe and Ross’s dreams were to extend their family, not to have a plaything to abuse in whatever way they deemed necessary.

Two professional men, in their respective fields, they’d not long been married and - as such - they didn’t feel the need to introduce a third party in order to get the most from their personal relationship. For them, sex happened behind closed doors and only when their adoptive son, David, was tucked up in his own bed. None of this was to say Joe and Ross didn’t know about what
happened within the Hub; what the children had been trained for. As far as they were concerned, they didn’t care about any of that though. In truth, the only reason they used the Hub’s services - to adopt their child -
was because it was easier to pay a fee than go through the stricter application processes involved with other orphanages. By going with the Hub, they got their family faster and dodged all the bullshit red-tape over places had. They also felt like they were doing something positive for the child too; pulling them out of this less than savoury place and giving them a better environment to grow up in. Saving them from what some of the other “parents” might be expecting their new children to do for them. Little did Joe and Ross know was it was too late to

“save” any of the children within the Hub.

Even those who’d not long since been introduced to the harsh classes taught.

David had only been at the Hub for a few months but in such an intense environment,
those months may as well have been “years”

with the damage caused to the boy’s mindset. His seemingly normal life with Joe and Ross felt as though it was more of a punishment. On the nights they put him to bed and made their way to their own room, he’d lay awake and listen, wondering why he hadn’t been instructed to help. His mind thinking back to the many hours of classroom training he’d had. His mind focused on the happy faces of the strangers he’d practised on. His mind wondering why he wasn’t good enough for his new daddy and daddy.

Those nights, listening to the heavy grunting from the other room, were the longest and - the following mornings, for David, were always the most uncertain.

2

‘Good night, buddy?’ Joe smiled as David walked into the room, rubbing the sleepy dust from his eyes. They were in the kitchen where Joe was cooking a fry-up for all three of them. ‘Bacon and eggs?’

David took a seat at the kitchen table. Joe had smiled at him, but he was still expecting some kind of punishment to be administered for his lack of “help” during the night. The smile, he thought, nothing more than a ploy to lull him into a false sense of security and

- yet - the punishment never came. It would though. He was sure of it.

Joe served up a small portion of bacon and eggs. He took it over to the table and placed it in front of David. ‘Help yourself to ketchup.’ He went back to the pan to serve up the rest, careful not to trip over the family dog; an irritating pug who spent half
his time snoring and the other half begging for food.

‘Morning!’ Ross walked into the room with his usual smile. Unlike Joe, who was standing there in his dressing gown, Ross was dressed in a nice suit and ready for work. He walked up behind Joe and gave him a kiss on the cheek. ‘And a very good morning to you.’ He giggled as he thought back to the previous night.

‘Breakfast is ready. Grab a seat!’

Ross did as he was told and sat opposite David. ‘And how did you sleep, young man?’

‘Okay, I guess.’

‘Just okay? What’s the matter, new bed not comfortable?’

‘It’s okay.’

Ross frowned. He could see from

David’s voice - and hear it in his tone -
something was wrong. ‘You alright? We didn’t keep you up last night, did we?’

Joe was glad he had his back to his son.

His face flushed bright red at the thought of David being able to hear what was going on in the bedroom last night. Especially after he’d told Ross to keep it down! He always got louder the more excited he became.

David hesitated a moment and then said,

‘You know I can help, don’t you?’

A look of confusion replaced Ross’s frown. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I was taught at school. I can make you feel good.’ Flashbacks played through in his mind; teachers showing the young boy how to masturbate a stranger’s erection, teachers telling them how to best use his tongue to bring a person to climax, or how to relax enough to allow for penetration. He’d been taught it all, along with the knowledge - this is how you make your new parents happy.

David’s words almost broke Ross’s heart.

The fact this young child thought he had to do that to make someone happy was, quite frankly, disgusting. But what could Ross do
about it? What could anyone do about it?

They’d already been given the spiel about how the Hub had “friends in high places”

and “many surprising clients”. They couldn’t exactly whistle blow when it would have meant all-out war between them and whoever else worked within the Hub.

Especially as it would mean David would be taken away from them too.

‘You never let me help and I know what happens to us when we don’t help. We get in trouble. I don’t want to be in trouble. I want to help…’

Ross tried to tell him, ‘You’re not going to get in trouble. We aren’t angry with you.

What happened in that place isn’t right and none of what they showed you is what we want from you… We adopted you because we wanted a son. That’s all. A happy son to call our own and complete our family.’ He added, ‘All that they showed you in that place… You never have to do any of it again
and, I promise, you will never get in trouble.

Okay?’

David hesitated a moment. ‘But it’s all I know how to do.’

His statement was too much for Joe who set the frying pan to the side away from the heat. He hurried from the room to save his son seeing he was upset. ‘Excuse me…’

David didn’t understand why Joe was quick to leave the room but, Ross did. He had the same feelings in the pit of his stomach; the thought they should be doing more to stop the Hub from being able to operate as it did but - again - they were just two men and with limited resources. Had the Hub wanted to, it could have buried them in legal woes right up until their dying days and taken David away from them.

‘Did I say something wrong?’ David didn’t understand why Joe was upset, only that he was.

‘No. He’s fine. It’s just…’ His voice trailed off. There was no point in trying to
tell David why they were both upset. He appeared so brainwashed by his school that he wouldn’t have understood. Not yet at least. Maybe it was a conversation for one day in the future? ‘I’ll be right back.’ Ross got up and left the room, chasing after his husband.

David sat there. He pushed the food around his plate, confused about everything about this life he’d been thrown into. It was nothing like his teachers had explained and, try as he might, he couldn’t find his feet no matter how hard he tried. If they wouldn’t let him help then, why were they not punishing him? Did they think that little of him that they simply didn’t care? And -
surely that was worse than the punishments themselves? The feeling of being ignored and yet, as much as they say they loved him, that was exactly how he felt. He had some of their attention, but it wasn’t as he had expected it to be…

Gary, the family pug, huffed from down by David’s feet. When David peered down to him, Gary was looking right back at him with a look of both frustration and desperation; frustration from the lack of food and desperation from the “want” of it.

Now he had David’s attention, he huffed again.

3

Ross walked into the living room where Joe was drying the tears from his eyes. Ross walked up to his husband and put his arms around him and just said, ‘I know.’

‘It makes me sick to think of what they do to those children. It makes me feel even worse to know we gave them money…’

‘We gave them money so we could have
the son we always dreamed about. We didn’t give them money because we agree with what they’re doing,’ Ross pointed out.

‘But it’s what they’ll be using the money for. We’ve enabled them to stay in business
a little longer and, for what? A son so broken he thinks he needs to pleasure us physically? Did you even hear what he said at the table.’

‘I did. Yes. I didn’t like it either. And, one day soon, he will hopefully realise that we love him for who he is and not what he thinks he can offer us. Until that day we just need to keep showing him that life doesn’t have to be as he was taught… But - I know why you left the room - we can’t run out crying whenever he brings it up. It makes him think he has done something wrong…’

Joe shook his head. ‘I felt sick pretending we appreciated what they were doing.

Sicker still when talking to all the children we interviewed. I just wanted to take them all home with me and…’

‘You can’t think about the other children.

We did what we could. We saved one of them and we extended our family, just as we wanted. Now I’m going to need you to stop
thinking like this, dry those eyes and come back into the kitchen for breakfast. Okay?’

‘It just makes me so mad.’

‘And me but, as we’ve already discussed, there’s nothing we can do about it. We have what we wanted. We need to concentrate on that… On our family.’

‘And do you think he will ever be a part of our family? Properly I mean? Because, at the moment, I’m not so sure. He seems…’

Joe cut his sentence off short. He didn’t want to say it out loud but, he thought the boy was potentially too damaged to be saved.

‘It will take time but… Everything will work out for the best, just as we wanted. We will be happy; he will be happy, and we can forget that place ever existed.’

‘Forget the Hub exists? I’m not entirely sure how but I like your confidence.’

‘Everything will be fine. I promise.’ Ross pulled Joe in for another close hug. ‘Now, are you ready to come have breakfast with
us? Be a shame to let it go cold having spent all that time cooking it.’

‘Yes.’

From the kitchen, the microwave door slammed shut.

‘Come on then.’ Ross took Joe’s hand and led him from the living room, back towards the kitchen.

From the kitchen, the microwave’s buttons were pressed and - a moment later -
it whirred to life as the two husbands walked back into the room.

‘Breakfast already gone cold then?’ Joe asked David who was standing over by the kitchen microwave. Before he’d even finished his sentence, he noticed the boy’s untouched breakfast still waiting to be consumed over on the kitchen table. He frowned. ‘What’s in the…’

Before he could finish the sentence, they first heard a pained whine, then a bubbling and then - a wet explosion as blood, fur and p u l p s p l a t t e r e d t h e i n s i d e o f t h e
microwave’s door. A moment later, the device pinged and powered down. No one said anything. David stared at his parents.

They, in turn, stared at the microwave.

‘… What was in the microwave, David?’

David shrugged. ‘I need to be punished.’

He turned and opened the microwave’s door. The contents slopped out, down the kitchen sides and formed a sticky puddle on the tiled floor. David turned back to the shocked faces of his parents. He repeated himself, ‘I need to be punished badly, daddy.’

4

David was in his room. When his dads left him, he was sitting on the edge of his bed -
staring at them with a confused look on his face. Despite what he did, they didn’t punish him because - on some level - they understood it wasn’t really his fault. The only people to blame were those who ran the Hub and made him - and others - this way. But that didn’t stop Joe and Ross wondering how they could pick up the pieces and live the life they’d dreamed about, back when they first thought of adopting someone. He microwaved their fucking dog. Was there any way for him to
go back to being a “normal” boy or had the damage been cemented?

Joe was weeping as he cleared the mess up. The tears were for the boy’s lost innocence and the death of the family pet.

Ross was sitting over at the kitchen table, unable to even look in the microwave’s direction. Gary had been his dog. He’d got him a few years before he’d met Joe and now - just like that - he was gone, and in such a horrible way. With the bubbling noises, and the damn ping of the microwave

- playing through on repeat, he couldn’t seem to push it from his mind.

Only when the worst of the puddle was washed “clean” did Joe sit up and wipe his cheeks. ‘How are we supposed to have a normal life if he does something like this the moment our backs are turned?’

Ross said nothing. Not because he didn’t want to jump forward with suggestions on how to make everything right but because he didn’t have any such suggestions to
make. They’d given David a home, they’d made him as comfortable as they could -
with a room most kids his age would be jealous of. They’d told him over and over that they loved him and yet… Ross’s mind played the dog’s death soundtrack for the hundredth time. In an attempt to be good parents, they’d given David everything and this is their reward.

‘Maybe we should think about therapy?

We can’t do this by ourselves. With all he has been through, it’s no shame to say it’s more than we can cope with.’

‘And what happens when we take him to a doctor? They start asking questions, he tells them about the past. They look into it and, next thing we know, social services are involved. He’s taken away from us because it’s - technically speaking - an illegal adoption and… We lose everything.’

‘Maybe we’re not ready for this?’ Joe shrugged. ‘We wanted a family. We knew there may be issues we had to contend with,
but this is a lot deeper than either of us could have envisioned.’

‘I’m not ready to give up on him yet.’

‘Yet it’s me cleaning up the damn dog.’

Joe slumped back against the kitchen top.

‘He thought we didn’t love him, so he microwaved the dog because he’d rather we punished him than ignored him… How did his brain even have any of that make sense?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘We’ve told him we love him. We’ve fucking told him…’

‘I know we have! And I don’t know why he doesn’t hear us…’ Ross continued, ‘I don’t know what you want me to say!’

Joe suddenly shouted, ‘I just want you to tell me everything will be okay!’

BEFORE

The teacher smiled from the front of the class. ‘Everything will be okay so long as
you do as you’re told and please your new mum and dad.’

To the side of him, an eight-year-old girl had the tip of a stranger’s cock in her mouth. She was sucking the head of his dick so hard her cheeks were getting pulled in.

The man sighed, gripped her head and shot a heavy, salty load of cum into her mouth.

Effortlessly, a pro from all the classroom training, the girl pulled away without spilling a drop. She wiped her mouth clean of dribbled saliva and smiled up at the stranger. ‘That’s a good girl.’ He patted her on the head. ‘That’s a really good girl.

Daddy loves you.’ Her smile broadened. She got up from her knees and went back to her table triumphantly. Her friends smiled at her and gave her a little clap as she took her seat.

‘See?’ The teacher pointed to the little girl, the final part of his lecture. ‘She did what she was supposed to do. She did what her daddy requested and - what happened?

He said he loved her. Now isn’t that what all of you want? The love of your mum and dad?’

The children nodded.

‘Then you know what to do.’ He paused a moment and reiterated, ‘Which is whatever they ask.’

5

David had spent most of the day up in his room, confused about why he hadn’t been p u n i s h e d . B u t t h e n , w a s t h i s h i s punishment? He remembered a time, before the Hub, when his real mum used to ignore him. Preferring, instead, to chase the dragon. He would try and talk to her, try and tell her he was hungry or thirsty and she would just sit there with a vacant look on her face, like she wasn’t even hearing him.

The pain he felt in his chest whenever she ignored him. It twisted him up just as much as the pain he felt when he had been taken
away from her. He had screamed as they pulled him away. She didn’t. She didn’t even look at him.

His two dads weren’t like his mother though. They weren’t ignoring him. They just weren’t acting in the way he had been trained for. The fact they weren’t punishing him suggested they weren’t disappointed with him but, why wouldn’t they let him show how much he could love them? A little

“thank you” for giving him a new home: One of the first lessons of the class.

BEFORE

‘Thank you for choosing me.’

