Golden Boys – Part 1

  1. Campers are not permitted to be within half a meter of each other; unless directed to by a camp instructor.

 

On a throne of hungry iron I sit, with a crown of electric

 wires upon my head and a wire ring pinching my

dick.

 I await my coronation.

“I’d like you to concentrate on the images that will appear on the screen in front of you. Do not look away; otherwise, we will not gather an accurate measurement.”

“A measurement of what?” I ask.

“Your homosexuality, of course.”

She doesn’t need to conduct the test. I know from the nurse’s whydontyoujustcomeoutalready

smile that she already saw the neon pink

QUEER

tattooed to my forehead.

But that’s why I’m here.                     To remove the queer.

 

Satisfied that the wire around my dick is

causing maximum irritation,

the nurse sits behind me.

“Remember, do not look away from the screen. I will know if you do.”

 

Inside the cosy log cabin implanted with metal, the lights go out.

A beam of bright                     sex                   radiates over my body from the

screen.

Men fucking women, women fucking women, men fucking men

Tits                  Arse                 Cock                Vagina

appear one after another. It’s like the kind of porn your Dad watches

on a Sunday afternoon while your Mum washes the dishes after dinner:

tasteless, vulgar and straight to the point.

 

The pictures become more male focused. And my body

loves it.

My grotesque disorder displays proudly through my shorts.

No matter how I organise my legs, or which way I lean,

my body

betrays me.

My body

sickens me.

My body

is no longer mine.

 

“Don’t worry dear. I’ve seen it all before. By the time these two weeks are up,

you won’t be having anymore                        unnatural                     erections.”

 

Her clipboard scribbles make me nervous.

I can tell she’s examining how my entire body is reacting to these images;

right down to the sweat that’s gathering around my

crotch.

Ten minutes later, and I feel like the last image of a man sprawled out on a messy bed with                                                        cum

on his stomach.

 

The screen turns black reflecting my bloodshotcocaineaddictinrehab eyes that stare

disgusted at the seventeen-year-old who just got hard from naked               men.

 

I’m usurped from my throne as I stand aside to let the next nervous

queen in. The nurse hands me a folded piece of paper and tells me that I’ll need it for room allocation.

Violated and confused, I find my bags and join the other campers.

 

Outside,                       the sun stains our brass bodies gold.                         They say it’s going to be a hot summer.

Eight romantic log cabins stretch across the back of the camp in a

military line, with one larger cabin to the side.

To the left, an iridescent lake spills green and blue into the

dense woodland that separates us                   from the                     world.

Dad got lost three times trying to get me here.

 

Feeling sticky, I sit away from the other campers.

 

“So, what you get then?”

A guy with long black hair stands

above me with overfamiliarity. The name Gabriel hangs from a tag tied to his backpack.

Blocking out the sun with his head,

divinity casts

halo of light around his body.

Eyes, filled like the green lake flood

onto the paper in my hands.

“Oh, umm… I don’t know. Haven’t looked at it yet.”

“Well let’s have a look, batty boy.” Gabriel snatches the paper from my hands,

“Well lookie here. You’re a ten, just like me.”

“What does that indicate?” I ask.

“This means that you’re one hundred percent fagot. Congratulations!”

He takes out an identical piece of paper from the pocket of his black skinny jeans.

He holds both up.                                            Definite red 10’s brand the paper.

“Looks like someone loves cock just as much as I do.”

 

Ten?

Ten out of ten faggot.

The perfect score for the perfect queer.

Passed the homo test with an A+.

 

“Camper Gabriel, please step away from your fellow camper. You are a little too close.”

A Camp Instructor with a large Village People’s moustache hurries over to us, flapping his arms like he’s leading the YMCA.

“Sure thing. Just being friendly is all.” Gabriel adjusts the collar of his leather jacket and winks at me before swaggering away.

“You, camper…”

“Drew.” I say.

“Hello camper Drew, I’m Trevor, one of the senior camp councillors here. Please come and join the rest of us, we’re just about ready to assign rooms.”

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