Decree 9983
By Musuko

Decree 9983 came into being amidst a confusion of different motivations and conflicting forces; the fundamental driving force behind its creation has never been clear. Some say that Decree 9983 is the spear of a moral crusade. Others call it a pragmatic and practical response to the problems of overpopulation and sexually-transmitted disease. Still others suspect shadier motives, but have never been able to come to a satisfactory consensus over what those motives might be.
	Whatever its reasons for being, Decree 9983 was and is quite simple in form; a simple sentence, passed down from the Union Assembly: All forms of sexual activity by and between citizens and subjects are hereby to be monitored, regulated and restricted by the state.
	How the Decree was to be implemented, however, was not quite so simple, and was left in the capable hands of the states themselves.

New Hampshire

Julian squirmed in his seat and checked the clock again. The hands hadn't really moved since the last time he looked. Still, it was better than looking at the door, because he knew that was going to open any minute now, and he was gonna see one of two things; his classmate Nicky, either looking relieved, or unhappy, maybe even crying.
	Julian chewed his claw. Every month it was the same. Never got any easier. The long wait outside the nurse's office. And then...the test. Ugh. He didn't want to think about it!
	A click made him jump. The door opened. Out strode Nicky, looking breathless and a little sweaty, but otherwise happy.
	“I passed!” he said with a toothy smile. He waved to Julian as he scampered past and round the corner, back to class. “Good luck!”
	Nurse Bramble stood waiting. She was super stern. Julian had never, ever seen her smile.
	“Come along, Julian,” she said.
	Julian sighed and slid off his seat, walking into the nurse's office like a prisoner on death row going to that one special room each prisoner only ever saw once. He hopped up onto the padded table and lay flat. They still hadn't fixed that cracked ceiling tile.
	“How have you been, Julian?”
	“Fine.”
	“Have you had any disturbing dreams?”
	“No.”
	“Nocturnal emissions?”
	Julian flushed. “Nu-uh.”
	“How about confusing thoughts about your friends or classmates?”
	Julian thought about Nicky, wearing his swim-shorts and splashing around in the pool, his fur all wet and shiny, the fabric of the shorts clinging right up into his butt crease. He bit his lip.
	“N-no. No thoughts...”
	“Very good,” said Nurse Bramble, putting the clipboard down. “Are you ready for the test?”
	Julian nodded and closed his eyes. He sighed. In five minutes it'll be over.
	First came the preparation. He had to do this bit; Nurse Bramble wasn't allowed to help him undress. State law was weird. He unzipped and unbuttoned his fly and tugged the waistband apart. He was naked underneath; he hadn't worn boxers, knowing today was test day. It was just easier that way. He checked to make sure his entire sheath was uncovered, then put his paws behind his head and lay still.
	He heard the squishy noise that told him that Nurse Bramble was working the pump on the lubrication dispenser. That meant that in a few moments...ah! Cold cold cold! He clamped his mouth shut against whimpers and tried to stay still as the icy liquid covered his sheath. It took forever to warm up. Why couldn't they warm it up before they use it?
	Then came the rubbery feeling and the weird sucky noise; like a broken vacuum cleaner that had gone all wheezy. He gritted his teeth and braced himself.
	It was like getting a hicky on his member. Not exactly painful, but not very nice either. He couldn't imagine that anyone could ever like this. Adults were weird! The tube kept sucking, trying to do whatever it was that they were testing for, and he had to just lie still and let it happen. His thoughts wandered...back to Nicky, swimming about in the pool, diving down under the water and showing off a quick flash of his butt and the soles of his feet.
	Something weird was happening. The sucking noise changed in tone. His member felt...different. He broke the rules and opened his eyes, looking down at the clear tube fitted over his sheath...and saw that his member was sticking out of his sheath, filling up the tube!
	“Hey, what's g-”
	“Hush now, everything is fine,” said Nurse Bramble. She pressed a switch and the suction died away.
	“What happened? It went all...” He yelped as she lifted off the tube and the cool air struck his member. “Did I...did I still pass?”
	“No Julian,” said Nurse Bramble. “You didn't pass.”

