Without really thinking about it, Merritt Sivertsen, now an almost impossibly good looking 11 ½ year old boy, immediately went straight into putting up a front of complete weakness. He stumbled toward the two voices, falling to his knees and bit the inside of one cheek hard to help his eyes water, to cry enough to get tears to drop down through the bag over his head to his smooth little chest.
“What-what is this?” he pleaded. “All I did was record some guys who wanted to bang me. I-I do that all the time. You wouldn't believe what I have to put up with. Let me go! I’m-I’m missing school, I think. Please let me go! I don’t even understand what this is?”
He bit hard on the inside of his other cheek and forced more tears to flow down his cheeks and drop out of the bag onto his chest.
He heard them sniff dismissively.
“You were recording us while we were talking business. Who are you working for?”
“W-working for . . . ? What?! I-I play these things for my buddies.”
“Who are you working for?!” thundered Jacobs now from just a few feet away, Merritt could tell.
“I-I play recordings for a joke for my buddies they’re 6th graders like me.”
He could almost feel them staring at him. His act had been good enough to give them at least a slight pause.
“Hmmph. Doesn’t matter,” Jacobs grunted. “You’re still the perfect boy for the big party at the estate. You have no idea how important the people who want to meet you are..”
He heard Jacobs’ heavy steps head away from him. “Remember what I told you,” Jacobs grunted at the other guy who was staying. “He better show up every bit as pretty as possible at the estate or you can be in a gladiator ring.”
The door closed with a dampened slam.
“Why can’t I just go home,” Merritt begged from his knees.
“You can go home after the party . . . if you do exactly what you’re told.”
“But I didn’t agree to any of this! How can you just . . do this to me?” he sobbed first holding up his hands locked into two rubber bowling balls and then tapping one against the metal restraint across his crotch.
He heard a sniff of disgust and felt a large man’s hand grab him under one arm lifting him easily to his feet.
“Get your crying out of your system, little pretty boy. This is how it’s gonna be. I’m gonna feed you twice a day. If you gotta squirt or you gotta squat you holler and tell me. Say #1 or #2 and I’ll bring you to the bathroom and me and another guy will take care of you. You’re so pretty they won’t even let one guy see you bare assed. It’s gotta be two with bonuses for turning in the other guy for taking a turn on you. Got it?”
“Y-yeah, I got it. I-I gotta do both right now.”
To Merritt’s surprise he was led along rather gently by one arm, led to shuffle out the door to an adjacent room. Another man was called for and one of them unlocked a padlock at his hip. They pulled the crazy chastity belt thing off him, a metal cone over his genitals hinged to a metal disk covering his little hole hinged to a narrow metal rod running up between his buns with metal leafs off to both sides They sat him down on a toilet seat surprisingly gently and Merritt did his business. When he was done he nodded as much to them from under his bag and to his amazement they carefully lifted him up, wiped his hole and even dabbed at the tip of his penis. They squeezed him back into the chastity belt, equipment into the cone, disk over his hole, rod up his cleft. Snap. Lock. Shuffle back to his room. It was a routine he grew accustomed to.
Merritt bided his time. He was stuck, for the time being as a shockingly beautiful boy, but one who was only 11 ½ years old and weighing only 82 pounds. After that very first time having his little ass wiped by someone else, he had heard one of the two men grumble “Six more days of this!” under his breath so he had an idea how much more time he had to figure out an escape.
He tried to appear as docile and unthreatening as possible, indulging in a crying fit once or twice every day. When he asked to use the bathroom, he let his body be as limp as possible so that the guards only thought of him as weak and lifeless.
True to their word, they did feed him twice a day. They would pull the bag off his head and spoon food into his mouth like he was a little child. Merritt turned away from them, not being so confrontational as to even look one of them in the eye.
But this was not without value because he was constantly planning his escape, picking up bits of information. He found that the black bag over his head had a patch of it on one side that was pretty threadbare and once used to it he could see through it fairly well. The room he was in was padded on all sites with a sort of white rubber. It had a high ceiling and there was a window behind heavy bars 10 feet up. The base of one wall bulged out two feet to form a sort of bench with the same rubber covering 2 feet above the floor. Merritt spent most of his days lying there in limp resignation at his fate. But always he plotted.
While being fed at lunch time one day he saw on one guard’s watch that it was Tuesday. The “party” at the estate was going to be on a Saturday. At dinner one day he saw the back of one of the unbreakable plastic plates from which he was being fed. It was stamped with the name of a certain mental hospital he vaguely remembered hearing about just southwest of DC.
