3. Mexico

I cannot tell very much about my ride down to Mexico. Once my parents had left the room, I was told to undress and then a leather hood was pulled down over my head. My arms were put in some kind of leather muff, which had straps going to cuffs on my upper arms - Needless to say that I was totally in their control. They also put a pair of odd-feeling trousers on me, which I later discovered was a diaper.

I have seen books about boot camps before. They are hard and this camp was no exception. Once arrived, I was given an enema and a corset looking outfit with leather cuffs on both my upper and lower arms. The outfit was completed with a posture collar and a bit-gag. They had some kind of a level system and I started at the bottom as mule. It took me 40 days to graduate from this awful place, but I was lucky. I was never put on challenge. I just played along and in some way fooled my way out of there. The transport firm gave me a new ride to my next destination, which was a wilderness therapy program in Utah.

I remember how, once the transport company had turned me over to the staff, I was blindfold and placed in a circle of other participants, who had some kind of ritual. I can only remember the hunger and thirst I had to endure for 7 weeks, but finally I was able to return home. 4. Too much control

When I returned home, the court ordered me to wear an electronic alcohol detector a bracelet on my food, which detected my sweat every 30 minutes all year.

In the start I managed, but time only progressed slowly and soon I did not care about anything. So I drank and it was discovered. My parents cried in court. I had only a year left before I was adult. The judge could see that my parents were committed to heal my health problem, so the court ordered me to join the new community based transport program, which had been in function for just a 6 years. Our present president who had managed to turn her life around 47 years ago, had now been elected for her third period setting aside the 22nd amendment due to her extraordinary service of restoring morality in our country.

My parents were given a transportable stable, which was placed in the driveway. Every morning they would come out and give me breakfast and an enema before giving me a harness, a butt-plug with tail, special shoes which left hoof-marks and bit-gag on before hooking me up to a cart. One of them often my mom would then drive the cart with me pulling it down to the city hall, where I sometime would enter the role of a taxi or being assigned to a larger cart and function as a van. I can remember one time when I was put in yoke of 10 teenagers. It was difficult and we were whipped very hard to pull whatever load they had put in.

I liked the cab-job but I missed my school. I like the rest only worked part-time and was home-schooled in the stable. I felt isolated because there was no room for talking with the other teenagers. We all had bit-gags in our mouth and we got only water during the day from a kind of can looking like those you have in rabbit-cages.

So one night just a few weeks ago I choose to runaway instead of taking the test. If I passed the test, I had to wear the bracelet for a further 3 years. If I during these three years would drink alcohol the punishment would be 19 years of full-time service in the transport program. I would not be able to live home but in a stable down at the city hall. They would pull teeth out so they could fit a permanent bit-gag made of steel. I would be almost 30 before I would be free. I could not live like that, so I ran.

But before I could flee the States I was caught. Like almost any youth, I tried to go to Canada where I could travel to Europe where they had no alcohol limit. For some reason they had chosen another strategy in Europe. My cousin from Denmark told me in an email, that they had no lower legal age for drinking alcohol and a 19-year limit on buying alcohol. She even had obtained the license every Dane aged 19 can buy so they can show that they are allowed to buy alcohol on their own. Anyway, because most runaways were going for Canada, the authorities also knew where to find me. I was taken back and faced the court for a final time.

I was given three choices:

1. Signing on for transport service until I was 21 years under restricted conditions 2. Taking the test at once. 3. Taking the exit plan.

Restricted conditions meant that I had to wear a harness, which were made for me to wear all time. I would get a permanent bit and loose some teeth. Due to that I would have to live on liquid food for the next three years and I would have to endure further three years with daily enemas. I had seen the eyes of people, who were serving long-time in the transport service. Their eyes looked empty, as they had no spirit. This was not an option for me.

Then there was the adulthood test. It was known to be a hard test where only about 6 out of 10 passed. If I failed, the result would be the same as the exit plan. I just gave up and choose the latter. Yesterday was my birthday and Kathy was my present.

So now I am here. I can here them coming so I have to end now.

Best of luck

Stephen

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