The Age of Puericil

By heimito

* * * * *
This story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced nudity, spanking, and/or sexual activity of preteen and young teen children. This is fantasy, and the author in no way endorses or practices these things on real life. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or view such material, please leave now.
* * * * *

The Age of Puericil
How a Therapy Reformed Society

[This study is funded and sponsored by the makers
of Puericil, offering Comprehensive Puberty Management,
including post-puberty syndrome. Use only as directed.]

1. Introduction

This is a lay person’s guide to the revolutionary drug Puericil. In various formulations, Puericil is widely prescribed for boys to slow or block puberty, and to regress adolescent or even adult men to a physically pre-pubertal state.

The blocking or regression effects are typically accompanied by major psychological benefits. For example, males suffering from anxiety, depression, paranoia, and rage—all common symptoms of toxic masculinity—usually get rapid relief from these symptoms after treatment with Puericil.

In short, the toxic masculinity that has plagued industrialized nations may be cured by timely treatment with Puericil. Because of its extraordinary effectiveness and near-total lack of undesirable side effects, Puericil is increasingly used prophylactically for both adolescent and pre-pubertal boys, even in the absence of neurotic symptoms. Puericil has also been shown to be effective in treating “post-pubertal syndrome” (grandiosity, megalomania) in adult men.

2. Development of Puericil: Early Experience

The Puericil now in use is actually a drug cocktail. Its chemical components are adjusted, based on the age of the patient and desired results. In contrast, the original Puericil was a simpler drug that did one thing only: It blocked the action of the male hormone (testosterone) on hair follicles.

Thus, boys who did not yet have whiskers or body hair would not grow them; boys who already had body hair, with or without whiskers, would see all such hair fall out in a few days after beginning treatment. For all boys taking Puericil, scalp hair becomes fuller and faster growing. To this extent, Puericil boys might look a bit girlish. These effects were not permanent; when use of the drug was discontinued, age-appropriate hair growth patterns and development would resume.

Puericil in its original formulation was intended as a disciplinary tool in schools. Authorities could impose a period of Puercil treatment for misconduct such as bullying. Usually, the treatment was offered to the misbehaving boy as an alternative to suspension or expulsion. During the period of treatment, which might vary in length at the discretion of the authorities, the boy was required to receive counseling and to be nude while in school.

The treatment plan aimed to rehabilitate the offender through a combination of positive reinforcement [counseling] and negative reinforcement [public shaming]. Collectively, these measures are referred to as the Puericil Disciplinary Program [PDP]. Program administrators asserted that the traditional sanctions (suspension or expulsion) were entirely negative and rarely led to rehabilitation. Instead, traditional sanctions tended to reinforce the offender’s delinquency by interfering with his education and isolating him from his peer group. In particular, expulsion often led to gang membership and criminal activity.

Some early successes, based on limited observation, prompted widespread use of the PDP in some urban school districts. But after only a few months, program administrators found certain inadequacies. Behavior improvement tended to be short-term. In some cases, misconduct actually increased. Overall experience was positive, but not to the extent anticipated. The following case study is illustrative. (Names used in the case studies below are all pseudonyms.)

Case Study No. 1: Norman G

Q. When did you begin taking Puericil? How long did you take it?

They stuck me in the PDP [Puericil Disciplinary Program] when I was in eighth grade, so I must have been around 14. I must've been one of the first guys to get the treatments. I was definitely the first in my school. I'm not sure whether that made it harder or easier for me.

So what it was, I got weekly shots for four months. During that time, I was naked in school except for footwear and, in gym, a jockstrap. I was also ineligible for school sports. That hurt because I was a star athlete, but it was middle school, so no big deal.

After I stopped getting the shots, most things went back to normal. I could dress and do sports. The counseling continue to the end of the school year, so maybe another three months.

Q. Why were you placed in the PDP?

I don't remember. I kid you not. At that age, I was doing a ton of dumbass things, like most of the other cool guys. I got away most of the stuff, or I thought I did. The school staff soon got the idea that I and two or three others were the rotten eggs. We were jerks, that’s for sure, but we had company. Anyway, I got blamed for graffiti, letting air out of teachers’ tires, destruction of school property. I did some of that, too, but mostly I was a bully.

I picked on kids who looked funny, I picked on nerds and eggheads, and I picked on seventh graders. Mostly it was just verbal, taunting and name-calling, but yeah, it did get physical sometimes.

I particularly hated smart kids who turned their noses up at us jocks. Those smart kids, I liked to give ‘em knobbies – grind my knuckles into the top or side of the head. And we tripped kids, slammed them against the wall, locked them into their lockers. One time I sat a little seventh grade kid on a water fountain and turned it on, wet the seat of his pants clear through. Hilarious, huh?

No, I never stole, I never shook down kids for their lunch money. No shit like that. The guys who did those kinds of things, if they were caught, faced a lot worse punishment than the PDP!

Complain? No, the kids we bullied wouldn't complain, they were too scared. We were big guys, we picked on little guys. If we thought a guy might fight back, two or three of us would corner him.

But then a kid did complain. One of the nerds broke down completely, he stood in the hallway sobbing. When they took him to the office, he named names. We had been stupid enough to bully him in a classroom when the teacher had left toward the end of the period. Most of the class saw us pushing this nerd around. So the administration hauled in the whole class, and everyone confirmed the kid’s story.

When they offered me a choice between the PDP and expulsion, I was thrilled to take the PDP. The guy I’d ganged up with chose expulsion. He wound up at the so-called vocational high school, where the students are mostly retards and criminals-in-training. They taught him what it was like to be on the butt-end of bullying.

Q. What was your experience in the PDP?

At first, I was ashamed. The nakedness was tough for a 14-year-old. Some kids humiliated me, but not the kids I bullied. They were still scared. No, I got razzed by my fellow bullies, who’d all done the same shit I did or worse, and had gotten away with it. Of course, some of them soon got caught themselves and joined me in the PDP.

The first week, I'll tell ya, I had second thoughts about expulsion. Little kids happily walk around naked; big kids (like I was supposed to be) keep their clothes on. So, yeah, I got it: act like a little kid, you'll be treated like a little kid. That was the reasoning behind the PDP at that time.

Looking like a little kid meant losing the pubes along with the clothes. You lost the clothes immediately but not the pubes. See, they didn't shave us, and the drug took some time to kick in.

That first week, your pubes fell out gradually; every day, they got noticeably thinner. Kind of like a striptease, and each day I felt myself get more naked.

I was an early bloomer, and I was big for my age too, but I actually didn't have much body hair then. Lots of kids had more hair sooner than I did. I was pretty vain about the thin little patch of pubes that started appearing when I was 13 and took its own sweet time about filling in. I just about cried over losing that patch. Every day, I checked my increasing baldness in the mirror. Not that I needed to: Every day at school my pals eagerly gave me a progress report.

The stronger hairs go first, then the wispy hairs. When they say your body hair falls out, they don't exaggerate. Even the peach fuzz disappears. I was, like, newborn.

My voice had already broken, and that's not something that the drug affects, at least not back then, but that first week I really felt like I had lost several years off my age. All in my head I guess, but when I was asked a question, sometimes I started answering with a squeak like I hadn't heard coming out of my mouth since I was, like, 10.

My PDP started in the late fall. I'd lost my summer tan. My body it was pale, but I was blushing all the time. When I walked down the hall, I must've looked like a big baby, all pink and white, and lots of girls made cooing sounds at me. That's not the effect a would-be stud is hoping for. Then suddenly, after the first week, I got over it and started enjoying myself.

Q. What changed?

The novelty wore off. People got used to the naked guy, and I got used to myself being naked. I realized I was taller and more muscular than even most of the ninth graders one year ahead of me, and I got back my self-assurance. Kids could gawk at me, they could smirk, but nothing they could do would cut me down to their size.

Speaking of size, I already told you I was an early bloomer. At 14, I had a man’s dick, and then some. Soft I had at least six thick inches.

Y’know, a teen boy’s boners can be huge and long-lasting. My boner must've stuck out 10 inches. You can bet every girl and every boy was staring at it. Walking around with my dick swinging back-and-forth and plenty of cute girls in sight, I was popping boners all day long.

Some people think that JD's [juvenile delinquents] act out to prove their manhood. Well, the PDP was supposed to take away my manhood, but it did the opposite. My manhood was displayed and boned-up for the whole school to admire. I didn't even try to show off, but after the first week I didn't try to hide it either. If this is what you want, this is what you get!

Soon, things got even better. Puericil stimulates growth of scalp hair. I wore my hair long even before the PDP. Most of the current pop stars had shoulder length hair, and soon I did too. Plus, I was getting company in the PDP. There was solidarity among us naked guys; I even got respect as a pioneer.

And it gets better still. It got to be a cool thing among many girls to date a guy in the PDP. A little risky, a little edgy – but not too risky because we were on probation for as long as we were in the program; we'd be expelled for any misstep.

I dated a lot of girls that year; they used to joke that they liked to see me clothed for a change! And I learned a lot. I never took more than a girl was willing to give, mostly groping and kissing, which was still more than I was used to. Sex a couple of times, with protection. I needed the practice: Slipping a condom onto a thick10-inch cock takes practice.

By the end of my time in the PDP, I'd become the Big Man on Campus. I kept working out, so my body looked great. I got my hair styled. I was taking care of my hygiene, which anyone who ever smelled a middle school boy might appreciate. I was Mr. Suave.

Q. How were you evaluated at the end of the PDP?

Well, I had passed my probation, but that was the only good thing they had to say about me. They said I'd morphed from typical bully to male chauvinist. In other words, I had channeled my “toxic masculinity” instead of getting over it. They considered the PDP a failure in my case.

Q. What's your opinion?

I was a cocky shit when I started the PDP, and I was still a cocky shit at the end, so I guess I didn't meet their expectations. But their expectations were unrealistic: An immature 14-year-old boy will still have to do a lot more growing up at 15.

What they didn't acknowledge is that at 15, I was a much calmer, happier person. More to the point, the behavior that landed me in the PDP stopped forever. I never pulled another stunt or laid a finger on another kid. How is that a failure?

Q. So do you consider the PDP a success in your case?

My experience doesn't prove anything about the PDP one way or another. I did get better, but maybe I would've gotten better anyway. And don't forget that the PDP came with a full year of counseling.

Q. Please say more about the counseling.

It was variable. It seems they were trying out different approaches. Some kids got a kind of weekly civics lecture; they hated it. Some kids had something like group therapy, sometimes involving the kids that they bullied. This seemed to work fairly well.

My counseling amounted to a literature class. We read books like Tom Sawyer and To Kill a Mockingbird. Did we discuss our misconduct? Not in so many words, but the books we read were all about coming-of-age and pressures to conform and the lies that adults tell us. When I look at these books now, they strike me as lightweight, but back then they made me think. They didn't make me feel bad. It was fun to read them and fun to think and talk about them. The woman who taught the class mostly just asked questions and never passed judgment. Now I know her class was like a college seminar. I got to looking forward to it.

Do you mind if I talk some more about the PDP? These are not thoughts I had then, they are ideas that came to me years later.

Q. Sure, go ahead!

OK. Remember, I mentioned the reasoning behind the PDP: Act like a little kid, get treated like a little kid. That reasoning is screwed up in a bunch of ways.

First off, little kids throw temper tantrums. We were not little kids, and the things we did weren’t tantrums. Our middle-school pranks were deliberate. They might be impulsive sometimes, but they always had an element of calculation. A tantrum draws attention to itself, but we expected to get away with what we did.

Second, parents use shaming to get their six-year-old (or seven-year-old or eight-year-old or whatever) to abandon conduct that may actually have been fine when the kid was a toddler, like needing help for bathing or tying his shoes. I'm not sure shaming is a good way to teach lessons to kids of any age. But as I said, I don't think a bully is acting like a little kid. If anything, the bully is trying to exert adult authority to intimidate a younger/smaller kid. In fact, the bully is usually shaming his target. Maybe the bully is imitating his parents!

That brings me to my third point. The PDP assumes that the juvenile placed in the program knows how to act right but perversely fails to behave according to that norm. What if the assumption is wrong?

I think there's a big stretch of time when we're no longer little kids but not nearly adults, especially in our mental and emotional maturity. As adolescents, we get a mixed message. We are supposed to treat others with respect, but every day we see what amounts to bullying by adults, beginning with our teachers and parents, or so it seems to us. (Every American politician should be sent to the PDP for at least a year; one year is not enough for British politicians!)

So, bullying is NOT childish behavior, it’s an attempt to assume a kind of misguided maturity, to act like an adult. The PDP itself, at least in my time, totally misses this point. The bully will learn nothing useful from a punishment that tries to reduce him to childishness.

Q. If you’ve thought about later versions of the PDP, what’s your opinion?

From what I've heard, later versions of the PDP seem much more promising. The perception now seems to be that emotional maturation, like physical maturation, is variable. The PDP now tries to better align physical and mental maturation. From that perspective, I start to see how delaying or slowing down physical maturation might be reasonable, at least in some cases. Shaming should not be part of the therapy. Instead the boy receiving treatment should feel cared for, not humiliated. Forced nudity isn’t helpful; it may even backfire, as you can see from my story.

Comment on Case Study No. 1:

Experience with Norman G and other boys treated with the original formulation of Puericil shows that the elimination of body hair did not, by itself, achieve the desired results. The results over the near-term could even be considered counterproductive, as Norman G explains.

Norman G was physically imposing before, during, and after the Puericil Disciplinary Program. The elimination of his body hair had only a brief effect on his swagger. Although his conduct gradually improved, the improvement seems a function of his increasing mental maturity. Perhaps the PDP contributed to his maturation, but the evidence is inconclusive.

Many of the bullies enrolled in the early PDP resembled Norman G physically, but there were many other boys who were smaller or at an earlier Tanner stage (that is, in early puberty or even pre-pubertal). In all cases, the drug they received was no more than a sophisticated depilatory. Aside from body hair and whiskers, the treated boys were completely normal in their physical development, including genital growth. The genitals of some of the boys doubled or even tripled in size over the course of the PDP. To state the obvious, such development does not prevent or discourage toxic masculinity.

3. Reformulation of Puericil: Puberty Blocker [Puericil/PB]

Advocates of a reformulated Puericil argued that “toxic masculinity” was the neurosis behind most misconduct by boys in the 10 to 15 age range. They further argued that the onset of puberty often triggers a neurotic breakout, which could affect even previously well-behaved boys.

The mistake of the early Puericil Disciplinary Program (according to these advocates) was to treat only the physical manifestation of puberty and to limit that treatment to only one such manifestation, namely, adult male hair growth. Allowing puberty to otherwise take its course would do little to avoid the toxic masculinity syndrome; thus, few boys were likely to benefit from the early PDP, except possibly from counseling.

The consensus view was that the PDP should take a holistic approach to puberty in boys. Following this logic, the reformulated Puericil added a puberty blocker to the testosterone inhibitor.

(NOTE: Puberty blockers work on the pituitary gland; they do affect testosterone, but only indirectly. In boys, secretion of the growth hormone by the pituitary gland marks the onset of puberty. The boy has a growth spurt; as part of the growth stimulus, production of testosterone is activated. But the rising testosterone level affects the pituitary gland by causing the secretion of growth hormone to taper off. The ends of the boy’s long bones seal, so the boy’s arms and legs do not lengthen further. Testosterone production continues long after adult size is reached and secretion of the growth hormone stops, so secondary male characteristics usually become more pronounced for many years beyond puberty.

(Puberty blockers can prevent puberty, or slow its progress if administered in early puberty. They stop production of the growth hormone, so the boy’s testosterone level remains very low as long as the treatment continues. The treated boy remains physically a child, or does not advance beyond whatever stage of puberty he had reached, but his intellectual and social skills develop normally.)

Puberty blockers have been successfully prescribed for genetic boys expressing transgender tendencies. One benefit of preventing or slowing puberty is that it enabled the subject individual to test transgenderism before deciding whether to begin transition therapies such as hormone replacement and surgeries. Besides this benefit, postponing the development of secondary male characteristics dramatically improved the mental outlook of transgendered boys. Finally, achieving a feminine appearance was easier for males who had never developed adult male bodies. On the other hand, a boy who decided against transition could simply discontinue the blocker. The puberty he then experienced would be later but not otherwise significantly different from puberty in untreated boys.

Puericil/PB would enable treated boys to avoid the stresses of puberty while they matured mentally. Advocates expected the boys would go on to a relatively well-adjusted adolescence, without permanent physical effects, after completion of the PDP. The boy would have to demonstrate his mental maturity as a condition of leaving the PDP. Consequently, a boy might be in the PDP for less than a year, or possibly for a year or more (but not beyond the age of 16 or leaving middle school, whichever came first).

The effects of the testosterone inhibitor would be noticeable in a week or a little more. (See Case Study No. 1.) The effects of the puberty blocker would require more time to be noticeable, but as the injections continued and months turned into years, the boy’s physical development would lag more and more behind his peers. The boy’s muscles would barely grow, even if he worked out regularly; his voice would not break unless it had broken before the boy entered the PDP; his body would be hairless and his face free of acne; and the increase of his height, weight, and genital size would be negligible.

At that time, use of Puericil/PB had very broad support. Those who wanted the PDP to be shame-based and punitive were satisfied that Puericil/PB would soon strip the delinquent of all outward signs of mature masculinity. Others (like Norman G above) who stressed the PDP’s prophylactic and rehabilitative aspects were pleased that the delinquent would be able to grow up at his own pace and to learn the social skills of adults before physically becoming an adult.

Forced nudity remained part of the PDP, but the regimen was substantially modified. As more and more boys participated in the PDP, non-participants found nudity less shocking, while participants experienced increasing solidarity (“misery loves company”). Under the new regimen, a given participant is naked only one day a week, according to a fixed rotation, such that one-fifth of a school’s PDP participants would be naked on any given day. A participant’s naked day would begin with his being publicly stripped by his homeroom teacher, often a woman. Stripping by such a parent surrogate ensured that shaming would remain an essential strategy of the PDP.