Julian had a choice. Or rather, his parents had a choice. It wasn't a big choice; privately-funded, or state-supplied. Julian's parent's weren't exactly wealthy, so state-supplied it was.
	The thing that Nurse Bramble produced from its box was bulky and ugly; just a collection of lumpy bits of metal dipped in a coating of some kind of white rubbery stuff. Nurse Bramble bored him with a long talk about hygiene and maintenance. Then came the fitting.
	Back on the table. Julian tried not to cry. Nurse Bramble's gloved fingers tugged and jabbed at his sensitive bits in all sorts of uncomfortable ways. He felt the heavy ring close around the base of his sheath and behind his balls. Then the short capped tube went down over his sheath. He winced and yelped as the tapered inner tube nestled its way down between his sheath and his member, forming a snug fit.
	Once it was on, the 'lock' was fitted. This was a metal pin stamped with a code. It went through the locking bolts and was sealed in place with a special device that made a hot spark and an ozone tang in the air. Julian fretted, anxious to tug at the uncomfortable thing and try to relieve some of the weight hanging from his balls. Some of his friends got the fancy privately-funded versions, which were light-weight and flexible, made of carbon-fibre sometimes. But no, Julian had the heavy, bulky version that everyone was gonna be able to see even through his clothes. They would laugh at him in the gym showers. Everyone would know he'd failed his test and started puberty.
	“How do I take it off?” he asked with a sniffle. “You know...to clean and...stuff?”
	“Oh honey,” said Nurse Bramble, shocking him with a small smile. And now, Julian did start to cry.

Washington

Liam was trying to be good, he really was. But the odds were stacked against him. Why did they have to give the Probation software such a sexy voice?
	“Curfew warning. Ten minutes until lock-down,” spoke the bracelet on his right wrist in its ridiculously sultry voice. Liam steeled himself against the snowy wind and quickened his pace. He'd be able to move a lot quicker, he thought, if he weren't so puffed up with his snow jacket and...other things...and if he wasn't weighed down by the bracelets on his wrists and ankles which, despite their misleading name suggesting they were slim and elegant, were heavy, bulky shackles; electronics may have advanced rapidly, but batteries had not, and these things needed a fuckload of batteries. Liam shivered as he remembered why and broke into a run.
	“Curfew warning. Five minutes until lock-down.”
	“Shit shit shit.”
	He tried not to think about the voice softly scolding him...about it telling him he was naughty and that he needed to be punished. He tried not to...
	“Oh shit,” he moaned, feeling the tell-tale swelling between his legs. And now it had started, it wasn't going to stop. It was just going to rub against the fabric of...against the fabric. And it was going to get bigger and bigger until...
	“Erection detected. Applying countermeasure.”
	“No! Don't do that, please! I'm so close to-”
	His limbs jerked, joints locking rigid, and he tumbled forward into the snow, where he lay twitching and moaning. The bracelets sent their evil electric shocks into the probes pressing against his wrists and ankles, turning his whole body into throes of twitching agony; the only sure-fire way to nullify an erection, apparently.
	“Curfew warning. One minute until lock-down.”
	He tried to stand up. Home was so close; he could see it from here! He lifted a foot that trembled and refused to obey him while the current still zapped into his ankle. His sole slipped on the ice and he fell again.
	“I'm soft! Stop shocking me, please!” he cried.
	“Alert! Curfew has been breached! Please remain where you are and await the arrival of authorities.”
	Liam lay down in the snow and moaned weakly. Great...now the shocking finally stops. He could hear the siren of the cop car approaching. And as he lay there, that was when the little valve grafted into his bladder decided to go into free flow mode, allowing the contents to come gushing out to soak his court-ordered diaper.

