The Community at Barstock Hollow

Outsiders were always impressed whenever they visited the good people of Barstock Hollow. Set in the lower valleys some 500 miles from the nearest town, the community appeared to enjoy an extraordinarily happy existence, completely self contained at the foothills of Mount Mellow, surrounded by a network of clear streams and acres of fertile soil.

Visits from outsiders took place annually, and were always carefully planned. Small groups of tourists were shown around the town by a group of highly trained and charming hostesses. For those who had visited more than once, it soon became apparent that these tours were meticulously choreographed and provided no time or opportunity for visitors to speak freely to the citizens or wander off alone. For decades the community lived an entirely secret existence, periodically hosting these visitor days, and each year releasing information emphasising the positive aspects of their community. To the outside world Barstock was a bizarre little settlement caught in a time-warp between the middle of the twentieth century and modern day life.

It was therefore a huge shock when in 2010, a member of the community secretly planted a folio into the rucksack of a visitor, and for the first and only time the truth behind the lives of the Barstock community was revealed to an astonished world. Many people have commented on this story, but this is the first time that this folio has been published in it's entirety, complete and unabridged, so that readers can judge for themselves whether the decision to break up this society early in 2011 was an act of mercy, or an unforgiveable act of anthropological vandalism:-

Dear people of faraway lands.........

My name is Lemor Pold, and I am 27 years old. I am a domestic male husband owned by my wife controller Tenta Pold in the western sector of Barstock Suburb 79. I am the only male, to my knowledge, who can read and write in Barstock and am sending this letter to inform the world of the very real concerns I have about the conditions that all all adult males living here in Barstock are forced to endure.

The best way I can explain the situation is to describe in detail my own life here as the property of wife controller Tenta.

Older males in Barstock are educated entirely separately from the females. Up to the age of 18 boys and girls live happily together. However on their 18th birthday things take a dramatic turn for the worse, and from that day forward the lives of young men are very different from those of the young ladies of Barstock. At 18 all boys are taken to the Focusing Centre which accounts for most of the eastern side of Barstock. The Focusing Centre is surrounded by a 10 metre concrete wall, an inner no man's land of 300 metres and an inner palisade fence 8 metres in height.

Life in the Focusing Centre is highly regimented and divided into 3 periods: Bleak years (18 to 21), Fear years (21to 23) and Focus years (23 to 25). Each boy is married at the end of their Bleak years and spends 4 years focused entirely on learning to please their controller wife, who finally collects them and takes them home on their 25th birthday.

The Bleak years are quite uneventful, and are used solely to feed the body and starve the mind. Food is rich and plentiful and each boy is provided with an increasingly challenging exercise routine to ensure that they grow healthily to maximise their physical potential in later years. Great care is taken to minimise any mental stimulus and education of any kind is strictly banned. There is little verbal communication, and no emotional interaction. No shows of affection are offered or accepted. The boys are simply fed, exercised and slept. They learn very little if anything about Barstock or the outside world and develop a blank haunted look entirely unique to young Barstock males in their Bleak training, which appears incongruous as physically they look the picture of rude health. There are no teenage tantrums or sulking glowering floppy headed males to be seen. Just silent untutored tedium. Each boy is progressed up to the Fear Years programme on their 21st birthday, perfect hollow shells ready to be moulded exactly as the women of Barstock intend.

The Fear years are in many ways the most crucial, as this is the time when each boy is assessed and then carefully moulded into the 'frame' which will then be trained or 'focused' to fulfil their own particular role. There are many roles for males in Barstock, all of which have been carefully planned to ensure the community functions smoothly and in the best interests of the wife controllers.

I remember my first days in Fear with horror. Instead of being ignored, and left to stare blankly at the walls between meals and sleep I suddenly became the focus of an enormous amount of attention. The Fear tutors were very different to the Nanny controllers in Bleak. They were demanding, ever present and constantly assessing, measuring, taking notes, poking and prodding and talking together in whispering huddles. I soon learnt that unless I gave them my complete attention they would be very aggressive towards me. Shouting and clapping their hands until I sat upright and listened carefully to their demands.