Case Study No. 2: George L

Q. When did you begin taking Puericil/PB? How long did you take it?

I was 12 years, three months, and 10 days. A Red Letter Day for me! I still take Puericil/PB. I’m getting close to 16 now, and if I had my way I would never stop taking it.

Q. Do other boys in the Puericil Disciplinary Program feel the same way as you do?

Some boys do. If you’re asking me to guess, I’d say almost everybody nowadays has a good experience. Can’t say how many are as enthusiastic as I am, but I’m sure not the only one!

Q. Why has the administration continued you in the program? Are you still having disciplinary problems, or is there a concern about potential relapse?

Lots of people ask that question. Here’s what I know. Any boy in the PDP, his case is reviewed periodically. I think it’s now quarterly. Lots of things are considered in deciding whether to discharge a boy, and I think the reviewers have a lot of discretion. So, I’ve been reviewed a bunch of times.

No, I’m not having the kind of disciplinary problems that got me into the PDP in the first place. However, my teachers say I’m easily distracted. What can I say? I admit I’m playful and not much for studying. On the other hand, I’m way more calm than I used to be. I’m always in a good mood. Most kids my age are becoming more serious. I guess I’m immature in that way. The idea that all of a sudden I should buckle down and hit the books and think about my college major and get a job for after-school doesn’t sound good to me at all.

Going off Puericil/PB does worry me a lot. I mean I’m doing so good now, attitude-wise. And the reviewers do consider those things. One of the reports said that I don’t seem ready to take on adult responsibilities and shouldn’t be forced, I’m still more than two years away from graduating high school, so there’s time. I agree with that report. I really don’t think it’s tough call. I was a pretty miserable and nervous kid before getting into the PDP. Now in the PDP, I’ve got a different attitude and I’m much much happier. Why change now?

Q. Why were you placed in the PDP?

It’s strange to think about now. I was hassling girls. Trying to look up their skirts, cop a feel. I was caught trying to hide a camera in the girls’ locker room. That was the last straw.

What was strange about it was, I’m gay, and even then I was pretty sure I was gay. I was definitely well into puberty. I’d started jacking off when I was 11, I’d grown pubes, and when I fantasized, I thought about boys, never girls.

Q. So why were you “hassling” girls?

Well, duh! I was trying to fit in, prove I was a real guy! See, I wasn’t fitting in. I’m skinny, not athletic, not crazy about sports. I’ve got these “cute” puppy dog looks. Boys were calling me names, like faggot. At that age, everybody is calling everybody faggot, but a voice inside me was saying, maybe they’re right.

I knew they were right, but I was trying to convince them, and maybe myself, that I was a real man. If I could just do that, then I figured I’d get past this queer phase, I’d get interested in girls like all the other boys, and no one would be the wiser.

Really, I was a mess. I felt like a phony and a shit. I was scared and moody all the time. I didn’t like myself at all. I didn’t want to get caught, but then I did want to get caught because that way everyone would know what a horny stud I was. Actually, I was a nervous wreck. (I’ve figured out since then that a lot of the straight boys that age were also nervous wrecks!)

Y’know, up until the age of 10 or so, I was a happy kid. Almost too nice. People asked whether I ever got into mischief! I made up for lost time.

Q. How did things change for you when you entered the PDP and started taking Puericil/PB?

To look at me, you wouldn’t see much difference. I had pubes already, like I said, and they told me they would fall out in about a week, but I remember it took much longer. I’m glad it did. At first I thought it might not happen at all. Then gradually I noticed the bush was becoming thinner and the remaining hairs were finer and lighter in color, almost blond. It took so long that people forgot I ever had a bush, but I got this weird pleasure out of watching myself go bald down there! Aside from the pubes, I didn’t have any body hair to lose unless you count peach fuzz, which also disappeared.

Of course I stopped growing too. Because they checked my height and weight regularly, I can say that right up to today, there’s been almost no change since I started on Puericil/PB. That physical effect must have happened almost immediate, but my lagging behind other boys wouldn’t have been noticeable for at least a few months. Most of the boys in my class were having a growth spurt, but many boys were late bloomers, so I wasn’t very obvious.

Plus, physically, when I started on Puericil/PB, I was right in the middle in almost everything, height, weight, and the family jewels. Five feet tall, 100 pounds, 2 inches soft, balls starting to descend. Those are all average for a 12-year old boy. At 13, I was a little on the small side. At 14, I was definitely small, it was obvious to anyone. At 15, my measurements are still the same, but I must be in the smallest 10% or even lower.

Overall, I was a good 12 months into the PDP before my overall appearance really shouted Puericil Boy.

Q. And you are happy with your appearance?

Totally! I think this is the real me. My looks and personality go together. A cute little imp who loves to cuddle and have fun.

Q. You mentioned that your physical changes were slow and not immediately obvious. What about your outlook and your behavior?

My attitude changed immediately, and I mean like overnight. I guess you could say I was ready. I felt like I’d been running towards a cliff, and someone reached out and stopped me in the nick of time.

Even as the needle went into my arm, I felt a new calm. I no longer was fearful, I no longer had to hide. I knew I was being punished, but dreading the possibility of punishment and exposure was much worse than facing them squarely.

OK, I know the hormones were still in my body. They told me it would take weeks before the hormones dropped to the old level, I mean the level before puberty. But the drug doesn’t only affect the production of hormones, it blocks them somehow.

Q. The receptor cells stop responding to the hormones.

Thank you, that’s it. Or maybe I was just ready to change. Whatever, the buzzing in my head stopped. My puberty had affected me like a disease, and I was starting to get well.

And my behavior? Well, the first thing that happened was that for the first time I started to get along with girls. I was making friends with them, while most boys were giving me a hard time, making fun of me.

Part of the PFP is apologizing to the people we’d bullied or harrassed. There were a few girls, I had either tried to touch them or flipped up their skirts, and I had to apologize. I started to cry, which was something else I did a lot more of after I was on the drug. Some girls thought I was putting on an act, but I wasn’t, I was sorry I’d done these mean, dumb things, and I said so. The girls all saw I was sincere.

After that, a couple girls told me they’d always thought I’d been trying to do ‘guy’ things just to fit in but wasn’t really like that. They were my classmates, they knew I was a nice enough boy until when I was 11 or so. Best of all, they kinda let on that it would be just fine with them if I were bi or even gay. They thought I was sweet and gentle, and that’s what they most liked in a boy, although it didn’t hurt that I was cute too!

Well, then I cried some more. I told them I was going to be that nice boy from now on, and yes, maybe I was bi [every gay boy starts by claiming to be bi!], but I wanted to be friends with anyone who’d let me. They were popular girls, and they started to have lunch with me and even invite me to their parties. I learned to dance, real partner dancing like the mamba and swing. I also learned that girls are always looking for a boy who can “lead.” And for a boy they can hug without him assuming they want to go to bed with them. And I felt the same way! It was with girls that I first got comfortable with hugging and kissing and cuddling. I think I was getting more physical contact with girls than most of the straight boys were. Funny, huh? From talking to other gay boys, I found out that my experience was fairly common.

I can’t say the PDP taught me this stuff, but without the PDP, I was really afraid of girls. After I went on Puericil/PB, I began to see how much more mature were most girls my age compared to most boys. Certainly compared to me! They were also taller than most boys the same age, but like I said, a boy who can “lead” has it made! Didn’t Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire wear elevator shoes?

Along with this non-sexual physical intimacy, one of the girls very tactfully, very sensitively opened me up on the subject of gayness. I told her I was scared and unsure of myself. I was afraid of rejection, but I was also afraid of acceptance! I felt turned on by some boys, but what did it mean to be gay, act gay? I was clueless. And she said there are other boys like you, nice boys, and they’re here in this school. Just connect! I asked who they were. She said I should try being friendly to boys, not just to girls. You’ll find out soon enough!

[Long pause]

Q. You’re going to make me ask?

Just teasing! Sure enough, I got to talking to two boys who were definitely not part of the crowd I was running with back when I tried to plant a camera in the girls’ locker room. These boys were quiet and smart and cute. I had thought that I liked jocks, and I still have a taste for hunky kids who aren’t jerks, but almost at once these two boys and I started hanging out. The more I saw them, the more I liked them in every way. They were funny without being nasty, they were interested in all kinds of stuff, and they made no secret that their interests included other boys. I’d been in gym class with them before, without really looking at them. Now I looked, and the attraction sizzled for me. Ta da! They admitted they had the hots for me too.

I thought the two of them were about the best-looking guys in our class. We were all the same age just about, not more than 4 or 5 months difference, both of them a little older than me. So at 12 and a few months, Scott (the oldest) was dark-haired, taller, and had a bit more body hair than I did, but he had a really small dick, even for his age. That’s when I discovered that I love really small dicks! Cole was a month older than me, a classic blond hair/blue-eyed boy. Cole lagged behind both of us physically. He was shorter; his dick was average, like mine, but pubeless. That’s when I discovered my passion for hairless bodies!

Q. So you’re a ginger hanging out with a blond and a brunet; you boys make quite a colorful picture! I saw the polo shirt ad that featured the three of you.

I guess the ad agency also thought we were cute. After the shoot, the three of us stripped off and dove into the pool. Most of the camera crew joined us. That was a fun day! When we showered afterwards, I was so turned on I was shaking. Back at Scott’s house, we had a three-way that woke up the dead.

Q, Then you had a setback, didn’t you?

The Great Pot Bust, you mean? I suppose it was a setback, and it was a factor in extending my time in the PDP, but it’s really silly. Scott’s brother brought back some weed from college over the winter holiday. He gave Scott a couple of joints; Scott brought one to school. To show you how naive we were, we lit up in an unlocked supply closet during lunch hour. I’m sure only about 500 people could smell us smoking the weed.

No one takes pot that seriously any more, but you’re not supposed to indulge on campus. Fortunately we weren’t trying to push the stuff, and if it had been Scott and Cole by themselves, they would probably have gotten only a slap on the wrist. But the admin couldn’t very well ignore Scott and Cole while punishing me, so guess what? Scott and Cole got slammed into the PDP to keep me company. We were all of us 13 years old then.

Should I go on? It gets a bit smutty after this!

Q. Among other things, we hope to hear about the impact of Puericil/PB on the sexual development of PDP participants, so please continue.

I hope you won’t be disappointed, there aren’t any surprises here. Three gay boys who were already crazy about each other continue to have fun, thank you very much!

It was only a few weeks after we became friends, and before the Great Pot Bust, when Scott announced that he wasn’t going to have pubes until we all had pubes. He borrowed this electronic tweezer thingie that his mother used on her legs, and while Cole and I looked on, Scott ran the thingie over his crotch and balls. In a couple of minutes, he was bald down there. He said it was better than shaving or Nair. Less irritation and NO stubble. He was right about the stubble, he looked like he’d never grown hair down there at all!

Cole then grabbed the tweezer thingie and ran it over any place on Scott’s body that had any sign of hair or fuzz. Then we tackled Cole. He had nothing to show but wispies, but we were merciless, we did away with them.

Afterwards, we continued our weekly routine with the tweezer thingie. It seemed to make Scott’s pubes grow thinner and thinner, even before he and Cole joined me as Puericil Boys. So all three of us were already as bare as babes, and loving it. Now that Scott’s tiny peepee was exposed to the fresh air, he could easily prove that he was the King of Small Cocks. When he was soft, and it was a cool day, he had just about an inch. Adorable!

Maybe this next development will surprise you. Older, bigger guys became more and more interested in us. Obviously we were young and appeared younger, we had “twink” looks. Then we turned 14, then 15, without growing at all. We really were cute little munchkins, and we all had real studs wooing us! These were guys who fit the mould of what a handsome high school kid should look like—tall, masculine, athletic. Most of them were even dating girls while pursuing a side dish of boy flesh.

Many of them acted like they were God’s gift, we should let them fuck us and be grateful. We told them to go fuck themselves. A few of them were genuinely nice, or at least asked politely, and then we’d give it some thought.

Among ourselves, the sex was (and is) mostly oral. That was satisfying, and so was finger-fucking. But occasionally one or the other of us fancied a big cock up his ass. Problem was, most of these “studs” were clueless about giving pleasure to the person they were fucking. Made us wonder why girls put up with this slam-bam-thank-you-mam crap. So we became sex educators!

The deal was, we wouldn’t put out for a guy unless he agreed to let us explore his butt. We taught our tricks about the prostate and the pleasure of having it gently massaged (unlike the jab they got in the doctor’s office). We were always able to get the guy hard by fingering him, then continue fingering while pleasuring his cock until he came. You should have heard the gasps and moans, and the tearful prayers that we never ever tell ANYONE about what happened. But we had repeaters! One varsity football player, who was actually a sweet guy as dickheads go, came back three times, then agreed to let us use a strap-on. When he graduated, he cried.

But mostly we much prefer sex with each other. We know each other’s g-spots. We love our looks. We like each other. We’re really just like boys in their early tween years, before zits and body hair and body odor mess things up. Most boys in those early tween years are already very interested in sex. Most of them are already jerking off to dry orgasms. For me and Scott and Cole, Puericil/PB just extended into high school the physical appearance of those early tween years.

They say we are immature socially. BS! With counseling and help from Puericil/PB, I’ve overcome the silly antics of my adolescence. I’m at least average in school, and I get along with everybody. How is that not mature? As for Scott and Cole, they’ve always been well-adjusted kids. We’re thriving with Puericil/PB, and I can’t see any gain from springing puberty on us at this late date.

Comment on Case Study No. 2:

Opinion is sharply divided regarding the case of George L. All agree that he has improved overall during the Puericil Disciplinary Program. Disagreement concerns the extent of the improvement, and the desire of George (and his friends Scott and Cole) to continue their Puericil/PB regimen indefinitely. The dividing line is roughly between [1] those experts who hold to the original view of Puericil as punitive, and [2] the growing number of experts who see Puericil as both rehabilitative and prophylactic. We start by summarizing the analysis of those experts who take the original view.

Everyone questions George’s self-assessment. Their teachers agree that George, Scott, and Cole are much above average in intelligence. The fact that all three are satisfied with average academic achievement shows poor judgment and a strong tendency to “goof off.”

It is true they are very popular. They have made themselves the “Clown Princesses” of their school. Their openness has inspired an unusually tolerant attitude toward the LGBTQ community among their fellow students. Many students, and even teachers, enjoy their humor, calling it “refreshing.”

For example, they join the school marching band, following behind with their own instruments—a wheelbarrow, a frying pan, and a seat cushion. Wearing wigs and tight jeans, they form their own cheer-leading section. They have made a music video that has been a sensation on the Internet. Wearing full drag, and singing to the tune of “This Girl Is on Fire,” they sing and dance their own version, “This Boy Is a Bottom.” They recruited much of the football team to portray the shame-faced “bottoms.”

Not everyone is delighted, however. The actual marching band and cheerleaders are also performers. They want to play their music and do their routines without being upstaged. Many have privately expressed frustration over what they feel is ridicule. Even members of the LGBTQ community complain about pressure to be flamboyant. George seems unaware of these hurt feelings, or he may be aware but indifferent.

In short, some experts believe strongly that George has not achieved the maturity of outlook that is the goal of the PDP. He continues to prioritize fun and games over his responsibilities. A Puericil Boy, like other youths, must prepare himself for adulthood. These experts say that growing older without growing up is not a satisfactory outcome.

Those experts who emphasize the rehabilitative and prophylactic aspects of Puericil treatment make similar observations but draw different conclusions. Boys, they say, mature at different rates. Enrollment in the PDP doesn’t change this fact. If a boy makes progress in the PDP, he shouldn’t be considered a failure merely because he lacks the emotional maturity of some of his age peers. Implicit in these experts’ argument is that the then-current end point for a boy’s participation in the PDP [age 16 or graduation from middle school, whichever comes first] is unduly constraining.

These experts also object to the dismissive view of the “clowning” by George, Scott, and Cole. They consider the clowning to reveal real talent for comedy and satire. Unlike some high school pranks [including some of George’s before he started on Puericil/PB], the clowning did not disrupt classes and was never cruel. They concede that some people might feel hurt by the jokes, but they maintain that comedy by its nature almost always offends somebody. Notably, the boys never got “personal;” they didn’t direct their jokes against an individual student or teacher.

Another interesting difference in expert opinion regards the pot-smoking incident. The experts who view the PDP as essentially punitive disagree with the enrollment of Scott and Cole in the PDP; they consider the enrollment disproportionate to the misconduct and inappropriate. Other experts agree that enrollment considered as punishment was disproportionate to the offense, but they support enrollment as a prophylactic measure.

There was general satisfaction with George’s robust sexual development. Before official adoption of the PDP, some opponents expressed concern that Puericil/PB would essentially neuter the individuals who received the treatment. The experience of virtually ALL of the boys in the PDP is to the contrary. In particular, those boys who were enrolled as a consequence of sexual misconduct did not lose their sexual energies but instead re-focused those energies in socially acceptable ways. Similarly, psychiatric evaluation of George has tended to confirm his self-perception that he was “gay all along.” (However, as we will see in later case studies, the impact of Puericil on boys’ sexual development continues to be somewhat controversial.)

Finally, we note that George, Scott, and Cole are now seniors in high school, and they continue on Puericil/PB. The PDP administrators granted a petition by the three boys, supported both by the boys’ parents and their teachers, for continuation of the PDP in their case. The continuation order marked the first noteworthy success for the prophylactic approach.

Case Study No. 3: Danny T

Q. When did you begin taking Puericil/PB? How long did you take it?

I was pretty close to 14, and I stopped about 18 months later, when I started M-to-F transitioning.