That made perfect sense to Merritt. He could scream his little head off here and no one would think anything of it. Just another crazy. What better place to stash your boy sex slaves before an Eyes Wide Shut style party at some super rich estate?
Little Merritt planned and tried to set the stage. He had something that they didn’t know. One of the first things he’d done after acquiring the Chronivac was to make improvements to his own athleticism. Another was to give himself a mastery of Jeet Kune Do, the martial arts synthesis of Bruce Lee. Merritt gave himself the muscle memory, the knowledge of how to fight as if he’d laboriously trained and been awarded a black belt in Jeet Kune Do.
But little Merritt was now 5 feet tall and a very slender 82 pounds. There were a total of 4 different guards that attended to him and all four were at least 6 foot 4 and 250 pounds, triple his mass. He would have to defeat two of them because they always came to him in pairs. He hated the stupid bowling ball mittens but how much use were his hands anyway with the stick figure arms he had. They might even be able to brush off a punch from him to the throat, he was so lacking in strength.
No, it would have to be the heels of his slightly oversized feet delivering all the force of his 82 pounds to these guys.
Just the same, he constantly pushed and pulled at the ridiculous bowling ball sized mittens covering his hands. The one on his right hand had no give no matter what he did. The left one had some wiggle and he did what he could to work it looser. He held it in place between his skinny legs and twisted his wrist hard one way then the other. He wasn’t close to having it off but there was at least some hope he could remove it.
A couple days from the end of his expected time in this captivity, they brought him his lunch only this time, that guy Jacobs was with them. Merritt heard voices and then the door opened and the tread of three steeps entered the room as well as a trio of voices in shielded discussion.
He limply sat up on the bench adopting a posture that signaled befuddlement when actually he could see through the bag that Jacobs had come in with two of the guards. This could not be good.
But it started like a normal feeding. They had him sit his little chastity belt protected ass down at one end of the bench, one guard put a tray on the bench between them and pulled the bag off his head. Merritt opened his mouth but looked away at the middle of the floor.
A spoonful of some sort of tuna casserole was gently pushed past his lips. Merritt chewed.
“So . . we got a bit lucky, my pretty little friend. You see, we brought you into the system when we brought you here. It was just an automatic sort of thing. While you were unconscious, they even fingerprinted you, a grade school boy just because they always do this sort of thing. And guess what they found? They found a match for you in the system.
Merritt chewed another spoonful of casserole maintaining a quizzical expression but he knew where this was going.
“Your little fingerprints are an exact match, slightly smaller but otherwise an exact match for Merritt Sivertsen! How do you explain that, pretty little boy?”
Merritt decided the best defense was a good offense.“What?! That’s, like, not possible, is it? You must’ve done it wrong to say that I have the same fingerprints as some Mister Stevenson or-or anyone else! You see how crazy this is, imprisoning me, making me wear my dong in a metal cone because you-you think I have the same fingers as some guy Stevenson? What-what the hell’s that?!”
“You have the same fingerprints as Merritt Sivertsen except that yours are smaller. How is that?”
Merritt kept chewing and bit the inside of his cheek hard. He descended into tears. “I don’t know but then I don’t really understand why I’m wearing a steel thong and rubber bowling balls on both my hands,” he wept bitterly, holding up his hands and descending further into sobbing
Jacobs went on in an accusatory tone trying to browbeat him into admitting something but Merritt could tell that they didn’t know the real story. They were stuck on the bizarre fact that he, of course, had his own fingerprints. But they didn’t really know what to make of it. This at least confirmed that they didn’t have the Chronivac.
Merritt kept the waterworks going and sobbed for all the minutes more that Jacobs was in the room. Finally he stormed out and the guards finished feeding Merritt who then kept up a steady mumbling under his breath about how crazy it was that he was “in . . like . . prison because they screwed up and think I have the-the same fingerprints as some guy Stevenson!”
But, at no time did Merrit show the slightest inclination to translate this frustration into anger or resistance. He made sure to simply lie down and appear to sob before going back to sleep.
Merritt plotted in minute detail what was his best chance to escape. All other things being equal, he would like to try to break out at night time so that darkness would provide cover but they fed him supper at 5:40 every night while there was still plenty of light. He could call them in to bring him to the bathroom but the problem was that they always brought him to the toilet with each holding one of his arms. If he went after one the other could just grab him and pull him down and he, weighing a meager 82 pounds, would be overwhelmed by a 250 to 270 pound guard. No, he needed to have a few feet separation to beat one and then be able to take on the other. It had to be at a feeding.
