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From: zelamir@hotmail.com
Subject: Into Care Part 2 (M/bb cp hum enema)
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This story involves the abuse both sexual and physical of
young boys by men.    If you don't like this sort of story please
do not read it.  It is unsuitable for children.    Any comments
please to zelamir @ hotmail.com

"Strip boy or do you want Joe to hold you while Matron takes
your clothes off for you."

Hastily Nicky removed his clothes and then stood to face the
principal.   He made no attempt to cover himself  with his
hands.   He remembered how  such demonstrations of modesty
had annoyed Brian  and he assumed that Mr Adams would be
similarly effected.

"Fold those clothes up neatly boy.   This is my study not a
rubbish dump."

Watched by the three adults Nicky had to kneel on the carpet
and tidy his clothes up.   When he was back on his feet Mr
Adams turned to the Matron.

"It  is my intention to give this boy twenty four strokes of the
cane, twelve this evening and twelve tomorrow morning.   In
your professional opinion Matron is the boy  in a condition to
take twelve strokes now."

"He's a perfectly healthy little animal Principal.   In my
opinion you could safely inflict all twenty four stroke on him
now.   But you are always very kind to the boys."

"I think Matron it would be as well to postpone half the
punishment till tomorrow morning.   It will give the boy
something to think about overnight.   It will keep his mind
clear of unhealthy thoughts."

Mr Adams took a cushion from one of the easy chairs and
placed it at one end of the desk.

"Now over the end of the desk there boy.   Bottom right up in
the air.   I want the skin nice and taught.  Put your hands  out
along the desk.   Matron if you would be good enough to hold
the boy's hands.   Thank you."

"Now boy you can see how considerate we are here at
Ovingdean House.   Most people when punishing a boy
require him to remain in position until the end of the
punishment  or face having the beating start from the
beginning again.  But I know very well that I'm going to hurt
you so much that you would not have a chance of staying
down by yourself.  You should be very grateful to Matron for
her kindness in holding you in place.   Again it is usual to
require the boy to count the strokes  and to say 'thank you Sir'
after each one.  I don't require you to do that because I know
that long before I've finished with you you'll be incapable of
counting or even speaking.   By the time I've finished
thrashing you tonight all you will be capable of doing is
feeling pain and perhaps screaming."

Nicky lay across the desk his bare bottom raised and taught
ready for the cane.   It was a position with which he was all
too familiar.   His Dad and increasingly his Mum had often
required him to offer his bare rump for punishment.   But
although the position was a familiar one the terror and
humiliation he now felt was altogether greater.  He loved his
Mum and his Dad, even if he had come  also to fear them a
little.   He  knew that they cared for him and that they hurt him
because they cared for him.  When they beat him it was for his
own good, to make him a better boy.   They had told him so
often. Sometimes they hurt him a great deal and he would cry
and whimper as the cane raised weals across his bare flesh but
even as he suffered he knew that when  the punishment was
over he would be forgiven.    He would be cuddled and
comforted.    His tears wiped away.  His nose blown and
wiped clean.

This time was it was very different.  These people cared
nothing for him.  Mr Adams was going to beat him, not
because he cared about him, but because he thought of him as
an animal to be tormented, hurt and broken.   Joe had been
cruel and unjust to him on the journey down and he was sure
would be so again.    As for the Matron, with her strange
unfeeling staring eyes, who had looked at him as though he
was not a life feeling creature but a slab of meat, he knew he
would look in vain for cuddles or sympathy from her.

He felt the touch of the cane against his bare flesh.  He tensed.
Mr Adams was measuring his distance.    It would not be long
before he began.

"Hold that boy's hands tight now Matron," the Principle
ordered.

The cane hissed down and cracked across Nicky's unprotected
flesh.
The pain drove the breath out of his body.  He fought for air as
the man stood over him waiting for the spasm to pass.

A second time the cane slashed down.    Nicky screamed as
the pain tore through him.  Another pause.

"You always make them scream really loudly Principal,"
Matron remarked admiringly.

"Yes I want his cries to be heard all over the building.   It has
a good effect on the other boys."