Q. We’ll get to your transition, but first please tell us how you came to be in the PDP.

I was an ice hockey player. Big for my age, not a fast skater, so I was a defenseman. If you know the sport, you know that there’s a lot of body contact, even in the junior league. So I used my size a lot, especially when digging the puck out of corners. Up against the boards going after the puck, gloves and elbows and knees and sticks are flying. There’s accidental contact and some that’s not so accidental, and tempers are lost real easy. It’s that kind of game.

So I’m getting pissed off with this one forward, who is getting pissed off with me. We both get warned. A few minutes later, they get a 3-on-2 rush, this forward has a step on me and I see he’s going to get around me. If they manage to feed him the puck, he’ll have a clear shot on goal. Not to say that he won’t blow it, but I’ll look bad; plus I hate his guts. So I reach out with my stick and pull his skates out from under him as he sails by me.

Not only is this dirty play, but it’s obvious; no way the ref is gonna miss it. And it’s dangerous. A guy skating at full speed—faster than he can run—and suddenly loses traction, there’s nothing he can do to steer or stop, he’s gonna hit the boards, maybe head first. Of course, we’re all wearing helmets and other protective gear, but a guy hitting the boards head first could break his neck. This guy didn’t do that, but he broke his arm and dislocated his shoulder. The collision and the snap could be heard all over the arena.

The referee gives me a major penalty for tripping with resulting injury, a misconduct for roughing, and a game misconduct for intent to injure. Then I’m banished for the season after they reviewed the video of the trip. And that’s just the discipline handed out by the league.

It was a close thing for me that I wasn’t charged with a criminal offense, but the video also revealed that the forward had gotten away with elbowing and cross-checking me a few minutes earlier in the game. If they charged me, they might have to charge the forward. In any case, they decided there was enough provocation by the other guy that I should be cut some slack. So into the PDP I go.

Q. When you started in the Puericil Disciplinary Program, you were quite muscular?

Yeah, for a guy just shy of 14, I was muscular. As I said, I was fairly tall, about 5'8", and about 160 pounds. I thought I was good-looking. Anyway, I'm blond, with those Nordic looks that excite a lot of people. I thought I was a stud, and it seemed that there were a lot of folks who enjoyed looking at me. Boys, girls, teachers. I do have a nice smile!

Q. How were you doing in school?

I did OK. Really, I was planning on getting an athletic scholarship to state college, and for that purpose, a B average was fine. I didn’t see any reason to work harder at that point, and I was doing a lot of sports, so there wasn’t a lot of study time available. I could have done better, and I know some teachers said I was underachieving, academically. Whatever!

The PDP upset my plans.

Q. You are referring to your suspension from team sports during the PDP?

More than that. I knew that as long as I was on Puericil/PB, I wouldn't grow much, and my muscular development would stop. Most likely, without exercise, I would lose a lot of the muscle that I already had. For someone who wanted to be an athlete, well, being on Puericil/PB at 14 and 15 was just about the worst thing that could happen.

For the typical boy athlete, those are crucial years for learning, growing, training, you name it. That athlete goes from being a fairy uncoordinated kid, like I was, to a young man with most of the power and the skill set that he will ever have. Even for a late-developing kid, he’s got to lay the foundation for the athlete he hopes to become.

There was a chance, in theory, that I would complete my time in the PDP in a few months. I thought my chances were slim to none. I’d been a cocky kid, something of a wise ass. With my blond hair and biceps, I thought I was hot stuff. So, some of the school admin kinda had it in for me. My teachers and coaches knew there was another side to me, but then that horrible, stupid trip dried up whatever sympathy I might have gotten.

Yeah, that trip was a life-changer, and to my own great surprise, for the better.

Q. Describe your early days on Puericil/PB.

The changes were dramatic, even in the first week. I had a big bush of pubes and a little bit of hair in my armpits. It started to fall out the evening of my first shot. Somehow, I wasn’t upset, only curious.

Before that shot, I was shaking with nerves and kicking myself for my stupidity. Within an hour, I calmed down. I cried, but it wasn’t hysterical crying. It was more a sob, like a kid who’s just disappointed his parents or a teacher he really liked. I’ve talked with other boys from the PDP, and they describe having the same emotional reaction. Suddenly you’re a little boy who’s really REALLY in need of a hug!

I found myself telling my parents that I loved them, and I hoped they still loved me, and I was so relieved when they said yes, they did, and then I cried some more. Before the week was over, I was calling them Mommy and Daddy. I remember my father acting a little embarrassed at first, but my mother was delighted. She started calling me honey and sweetheart, and even my father called me sweetie now and then when we were at home. I guess my need for comforting was already making me seem younger, not the teenage boy anymore.

A few days later, Daddy fetched Mr Ted down from the attic. Mr Ted had been banished there, over my strong objections, when I was 7 or 8. I’m sure you’ve guessed that Mr Ted is my teddy bear. I was SO happy to have him again, I gave Daddy a kiss on the cheek, and Daddy gave me a hug. As the saying goes, a hug is worth a thousand words.

Q. That’s a saying?

If it isn’t, it oughta be. But I’m getting ahead of myself. On Day 2 of my time in the PDP, my best friend Paul came to see me after school. I suppose his visit changed my life. Both our lives.

About Paul. He’s also an athlete, better than I ever was. His sport is water polo. It’s much like ice hockey, actually. Similar strategy, lots of physical contact, but Paul has a swimmer’s body. Muscular but lean; I was muscular back then but bulky.

Paul is a couple months older than me, and he’s my height. What he lacked was nearly any sign of puberty. His skin was free of acne. He didn’t shave—he never had to. He had a few wispies at either side of his cock, but there wasn’t enough of them to join at the middle. Of course as a swimmer he could have shaved even those wispies, and no one would have been surprised. His explanation was that he didn’t own a razor back then, didn’t know how to shave, and was afraid to practice on such a sensitive area!

One more thing about Paul, his cock was super-thin. I don’t know how long it was. Every boy in the boy sex stories seems to measure his cock daily, but somehow we never did. I do know that his erect cock stayed thin and was just a bit longer than my fairly average cock when I was soft. Judging from what was on display in the showers, Paul was quite small. I can say I know Paul’s cock very well.

Paul and I have been best friends since forever. Like, since kindergarten. We were in school together, we were in boy scouts together. We had sleepovers. His folks knew and liked me; my folks were crazy about Paul. I’m not sure anybody disliked Paul. He played sports and games, but was the same person win or lose. He had feelings and showed them, so it’s not like he was a Goody-Two-Shoes. He had a gentle sense of humor. And he was [still is] very good-looking, not like a model, like a real person.

Paul and I know each other’s bodies. We’d been exploring each other all along, as kids do. When we discovered orgasm, we discovered it together, probably at age 10, or even earlier. We jacked each other off; we tasted each other’s first wet cum and liked it. Up until 12 or 13, we didn’t think anything of this. Seems like all the boys in middle school were jacking each other off.

We talked about girls starting when we reached 12 or 13. We both had some dates; I pretended that I enjoyed myself. God knows what my dates thought of it, I was so clumsy and tentative. I really wasn’t interested; that must have been obvious to them. Paul told me he’d managed to get one girl’s bra off. He likes tits, and he’s so tender and gentle it must have been nice for both of them. He dated that girl a couple of times, then … nada.

I had sucked Paul off once, then repeated it. We both experienced it as something way better than what we’d done before. I also thought that maybe this was more significant, that maybe this wasn’t something a straight boy routinely did to his straight boy friend. Paul said it was great, I could do it to him whenever I felt like, but he didn’t offer to return the favor. Before I could talk it over with Paul, I tripped that guy as he skated past, then I fell into the PDP.

When Paul showed up on Day 2, I half feared it was to tell me he wouldn’t be my friend any more because I turned out to be not the kind of person he’d thought I was. He put that fear to rest without speaking a word; he took me in his arms as soon as he walked through our front door.

I was in tears. Soon Paul was too. He told me I was NOT the person who’d tripped that guy, that person wasn’t the real me. And even if the real me had messed up big-time, I was still the same person, still his best friend. “I love you, Champ,” he said. That was the last time he ever called me Champ. From then on it was Dan or more often Danny.

We sat down. We were holding hands. “Danny, I have something important to tell you, that I’ve been wanting to tell you. I’m not sure why, but it seems right to tell you today. I’m gay.”

I was so choked up with emotion, it was painful. I felt like I had to let it out or die. “Paul, I’m not sure whether I’m gay. I am sure that I love you, as a friend and in every other way too.”

We were in my bedroom. The door was closed. I’m sure my parents had a good idea what games we got up to, and they never seemed to mind, they gave us our space. Paul opened my fly; I opened his and started to jerk him off, but he said no and maneuvered us into a 69 position. We both came in buckets, much too fast. We looked at each other’s face and started to laugh. Paul licked his cum from my face—“Waste not, want not”—and I cleaned his face up the same way. We kissed our faces all over. We did this while we’re still fully clothed, except our flies were open and our dicks were hanging out.

Paul said something like, “I see the P-pill hasn’t hurt your performance.” Then he gently and slowly started to pull my shirt from my jeans, opened the button at the top of my jeans, freed my shirt, unbuttoned it, slid it off my shoulders. I kicked my sneakers off, and he yanked my socks off with a flourish. He kissed my toes and tickled the soles of my feet, then slid up alongside me and began gently tweaking and teasing and tickling me all over my torso (nipples, belly button, arm pits) while kissing me on my neck and collar bone. I was shaking with lust and laughter.

“Your armpits are smooth already. What’s it like down here?” Then Paul slowly slid my jeans and briefs over my hips, down my legs, off my feet—and let the last of my clothes drop to the floor. I turned my hips at the waist and put my right arm over my head. I stretched my body. I was consciously trying to give Paul access to every inch of me. Yes consciously, deliberately. I was recalling a painting of a curvy nude woman in some sultan’s harem.

The woman in the painting is presenting her butt to the viewer. It is the ample butt of a mature woman, but I too had an ample butt and thighs. Every skater develops thunder thighs, that’s where the power of his stride comes from, but now I was offering myself to Paul, and I could see and feel his response. His arm snaked down to the cleft in my buns. His hand played over them, his fingers penetrated the butt crack. Boys weren’t supposed to let themselves be penetrated like that, somehow I knew that, but I also knew I wanted Paul to penetrate me, to take possession of me. I was taking the woman’s role, and I was excited more than I ever I was before, I could feel the pre-cum dribbling from my dick.

Paul turned me over from side to side, kissing and licking me everywhere, telling me my body was lovely. After LOTS of fingering and caressing, he came back to my cock. “You still have some pubes,” he said smiling, and it was true. They had thinned, and I had noticed some patches were almost bald, but … I knew almost instinctively that the woman in the painting would have had no body hair, and I wanted my own baldness to be total. I had no whiskers yet, but my pubes were just WRONG. I wished them gone—between the two of us, only Paul was entitled to have any body hair.

Paul played with my dick, collected the oozing pre-cum. Then he rubbed the ooze over my pubes, and as he rubbed, the remaining pubes seemed to yield. Little by little, the bald spot grew. Sure, it was the Puericil’s work, but Paul & I imagined it was his magic touch! He wiped little clumps of pubes onto the sheets. He tugged on the stragglers. Their resistance was feeble, they all came out with little bulbs at the end—the roots?

Paul kissed me on the lips and told me to look down. I was now perfectly, totally pubeless. My darling, my lover had depubed me. I was grateful. I freely surrendered to him this visible token of my manhood. I didn’t need the token, didn’t want it…

Yeah, I remember you said right at the beginning that we’d get to my transition later, but what I’ve been trying to tell you is that my “transition” started in my head during that first week in the PDP. In fact, it started with Paul’s visit on Day 2.

Q. Thank you, that was a powerful narrative, and I can see from your excitement how much it means to you. How did things go from there with Paul and others—your families, your classmates, your teachers?

I was lucky. By this time, the PLP was well accepted: PLP boys had done bad stuff, but they were trying to become better persons. There were PLP boys who moped, or showed a lot of attitude, but most were like me, they just sorta calmed down. And at least in my own school, there was a feeling that the guy I tripped had it coming. He didn’t really, and I said so, and people thought I was a good sport for saying so. Funny how things work out.

The jocks still claimed me as an ex-jock. As for the other kids, I was friendly, and my cocky attitude was gone. Teachers were happy too. My grades improved. Still not straight-A, but college material. Paul was and is Mr Congeniality; any one who hung out with Paul was cool.

My blond looks helped out. Girls looked forward to my weekly nude days, some boys did too, and to be honest so did I. When I started in the PDP, my homeroom teacher (who was also my Civics teacher) was still in his twenties and nice-looking. I tried not to be TOO obvious but I loved being publicly stripped by him. If this is punishment … please, Sir, may I have more?

Family? Paul's folks and my own both had us pegged for gay, long long before we did ourselves. It was a while before I spoke to my folks about being trans, but I was acting increasingly like a girl of my age. A little flirty, a little giggly. Paul was never particularly butch, but soon he was taller than me, and he was obviously the guy in the couple.

Even now, I feel that I march to my own drum about who I am sexually. I mean, I'm not at all sure how far I wanna carry my transition. I know that for me, it has nothing to do with cross-dressing or wearing make-up. Dame Edna is not my thing! I love having a curvy body, especially my pert little tits, but I definitely want to keep my plumbing. As for the two little marbles next to my dick, well, their fate is uncertain! We'll see how I feel when I’ve been on HRT a lot longer. It’s not like my balls are going anywhere.

Actually, some people thought I’d already started HRT. I noticed some sensitivity in my nipples pretty soon, I’d say a couple months after my Puericil/PB injections began. Over a period of a few weeks, my nipples became puffy, and they were so-o-o sensitive, just mind-boggling! Then I could feel the tissue under the nipples expanding. It wasn’t pectorals, I was sure of that; I’d begun losing muscle slowly but steadily. I’d been dreaming of getting tits, and now I had them!

The doctor explained what was going on at one of my periodic PDP check-ups. All boys produce the female hormone in tiny amounts, which is why a boy in early puberty sometimes gets puffies, until his male hormone production takes over and the puffies soon disappear. Puericil/PB throws a monkey wrench into that process. By shutting down the growth hormone, it eventually shuts down the sex hormones, and it also disrupts the body’s normal response to testosterone, which is why the body hair falls out, muscles stop growing, and so on. But Puericil/PB doesn’t affect response to the female hormone, and what happens for a few boys like me is that as the testosterone level falls, the small amount of female hormone is able to stimulate breast growth!

In fact, I actually had an increased level of female hormone for a long while; maybe I’m just an outlier. Anyway, I’m not complaining! I was getting girlish curves in many places, not only my boobs. I didn’t gain weight, I even lost a little, but my muscle mass dropped dramatically, and my skin got softer. As a skater, I already had a big tush and thighs. I still do, but now the flesh is round and squishy, not bands of hard muscle.

Over the summer, I got slowly but steadily more curvacious. My blond hair grew fast and was now shoulder-length. I didn’t want to dress as a girl, which meant that when I showed up at school in the fall, my girly parts were REALLY bulging.

I got a new homeroom teacher. Ms Beatrice Bixbee, old Double B. Ms Bixbee is almost 6 feet tall in flats. She had been a college athlete. A competitive weightlifter, no less! She is built like a refrigerator. We all assumed that she’s a dyke, but whatever her personal life is, she leaves it at home. At school, Double B is all business. She coaches women's sports, but she's not a gym teacher, she teaches Biology and Sex Ed. She’s a good, no-nonsense teacher, and teaching those subjects in middle school, she has to be no-nonsense. And this was the person now in charge of stripping me naked for my weekly nude days!

My Civics teacher had always been uncomfortable when stripping me; he kept his eyes away from me as much as possible. Not Double B, however. She looked me right in the eye the whole time! You know what femdom is, right? Here is this big powerful woman, strong enough to pick me up and toss me over her shoulder, and she's holding my gaze every second (or as much as possible) as she undresses me one item at a time.

I was always quivering with Ms Bixbee, the experience was absolutely electric. I did what I could to draw it out. I wore complex outfits with a vest, or even better a sweater that Ms Bixbee had to pull over my head. I loved the feel of the sweater coming off, then tossing my hair after it was off. Then getting down to my T-shirt, with my nipples poking out, and feeling the T-shirt as it slid over my arms, and having my nice new breasts exposed to view. Soon my slacks were sliding down my legs, and finally Ms Bixbee’s fingers were in the waistband of my silk panties (the one feminine item I couldn’t resist). Slipping my panties to the floor and lifting my feet one at a time to remove my panties completely. Exposing my hairless little peepee and balls, which I thought had shrunk some for the same reason my breasts had grown.

Double B went by her work quietly, her face a complete deadpan. I so-o-o wanted her to touch me! One day I couldn’t resist; as she lowered my panties, I bent slightly at the waist and swiveled my hips so that my tush contacted her hands and her fingers brushed my bum crack. I heard some titters from the class. Ms Bixbee shut that down at once. "None of that, Dan!" The room became quiet, and I hung my head.

After school, I came by to apologize to Ms Bixbee. I had to confess that I got a lot of pleasure from having her undressed me. Double B allowed a little smile to cross her face. "Thank you, Danny. Feel free to come by again and talk about it, after you turn 18."

Believe it or not, it was only then that I realized what a dangerous game I’d been playing, that I could get both of us into serious trouble. The next day came the announcement that, in light of my "medical condition," my weekly nude days were canceled.

I'm not sure whether Ms Bixbee had anything to do with the announcement. Rocket science was not required to realize the effect I was having on the school. Here I was, a dishy blonde walking from class to class, either stark naked or positively busting out of my clothes. There were traffic jams in the hallways; teachers stood at the doors of their classrooms to get a peek. I’d guess this was not the intent of the PDP.