‘Are you grateful we chose you?’ The stranger at the front of the class was playing the role of the father. There was a woman standing next to him who was playing the mother’s role. Two children, David being one of them, were standing before them as the rest of the class watched.

‘Yes,’ said David’s classroom partner, a young girl by the name of Erica. She approached the man and, with no hesitation, started to undo his belt buckle. ‘David and I would like to show you how grateful we are.

Will you permit us to show you?’ She pulled the man’s flaccid penis out and started to stroke it.

The teacher addressed the rest of the watching class. ‘Now there is nothing wrong with the way they’re doing this but do not feel as though you need to always ask the question. Sometimes it is better to ask non-verbally.’ He turned to David and nodded.

David stepped forward, without a word.

He walked behind the woman and undid her skirt zipper. She said nothing as he then slid her skirt down to the floor until she was standing there in just a top and panties.

David walked back around to the front of her and dropped to his knees. Still in silence, he pulled her underwear to the side
to expose her bushy pussy. The “mother”

put her hand on the top of his head and gripped his hair as he started eagerly licking her slit.

She said, ‘You’re a good boy.’

TODAY

David had unsuccessfully tried to give both fathers oral pleasure on the first night they brought him home. Given all they’d heard about the establishment, neither Ross nor Joe were surprised but - at the same time -
neither wanted that sort of attention from him. There were no strings to their love, he didn’t have to be a slave to them, and he certainly didn’t have to give himself in that way. The only thing they wanted was to raise him as if he was their own; something David couldn’t understand thanks to the brainwashing he’d been subjected to. None of what was happening here, in this new home, made sense to him and he found
himself permanently feeling on edge. A worry that perhaps this was the ultimate show of cruelty? Make him believe everything was normal and then put him through the hell the classes had promised, if he were to misbehave.

The bedroom door opened, and Joe appeared. ‘How are you doing?’

David shrugged.

‘Want to have a chat about what happened today?’

Again, David shrugged.

‘I think it would be good if we talked about it. No shouting. No punishments…

Just a chat. What do you say?’

David hesitated, still unsure as to whether this was a trap. Then, he nodded.

‘Okay.’

Joe smiled. ‘Let’s go down to the living room with Ross, yeah?’

Again, ‘Okay.’

6

‘David, why did you…’ Ross couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. If he said it out loud, it just made it even more real. But then, would that really matter? They’d already had to clean the liquified remains from the kitchen sides and floor, the microwave would have to be thrown in the trash and - the fucking smell. Burnt hair.

They couldn’t exactly pretend it never happened. ‘David, why did you microwave the dog?’

‘You were ignoring me,’ David said.

‘Ignoring you? We were talking at the table, weren’t we?’

‘Yes.’

‘And Joe made you a nice breakfast?’

‘… Yes.’

‘So, tell me, how were you being ignored?’

David shrugged.

‘No. You can’t shrug your way through this one. We need to understand what’s going on in your head… What we are doing to make you feel like you’re being ignored… Or that we don’t love you.’

David was quick to add, ‘But you don’t love me.’

‘How do we not love you? Have we not
provided all you need? Did we not choose you out of all the children we met with?

Have we been unkind to you? We do love you.’

As if to prove his point, David got off the couch he was sitting on. He walked over to where Ross was standing and, no words, he dropped to his knees. He reached for Ross’s
crotch but was immediately stopped in his tracks.

‘No! You don’t need to do that… That’s not how you get us to love you. That’s not normal behaviour…’

‘But it’s what we were taught.’

‘And you were taught incorrectly. That’s not how parents come to love their children, be they real parents or adoptive…’ Ross sighed. He looked over to Joe for back-up as it was clear from David’s face that not only did he not understand, but he was genuinely hurt at having his advances thrown back in his face.

Joe tried to explain, ‘Children should be playing with toys. Or they should be watching cartoons, playing computer games, going out with friends and riding bikes, kicking footballs… You should be having fun. What you tried to do for us… Children don’t do that.’

‘But it’s what we were taught.’

‘You should have said no! You must have known it wasn’t right!’ Ross knew David was young, but his age was simply another factor as to how he would have known it was wrong. Before the school, before the brainwashing - before all of that - David would have been a regular child. Alarm bells should have been ringing the moment they asked him to do some of what they expected. Yet, somehow, all children went along with it. What scared them that much they thought they had no choice? Ross also knew none of this was David’s fault and yet he couldn’t stop himself from getting worked up by the whole situation - more so when he wondered whether all the children in the orphanage were as broken as he was.

Feeling his temper bubbling over, he took a moment to regain his composure before he asked, ‘Why didn’t you refuse to do it?’

David looked at the carpeted floor, unable to look either of his dads in the eye.

‘You can tell us.’ Joe reassured him, ‘It won’t make us angry. We’re just trying to understand what happened.’ After talking about it all day, going back and forth, they decided the only way they could try and help David was by first understanding all that he had gone through, and how the school morphed his mind into one which thought it a good idea to microwave pets.

He asked again, ‘Why did you agree to do anything they asked you? What happened in that school?!’!

Welcome to the Hub.

BEFORE

7

David looked around at his fellow classmates, all of them looked as nervous as he felt. His first day of lessons in the orphanage and it was all he could do to keep the tears held back as thoughts of his unloving mother lingered in his mind. What had happened to her? Was she okay? Would she be coming back for him? Is this a temporary situation?

David’s thoughts were interrupted when the door opened, and the teacher walked in.

His name was Mr. Jones; a strict looking man in his fifties, balding and with a gut suggesting he liked eating the finest of
foods. Certainly a “better” diet than given at the orphanage where bread, soup and water seemed to make up the bulk of most mealtimes.

Mr. Jones eyeballed the children as he made his way to the desk, in the front of the room. He set his bag down and positioned himself in front of the desk, so it didn’t get in the way of the children’s view of him. For a moment he just stood there, silent and staring.

‘Welcome to the Hub. My name is Mr.

Jones. I know some of you have been here a few days already but you’re all in the same position when it comes to this class. It is the first day for all of you. Take a look around at your fellow classmates, these will be your colleagues until you have your thirteenth birthday and move on, or until you’re chosen by a new mother and father. With regards to the latter possibility, that is what these classes are for. I am going to do
everything within my power to ensure you find new parents and make them happy…’

David’s thought, Did I not make my mum happy? Is that why I am here? The moment the thought was planted, he noticed Mr.

Jones was seemingly staring straight back at him as though answering the question. No, you didn’t make mummy happy.

‘Some of you are here because your mother and father no longer want you. Some of you are here because your parents are dead and there is no one else to look after you. Whatever the reason for your attendance, I will be treating you all the same. If you listen to what I say and obey instruction, we will not have any trouble.

Do you understand?’

The children nodded.

‘I can’t hear you.’

In unison, ‘Yes, Mr. Jones.’

‘Excellent. Only by working together can we ensure you not only find a new mum and dad but that you also keep them too.’

On perfect cue, the classroom door opened once again. Two people walked in: a woman in her mid-forties and a man of similar age. They walked like robots - eyes facing forward, limbs stiff - and planted themselves next to Mr. Jones. What made their entrance all the more shocking was that both were nude. The embarrassed children didn’t know where to look.

‘Do not be shy, children. You need to get used to seeing your mother and father naked. Why? Because it involves an important part of getting them to like you.’

One child in the front row refused to look. He didn’t say anything but, he was doing all he could to look out of the window overlooking the front gardens. His lack of obedience didn’t go unnoticed. In a sudden move, Mr. Jones slammed his open-palmed hand down on the boy’s desk with such force more than half the class visibly jumped.

‘Look at them!’

Nervous, the boy faced forward and looked at the two naked people standing before him.

Mr. Jones continued, ‘Today, these two individuals will be role-playing your new parents. I want you to spend the next ten minutes looking at them. Nothing more and nothing less. Do not look away. Take in their bodies… Now as the days go on, the faces may change but whenever someone else is standing at the front of the class, let it be known that you must always address them as either mummy or daddy. Am I understood?’

In unison, ‘Yes, Mr. Jones.’

‘Excellent. Now, the five minutes begins now…’

8

‘Are you okay?’ Class was long since over.

The boys and girls had been separated and sent to their dormitories to get some

“needed” sleep ahead of a busy day tomorrow. David’s bed was close to the boy who’d been caught staring out of the window. Ever since the hand-slap on the desk, and then the uncomfortable five minutes staring at the naked man and woman, the boy had gone a ghostly white colour. Only now that the lights had gone out did he start to cry. When David didn’t get an answer, he asked again, ‘Are you okay?’

‘Leave me alone.’ The boy rolled onto his side, putting his back to David. He laid like that for only a moment before he got up, put his dressing gown on and left the dorm.

There was a part of David which wondered whether he should have gone after the boy but then, he did ask to be left alone so—? David rolled on his back and stared up to the ceiling. Once again, he found himself fighting back the tears. The thoughts of his mum - drugged up and ignoring him - were still in his mind but they weren’t as loud now. The biggest question on his mind now was, What did I do to deserve this? The question was there because of what Mr. Jones had said at the start of class. The moment when he pointed out some of the children were there because their parents no longer wanted them. Try as he might, David couldn’t think of any real reasons as to why his mum would give him away like that. Was he the perfect son?

Probably not. But, at the same time, he wasn’t the worst and he definitely had memories of the two of them laughing together so… Why didn’t she love him?

Why had she pushed him away and made him end up in a place like this?

As David’s mind continuing jumping f r o m u n c o m f o r t a b l e q u e s t i o n t o uncomfortable question, his eyes fixed upon the blackest parts of the room’s shadows.

Within the blackness, eyes playing tricks on him, all he could see was the naked bodies of “mummy” and “daddy”. When he
realised, he closed his eyes tight but - the images remained, forever burned into his retinas.

In the darkness, he could hear the sound of some of the other boys. Some tossed and turned, also struggling to sleep. Others wept for reasons of their own.

* * * * *

Morning came and the sound of screaming pulled David from his sleep. The noise was coming from a young girl beyond the closed door of the boys’ dormitory.

David sat up as some of the older boys climbed from their beds and made their way to the door, curious to see what the screaming was about.

The door opened to reveal Mr. Jones standing there. He snapped round to the boys in the doorway and yelled, ‘Get back in bed!’ Behind him, visible through the open door leading to the bathroom, the boy caught looking out of the classroom window was hanging in one of the toilet cubicles.

His dressing gown cord tied tightly around his neck.

The girl who’d found him continued to scream as she was led away by another male teacher.

9

The mood in the assembly hall was subdued and not just because of the boy’s unexpected death.

Derek Prine, the Headmaster, was
standing on the stage addressing the boys and girls of the orphanage. The topic of conversation was the hanging.

‘He was a coward. Soon enough most people would have forgotten him, just as you too will be forgotten if you do something similar. What he did was nothing more than a selfish, pathetic act which leaves others to pick up the pieces. And pick up the pieces we will. We’ll clean the mess
up he made when he soiled himself in death.

We will throw his body in a box and stick him in the ground. There will be no people to say goodbye, there will be no prayers to send him on his way and there will be no headstone with which to remember him and his time on this planet. He deserves none of that, and - if you do the same - neither will you. Now if some of you struggle with what happened this morning, you are more than welcome to talk to the teachers about it but under no circumstances is anyone to talk about him by name. Like everything else about him, his name will be forgotten. If you are heard speaking about him to anyone but a teacher, you will be punished.’ He scanned the faces staring back at him to ensure everything he was saying had sunk i n . F r o m t h e n e r v o u s a n d s c a r e d expressions, it was a fair assumption his words were hitting home.

Mr. Prine continued, ‘Furthermore, with immediate effect, there is a ban of all
dressing gown cords. During this assembly, the teachers are already going around your rooms and removing these. If any are missed, it is your responsibility to hand it in to us. Again, if you do not pass it to a member of staff, you will be punished.’ As further warning, he added, ‘You do not want to find yourself in our bad books…’ It was a warning which didn’t need to be said. Most of the children were already scared of the faculty without the added layer of threats being made.

‘To reiterate, dressing gown cords have been banned. If you find one, you will hand it in. Those of you who wish to be as selfish as the young boy from last night - keep in mind that you will be promptly forgotten and, without a proper burial, be forced to wander the blackness of the afterlife, forever lost to all. Suicide is not the freedom idiots perceive it to be.’ He let the words sink in. ‘Now, quietly, I want you all to get back to your classes and continue your day
as per your timetables. Pretend this morning didn’t happen and if you find yourself struggling to do that, again, approach a teacher to talk about it.’ He gave a nod of his head and informed them, ‘You’re dismissed.’ With that, Mr. Prine turned and walked from the stage area. Slowly, and quietly, the pupils filed from the room, ready for their next day of lessons and whatever else may be thrown at them.

Within the crowd, David was already dreading the day, whilst also carrying with him an extra layer of guilt. If he tried harder, could he have got the boy to talk to him? Could he have stopped him from taking his own life? When people die, those who survive are often left with troubling thoughts which would often put the guilt of the situation squarely on their shoulders, even when it wasn’t deserved. David didn’t know for sure but, there was nothing he could have said which would have stopped
his classmate from going into the bathroom stalls and hanging himself.

10

It was David’s second class. The man and woman from the first had come back into the room with the teacher. Just as they were the day before, the two strangers were standing before the children, naked. Despite being forced to stare at them for what felt like an uncomfortably long time yesterday, there was still much embarrassment from the children.

‘Today we want you to start getting comfortable with holding your parents. You will all form a line, snaking around the class. In turn, each of you will step forward and embrace your mother and father. Girls
will hug their fathers. Boys will hug their mothers. Each hug is to last until I tell you to release. Once you let go, you may return to your seat and wait for your classmates to have their turn. If you wish to say anything to your mother or father, you are more than welcome to. If you wish to remain silent to begin with, this is not a problem either. That being said, if any words spoken are those of insolence, you will be punished. Am I understood?’