Each boy slowly changed over the fear years. From a blank, hollow eyed zombie, you could see the boys become wary and frightened. Eye contact was almost non- existent, with quick frightened glances made whenever a Controller came into a room. The relentless intensity of the Fear years is difficult to describe. It is like living in a n intense bubble of fear. You live in a constant state of high anxiety. No one ever tells you anything. The world remained a complete mystery. I remember that I had vague thoughts about who I was, and what life was all about, but without any understanding concepts were just addled and confused half thoughts. I do remember that I did learn the emotion of fear, and the emotion of humiliation, but not what they meant. I just felt constantly frightened and constantly small and useless. The controllers gave nothing away. There was never a tender moment at the end of the day, or an occasional pat on the head. Nothing.

On my 23rd birthday, I later learnt that to be the date, I awoke as normal at 0430 when the Brilliance ceiling turned on, and the room I slept in suddenly became lit with a harsh white light. Instead of the usual march down to my controller I was escorted by two junior controllers down a long corridor to a small chamber with 4 seats down each side. On the far wall was a large steel door marked Focus Facility. I sat down on a bench and the controllers walked back to Fear leaving me alone, with no idea what to do or what would happen next. I was naked, cold, frightened and confused.

The Focus Years.

1.Revelation.

After an hour the steel door opened and a strange creature came into view. Up to now all women controllers were identically dressed. I remember the nanny controllers wore long black skirts and white blouses. In Fear the women wore white coats over plain blue suits. This woman looked very different, and for the first time in my life I had some idea of the strange and subtle curves that differentiate the women controllers in Focus from all of the female controllers and boys I mixed with in the Bleak and Fear units.

In silence the woman controller lifted me by hooking a long slender finger under my chin and lifting me to my feet. She was nearly a foot taller than me, even after her finger pulled me up on to tiptoe. I remember that I would not have dared to make eye contact or make a sound. I just accepted that this was my fate.

After a few seconds the pressure released and the woman controller attached a heavy steel collar to my neck. I recall the heavy satisfying clicking sound as the two hinged pieces locked together, and the key was turned in the lock. I instantly felt the cold weight of this object on my neck and shoulders.

'This collar will remain on you for your entire life. It can never be removed and you will take care to keep it clean and polished every day.'

Then to my horror the woman controller threw the key away down a steep bank onto a huge pile of rusting metal. I stared down the slope and realised to my horror that this pile consisted of a deep pile of small iron keys, thousands of them, streaked in rust and slowly decaying in a pool of rusty slush. I realised then that I was about to begin a journey that thousands of Barstock males had taken before, and I felt a strange mix of terror, mixed with a strange comfort that I was not alone.

Looking back now, it is difficult to imagine life without a collar. The familiar sensations of pressure as it changes position around my neck and shoulders as I move are a constant reminder of my status as a boy husband.

I stared at the concrete floor for a moment, feeling the collar pulling at the back of my neck. The woman controller clipped a chain lead onto the front of he collar and in silence led me across a vast empty room to a door marked 'coupling suite'. Inside the room I was made to kneel on a small leather covered stall and face a curved row of 12 chairs, each occupied by a young woman, all smartly dressed in charcoal wool suits, like executives at a spring conference. Standing at the front holding a long cane was another woman, with her hair tightly drawn up into a bun.

'You boy are to be chosen. When this is done you become a possession of your wife controller, and no longer the responsibility of the State. Your wife controller will give you an obedience mandate which will detail how you will behave. The State will then train you. This will take two years. Then you will be discharged into the care of your wife controller. Do you understand?'

I am not sure at the time that I really understood anything that was said to me. I recall thinking that the collar was very heavy and made my neck ache. I also remember thinking how pleasant a woman's feet look in stockings and stilettos. Something stirred deep within me as I looked at the neat row of feet sat passively on the chairs in front of me. I nodded, more out of a wish to avoid any unpleasantness than anything else.