Q. Let’s not forget your meeting with the boy you injured. I assume you two did meet?

I met with the boy—Doug’s his name—pretty soon after I was placed in the PDP. His whole right arm was immobilized. He told me the arm didn’t really start to hurt until they had set it and popped the shoulder back into the joint. Then he didn’t sleep for two nights, even with the pain-killer. But he wanted to see me too, so after a few more days, and they had backed off the pain-killer, I came to his house.

His mom sent me to Doug’s bedroom. He was in his pajamas. First time I got a good look at him, without the hockey pads and helmet. He was nice-looking. His brown hair was lush and full and flopped boyishly over his forehead. His complexion was fresh and pink. Downright wholesome, which is not typical for jocks. He waited for me to talk.

I told him I had no excuses. I did something that was way over the line. I added that I was a crap hockey player, trying to make up for lack of skill by cheap, tough-guy antics.

Doug looked surprised. He probably thought I would come up with some sorry-ass explanation, like I’d acted on impulse or I’d slipped. When I instead took full responsibility, he kinda pulled in his horns. He said the referee should take some of the blame. If the ref had handed out penalties as soon as the rough-housing started, things might have cooled off.

I thanked Doug for being decent about it, but look, the ref was not the guy who tripped him. And I said that if ever there was anything I could for him, he only had to ask.

Doug grinned. “Actually, there is a favor you could do me. See, I depend on my right arm to handle something besides a hockey puck.” I looked at his pajama bottoms. I could see what he meant.

“Yeah, Doug, I can definitely help with that. In fact, if you promise not to freak out, I can do you better than a wank.” I reached down and yanked the bottoms below his knees, then pushed his shirt well up to get a good look at his mid-section. I liked what I saw. His dick was average or a bit more. He had a pubic bush that fitted tightly over his dick. No “treasure trail,” no hair on his balls or thighs. I took him in my mouth, and I could see this was new to him. I tried to draw out the process, but he’d gone without for too long, he was on a hair trigger.

He thanked me, said it was fantastic. I said he didn’t yet know what fantastic was. We both relaxed, we chatted and joked and got comfortable with each other, and then he was ready for another go. This time I was careful to lick all around his dick. I got his balls in my mouth; I kissed his belly up to his navel; I pushed up his pajama top and licked his nipples. He was gasping the whole time. I could almost see him thinking, wow, what have I been missing?

Then I went down below, got between his balls and butt crack, then into his butt crack, just a little, before he clenched. Not his thing, he said; thanks anyway. What a shame—his butt was still hairless, and his butt cheeks were as pink as his face. When I finally got his dick back in mouth, he came almost as quickly as the first time.

Q. I think we get the general idea. Were there any further developments between you and Doug on the personal level?

Not really. I came back to Doug’s house 2-3 more times. The sex was OK for me, better than OK for Doug, but he was always emphatic about being totally straight. Finally, he let me rim him and stick a finger up his butt to massage his prostate, but he made me swear to tell no one. So now, you have to swear to tell no one! Anyway, when Doug got the cast off, he cast me off too, which was fine with me.

Comment on Case Study No. 3:

The Puericil Disciplinary Program does not discriminate on the basis of sexual preference, nor does it concern itself with sexual behavior, so long as a boy does not force sexual attentions on an unwilling partner. However, where a boy imposes himself (through harassment or physical compulsion), placement of the boy in the PDP may be appropriate, so long as the behavior does not rise to the level of criminal misconduct. Here, Danny T’s bodily contact with Ms Bixbee may be considered borderline harassment, which would have extended his time in the PDP.

Ms Bixbee herself reported the incident, but she also urged that under the circumstances, no action be taken against him. [“The boy did take ‘no’ for answer.”] The administrator also adopted Ms Bixbee’s recommendation to cancel Danny’s nude days.

There is also a broader question, prompted by the experience of Danny T as well as George L and others who have been through the PDP: Why do many of these boys emerge over the course of the PDP as gay, transexual, or otherwise non-binary? Does Puericil/PB affect boys’ sexuality, resulting in unexpectedly high rates of sexual nonconformity? While the question is still being studied, the evidence to date suggests that Puericil in any form does not have any causal effect on sexual preference.

Despite reported instances of genetic boys identifying as girls from a very early age, pre-pubertal boys are overwhelmingly conventional when questioned about their self-perceived gender and sexuality. At about age 10 or thereabouts, these questions take on more immediacy. Boys begin to explore sexual sensations by themselves. During the “tween” years (10-15), they commonly also play sexual games with other boys, which may or may not affect their self-image as “straight” in their orientation.

Some boys decide that they are actually “gay” even before they reach puberty. However, the onset of puberty is generally the trigger point for boys who question the gay/straight duality and come to identify as something else, not fitting within either category. What this non-binary “something” might be is often hard to decide. Choices include transgenderism, bisexuality, and androgyny, to name a few.

As a residual category, “non-binary” is a welcome simplification for the statistician, but it is anything but simple for the boy trying to find his real self. In his tween years, he is still learning about his feelings and attractions while dealing with social and familial pressures.

But to return to the issue we raised earlier, i.e., Puericil’s possible effect on boys’ sexuality, the PDP population is made up entirely of boys between the ages of 10 and 15, which is precisely the age group in which large numbers of boys begin to think of themselves as gay or non-binary. It should come as no surprise, therefore, if the prevalence of sexual non-conformity seems higher in this specific age group than among the general population of younger or older males.

If Puericil itself does not “cause” sexual non-conformity, there are factors that might induce PDP boys to to be more analytical and introspective than is commonly the case among their peers. They must critically examine their prior conduct, and not only the specific bad conduct that landed them in the program. Also, the puberty blocker is universally reported to have a strongly calming influence. (The experience of George L and Danny T is typical in this regard.) By reducing boys’ anxieties, the boys may be able to think more clearly and objectively about their sexuality, with less concern about social pressures. These factors do seem to play a part in the surprisingly quick transformation of boys like George L and Danny T from “straight-acting” to open non-conformity.

Critics of Puericil/PB, and of the PDP in general, seem to regard the drug as capable of turning treated boys into male adolescent versions of the Stepford Wives. However, all of the boys are studied over the entire course of the program, and they seem as diverse at the end of the program as when they started. These critics either are unaware or flatly deny that ways of being “gay” or “non-binary” are at least as broad as ways of being “straight.” This case study exemplifies the unpredictability of non-binary expression.

Danny T now strongly identifies as M-to-F transexual, but he does not fit any stereotype. His attire is mostly still boyish. He readily switches from campy to butch or anything in between, as his mood or situation suggests to him. His relationship with Paul continues to be stable but non-exclusive. He is attracted to many “types,” including girls on occasion. He no longer competes in organized sports programs, but he often plays in “pick-up” games of volleyball or softball. He is not a perfect kid, but he has become a much happier one.

Case Study No. 4: Terence J

Q. How old were you when you started on Puericil/PB?

Fifteen. Yeah, about two months after I turned 15.

Q. Why were you placed in the Puericil Disciplinary Program?

This and that. Broads mainly.

Q. You mean you molested girls?

I played sex games with a lot of girls in my class. From flirting to fucking and everything in between.

Q. If they were “games” as you say, why did they get you into trouble?

You’re kidding, right? One girl, her parents walk in on us, and she acts like she’s resisting me. Or say the girl gets pregnant and makes up a sad story about how it happened. Or the girl’s a virgin, she starts bleeding and gets hysterical.

Q. You never used force?

You think that’s a simple question, don’t you?! A girl and I are making out, we’re hugging each other. When she tells the story afterwards, I was holding her by force. I sure as hell wasn’t holding her by force when we started, she was pleased as punch!

Q. Did you never discuss limits with your date?

Sure we did! I’ll give you an example, what I’m telling you really happened just like I’m telling it. This girl and I agree: Heavy petting’s OK but nothing more. She takes off her blouse, unclips her bra; I’m feeling up her tits. She unzips me, whips out my dick, and is jacking me off. Is this still just “heavy petting,” nothing more? Feels like more to me!

Look, I get it, I could have asked whether we weren’t both going over the line. And if we were crossing the line, how far over? Yeah, I could have asked. I could probably also have done my math homework while licking her nipples. Get real! At some point, my hand goes into her panties. She’s had her hand balls-deep into my crotch, but all of a sudden she’s screaming!

Q. If I hear correctly what you’re saying, you simply had some dates that ended in a misunderstanding. Did you never think that there was a pattern to these misunderstandings, or that they seemed to happen frequently?

I did. It took a while, and I needed counseling to get there. Actually it was a woman who got the message across. In most of my dates—well, all of my dates—I reached a point where I was only listening to my dick. Sometimes, at that point, bad things happened.

Sometimes, the girl also gets swept up in the horniness. We can both be at fault for things going sour. You can bet it’ll be the boy that gets the blame!

I know, it sounds like I’m still making excuses, but I’m not really. What I’m saying is, we’re not doing girls any favors by telling them that they are always the victims. They gotta learn to deal with puberty, just like boys do.

Q. Do you think your size was intimidating?

Sure. It could hardly not be. When I turned 15, I was over 6 feet tall and close to 200 pounds. My dick was plenty big too, judging from what I saw in the locker room. I have a deep voice, and I was shaving already. My crotch and pits had big bushes. Good growth of fuzz on my arms and legs, too. My male relatives have hairy chests, but I wasn’t there yet.

Q. Are you proud of your size and your manliness?

No, how can I take credit? It’s only genes; I just grew. I liked what I saw in the mirror, though. I always felt I could handle myself. No one ever tried to push me around. I never felt like I had to prove myself. I just wanna get my rocks off! Been that way since I was 12.

Q. What has taking Puericil/PB been like for you?

Well, there was the shock of losing the whiskers and body hair. The hairs were gone in a few days, but then the shock was gone too in just a few days more. These days, every day and all day, I’m not the only one, there are lots of naked guys walking around school. It’s not like my head is gonna explode.

I like my body. I’m a big guy. Lots of body-builders and other athletes shave their bodies. Hairless bodies have plenty of sex appeal. If the idea was that I was suddenly going to be weak and pitiful and ashamed of myself, that idea was way wrong. If anything, I was getting more admiring stares after the body hair disappeared.

I understand that after a few months, a PDP guy seems to lose muscle, and he definitely hasn’t grown any. Well, hey, I’m 16 already, I’m out of the program, my body hair is coming back, and I wasn’t in the PDP long enough for those other effects to be noticeable. I guess I spotted some loss of muscle tone, but I’m not sure anyone else did. And how much bigger was I gonna grow anyway?

Calming influence? I guess. There was some relief from the constant horniness. I was able to listen to other people for a change, and even hear what they were saying. Now that I’m off the drug, I feel that the sexual buzz has returned, although maybe having a break from it has helped me learn some things. That’s what I hope anyway.

Comment on Case Study No. 4:

This case shows several shortcomings of the Puericil Disciplinary Program, even after the reformulation of Puericil. Chiefly, the therapy has limited usefulness for boys who enter the PDP at the upper end of the target age group (10-15). For a 15-year old, such as Terence J, there is not enough time for the puberty-blocking and associated physical effects to have much impact. As we discuss later, a further reformulation of Puericil has been adopted to address these shortcomings.

At first glance, the PDP did little for Terence J during his 10 months on Puericil/PB. At most, he is ambivalent about his sexual addiction and toxic masculinity. He is stubbornly defensive about his long record of misconduct.

Terence J is handsome and intelligent. He comes from a prominent, wealthy family. He gets good grades with little effort. He is a natural athlete, but he does not pursue sports. He pursues girls. In school, alone or with another “stud,” he is constantly chatting up his girl classmates. He has several “dates” almost every week, and by his own account most of the dates include some form of sexual activity (although usually stopping short of intercourse). There have been many allegations that his conduct during dates is aggressive. The aggression mostly takes the form of verbal insistence.

His size alone is intimidating. Some girls report feeling physically constrained. There are no reports of physical threats or physical violence, and no girl has pressed criminal charges. These factors seem to matter to Terence J. They may be material in a court of law if the issue is whether Terence J raped any of these girls. From the standpoint of the PDP administrators, however, ALL sexual attentions pressed in an atmosphere of intimidation are improper. There are signs in the interview that Terence J himself has gradually come to this realization. Whether and how he will act on this realization is uncertain.

The complexity of the problem is also evident when we consider the findings reported by the school officials, who conducted confidential interviews with sexually active girls in the school, many of whom had dated Terence J. The report finds that these girls discussed among themselves which boys were available, which of the boys were good in bed, and which were easy “lays,” that is, readily seduced. (These discussions among girls seem much like the discussions regarding girls that boys were having among themselves!) Frequently, a girl who had tired of a particular boy would arrange to “hand him off” to an interested girl. Sometimes, the boy would accept his dismissal quietly; sometimes, especially if the dating had included intercourse, a “misunderstanding” would ensue.

What do these interviews say to us? They do not say that the victims of sexual abuse are somehow to blame. Instead, they suggest that consent should not be a taboo subject before or during a date. Moreover, they suggest that discussion of limits should not be a “turn-off” but rather is one of the keys to a good date (and good sex, if that’s what the partners decide on).

4. Second Reformulation of Puericil: Testosterone Reversal [Puericil/TR]

The results of the Puericil Disciplinary Program, when using Puericil augmented by puberty blocker, were good overall. In particular, for boys whose age at the start of Puericil/PB treatment was 14 or less, more than 90% of the boys made remarkable progress: Academic performance, social behavior, and sexual adjustment all improved. On the other hand, for boys who entered the PDP much beyond their 14th birthday, or younger if puberty was well-advanced, the results were mixed. Improvements generally occurred, but they were not as dramatic, and sometimes diminished over time. Though rare, a few boys lapsed into their old patterns after leaving the PDP.

Reviewing these results, the administrators confirmed the effectiveness of Puericil/PB, while acknowledging the potential for further improvements. In particular, the administrators confirmed that the effect of the original Puericil in desensitizing hair follicles to testosterone was essential to the PDP strategy.

Despite evidence that many boys adjusted sooner or later to their lack of body hair, the steady encroachment of baldness always affected the boys dramatically. Boys who had grown body hair experienced its loss as a diminution of their masculinity; boys who had not yet grown body hair fell further behind their peers, which they likewise experienced as a diminution of masculinity. In both cases, boys felt weaker, which is very desirable for the PDP. and they also felt relieved at no longer having the need (or even ability) to demonstrate their manliness in the locker room.

Testosterone plays a critical part in the development of toxic masculinity. The original Puericil attacked one of the first manifestations of testosterone, i.e., growth of whiskers and body hair. As reformulated, Puericil indirectly shut down testosterone production and blocked receptor cells from reacting to residual testosterone. Could Puericil/PB be further enhanced to combat testosterone effects, and if so how? There was general agreement that these were the key issues in reaching those older boys (or boys further into puberty) who so far had proved relatively resistant to the PDP.

The “resistant” boys were generally characterized by being taller and more physically developed, and having further into puberty, compared to those boys who flourished under the PDP. Moreover, because “resistant” boys enter the PDP relatively late, Puericil/PB had less time to counter these characteristics. For example, many of the “resistant” boys had already grown to adult proportions, so the prevention of further growth during the PDP would hardly be noticeable. Perhaps as important, the toxic masculinity from which these boys suffered had become entrenched, particularly as compared to pre-pubertal boys from 10-13 years of age.

In a series of discussions, a consensus developed that victory in the fight against toxic masculinity required a new, two-fold strategy. First, prophylactic administration of Puericil/PB to at-risk boys should be encouraged, even before delinquent behavior emerges. Second, further research should be conducted into the possibility of reversing the effects of testosterone in those older boys where toxic masculinity is manifest. Fortunately, science has provided the means for implementing a testosterone-reversal strategy.

The testosterone-reversal strategy is unrelated to the slight feminization that sometimes occurs as a side-effect to the puberty blocker. (This side-effect, as noted and explained in the case history of Danny T, is due to the temporary predominance of female hormone.) Some PDP proponents do advocate for forced feminization, at least in some instances, but forced feminization was deemed excessive and impractical for most “resistant” boys.

Instead, Puericil has been again re-formulated to accomplish testosterone reversal through adaptation of an auto-immune mechanism originally developed during cancer research. With cancer, the mechanism triggers the body’s auto-immune response to attack rapidly dividing cells—in other words, the cancer tumor. With pubescent boys, the mechanism is similar, except that the auto-immune response is to the body’s newly active testosterone-producing tissues and to the cell growth prompted by testosterone.

The difference between the puberty blocker and testosterone reversal is simply stated. A puberty blocker pauses the boy’s progress towards adult masculinity—he doesn’t grow or get more muscles or become hairy. With testosterone reversal, the boy loses whatever muscle he has developed since puberty, and his genitals shrink. (In common speech, testosterone reversal is now often referred to as regression therapy, since the treated boy quickly seems to become several years younger than his chronological age.)

To be clear, testosterone reversal does not affect hard tissue. The boy’s skeletal structure is fixed at whatever stage it has reached when testosterone reversal treatment is started, and the boy will not lose height. The deepening of a boy’s voice after puberty is also not affected. However, all of the boy’s soft tissues are affected to the extent their growth is positively correlated with testosterone level in the boy.

After approval of Puericil/TR, it is the PDP regimen of choice for all boys entering the program at age 14 or older, and for younger boys who have started puberty. (Testosterone level is the main indicator for puberty; additional factors may be considered on an individual basis.) Other boys entering the PDP (all of whom would be pre-pubescent and less than 14 years old) receive Puericil/PB. As these other boys become older, Puericil/PB may be tapered off to allow puberty to begin but will be supplemented by Puericil/TR to regulate the boy’s rate of physical maturation.

Clinical Considerations: Puericil/PB and Puericil/TR are easily tolerated medications. Allergic reactions, drug interactions, and toxicity are rare, all well below the level of placebos when administered in double blind testing.

The physical effects of Puericil/PB treatment are fully reversible. That is, when treatment stops, puberty ensues (or resumes) and follows its expected course. The same is not true of Puericil/TR treatment. Because Puericil/TR will cause certain tissues and cell formations to shrink or disappear altogether, some physical effects of the treatment will persist, in some cases permanently. The following summary of these effects assumes 2 to 3 years of treatment, which is typical for patients receiving this medication.