The beating resumed.  The sound of wood striking bare flesh,
the screams of the tortured boy, the drumming of his bare feet
on the floor as he leapt and writhed in his agony filled the
room.  Mr Adams worked his way steadily from the top of
Nicky's bum downwards to the top of his thighs, each stroke
placed neatly parallel to the preceding one.   At last the
beating was almost over.   The man stood back to admire his
work.   He was, as he often remarked, a craftsman and  took a
pride in a job well done.    The boy's backside was  covered
with bruises, scarlet blending into deep red and deepening to
purple and dark blue.

Slightly changing his stance he delivered the final two blows
diagonally across Nicky's already ravaged flesh.   The boy's
screams reached a fresh crescendo.

"I doubt if there's a boy in the place who didn't her that," Mr
Adams said with satisfaction.

Matron let go her grip of Nicky's hands.   The boy sank
sobbing to the floor  at  Mr Adam's feet.

"Joe," Mr Adams said briskly, "get that disgusting little animal
out of here.   Put him in the reception dormitory."

"Matron I want him here tomorrow morning at nine thirty
sharp to receive the balance of his punishment."

Joe grabbed Nicky by his arm and hauled him to his feet.  He
half marched half carried the whimpering boy from the room,
across the great hall, through a green baize door and along a
dark cold corridor .
He stopped outside a plain wooden door with a heavy metal
bolt.  He swung it open and to reveal a small windowless
room which smelt strongly of stale urine.   On it's stone
flagged floor was a thin mattress with a couple of brown
grubby looking blankets.   The only light came through the
open door.

Joe pushed Nicky down onto the mattress and roughly spread
the blankets over him.   Without a word he turned and left the
room.   He slammed the door shut leaving the boy in total
darkness.  Nicky heard him shoot the bolt home.

Nicky lay there crying quietly.   Perhaps the man was right.
Perhaps it was all his fault.   Perhaps he was an evil wicked
boy.   Why else was he here and been treated so cruelly.
"How my bottom hurts", he thought and then "I've got the
same again tomorrow."   He cried with redoubled vigour.


----------


Nicky was awake.  Huddled in the blankets he could feel the
mattress damp underneath him.   He had no idea what the time
was.

The door swung open and daylight filtered into the squalid
room.

"Come on out of there," Joe shouted.    "You've got an
appointment with Mr Adams in an hour and you've got to be
cleaned up before then."

Joe came right into the room and wrinkled his nose

"God you are filthy little  animals the lot of you .   Come on
dirt get up when you're told."

The man kicked the mattress on which Nicky lay.

The boy pulled himself painfully to his feet.   Joe grabbed him
by the arm above the elbow gripping him so hard that he cried
out.

Once again Nicky was marched along a series of comfortless
corridors.   Every now and again they met young boys, all
were dressed in the home's uniform of thin T-shirt and shorts,
all appeared cowed and frightened, all pressed themselves
back against the walls to allow Joe to pass.

Eventually they went down a flight of concrete steps into a
large room.   Down the centre stood a double line of baths
while along both walls were a series of showers.

Joe switched on one shower and pushed Nicky under it.   The
boy gasped as the hot water stung his skin.   Joe produced a
block of  soap that smelt strongly of disinfectant and ordered
Nicky to clean himself up.   The man stood watching as the
boy soaped himself down.

"And your bottom too pig shit," he ordered.

"Sir, please Sir it's sore," Nicky pleaded.

"'Sir, please Sir it's sore Sir,"  Joe imitated the boy's voice
derisively.   "It's going to be a bloody sight sorer in short order
and it'll be sorer still if you don't clean it up.   Mr Adams won't
tolerate a boy who presents him with a dirty bottom for
punishment.   Now come on - or do I have to get in there and
clean it for you?"

Gingerly the Nicky obeyed.   When at last Joe was satisfied he
took the still damp boy  back though the house.   They passed
through the clean baize door and Nicky realised he was back
in the hall where he had first entered the house the previous
evening.  It was a vast room  dimly lit by   mock gothic stained
glass windows set high in the walls.   In a line along one wall
next to the door to the Principles study stood half a dozen
boys.  All stood facing the wall, hands by their sides.   All
wore the regulation Ovingdean House T-shirt and nothing
else.  Some of their bottoms Nicky could see seemed to be
unmarked, most however bore the marks of recent beatings.
As they approached the boys remained staring at the wall
although Nicky thought he detected a ripple of apprehension
pass along the line.