'Ladies....you may examine the frame'.

I knelt, not daring to move as these twelve women moved around me, poking and prodding, looking into my mouth and ears, and gripping my arm, as you would a peach to check for ripeness. After 20 minutes the women retired in a huddle and spoke in hushed whispers for 20 minutes. A woman controller eventually came back into room and asked the ladies to return to their seats.

"Now ladies. Bids please. Who will start at 40. A hand shot up. A plump slightly over-eager woman with beady eyes. 50 shouted another blonde woman, 60, 70, 80. Most of the women bid until at 450 the bidding settled down to two women, both tall, one with short dark hair and dark Bible black eyes, the other with long blonde hair pulled back loosely into a pony tail with a long plait. Most boys were sold at between 400 and 600, with some reaching 700 if they were exceptionally beautiful, or if there were two or more wealthy women in the audience. At 520 the bid lay with the blonde woman, and as the hammer went down.

I realised that in the short time I had been in Focus I had been collared permanently, paraded, examined and sold. Only in retrospect have I come to realise how extraordinarily humiliating the whole process was, and how the whole episode appeared to be carried out without any consideration at all for my feelings.

The other women left the chamber and my new owner approached me. She looked at me closely for a few moments and then whispered.:-

'You will join me in 2 years as a personal domestic husband . Now learn well. I will be following your progress with interest. My name is Tenta Pold, you are to be known as Lemor, and you will call me Wife Controller. Do you understand Lemor? I nodded , but dared not make eye contact.

As she turned to leave she gestured casually to my genitals and said to the woman controller:- 'These will not be necessary, remove them forthwith', and then she was gone.

After everyone had left I remained kneeling on the leather stool in total silence. The lights were turned out and I remained cold and alone in total darkness for an eternity, eventually finding myself nodding off and trying not to fall off the stool. Eventually when I awoke I found myself curled up under the stool in the foetal position having succumbed to the need to sleep. My first day in Focus had certainly been eventful. The brilliance ceiling flickered into life and bathed everything in a familiar bright white light

2.The Teachings.

A woman controller entered the room and taking hold of my lead led me from the coupling suite outside across a small open square to the Barstock Male Configuration Centre. I was led to into a small room marked pre-op and told to shower and dry myself. The warm water was a great relief and the first act of kindness or comfort that I had experienced since my arrival. I spent several minutes with my eyes closed and my head back just letting the warm spray cover my head and shoulders, making me feel clean and relaxed. Eventually the water stopped and I dried myself with a pile of warm towels laid out on an adjacent table.

The Controller came back into the room, looked me up and down and then led me down the corridor into a larger white room. There were two women standing here on either side of a marble slab both wearing surgical masks and green hospital scrubs. The controller led me to the table and I was helped up and gently laid on my back. I had never experienced such kindness and consideration before. Two stirrups were lowered from the ceiling and strapped around each leg, and each stirrup was then pulled to each side causing me to open my legs and expose my genitals. The stirrups were then raised pulling my bottom off of the slab.

"This coupled male is about to start Year 1 domestic. The owner requires blanking', and the Controller then left.

I could hear the doctors gossiping to themselves happily about a colleague as I felt a small needle prick in my penis, and then each testicle. After 20 minutes everything became numb, and I drifted off to sleep, I think. When I awoke I was in a bed strapped down by my arms and legs

unable to move. There was a dull ache between my legs and I felt somehow quite tearful and shaky, but did not quite know why.

A week later, though still a little sore I was able to get about without support, and discovered that going for a pee now required me to sit down as I had nothing to get hold of to assist my aim. I remember a nurse mopping my brow and saying to me at the time:

'You won't miss it little one. Trust me.'

I still felt tearful and strangely helpless, but my strength gradually returned, and after two weeks I was collected and taken to start my formal domestic training.