Among the permanent effects are those on hair growth. Within two years, Puericil/TR eliminates the follicles from which body hair and whiskers grow. Thus, the faces and bodies of these patients will be permanently smooth. On the other hand, these patients will never suffer from male pattern baldness; they will retain a full head of hair into old age.

Among the more transitory effects are those on musculature and fertility, both of which recover to a considerable extent after treatment stops. These patients may expect to eventually gain muscles and fertility that would be typical of 15 or 16-year-old boys.

The effects on genital development, in terms of size and volume, fall between the two extremes. The penis and testicles, which may become toddler-like during treatment, generally recover to a modest extent, but in no event do they grow beyond what might be expected in a pre-pubertal boy of 12. For example, a final penis size of 2 inches would be considered large, while the great majority of patients wind up at 1.5 inches or less.

All of the effects of Puericil/TR treatment may be moderated if treatment is of shorter duration or at a reduced dosage. Treatment at higher dosages or of more than four years’ duration is counter-indicated as it usually results in chemical castration.

In conclusion, puberty in the human male may best be considered a pathological condition that affects boys between childhood and adulthood. The condition may be more or less severe, and some boys get through it with only mild symptoms. For many boys, it is a nightmare. Fortunately, Science now has enabled us to go beyond the original aims of the Puericil Disciplinary Program. The various refinements to Puericil provide parents, doctors, teachers, and other caregivers with comprehensive puberty management [CPM] strategies that can be adapted to fit each boy’s needs and circumstances. The following case studies illustrate these CPM strategies in action.

Case Study No. 5: Mark M

Note: Mark M’s story is traumatic. The study sponsor wishes to emphasize that all persons participating in the study, including Mark M, did so voluntarily.

Q. How old were you when you started taking taking Puericil/TR?

A few months after I turned 15. It was exactly two weeks after I tried to kill myself.

Q. Please describe the circumstances that led to your enrollment in the PDP.

Oh jeez, I’d have to go back quite a ways. I was what they call an early bloomer. It about wrecked my life, but there was stuff going wrong even earlier.

I’m the oldest of three kids. I have a sister who’s two years younger and a brother who’s three years younger. I begged my folks for a little brother. Took ‘em a couple tries.

My mom quit her work when I was born, then stayed at home as long as we were little. We could have afforded day care; I don’t know why she decided against it. She seemed bored by housekeeping. After we were all in school, she went back to work.

I was expected to help out at home, and at first I didn’t mind. I was the oldest, it made sense. But then my brother and sister never did wanna help out. I did OK in school, but they were “gifted.” They were in all these classes for the super-bright, they had special projects, and sometimes they stayed late at school. I was resentful, although I still got along OK with them, especially with my little brother Trent, who was fine as long as you didn’t ask him to mow the lawn or set the table.

I could tell things were tense between Mom and Dad. She had to cook when she got home, so it was like she had two jobs. For some reason, she and my sister (that’s Meg) didn’t get along, and there were times when one or the other of us would get into mischief or there would be a squabble. Mom could never handle a situation. She’d arrive home tired, then tell Dad to discipline us. Some days, he would go to the three kids’ bedrooms in turn. Mostly he applied a hand or a slipper to our bottoms, rarely a belt, never with our pants down. We were all terrified of him. Afterwards Mom would feel guilty and play up to us.

Two things made it worse for me with Dad. First off, I was a pudgy kid. Not a blimp, but overweight for sure. Dad had been something of an athlete—he wrestled in college in one of the lighter weight divisions—and he kept getting on me to lose weight and exercise more. He got more aggravated when the puppy fat refused to disappear, and I even started to binge on sweets after puberty started. The other thing was my grades. As my sister and brother excelled in school, I slacked off. If I couldn’t compete with them, I wouldn’t try.

I didn’t have a lot of friends. I wasn’t a jock or a brain or one of the cool kids. I was kind of a slob. I wanted to fit in with some crowd, and the crowd I fit in with were misfit boys like myself who hung around, ate snacks, and talked about cars. I liked cars, we were a two-car family, and Dad liked cars too. He did his own maintenance, he read car mags, and the most quality time we ever spent together was under the hood of his Boxter.

In our state, kids can get their driver’s license at 14. My crowd all were driving as soon as we could pass the test. We were good drivers, but we drove recklessly. We went for joy rides, we raced the family Buicks. Somehow, I never had an accident or a ticket, but I did worse.

See, I was into puberty early. Jacking off at 10, when I had my first pubes. Even when I was 12, the peach fuzz was turning dark and coarse all over my body. Huge cock, especially compared to other boys at that age. Shaving at 13. By 15, shaving every day. I had an early growth spurt, then slowed down. I didn’t add height after I was 13, when I was 5’6” tall—same height as my father—and weighed180 lbs, give or take. Except for zits, I looked just like an adult. Dressed in one of Dad’s suits and wearing one of his hats, I passed for a man in his 20’s or even 30’s. So I would dress up, go into a car dealership, and get them to let me test-drive a car. I’d pick out a BMW or Mercedes, collect some of my gang who’d be waiting a few blocks away, and go for a spin.

I was dumb enough to go to the dealership where Dad bought his Boxter. One of the salesman there realized I wasn’t him. When I got home, Mom and Dad were waiting. I got an earful, and then Dad beat me like he hadn’t done in years, worse than he’d ever beaten me. To top it all, I’d just failed a math test the previous week. Trent came to my room to offer to help me with math. “Go away, you little shit,” I said to him. He went away in tears.

I hated myself. A couple days later, I was alone at home. I’d stayed away from school, claiming I had the runs. Mom and Dad were at work. I drew a hot bath and got in the tub. I slashed my left wrist with a kitchen knife. Not a deep cut; it hurt too bad, and I was bleeding like a pig. I gave up, wrapped a towel around my wrist and got myself to an emergency room.

The ER doctor looked at the wrist and looked at me. I could feel his contempt. He bandaged me up, then told me that there were people with real illnesses and real injuries, and he didn’t have time for my BS. Mom and Dad collected me at the hospital. I thought they’d be furious, but they weren’t. They were sadder than I’d ever seen them.

So there! How’s that for making a long story long?

Q. What was it like starting in the PDP?

A total makeover. Physical, mental. For me, the visible body changes were slower than the change in mindset. It’s hard to describe. I expected a big pity party, but that wasn’t it at all. My whole routine changed.

Q. Can you give us some specifics?

I got a lot of counseling, but it wasn’t “do this/do that.” We talked over what I wanted to change and how I might make those changes happen. Also, we talked about what had stopped me from making changes before everything came crashing down. Doing better in school? Start with better work habits. More consistency. Keeping up with assignments rather than binge study at end of term. Nothing heroic, just doable steps. Lots of small achievements.

Yeah, I wanted to be healthier and look better, so losing some weight and keeping it off seemed like a good idea. They told me it would be tough. Start with small steps. I surprised everybody, including myself. The Puericil probably helped a lot, but they assured me I did most of it on my own.

See, I had been eating six meals a day. Five of them were dessert; the sixth was pizza or pasta. Plus snacks. To drink, I mostly had soda pop. AND I WAS ALWAYS HUNGRY!

I went from that sugary diet to three big meals of meat or eggs or fish plus veggies. No snacks. I drink milk. After each meal, I feel full.

Q. Did you add exercise?

The only thing I added to gym was that now I walk between home and school, a little over two miles each way, instead of taking the bus. Doesn’t seem like much, but it turns out to be an extra hour+ of exercise five days a week. I got to liking it, so I go for walks on the weekends too. Usually one or more of the family goes with me.

In the first three months, I lost 45 pounds, to 135. I’m still losing a bit, but much more slowly. Now I’m down to 120.

Q. Back to mental changes, what were they like?

I think every Puericil kid I’ve talked to has felt the same thing that I did, which is that the mental buzzing quiets down, You’re able to hear stuff better, concentrate on what people are saying. It’s a very calming experience, but not at all deadening. Just the opposite.

Still, I was in terrible shape when I started on the PDP. I’d fucked up SO-O-O badly. When I got home from the hospital after my parents fetched me from the ER, we just held hands and cried. Mom and Dad looked at me. They told me they didn’t want me to die. I guess I didn’t want to die either, but I was scared to live.

At school, everyone knew I’d tried to kill myself. There was no announcement, but stuff gets around. People don’t usually have a big slash mark across one of their wrists. I had no enemies, but I had no real friends. I was the pudgy kid, a slob, and now a fuck-up. Pity was hard to take—I could see it in some faces. And I could see the ER doctor’s attitude in a lot of faces.

My first nude day was even worse than I imagined. I felt fat, the body hair was coming off in patches. Kids in middle school have zits on their face; I had them on my chest and back too. Between my legs was this big ugly shaggy dick.

Most Puericil boys talk about the intense humiliation of having their naked bodies stared at. My humiliation was different; it was the humiliation of having people turn away from my body in disgust.

But at the end of that first nude day, after my last class, which was biology, the teacher asked me to stay a few minutes. She was Beatrix Bixbee. Old DoubleB. A former weightlifter, with a body like a refrigerator.

She asked me how my day had been, and I told her. She said she knew something about body-shaming. She took my arms and held them so my wound was obvious. I looked down. I could see on her left wrist a faint scar, at about the same place as mine. Those people who are shaming you, she said, have power over you only because you let them. You always have choices, she said. Choose life.

And I…

Excuse me, gimme a few seconds…

Q. Do you want to stop?

No, no, I want to talk about this…

At that moment, I gave myself permission to live. I was an imperfect human, and that was OK. At dinner that night, I told my family that I would work hard to be a better son and brother. We had a group hug, then I told Trent I wanted to take him up on his offer to help me with math.

On my next nude day, I was slick as a porpoise. Whiskers and body hair all gone; my acne had cleared up entirely. Each nude day after that, my weight loss was more and more obvious.

I was turning in my homework on time, I participated in class, I aced some tests. The chip fell off my shoulder. Kids were including me in groups, then girls and boys approached me singly, and they weren’t the doofuses that I used to hang out with.

At home, I was starting to cook some meals myself, and everyone was pitching in to help. My tutorials with Trent were a gas. I did learn some math, but as I got caught up with class, we mostly spent an hour yakking and giggling. There was a time when we used to be best friends, in between our quarrels. Now, we didn’t find much to quarrel about. Sometimes we joined Dad under the hood of his Boxter.

Q. Sounds Nice! Any dating?

You know, there had never been any dating. Before the PDP, my sex life consisted of solitary wanking and a few mutual jack-offs. That changed. I liked the way I was looking. My complexion was like, you know, pre-adolescent. Peaches and cream. My body was nice, slim but not scrawny. My dick was not huge but still average. I had a lot to smile about.

My sister Meg’s friends, who are a year younger than me, saw me at home and told her they thought I was hot. Gradually, I realized that girls my own age were coming on to me. Yup, there were dates. I was tentative, but the girls were eager. They’d heard that Puericil boys shot blanks. I thought they were probably right; I saw that my cum was increasingly clear and watery. I soon lost my virginity, and I was an easy lay. Pretty much any girl that wanted me could have me.

And pretty much any boy could have me too. I wasn’t too surprised at this: I’d found myself attracted to lots of boys at the “Y” and in the gym at school. I wasn’t particular; I liked a nice face and a smooth body. I also preferred small dicks, I guess because I thought my big one was so ugly. I hadn’t done much about this attraction; certainly I hadn’t talked to anyone about it, and I didn’t consider myself gay. I figured that jacking off with another boy was what most boys were doing in early puberty. It didn’t mean anything.

Then I myself became a boy with a nice face and a smooth body and a dick that was becoming boy-sized. In the showers after gym, guys were copping a feel, so I let my hand wander too. We’d get to chatting as we dressed. One or another of us would have a house to himself after school. Two of us, sometimes more, would go over for fucking and sucking. Nothing romantic, just good dirty fun.

At home, things returned to something like normal, instead of everyone being on their best behavior, as if I might fall down and break at any moment. My parents and Meg relaxed, but my brother Trent and I got very tight. Like I said, we’d been “besties” up until he was 6 or 7, at least when we weren’t fighting. Now we were closer than ever, and I realized the age difference had shrunk. Not really of course; there were three years between us still, and yet we’d both entered those tween years of early adolescence. We were talking and joking with each other as equals, and there was a feeling of intimacy. Just seeing him made me happy. We had a lot of physical closeness too. Wrestling, hugging, playful pinches, tickling. Trent was super-ticklish, I could always reduce him to helpless laughter.

Q. Was there physical attraction between you and Trent?

I’m getting to that! One night late, I hear a tap on my door. “Hey, if you’re done wanking, can I come in?” Trent used to crawl into my bed when he was little, until puberty got between us and I became a nut case. Before then, I’d do imitations of the teachers that I used to have and he had now. He’d laugh and I’d tickle him so he laughed harder. Finally, Mom or Dad would come to my bedroom and yell at us to shut up and go to sleep. But all of that was at least 7 or 8 years ago.

I said he should come on in, he’s just in time, he can lick the juice off my dick. So Trent crawls under the covers with me. “I got something to tell you. Please don’t hate me, but I think I’m gay.” I tell him that’s horrible, disgusting—and incidentally I’m bi. We talk this stuff over, very worldly guys, as if we’d known all along, blah, blah, blah. Then Trent tells me he’s pretty sure Meg likes girls. Which means, he says, that our family covers all the bases, because Mom loves her job and Dad loves his cars. And Trent is so happy that I’m bi, because he didn’t want to be the only one in our family that likes boys.

By this time, I’m laughing out loud, and I just want to hug this sweet kid, so I hug him and tell him he’s weird and give him a little peck on the cheek. He goes me one better, he kisses me full on the lips.

We lie in bed together, we’re smiling at each other, I’m stroking his cheek, and all of a sudden it hits me that he’s 13, at an age when I was shaving already, yet he’s showing no signs of puberty. His cheek is smooth, his complexion is pink and white. He’s much shorter than I was at that age. I hadn’t seen him in the shower, but I had noticed that when he’d worn shorts, his legs were hairless. So I ask how come he hadn’t turned into a hairy ape like I had when I was even younger than he was now. Was he a late-bloomer? And he says, “Mark, you aren’t the only Puericil boy in this family.”

I was astonished, then delighted, then upset. Why didn’t he tell me long before now? If his idea was to go on Puericil just to be supportive, it was a mistake! Trent smiled—there was no mistake. He’d seen that puberty had been very rough for lots of kids, not just me. He didn’t like what puberty did to boys’ bodies. He saw his own first pubes just before his 12th birthday, and he panicked. What he did was not for me but for himself.

I assumed on the basis of his age that he went on Puericil/PB? Oh no, they’d checked his testosterone level, which was fairly high, and then, considering our family history of early bloomers, they prescribed the drug he asked for—Puericil/TR!

That’s right, it was his decision! I saw that Trent was both the youngest and the most mature person in our family. He was also the cutest, which I had somehow failed to notice. I drew him to me and kissed him, then we necked for a long time. Finally I whispered into his ear what I wanted to do. He nodded.

In my family we wear pajamas. In cool weather, nice cotton flannel jammies. Trent and I mirrored each other as each of us slowly unbuttoned his soft flannel top and slid it off his shoulders. The top button of our flies came next, and the pants slipped from our slender hips to the floor. We gazed at each other’s bodies; it must have been about a year into our Puericil/TR treatment that we did this strip tease for our viewing pleasure.

Aside from my total smoothness, I was not so different from other boys my age, which was a few months into my 16th year. My weight loss had continued; I was now on the slim side. My muscle tone had diminished but not yet disappeared. My once over-sized dick was just less than average. I still had orgasms, although my cum was watery. Some people told me I was beautiful. Trent was one of them.

Trent looked completely different, compared to me. When we started on Puericil/TR, I’d been pubescent for at least four years, while Trent’s puberty had barely begun. For me, there was a LOT for the drug to regress; for Trent, there was almost nothing.

To my eye, the boy in front of me was almost magical; I half-expected him to fly out of my bedroom window and return to Neverland. Nothing about him suggested puberty. He could have been 10, or 9 even. His body was slender but soft and slightly rounded, with a hint of baby fat. Even in the dim light, I could see the pink of his complexion, the white of his perfect smile. He took a step forward, I took him in my arms and caressed him all over, then kissed him everywhere. As my lips followed his curves, I got a close look at what, in a museum, a fig leaf would cover. A very small fig leaf. The dickie looked like my little finger, certainly no thicker and maybe slightly shorter.

Trent giggled. “What do you think of my peepee?” I cleared my throat pompously. “To be honest, it’s a bit large,” I told him, “but you have time yet.”

Of course he punched me, I tackled him, and we had sex. In case you’re wondering, Trent was ecstatic when I licked the head of his dick, and later when I rimmed him. I noticed the same thing for me: Puericil leaves your pleasure centers on all the way.

Q. So you and Trent became lovers. How long did your affair last? Or are you still lovers?

We decided that same night that our fling was a one-off. He still comes to my bed a lot, and we love to cuddle and spoon and laugh. Sometimes, Mom or Dad still has to come to my room to ask us to quiet down (“for God’s sake, does no one sleep in this household?”). We’re still besties but no sex.

It’s a little hard to explain. Being besties is one thing, but for us to be lovers would be like binding Trent and me at the hip.

Q. Does Trent agree?

Yes. The way he put it, he said we want to join the world, not withdraw from it. Which is pretty much what I was trying to say.

Comment on Case Study No. 5:

Critics of Puericil/PB and Puericil/TR object that puberty is a natural part of life, something that (aside from accidents or disease) all boys go through. We agree that puberty is natural. So are accidents and disease. It is “natural” to try to avoid the adverse effects of these phenomena.