He would have preferred to make his break at supper, too, because then he’d be only an hour and change from dark but he had to strike when he could.
So, the day after being ranted at by Jacobs, Merritt was starting to be fed and he noticed something that he’d seen before. The particular guard feeding him was either going commando or wearing something very loose under his white uniform pants. When he sat on the white rubber covered bench to feed Merritt, his balls were conspicuous and distinct. In a split second, Merritt’s Jeet Kune Do mastery directed him. The seated guard turned momentarily away from Merritt to gather another spoonful of food. The other guard was three feet behind him, looking down and not really paying attention.
With all the power in his skinny body, that had been hidden and stored up for days now, Merritt jumped up from the bench leaping high in the air. But he wasn’t going for a knockout kick to the jaw. It would have been impossible the way the guard was turned away from him. He might’ve stunned him but he’d have had the two of them on him seconds later. No, Merritt leaped high in the air, well above the guard’s head and came down with his heel right on the guy’s scrotum, crushing his balls.
“Aaaaaaaah!!! Aaaaaaaaah!!!”
The guard screamed in pain, both hands going to his ruined crotch and toppling over sideways onto the floor where he continued to moan angry expletives.
The other guard only looked up at the sound of the first guard’s scream and it took him another second to start to process what had happened. His co-worker was on the floor in excruciating pain and here was the limp little pretty boy standing on the bench, suddenly charged with energy, and spinning before leaping at him.
What the fuck?!
He was still perplexed and not reacting when Merritt’s heel slammed into his jaw rocking him back. He wobbled and fell to his knees. Merritt retreated a couple feet then came leaping forward, spinning and crashing his heel into that guard’s temple leaving him slumped on the floor. He then turned and gave a hard kick to the side of the head of the guard with the crushed balls ending his loud moaning with unconsciousness.
Merritt dropped to the floor, ignoring the discomfort of sitting on the chastity belt and brought his knees up to his chest then pushed with all his 82 pounds’ might against the rubber ball over his left hand. In a few seconds, a crack started to show. With maximum grunting effort he got part of it to come loose. With his now exposed left hand he undid the snaps at the wrist of his right hand. With that hand free he undid the snaps holding the remaining portion of the rubber ball on his left hand.
He scurried over to one unconscious guard and picked out the key for the lock on the insane chastity belt. He carefully pulled the ridiculous thing off him and went for the door. He peeked out and looked down the hall. It was 100 feet long and very wide with doors to other holding rooms every 15 or so feet. He ran down the hall to the bend at the end of it, the only sound the slap of his feet on the hard tile. He peeked his head around the corner. This hallway, too, was 100 feet long but at the end of this one was an exit. But half way down there was a woman with very short, masculine hair tinted green on one side and wearing a white uniform just like his guards while pushing around an older woman in a wheelchair.
Behind him, Merrit could hear one of the guards starting to moan progressively louder. There was no time to wait. He ran forward hoping to sprint right by the woman to the door but as soon as he came out from behind the corner she saw him and pushed the wheelchair to one side and brandished an extendable baton blocking the way.
“Who the fuck are . . . oh . . you’re the boy in the room, aren’t you?” she said first seeming to reflexively smile at his lithe body and beautiful face but then looking down with great distaste at his large penis swaying back and forth between his legs.
She whipped the baton back and forth the sound of it cutting through the air clearly audible to Merritt. He stayed just beyond her reach. When she started to reach for the little radio on her shoulder, Merritt advanced on her. She stopped and whipped the baton back and forth.
Both could see they were going to have to fight. She couldn’t call for help or he’d jump her. He couldn’t get by her. Merritt moved forward in a series of lightning fast feints, testing how she’d try to lash out at him. He could tell she didn’t really know what she was doing. And, oddly, every few seconds she’d glare, unnecessarily at his surprisingly mature sized, swaying penis. She randomly swung wildly downward instead of side to side a couple times, seemingly trying to actually hit his dong. He kept testing her with cat quick feint rushes forward but always retreating before she could whip the baton around and hit him. She didn’t accomplish much but those vertical swipes were especially useless as she then had to move the baton to the side before swinging side to side again.
Merritt taunted her with a grin and a shake of his hips. I’ve got a big one, baby and you know you’re impressed.