In unison, ‘Yes, Mr. Jones.’

‘Then, form a line.’

Mr. Jones stepped to the side of the room as the class formed a line before the student previously appointed as being “first”. The young lad stood nervously as he waited to be called up to his mother. A “call” which only came when all pupils were in position.

‘Okay, when you’re ready.’

The first boy, Paul, made his approach.

The woman didn’t even look at him. Her eyes were fixed - still with that robotic stare

- towards the back of the classroom. She didn’t even look at him when he put his arms around her, his face nestling between her two sagging breasts.

‘Good!’ Mr. Jones watched on with a satisfied smile on his face. ‘And don’t forget, if you want to say something to your parent…’

Unsure as to what he should say, Paul went with, ‘I love you, mummy.’

Mr. Jones applauded. ‘I love you, mummy. What every mother wants to hear from their child. Good!’ He paused a moment in order to let them hug a little longer. Then, when he felt their time was up, he shouted, ‘Okay, good! Next!’

Paul released his hug and stepped away from his “mother”. As he made his way back to his seat, David couldn’t help but notice how red Paul’s face was.

The next child, a six-year-old girl brunette named Lana, stepped forward with a look of uncertainty on her face. She was
slower in her approach, unsure if she even wanted to do what was being asked. To her, it was embarrassing. This wasn’t her dad, as she was being made to pretend. He looked nothing like her dad.

‘Go on, child, go and hug your father.

He’s had a busy day at work and is waiting for you to greet him.’

Lana stopped a few feet away from the stranger. She glanced down to his genitals which were semi-erect at the prospect of the little girl readying herself to touch him.

Unlike the robotic stare of the woman, he was looking straight back at Lana with a perverse grin skewed on his face. She turned back to the teacher and admitted, ‘I don’t want to.’ Her classmates, David included, looked towards the teacher to see what his reaction would be. If she didn’t have to touch the man then, it meant they could all refuse too.

Mr. Jones stood to his full height. ‘You’re new. Because you’re new you can have one
warning but, a word to the rest of the class, this is also your one warning. In these classes you are told what to do. If you do not complete your lessons then punishments will be given. I say again, go and hug your father.’

‘But he isn’t my dad. I don’t know him.’

‘You won’t know the people who come here to adopt you either, but you’ll be expected to call them mum, dad, mother, father… Whatever they choose to be called.

Would you deny them too?’

‘This man isn’t adopting me though…’

Mr. Jones sighed. This wasn’t the first time a pupil had talked back at him. At the start, when they were new and didn’t really know how things worked, a fair few of them had tried it before. The only good thing was, it was usually a perfect opportunity to set an example to the rest of the class. ‘We are role-playing. Now hug your father.’

‘No.’

Tension filled the air. David looked down towards the floor, almost too afraid to see what would happen next. Some of his classmates had gone a step further and actively held their breath as they waited for Mr. Jones’s response.

Mr. Jones strolled over to Lana. He reached down and, with a gentle hand, moved the hair from where it hid her face.

‘Such a pretty face,’ he said. ‘Why hide it?’

Lana felt her skin burn as her cheeks reddened. She wasn’t used to people talking about her in such a way, especially in front of a room full of other people. Mr. Jones smiled at her and then - in a swift move - he slapped the back of his hand against her face with enough force to make her head jar to the side. She dropped to her knees like a sack of shit, holding her stinging face. Her tears were instant, as was the laughter from both make-believe mother and father. Mr.

Jones faced the children, the look in his eyes warning enough to them that if they tried to
disobey him then they could expect the same too. The students foolish enough to catch his gaze were quick to look away.

Satisfied they’d all learned from Lana’s lesson, Mr. Jones turned back to the crying girl. ‘Get up and give your father a hug.

Perhaps you might want to consider apologising to him for being an insolent brat.’

Lana got up from the floor. She was unsteady on her feet and still had a hand against her painful face. Although she moved to do as instructed, there was a look in her eyes that Mr. Jones didn’t like, not that he showed any reaction to it. At the moment, he was still very much in charge.

So long as she did what was asked now, his position of power wouldn’t change.

Lana stopped in front of the man pretending to be her father. She turned back to Mr. Jones and stared at him for a moment as she started to swallow back her tears. Mr.

Jones impatiently folded his arms. Was this
little girl really trying to challenge him?

‘Get on with it. We don’t have all day.’

Lana pulled her hand away from her face. There was no hiding the red mark on her cheek but, she didn’t care about that now. She smiled to Mr. Jones and then -
without thinking, or caring, of the consequences - she walked from the room.

In the classroom, you could hear a pin drop as a sadistic smile spread over Mr.

Jones’ face.

11

David looked around the canteen as he took one of the spare seats closest to where they’d given him his tray of food. He wasn’t looking for a friendly face to sit with. He was looking to see if he could spot Lana after she’d failed to come back to class since s t o r m i n g o u t . W h e n h e c o u l d n ’ t immediately spot her, he found himself wondering as to whether she had been expelled. Such a thought kicked up another thought from the depths of David’s mind; What happens to someone who is expelled out of the one place that was happy to take them in, after no one else would? The one
place that accepts you, even after your own parents didn’t. Where do you go from there?

A question with no answer, David tried to force it from his mind as he started to eat his lunch, a roll of stale bread, some noodle soup and a glass of water. Others around him also ate, and just as David ate in silence

- so, too, did they. The only sounds within the dining room were the clinking of spoons on ceramic bowls, and occasional slurping.

The teachers sat along the far wall; their meal different to what the children ate.

Hand-cut chips and slabs of expensive steak and a fried egg to top the meat, as an optional extra. Their drinks? Glasses of wine - red or white, depending on their personal preference. If they didn’t want alcohol? A selection of various fruit juices freshly squeezed.

David hadn’t seen exactly what the teachers were eating, only that it was different to what he’d been given. His stomach rumbled with jealousy at the
thought of eating something other than noodle soup. He didn’t complain though and, just as he’d done the day before, he made sure to clear the bowl.

* * * * *

The naked images of “mother” and “father”

still filled the blackest parts of the dormitory’s shadows. Night-time had come round once more. Whilst it was nice to be away from the classes, and Mr. Jones in particular, the nights weren’t as peaceful as they should have been due to the noisy thoughts.

As some of the other children did their best to quietly cry themselves to sleep, David found himself thinking about his mum again. Not the classroom woman pretending to be his mother but, his real mum. Where was she? Was she getting better? Getting off the drugs? Once off them, would she remember the happier
times they had together? Thoughts which might - he hoped - encourage her to come and find him again? Or was this it? Was this his life now, and the best he could ask for would be for a new mum and dad to come and adopt him? What if someone did pick him to be a part of their family? Did he get a say as to whether he went home with them, or would they simply tell him to pack a bag and grab his coat?

For all the children living under the Hub’s roof, there was too much uncertainty hanging over their heads. David was sure a place like this was supposed to provide some form of safety and comfort, yet he felt none.

With his eyes still fixed to the blackest parts of the room’s shadows, he couldn’t help but wish they’d suddenly suck him into the abyss, never to be seen again. A fate, he believed, to be easier than the coldness of the reality he faced.

But then maybe the teachers and lessons were being done in this manner on purpose?

A sudden thought which made him wonder whether the teachers came in heavy-handed to assert their dominance. Once they’d made their point, they would relax a little and things would get easier, perhaps? As quick as the thought came to mind, it was dismissed just as fast. No matter how hard he tried, David couldn’t imagine Mr. Jones ever being “more relaxed”. It was a case of nothing more than wishful thinking.

David rolled onto his side. He didn’t feel tired with how busy his brain was being but, he forced himself to close his eyes.

Hopefully sleep will come. From out of nowhere, his brain whispered, Maybe the other boy had the right idea? Maybe it would be easier to die? An unwanted thought. David scrunched his eyes up tight and tried his best to ignore the cold voice. In a further attempt to push the voice from his
thoughts, he quietly whispered, ‘Please let tomorrow be better.’

No happy ending here (part 2) TODAY!

12

There was still so much to say but, David looked exhausted. He had been talking about his experiences for the last three hours and it was already past the time he’d usually go to bed. Unlike him, he even admitted,

‘I’m tired.’ Neither Ross nor Joe were surprised given the mental stress he must have been under from both what happened in the morning and then having to go through this too. Before either of them could say it was “okay”, he added, ‘I’m sorry about Gary. I…’ There were no words which could adequately finish the sentence, so he stopped talking. Both parents tried not
to show their upset at the mention of Gary’s name. It was heartbreaking what happened and something they would never forget, even though both probably wished they could, but - at the same time - David wasn’t to blame. He might have pressed the buttons but only because of what the Hub had turned him into.

‘Come on, I’ll take you up.’ Joe stood up and held his hand out towards David who took it.

‘Good night,’ Ross said as the pair walked from the living room and out towards the stairs. Hoping to continue the conversation tomorrow, and to show David he wasn’t angry, Ross called out, ‘And thank you for telling us about the orphanage. Thank you for trusting us… We love you.’ David didn’t respond although, Ross was sure the words had been heard.

* * * * *

Joe stopped in the doorway of David’s bedroom. David continued in and across the room to his bed. ‘As Ross said, thank you for telling us about what happened.

Hopefully tomorrow you can carry on?’

David nodded. ‘Okay.’ He didn’t see the point in talking about where he had come from. For him it just brought up memories he’d sooner forget but, if they wanted to talk about it - if it made them happy - then he would do it just to be “the good son”.

‘Goodnight, son.’ Joe stepped into the room and approached David. He leaned down and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead. David said nothing as Joe turned to leave the room. ‘I hope you dream well.’

And, with that, he stepped from the room and pulled the door closed behind him.

David watched the door for a moment as an old memory played to mind. Back in the dormitory when all the other boys were sleeping - some even snoring. The door opened and a shadowy figure walked in. To
this day, David didn’t know who that person had been, but he remembered how they stopped in the middle of the room for a moment, scanning the beds. Then, he approached where David lay. With no words, the figure reached into his pants and pulled out an erection. As a hand guided David’s face towards the shadowy-penis, David closed his eyes. He only opened his mouth when he felt the cock’s head pushing against his lips.

The voice, unrecognised, ‘Ssh.’

Every night since living with his new parents, David had never taken his eyes from the bedroom door. Every night he’d fall asleep, half-expecting the door to open and a shadowy figure to creep in. When morning finally came, and no nightly visitors appeared, he didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. Why didn’t they want him?

13

‘We can’t ignore what is happening there. I know we said we would but, living with David… It’s clear we cannot ignore that place.’ Ross ambushed Joe the moment he walked back into the living room. When Joe had left him, Ross had been sitting on the settee - where all three had made themselves

“comfortable” whilst David shared his story.

Now though, pent up and agitated, he paced the room.

‘And we’d already decided there’s nothing we can do about it. We try and say something, and they’ll bury us in legal fees we cannot afford to pay. We had to beg,
borrow and steal just to get David home with us - we have nothing left.’

‘It’s not about the money… Think of all those other children! Right now there are kids there being subjected to…’

Joe interrupted him, ‘And we can’t save them all! You remember what we were told; they have friends in high places keeping them going. They have friends in the fucking government. Do you honestly think those high-powered friends won’t come along and side with the Hub if we try and expose them? They’ll do whatever it takes to protect their dirty little secret. I know it’s horrible, the worst thing in the fucking world, but - really - what can we do about it?’ Joe was right. With friends in high places, there was no way their story of the Hub would ever see the light of day. The media channels would soon squash it, following orders from further up the food chain. The police wouldn’t act given the government pulls their strings and even if

Ross and Joe could get them to court -
strings would be pulled no doubt and, again, the case would be dismissed. Joe added,

‘And what about David? If we say anything, people will expect him to talk again. There’s also a good chance we will lose him, given how we adopted him in the first place. Do you really want that?’

Ross shrugged. ‘At this point it might be for the best anyway. The boy needs help.

Help, I hasten to add, that we are not experienced enough to give.

‘The boy needs love! And that is something we are experienced to give. It will take time; it will take patience…’

Ross butted in, ‘Joe, he microwaved the fucking dog! Is there a way back from that?’

Thoughts of Gary had been momentarily b u r i e d b y h i s s o n ’s t r o u b l e s a n d conversations but - now he was in bed -
they’d come racing back to Ross’s mind. As his brain replayed the god-awful wet explosion, Ross started to cry again. ‘He
was just a dumb pug! A dumb, happy little pug! He trusted everyone and now look…’

Joe had no words of comfort to offer so he walked across to his husband and quietly embraced him. The moment he did, he felt the full weight of Ross press against him.

Ross continued, ‘This isn’t exactly shaping up to be the happy family we dreamed of, is it?’

There was enough pause to reveal doubt but, Joe said, ‘Everything will be okay.’

14

Morning had come after a long, sleepless night for all three. Ross was downstairs, staring at the kitchen worktop where he was supposed to be preparing breakfast. Unable to move from the spot he was rooted to, all he could see when looking at the worktop was the sticky mess which had spilled out of the microwave. It was cleaned up of course but, still the image lingered.

Upstairs, Joe was in the shower. In an effort to pull himself from his depressed state of mind - brought on from both tiredness and thoughts of David - he was singing loudly.

David was standing on the landing, dressed in his pyjamas. He was listening to the water running from the bathroom. His mind was back at the Hub and the time he’d been showering alone.

BEFORE

The other kids had left. David always took longer in the communal shower, not because he enjoyed the washing but because he enjoyed the peace and solitude. It was his moment to forget the world and pretend that

- actually - everything was normal. So lost in his fantasy world, he never heard the teacher enter. ‘Are you done yet?’ When the older man spoke, David visibly jumped.