“Name?” said the custody officer.
	“Liam Bar-”
	“No, your Probationary name.”
	Liam bit his lip and felt his ears redden. “Mister Pissypants.”
	“Crime?”
	“I pissed in some bushes.”
	The custody officer gave him a hard stare.
	“Alright,” said Liam with a sigh. “Public lewdness.”
	“Probationary breach category?”
	“Breaking curfew...I think.”
	The custody officer held out his paw and clicked his fingers. Liam held his arm out. The officer tapped a plastic tag against the bracelet. The screen on the desk filled up with information.
	“Breaking curfew and unlicensed public arousal,” said the officer.
	“But it wasn't public! The street was empty and it was-”
	“Where you in the privacy of your own home?”
	“No, but-”
	“Then you were in public. You are charged with breaking curfew and unlicensed public arousal. Do you wish to accept the punishment, or challenge the charge in court?”
	“I'll accept the punishment,” said Liam, knowing full well that challenging the charge was a sure-fire way to ending up with the punishment being doubled.
	“Sentence is six hours of public pillory, to be completed within the next twelve calender days.”
	“Six hours?! But that's...”
	The custody officer simply had to raise an eyebrow to shut him up. Liam knew it was within the man's power to tap a button and make it sixty hours.
	“Six hours,” muttered Liam. “Right. Got it. Thank you, sir.”
	The custody officer nodded and turned his attention to his computer. That was Liam's cue to leave, and he scampered out as fast as he could...before he could go and earn himself an even worse punishment.

The pillory stood in the street outside the entrance to a busy shopping mall. Enclosed by glass on three sides, whoever was inside it would be on display for all to see. Liam's fingers shook as he held his palm on the biometric scanner.
	“Access granted, Mister Pissypants,” said the scanner.
	The door slid open. Inside was a small changing room, secluded and private from the outside, but not from the cameras in the ceiling. Liam set his bag down and started the chore of undressing.
	“Diaper removal detected,” said his bracelet. “Please restore to court-ordered condition or contact your supervisor for assistance.”
	“I'm in a pillory you stupid thing! I've gotta remove the diaper!”
	“Diaper removal detected. Please restore-”
	“Alright alright!”
	He slapped the adhesive tapes back into position. The bracelet shut up. Liam looked up at the cameras.
	“I've gotta go out there like this?”
	As if in answer, the inner door clicked and swung open. Liam could already see a few faces looking in through the glass of the enclosure.
	“Great,” he muttered. “Well, at least it'll protect me a bit...”
	The laughter started right away; the state was kind enough to install microphones outside and speakers inside so he could hear everything that was said. He avoided looking out and just headed straight for the pillory post. He knew how it worked; he knelt on the cushioned bench, placed his wrists in the upper stocks and his ankles in the lower stocks. The bracelets did the rest; they snapped in place against their restraint points, locked by magnets.
	Now he was bent over, his diapered butt on show for all to see. As it would be for the next six hours. The panel behind him opened, and someone outside cheered. He gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the arm to extend with the paddle, waiting for it to bring the first stinging blow down onto his rear, all because someone outside had pressed the “spank” button. He felt helpless. He felt ashamed. He felt...
	“Erection detected. Applying countermeasure.”
	...horny.