Joe lead the boy to the end of the line furthest from Mr
Adams' study.

"Stand there, face the wall, don't look round.   Matron will be
here in a few minutes and then the fun will begin."

He landed a hard slap with the flat of his hand on the boy's
sore rump causing Nicky  to squeal.

Eventually Nicky heard the sharp clip of a woman's leather
soled shoes approaching.  Two of the boys began to cry.   He
cowered against the wall his gaze fixed resolutely forwards.
Matron passed him without pausing.  There was a sound of an
open palm striking bare flesh.

"Stop that stupid caterwauling," the Matron ordered as she
went into the Principals study.   "You will all have plenty to
cry about soon enough."

A minute or two later she came back out into the hall.

"All right.   Into the study and line up facing the desk."

Mr Adams was standing by his desk the cane  in  hand.   Nicky
noticed the pillow was already in its place on the edge of the
desk.

" First boy step forward."

A dark haired boy from the far end of the line came forward to
stand beside the desk.   He moved slowly and clumsily as if
only partly in control of his limbs.   Nicky could see even from
where he was standing that he was trembling.

"Sims.   Principal," the Matron said reading from a black
notebook she held in her hands.   "Sheets found to be stained
this morning."

"Abusing yourself eh? filthy little beast.     All you boys are
the same;   just animals, animals the lot of you;  no brains, no
self control, nothing.    Well I'm going to teach you a lesson
you won't forget.  It's no good trying to appeal to your
conscience, to your sense of right and wrong.   You boys are
trash  you don't have consciences. You can't tell the difference
from right and wrong.  But  you've got backsides and I'm going
to write such a lesson on your  backside  that you'll remember
it to the day you die."

"Please Sir...it was an accident Sir."

"It was self abuse.   If  I say it was self abuse - it was self
abuse you insolent brat.     I shall give you twelve strokes now
and twelve strokes this evening."

"Matron make a note.   See that Sims is here again this
evening for twelve further strokes."

" Get down boy."

"Matron hold Sims tight.   I'm going to flog him hard."

Nicky watched horrified as Mr Adams raised the cane high
over his right shoulder and brought it crashing down across
the boys defenceless bottom with sickening force.

The cane rose and fell with remorseless regularity as the boys
shrill  screams increased in volume and urgency.

Nicky glanced down the line of watching boys    Fear, horror
and  excitement marked their faces.

At last Sims's flogging was over.   The sobbing boy was sent
back to stand in line with the other lads.   One by one the boys
were called forward to suffer the consequences of their
juvenile faults.   Running in the corridor,  loitering in the
corridor, idleness, slovenliness,  impertinence, none seemed
too serious.   All were punished by beatings of the utmost
ferocity as Mr Adams laboured at his self appointed task of
seeing that the agonised screams of his victims should
penetrate to the furthest recesses of  Ovingdean Hall.

Finally it was Nicky's turn once again to bend down across the
desk and feel the cruel bight of the rod.   Numbly he moved
forward.

"Ah," Mr Adams said.   "While I always prefer to see the
results of my handiwork as a beating proceeds there are
occasions when aesthetic considerations have to give ways to
practical ones.   I do not wish on this occasion to split the skin
of this boy's bottom.   Matron soak a napkin in cold water and
spread it over the brats rump.   That should prevent my
bloodying it and will not appreciably diminish the pain that it
is my intention to inflict on him."

Nicky started at the feel of the cold damp cloth against his
bare skin.  Mr Adams measured his distance carefully.   Nicky
tensed himself in readiness for the first cut.   He knew there
was no escape and no point in pleading for mercy.  All he
could do was to suffer and suffer he did.    He soon ceased to
be able to distinguish between the pain of the different strokes
as the cane cracked down across his bottom.   All he was
aware of was an agony that seemed to consume his whole
body.   Vaguely, as though at a great distance, he heard the
sound of his own screams echoing in his head.

Then he heard Mr Adams saying "get up boy" and found
himself being pulled to his feet by matron.

"Boys," Mr Adams said,   "that is all for the moment.   I hope
you are all duly grateful for the time and effort I have spent
trying to teach you obedience and respect for your betters.  I
have no doubt that I will be obliged to give you all similar
lessons  again in the not too distant future."

"Sims I would remind you that you have another appointment
with me this evening."