David quickly covered himself as he reached for the shower tap. ‘I’m done.’

The teacher smiled. ‘It’s okay. Don’t rush on my behalf. I was just asking if you were finished yet. You can carry on.’ The man leaned against the doorway and eyed the
young boy up and dad, eye-fucking him in the process. He licked his lips.

Unsure what else to do David said…

‘Sorry, were you waiting on me?’

TODAY

David blinked back to reality. Joe had opened the bathroom door. He was standing there with a towel wrapped around his waist. Water dripped from his skin. Joe continued, ‘I didn’t realise you were waiting, sorry. All yours.’ He stepped from the room and crossed the landing, heading back to his bedroom, scuffling David’s hair as he walked by.

David said nothing. Grateful to have been pulled from the painful memory, he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.!

15

There was no fry-up this morning. It was as much as Ross could do to make toast under the grill. Even so, no one seemed to complain as they all sat around the kitchen table eating in silence.

Between mouthfuls, Joe told David, ‘I thought we could keep talking about the Hub today…’

‘Don’t you have work?’

‘I’m not going in today. I’ve already called them.’

‘But won’t you get in trouble?’ There was obvious panic in David’s voice.

‘I won’t get in trouble. Don’t worry.’ He smiled. ‘Anyway, even if I did, some things
are more important than work, don’t you think?’

‘I don’t want you getting in trouble!’

‘It’s okay.’ Joe reassured him again, ‘I won’t get in trouble. I promise.’ His work was grateful he’d seen fit to call in today. If he was in trouble for anything, it was the fact he simply didn’t show the day before.

When he called them today, he didn’t explain exactly what was going on. All he had to say was his son wasn’t very well and he needed to look after him. They didn’t need to know the finer details.

Ross was staring at his untouched toast.

Unable to hold the burning question in any longer, he asked, ‘Did you see that girl again?’

David looked at him, confused.

Ross filled in the blanks, ‘That girl who refused to hug the man in the classroom.

The one who the teacher smacked…’

David’s face dropped. ‘Not her face.’ His response was enough to confuse both men.

‘What do you mean?’

David looked down at his plate and the last of his toast. It was clear from the sudden change in his eyes and general demeanour that - whatever he meant - he would sooner forget.

Joe reached out to David’s hand which was resting on the table, next to his plate.

He gave him a little squeeze and quietly asked, ‘Can you tell us what happened?

Please?’

The First

BEFORE

16

The basement light flickered as Lana screamed. She was strapped to a table, stripped bare and unable to move. A group of men and women dressed in scrubs stood around her with their masks pulled down to their chins so Lana could see their sadistic smiles. Within the group, Mr. Jones stood laughing.

‘All of this could have been avoided. All you had to do was obey a simple instruction but, you couldn’t do that could you…’ Mr.

Jones held up an electric drill. ‘One day - if you survive this - you might be in a position to have children of your own. We can’t have
someone like you, an unruly brat of a child, raising a child who carries their mother’s principles, can we? You and your kind spreading through society like a plague until all that’s left are the ones who don’t follow simple rules. What comes next is down to you.’ He leaned forward and lined the drill bit against Lana’s narrow, virginal slit. She flinched as - still with that same sadistic smile on his face - he squeezed the trigger.

The drill’s motor sang into the basement’s stale air. ‘Just a simple procedure and we can ensure you never breed. A simple procedure you opted for by being a little brat.’ Mr. Jones turned to an older gentleman to his right, Patrick Ryman.

‘Ready to patch her up?’

Patrick, the in-house doctor who looked out for the health of the children, nodded.

‘Indeed we are.’ Behind him, there was a pre-prepared tray of swabs, drugs to stop infection and the necessary means to do some stitching.

Mr. Jones turned his attention back to between Lana’s shaking legs. No more lectures. He pushed the spinning drill into her genitals. The metal bit immediately started twisting and biting against the internal wall of her vagina. With each spinning bite, it ripped tiny little chunks of flesh away from within, with the “freed”

bits tangling up against the drill. Lana’s scream increased in pitch as she fought against the binding restraints; each movement she made only making more of a mess inside her as the drill went deeper still; chewing, biting, ripping, shredding - only stopping once Lana passed out from pain and shock.

Mr. Jones pulled the drill out from the mangled minge and took a step back. There was a look of pure satisfaction on his face as he admired the mess he’d made; a cunt that resembled a punched-out beef taco which had been generously covered in tomato sauce. There was further satisfaction when
he noticed the stringy bits of vaginal flesh hanging off the drill. ‘Don’t let her bleed out,’ he coldly said to Ryman. ‘She still has her uses.’

Patrick and his team immediately set to work, patching up the damage caused by the drill to ensure the young girl didn’t bleed out. There was no shock at Mr. Jones’s actions as he himself went to the corner of the room to light up a cigarette. Everyone who worked at the Hub knew what the place was about and none of them cared all the time their more-than-generous-wages were being paid. It was only ever about the money.

Mr. Jones watched for a while until he grew bored. ‘When you’re done, come and find me. We’re not finished yet.’

‘Let’s ensure she survives first,’ Patrick said. He’d already warned Mr. Jones that it was going to be tough to patch the girl back up and, right now, all he wanted was some peace and quiet so he could get on with
what he was trained for. They could worry about “later” when the time came.

Mr. Jones didn’t answer back. He took a final drag of his cigarette and dropped it to the floor, before stamping it out. Then, knowing it was going to be a long night, he left the basement to steal a quick nap somewhere close by.

17

‘Do you know why we do this?’

Barely conscious after her ordeal, and the amount of pain she’d woken to, Lana answered with nothing more than a murmur.

Whilst it was just a noise, Mr. Jones took it as an answer to his posed question: I don’t know why we do this.

‘If the little procedure we did failed and -
by some miracle - you’re still able to have children… We need a back-up plan to stop you from having children. That’s what this is. A back-up plan.’ Mr. Jones was in the basement again. There was only him and Lana left after Patrick and his team retired
following a successful operation. He held a scalpel close to Lana’s face. ‘What we’re going to do,’ he continued, ‘is make you so ugly that no one - not even the desperate -
will be wanting to go anywhere near you…

To make you so repulsive that you turn people gay.’ Mr. Jones laughed at such a thought, not that his laughter lasted very long. He was frustrated Lana wasn’t awake enough to truly understand what was going on. She trod that fine line between consciousness and unconsciousness, leaning more towards the latter. He wasn’t surprised, given all she’d had done to her, but that didn’t mean he was thrilled about it.

With the way she had defied him in class, his ideal world saw her feeling every damned thing he chose to do to her. Still, it was the middle of the night, and she was very much a part of the next day’s classes so

- time wasn’t on his side and her current state would have to do. No more wasting time.

With little pressure only, the scalpel’s razor-sharp blade dug into Lana’s pale cheek. A little more pressure, pulling it downwards and her skin separated with ease, allowing bright red blood to immediately trickle. Another murmur from Lana.

‘Sorry. Is that hurting?’ Mr. Jones pulled the blade from the incision he’d made. ‘I didn’t think it would hurt. I’m sorry about that. Truly.’ He wasn’t, of course. This was all part of the game he was enjoying to play by himself. ‘What about if we try here?’ He repeated the above steps on the other side of Lana’s face. Another pained murmur but still not enough to make her properly scream. ‘No, no… I see that’s just as uncomfortable for you… Okay… Here?’

Out with the blade. A quick reposition and he pressed it down into her forehead; enough to open the skin but not enough to scrape away at her skull. He dragged the blade down so that this new cut met up with
the first. Then, no more words, he continued the bottom of the first cut so that it went under her chin and joined up with the cut on the other cheek. He paused a moment, repositioned again and - the second cheek’s incision was also linked to the cut on Lana’s forehead. Still the girl murmured through the discomfort.

There was a second tray in the room. Mr.

Jones had brought it down with him after they’d come to get him. He put the knife down on the tray, next to a roll of black tape and plastic straw which had been cut into two.

‘You have such a pretty face,’ Mr. Jones said as he turned back to the immobile girl.

‘You would have grown into quite the little heartbreaker, I imagine. Still, too late for that now.’ With fingers on both hands extended, he reached into the cheek incisions and gripped the loose skin. Once he was satisfied he had a good enough grip on both, he slowly started to pull away -
peeling her skin in the process. Lana’s murmur turned to a scream as bit by bit, her face came away.

18

‘A face no one can love. Even if your mother and father were still alive, they would take one look at you and be thoroughly repulsed too and, no one would blame them.’

Lana’s face hadn’t come away in quite the way Mr. Jones had expected. In his mind, he had pictured a “Leatherface”

scenario in which, if one desired, someone could wear her as a mask. Chunks of flesh came away, leaving other chunks still in place but the result was still the same: She was disfigured for life with no option of plastic surgery to try and help her.

Mr. Jones reached into his pants and pulled out his flaccid penis. ‘Look at this.

Not even a hint of an erection. This is what you can expect from boys whenever they see you; nothing. In fact I am surprised this thing hasn’t completely withdrawn right up into my stomach.’ He laughed. ‘How disappointed he looks; repulsed by your ugly appearance.’ He closed his eyes and started to stroke himself. ‘Someone would have to work themselves really hard in order to get even close to something resembling an erection around you.’ True to his word, Mr. Jones did indeed have to pump himself harder and faster than usual until his soft prick finally started to play ball and stiffen up.

Even if Lana was conscious enough to close her eyes to what was happening, she wouldn’t have been able to. One part of her face which had successfully come away were her eye-lids: eyes already drying and stinging from lack of moisture.

‘Come on,’ Mr. Jones muttered to himself as he continued masturbating. He didn’t want to do this but felt like he needed to, as part of the final humiliating act he had envisioned for her. With his eyes closed tight he started to imagine himself up in the classroom - lying back on his desk with a six year old’s slit squirming down on his face. Another young mouth barely able to fit his cock in, sucking it back as much as it could. The other children lined the classroom walls; boys touching themselves and girls breaking their hymen with enthusiastic fingering.

Mr. Jones grunted as a thick wad of spunk fired out of his cock, splashing over Lana’s bleeding face. A sigh of satisfaction from him and a murmur of disgust from her.

He stood there a moment, his legs quivering and his mind enjoying the mental image he’d conjured up to cause such a load.

When he finally opened his eyes, he couldn’t help but to laugh at the state of

Lana’s face. His ejaculate and her blood had mixed together. It looked like a raspberry ripple ice-cream, left out in the sun too long.

He put his genitals away, ignoring the little dribble of remaining spunk that dropped into his shorts, and reached for the black tape and straw segments. ‘Do you know what this is for?’ He held it up, above her face. Despite not being able to close her eyes to all she saw, Mr. Jones still wasn’t sure she could see what was being held up.

On the off chance she couldn’t, he explained, ‘Black tape and a little straw I’ve cut into two. Do you know what this is for?’

She didn’t answer or make any attempt to.

‘This is so people no longer have to look at your ugly, broken face… This is your face now. The straws? They’re just to help you breathe.’ He pushed the two pieces of straw up each of her nostrils with enough force to make her whimper. Then, no more
explanations needed, he started winding the black tape around her head, starting down at
her neck and working her way up until she was entirely covered - with just two pieces of straw poking out. When he was done, he sat back and admired his handiwork. ‘No need to scare the children, is there?’

And, like that, she was ready for class.

19

Mr. Jones was pretty much running on adrenaline at this point. He was tired from the lack of sleep but keen for the children to learn some important lessons about obedience today, and what happens if they break the rules or fail to do as instructed. Up until this point, such disobedience was met with the necessary level of violence. If someone spoke back to a teacher, they received a back-hander. If someone tried to lash out, they would be beaten. The punishments were hard enough to deter others, but not so hard that they stopped the children from occasionally chancing their
luck. Today, all being well, that would change.

Derek Prine, the Headmaster, had
authorised Lana’s treatment after Mr. Jones had explained his plan to him. Instead of worrying about children not doing as they were told, Mr. Jones suggested how one single lesson could ensure no child ever dared refuse an order. Lana was that lesson.

‘You remember Lana, your classmate?’

Mr. Jones was standing by his desk. Lana was next to him, strapped to a wheelchair.

Her head, still wrapped in black tape, hung forward suggesting she was unconscious.

David and his fellow classmates looked on, both confused and scared. Their apprehensive expressions only added to Mr.

Jones’s enthusiasm for what he had planned.

He explained, ‘During the night, Lana underwent a painful procedure. She will now never be able to have children of her own. On the off-chance that the operation failed, we went one step further to ensure
she won’t be able to breed. We removed the majority of her face.’ He patted the tape on top of her head. ‘Trust me when I say, be thankful we have wrapped her head to save you the horrors of how she looks today.’

A child at the back of the class started to cry. Another had a damp patch form in the front of their trousers. Both were ignored by Mr. Jones.

‘We are not unreasonable here. If a child disobeys us, they will get a one strike ruling.

If they say no for a second time, they will have the equivalent done to them down in our basement. They will then, like Lana here, be used to teach other children that disobedience will not be tolerated.

Although, once you’ve sat this particular class, we will be very surprised if we ever hear a “no” again.’ His speech almost done, he added, ‘And it is worth pointing out that not every child gets a one strike ruling.

Depending on how disobedient they are being… Some children will go directly to
the basement and…’ He patted Lana on the head again, the end of his initial speech.

Another look around the room and it was clear his message had been received loud and clear but, this wasn’t the end of the lesson and - what happened during the night

- wasn’t the end of Lana’s punishment. ‘I want you all to stand up. Form a line, one behind the other…’ With no hesitation, they stood. It was clear his message had definitely got through to them but - that was now. He needed it to be something they would never forget.

