Date: Tue, 16 Apr 2002 16:43:55 -0500
From: Robert Just Robert <kewl_dad_1@msn.com>
Subject: The Family Chapter 7

The Family
Chapter 7
The End of Innocence

	Ricky heard noises outside his cell and suddenly a guard burst in
brandishing a weapon.
	"Get back against the wall and don't try any funny business." The man said
gruffly.
	Ricky instinctively shrank back against the wall; he had an inherent fear
of guns and didn't want to antagonize the man, at least not yet. His fear
turned to anger as he watched two more guards carry in Cory, who was limp
and lifeless.
	"What did you bastards do to Cory?" Ricky asked with trembling lips.
	"Relax, it's just a little knockout gas, they'll come around in a few
minutes."
	The guards tossed Cory onto the bed roughly evoking even more ire from
Ricky but, he kept his grounds ever aware of the gun being pointed at his
middle. He would wait but, later there would be hell to pay. He watched in
horror as Peter, Dominic and Tommy were carried in and deposited like sacks
of grain, tossed onto the hard cold floor and abandoned. Ricky waited
impatiently as the guards finished and left, the one with the gun stopping
for a moment to nudge Peter roughly with his foot before cackling wickedly
and leaving.  Ricky was at Peter's side at once and was rubbing his hands
and patting his face gently as his eyes flickered open.
	"Oh, shit Ricky. I fucked up." Peter groaned.
	"Shhh, don't try to talk, just lay still. I'm going to check on the
others."
	Ricky noticed Cory stirring on the cot and going to him he soothed him as
he rose back into consciousness. Dominic and Tommy were sitting up and
holding their heads looking around groggily as Ricky stood to address the
waking boys.
	"What happened? Did you reach my dad?"
	"Uh, not really. We got hold of your mom but, she said your dad was on his
way here. We were afraid he was walking into a trap and we...oh, Ricky I
fucked up big time." Peter said wearily.
	"No, you did what I would have done, it's okay. If my dad's here he will
kick some ass pretty soon." Ricky said putting his hands on Peter to comfort
him.
	"Ricky, what's going on here?" Dominic asked suddenly. "Peter told us there
was some trouble but I didn't really understand all he told me."
	"Well, boys I guess you should know...Kronos Trading is a flesh merchant...a
slave trader." Ricky said spitting out the words like poison.
	Four sets of eyes reflected the horror that Ricky felt after voicing the
bitter revelation.
	"Boys just like you, are bought and traded like cheap toys. For anyone with
the money. I feel so sick. I..." Tears filled Ricky's eyes and it was Peter's
turn to offer comfort.
	"Don't...Ricky...we love you...don't..." Peter said near tears himself.
	Cory, Dominic and Tommy closed in on the two and they joined arms in a
group hug. A few tears leaked from each eye but the strength and support
they offered each other gave them hope.
	"If only my dad knew I was here." Ricky said looking up.
	They were interrupted by the door opening and the object of Ricky's wonder
strolled in. Ricky broke free and ran to his father hugging him tightly. At
first the man stood rigid and did not respond, then relaxed and hugged Ricky
back half heartedly.
	"Ricky, what is going on here?" The man asked sternly.
	Ricky quickly and excitedly spelled out the story for his father as he
nodded slowly. His expression seemed to harden but he did not speak until
Ricky had at last finished, looking expectantly at his father.
	"Ricky, I need you to do something for me."
	"What dad?"
	"I need you to promise me that you will never tell anyone what you saw here
today."
	"But..."
	"Ricky...I need your word...or I can't protect you." The words hit Ricky like
a brick thrown from a rooftop.
	"Dad? What are you saying? Did you know they were selling people?"
	"Ricky, we make sure the recipients are decent people and that the
errr...servants are treated kindly." The man spoke with a conviction that was
clearly unfelt.
	"Dad...what kind of decent people buy little kids for sex...it's just wrong.
Dad...please tell me you didn't know...please." Ricky was clinging to his
father and sobbing quietly.
	"Ricky...I can't do anything about it. I can only protect you if you promise
to keep quiet. Ricky, they will kill you and your boys if I don't give them
my word that this is over." The man looked grave and tired, his face showing
his age.
	"I...can't. I have spent all my life fighting what you have been promoting.
It's like I lived a lie." Ricky's anger rose up like a fire seeking the air
and he exploded, pummeling his father with his fists. "I hate you!!" He
screamed.
	His father pushed him away violently and turned to go. "I'm sorry Ricky...I
do love you, but I'm helpless here."
	The door closed suddenly and Ricky collapsed to the floor as the other four
boys ran to him smothering him with comfort.
	"I hate him..I hate him!" Ricky sobbed. "I don't have a father, I was
raised by monsters.