"You will all now go immediately to your appointed duties.  I
will personally flog any boy who is caught loitering."

"Matron, I believe you have a further procedure to inflict on
that brat you're holding."

"Dismissed."

The whimpering boys jostled each other in their eagerness to
escape from Mr Adams and his cruel cane.

-------

Matron lead Nicky to a door marked "Sick Bay".    Inside the
room stood a uniformed policeman.

"Good afternoon Sergeant Nicholls," Matron said.

"After noon Matron," the man replied.   "This is the new boy is
it?" he continued.   "   I heard  you had a fresh boy here and I
just came down now to have my usual word with him."

"Well  Sergeant I was just about to complete his induction
process.   You know we like to see the boys have all their
sordid outside associations destroyed before we admit them
fully into the community.   We want them cleansed physically
and if at all possible mentally.  This boy has been bathed and
now it is time to clean him out internally.   If you would wait
just a second while I administer the enema you can talk to him
while he holds it in.   You won't take more than five minutes
will you?"

"No not more then five minutes.   I must say  the efforts you
and Mr Adams and the other staff here make to bring
discipline and control into these boys' lives always impresses
me.   It must often be a thankless and difficult task in view of
the low calibre of the boys."

"Yes, sweepings of the gutter is what we get here," the Matron
said grimly,  "invariably mentally, morally and physically
degenerate.    Take this one, sent here for protection from his
father, but you know what that really means, the brat's a
natural little whore.  Led the man on."

As she was speaking Matron busied herself  placing things on
a small table that stood by  armless hard backed chair.  A
strange syringe shaped object with metal nozzle, a jar of
Vaseline and an enamel bowl which she filled with warm
soapy water.   She pulled on a rubber apron and sat down on
the chair.

"Come here you," she commanded Nicky.   "face down over
my knees.   Quick now.   Legs apart.   Relax would you.   I'm
quite prepared to do this without the Vaseline if you don't
co-operate.   It won't hurt me."

"Now stay like that.   For heavens sake what  a fuss.  In it
goes.   There we are."

"Now back on your feet and listen to what Sergeant Nicholls
has to say to you and don't let a drop out till I say you can or
it'll be another session with Mr Adams and his cane."

She tipped Nicky back onto his feet.  She smiled as she saw
the boy, no doubt feeling the pressure inside him, clench his
little bottom as tight as he could.

"Right boy," the Sergeant said ponderously, "I just want you to
know that we all round here fully support Mr Adams in the
way he runs this home.  You boys are all delinquents and need
strong discipline and I'm glad to see from the bruises on your
bottom that you've had a taste of that already.   Why are you
fidgeting about boy?"

"Sir, please Sir, I want to go to the toilet Sir.   Please."

"You'll have to wait until I have finished speaking to you.
Now let me see where was I?  Ah yes.   Don't think you will
get any help or sympathy if you come to us with any
complaints about your treatment.  If any es complain and boys
have been foolish enough to do so in the past, we simply
inform Mr Adams and leave him to deal with the matter.   I
don't think any boy has complained more than once.   Do you
know of an instance Matron?"

"No I do not Mr Nicholls.   Do stop fidgeting about like hat
boy.   Pay attention to what the Sergeant is saying."

Matron noticed that Nicky was now holding onto the back of
his bottom with both hands.   She smiled to herself.   This was
the part of the induction process that she always found the
most entertaining.

"Further more," the policeman continued, "should you run
away from this place you can be quite sure that you will be
caught and returned to Mr Adams.   Even if you get outside
my police area the police force that does finally apprehend
you will return you to us and we will pass you on to Mr
Adams.  Do you understand boy?"

"Yes Sir.   Please Sir can I go to the toilet now Sir?   I can't
hold it in much longer Sir."

"You'll have to ask Matron boy.   That's her business not
mine."

"Matron please Matron?"

"Yes go on.   Use the toilet over there," Matron said indicating
a door- less cubicle in a corner of the sick bay.

As Nicky dashed towards it he heard the two adults laughing
at him.

"Come on out of there,"  Matron called after a couple of
minutes, "this isn't a holiday camp."

She had ready for Nicky the shorts and T-shirt which formed
the uniform for the boys of Ovingdean House.

