THE WORM HOLE by Ganymede


WARNING:

This story contains graphic descriptions of consensual sexual 
acts between men and MINOR boys. I do not condone either incest or 
child abuse except in the imaginary form presented here. If the 
subject of man/boy sex offends you, if  this material is illegal in 
your place of residence, or if you are under the  legal age for such 
material, do not read further! You have been warned! Read  at your 
own risk!

The story is copyrighted under the pseudonym, Ganymede. A single 
copy  has been placed in the Nifty archives. Feel free to post it to 
appropriate  newsgroups or send it to your friends. If distributing 
my story for monetary  gain, please contribute $50 to the Nifty 
archive.

The story is fiction. Any resemblance to any individual, alive 
or dead, is unfortunate. Apologies are made in advance to any 
offended person or group.

FINAL WARNING:

If you are under the age of 18, if this material is illegal in 
your  place of residence, or if man-boy relationships aren't your 
thing, then exit now and save yourself from a life of sin!



The WORM-HOLE    (PART 1)    by Ganymede

Introduction

The twenty-eighth period of the Scalen Cycle heralded the 
resurgence of Absolutist power. 4,058 Relativist years have passed 
since the death of Jesus Christ on Earth. With the advances of 
science, religious philosophy, and evolutionary change, there are now 
two distinct human species: Absolutists and Relativists.

Only thirteen Earth years have passed since the massacre of 
Absolutist boys at Deam on the planet Yih-ko. The battle for Yih-ko 
marked the final separation of Absolutism and the true science of 
Newton, from the otherwise universal beliefs in Relativism, Einstein, 
and the mock-religion, Christianity. The massacre at Deam marked the 
beginning of the end for Absolutism.

For fifteen cycles, or more than one thousand years, Absolutists 
have controlled travelling rights across the galaxy. The passport to 
travel is the WORM-HOLE, an extension of Newtonian physics--a 
direction of inquiry that was abandoned by Albert Einstein. Although 
it was intimated within his famous E = mc^2 equation, and can be 
reconciled with it by using simple mathematics, the science 
underlying the existence of WORM-HOLEs remained undiscovered until 
1996 when Stefan Harper reformulated Einstein's equation and 
understood its implications. 

Simply, space and time are not relative as Einstein 
hypothesized, but are absolute in dimension. However, the concept of 
relativity is not irrelevant because space and time possess inverse 
dimensions of varying proportion, thereby making the Universe 
relative to an Inverse world. Using a WORM-HOLE, a person can travel 
from one place and time to another by establishing two multi-
dimensional centers. 'One' center exists in the positive dimension of 
the absolute or real world, the 'Other' belongs to the equally real, 
but much smaller inverse world. Travel in the Inverse world is scaled 
(or related) though dimension and time to a different place and time 
in the positive (real) Universe. 

Without going into the mathematical complexity of derivation, 
the fundamental relationship of Absolute and Inverse Space can be 
demonstrated simply by expanding the terms of Einstein's equation 
with:

(1) mass = x * y * z * d    where x, y, z are unit dimensions of 
                            space and,

		            d is the density of matter.

(2) c = X * Y * Z / T	    where X, Y, Z are Absolute dimensions of 
                            the Universe,
			    and T is Absolute Time.

The logic behind Equation 2 is irrefutable. Simply "speed" is 
equivalent to the distance travelled per unit time. Because light 
travels in the three dimensions of the Universe, and the Universe has 
existed only for a known time, T, (during which it has reached 
Absolute dimensions of X, Y, and Z), the "speed of light" (c) is 
defined in absolute terms.

Reformulating Einstein's equation yields:

(3)    e = (x*y*z*d)*[(X*Y*Z)/T] squared

The inverse world is defined accordingly:

(4)    e/(x*y*z*d) = [(X*Y*Z)/T] squared

(5)    {[e/(x*y*z*d)] / [(X*Y*Z)/T]} * T = (X*Y*Z) 

Thus, a place in Absolute Space (for example, the Tower of Tanu-
hag at Deam, on Yih-ko in the planetary system T23-q) has a 
corresponding inverse location in another much smaller world (the 
seventh tree of Essus on the Plain of Watergrass). 

The basis for the Absolute is described by Stefan Harper,

	"The inverse of the One, that is our familiar Universe, 
itself approaching infinite size, does not become infinitely small as 
logic would require for an inverse of something so vast. Nature, 
contrary to the logic of mathematics, requires balance in the 
Universe. Instead, consider the world we live in to be greater than 
unit one, and the other world to be less than unit one, inverse and 
very much smaller, but absolute nonetheless. Not only does the Other 
possesses inverse dimension, but by definition it is commensurate 
with the One and inverse to the sum of all energy, time, and density, 
as revealed in the reformulation of the Einstein Equation....