Nature is not so benign as the romantics tell us. For example, aging is also “natural,” and the maturity of age brings many benefits. Nevertheless, humanity has always struggled against decay and death, which are the inevitable products of aging.

We also acknowledge that humanity’s efforts to shape or counteract “nature” have had mixed results, such as unintended impacts on the environment. Always, we must consider both the ill to be avoided and the means by which we hope to avoid it.

Case Study No. 5 shows how Puericil/TR, in conjunction with the other components of CPM, can not only alleviate pain but actually save a life. Without drastic intervention, the prognosis for Mark M would have been poor. Sadly, Mark M’s issues are shockingly common. Something like 1/3 of the boys in the PDP have experienced life-threatening behaviors, such as self-harm, attempted suicide, and severe withdrawal. These boys are commonly enmeshed in a vicious circle of body issues, low self-esteem, and social rejection.

We emphasize that medication, though important, would probably not have enabled Mark M to break through his vicious circle. Changes in his diet and exercise, plus the support of his family and teachers, combined to help him overcome his problems.

As seen in this and other case studies, Puericil treatment is commonly accompanied by an outpouring of sensual and sexual exploration. Such exploration is also common in adolescent males who are not taking Puericil. The fact that it has been particularly noticeable in Puericil boys is not surprising, considering that most of these boys were relatively withdrawn and repressed in their sex lives before starting treatment.

The PDP is neutral on the incest taboo insofar as it is a matter of morality. In general, however, incest is a concern: The combining of physical and emotional dependencies has a strong potential for complicating the resolution of the intra-family conflicts that usually originate a boy’s maladjustment. Resolution of such conflicts is deemed critical for the boy’s ability to establish and maintain good relationships outside the family. Conversely, a boy with unresolved family conflicts is likely to mirror those conflicts in his later relationships with friends and lovers.

In the case of Mark and Trent, having sex with each other seems understandable, given both the revival of the intense friendship they had before puberty, and their bonding as Puericil boys. They also made a sensible decision to remain “besties” rather than lovers, as both boys recognize that they will need to look outside the family-of-origin for their adult relationships.

Case Study No. 6: Ben S

Q. Please describe how you came to be enrolled in the Puericil Disciplinary Program.

I was relatively old. I’d already turned 17. They’d been raising the age limit. It used to be that 15 was the cut-off.

People were surprised at what happened with me. I got good grades. I was on the debate team, I played chess, very nerdy. And I’d kept my nose pretty clean until high school. I dated nice girls and got them home at the time we’d promised. Of course everyone was smoking pot. Then someone would turn up at a party with fancier recreational drugs. I knew it was a dumb thing to start taking; we hardly knew what the shit was. But, you know, you do what everyone else is doing. The alcohol was also flowing freely.

Pretty soon, I’m selling stuff myself. I figured I’d have my own stash; plus, I could make a little money on the side. It’s a slippery slope. I started pushing at school, getting high myself at lunch. I didn’t think I was addicted, until I found I couldn’t do without. I knew I was in trouble.

I guess I was what is known as a high-functioning mess. I still showed up in class and managed to answer when I was called upon. Half the time, when school let out, I couldn’t remember anything that happened during the day. One day, collecting my jacket to catch the bus home, I fell face first into my locker… I turned myself in.

Q. Did you agree that the PDP was right for you?

Not when it was first proposed. Of course, I wanted to stay out of the juvenile justice system, and I was ready to accept just about any alternative. But this whole age regression thing—I mean, what’s the point? Well, the point was, my behavior was immature. I so wanted to fit in, to be popular. Or to put it differently, not to be despised by the cool kids. I planned my life with those goals in mind. That’s a pretty half-assed way to grow up. As was explained to me, Puericil/TR lets you re-think some of those decisions. It puts you in a new skin, literally.

Q. How were your first few weeks after starting Puericil/TR?

I was already in the detox program, so I was no longer walking around in a daze. The Puericil hit me like a ton of bricks. I saw myself as childish even before the physical effects took hold. They weren’t long in coming.

There’s nothing special about my looks overall. I’m just under 6’ tall. My weight is normal. I was never into sports, but I have a good enough body. Pleasant, boy-next-door face, at least when I’m wearing my contacts. I’d been shaving for a year or two. I had a good bush in my crotch and pits; my legs were quite hairy, and I noticed some fuzz around my nipples. All normal for 17. My cock stood out—or rather it didn’t. I was always small-hung, and when I hit puberty my cock got thicker but not longer. When I started on Puericil/TR, I was still only about 2.5” soft, which meant that my dick was pretty much buried in my pubes when I wasn’t erect.

Every boy on Puericil has weekly nude days, unless he’s taking it as a prophylactic or has some sort of exemption. So I had weekly nude days, and they humiliated me more than I ever imagined they would. My body hair and beard took about a month to disappear, and the increasing baldness made me feel that I was going back to childhood in front of everyone’s eyes. My dick was becoming more visible at the same time that it was slowly shrinking.

I felt my world was collapsing. I’d always sucked up to the cool kids, who now had no use for me. Some of those kids had bought my drugs, but there’s no shortage of pushers around. Naturally I had to keep my mouth shut. The high achievers from the debate team and the chess club were no kinder than the cool kids. I still did my classwork, but even the teachers had soured on me.

Q. What about your family?

I figured you’d get around to asking.

Q. Don’t answer if you don’t want to.

I don’t want to answer, but I feel I must. Besides my parents, I have two sisters. They’re 17-18 years older than me. Both married and long since gone from the house. They’re more like aunts; I see them at holidays.

I was born when my parents were middle-aged. Now my father is into his sixties, and my mom is pushing 60. I got to wondering, so a few years ago I asked my mother: Was I a mistake? She said, no, of course not. Then she added that I was their last-ditch effort to have a son. I didn’t feel reassured.

My father always wears a white shirt and tie, even around the house, even on week-ends. The thought that I might play a game or sports with my father never occurred to me. When I was small, my mother sometimes took me to the lake to swim, or to ice-skate when it froze over. I don’t remember her ever swimming or skating herself. I didn’t know any kids, at least no one I remember now.

When I first started going to school, I turned into this low-maintenance, no-worry child. I was smart, I did fine in my classes, I “played well with others.” At 15, when I started hitting the booze and shit, I hid it well. Or maybe my parents just didn’t notice. They said they suspected nothing, but when I hit the wall, it was like I’d personally offended them. My father wouldn’t speak to me; my mother told me I should be grateful that they didn’t throw me out.

Q. Did you have no support system at all? The PDP is supposed to provide services to help Puericil boys adjust.

What turned things around for me was the support I got from other Puericil boys!

When I was enrolled, the PDP had been around for several years. The administrators had this idea that Puericil boys could actually help each other out: Compare notes, keep tabs on what was happening, give feedback, provide shoulders to lean on and pep talks when needed.

Back in the day when they were first experimenting with these groups, there were formal sessions with a facilitator, but when I started, a facilitator would attend only for a session or two periodically; mostly, the group kind of ran itself. My school was grades 7 to 12, so we had kids in my group over a wide age range. At the young end, we had an 11 year-old; at the other end was … me! For what seemed like a long time, I was both the oldest in age and also the newest kid in the group.

Everyone was so different. For example, besides me, only two kids had serious drug problems. There were other kinds of addiction, however. Plus, bullying. Sexual harassment. Theft—not always petty theft, either. Not to mention the differences in background. We had to listen to each other carefully in order to understand, to empathize. And others held a mirror up to me, so I came to know myself better.

Q. I understand that the group sessions were mostly naked?

That’s right, and it was a decision by the group, not by the facilitator. If a new kid was joining, we’d have a couple sessions with our clothes on, then ask him whether he would be comfortable if we undressed. The kid would agree, sometimes a little reluctantly, but always before the session was half over, he’d be nude too.

Q. Why do you think that was?

Oh gosh, for me it just makes so much sense, but I can speak only for myself.

Here I am, in my new skin, I WANT to show myself to you. And I want to see you too. We all of us look really beautiful!

Sounds gay, I know. How many of us were gay or bi? I’d say, no more than in any other group of boys. I happen to be straight, but that didn’t stop me from hugging others in the group, and kissing some who were my particular friends. I had missed out on that kind of comradeship; now I experienced it, and I loved it. I loved being touched; I loved knowing that others thought I was beautiful. I loved being naked. One of us had a hot tub at his family home; we got in the habit of going there on a Saturday or Sunday most weekends, just for the pleasure of soaking, then showering together.

Q. Was there any group sex?

No, and that was a group decision too. We wanted sex to be intimate, and we didn’t want anyone to feel pressured into having sex. Lots of boys did pair off for sex, however, and caressing was something that friends could always do with each other. Billy, who’s the 11 year-old I mentioned, we bonded even though neither of us is gay. He had the cutest little bubble butt and loved to have me grab it when we hugged and brush my fingers over the cleavage of his buns. I loved his tushie; I was happy to oblige. He spent many of our naked sessions on my lap cuddling with me. We’re both dating women now, but we still kiss every time we run into each other.

Q. Going back to knowing yourself better, could you be more specific?

As you can imagine, much of what we had to say to each other was about how we came to be in the PDP, so far as we could understand. Just like with me, many boys were more or less in a haze when we got into trouble. And just like in this interview, we talked about the things that troubled us or puzzled us.

Kids asked each other questions, and those questions could bring up deep feelings. The group sessions could become very emotional.

I told my story, and there was a pause. Eventually, somebody asked something about my parents, and I got very defensive. Sure, my parents were interested in me, they always checked my report card. That’s all? Well, you need to know that my parents are much much older than me. Why does their age matter? Well, my parents really aren't very feely-touchy. How feely-touchy is it to ask your kid how he’s doing?

I could feel myself getting upset, then something broke inside me and I was crying. Then I lost it altogether, I was sobbing and shaking. I felt a terrible pain in my throat, as if the words I’d spoken were tearing me apart.

The pain was not only about my parents not loving me, or about my so-called friends not giving a shit about me. I too was a phony. I was a “pleaser,” but did I really care about my family or friends? I did not receive love, but neither was I loving. That was the naked truth.

With this realization, I was both sad and relieved.

Q. How were you relieved?

I could get on with my life. I no longer had to prove myself to people who really didn't care one way or another.

Q. So, how were you able to move on?

It was surprisingly easy. Once I was comfortable in my own skin, when I stopped being anxious over everything I said, when I could relax, people began to open up to me. They too could relax and stop worrying I was on the brink of a nervous breakdown. Maybe I was closer to the brink than I knew, but those sessions with other Puericil boys pulled me back.

I guess you know that there are women who have a ‘thing’ for Puericil boys. The fact that none of us was hairy or brawny caused many women to think Puericil boys are free of macho BS. I can say that’s not always true; in fact, many Puericil boys were sexual harassers. However, the drug did seem to let us dial back that kind of behavior. The drug also drastically reduces the danger of unwanted pregnancy, and that sense of security probably makes some girls willing to be a little friskier.

Whatever the reason, many girls in my class took the lead in making me welcome. There were parties and dates. Puericil didn’t affect my potency; because I was enrolled in the PDP so late in puberty, the drug would take two years or more before it would affect my ability to perform. Miraculously, I got over the embarrassment of having a tiny dick. First off, the girls expected it; if it bothered them, they wouldn’t have dated me. Second, I had always been a ‘grower,’ not a shower. The main shock was losing my pubes; after that I was fine.

Q. What is your current situation, after more than three years since you were enrolled in the PDP?

I graduated high school (with honors!), and the administrators released me from the PDP after only about a year in the program. I got into college, at my father’s alma mater. I’m once again low-maintenance from my parents’ point-of-view. We’re on speaking terms, which is really all we ever were.

I feel great. I know who I am, and who my friends are. I still go to the PDP boys’ hot-tub parties. Hair? Well, I now have a few wispies, but I get my whole body waxed whenever I see stubble. I’ve told Billy I won’t allow myself pubes until he does. He says that’ll be never.

Comment on Case Study No. 6:

Many Puericil boys were gang members. Ben S, in contrast, sought comrades among social and intellectual cliques. Neither the gangs nor the cliques provided true companionship. A welcome surprise in the PDP is that many of the Puericil boys have thrived in each other’s company, finding both affirmation and emotional connection.

Looking at the case of Ben S in particular, his bonds with Puericil boys supplied things that seemingly were missing from his life. In Billy, he found a younger brother whom he cherishes, and who looks up to him. In the broader group, he found what many youths experience in common activities for pre-pubertal boys, such as the scout movement or summer camps for boys: A homosocial environment outside the family, where boys play, work, and interact in a common enterprise. (It is noteworthy that Ben S did not participate in scouting or go to summer camp.)

Such homosocial environments permit physical closeness that may or may not include sexual activity. Ben S and Billy identify as straight, but such identification does not necessarily explain their abstinence, since many “straight” boys engage in sexual experimentation at some stage. Instead, we suggest that for Ben S and Billy, the decision not to have sex seems to have validated the purity of their brotherly bond, without any underlying sexual agenda. In any case, the way that the Puericil group respects the limits of individuals shows remarkable sensitivity and maturity.

Ben’s parents are comfortably well off, and he suffered no physical abuse, but the history of his home-life shows extreme emotional deprivation. His father displays no almost no affect, and both parents show no understanding of Ben’s problems. Indeed, Ben likely was an unwanted child, the result, as he puts it, of a “mistake.” For a boy growing up in such a home, Ben’s emotional neediness comes as no surprise.

Case Study No. 7: Heath R

Q. At what age did you begin taking Puericil/TR?

Unfortunately, not until I was 18.

Q. Please explain.

My gender dysphoria wasn’t diagnosed until then. I’m not blaming anyone. Just saying a lot of suffering could have been avoided.

Q. Could you say some more about your gender dysphoria?

Seems like I talk about it all the time. Can we talk about something else?

[Long pause]

I think everything went haywire when I hit puberty. Before then, I was a happy friendly kid. I remember getting along with everyone. Boys, girls, my parents. Then my pubes grew, my cock got bigger, and I lost my mind. I was always pissed off about something or someone.

Q. Do you wish you’d started taking Puericil back then?

Back then, it wasn’t an option. I mean, you weren’t placed in the PDP just for being a jerk. What adolescent boy isn’t cranky most of the time? If crankiness qualified, every 13 year-old boy would be on Puericil. Come to think of it, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

Q. Let’s go back to the present then. According to the records, you’re taking Puericil/TR for strictly therapeutic reasons, not for any kind of misconduct. Is that correct?

I’m sorry, but these labels mean nothing to me. Can I just tell my story in my own words?

Q. Please do!

OK. To cut to the chase, a lot of people have been trying to fit me into a box rather than trying to understand me. I’m not surprised because it’s taken me a long time to understand myself. Maybe you’ll see what I mean.

From as far back as I can remember, I was equally happy playing with boys or girls. I also liked to wear anything that looked good to me. If I liked a dress, why couldn’t I wear it? I’ve got two arms, two legs, a head; so do girls; so why should we dress differently? I knew I had something between my legs that girls didn’t, but it wasn’t so big that I couldn’t fit it into a pair of panties. So what if it made a bulge?

My mom and dad were fine with this cross-dressing, which was not a full-time thing anyway. They’re quite modern; they let me dress in my sister’s hand-me-downs, as long as it made me happy. They told me that my tastes might change, or maybe they wouldn’t change, but either way it’s nothing to worry about. I’m grateful that they have always stuck up for me with other parents, the school, and so on.

I was NOT trying to be feminine. I didn’t lisp or wear my hair in curls, but I didn’t try to be masculine either. I liked playing house; I also liked playing baseball. When people said I had to do one or the other, I was puzzled. Why not do both? It still puzzles me.

When the school shrink asked me if I felt I was a girl born in a boy’s body, I said, no of course not. Therefore, no gender dysphoria, according to the shrink. The shrink might have asked me whether I felt I was a boy born in a boy’s body; I would have said no to that too! I’m human. I have a body.

As a kid, I thought I had a really nice body, and I was happy to show it off. There were plenty of opportunities. I was in cub scouts and boy scouts and went off to summer camp. At school, there was gym class, with the locker room and the showers. These were all-boy affairs. I looked at other boys and saw that many of them had really nice bodies too. I made friends among boys my age. These friendships could be warm and tender. We’d go camping and have sleepovers, and we’d get naked and hug each other. We might get stiffies and rub ourselves to a dry cum, or we might not even touch other down there. Sex wasn’t the goal; the goal was closeness.

Puberty changed all that, for me and my friends both. We became very self-conscious. Is he “coming on” to me? Do I hug him back? What if he’s not coming on to me, what if he just wants to get a rise out of me? Is what we’re doing GAY? What if it is? What if we are? We started hiding from each other and from ourselves.

Suddenly, the middle-school locker room filled up with snide comments about cocksucking and asslicking. At that point, I’d done neither of these things, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I didn’t understand why the things that I knew I did want, like hugging, somehow made me one of these terrible cocksuckers and asslickers.

Along with those comments were equally upsetting jokes about boobs and pussies. Then more crap: How anxious we all were to get a piece of tail. Who had actually managed to get to which base with which girls. We told stupid jokes and felt that we had to laugh at them. We told each other obvious lies.

We also became ashamed of our bodies. There was always a reason for shame. Size or the lack of it. Hair or the lack of it. The dandruff; the ear wax; the smells. The zits that turned up almost anywhere, and we picked at them and they got infected.

I was frustrated, scared, and humiliated. Nothing I’d been through before was remotely like this. Welcome to puberty.

Q. Were you personally stigmatized as one of those “terrible cocksuckers and asslickers”?

No, no, no. See, everyone was calling everyone else by those names and other names of the same type. No one would admit to being one of those people, especially if you’d actually done stuff.

Middle school boys got only four things to talk about. How dumb their parents are. How dumb their teachers are. How bored they are. And how horny they are. That’s all. Press the shuffle button. Actually, back then, I fit right in.