"Could you do me favour Mr  Nicholls?" she asked as the boy
hastily dressed himself.    " Take this boy down to the lodge
and hand him over to the Head Gardener.   He's to start off
working for him."

"Matron, please, could I have something to eat please?" Nicky
whined.  "I haven't had anything since.....Ow."

The woman landed a ringing blow on the side of his head with
her fist.

"You talk when you are spoken to and not otherwise." she
snapped.  "You'll get some food when you've earned it.   The
rule here is no work no food.   Now please take him away Mr
Nicholls before I get really rough with him."

--------

Half an four later Nicky was busy weeding a rose bed.   Any
one looking at him would have thought that he had accepted
his fate.  But as he  worked between the bushes he was trying
desperately to think of a way to escape.  All he could think of
was to get to a telephone.  If he could do that he could
telephone his Dad, he knew their home number off by heart,
and he was sure Brian would come and help him.  But he
hadn't noticed a telephone  anywhere in Ovingdean House.
Almost certainly there was one in Mr Adams's study but he
didn't think it was likely he would find a chance to use that.
He just had to wait, try to keep out, of trouble and keep his
eyes open.

-------------

Brian was sweating.  It wasn't the heat although the small
office was warm enough with the three men crowded into it.
It was fear.  He couldn't understand what was happening.
Perhaps on reflection  he had been a little too rough with the
two boys but he had never done any thing else but discipline
them.   He liked them both but it was no more than the
perfectly proper affection that a father felt for his sons.

"I tell you," he said desperately, "I never touched Nicky in that
way."

"And I tell you Mr Roberts," Detective  Inspector Samson
replied grimly, "that we have two independent medical reports
that state Nicky has been sexually assaulted over a long period
of time.   If it wasn't you who was responsible - who was it?"

"The other boy?  Adam," Brian suggested reluctantly.

"No boy did what's been done to your stepson," Dr Butler said.

"Look here Mr Roberts," the policeman said leaning forward
and speaking earnestly, "I'm not pretending we have a cast
iron case against you.  If we did we would not be having this
conversation.  You would be in the cells awaiting trial.  For
one thing Nicholas will not say who has done these things to
him.  However the circumstantial evidence is strong and if you
give us no choice we will prosecute."

"If we do and fail to get a conviction your reputation will be
tarnished.  I think it unlikely that your wife would be able to
stand the heat and we would anyway see that Adam was put
on the at risk register  so that you and she, if she remained
with you, would be subject to constant supervision.   That is
the best case scenario from your point of view."

"If we succeeded in our prosecution you would face a prison
sentence of about six years and paedophiles do not have a
pleasant time in goal.  Again I would think it likely your wife
would leave you.   You would certainly loose any contact with
Adam.  Furthermore when you came out of prison you would
have to place your name on the sex offenders register and we
in the police would keep a close watch on you and would
consider it our duty to inform your neighbours where ever you
may move of your conviction, as under the law we are
authorised to do."

"Our  primary interest in this case is the welfare of your
stepson.   It seems clear to us that it is in his own best interest
that he is removed  from your care.  In view of the
comparative weakness of the case against you we are prepared
not to prosecute if you will give us your written agreement to
his being taken into care."

"I just haven't touched the boy in that sort of way," Brian said
unhappily.

"Mr Roberts," Dr Butler intervened, "if you did not abuse that
boy somebody else did.   That boy knows you are under
suspicion but he chooses not to clear you by naming that other
person.   There are two points I would put to you.   First, in
that event would it not be as well to get Nicholas away from
who ever is abusing him and since we do not know who that is
and he will not say, would not the sensible solution be to have
him taken into care.   Second, if he prefers to protect the man
who is abusing him to clearing you from a very grave
suspicion that could lead to you spending a considerable time
in prison do you really want to risk your liberty  and reputation
to bring him back here."

"It just sounds so unlike Nicky,"  Brian protested.   "Well I did
not abuse him so some one else did.  As you say perhaps it
would be best for everybody if he is kept away from here.
Where's that document you want me to sign."

"It simply says," Detective Inspector Samson explained
pushing a single sheet of A4 across the desk to Brian, "that
you accept that Nicholas's best interests are served by his
being taken into care.   It in no way incriminates you."

It was Brian's intention to sign the paper with a flourish and
storm out of the office.   Like so many dramatic gestures it
didn't quite come off.

