Heaven to Hell

Have you ever thought about heaven? They do say that the Catholic Church denies the existence of Hell, just admitting that there may be purgatory awaiting lost souls. Whatever you may, or may not, believe; you can experience Hell on Earth.

Charlie Phillips was almost in heaven. He found, in his teenage years, that he liked little boys, especially pretty little boys. He skated on several areas of thin ice before he found his calling and was admitted to a seminary. For him, he thought, there would be an almost endless procession of pretty boys in his future.

He managed to keep himself in check until he was sent out to a parish in metropolitan Sydney in the time before revelations of paedophile priests rocked the church. Of course, he dabbled and it was not long before his activities came to the attention of his Arch-Bishop. Now, in those days it was not done to expose any more children to such sinful behaviour but, even more important, it was not done to expose the priest, even one in training.

Charlie was sent to a regional parish in country New South Wales in a typical ‘out of sight, out of mind’ action. You would have thought that Charlie would have taken the hint, but no, he could not stop his buggering. He may have supposedly been a man of God but he certainly was not a good man.

Once again he came to the attention of his local Bishop but this was one who would not follow the accepted practises and he summoned Charlie to his residence. The Bishop was adamant, Charlie had to go. He gave Charlie a week to set his affairs in order and told him that an upright supporter of the church had donated a one-way ticket to wherever Charlie wanted to go, as long as it was out of the country. Of course, Charlie chose that haven of paedophiles, the Asian country of Thailand, where they even had a system where ‘ladyboys’ were part of the culture. They were called Kathoey and he would never have been able to afford a trip there himself to sample their wares.

Charlie was given his ticket, packed his bags, said cheerio to his Bishop and took a coach back to Sydney to catch his flight. When he landed at Bangkok he walked out of the airport and took a handy taxi. The driver took him to a hotel where he was told he would be well looked after as the driver said that it was a popular place to pick up ‘ladyboys’. He was shown a room and, because of the oppressive heat, took a swig from the bottle of water he found in the small refrigerator. Feeling tired from his flight, he lay on the bed and went into a very, very, deep sleep.

When he woke he felt different, very different. He opened his eyes to see a white ceiling and, in his peripheral vision, various pieces of equipment that he thought looked like they should be in a hospital. He went to rub his eyes and found that, because of the handcuffs that he was attached to, he couldn’t. He lay and tried to understand why he was there and could only remember the hotel bed on a hot day. At least, he thought, this room was cooled.

He heard the door open and a Thai man in doctors scrubs loomed over him. He said “Ah, Mister Phillips, you are awake at last. You have had a very long sleep, about two months I am afraid. It took that time to rework your features to conform to your new career. The nurse will provide you with some liquid sustenance for a couple of days and then we will remove the catheter and you will be able to leave our establishment. Someone will come to take you away and I am sorry to tell you that this may be the last time you will be relaxed and your own person. I may visit you to try you out when you are settled in your new home.” Before he left he said “By the way, you are no longer Charlie Phillips, your new name is Chailai, it means pretty and I do believe I achieved that outcome for you.”

For the next few days he came to realise that the doctor had been correct in his statement. He had been unconscious for more than two months and he nearly fainted the first time the nurse held a mirror for him to see himself. He had been given an Asian look, with his eyes pulled wide and his nose reworked into a little button. His lips were full and he had a full hear of black hair. He had been turned into a girl.

Actually, when they took the catheter out, he found that he was not a full girl but now was a ladyboy. The first time he was given a shower he was upset to find that he no longer had testicles and he had been given generous breasts to go with his feminine face. The next day he was washed and dressed in a cotton shift and forced to sit in a chair with his wrists handcuffed behind his back.

Eventually the door opened and a large, European, man came in, accompanied by a small Asian woman. “Ah, Chailai, you are ready. This is Phawta and she will be the only person you will be allowed to speak to other than your customers. Any deviation from the rule will result in punishment. You have this opportunity to ask a question or two.”

Chailai had to ask “Who are you, why am I here and why have you done this to me?” The man laughed and said “I am the father of one of the boys you buggered, not long before you were shipped here. The one thing you never bothered to find out about when you arrived in our little town was how we were so well off. The answer to that, of course, are drugs which we grow and that means we have connections. One of my connections brought you here and changed you.”

“My son will recover but I am afraid that you may not. Your future will be living in a ladyboy brothel and we think that you will recoup the cost of getting you to look so pretty in only a few months. After that you will be pure profit for as long as you retain your looks and your skills. I am happy to tell you that you may well be buggered several times a day for the foreseeable future and, when we get you settled in, I will be the first of many.”

He was given an injection that made him compliant and was taken out of the clinic and into a waiting car. At a seedy looking house in an even seedier part of Bangkok he was taken to an upper room by a very large and fierce looking Asian man. The European told him that this was Sirichai, his jailer, and any transgression would mean that Sirichai would hurt him, the worse the transgression, the greater the hurt. And also that he would be the personal repository of Sirichais’ seed until he was able to be with customers again.

That evening the European came to his room and forced Chailai to give him a blow job and then, after that Sirichai visited and showed him that he was now, indeed, their sex slave. In the years that followed he made the brothel a lot of money and lost any thought of getting away, the few times he had tried had caused him much pain and suffering. He was in his version of Hell and, in the end, he begged a particularly violent customer to strangle him as he was being buggered. The customer was charged a little extra for the service but Chailai was left by the side of a canal to be picked up by the police and burned as another dead, well used, ladyboy with no name.

Marianne G 2921