	"Then, the connection between the One and the Other must 
exist in the realm of energy, time, and density, and should allow the 
passage of physical matter. Pursuant to that, the movement of a body 
from one to the other, can occur by the direct application of the 
greater equation to the material body itself, but the limits to that 
movement are immediately obvious. For example, for a human body with 
a mass of 80 kilograms and a volume of about 0.15 cubic meters, the 
connection or With-Origin-Relating-Movement (WORM-HOLE) has a 
theoretical width of 50 millimeters, or the breadth of two fingers. 
Curiously, the width is the same as a phallus, and is roughly 
proportional to body size and maturity. Suffice it to say, under such 
limits the opportunities for human travel will be very limited--to 
procreation of the species."

	Stefan Harper, "Dimensions and Time and the Problem of 
        Reconciliation."
	Unpublished paper until 3018 AD, "Principles for Union and 
        Travel: Readings for Initiates."

It is the size of the WORM-HOLE that gives rise to the unique 
condition necessary for access from one world to the other. What 
Harper did not describe in his original, but deliberately obscure 
paper is the actual process of connecting centers, although by 
implication of his anatomical reference he seemed to be aware of the 
principle involved. Simply, the process of connection is initiated by 
metaphysical transfer resulting from the joining of two bodies in 
love. The WORM-HOLE results from the release of energy during sexual 
union that occurs when love is physically expressed. Simply, a 
traveller is pulled or pushed through the WORM-HOLE by his lover. 
Because of the nature of the WORM- HOLE, it can only be entered by a 
male during the act of anal intercourse. This fact directly causes 
the primary differentiation between the two species, Absolutists and 
Relativists. However, the difference is less one of biological and 
anatomical science and than it is of religious theology and 
psychological preference. 

Although natural selection and genetic differences are 
significant factors in the differentiation of the species--sexual 
orientation and the process of procreation are primary. In order to 
enter and leave a WORM-HOLE, Absolutists have forsaken women and are 
entirely homosexual. For them, the perpetuation of MANkind is 
artificial. Offspring are 'sired' by the laboratory union of the seed 
from two males, or replicated from the sperm of a progenitor by 
cloning. By either method, and by definition, only male children are 
produced. By puberty, boys have been mated with adult males and they 
are trained to become warriors, guardians, or guides of the inverse 
world.

Beginning immediately after birthing by his surrogate virgin 
'mother', a priestess of the Cult of Lo-qui-chi, or emergence from 
his chrysalis into the world, a boy begins the long preparation so 
that he is ready for the passive role in homosexual love. He will not 
be the active partner during anal intercourse until several years 
after he is fully mature. Just prior to, or at the onset of puberty, 
Absolutist boys are 'sired', a ritual of initiation that ends with 
sodomy. During a boy's first orgasm from anal penetration, which 
occurs at the exact moment of entry into a WORM-HOLE, a permanent 
ring or 'worm-tube' is formed around his penis and he is initiated.

Despite their vital role in multi-dimensional space travel, 
other than those men and boys who live in the inverse world, by the 
Twenty-Eighth Period of the Scalen Cycle, Absolutist power is 
concentrated in a few outposts scattered through the Milky Way. One 
of them is Chadq, a small planet in the Orion system.


         *************  THE WORM-HOLE ***************

Planet Earth, Period None, Scalen Cycle (1986 Relativist Years)


"Ohhhhhhh! Jesus! You feel so good in me, Alan! Do it faster! 
For God's sake, do it faster! I'm getting close."

Alan Harper gasped loudly as he slammed as hard and fast as he 
could in Julian's buttocks. Their bodies collided loudly as he thrust 
deeply into the sucking anus that contained him. His throbbing penis 
was tortured and his movements were no longer dedicated to providing 
pleasure to his partner. His heavy testicles swung back and forth 
with each deep stab, slapping and bouncing against Julian's thighs. 
So close! Only a few seconds more. His back was moist with sweat, 
some of it running down his flanks. He needed to last just a little 
longer. He could feel his testicles tightening up as his orgasm 
approached. Just another few strokes and he would ejaculate. Even 
though he was still in good shape, forty-three was almost too old for 
much longer. He felt his orgasm building, a final crescendo as he 
pumped viciously, as hard, and deep and fast as he could. He felt 
Julian's rectum clenching, his lover's body jerking in a frenzied 
ecstasy as he ejaculated onto his belly. He felt the sheets fall away 
from them. He grunted as he peaked and slammed his penis in all the 
way. For a moment he tried to imagine what his lover was feeling and 
wondered whether his joy could even begin to approach his own. He 
pushed deeply, forcing his glans into the distant end of the other's 
rectum, pulled back again, dragging his swollen head through the 
pulsing prostate. 

"Tighter," Alan groaned as he shoved forward one more time. 

His time was perfect. He felt his seed boiling out of his 
rampart organ and into his lover of twenty years. He felt the other 
man's anus gripping him reflexively, squeezing the semen out of him 
as it spurted in white thick strands. He continued to thrust, 
gradually slowing and becoming gentle until he was finished. His head 
lowered and his lips sought his mate's. They began to kiss, still 
joined, sandwiched belly to belly, groin and buttocks joined in a 
film of sticky paste of sweat, semen and lubricant. Their fluids 
mingled as their tongues twisted and united, each probing deeply in 
the release of passion.