Texas

He shuffled forward into the space vacated by the patient in front of him. The patient's name was...umm. He wasn't sure.
	He wasn't really sure of his own name. Mike? James? Barnabas? Wait, was that last one an actual name? Where had that come from?
	“Fifty-three,” cried the...person. Man in the suit thing? Wait...uniform! The man in the uniform.
	“Oh, that's me!” he said. So his name was Fifty-three, then. Fifty-three shuffled forward to accept his medication; he popped his mouth open and tilted his head back and waited for the squirt from the nozzle. The liquid splashed against his tongue and trickled down his throat in a gloopy trickle. Tasted kinda sweet and salty at the same time. He closed his mouth and licked his palette clean.
	“Fifty-four,” cried the man in the uniform. Fifty-three shuffled to the side, turned around, and followed Fifty-two back down the corridor.
	Another uniformed man at the far end patted him down. Fifty-three wasn't sure why he did that, but it didn't really matter; he felt happy. He always felt happy after getting his medication. None of those naughty thoughts!
	Next, the uniformed man checked his straitjacket, making sure all the straps were still secure and tight. They still were; his arms were wrapped snug around him. Even so, the man turned him around and tugged on the straps, pulling them an extra notch tighter in the buckles. Fifty-three squeaked softly, feeling his ribcage squeeze in. Then the lower straps tightened, digging into his inner thighs and pushing his chastity pod up and outwards. He groaned as the movement kneaded his aching, swollen balls.
	The man turned him back around, tousled his hair, and gave him a smile. Fifty-three smiled back foggily.
	“Thank you,” he slurred.
	“You're quite welcome,” grinned the man. He waved him through the door, and Fifty-three shuffled into the day room.
	The sun was hot outside, streaming in through the windows. But inside it was cool and lovely. Fifty-three dropped into a beanbag and enjoyed the soft feeling against his naked butt...then just...stayed there awhile, dreamily watching the motes of dust float in the sunbeams.
	He didn't really pay much attention to the shouting.
	Or the alarms, and the hurried footsteps.
	The explosion woke him up a bit. And the shattering glass made him jump.
	Some paws grabbed at him and he saw some weird people. They didn't have masks or straitjackets or chastity pods on, and they had black fabric over their faces, stretched tight and making their features all distorted. Fifty-three started giggling as they hurried him out through the chaos and towards a thing...hmm. He knew what these things were. He just had to think...
	Ah, a van! Yes, that was it. They were putting him into a van.

Fifty-three felt a lot better. For starters, he knew his name was not Fifty-three. It was Andrew. He was twenty-one, and a college student, about to get his degree from...
	...oh, that was right. He wasn't a college student. Not any more. And all because of one drunken kiss that went too far, drifting paws, indiscreet giggles, and a nosey campus cop.
	“They called me a sex pest!” he whined, reliving the memories.
	“Shh now,” said Jama as she cut away at the thick canvas of the straitjacket. She was having a hard time getting through it; the locks were sturdy, and the fabric itself had a metal mesh woven into it. She grunted and levered hard against the handles of the scissors.
	“Might need something stronger,” she said, tossing the mangled blades aside and wiping sweat from under her hair.
	“What about this?” said Andrew, nodding down towards the chastity pod.
	“I have no idea,” she said. “Probably need a...what was that? James?”
	James, standing guard at the window of the apartment, peered out through the blinds. “Just a truck braking for a cat in the road. We're alright.”
	“You sure?”
	“Pretty sure the cops aren't delivering groceries, Jama.”
	“Umm,” said Andrew. “About the pod?”
	Jama gave it another look. Then she touched it. Andrew winced; his balls ached like they had been punched.
	“How long was I in there?” he asked.
	“Just over four months.”
	Andrew groaned. Four months without orgasm, when he normally gave himself at least three a day. No wonder they were sore.
	“Might need a blowtorch or something for this.”
	“You can't do that! You'll boil my cock off!”
	“Well, something! I dunno!” Jama twisted the pod slightly to look at the lock. Andrew groaned again and felt his cock dribble precum against the inner surface. “Maybe a drill?”
	“Whatever you do, do it fast. I've got balls bigger and bluer than the Atlantic Ocean!”
	Jama smiled and leaned in to kiss Andrew's cheek. “Don't worry, big boy. We'll get you out and finish what we started.”
	At the window, James took a step backwards. He said one word. “Uh...”
	And that was when the glass blew in.