	Upstairs in the corporate office of Hunt Lawson, Michael Richard Wagner
faced the man with quivering uncertainty.
	"What are you going to do with my son and those boys" Mr. Wagner asked
nervously.
	Hunt Lawson rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, they do need some boys out
in the Omega quadrant." His eyes gleamed with the unmistakable look of evil
and Mr. Wagner shuddered.
	"You can't...you wouldn't...he's my son..and those boys are his friends."
	"Lovers are more like it. We know all about his little commune of boys, sex
toys for his perverted appetite I imagine."
	"Shut up. You don't understand my son. Don' pretend you do."
	"Oh, now. Don't get upset. I'm sure we can put all of this behind us if
only..."
	"I can't get him to agree...you don't know him...he's very stubborn."
	"Well, if we can't get him to cooperate, you understand the consequences?"
	Michael Wagner stood rigidly taking in the words and licking his lips
nervously. "I...I'll get him to change his mind, just give me time."
	"Take all the time you need. They're not going anywhere."
	"I'll try again later, maybe he will cool down." Mr. Wagner backed out
slowly as Hunt Lawson eyed him with suspicion.
	"Just don't try anything stupid." The man grunted as Mr. Wagner walked away
slowly.


	Several light years away on a planet that revolves around a red son with a
day cycle of 27.3 hours, the Bakersfield Boys Home stands on a lonely
acreage outside the largest town, Bakersfield. It houses two hundred
homeless boys from various cultures and ranging in age from 7 to 15 years of
age. For over thirty years it has taken in and nurtured boys with the
financial aid of The Kronos Trading company. It is a calm and pleasant place
and the envy of homes of it's type throughout the galaxy but, beneath the
homespun warmth and outward wholesomeness lies a sinister purpose. The
Bakersfield Boys Home provided a commodity that had become indispensable,
the flesh of young boys. In worlds unfathomable and in corners of the galaxy
where love is a commodity for sale and trade, men seek companionship. Often
it is women they seek but, some seek other forms of love and satisfaction.
Some seek boys.
	In the beginning Kronos Trading had shied away from flesh peddling. It was
illegal in most sectors of the galaxy but, Kronos' sovereignty made it an
idea place to operate such a profitable business. At first Michael Wagner
had fought such plans, but times were hard and trading was becoming less and
less profitable. If his company was to grow and prosper it was necessary to
branch out, to try new things. At last he had given in on the condition that
he not be personally involved. He closed his eyes to it for so long that he
considered himself innocent of any corruption. The home had been set up as a
holding pen for the boys. They were treated humanely, fed, clothed, educated
until they were selected. Occasionally one would escape the trading, and
eventually come of age and move on. But, not even those fortunate boys knew
the true nature of the home. Not one of the boys ever returned. Many died in
desolate places, cast aside when they grew too old to please those who had
purchased them. Many became slaves, doing unimaginable tasks from morning to
night until they either died of abuse or killed themselves in anguish. A few
lived, and were treated humanely, perhaps even loved and valued but, the
company's policy was simple, don't ask.
	Today was a special day for Timmy Johnson; he had at last found a home.
Abandoned at age five he had lived on the streets for two years before
wandering into a The New World Holy Church. The church had ties with the
Bakersfield Boys Home and they were called immediately. A representative
from the home came out that day to interview the boy, and it was decided
that he could greatly benefit from the home's placement program. He was both
excited and nervous as he listened politely and smiled when he was told that
he had been chosen to live at the home. He had heard of it, a bright and
shining place where boys never went hungry or cold and sometimes were placed
with families in all kinds of wonderful places. He felt like his dreams had
come true at last, that his prayers had been answered.
      Timmy looked up as the sleek hover craft landed and he let out a
little gasp as he studied the immense structure before him. The main
building was a marvel of design and function but, the architecture was
reminiscent of a simpler time. Tall and austere, it's shape was not unlike
that of the English boarding schools of the 19th century. Ivy covered one
wall and trees lined the drive and the sidewalks joining the various
buildings giving the look of a community rather than an institution. Timmy
had never seen anything so lovely or exciting, tears stained his soft face
as he hopped from the hover craft and obediently followed the man to the
entrance of the closest building.
      The man was Thomas Powell, he had been associated with the home only a
year now and was in charge of a group of the younger boys, ages 7 to 10. He
had been an orphan himself as a child but, was fortunate enough to have been
taken in by a family who had known his parents. He had been raised and
treated as one of their own and when the couple had died several years ago
during a meteor storm he had traveled back to the planet of his childhood to
attend their funerals. He had been an emotional wreck at the time but, from
the tragedy and the sorrow a conviction was born within him. He had
dedicated his life to the service of boys, boys who through no fault of
their own were homeless and unloved. He had made it his life's work and it
became his passion. He had applied at the Bakersfield Boys Home because he
had heard it was the finest facility in the galaxy and when he had been
accepted to join the staff he viewed this as a sign that he had chosen the
right path for his life. He had a genuine love for boys, and though at times
he became frustrated with his own desires, he always managed to abate them
and do what was best for the boys.
	Thomas had discovered at an early age that he was gay and that he preferred
