The boy, Vergota's soloboy, retreats to his room, the weight of his secret burdening him. He paces, his mind racing with vergota, the taboo thoughts that consume him. Unable to resist, he sits on his bed, his hands trembling as they find their way to his belt. He frees his cock, his breath ragged as he begins to stroke, his hips lifting off the bed. His mind fills with visions of the forbidden, his body responding to his dark desires. He's close, so close, when a noise from outside his room freezes him. His heart pounds, his vergon palpable as he quickly hides his evidence, leaving him a quivering, shameful mess.