Mr. Jones picked his briefcase up from where he’d put it on the floor next to his desk, when he first walked in. He opened it and pulled out a small pocketknife. The class watched nervously as he pulled the blade out and locked it in position.

‘As with anyone who finds themselves in Lana’s position, your punishment will not be left to the basement. You will also be used as stress relief for your other
classmates. In this instance, Lana is to be your stress relief. We are aware how hard it can be, finding your feet in a place like this.

You’re confused as to how your life has suddenly changed. You’re frustrated even that it has changed. You might even be angry… Angry for being abandoned, angry at a God for taking your parents, angry at us, or your fellow classmates. Now is your time to relieve yourself of some of that anger; Lana’s gift to you. Each, in turn, come up and take the knife. I want you then to stab young Lana here anywhere you desire. You will not get in trouble if you participate. The trouble only comes from acting out in such a manner away from a controlled environment like that. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Mr. Jones.’

‘Excellent. Then, will the first child please step forward and take the knife…’ He held the knife out as the first boy nervously approached and took it.

Once the student had the knife in hand, he walked over to Lana and - with no hesitation - stabbed it into the top of her leg.

The sudden burst of pain was enough to pull Lana from her unconscious state. The tape, wrapped so tight around her head, stopped her scream from being anything other than muted.

‘Good! Next pupil!’ Mr. Jones sat up on his desk, impressed at how readily each of the students stepped forward to take their turn. The lesson had truly been learned. All being well, he thought, it will stay learned.

For a while, it did.

20

After the success of Lana’s first introductions, within the space of a few days, all classes had been introduced to Lana and told they’d have the same treatment if they misbehaved. For a while, the orphans behaved according to the wants of the teachers taking the various classes with no one daring to stand up for themselves. They were, for all intents and purposes, putty in Hub’s hands.

The perfect students.

* * * * *

The boy was bent over in the front of the classroom. He yelled out in pain. In an effort to hide this obvious pain, he tried his best to change the yell to a full sentence. He screamed out, ‘Thank you, daddy. I love it, daddy…’

Daddy was behind the boy, standing with his trousers round his ankles and his fully erect penis as deep into the ten-year-old as he could thrust. The man watched the young boy’s arse swallow his hard-on as best as it could. Such a sight to help him get over the finish line in just a few more deep thrusts.

He didn’t care when - with each little pull back - he noticed both shit and blood on his shaft. For him, it was all part of the experience and why he volunteered to play the role of “daddy” for the Hub. ‘Oh fuck…’ The man grabbed the boy’s hips and pulled him back hard on his prick. The sting of the pain was so eye-watering that, this time, the boy was unable to “hide” it with a sentence. His cry echoed around the room as
the rest of his classmates, David included, watched, thankful they weren’t yet in this position. Not that any of them would say no.

* * * * *

Identical twins. Eight years old. The two blonde girls were on their knees. They were simultaneously licking the man’s bulging shaft. The way they worked him, a voyeur could have been led to believe they were doing this for their own pleasure as opposed to doing it out of fear.

‘Thank you, daddy, for letting us please you after a hard day at work.’

The pretend daddy pulled away and started to wank his cock until he shot his load over both of their once-innocent faces.

They finished their part well by greedily licking the cum from where he’d splashed around their mouths. Any splatters missed were then fingered from skin to mouth with a collective, Yummy. A mostly hidden
shudder of disgust when they swallowed the gloop down. Lumpy custard.

* * * * *

The class clapped enthusiastically, as though keeping the beat of music only they could hear. Their eyes were fixed to one of their classmates. A boy called Jim.

Jim was on his knees at the front of the class. His head bobbing back and forth on the sixty-year old’s penis. With each swallow of his shaft, the old man’s low hanging balls swung forward and
backwards.

The whole time Jim had the “dad’s” dick in his mouth, he kept his eyes firmly closed; wishing he were anywhere but here and trying his hardest to imagine he was doing nothing but sucking on a flavourless lolly.

With no warning, a heavy load of cum blasted from the old man’s cock. The salty mess dolloped down hard on Jim’s tongue,
both taking him by surprise and making him violently retch. The retch was promptly followed by a gutful of bile which inadvertently sprayed back out over the stranger’s prick.

The class immediately stopped clapping.

They froze with eyes fixed not on their classmate, not on the stranger but on the teacher. The teacher’s eyes were open wide, shocked. By this stage, most of them had had enough practise to know what it was like to catch a bolted mouthful of hot sperm.

There was no excuse for the shock, or spray back. The teacher was about to shout at the pathetic student when Jim did something entirely unexpected. ‘I’m sorry! I can clean it up! I can fix it…’ And, with that, he started licking away at the sick-splashed-shaft. Not only did he clean up the watery bile, but he made sure as to get the chewed-up stringy bits too - right up until the man’s cock was glistening with nothing but frothy saliva.

The old man laughed. ‘Damn, son, don’t stop there. Reckon we can get me a second load.’ He glanced up at the teacher - his boss

- in the hope he’d get authorisation to carry on.

‘Okay, that’s enough! Well done. Now go and get your seat again.’

The old man’s heart sunk.

* * * * *

But, as with most things in life, the good times couldn’t last forever, and it wasn’t long before another student refused to carry out a task asked of him.

21

‘What did you say?’ Mr. Jones wasn’t sure if he’d misheard or whether the lad actually refused to do as he was told.

Mark smiled. ‘I’m not doing it. I said,

“no”.’ At ten years old, Mark was the oldest of the boys in David’s class. It had been his turn to come up to the front and give a “full service” to one of the men posing as a potential father. Up until now, Mark had watched from his place at the back of the class and seeing what the others had to go through. He’d not said anything but, he’d decided he wasn’t going to play ball pretty
much from when the first lad went up to the front.

‘No?’

‘No.’

‘Would you rather be punished? Even knowing how bad the punishment can be, are you honestly saying you’d rather be disciplined for not doing as you’re told?’

‘Yes.’ Mark explained, ‘I’m not a plaything for the amusement of others. I am a human being. We all are.’

Mr. Jones laughed. ‘You’re a toy. A broken one at that.’ He paused a moment.

‘I’m feeling in a generous mood, I’ll give you one more chance to reconsider your answer.’

‘I won’t reconsider.’

‘You can come up here… See how it feels to stroke your daddy and…’

‘He’s not my daddy.’

Mr. Jones paused a moment and then smiled. He didn’t know why he was giving this idiot extra opportunities. So what if it
meant they had one less child to put up for adoption? It’s not as though they had a shortage of kids to supply. What they did have a shortage of, though, was the children they could use as an “example” to keep the others in line. This boy - Mark - had done Mr. Jones a favour by volunteering himself.

‘Well then, it sounds like you have made your decision.’

‘I have.’

Mr. Jones’s smile broadened. ‘Class, say goodbye to Mark. I’m sorry to say he will be leaving us today.’ With a hard gaze, he stared at the defiant boy. ‘Please report to the Headmaster’s office.’

Mark stood with confidence. Unlike with the other children, there was no fear here.

He’d long since decided he’d sooner be dead then live this kind of life. The others watched as he left the room. From their expressions, it was hard to tell if they’d been inspired by this act of bravery.

Bravery?

Mr. Jones shook his head. ‘Silly boy.’ He addressed the rest of the class. ‘The lesson continues. Who’s next?’

22

Mark’s bravery had gone. He screamed as the power drill span down his shaft, pushed in through the mouth of the penis. Just as Lana’s ability to have children had been removed - so too was the same treatment given to Mark and, just as Lana passed out from the pain, so too did Mark.

Mark and Lana’s treatment differed in that those doing the procedures this time around didn’t bother to wait for him to come too before they started hacking at his face.

They were also more careful and methodical with their cutting than Mr. Jones was. As a result, they managed to peel away most of
his face in one layer. With his testicles mangled and face destroyed, the procedure stopped there. There was no one wanting to pull out their dick and masturbate over him, the way Mr. Jones had for Lana, so all that was left was to wrap him with the same

“broken straw” and “masked tape” method as before.

From the back of the room the

Headmaster, Mr. Prine, watched on. Despite his ability to detach himself from any and all emotions, he didn’t take pleasure in seeing the violence put upon the children.

For him, it was lost revenue given he couldn’t then sell the damaged goods to prospective buyers and that was a frustration. That wasn’t to say Mr. Prine didn’t understand the need for such treatments to be given. It was he who had initially authorised it in the first place. If a child wasn’t going to do as they were told, and they got away with it, then it just meant more would turn around and say “no” too.

They needed something like this to keep the others in line and, given Mark was only the second one who needed to be put through this, it was clearly working.

Once Mark’s head was fully wrapped, Patrick turned to Mr. Prine for his approval.

Mr. Prine nodded. ‘Put him with the other one.’

Two men grabbed Mark. One by his ankles and one by his wrists. With little effort, they lifted him from the bench he’d been operated on and carried him from the room. Patrick removed his bloody rubber gloves and tossed them onto the nearby tray of tools. He’d done his work; it was someone else’s job to do the tidying. As he turned to leave, Mr. Prine approached him.

‘How is the other one? The girl?’

‘She got sepsis but is responding to treatment. Even so, I would probably give her a little time off her lessons for a while.’

They were talking about Lana. The time off from her lessons? Reference to her being
used as the lesson, not anything she was supposed to be learning for herself. Despite the many stab wounds she’d suffered, at the hands of her fellow classmates, she was still alive, albeit in not the best shape. Still, according to Patrick, it was nothing a strong dose of antibiotics wouldn’t fix. That being said, his words didn’t go unheard, and Mr.

Prine couldn’t help but be thankful this lad had chosen now to show his disobedience.

In doing so, he’d given Lana the opportunity to rest up and get over her illness. But what if he got ill too? There were only two examples. With one out of commission, that left one remaining. If something happened to him? They had nothing. Realising Mr.

Prine had gone very quiet, Patrick wanted to make sure he’d been heard. ‘I take it that is okay?’

Mr. Prine smiled. ‘Of course it is. And if we break the new one, we can always pick out the weakest of children and turn them into examples.’ It was that ability for cold,
quick-thinking which made Derek Prine a good Headmaster, forever a problem solver.

It also wasn’t a bad idea. Why waste time with the more mentally stunted children?

It’s not as though any of the prospective clients would actively choose a retard anyway. Mr. Prine put the thought on the backburner. For now, it wasn’t necessary.

They had a new example to show off to the children so - all was good. Tomorrow, he would be wheeled out in front of the classes and obedience lessons would start again.

No happy ending here (part 3) TODAY

23

‘We saw him again the next day,’ David was explaining about his classmate, Mark. ‘Not his face though. His head was wrapped up like the girl’s.’

Joe and Ross were sitting with David. All three of them were at the breakfast table still with David telling them more about what had happened with his time in the Hub.

None of it painted a pretty picture but then, with all they already knew, the two men didn’t expect niceties.

‘Did many kids say no?’

David shook his head. ‘Not really. Most of us were too scared. I think there were
four, when I was there? Once or twice someone said “no” but changed their mind soon after so… Nothing happened to them.

It was only the ones who kept saying no that were taken away and brought back the next day, with tape around their heads.’

It had been bad enough hearing about the Hub from the people who ran it but -
hearing all that went on from one of the children? The stories twisted and turned Joe and Ross’s guts, making both men feeling positively sick.

‘What is it?’ Ross had noticed a different kind of look in David’s expression. A small smile as if a thought had just pleased him.

Was there - somehow - a nice memory there? Something positive to share?

‘It felt good,’ he said.

‘I don’t follow. What felt good?’

‘When the boys and girls were brought into the class with the tape on their head, and we were allowed to hurt them…’ His voice trailed off, almost as though he were
too embarrassed to admit what he was feeling or thinking.

‘It felt good?!’ Joe was surprised to hear David say that, especially given how meek he’d appeared the rest of the time but then -
why should he be surprised? Whether he was meek the majority of the time was neither here nor there. This was still the boy who’d had it in him to microwave the family dog. ‘What do you mean it felt good?’

‘I felt bad that I was hurting them but, it was nice too because - when we did - we were told we were good and that we were a credit to the school.’ As if scrambling for a further way to excuse himself, David added,

‘And they were only being hurt because they deserved it. They weren’t just being picked on, were they? They put themselves in that position so… Why would I feel bad about hurting someone who asked for it?’

He paused a moment. An expression of
genuine confusion spread across his face.

‘Am I in the wrong for feeling that way?’

There was no answer to David’s
question. At least, no answer which would have made him feel good about himself.

Ross changed the subject and asked, ‘Did you ever say “no” to anything?’

David shook his head. In the blink of an eye, he was hit with a barrage of memories he’d sooner have forgotten. The first time he sucked a cock. The first time he felt someone cum in his mouth. The second time it happened being the first time he managed to swallow without spitting. The first time he’d licked an old woman’s hairy pussy. Or the time he bent over in a private room as he felt a man piss up into his stinging arse,

“just because”. Then, there were the times he was hit too.

BEFORE

Mr. Jones was standing next to a mean looking woman. Unlike most of the other women who’d come to the classroom, she was fully dressed.

‘Today,’ Mr. Jones addressed the class,

‘we learn about a different kind of stress relief we can provide for our mummy and daddy… This is for the times in which they’ve had an awful day - for whatever reason. As I am sure most of you are aware, it is not good to bury negative emotions. It is far better to purge them from your soul the moment you feel them sneak in… So…’

He pointed to David, ‘You! I want you to come up to your mummy here and I want you to tell her you’re there for her. Tell her you know she has had a bad day and you would like to help her with that. Okay?’

Unsure what was going on, David could only nod in response. Slowly, he got up and came to the front of the class. He stood toe to toe with the woman. The first thing he noticed was the heavy stink of cigarettes
which clung to her. The second thing was the look in her eyes; unlike the other people who’d pretended to be “mother”, there was a meanness which caught David by surprise.