the company of boys, and not men. He had experimented with boys his age when
he was younger and when he became a teen he had still sought out those
younger boys. But, fear of his own feelings had driven him away from that
persuasion and he felt that by helping boys he could learn to control if not
change those persuasions. For a year now he had lived among the boys, eating
when they ate, sleeping when they ate, helping them with their studies,
playing their games and not once had he lost the battle of desire. Sometimes
it was hard. The boys grew to love and trust Thomas, as boys do so easily,
calling him Thommie or Thom Thumb affectionately. He would wrestle with the
boys on the soft carpet of the rec room or on his bed when they would visit
him with a question or just for company but, his touching was friendly,
unsexual and he was pleased with himself at his restraint.
	Today Thomas was bringing a new boy to the home and as he was showed him
around the boy's wide eyed innocence touched his heart. The boy was seven as
far as could be determined but he looked older and acted younger. It was
difficult being on the streets; Thomas had seen many boys and they all had
certain things in common. Some grew up faster, a necessity for survival,
others regressed and survived by acting younger. These were the saddest
boys; Thomas thought, for almost always they were the victims of sexual
abuse. To survive they would be as young as the trick desired and often
these boys were injured or killed, unable to protect themselves from the
sickness of the men who sought them out. Thomas hoped this boy was different
but, deep inside he knew that he could not have survived for two years
without giving his body up to that sickness.
	The boy was slender but, not skinny. Several days at the church with
regular meals had put some meat back on his bones and he looked like an
ordinary child might. His bruises had healed (yes, boys on the street were
beaten often by the abusers) and he seemed bright and intelligent despite
his lack of education. His hair was brown and neatly cut by the people at
the church. His eyes were dark pools of sparking innocence and his face
round and cute. His little button nose and the dimples in his cheeks made
him very endearing, and Thomas fell instantly in love with that face. He
found himself watching the boy as he showed him the library, the cafeteria,
the gymnasium and found himself enthralled by the boy's movements. The boy
was truly special. He had endured more hardship in his short life than
Thomas cared to know, and still he seemed innocent and almost angelic. He
was a beautiful child and Thomas made a mental commitment to give him
special attention.
	When at last Thomas led the boy to his room, a huge cozy dormitory he would
share with three other boys, he was moved by the boy's appreciation and
excitement.
	"You mean there are only four of us in this big room?" He asked with eyes
huge and shining.
	"Yes, Timmy and your room has it's own bathroom as well. See, over here."
Thomas said showing the boy the spacious bathroom with two toilets, a
urinal, a bathtub and a separate shower.
	 At first the boy looked at him as if he were the object of some terrific
joke. "You don't mean it; you're just funning with me, right?"
	"No, I'm totally serious. All are rooms here are shared by only four boys
and each room has it's own bathroom. And there are a dozen or so rec rooms,
each for different age groups and several cafeterias and auditoriums. This
place is the nicest boys' home I know of. It's funded by a very rich and
powerful man on the planet Kronos. Have you heard of that planet?"
	"No sir but, I am very glad that man is so good to us." He smiled and
Thomas heart melted. He felt hot and nervous, a feeling he had never felt
with the other boys.
	"Well...Timmy, or would you rather I call you Tim?"
	"Timmy is fine sir, I like the way you say it." The boy said shyly.
	"Fine, Timmy lets get you set up here and then we will go down to the
clothing shop and get you a few things to wear. Those clothes you have on
seem a bit worn."
	Timmy was embarrassed at his worn and dirty clothes but, it was the only
clothes he owned. But, even these were better than the tattered rags he had
worn when he stumbled into the church. These clothes that he now wore had
been given to him at the church and at that time he had been very proud of
them. Now, he felt sad and frightened for the first time since he had been
chosen to come here. Tears formed in his eyes and he began to sob,
uncontrollably as his small body shook. Thomas knew it must have been the
comment about his clothes that had triggered his tears but, he knew that the
real reason for the tears was buried deep inside the boy. Two years of pain
and fear were now unleashed and Thomas went to him to hold him and help him
deal with that pain.
	Thomas pulled the boy into him and hugged him gently; tears of his own
falling softly from his partially closed eyes. He felt the boy's pain, he
had felt it before in others and it was still as brutal and fresh as the
first time. He sat down on the nearest bed drawing the boy into his lap. The
boy melted into him and his sobs lessened. For the first time in his short
life he felt safe. He was quickly becoming attached to this man, this
stranger who seemed more a friend than any familiar face he had known. He
allowed the man to hold him, to soothe him, to take away a part of that pain
and he felt a burden lift from him. He felt warm and loved and suddenly very
tired, he let his eyelids close and his breathing slowed. Shortly Thomas
realized the boy was asleep. He continued to hold him, rocking him gently at
the evening dinner bell rang and the throngs of hungry boys poured into the
cafeterias to devour the evening meal. In his sleep the small boy smiled and
murmured softly. Thomas bent his head to the sleeping boy's face and kissed
him gently.

End Chapter 8

Next: Friendship Blossoms

Sorry it took so long to get this out but, I been busy. If you are still out
there reading my stuff let me know. I love email and I respond to all. Love
ya.
Kewl_dad_1@msn.com