"Can one of you lend me a pen?" he asked.

----------

"You see Andrew," the Minister said, "it is difficult.   I care
for those boys, for each individual one of them.   But once a
boy begins to gets much beyond fourteen, well, I loose
interest.   I can't help it.   It's just the way I am.   It means that
at the most any relationship I have can only last four years and
then I have to find a replacement."

Dr Butler sighed and tried to look interested.  He couldn't
remember how often he had heard this conversation in the
past.   The first time he supposed must have been some thirty
years ago when he was fourteen and Matthew Ellis the
Captain of Rugby, now a Minister of the Crown with a seat in
the cabinet and hope of a really important ministry after the
next reshuffle, was explaining he loved another.   Some how
they remained friends and the price of this friendship so far as
Dr Butler was concerned was to have to listen to this
particular monologue every so often.  He occupied his mind
by glancing round the room trying to see what changes if any
had taken place sinse he had last visited his old friend in his
ministerial office.

Nothing much really.   He noticed that on the desk the
photograph of Matthew standing  beside the PM had been
replaced with one of Matthew and his wife and two daughters
standing with the PM and his wife.  He assumed that this
signalled to those in the political world an increasing intimacy
between his friend and the top man.

Matthew was still talking.   Dr Butler decided it was time to
bring the monologue to an end.

"I arranged for a new boy to go to Ovingdean just this week
that I think might interest you.   Why don't you come down
with me this Saturday and have a look."

The Minister reached for the phone.

"My wife please," he said.

"Oh darling.  This week end.   I am so sorry but the P.M has
asked me to take part in a brain storming session on the
drafting of our mission statement on tackling youth
delinquency.   You know how much he values my
contributions on that matter, although not strictly in within the
remit of my current office. I do something to counter the
influence of all those bleeding heart liberals our party is
lumbered with."

"Yes darling I know it's a disappointment."

"I'll miss you too darling."

"And the girls as well darling."

He put the receiver down and turned to face Dr Butler.

"What time will you be picking me up William?" he asked.

---------


Nicky knelt on the damp earth, his knees and hands caked
with mud, his fingers and bare feet numb with cold.  It had
been raining for a long time.   Precisely how long Nicky did
not know for he had lost track of time.  His days had become a
long round of hunger, exhaustion, abuse and fear.

He heard footsteps behind him.     Since it had begun to rain
and the boys had had their plimsolls taken away from them to
avoid them getting spoilt , footsteps meant only one thing ,
staff and staff meant, unless you were very lucky, bullying and
blows.

The footsteps stopped just behind him.   He did not dare to
look round, to do so would be to invite trouble.  So far as he
could judge there were two people standing there.    He
continued to work at turning the earth between the rose bushes
with his trowel.    His work  was simple and  heart breaking.
For days now he had been weeding this flower bed.   He had
worked his way from one end of it to another over and over
again.   He hated and resented every second he spent there
grovelling in the damp earth but he did not show it.  He nursed
to himself his plan; to get to a phone and to call his Dad and
took comfort in his absolute certainty that his Dad would
come and safe him.

"That's the boy." a vaguely familiar male voice said behind
him.

"He's pretty dirty," another man  spoke.

"Just mud.   They'll clean him up before he's brought to you.
Want a closer look.   Boy, you boy come here."

Nicky pushed the trowel into the ground and stood up.   Two
casually but warmly dressed men sheltering under a large golf
umbrella stood on the gravel path looking at him.  One of the
men he recognised as being the doctor who had examined him
at the police station.   He moved closer to them and stood
facing them, his hands by his side, his head slightly bowed.

"Well what do you think?" the Doctor asked.

"Quite nice I suppose," the second man replied.   "I must say
it's handy how the rain makes his clothes transparent.   No
need to have the brat strip in order to see everything he has to
offer."

"Yes," the doctor agreed with a laugh. and then to Nicky he
snapped,
"turn round boy now quick."

Nicky obeyed.   He knew better than to show any of the
resentment he felt at being made to stand shivering in the  rain
as the two men inspected and discussed him from the shelter
of their umbrella although he felt the humiliation keenly.

I think he'll do," the second man said.

"Good, good.   Well get back to your work now boy.   Quick
now," the doctor snapped.

to be continued

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