Of course, I was awful to my family. My sister, who’s a lot older than I am and remembered what middle school boys were like, just rolled her eyes. My poor parents were concerned and tried to be understanding. Recalling the ‘girly’ things I used to do, they thought I might be gay. They took me to a gay shrink. Whaddya know? He decides I’m gay.

I wasn’t so sure. I found adolescent boys, including me, pretty repulsive. I wasn’t interested in ‘daddies’ or jocks. Boy bands didn’t appeal to me. I admitted to the shrink that I’d licked the head of a dick several times, but I couldn’t get it in my mouth very far without gagging. I particularly didn’t want a Big Black Cock, or any size or color cock, up my ass.

The shrink told me I had internalized homophobia. My parents left a book called “Anal Pleasure and Health” on my nightstand. The book was good, but it didn’t make me any more keen to get screwed.

Q, Did you decide that you were NOT gay?

I thought that gay was as good a description of me as any, but it never felt right. I got some comfort out of seeing that most of the boys my age were weirded out in one way or another. By the time I got to high school, I had calmed down a little. In high school, there was this LGBTQ club called Queertopia. I figured what-the-hell and went.

The club was anything but free sex. I found a lot of people like me. Mostly, they were drawn to the same sex, but they felt way out of sync with any stereotypical same-sex behavior.

In the club, I definitely shed the notion that I might be bisexual. I’d been telling myself that I liked boyish girls and girlish boys. Then a pair of nice lesbians sat down with me and told me about the vagina. About vagina anatomy. About what happens in there during sex, and what it smells like. That was scary. The fact that babies emerge between shit and piss kinda took the poetry out of birth.

Then they told me what women must do to have that smooth bikini line. I was shocked to learn that adult women become just about as hairy between the legs as adult men. “So,” they said, “you ready to eat pussy yet? Real men love to eat pussy.” I felt like barfing.

Of course I know that sex of any kind is with real bodies; it’s always going to be messy. To my way of thinking, that’s another reason to be choosy. Sex should be with a partner whose body attracts you and whose personality you like. So I decided for myself that I would NOT have sex simply in order to get laid.

Q. Did you have sex in high school?

I had some, maybe more than most, and mostly it was the wrong kind, just to get laid. I told myself that mistakes are also a learning experience.

I kept thinking back to my life before puberty. It seemed easy to make friends then, and the question of whether I was going to have sex with somebody didn’t come up. We often did touch each other, and that was cool, but we didn’t have to, and no one got pissed off. Puberty turned that around. Now the tail was wagging the dog.

I’d heard about Puericil/TR when I was a senior in high school, and I wondered what the experience would be like to wind back my body’s clock. I would be same person, with whatever I’d learned since puberty, but maybe with my testosterone in check, I could … start making sense.

Meanwhile, like most kids, I’d discovered the wonders of porn on the Internet. Like I already said, most of the gay porn does nothing for me, but one site turned out to be different. The images there are all digital, and some of the artists really seem to speak to me. They show boyhood on the brink of puberty, maybe 10-14, and they understand that age in a way I can relate to.

One artist is named Bastian. He has long wonderful stories with intricate plots. Another artist is named Lammegeier; his best stuff is very short, only a dozen images or even less. Both these artists capture a feeling. Their boys are comrades first and above all else. In Bastian’s stories, there is sex, and yes, sometimes it’s casual sex. For the main characters, however, romance comes before sex.

Lammergeier’s boys do not have sex, but their relationship is even more romantic. You see his boys in bed or on the beach or before the fireplace. Their arms are around each other, and they are simply happy to be together. In the moment, they’re sensual and sexy.

The boys of Bastian and Lammergeier are intensely physical in their relations with each other, even without sex. They run and jump and swim. They hug, they cuddle, they play tickle games. They are always touching, finding excuses to touch. I read these stories and snippets, and I thought to myself, THIS is for me, this is what I want.

Q. Do you consider yourself a pedophile?

Can we please just try to get away from labels for a while? What I just said is that I want comradeship before sex, or even without sex, and that’s something I haven’t experienced except before puberty. I think that’s very different from saying I want comradeship and sex from pre-pubescent boys.

I’m no goody-goody, I’m just being real. Tweens are not relationship material, not for adults. I know I myself wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship when I was a tween boy! The things I want now, I’ll have to find in another adult.

In fact, I’m most attracted to smooth bodies, and I prefer small-to-average sized cocks. Yup, boy-like for sure, but there are grown men who have that type of body. I now have that type of body myself, thanks to Puericil/TR. Many of the guys in Queertopia are also on Puericil/TR, or are seriously thinking about it. What remains to find out is whether we’ll be able to achieve our romantic ideal as well as our physical ideal.

Comment on Case Study No. 7:

Heath R as an adolescent did not get into trouble either legally or academically, yet he argues strongly for the prophylactic use of Puericil, in either of its later formulations. The case for prophylactic use is particularly strong for all non-binary individuals, and not only M-to-F transexuals. Puberty for such individuals has all the usual stress, compounded by well-intentioned pressure from many sources to fit into one or other off-the-shelf sexual identities.

In part, the future that Heath R sees for himself resembles the model of comrade-love described by 19th century gay pioneers such as Edward Carpenter and Walt Whitman. He rejects the classical model of Greek love, where an older man assumes a pedagogical role with a boy, trains the boy in the duties of manhood, and enjoys anal sex with the boy, who invariably is penetrated. [This kind of mentor/lover is found sometimes in Bastian’s stories, but the love between boy and boy seems to be the emotional core for Bastian, as it certainly is for Heath.]

Given Heath’s physical preferences and his recollection of happy pre-pubertal friendships, we might ask why he rejects pedophilia (apart from legal considerations)? Careful examination of Heath’s statements may give the answer: The relationships he had, and the relationships in his fantasies, are all within his peer group and never intergenerational.

From a strictly practical standpoint, a romantic relationship between a man and a boy in the 10-14 age group would be difficult to sustain. The boy will soon face the struggles of early puberty, which are much different from the issues of adulthood. Furthermore, the man in such a relationship will have to juggle two roles, as lover and as parent. Of course, there will be complex power dynamics in any relationship, but the inequality between man and boy would tip the scale drastically.

When these factors are considered, Heath’s ideal of adult comradeship may have more substance than appears at first blush. Certainly, those men and boys who, like Heath, complete a typical course of treatment with Puericil/TR will have the boyish body of an early tween for the rest of their lives. It seems reasonable to hope that among such men, Heath will find some who are also like-minded.

5. Puericil Goes Mainstream

We now come to the changes in the way that Puericil is used. The changes evolved gradually and were due to two main factors. First, the drug’s different formulations enabled a more focused treatment plan, tailored to individual boys’ needs as determined by caregivers and, increasingly, by the boys themselves. Second, with the benefit of actual experience, perceptions shifted dramatically. The range of treatable problems expanded, as did the age at which boys and men may benefit from Puericil treatment.

As noted above, Puericil in its several formulations was originally a response to misconduct and maladjustment in young males. The problems were typically those associated with the onset and early stages of puberty. Thus, the drug was prescribed as part of a treatment plan for boys in the 10-16 age group, most commonly in grades 6 through 10 or 11.

However, from the beginning, many people believed the disciplinary focus of the PDP was too narrow. Moreover, the boys who benefited from Puericil were not necessarily ‘problem’ boys. Boys and men generally lag behind girls and women in the development of social skills. This lag could not be attributed solely to sexual malaise, and it was observable both well before and long after pubescence. The larger goal, it is argued, should be improving the socialization of males. Masculinity should be regulated before it becomes toxic, which suggests beginning Puericil treatment while the boy is asymptomatic. At the other end of the age spectrum, adult males respond well to Puericil/TR for alleviation of post-puberty syndrome (often referred to as mid-life crisis).

The above reasoning has increasingly prevailed, and under this reasoning, a boy or man need not be admitted to a formal Puericil Disciplinary Program before beginning treatment. Preventive (or ‘prophylactic’) treatment now accounts for more than half of males newly started on Puericil, and the fastest growing market segments are pre-pubescent boys (as young as 9) and middle-aged men.

The manufacturer of the Puericil line of products has both facilitated and responded to growing demand. The original Puericil and Puericil/PB may now be purchased over-the-counter. They have long been available as pills instead of injections. More recently, Puericil-laced milkshakes and topical creams containing various percentages of Puericil have been introduced. The frosting on the cake, as it were, is that Puericil prices have come down. Puericil’s safety record, effectiveness, ease of use, wide availability, and affordability have all contributed to the drug’s acceptance. (Puericil/TR continues to require prescriptions, due to possibly irreversible effects resulting from continuous use or from high dosages.)

Case Study No. 8: Phil A and His Family

Q. How old were you when you started taking Puericil?

I think you’d have to ask Mommy. I know for sure I was on Puericil/PB by the time I turned 11. But shouldn’t you be asking about the whole family? After all, Daddy and both of my older brothers all take Puericil now.

That year between my 11th and 12th birthdays was such an exciting year! When that year started, all the other boys in my family were making fun of me, ‘cuz I just wasn’t interested in the things they liked. Y’know, they used to get up early in cold and nasty weather to go do manly stuff like hunt and fish. I would stay under my warm covers in my onesie, until Mommy would wake me for my oatmeal and buttered toast with honey. The closest I ever got to the Great Outdoors was the Noontime Farm Report on WCRP.

So Daddy called me a sissy, which I’m happy to say I am. Pat and Polk said I was useless, and they called me Land-Phil. This is what passes for wit here in the Frozen North. But before the year was out, they were all on Puericil/TR, and Mommy switched me to Puericil/TR so she could get the bulk discount.

Q. Did you get along with your father and brothers?

Sure did, as long as I could ignore them. Mostly, they were happy to ignore me. The three of them were celebrities, you see. Heroes of the ass-kicking, oath-keeping, real-men community. The magazine “Hunt & Gather” used to run a feature on them each season. Peter—that’s Daddy—was co-author of Slaughter: A Boy’s Guide to Killing. He was also on the board of the National Recoil Association. My brothers Pat and Polk worshiped Daddy. Mommy (Pam) was also part of that church, but now she’s in recovery.

You’ll notice that everyone’s first name starts with P. That’s Daddy’s doing. He thought he put the P in Penis.

Q. How did the other men in your family wind up on Puericil?

Oh, they begged for it. OK, not exactly begged, but that’s how I like to think of their plea bargains. Let’s see … Pat was first, which is appropriate because he’s the oldest, four years older than me. He walked out of a department store with some things he hadn’t paid for.

Q. Could it have been absent-mindedness?

Six things from three different departments. All recorded on security cameras. He didn’t seem at all absent-minded, he looked pretty deliberate.

It was Juvie or Puericil/TR for Pat. Daddy was furious. ‘No son of mine blah blah blah’ and ordered Pat to choose the drug. Serve him right, according to Daddy.

Then there was Polk, two years older than me. Polk is the bright one. A math whiz and a computer whiz. He hacked into the school computer and stole the answers to a math exam. He sold them to a couple doofuses who were failing the course.

The doofuses had been failing SO badly that the math teacher immediately noticed their perfect scores. So he pulled them out of study hall, told them that he was so sorry, but their exams had somehow gotten deleted, what a shame, but they’d have to take the exam again. In fairness to their classmates, it would have to be a different exam, the one the teacher used last year. The doofuses both got zero, and to seal the deal the math teacher had actually used the SAME test that the doofuses had supposedly just aced.

Turns out that Polk the computer whiz had neglected to cover up his hack. The math teacher and the assistant principal confronted him. Polk denied everything, so then they brought in the two doofuses, who supplied ALL the details, including how much they’d paid.

It was expulsion or Puericil/TR for Polk. Daddy was furious. He hated to toss the whiz kid under the bus, but then he’d just done that to Pat, and Daddy likes to be consistent.

Q. And your father?

Toward the end of the year, Daddy’s embezzlement was discovered. He’d had his hand in the cookie jar at the bank where he was the Chief Financial Officer. His skimming had been judicious and on a small scale, but spread over several years it had piled up. Daddy likes to be consistent.

Daddy pleaded guilty and returned his skimmings, with interest (he’s a banker after all). In return the DA recommended a short prison sentence.

The judge at the sentencing hearing scowled at the defendant. He guffawed when our lawyer referred to Daddy as a Pillar of the Community. Maybe the judge was a depositor? Anyway, it sure looked like several years in the slammer for Daddy until Mommy took the stand.

Mommy explained that Daddy was totally changed. She personally could assure the Court that he was a mere shell of the man he used to be. Besides, the boys in the family were all under great stress. They needed their Daddy to go through the experience that lay ahead of them. Daddy should be with them every step of the way.

Through all of this, Daddy was sniffling quietly, and so were Pat and Polk. I got the impression this judge was not the brightest bulb, but Mommy kept talking about her tight-knit little family until the light came on. Daddy was sentenced to a bunch of hours of community service and three years of Puericil/TR.

We’re all of us short in my family. So that the men could look taller, Mommy always wore flats and hunched over slightly. Now, coming out of the courthouse, Mommy was wearing heels and standing up straight, and I realized she was the tallest of us by an inch or more.

Not only did Mommy seem to have grown, but Daddy and the boys, looking downcast and with their shoulders slumped, looked smaller. I think Pat and Poke must be late bloomers; they’re much older than I am but only a little bit taller, and I was on Puericil before either of them.

Q. Did your home life change with all the males on Puericil?

Not much changed for me. I always wanted to be soft and pretty, and after Pat and Polk, Mommy was very happy to get soft and pretty. No, I’m definitely not a girl, I’m a girly boy. I dress to suit my mood. I do my hair or dye my hair or just let it grow long. I don’t do sports. I don’t play with erector sets. By the time I was four, at the latest, I think Daddy had given up on making a man of me.

Yes, Daddy called me a sissy, but when I told him that a sissy was exactly what I am, he pretty much accepted me. Even my brothers were OK, except when we were in public and they’d get all embarrassed. I was no cry-baby. I’d make fun of their fashion sense, and they would smile and laugh at themselves.

At home, where they didn’t have to act like Great White Hunters/Junior Division, they were really rather sweet. We had pillow fights and made popcorn with ridiculous amounts of butter and watched movies. Poke even whispered to me that he’d rather watch Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers than go ice fishing.

And I love Daddy, I really do. He’d let me climb onto his lap and cuddle, at least up to when I was about 9. He wore a wrist watch with a metal band that made these little parallel grooves on his skin. I can’t explain the fascination, but I loved to feel those grooves. I’d move that band after he came home from his office, then gently rub the grooves. ‘Poor Daddy,’ I’d say, ‘he’s working so hard.’ Weird, huh? It was my way of showing affection; I think he understood that; anyway, he never stopped me from rubbing.

Naturally, though, I was always closest to Mommy. I made my own bed as long as I can remember. I hung around the kitchen and ‘helped’ her cook. Eventually, I really did some of the cooking, and I always helped with the washing up, without being asked. No one in the family else helped with anything. They barely did anything for themselves. Daddy wasn’t above yelling for someone to bring him his house slippers. Well, I wasn’t about to, so Mommy did.

Q. How did you feel about that?

I complained to Mommy. How can you let Daddy treat you like that? She said she was brought up that way, and now that she’d figured out there was another way, it was too late to change. I thought of some smart-ass comebacks but didn’t say them, I just hugged her. And Mommy said she loved all her family the same … but I was the nicest person.

Well, for all kinds of reasons, I was NOT going to be the sort of person I saw those days in Daddy or Pat or Polk. I was going to be kittenish, maybe a little catty now and then. I was going to have soft skin with no zits, and I wasn’t going to watch my hair grow thin on top like Daddy’s. ‘Sounds like you won’t be growing up’ was Mommy’s comment. I thought that over and decided she was right.

Some time before I turned 11, I asked Mommy to give me a bath. We always enjoyed that, although lately I’d been bathing myself, she was just so tired from cleaning up after the rest of the household. Mommy knew I was terrified of puberty, so when I pointed to a bit of fluff above my peepee, she didn’t laugh. She told me it would probably be a long time before that peach fuzz turned into anything serious.

I started to cry, which is not usual for me. I guess I said something like, I didn’t want to take any chances. Mommy held my tearful face in her hands for a bit, then gave me a kiss and promised me. ‘An ounce of prevention…’ I finished her sentence, ‘…is worth a pound of Puericil.’ Which doesn’t make any sense, but I know it wasn’t long before I was popping Puericil/PB pills and washing them down with Puericil milkshakes. Mango flavor rocks!

Q. It sounds like all along you wanted to go on Puericil, and your mother and you decided on the timing.

That’s about right.

Q. But your father and brothers never planned to go on Puericil, and when they did, it was under duress. So, what was it like to watch each of them start on Puericil/TR, one after the other? As they continued taking the medication, did the family dynamics change?

Like you said, it was sequential. Pat the shoplifter was first in line. At that point, Jupiter—that’s Daddy— was still running things up on Mount Olympus. He ordered that even though Pat would be naked at school only one day a week, at home Pat would be naked all the time.

Well, you never saw such a crybaby! After the big unveil, we understood why. Pat was clearly a strong candidate for Unhung Champion of the World, and he’d only started the med on the day before. I wish I had a ruler, but I could only guess. Not more than an inch and a half, and skinny too.

I’d an idea that my brothers were late bloomers; Pat sure was. He had pubes but not many, and no other man-hair to speak of. Still, Daddy was not about to wait for Puericil to do its thing. He grabbed Mommy’s tweezers and plucked Pat, one hair at a time, until Pat was pubeless as an egg, and Pat blubbering the whole time.

Am I bad? Maybe, but I admit I enjoyed watching Pat get plucked, and I caught Poke smirking once or twice. Mommy got out some soothing ointment and rubbed it in generously all over Pat’s crotch, including his peepee and balls and even beyond his balls to where his buns start. (Later I got a peek at the ointment. It was Puericil topical cream, lavender scented, non-greasy formula.) As Mom massaged, Pat seemed to calm down; he even thanked Mommy. She gave him a nice kiss, much to Daddy’s disgust.