Fifty-three rocked gently from side to side. His naughty bits were hurting. The men in the uniforms had fitted a hose wire thing to it, and the inside was all tingly and painful. He chewed on the big rubber gag in his muzzle and tried to whine for attention. Nobody came, though; they never did when you made noises in the punishment room.
	Next to him, laying on the padded floor, making their own miserable groaning noises as their own chastity pods punished them, were two people he thought he kinda recognised. One was a guy. The other was a woman...he could tell because of the shape, and some other things. Things like...hair? And that her chastity pod was the other design; the flatter one, unlike the round one the guys like him had.
	What were their names? Patrick? Penny? Gertrude?
	Was Gertrude even a name?

Alberta Federated Control Zone

Dear Citizen 59390232

Your request for Citizen Service has been processed. Based on your medical screening, you have been selected as being suitable for the following roles. Please see the enclosed booklet for additional details.

1: Seminal fluid donor (D).

Ryan flipped the page over and checked the back. Nothing. The fuck? Just one suitable role? What about breeder? He had asked for breeder specifically! He sighed and put his head in his hands.
	Still, though. It wasn't all bad, was it? Alright, so he wouldn't be fucking the sexy wives of the state's impotent husbands for a month. Can't win them all. Being a seminal fluid donor didn't sound all that bad; jack it into a cup for a month and presto, Citizen Service complete, full Citizen rights obtained, and no more chastity cup! He could strut his stuff and show off to all his friends, maybe get a blowjob or two from the cute ones. He'd be the teenage king of his peers.
	The booklet was as thick as his thumb. He flipped through it. Solid blocks of text. No pictures. He tossed it away and pulled out the acceptance form.

Ryan looked around for some kind of privacy screen in the little room, finding none. There was just a few cabinets and a thing that looked like some kind of medical scanner. Well, they were probably using whatever spare space they had; probably didn't have dedicated jacking rooms!
	The attendant helped him out of his dust mask and took his smock. Ryan started to move away, but the attendant tugged him back.
	“Those too,” he said, voice muffled behind his mask.
	“What?”
	“The rest of your clothes, please.”
	“Huh? Why?”
	“Donors must be nude.”
	Ryan shrugged. Well, there was no harm in it. Probably some stupid health and safety rule. He wriggled out of his clothes and handed them over. He brushed his fur down and shivered momentarily, catching the breeze from the air-conditioning.
	Then the attendant did something delightful, and all the discomfort was worth it; he produced a keyfob and pressed it to the scanner on his chastity cup. Instantly, the hateful thing disengaged, and Ryan's teenaged cock felt naked air for the first time in six years. His paw went straight to it. The attendant's paw was quicker, grabbing his wrist.
	“No touching.”
	“But...how'm I meant to donate?”
	The attendant gestured towards the machine thing. As if on cue, the thing started to open up on a hydraulic hinge, exposing a padded bed inside. It looked like the bastard love-child of a tanning bed and a warp core.
	“In there?” asked Ryan.
	“In there,” confirmed the attendant.
	Ryan climbed inside. The padding that had looked so warm and soft now revealed itself to be cold and firm, like gel-filled plastic bags. He shivered as he lay flat.
	“Now, lie still,” said the attendant, rather unnecessarily, Ryan thought, seeing as the next thing he did was to press a needle into Ryan's arm and send him away into la-la-land.
	Groggily, he came back to awareness, and felt and saw blurry activity around him. He tried to lift an arm, but it failed to respond. The same result came from an attempt to move his head. One by one he tried limbs, finding that each of them was immobile, gripped by unseen things that were soft and unyielding. He was still on the padded bed; he could feel the padding. But it wasn't cold any more; it had warmed to his body temperature, and he could barely feel it.
	“What's going on?” he groaned. He blinked away some of the blurriness. The attendant was there, along with a couple of other people. They were doing something down below. Nobody answered him, but he did get some kind of answer; the cold, slick feeling of something being pushed up into his rear.
	“Motherfuckers!” he screamed. “Get the fuck off m-mmph!”
	He clenched his eyes and shuddered; something cold and slick had also just wrapped itself around his cock, and had instantly started to vibrate. Suddenly, it was hard to concentrate on much else.
	“Ugh...” he groaned. Whatever was inside his rear had just swelled up like a balloon. “Oh fuggh...”
	The attendant leaned over. He had one last thing to insert; a rubbery tube with a rounded bulb at the end. It went into Ryan's slackly open mouth. It inflated like the one in his rear, pressing his tongue down, holding in place with straps around his head. The attendant gave him one last look over from head to toe, then stepped away. The lid of the machine closed down over Ryan, and everything went dark.
	“Nnngh,” groaned Ryan. He closed his eyes as his cock throbbed and dribbled out a trickle of precum, which was hungrily sucked away by the tube. Well, if this was how they wanted to get his seed, he thought, he guessed he could live with that. One month of pleasure before his freedom...not too bad!
	It was taking its time in making him cum, though. He guessed it must just be building up to it...
	...right?