She swung downward harder than ever with a grunt. As the baton hit floor tile, Merritt leaped forward and kicked her at the base of the throat. She was blasted to the side and remained down, coughing and holding her neck. Merritt sprinted forward past her and, on the run, grabbed her set of keys that had been sent flying into a corner of the hallway when she went down. As he got to the end of the hall he could see that the doors had to be opened by a button in the first room in. Merritt ran into that room looking for the button but saw that the window behind the desk past the counter was open. He jumped and slid over the desk as a woman in an adjoining room suddenly looked up to see a naked boy slide across the counter onto the desk behind it then jump out the window and roll back to his feet and sprint.
Merritt ran across a broad expanse of lawn to the parking area he could see on one side of the building. He pressed the key fob’s button to unlock the doors to find the right car and the lights flashed on a Subaru Forester. He wanted to snicker as he ran toward it. A lesbian in a Subaru. What a surprise.
He jumped in the car, dismayed at how ridiculous his 5 foot height was in even this car. He adjusted the seat as high and far forward as it would go. He knew he’d still come across, instantly, as a boy joyriding someone else’s car.
He roared out of the parking lot and with the afternoon sun starting to dip toward the right he went to the left, east. A mile away, he saw a sign for a highway number and a suburb that he could place relative to the parts of DC he knew well. It wouldn’t be long though. The woman he’d kicked or the woman in the other office had almost certainly called the cops by now. He gave himself another 90 seconds to get somewhere before he’d have to ditch this car.
Police arriving on the scene a few minutes later and a mile or so further east found a long trail of flattened brush and saplings down from the road to a green Subaru Forester at the bottom of a ravine adjacent to a slow flowing brook. The cops didn’t find anyone, though. There were three squad cars there. Two others had scrambled from the station at the call that had gone out.
“Be on the lookout! Criminally insane 12 year old boy, Derek Biddle, 5 feet tall, blond and blue eyed escaped from Muddybrook Asylum in a trustee’s 2015 green Subaru Forester. Extremely dangerous. A year ago, killed his little sister driving a pencil from one ear to the other. Also set fire to his mother.”
But there was no sign of this little psycho in the car. Police searched the area but came up empty.
Merritt had put the car in neutral as he was slowing to a near stop at the side of the road and aimed it to go off into the ravine. He knew the cops would waste time focusing on the car. He ran across the street and then up through some woods. Over a ridge was a busy intersection. He saw a landscaper’s truck and trailer and jumped into the trailer from some bushes adjacent to it. The address on the side of the truck was a suburb a little closer still to the part of DC where he wanted to go so he tried it.
He got a free ride for a couple miles. When they started to come into a more heavily developed area, he got excited. He got ready when the landscaper truck stopped at a light with another stop visible ahead. That next one was what interested Merritt because he could see a dry cleaner’s store and some kind of fabric shop next to it in a strip mall. He jumped out of the trailer at the second light and into some bushes. The driver behind the landscaping truck was looking at her phone and never even noticed.
Merritt made a beeline for the dumpster behind the two businesses. He found a pair of blue, boy’s underpants and jeans that had been splattered with bleach or something and ruined. They fit him reasonably. A little loose but he was no longer naked. He found a simple white t-shirt that didn’t seem to have anything wrong with it and which fit him. Now all he needed was shoes. He lucked out on these, too. On the passenger’s seat of a car parked behind the strip mall was a pair of boys sneakers. Merritt reached in the window and snatched them. He pulled them on beside the car. A pair of beat up Chuck Taylor black high tops a half size large for him but good enough.
Okay, I’m a civilized person again, he told himself. At least he thought so till he happened to be close enough to a police cruiser to hear a repeat of their description of him and his supposed background. Due to the recognizability of his face, he only tried to make slow progress toward his destination while it was still light out. He remained in hidden little areas behind dumpsters and in the brush beside office parks for 15 minutes at a time. When it got dark he was constantly moving but he would sprint off the sidewalk or edge of the pavement into trees at the sight of a police cruiser.
At last, he arrived at a certain condominium complex. He thought of going up to the door but wondered if the place wasn’t bugged. He hadn’t thought of that before. What kind of film footage of him must they have? He wandered around the parking lot looking for the right vehicle. At last he found it and retreated to a spot behind a huge hickory tree nearby.
He spotted her with that knockout face and body gliding toward her car. He rushed out from behind the tree to get beside her several steps from her car. She saw him approach but didn’t seem worried. She had that moment of recognition that people always did of what a beautiful boy he was and smiled.
“Etta . . “ he began but stopped, struggling to decide what to say.
“Do I know you? I think I’d remember you.”
He took a deep breath. “You do. And this might be the most important conversation of your whole life. I’m Merritt Sivertsen and I know who you really work for. But we can change that.”