‘Well? Tell her what I just said.’

David hesitated a moment and then continued as instructed, ‘I’m here for you. I can see you have had a bad day and I would like to help you with that.’

The woman smiled. The third and fourth thing David noticed was the yellow-stained teeth (some missing) along with her rancid breath which came from within; a mixture of digestive biscuit, digestive juices, coffee and cigarettes. ‘You’re a good boy.’

Not knowing what was coming his way, David smiled. As horrible as the woman was, it was always nice to hear praise.

Especially in a place that was so quick to punish. The smile quickly disappeared from her face and - then - she slapped him hard.

David’s head jolted to the side and his eyes instantly welled. The woman didn’t stop
there. She grabbed his head and turned it back to facing her. Then, with obvious glee on her cruel face, she started slapping him over and over until he couldn’t hold the tears in any longer. Soon after, as quickly as the onslaught started, she stopped. Her yellow-toothed smile beamed. ‘Thank you, my child. I feel so much better for that.’

24

Despite the horrors felt within the Hub, as time went on everything became more

“normal” and David - along with his classmates - enjoyed the praise they received for doing whatever was asked of them. The beatings and sexual torment was no longer abhorrent or unusual, it was the norm and expected. A little time dealing with the unpleasantries involved with such tasks and then - some praise to carry them through the rest of the day. There were also the rare days in which the children were rewarded for their behaviour too. For the most part it was with extra portions of food,
or time outside exploring the extensive (fenced) gardens. Just as the threat of being taped up and turned into an “example” kept the children on the straight and narrow, so too did the potential rewards they could be offered. All little tricks to manipulate and mould their minds.

David was talking about the rewards now; explaining to both his fathers that it wasn’t always bad, despite how it may have sounded. ‘They let me choose a girl to have sex with,’ he said as though it were a perfectly acceptable scenario to push a child into. David smiled at the memory. ‘There was a pretty girl in my class. She had blue eyes and blonde hair. I like blonde hair the best. I chose her.’

Neither Ross nor Joe picked the moment to ask whether this girl had any say in the matter.

‘They took us into a little room that I hadn’t been in before. I don’t know whether she had. There was a bed in the middle and,
next to that, a camera on some sticks. On one of the walls there was a mirror but, other than that, nothing else. They told me to have fun and they closed the door after saying they would come back when I was finished. I found that weird. How would they know when I was finished?’

BEFORE

Mr. Prine watched the two children through the two-way mirror. With the way they were fucking, him on top of her, he couldn’t help but momentarily forget how old they were.

Clearly classroom training had been good for the pair of them as they fucked like adults. This young girl scratching down the boy’s back. The way he suckled on her flat chest - and all the while not caring about the camera recording them for those wishing to purchase the DVD. This “reward” being another of his ideas in order to raise more funds for the running of the Hub.

In the other room, the girl rolled the boy over and climbed on top of his impressive-for-his-age erection. Mr. Prine chuckled as he watched her beat down on his chest, riding him with actual enthusiasm. From where he was standing, it genuinely looked as though they both liked one another and -
from where he was standing - it made him question whether he was missing a trick.

Instead of selling the DVDs, he could simply sell time to spend with the children.

Let strangers come in and fuck them; get their kicks away from the prying eyes of society. But as tempting as such a thought was, it only opened the door to potential issues. All it would take is for one person to act stupidly to jeopardise all the Hub had created thus far. As quickly as the idea came to mind, Mr. Prine dismissed it.

The young girl slowed her riding as the boy’s body bucked through his pent-up orgasm. She hadn’t cum but, as per the training she’d received in the classroom,
that was to be expected. If it happens it happens but this is not about you.

TODAY

Hearing about the violence was bad enough, especially with the sexual acts the children were forced to go through too but - for some reason, the thought of them being made to have sex with each other, on or off camera, seemed somehow worse to the two parents.

These were children, acting as adults. There was nothing “forced” here - at least not with regards to David having sex with the girl.

They weren’t sure if the girl had a say in whether it happened or not. If she was okay with it then this was a case of two children enjoying one another’s company in the most adult of ways. A worrying sign that, if they believed this to be “okay”, they were too damaged from all they’d been put through.

In short: There was no way back for them to just be children again.

David finished that particular story with a smile on his face. ‘That was a good day.’

Joe forced a smile. ‘Good. I’m glad you had a good day.’ And it was very much a forced smile. A good day for a child should be out playing with friends or watching cartoons all day whilst pigging out on snacks and ice creams. The day he’d described was just another way of earning money from him, and further manipulating him to do as they demanded. Be a good boy and get all the treats. It was sickening.

Ross couldn’t help but apologise again,

‘I’m sorry. You deserved more than this.’

David shrugged. Whilst he wasn’t yet entirely comfortable around Ross and Joe, he knew it wasn’t their fault. As the days went on, he knew they weren’t the same as the people he’d been used to seeing on a day-to-day basis.

Ross continued, ‘You deserved a
childhood. More time to enjoy playing with
friends, exploring, seeing the world through innocent eyes…’

David quietly said, ‘Sometimes we got to play outside…’

‘You did?’

25

BEFORE

The children screamed. Of those screams, David was one of them. Their screams echoed across the front gardens of the estate, not of pain but playful fear. Screams promptly followed by nervous laughter.

A nice afternoon, the children had finished their classes for the day and had been allowed out front due to their good behaviour. A little reward for a job well done.

There was more space out the back but, the front was more secure with its gated entrance and high fences whereas the rear of
the property led on to dense woodlands with nothing stopping a child from running, if they so chose.

The children didn’t mind playing out front though, mostly thanks to the large decorative water fountain in the middle of the driveway. That was where they’d gathered now, watching in horror as one of the boys wrestled a frog from the murky waters. He triumphantly held it up towards his friends and - for a second time - they screamed as they scattered away, fearful he was going to throw it at them.

‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING?’ Ryan’s
voice called from the orphanage’s open front door. Just as the kids’ screams and laughter had echoed across the gardens, so too did his booming voice. All the children immediately froze. He wasn’t eyeballing the one boy with the frog. He was addressing everyone, fed up with the noise as a whole.

Ryan - the Headmaster’s right-hand man

- had come out to round the children up.

They’d been playing for twenty minutes now and, that was long enough. Especially as the orphanage was expecting a visit within the next hour. The prospective clients did not need to pull up and see noisy brats running amok. Instead the children would be forced into a mock class, learning something “normal” like maths or English.

That always looked more impressive to the clients, should they wish to have a guided tour of the facilities.

‘Get inside now. Change of plans for the afternoon.’ He stepped to the side and watched as the children started to make their way indoors.

David hung back for a moment. He’d not been able to take his eyes off the boy with the frog. Even with the others filing into the house now, he still hadn’t gone to put the frog down. David asked, ‘What are you going to do with it?’

The boy looked at him. ‘If I put it down, he’ll hop off.’

‘Probably.’

‘How’s that fair?’

David frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s a frog.’

‘I know.’

‘How can a frog be free to hop off, but we’re not allowed?’

David shrugged, unsure what to say. ‘It’s a frog. They have different rules.’

‘It’s not fair.’

David didn’t argue with him. He tried to change the subject, ‘We need to go in now.’

‘I know. I heard.’ In a sudden show of violence, the boy threw the frog down on the ground using enough force to momentarily stun it. In that moment, he lifted his foot and stamped down on the frog’s head. In an instant David turned away in both shock and disgust as the frog’s skull cracked first and was then crushed to pulp.

The boy laughed.

‘You two! Get inside now!’

David didn’t move. He stayed rooted to the spot, visibly shaken by what had happened. His classmate scraped his foot clean on the edge of the fountain and hurried towards the orphanage’s entrance.

When he was alone, David couldn’t help himself but to glance down at the frog’s remains. Its back leg was in spasm.

26

TODAY

Despite explaining how he’d been disgusted with what happened to the frog, there was a distinct lack of remorse or disgust in David’s face now, as noticed by both Ross and Joe. Neither of them were surprised given the apparent lack of remorse shown over the family dog. Such a lack of guilt or sorrow was surely a sign that he was too damaged now by all that he’d witnessed and partaken in. A further sign that he couldn’t be pulled back from the abyss and - for both men - a worrying thought with regards to the other children too. Had the Hub
inadvertently created a small army of psychopaths? Each little mind shaped into someone who’d do as told, but damaged enough to potentially snap at any given moment? With no emotion or clear concept between right and wrong, were they “lucky”

David only went after the dog? What if he’d tried to hurt them in order to get a reaction?

Uncomfortable with the way he was being looked at, David shifted nervously in his seat. ‘Don’t look at me like that.’

Both father-figures were aware they were concerned, not only of David’s mental state but the rest of the children too, but they weren’t aware they’d been that obvious about it. Nor were they aware they were both having the exact same worries. ‘We’re not looking at you like anything.’ Joe said,

‘We’re just worried about you.’ Technically it wasn’t a lie. Both he and Ross were worried about David. It’s just the more they talked with him, the more they were worried as to whether he was too far gone.

‘You shouldn’t look at me like that!’

‘We haven’t meant to look at you in any way. We’re just worried about you. We’re sorry.’

Ross interrupted, ‘Hey, why don’t you go get your shoes and we can go to the arcades.’ He turned to Joe and pointed out,

‘I think a change of scenery will do all of us some good, don’t you?’ Joe sat back, thankful for Ross’s interruption. David didn’t immediately move. ‘What do you say? You want to go to the arcade? Bit of air hockey?’ David was still looking at them with a blank expression on his face.

Eventually, he shrugged. ‘Come on, go and get your shoes on. It’ll be fun.’

David held their gaze for a couple more moments as he tried to work out what they were really thinking. When he realised he couldn’t, he left the room to go and find his shoes. Joe immediately sat back and started to rub his stressed temples. Ross looked at him sympathetically. He could see that Joe
was finally on the same page as he was with regards to wondering if they’d ever be able to save their son. He asked, ‘I take it you’re not as optimistic about things now? The whole everything’s going to be alright thing?’

Joe glanced at Ross. The look in his eyes

- sorrow, regret and frustration - said it all.

‘So what are we going to do? I think it’s fairly obvious now that we aren’t the right fit for him. He needs help. Professional help and even then, I honestly don’t think it will be enough. Him and the rest of the kids in that place.’

Joe sighed. ‘I honestly thought we could help him.’

‘And, I hoped we would have been able to, but you’ve heard him… What he has been through, the fact he likes hurting people… This is a kid with some real deep seated trauma.’

’So what do you suggest we do then?

Because it’s not like that shit-hole provides a receipt…’

‘I don’t know! I don’t know what we’re going to do but earlier you were all, everything’s going to be okay when clearly it’s not going to be okay. I just need to see that you’re at least on the same page as me, even if we don’t know the way forward.’ He stopped talking as he felt his anger - and voice - starting to rise. Now was not a time to escalate things into a full-blown domestic between the two of them but, he’d not felt

“right” about this new family dynamic within days of getting David home from the Hub. These last couple of days had pushed him over the edge and - frankly - it pissed him off that, until now, he seemed to be the only one getting it.

Given where they’d got David from, they hadn’t yet registered him with the doctors surgery so they couldn’t exactly take him there for some guidance on therapy options.

The Hub had stated, with the given fee, they’d be providing all the necessary paperwork to give David a backstory as to how he came to be in their lives but, so far, it had yet to materialise. Even then, there was a big question mark hanging over how bullet-proof it would be if it was scrutinised too closely.

‘You know we can’t sit back and do nothing about the other children too?’

Joe laughed. ‘You want us to help them when we can’t even help the one child we did manage to get away from there? How exactly do you propose we do that?’

‘I don’t know! I just know we can’t sit back and do fuck all. Some of the kids there… Some of them might still have a chance to be saved. They might not all be as damaged as…’ His voice trailed off. The end of the sentence was going to be David’s name and - out on the stairs, listening to the conversation - David knew it.

After he’d heard enough, David got up from where he’d perched himself on the stairs, midway up. Quietly, he walked up to his bedroom. Despite hearing his two dads essentially say there was no saving him, and that they didn’t know what to do about him, he didn’t feel any sadness. There were no tears, there was no tantrum. There was nothing but an overwhelming feeling of emptiness and a nagging voice in the back of his head that they were right. There was no saving him.

He closed his bedroom door and crossed the room to where the bed was against the wall. Silently, he sat. His eyes drifted down to the carpeted floor and - if only to feel a little normal - he tried to force himself to cry. Still no tears came; the more he concentrated, the drier his eyes felt. Sitting there, trying to force it, his mind drifted back to the last time he could remember crying; a memory sooner left in the depths of his mind yet here it was, pulled back to
the surface by a brain which clearly had no issues in tormenting him.

27

BEFORE

The naked woman laid on her back with David between her legs. His hard penis as deep inside her as it could get, which wasn’t saying much given its size.

Whilst David was doing all he could to satisfy the woman, it was clear she wasn’t into his efforts. Instead of laying back and enjoying the moment, she found herself studying his face; lost in thought as to what could have landed the young boy in such a place.

The pair were in a private room. Unlike the “mothers” brought into the classrooms, this was a private lesson for which the woman had paid a hefty fee to attend. A fantasy, she thought, to allow a young boy to lose his virginity in her well-worn pussy.

In reality, she knew he wasn’t a virgin.

Despite not being one of the main models for the classroom side of things, she was well aware of what happened in the Hub.

For her, it didn’t matter that he’d lost his virginity long ago. She could still pretend given how young he was. That being said, the fantasy was better in her head, and she was struggling to get herself off on it.

‘How did you end up in an orphanage?’