Seminal fluid donor (D): donors will provide pre-ejaculate for medical research into toxicity-induced impotence. Suitable candidates will be required to serve for a period of 36 months, 24/7, incubated within a life-support canister. Please see below for further details.

PLEASE NOTE: Due to the delicate nature of the fluids collected, Seminal fluid donor (D) participants will NOT be allowed to ejaculate during their service. Please do not confuse with Seminal fluid donor (A) (see page 196).

The Alberta Federated Control Zone thanks you for your service during these difficult times.

CLASSIFIED

Serum 67 test, no.4. Delivery method; ingestion via solid food (pizza).

The next cabin over, Raven Cabin, was flooded because the roof leaked. That was why Nicky had to share his bed with Patrick, and why all the other boys in Eagle Cabin were doubled-up in their beds too. It was perfectly logical, if unwelcome.
	What wasn't logical was Patrick's insistence that they both sleep at the same end of the bed.
	“I'm not gonna sleep with your stinky feet in my face!”
	Patrick was bigger than Nicky, and was a year older, so there wasn't much arguing. Not after the first shoulder punch anyway.
	Nicky couldn't sleep. He was squeezed into a narrow space between Patrick and the wall. The cabin was hot and sticky. The air smelled sweaty. And Patrick was definitely taking up more than half the bed! Nicky could feel his breath on his ear. And how was he gonna get comfy? If he faced the wall, he'd have Patrick's junk poking his butt. If he faced the other way, they were nose to nose and practically kissing. If he stayed as he was, laid on his back, then he had to put up with Patrick's tickling breath.
	So he lay there, one of sixteen boys crammed into a space designed to fit eight, trying his hardest to sleep. And the harder he tried, the more difficult it became. Sixteen sleeping boys. All those hormones, floating around in the air. Sixteen sweaty teenage boys, pressed up together in the narrow beds, their nearly naked bodies covered only by thin blankets that were pushed down because of the heat, exposing tummies, or sticking-out feet.
	Nicky...was trying not to get an erection. Not just because jacking it would be against the law...but because Patrick was right there! He nearly whimpered...oh crap, what would he do if he found out? Go down, go down...stop stop!
	He felt Patrick shift beside him, and the breathing moved down a little, tickling his neck now. Nicky tried to think about anything other than the raging teenage erection now tenting the blanket less than a foot away from Patrick. But trying not to think about it meant thinking about it! And that just made it worse!
	He decided, after much thought, that the safest thing to do was roll on his side. So he did, as carefully and slowly as he could, turning to face the wall, putting some distance and the barrier of his own body as a safety precaution against his perverted hard-on being discovered.
	Something bumped against his butt. He froze. It did it again...and again...a slowly repeating pattern.
	Holy shit, he thought; Patrick was jacking off! Right in the bed with Nicky! And it was touching his butt!
	For what felt like forever, Nicky just lay there, uncertain what to do. Should he try to stop Patrick? Throw back the blanket and loudly announce for the rest of the boys to hear and see and laugh at? Should he do something subtle to let Patrick know that he knew, so he would stop?
	Oh crap...what if he didn't stop? What if he...
	Nicky's cheeks burned and his heart thumped. Now he was thinking about it, he couldn't stop. What if he did? What if Patrick...wanted Nicky to help?
	And what if...Nicky wanted to?