Pat mellowed pretty fast. I think he never grew another pube, and his complexion cleared in a few days. His personality changed even faster. He wasn’t Mark Trail any more. He was embarrassed about the shoplifting, but he didn’t beat his breast and shout mea culpa. He’d actually been stealing for a while and wholesaling his swag to his classmates; ‘everyone’ knew about it. He now thought it was a dumb stunt. To my surprise, he said his pretending to be a great sportsman was equally dumb. All along, he’d hated to leave a warm bed at 4 a.m. to go shoot at something.

Another surprise was his peepee. Oh, it got even smaller, and Pat was proud to announce the fact. ‘Hey guys, look at how tiny I am! Mommy, how about a rub down?’ And Mommy got out her special cream. Pat tried all the scents and decided he liked gardenia best.

Mommy was now spreading the cream well into Pat’s buns and even slid a finger up Pat’s little hole until she found that little bump, what is it? Yup, his prostate. She said the butt massage enhanced the cream’s effectiveness. Anyway, Pat loved it, and when Mommy was busy, I gave him the massage myself.

Turnabout is fair play, so Pat massaged me, and I enjoyed these peenie rubs as much as Pat enjoyed his. We’d both be naked of course, and afterwards we’d have a nice shower, usually followed by a cuddle. One night I told him, truthfully, that I was happy he was my brother. He cried a little bit and told me he thought he might be a sissy. I couldn’t stop laughing, then he got the giggles too. We spent a lovely night together.

Sissy or not, Pat did not change his preference. He still went for the girls, and he found that lots of girls go for sissies. Girls would walk him home and offer to carry his books. Pat told me how aggressively these girls used to feel him up; he got starry-eyed talking about his sex life!

Pat was sorry to be nude at school only one day a week, until he developed sissy fashion sense. He wore the shortest, skimpiest shorts he could find and slashed them up the sides. He also bought soft, silky blouses and left most of the buttons open or else he tied the shirt-tails across his midriff. Either way, he exposed his cute belly button and a lot of skin, especially because the waistline of his shorts barely reached his pubic mound.

Besides being Pat’s fashion consultant, I gave him another piece of advice: Good sissies always tuck. I showed him how. After Pat was on Puericil/TR for a few weeks, you’d never guess…

Pat also asked me about my tastes; it was in between kisses one night. “C’mon, Phil sweetie, tell your Big Sissy Bro. You must be gay, huh?” I sighed and explained: No, I’m not gay. Most men and a lot of boys turn me off. I like sissies, and thanks to Puericil, there seems to be more of us all the time.

Daddy was disgusted to have TWO sissy sons, but Mommy thoroughly approved and was happy that she now had two sweet boys helping around the house. Then the roof caved in on Polk.

Q. Before you get to that subject, could you say something about how Polk reacted to Pat going on Puericil?

Well, Polk didn’t act all high and mighty, like Daddy did. I think Poke enjoyed seeing Pat taken down a peg. Several pegs, actually. Pat often overdid his big brother act. Polk also knew about Pat’s sideline in stolen goods and said something know-it-all to Pat about how it was always just a question of time. But I also heard Pat mutter something to Polk that now seems like a warning, like Polk shouldn’t get too cocky himself. If it was a warning, Polk paid no attention.

It seems Polk had been selling exam answers for a while, and he had stopped taking the precaution of selling only to kids who might have done reasonably well on their own. However, the math teacher was curious enough to do more digging, and of course he turned up the prior hacks. Now this was turning into an embarrassment for the school as well as Polk. So the math teacher simply dropped a hint about how much he knew, and Polk folded. He told Daddy he was ready to take his medicine. Ha ha!

Q. How did the rest of the family react?

I think Mommy always secretly preferred Pat and me to Polk. Pat was her eldest, I was her youngest, and Polk kinda got lost in the shuffle. Or maybe Mommy was just starting to exert more control over the family. She announced that Polk’s high marks in school did not entitle him to any privileges; if anything, his misbehavior seemed more calculating than Pat’s, and so deserved more severe punishment.

Daddy glared at her; he would have spared Polk some humiliation if he could. Instead, Mommy had Polk de-pubed immediately, as Daddy had done to Pat, and to increase the humiliation, she had Pat do the de-pubing! It was sweet but quick; compared to my bit of fluff (now vanished), Polk’s pubes were darker and coarser but just as sparse. His thin hairless peepee might have been a bit longer than Pat’s or mine; Puericil soon made short work of the difference.

Pat also applied the Puericil cream. Polk squirmed. Maybe he thought Mommy would give him his massage, and he seemed miffed when she didn’t. By this time, though, Pat and I had become VERY good at peenie massages from practicing with each other. In a minute or two, Polk stopped squiriming, then he relaxed, then he looked downright blissful.

There’s a funny thing that Puericil does. Tensions and antagonisms sorta melt. All three of us brothers had our full share of the things that brothers fight about. Old grievances that aren’t forgotten, even years later. We also loved each other, but the old grievances got in the way of the affection. And here we were now, touching the family jewels tenderly, lovingly. I tell you, I wanted that touch, both the giving and the receiving.

Pat saw the effect he was having, and he plunged ahead, probing Polk’s prostate. Polk gave a little squeal and then, well, I’d have to say he purred. His eyes were closed, he got this little smile on his face; Pat and I made eye contact, then Polk’s eyes opened; we all looked at each other and smiled.

Daddy reacted like Daddy. “If that’s not the goddamdest thing I’ve ever seen!” he said with a sneer. Then Mommy surprised us all. “Shut the fuck up, Pete,” she shouted. “Boys just wanna have fun.” Juno stole Jupiter’s thunderbolt!

Polk adapted to the PDP even faster than Pat did. I'm sure part of the reason was that Polk could stop pretending.

Q, About the cheating?

Oh, no, about pretending to be straight. Poor Polk’s gay as a goose. He had known for a long time, but there didn't seem room for a queer guy trudging through the Great Outdoors. Turns out he didn’t miss the trudging at all, and for a while Daddy had to find some codgers his own age to share the misery.

By this point, I had joined Pat and Polk in being mostly naked at home. We still are, you know. We had so much fun giving each other manicures, pedicures, facials; consulting on clothes and beauty tips; asking Mommy about the things that all girls and gurls have to know…

Polk and I spent most nights together. He was much more into sex with me than Pat ever was. He also became the prettiest of the three of us; I’m only a wee bit jealous, but I think at the end of the day, I’m the one with the tiniest peepee, so that’s some consolation.

Q. What was your father’s status in the family prior to his conviction?

Daddy had lost the reins of power after Polk joined the Sissy Club. None of his sons were buying into his dream of manhood.

Looking back, I guess Mommy’s world was also turned upside-down. She’d let Daddy have his way in the home, and what a sham her brave, brilliant, honorable older sons turned out to be! The eldest son was a thief and a fence. The middle son was a cheat. Daddy would turn out to be a much bigger sham than either Pat or Polk, but he’d already been knocked off his pedestal. And what’s Jupiter without worshippers?

I don’t know what Mommy said to Daddy behind closed doors. For whatever reason, he stopped making speeches at us and let his subscriptions lapse. All three boys were joining in meal prep and having a blast; Mommy supervised us while sipping her favorite cocktail, an Old-Fashioned. Table talk at dinner also became much livelier, especially because Daddy would excuse himself right after eating his steak to go do something like carve a new stock for his shotgun.

Q. It seems that your father’s criminal conviction was anti-climactic.

No, I wouldn’t say that. When the cops showed up with the search warrant, we were shocked. I thought it must have something to do with Pat’s shoplifting. No, they ransacked Daddy’s office, and they weren’t looking for stolen cuff links. They must have been happy with what they found, because they handcuffed Daddy and hauled him away.

Mommy and I just looked on with our jaws dropped, but Pat and Polk were in tears, totally crushed. I remember Pat running to the door: “Daddy, say it ain’t so!” But so it was, and Daddy seemed to shrink as these two huge cops shoved him into the police car.

Oh dear, I’m sorry. I really thought I’d gotten over this.

Q. Take your time.

I already told you about the sentencing hearing, where Mommy saved Daddy from going to prison. Mommy also saved what she could from the wreckage. She had to sell our house, which had five bedrooms, a three-car garage, and a swimming pool, in order to make good on the money Daddy had embezzled.

For the same purpose, she liquidated the gun collection with the rest of the sporting equipment and even Daddy’s collection of pipes. The Acura, the Lexus, and the Toyota SUV went the same way, netting a pile of cash and a 10-year-old Corolla. We rented the first floor of a duplex, where we had three small bedrooms. I shared one bedroom with Polk, Pat had a bedroom to himself, and the old folks took the largest bedroom. The real hardship was that we all shared a single bathroom, but Polk and I happily agreed to shower together.

Daddy naturally lost his job at the bank, and his criminal record left him with few employment options, all of them blue collar. No more 9-to-5, either. He’d have to work the night shift or get up early five days a week. He chose to get up early. He became a sanitary engineer, better known as janitor, coincidentally at his sons’ school.

Mommy needed a job now too, but she was determined not to resume her career as secretary. She marched down to the union hall and got into an apprenticeship program for her dream job: forklift operator. She threw out her heels; her work clothes are gumboots and dungarees.

Q. How did your father adjust to all these changes?

Daddy was depressed, and for a while he barely spoke. Mommy stripped him right away and immediately dressed him again. Daddy in the nude was scary. His flesh was sagging, and he was hairy all over. Everywhere except for his scalp, which he would cover as much as he could with the hair he had left; but as the day wore on his comb-over split into separate strands. Comical if it weren’t so pathetic. And if we had tried to pluck his body, we would have been at it day and night.

Pat, Polk, and I told Mommy that Daddy wasn’t ready to be seen. She agreed. Daddy would stay in clothes for three weeks while taking a double-strength starter dose of Puericil/TR.

Daddy brightened up, and not just because he got to stay dressed. He suddenly became a non-stop talker, which was nice except that he had nothing interesting to talk about. For example, he found the ins and outs of janitor work fascinating. He made recommendations on cleaning products and explained the subtleties of floor polishing. He also kept the radio on all the time. He favored stations that played music like “You Light Up My Life.” He tried to join us in the kitchen and volunteered to cook. That was also a non-starter. Daddy’s idea of cooking was tuna hot dish—cooking out of a can.

He was trying so hard. “I just want to be one of the boys,” I remember him saying. “That’s all I ever really wanted.” We felt sorry for him, but not enough to strike up a conversation. He was just clueless.

He decided he wanted a nickname. “Other boys have nicknames; why can’t I have a nickname?” What nickname do you want? “Larry. I want to be called Larry. Doesn’t that sound cool?” We agreed that it sounded cool.

At the end of the three weeks came the Big Reveal. It was impressive, even though we had already seen how rapidly he grew a full head of hair (brunet). Plus, at two weeks, he had barely any whiskers left. At three weeks, Larry himself reminded Mommy that it was time for him to join the nudies.

That Saturday morning, Mommy called us all into the kitchen. She took a scissors to Larry’s pajamas. First, she cut the buttons off the pajama tops, then sliced the sleeves so that the pieces slid to the floor. The fly of the pajama bottoms had two buttons; she cut those off, reached into the fly, and exposed Larry’s peepee: “Come out, come out, wherever you are.” Larry was beaming and giggly. Then the scissors sliced through the waist band, and Mommy announced that Larry wouldn’t be needing pajamas from now on. Larry was now one of the boys.

The really gross fur on his back and shoulders had vanished. He still had a little hair on his chest and sizable clumps in his groin and armpits. On his arms and legs, there was nothing but fuzz.

It still looked like an awful lot of plucking, but Mommy had the solution in the form of an electric tweezer thingie. She cleared the hair from Larry’s arms and legs by way of showing us how the thingie worked, then she attacked the few black hairs around his butt crack. That part of the process seemed uncomfortable for Larry, and Mommy immediately slathered on the Puericil cream between his buns. Mommy’s finger sought out Larry’s prostate, and Larry got this beatific look that by now was very familiar to us.

Mommy turned the thingie over to Pat, and he had the job of plucking away every last remnant of hair from Larry’s chest. “Good riddance,” said Pat, and Larry actually thanked him. Pat handed the thingie to Polk. There did seem to be a lot of long hairs remaining under Larry’s arms, so Mommy first used the scissors to shorten those hairs and also Larry’s pubes. After the trimming, there didn’t seem to be so much hair, and in fact Polk had Larry’s armpits silky smooth in a couple minutes.

The closet door in the master bedroom had a full-length mirror. Larry rushed off to look at himself, and we chased after him. He raised his arms over his head and admired those smooth pits. Something about a boy having smooth pits makes him seem especially young and nude. Larry felt it; we all did. We also noticed that Larry’s sagging flesh had become taut. He must have lost a fair amount of weight during those three weeks.

We were all excited now. Mommy put away the thingie and gave me the tweezers; it seems I’d be de-pubing Larry the old-fashioned way, which suited me fine. I started with his ball sac. Hairy balls are definitely yucky. The hairs are wirey and coarse. Nothing worse. And when you’re plucking, you want to stretch the skin tight, which isn’t at all easy with the scrotum. Fortunately, I didn’t find many hairs, and as I stretched the skin as gently as I could, they seemed to yield—I didn’t even need to tweeze them. A very good sign, I thought.

Only the pubes were left. I’d become a very good plucker; boys at school who weren’t on Puericil would often ask for my help in getting themselves “cleaned up.” I got rid of the stragglers on Larry’s thighs, leaving a nice tight pubic patch. This was it! Larry’s pubes surrendered as easily as the hairs on his balls. Ta da!

We all crowded around for our first good look. Was there a genetic reason why all the boys were so little down there? I’d say so! “Wow, Larry, you really put the P in peepee!” Either that or the double-strength starter dose did quite a number on him. (Mommy whispered to me that she’d actually been using triple-strength to hurry things along.)

Along with Larry’s tiny peepee, we noticed that his ball sac had shriveled and the balls were pea-sized. Everything nicely in proportion, according to Pat. Mommy now joined the boys in massaging the Puericil cream into all the plucked areas. Larry purred like a kitten.

Q. Did your father’s personality change now that his body hair was gone?

No. Larry was still 45 going on 15. The wrinkles were gone, but his face looked fake. Like the face of a fading 50-something movie star who’d had one facelift too many. After we finished the full-body massage, he ran back to admire himself in the bedroom mirror. “Oh man,” he said, “the chicks are gonna be all over me!!”

A few weeks later, our school held its prom. Our school was unusual in that all grades came to the prom, so they could make fun of each other. Mommy and Larry attended as chaperones. Larry was excited; he planned his own outfit. It was a tight polyester shirt covered by sparkly stuff and peach-colored bell bottoms. “Pretty cool, huh? The chicks are gonna love it.” Mommy took Larry aside:

“Larry, those are bell bottoms.”

“Yes, these are bell bottoms.”

“Larry, no one wears bell bottoms any more.”

“Oh. I guess that’s why they were marked down.”

“Larry, nobody has worn bell bottoms since Nixon was President.”

“Oh. Did Nixon wear bell bottoms?”

A few days later, Larry ran off with Mrs Hotchkiss, the history teacher. Mommy was happy to have her bedroom to herself.

We are a very stable family now. All three boys have steady dates. Pat is seeing an Amazon named Margery. (The rest of us call her Large Marge.) Polk has his Biff, from the football squad. And I’m going with a FABULOUS femboi named Tal (or sometimes Tallulah; preferred pronoun: Pronoun).

With Larry gone, our little place seemed roomier. Our finances also improved. Did you know that fork-lift drivers make really good money? Mommy runs a pretty loose ship, but she makes sure that we eat right. Every morning, we get our pills and wash them down with a delicious, nutritious Puericil milkshake! It’s the Breakfast of Champions!

Q. Aside from the pleasure of having a bedroom to herself, how did your mother adjust to your father’s running off?

It wasn't long before Mommy told us she was going to start dating. We encouraged her, told her it was about time. Anyone we know? Could be, she said.

Date night rolls around. We offer Mommy some tips. Mommy thanks us, but no, she's not that old, she remembers how it's done. She comes out from her bedroom for our inspection. She’s wearing jeans and flannel shirt. Hair in a ponytail. Pat and Poke are speechless. I tell her she's making a fashion statement, but is that the statement she wants? "Trust me," she says.

Doorbell rings. Mom's date is tall and stocky. Boots, leather pants, muscle T-shirt. Hair slicked back in ducktails. Pat and Poke are speechless.

“Hey babe,” Mommy says.

“Hey Ms Bixbee,” I say, “You look fierce!”

Comment on Case Study No. 8:

As we look forward to a near-future when a family puts ALL its menfolk on Puericil, we derive encouragement and a warning from this case study. Phil’s family faced extraordinary challenges and surmounted them, in large part due to the therapeutic effects of Puericil/TR. Particularly noteworthy is the emergence of Phil’s mother as a strong, competent individual after suffering years of eclipse in a family setting dominated by toxic masculinity.

The warm, loving, supportive relationship among the three brothers is also striking. Their love even expresses itself sexually, without hindering the three brothers’ pursuit of their sexually diverse tastes. In this respect, case study no. 8 recalls observations in case study nos. 5 and 6.

With Phil’s father, the results of the therapy are disappointing. His toxic masculinity persists, despite the expected physical transformation. The lesson we draw is that Puericil treatment must be accompanied by appropriate counseling. The Puericil Disciplinary Program, as it continues to be used in schools, includes such counseling, which needs to be adapted to suit the needs of adults.

Phil’s father is still receiving Puericil as a condition of his probation. We hope that the administrators, or perhaps Mrs Hotchkiss, will recognize the man’s obsession with “chicks” for what it is—a cry for help!

(End of File)