Her question came out of the blue and caused David to stop what he was doing.

‘Am I not doing it right?’ Even though this wasn’t a classroom setting, he still knew the same rules applied. He needed to perform; to do what was asked of him. If he
failed, it would be considered as disobedience, and he’d be punished.

‘Don’t stop. Keep going,’ the woman said, with soft words of encouragement.

Confused about why she’d asked her original mood-killing question, he continued. For a moment, if only to help him find his pace again, she started to breathe heavily as though he were hitting the right spots. He still wasn’t. ‘Had did you come to be in the orphanage?’ This time, when she asked her question, David didn’t stop but neither did he answer. Her question wasn’t one which had been asked before and he wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to tell the truth or not. ‘Did your mummy and daddy die? Was it some sort of accident?’

David realised the questions were going to keep coming. If only to stop them, he answered with basic information only. ‘I didn’t know my dad.’

‘Okay, so mummy. Did she die?’

David hesitated a moment, slowing his pace. He answered the question, ‘She’s alive.’ And, he picked up the pace again.

‘If she is alive, why are you not with her?

Did she not love you?’

David didn’t answer the question.

Instead, he closed his eyes up tight and continued to barely penetrate the woman -
desperate to get the act over with so their time together could come to an end.

The woman pressed on, ‘What did your mother used to call you?’

‘Davey.’

There was a moment’s pause when, suddenly, the woman started to moan softly.

First the moans came as little sighs and, shortly after, groans of pleasure. David continued doing what he was doing, believing he’d finally started to hit the right spot to please her. Her moaning continued,

‘Oh, Davey… Yes, Davey… Yes, Davey.

That’s it, Davey…’ She sighed as she faked an orgasm. ‘That’s it, Davey… That’s the
spot. Right there, Davey…’ To further fake her orgasm, she purposefully shuddered her body. ‘Oh, Davey… You’re a good boy, Davey… And that’s why mummy loves you so much…’

Despite the faked orgasm, David didn’t stop thrusting into his mother. He wasn’t groaning with pleasure though, he was crying. Still with his eyes closed tight, he was imagining his own mum laying beneath him. Her nails digging into his back.

‘Don’t cry, Davey… It’s okay…

Everything is going to be okay. Mummy is here now… I’m sorry I left you, but I am back now, baby… I’m back Davey and we can be a family again.’

David’s body twitched and less than a split second later, a shot of sticky spunk shot from his cock, deep inside the stranger beneath him. The woman giggled as she felt his penis pulse at the entrance of her wet vagina.

‘Mummy loves you.’ With that, she kissed him on his sweaty cheek.

28

David was sitting on the edge of the bed.

The woman had long since got dressed and left the private room, leaving him as alone as the two-way mirror allowed. He was staring at the wall; nothing in particular, just staring with dried tear marks stained into his pale cheeks.

Over the days and weeks, David had done well and pushing thoughts of his mother down until he could barely recollect what her face looked like. The woman - this stranger - had pulled that face right up out of the darkness once more and it was all he could see now. Not the vacant look on her
face, when she was using, but the look she had before the drugs took ahold; back when she actually loved her son. At least, back when David believed she loved him.

The door opened. Mr. Jones was standing there, surprised to see the pupil had yet to get himself dressed. ‘Get cleaned up. It’s almost lunch time.’

David didn’t move. He didn’t even cast a casual glance over in Mr. Jones direction.

His eyes stayed firmly fixed on the same spot on the wall.

‘Did you hear me? Get cleaned up.

Lunch is almost ready.’ When David failed to respond for a second time, Mr. Jones walked over to him. He leaned down until they were face to face but, instead of fixing his view to Mr. Jones’s face, David stared right through him. Mr. Jones hadn’t seen anyone as vacant as this before and decided to test how far-gone David actually was. He stood up straight and moved his hand to the boy’s face. Slowly he pushed his thumb into

David’s mouth but, still, David didn’t respond. Mr. Jones snorted. Mildly a m u s i n g … M i l d l y a m u s i n g b u t …

Disobedient. He pulled his thumb from David’s mouth and, in the same movement, slapped him hard across the face. It was enough to bring David back to reality but, surprisingly, not enough to make him cry out. David slowly adjusted his gaze so as to look at the teacher standing before him.

Despite the slap, the vacant look within his brown eyes remained.

‘Lunch.’

David got up, gathered his clothes and -
without stopping to put them on - walked from the room.

* * * * *

Dressed but still not exactly “with it”, David had taken his usual seat in the orphanage’s canteen. As he sat there, staring ahead, he wasn’t touching his bread and soup; the

latter of which was now stone cold, not that this would get him off the hook for not eating it. Once something was dished up, students had to clear their plates or face the wrath of the kitchen staff. The usual punishment being to stand there, arms outstretched, and have their knuckles wrapped with a wooden spoon. Today, David didn’t care.

Others sitting around him could tell all was not right but, no one said anything. The only talking ever heard in the canteen was the sound of the teachers’ voices as they discussed this and that. Today’s discussion was focused on David after Mr. Jones had come in and spotted him with that same gormless look on his face.

‘Look at him. We’ve either made the perfect student or one who’ll prove trouble moving forward.’ Mr. Jones spoke loudly enough for David to hear but, still, David didn’t react.

TODAY

It was a weird time to get the teachers’

conversation playing back on his mind but, hardly unexpected given the way his dads had been talking about him in the kitchen. It appears they all thought David was a problem.

With the thoughts racing through his tired mind, David was still sitting on the edge of the bed with his eyes staring ahead.

They weren’t staring at a convenient spot on the wall though. They’d settled on the chair at the far side of the room. More specifically, they’d settled upon the dressing gown hanging there. Slowly but surely, the thoughts drifted to that of his ex-classmate and - the scene played through once more; asking if he needed help, being blanked, the pupil leaving the room, the sleepless night and the piercing scream pulling him from what little slumber he did have. With the
thoughts today? The realisation that the suicidal boy had the right idea all along.

There is no point in struggling in this shitty world when we can - just as easily -
draw our curtains whenever we choose. A single tear rolled from David’s left eye.!

Return to the Hub TODAY

29

Beautiful English countryside. Fields stretched as far as the eyes could see. Tall trees in the distance, standing upon hills -
reaching up to the sun above. The sun itself, partly hidden by a blanket of white clouds.

The few gaps there were, allowing warm rays to beam through and kiss upon the earth below. Winding roads, empty of rush-hour traffic; most vehicles sticking to the motorways for the more direct routes to where they were going. Then, around a tight right-hand bend and seemingly out of nowhere, there it stood; an impressive mansion, despite some parts looking as
though they were in a state of disrepair. A declaration from the car’s in-built satellite navigation system, You have arrived at your destination.

The building, gothic in appearance, had stood since before the second world war; passed down from generation to generation, until being sold off due to family debt.

Today it was used as an orphanage, known -
and visited by - only the wealthy.

The first time Joe and Ross had come to the property, they’d hired an expensive car to help them look the part of a couple who could actually afford to be there. Now, they didn’t give a shit about the impression they gave upon their approach. The battered old Ford Focus skidded to a halt inches from the water fountain.

Ross, sitting in the passenger seat, flung the door open and jumped from the vehicle.

Joe did the same, leaving the engine running. The pair met at the back of the car.

Joe opened the boot. David’s cold body was
there, barely covered by a sheet. Not the reason they’d come to the boot… Next to the covered body, there was a small bag.

Ross leaned in and grabbed it.

‘Can I help you?’ Ryan’s voice called out from the orphanage’s doorway. He’d come running the moment he heard the car pull up. At the sound of his voice, Joe slammed the boot down, hiding David’s body from sight. Without immediately recognising the two men, he pointed out, ‘We run on an appointment only basis. If you want to make a booking…’ As Joe and Ross approached him, he realised who they were, but this didn’t give him any peace of mind; not with how they’d approached. ‘Gentlemen!

Lovely to see you again. Is everything okay?’

‘We’re here to see Mr. Prine.’

‘Like I said, we run on appointments here. We try to discourage people from showing up out of the blue. We find it disrupts the day to day running of the
orphanage. If you’d like, I can escort you back to your car and we can make an appointment?’ As Ryan tried to block the men, Joe pushed him away with a hefty shove freeing up their way into the mansion.

They didn’t wait for Ryan to steady his balance, not that it took him long. He chased after them. ‘This is private property; you can’t just walk in uninvited. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’

‘Call the police,’ Ross said. ‘We insist.’

Ryan didn’t need telling twice. He stopped chasing and pulled his mobile phone from his pocket. Ross probably thought he was being clever but, Ryan could make a call. It wasn’t to the police. Not when he could go higher than the local department and get officers faster than a standard 999 call.

Joe and Ross continued down the
hallway, back towards the Headmaster’s office where they’d once pretended to be excited clients. An act which disgusted both
of them but one they went along with in order to get what they wanted: A family.

Had they known how their story was to end, they never would have subjected themselves to any of what they’d seen and heard. They could have lived their entire lives with never needing to know what had happened here.

Ignorance, they say, is bliss.

As they neared the Headmaster’s office, Joe quickened his pace. With the adrenaline still surging through him, he gripped the handle and yanked the door open.

30

Mr. Prine barely flinched when the door to his office burst open. He was sitting behind his desk, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed look on his face which only fuelled the rage both Joe and Ross felt. Already smiling, his smile broadened when he remembered who they were. ‘Gentlemen.

So lovely to see you again. Please, come in and take a seat.’

Confused by his lack of reaction. They entered the room. Joe closed the door behind them. Before he took the offered seat, he dragged a chest of drawers over to
stop the door from beingd opened again. Mr.

Prine didn’t bat an eyelid.

‘Am I to take it you’re not here to enquire about a second adoption?’ As he spoke, he leaned his head back against his leather chair and closed his eyes. In the brief pauses of silence between them, Joe and Ross knew there was a fourth person in the room; the sound of sucking from under Mr.

Prine’s table. With his eyes still closed, enjoying what was happening under the table, Derek Prine continued, ‘How is young…’ He hesitated a moment as he tried to recollect the name. It came to him.

‘David.’ He started again, stringing the sentence together, ‘How is young David? I do trust things are going swimmingly at home? One big happy family…’ His smile broadened. ‘If memory serves correctly, he scored fairly high in his classes so I’m sure he is hitting all the right notes for…’

‘He’s dead,’ Ross said, interrupting the Head as he put the bag on his lap.

Mr. Prine paused a moment. He opened his eyes and looked at the two men, curious to see if this was a level of dark humour he wasn’t used to. From their expressions, it was obvious it wasn’t. ‘I am sorry to hear that. He was a good lad. May I ask…’

‘He hanged himself.’

Again, there was a slight pause. Within that pause, the sound of someone still

“working” under the table which separated them. ‘We don’t offer refunds or discounts on future adoptions if that is what you’re looking…’ He stopped talking and raised his finger in a can you wait a moment kind of gesture. Joe and Ross watched as Derek’s body jolted and he let out a loud sigh of gratification. ‘Goddamn!’ He slammed his fist down triumphantly on the top of the desk as, from below, there was the sound of a heavy gulp. Semen swallowed. Mr. Prine, orgasm over, suddenly became very self-conscious. ‘I’m sorry about that.’ He reached beneath the table and adjusted
himself before taking a cookie from the top drawer of his desk. Ross and Joe watched as he fed the cookie beneath the table.

Satisfied, hungry crunching. ‘So tell me, gentlemen, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?’

Ross opened the bag and withdrew a bottle of lighter fluid and a box of matches.

He set it down on the table, closer to him than the Head. From where he was sitting, Mr. Prine could see there were more bottles in the bag. He smiled as - for a minute - they all sat there in near silence. The sound of happy crunching.

31

BEFORE

Joe screamed out as he pulled David down from the shower curtain rail. He’d hanged himself in such a way, he could have easily changed his mind at any time just by standing up straight, if only he’d wanted to live. ‘No, no, no… What have you done?

What have you done? ’ Joe laid David down on the bathroom floor. The mat was still wet from the earlier shower, not that he cared.

With the boy flat on his back, he loosened the cord from around his neck and immediately started to perform CPR.

Drawn by Joe’s frantic screams, Ross appeared in the doorway. He was
momentarily frozen by the shock of what he was confronted with.

‘Help me! Call someone!’ Joe looked at him, desperation in his eyes as he continued pushing down on the motionless boy’s chest. Still, Ross didn’t move. ‘Fucking call someone!’

Ross went to move for the phone but stopped himself as a thought came to mind.

Quietly, he said, ‘Stop.’ Joe didn’t hear him.

He was calling for David to “breathe” over and over, desperate to hear him take in a gasp of air. Ross said it louder, ‘Stop!’

Joe didn’t stop. He continued giving basic life support as he looked up to his husband with confusion on his panicked face. ‘What are you doing? Call an ambulance.’

Ross shook his head. ‘No.’ He walked over to where Joe hunched over David. He said again, ‘No.’ He put his hands on Joe
and pulled him away with far less resistance than what he’d imagined there would be.

‘Just stop…’ He hugged Joe tight as Joe turned into him and openly wept; the emotion of everything crashing down around him: The abuse David and the other children had been forced to endure, the dog, the stories he’d heard, the knowledge there was no saving his boy - even more apparent now - and the fact people like him were, in part, to blame. They’d known about the Hub for months prior to getting their appointment. They knew some of what happened there and had plenty of opportunity to try and whistle-blow but, such was their desperation for a family of their own, they did nothing. Had they stepped in earlier, perhaps this could have been avoided? Doubtful and yet this was what was going through Joe’s racing mind.

Ross said nothing. He just held his husband close.

‘I want to kill them.’ Joe said again, ‘I want to kill them all.’ There was no argument from Ross. ‘None of them deserve to live… Not a single one of them.’ And the first display of their vengeance was aimed solely at the Headmaster. The ringmaster of the circus.

