By Rob Maynard

Chapter 10

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Bellerophon Black III was a happy boy.

Not that he was ever happy in the way that others boys were.

In fact, the very first moment of happiness that Bellerophon could actually remember dated from the age of four when he'd slowly pulled the legs off a cricket that had been jumping harmlessly around grandma's back yard.

And from there on it had been a swift progress through inflicting whatever pain he could on reptiles, then various small mammals, then his neighbours cat, then his neighbour's dog and ultimately his neighbour himself (who chose not to report the matter to the authorities after Bellerophon had threatened to expose his somewhat specialised interest in rubber to his employers the Boy Scouts of America).

And now, at 18, young Black considered that he'd finally arrived at his goal.

Busybody Mr Steve "too good to be true" Petersen had been successfully framed and would be lucky if he ended up spending the next two decades in a penal colony way beyond the solar system.

Oliver "motherfucker" Murray Jr., meanwhile, would more than likely be spending his own time at a reformatory for criminally inclined youths - from where he was unlikely to emerge without the most severe damage to every single one of his bodily orifices (one of Bellerophon's very favourite porno movies was Bad Boys' Cell Hell in which implements ranging from brooms to sticks of roll-on deodorant suddenly took on a wholly terrifying new significance).

And, as for all the other players in the drama so far, they'd all been neutralised.

Murray's robot mentor Ronald (hell, the name was something like that anyway!) had been fucked within an inch of his central processor by Bellerophon's own robot Cyprian and would be quite useless to Oliver from now on…

And meanwhile young Dominic had been beaten and terrified into submission and into publicly supporting the allegations against Steve and Oliver…

So, Bellerophon was convinced, no one could be happier today than him.

He looked forward to the prospect of treating the boys of Bette Midler High as his own private harem - and, boy, did he have plans for some of the cuter boys who'd rejected his advances in the past…

But, if a new path was opening up before him, it was time, he guessed, to close a few of those that he'd been following in the past.

Cyprian, for instance.

Even Bellerophon had to admit that his robot mentor had done a good job - especially once his programmes had been doctored so as to remove all the limits to what he was prepared to do and, even more importantly, have done to him.

But, Bellerophon thought, Cyprian's time was now past.

It was all very well having a hot ass permanently available every time you felt like a hard fuck.

But, when you knew that, no matter how hard you drove, you were only shoving your dick into a mechanical butt that didn't actually feel any pain, no matter how much the robot had been programmed to cry out in "ecstasy", Bellerophon knew that it just wasn't the same.

Not the same thing, for instance, as just the other day when he'd had the twins just begging him to stop before he'd split them wide open…

Or when he'd given Dominic's ass such a pounding that Bette Midler High head teacher Mr Gaveston had seriously considered sending the poor kid straight to A&E.

No, Bellerophon Black III thought to himself, Cyprian had done well and had served his purpose - but there was no place for sentimentality now.

He would have to go - and be replaced with real boys now that there was nothing to stop Bellerophon exploiting his unquestioned position at school to the full.

Crossing the sitting room, he picked up the holo-phone.

"Get me the Board of Youth Sexuality robot exchange programme", he told the operator.

Within five minutes all the necessary arrangements had been made.

BOYS representatives would come to collect Cyprian ("repackaged exactly as he was delivered to you please, Mr Black") in two weeks time.

And, thereafter, Bellerophon would be free to inflict himself on real flesh and blood.

Smiling, he replaced the handset, stripped off his clothes, and went to the bathroom to take a shower.

Which was just as well - because, had he gone out to the hall at that very moment, he would have found Cyprian who, for the past ten minutes, had been eavesdropping at the sitting room door.

And no matter how happy a boy Bellerophon Black III was at that very moment, Cyprian was most definitely not a happy robot.

Dominic wasn't very happy either.

It wasn't so much the physical pain any longer - although he still tried to avoid sitting down on hard surfaces wherever possible - but the emotional hurt.

Because ever since that day when he'd sat at the back of the bus, thinking that he'd never seen a more handsome boy than Ollie, Dominic had been in love with Oliver Murray Jr.

Which made the pain of realising that his testimony - extorted from him by Bellerophon and presented to Mr Gaveston - might be the final nail in Ollie's coffin all the more painful.

And that was why, this afternoon, Dominic was to be found knocking at Ollie's door.

It was opened by Roland.

"Hi", said Dominic nervously, his hand tightly gripping his school bag.

"Is Oliver at home?"

Roland stared intently at the boy.

He thought that he recognised him from somewhere - Bette Midler High possibly? - but he wasn't sure.

Nevertheless, BOYS robots were programmed to be matchmakers, permanently on the lookout for potential boyfriends for their young masters, and, as far as Roland could see, Dominic was a cute boy with a lot going for him.

So he invited him into the apartment.

"Sit down", he said.

Dominic did as he was told - a lesson learned from too much time spent with Bellerophon.

"Oliver won't be too long", continued Roland.

"He and Steve have just popped out to grab a quick bite."

Dominic began to wish he hadn't come.

It was going to be hard enough to confess to Oliver what he'd done - and, in so doing, lose any hope that they might one day get together.

But he certainly didn't feel up to confessing his part in Bellerophon's scheme to Mr Petersen too - a guy whose whole career had gone down the pan as a result.

Dominic tried to get up out of the chair but, as he did so, a searing pain flashed through his lower back and the cheeks of his ass and he sank back with an animal-like whimper.

"Whatever's wrong?" asked Roland, coming across to sit on the arm of Dominic's chair.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Dominic winced once again in pain.

"I've had an injury and I think maybe the wound has opened up again.

"I think I'd better leave and get home."

Roland helped Dominic stand, but then held him firmly and looked him in the eyes.

"You're in no fit state to go anywhere", he said.

"Let me take a look at the problem.

"There's no need to be embarrassed.

"After all, I'm only a robot."

And, with a hand well-practised at the intricacies of belts and buckles after the hours he'd spent servicing the customers at The Queen's Head, Roland unbuckled and unzipped Dominic's pants, pulled up his shirt, whirled the boy around and bent him over the arm of the chair.

"Oh, lord…" he said quietly to himself, "oh, lord."

And, as Dominic began gently sobbing into the upholstery, Roland lowered his face to Dominic's ass and slowly and terribly gently began licking off the worst of the blood.

And so intent was he on caring for the distressed young boy that he didn't hear the door open behind him or see the looks of astonishment on the faces of Steve Petersen and Oliver Murray Jr. as they took in the scene in front of them.

© Rob Maynard / HMBoys.com 2005 - 2007

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