	Heart racing...thumpa-thump. Nicky's paw made a decision without him; it slid down his front and wrapped around his own aching hard-on. If Patrick was doing it, surely he could get away with it too.
	Suddenly, Patrick shifted and Nicky froze. He felt breath on the back of his neck, then on his ear.
	“Roll over,” whispered Patrick.
	Nicky nearly squeaked. He must have been less sneaky than he thought. Patrick must have known what he was doing...which meant he knew that Nicky knew what he was doing, which meant...which meant Nicky was over-thinking it. He slowly rolled back onto his back.
	“Keep going...”
	He rolled over onto his other shoulder and came face to face with Patrick, noses nearly touching. He could see Patrick's eyes shining in the dim moonlight filtering in through the window. He felt a paw moving under the blanket, bumping against his thigh, getting lost amongst the confusing closeness of their bodies. It closed over the top of his own paw, then gently prised it off his cock. Nicky tensed. Patrick was gonna...he was gonna...
	Patrick started stroking him. Nicky bit his lip to stifle a moan.
	“You do me,” whispered Patrick. He sounded out of breath, even in a whisper.
	Nicky's fingers found their target after lots of fumbling. It was warm and soft, but firm as well. Just like his own. He gently squeezed and rolled his fingers up and down it. Patrick panted softly against his lips, and Nicky felt him lift a leg up and hook it behind his knee, drawing him closer, pressing their two bodies together. A little voice squealed inside Nicky's head, unable to believe this was really happening. Another voice begged him to be quiet, whatever he did, and not gasp out or creak the bed or something!
	“Faster,” whispered Patrick, his voice trembling now. “Don't tease me. I gotta get off...so badly.”
	Nicky sped up his stroking. At the same time, so did Patrick. The pressure seemed to boil inside his cock. He'd jerked off before, of course, even if it was against the law. He'd always been careful not to get caught, though. This was so dangerous. There were six other boys who might turn on the light at any moment and catch them. Nicky scrunched his eyes up and concentrated on finishing fast. He thought about...Patrick. Pressed against him. Hot and sweaty. Panting. Shivering. His cock throbbing in his paw.
	“F-faster,” gasped Patrick. “Please...I'm so close.”
	“Shh,” hissed Nicky. “W-we'll get caught.”
	“I don't care...I need it.”
	Nicky nearly whimpered. He needed it too. More than ever, actually. He started to rock his butt in time with Patrick's stroking, trying to get more rubbing. Faster...needed it faster. But his wrist was already aching, and Patrick's paw was moving just as fast as his. The bed was creaking now, and they were both gasping and panting. Someone was definitely gonna hear them!
	And then Nicky heard it; creaking and panting and gasping, but not from them; from above them, from the bunk above. And from next to them, and from across the other side of the cabin. From all around them. He could hardly believe it...until he heard a mewling cry that was definitely Bobby's distinctive voice, from his bunk over by the door. The sound seemed to break the spell; sixteen horny boys all let go of themselves at once, moaning and shaking and throwing aside blankets, openly jacking themselves or each-other, filling the heavy air of the cabin with their musky scents.
	It was more than an hour later when they each finally came to the exhausted, miserable conclusion that, despite whatever they tried, however fast they jacked off or sucked each-other, or even, in the case of the more adventurous boys, fucked each-other in the butt...not one of them, not a single one of them, could make themselves orgasm.

Serum 67 test, no.4. Result: full success. Recommendation for dispersal into food-supply of general population; pending.