32

TODAY

‘Derek! Are you okay?!’ Ryan was banging on the office door, after being blocked from opening it thanks to the chest of drawers.

‘I’ve called for help and they’re on their way…’ He banged again. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine other than a headache from all your incessant banging!’ Derek called out from where he was still sitting behind his desk. Despite the threat of the lighter fluid -
and being set on fire - he wasn’t showing any fear towards the two ex-clients. ‘I’m curious,’ he said, addressing them directly.

‘Why are you here again? Your boy took his own life, so you’ve decided to come and set me on fire like I’m somehow responsible?

What, do you think we put some kind of chip in their brains and - when we want repeat custom - we trigger it, causing the child to commit suicide and the parents to come rushing back to us to get themselves another child? All sounds a bit farfetched; don’t you think?’ It might have sounded all very “science fiction” with the way he worded it but, Ross and Joe did believe Mr.

Prine - and the other stuff - were responsible for putting “something” in the children’s brains; bad ideas, coupled with a feeling of complete neglect and you had two ingredients for making someone want to die.

Mr. Prine laughed. ‘Okay if you’re not going to tell me… What’s the plan? Set me on fire and burn the place down? Fine. Go ahead. But think of the poor children.’

Joe snapped. ‘The poor children? David told us everything you put him through. He
told us how, with your encouragement, he and the other children found themselves liking it, when they hurt other people when called upon to do so… These kids… Once sweet and innocent… They’re not children anymore. They’re damaged goods. If this place burns down - with them stuck inside -
we’d probably be doing them a favour.’

Mr. Prine shook his head. ‘I’m a businessman. I have provided countless couples the opportunity to grow their family in a way they’ve often fantasised about…’

‘You’ve provided countless couples the opportunity to prey upon children and you’ve profiteered from it too.’

‘Couples like yourselves.’

‘We didn’t want to hurt the child we adopted. David. We wanted to save him. We only came to you because it was easier than trying to navigate adoption agencies and cut through their red tape.’

‘It doesn’t matter why you came to me.

You came to me. I helped. I didn’t judge
you. I didn’t question you. I provided what you requested, did I not? When you took David home, you didn’t bitch and moan about the way things were run here. In fact, if memory serves correctly, you shook me by the hand and you thanked me. Now you’ve spent time with the boy, you’ve grown a conscience to what happens here?

Really? Now he has killed himself you feel guilty about everything else. Get the fuck out of here. You’re pathetic. You didn’t get the happy ever after that you wanted so -
fuck everyone else, right?’ He laughed. ‘Do you really think I am a monster?’ He reached under the table and beckoned for the child to come out.

A young girl - five years old - crawled out. She had the remnants of the cookie around her mouth, along with a dollop of cum on her chin. She was smiling from ear to ear when looking at the Headmaster.

Mr. Prine spoke directly to the little girl,

‘These two men think you don’t like it here.

Do you like it here?’

She nodded.

‘Am I horrible to you?’

She shook her head and then hesitated.

‘Well, only if I am naughty…’

‘Only if you’re naughty. And are you naughty often?’

She shook her head again.

‘Good girl.’ He shot the two men a “fuck you” look and turned back to the girl.

‘Would you be upset if you had to leave here?’

She nodded again; a girl whose mind was broken from all she’d been through. The perfect little “yes” lady.

‘You’d be upset if these two men hurt me?’

She turned to Joe and Ross, anger in her eyes. ‘You aren’t allowed to hurt him. He’s my friend.’

Joe shook his head. His eyes full of sorrow for all he’d imagined the girl to have gone through. ‘Oh, darling, he isn’t your friend.’

‘Yes. He. Is!’ She stamped her foot.

‘Okay. That’ll be all.’ Mr. Prine gave her a cheeky little pat on her backside. No longer needed, she went to go back under the table only to be stopped by Mr. Prine.

‘Ah, ah, ah… You might want to go and stand over there.’ He pointed her towards the far wall, on the off chance the two men made good on their promise and set him alight. No need to ruin the merchandise. He turned back to Joe and Ross with a smirk on his face. ‘Burning a man alive, in front of a little girl no less. Surely that puts you and I on the same level? I mean, do you honestly think this is something she’ll be able to forget? Never mind the sight but the smell too… That’ll stay with her forever.’ He raised a finger and added, ‘Keep in mind though - cut the head off the Hydra and a
new one takes over. This will work in much the same way but, please… Do as you please.’ From the way he spoke, it was obvious Mr. Prine didn’t believe they’d carry their threat any further. A belief which was further cemented when neither man went to move. He laughed. ‘One question though. Do you question your parenting skills?’

‘What are you talking about?’ Ross didn’t want to engage in conversation but, at the same time, he wasn’t ready to follow through with the initial plan. The last sane part of his brain holding him back from ruining his life forever. One thing to think about it. Another thing to carry it through.

By engaging, he could stall long enough to think through his actions properly.

‘You say we put something in his mind to make him kill himself. What exactly I don’t know. But could it be nothing to do with us?

He was living with you when he committed suicide, I mean. If we were that bad, surely
he would have done it here, long before you met him? So my question is, what did you do to push him into taking his own life?’

Ross had no answer for him. Seeing this, Mr. Prine laughed. ‘It’s not too late to just turn around and leave. To show there are no hard feelings, I won’t even press charges for trespassing or tell them what you threatened to do to me. Just turn around and walk on out the door.’

As much as Joe hated the Head, and all he stood for, he was hesitating about how to proceed too. He turned to Ross and asked him, ‘What are we doing?’

Mr. Prine continued adding to their confusion, ‘Maybe he wanted the life we trained him for? Maybe he wanted to please you in ways you once told me you yearned for, even if you were just “pretending” …

What if he wanted this life and was disappointed in you as parents? He didn’t want to spend the rest of his days with you.

See, suicide would be a viable option for
someone who thought they had no other choice. Makes sense to me.’

The more the Headmaster rambled on, the more Ross’s mind twisted back around to their original plan. Had he kept his grand speech to the minimal it might have been a different story but - no - Ross knew he was being manipulated. He raised the lighter fluid once more and, this time, squirted it over Mr. Prine. The little girl screamed and backed into the corner of the room, scared of any splash back.

‘Fuck you!’ Mr. Prine spat some of the fluid from his mouth. ‘Fuck is wrong with you…’

Hearing the commotion, Ryan banged on the door again. ‘What’s happening in there?

Is everything okay?’

Mr. Prine didn’t answer. The cockiness he once felt had all but vanished as he looked into both Ross’s and Joe’s eyes. Any doubt they had a moment ago had all but gone. Now, burning clearly, there was only
hate. Ross took a match from the box and -
as a smile spread on his face - he struck it.

33

BEFORE

Joe was surprised Ross wasn’t trying to stop him as he loaded the various cans of lighter fluid into the bag. He had no idea why he’d managed to stockpile such a collection over the years - usually buying a new one every time barbecue season came around - but he didn’t care either, given how they were now, finally, coming in useful. ‘I thought you’d try and stop me.’ He glanced across to the garage doorway, where Ross was standing.

Ross was watching him with his eyes raw from crying. He slowly shook his head. ‘I’m
not about to stop you. If you weren’t going to do it, I was.’

‘I just can’t ignore it. I tried… Ever since we left that place I’ve tried… Putting it out of my head and moving on with my life but, I can’t. Especially not now.’

‘I know. And I get it. You don’t need to explain anything to me.’

‘We shouldn’t have ignored it. So what if no one believed us, or they buried us in legal paperwork or whatever. We should have tried to do something.’ He tossed the last of the cans of lighter fluid into the bag.

‘Well, fuck it, let’s see how they handle this…’ His plan, thought of without fear of consequence, was to go to the orphanage and burn it to the ground. He didn’t care if they were wealthy enough to rebuild someplace else. At least it might have afforded the children a little time away from the Hub’s cruel lessons. An opportunity for someone to find them and realise what is going on… A good person who’d properly
be able to do something about what was going on there. Better people than Joe and Ross. ‘And if they rebuild then - fine - we can burn it down again and again and again until they run out of properties to fill.’ He picked the bag up and tossed it across the room to Ross who, purely on instinct, caught it. ‘You don’t have to come with me.

You can pretend you knew nothing about it.’

Ross looked insulted by the suggestion.

As if he would let his husband do this alone.

During their marriage vows, they’d promised to stick by one another’s side through thick and thin. He wasn’t going anywhere. Besides, at least it meant - if caught - they’d be going to prison together.

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he said. ‘We’ll burn it all down.’ And then again, to ensure the message was heard loud and clear, ‘ We will burn it down…’

Joe smiled. ‘Thank you.’

TODAY

The Headmaster screamed as his body caught alight. He immediately stood, arms waving frantically around, and ran around to the other side of the desk to attack the two men with his final moments. Both had pretty much jumped up the moment the flames took ahold. In an effort to keep him at bay, they held him back with their chairs as, in the corner of the room, the young girl screamed at the sight of the burning man.

Sight.

Smell.

Barbecued meat, burned.

Flames licking away at flesh. Blisters pealing back the skin; some popping little sacks of clear fluid. His eyes, melting. The scream - so high pitched it could have been mistaken as being female. The scream -
drowning out the sound of the young girl’s.

As Joe held the burning man at bay, with his chair held out in front of him, Ross took a swing with his. It hit Mr. Prine square on
the body with enough force to send him tumbling over the desk he’d once sat at. The table caught fire from where the fluid had splashed down when first squirted over onto Mr. Prine. He didn’t get back up as the ever-hungry flames continued consuming his clothes, hair and flesh. Not convinced he wouldn’t spring back up as though in some terrible horror film; Ross raised his chair and kept it ready to bring crashing down if needed. Joe threw his to the empty corner of the room and immediately rushed over to the chest of drawers; a need to move them so they could escape - him, Ross… and the girl. As he shoved the drawers, he glanced over to the girl. ‘It’s going to be…’ His sentence choked in the back of his throat.

The girl was standing there, next to the bag Ross had dropped in all of the excitement.

She was closer than before and screaming no more. ‘What are you doing?’ In each of her two hands, she was clutching a can of
lighter fluid; lids off and bottles aimed. ‘Put those…’

A quick move. The girl squeezed the bottles hard. The liquid sprayed out, first over the roaring flames ensuring the rest of the jettison of fluid sparked up and then -
towards Joe first and then Ross… She was no longer screaming, only laughing. Both cans, soon empty. The screams of the two husbands - coming together in a godawful din that filled the halls of the orphanage and…

Onwards and upwards EPILOGUE

Mr. Jones took centre-stage in the assembly hall. ‘We gather here to remember Mr.

Derek Prine; the Headmaster and founder of the Hub. His shoes will be difficult to fill but I won’t allow his legacy to fall by the wayside. Together, we will pick up the pieces and push forward; to continue in his honour, as he would have wanted.’ It had been a few days since the break-in, which is what they were reporting the incident as. All who had been in the burning room had died from their injuries including, ‘Sophie. And we are here to remember Sophie, the brave little girl who thought quickly and intervened, before the two terrorists could do any further damage. A brave little girl who died for you. For us. She will be remembered forever and - in her honour - a new marble statue will be added to the row of status aligning our drive so that, whenever we come or go, we will forever remember her sacrifice for us and the Hub.’

He paused a moment, if only for dramatic
effect. ‘She was a good girl and one to whom you should all aspire to be.’ Mr.

Jones let the words sink in for a moment before he continued, ‘No matter how bad things may sometimes be here, we are -
each and every one of us - a family and as Sophie has just proven once again, families look out for one another.’ Another pause to let the words sink in. ‘Now it has been an incredibly stressful few days so - as promised - we will take this day away from our regular schedule to enjoy our freedom, to enjoy what Sophie sacrificed herself for…’

Mr. Jones surveyed the room. The long-term pupils had gathered in the centre of the hall. The chairs had been moved to the edges. The children’s clothes draped over the back of them. In the centre of the room, a mass intertwining of bodies, stroking and caressing one another, kissing, licking, nibbling, suckling. Around the outsides of the room, teachers filmed the orgy with
obvious enthusiasm on their faces. Behind them, as pressed to the wall as they could get, the newer pupils - yet to see this side of the orphanage - huddled together, scared and confused.

Mr. Jones watched on as the proud new Headmaster. He smiled as the children frolicked and fucked. He smiled as the cameras caught it all; the perfect content to sell to those not wishing, or able to afford, to take a child of their own, but who still had urges to scratch. The perfect content to rebuild all that the fire had damaged…

The perfect content to help them grow; to come back better than before.

END

Ever dreamed of writing your own book?

Matt Shaw has been writing for over twenty years.

For more than a decade he has been doing it as his full-time career.

Over the last year he has decided to teach his techniques to others; what worked for him and what didn’t.

Each lesson is tailor-made to the individual and done on a one-to-one basis. The goal of the lessons being to teach you all you need to know in order to push forward with a career of your own.

If you wish to know more information, please email :

matt@mattshawpublications.co.uk

Who is Matt Shaw?

Matt Shaw is the published author of over 400
stories. Originally making his name in the splatter-punk and extreme horror genres, he also writes psychological horrors, thrillers, suspense, bizarro fiction, comedy, non-fiction and even erotica. Under the pen name of Mr. E. Scares, he has even written a series of children’s books.

Matt’s work has been translated to French, German, Polish, Korean and Japanese and, in 2018, he set up his own film company, Purgatory Pictures, in order to adapt his own work into feature films.

Since then, he has made numerous short films and six feature films with his directorial debut, Monster, winning Best Film at the Dead all Day Film Festival.

Find signed books and more:

www.mattshawpublications.co.uk