That all seemed a long time ago now. Yesterday I have completed three years with my wife controller, and I can honestly say that I have never been happier or more fulfilled. I now have 3 privileges and treasure them. If I am good I may get four, which would be just amazing. They make me happy and proud and I start and finish each long day with a profound senses of satisfaction. But it was not like this when I was first collected, God no. Two years ago things were very very different.

Collection day is always a special day at Focus. There is always a great deal of fussing in the preceding days to ensure that the Collecting Arena is neat and tidy and perfectly prepared for the ceremony. Dozens of male trainees run around sweeping and polishing and mowing the lawns. Flowerbeds are dug and planted with neat rows of hyacinths and all manner of bright and beautiful flowers, begonias, petunias and thousands of pink carnations. The 'pre-collected' males are of course nowhere to be seen. They are deep in the heart of Focus, where they have been locked away for the final six months of their training.

This final six months is known as Terror Enlightenment or 'Finals'. It is by far the most intense period in a male's transformation and is individually tailored to each male, focusing on their skill sets, their emotional weaknesses and their most terrifying inner fears. The Finals Controllers are quite brilliant at this.

Only the most talented and experienced controllers make it to Finals and they bring with them a dedication and attention to detail that is simply awesome. They create an atmosphere of complete terror which intensifies over the entire six-month period, and is quite remarkable to experience. It is almost spiritual in it's intensity, and impossible to resist.

In many ways all the years up to Finals are merely a rehearsal for the trials that this last six months put a male through. The psychological model is in fact quite simple. Each male has in the preceding years demonstrated at various times certain traits in their character and personality. These have been carefully noted and sub-divided into two areas:- skills and emotions.

The controllers look carefully at each male and through a careful study of their records devise a programme that aims to maximise their skill sets so that they function as perfect husbands for their wife controllers. To create husbands that will consistently perform at the highest level for a sustainable period of time, and in perfect contentment, it is necessary to manipulate their minds. This is the job of the Finals commanders, and is executed in two distinct phases. Firstly, by creating a series of scenarios that expose each male to their most terrifying inner fears over and over again, until they are completely broken. Then, when this has been achieved the males are at their most vulnerable, lost confused and completely helpless. They desperately seek some direction, something to cling onto, emotionally, psychologically and physically that will give them some hope. This is when their allotted Commander really gets to work on the male by guiding him back to a new reality where they can exist happily without fear, panic and desperation. It is extraordinary to watch this process. The males are led back into a reality based on total obedience not by force,, but simply because it provides them with their only possible route out of the black hole of terrified confusion. The alternative is an endless continuation of confusion and terror.

When I arrived in Finals my controllers decided to focus on two main areas with me. My fear of rejection, and my need to constantly seek assurance that everything was ok. I had no idea how far I would be pushed and how complete would be my psychological disintegration during the first 6 months in Finals. It started, as with all things in Bostock, quietly, calmly and without drama or fuss.

I was taken down to Finals in silence, made to strip, led to a tiny cell, 3ft wide and 6ft long and four feet high. I had to crawl in before the door was locked behind me, and then I was left, in complete isolation for 3 weeks. I was completely terrified, and my voice became hoarse from constant screaming.

Occasionally a warm dribble of food oozed from the grill on the ceiling and I had to use my fingers and tongue to lick it up from the bars and from the floor. In the corner was a hole which took away all the waste from the cell. A distant very dim light allowed me to make out the concrete walls. That was it.

After an eternity, the door suddenly opened and I was pulled out by my hair and showered, again in complete silence, and then frog-marched by two Controllers into a room and dropped onto the floor. Two chains with cuffs attached were lowered from the ceiling and attached to my wrists. My legs were pulled apart as far as they would go and attached to two cuffs attached to chains that ran from each side of the room. These were then pulled even tighter until I felt the muscles at top of my thighs begin to tear. The chains in the ceiling were pulled taut until I resembled a star.