"God! Julian! I love you so much!" Alan said softly. His lips 
brushed the other man's ear and his tongue dragged over the lobe 
before pressing inside. He licked wetly.

"Oh man! Oh you feel so fucking wonderful," Julian purred 
contentedly. "I love you too, Alan. I love you deep in my ass. You 
belong there, sweetheart."

"I don't ever want to get up," Alan said before his lips 
returned to the eager mouth that instinctively opened and accepted 
his tongue and sucked it in as far as it would go. 

They kissed again and again, basking in their mutual warmth, 
each feeling contentment that came from being satisfied. The act of 
love-making always served to bring them closer together. Finally, 
when his penis had become completely soft and began to itch, Alan 
eased back and dragged his penis away, pulling the exhausted shaft 
out of its hot scabbard. A dribble of milky semen trickled from 
Julian's well worn anus as soon as his penis exited. 

Alan turned onto his back and placed his arm around the younger 
man. Six years separated them in age. The differences between them 
were not differences caused by age alone. The differences had brought 
them together and kept them in the same bed since 1975. Julian 
sighed, lifted up slightly, and turned his head to the side, leaving 
it on Alan's chest. He felt that wonderful happy bliss that comes 
from being loved and full of his lover's orgasm. Alan's fingers 
caressed his hair, twisting in the long strands. His thumb stroked 
the other man's cheek, marvelling that it still stayed so smooth 
compared to his own. He needed to shave and he rubbed his morning 
bristles against the other man's hair. Julian shaved every other day 
and then it was practically unnecessary.

"You're still a great fuck, Julian," Alan sighed. 

"Just when I'm beginning to think I'm getting too old for really 
wild sex," Julian teased. "You sure know how to make a person feel 
good."

The two men laughed. "We'll have to get up soon," Al murmured. 
"I'm too pooped to do it again, anyway."

"You and me both, honey. Oh to be young again, and fuck until 
lunchtime" Julian mused. "Stef's got a soccer game at 10.30, 
remember?"

"Yeah, I know. Can you take him by yourself, Julian? I have to 
go to work today for at least a few hours to finish off what I didn't 
get to yesterday. And don't forget where Stef has to be this 
afternoon."

"The math contest? Don't worry, I won't forget! Besides Stefan 
wouldn't let me forget anyway. He's really looking forward to it. Can 
you imagine, an eleven-year-old competing with college students? God, 
I hope he wins a place. He certainly deserves to!"

Alan sighed contentedly. "I'm glad he really excels at 
something. Sports are Stef's forte, that's certain. He has a lot of 
fun and he tries very hard, but he's not very good at soccer or 
baseball." 

Julian nodded slightly. "I really think he plays better when 
you're there Alan. He tries to be more aggressive. He tries harder 
for you."

"Mmmmm," Alan sighed again. "That's because he's a lot like you, 
Julian. He wants so much to be like you. He tries harder for you too, 
only in different ways."

His fingers caressed his partner's buttocks and slowly pressed 
into his deep hot crevice. He stroked his fingers through the juicy 
well-lubricated flesh. It was slick with semen and K-Y. He felt the 
wetness surrounding Julian's still-dilated anus and lovingly rotated 
two fingers around the mushy looseness where his penis had been only 
minutes earlier. 

"I didn't think you had picked up on it, that he was a lot a 
like me," Julian answered.

"I've known it for a long while. It's lucky for Stef that he 
plays goalie as well as he does, or he'd spend most of his time on 
the sidelines. But you're right, he's not very assertive, is he? Some 
of the kids on his team can be downright scrappy when they're after 
the ball, but not Stef."

"But he still makes a great goalie, even though he's fairly 
passive," Julian acknowledged.

Julian's hips lifted up slightly as he pushed back onto Alan's 
fingers. Two of them easily penetrated into his weakened anus. They 
glided through the dilated opening until they were several inches 
inside.

"Hmmmmmm, that feels nearly good as your cock," Julian sighed as 
the familiar full feeling returned. "I like it right there!" 

He waited for several seconds as Alan's fingers rubbed against 
his prostate before he pushed back against Alan's hand, taking both 
fingers into him as far as they could go. Alan's fingers eased out 
slightly, forced apart, and began to massage either side of the other 
man's prostate, eliciting a muted groan.

"He's a natural bottom, you know Alan," Julian said softly. 

"Who? Oh, you mean Stefan? Tell me something else I don't know."

"Well he is, Alan. And sooner or later we're going to have to 
face up to it."

"That he's gay?" Alan prompted. Julian nodded slightly. "I've 
never imagined that he would be straight, you know. I think he was 
born to be gay. And if he wasn't, well Stefan's certainly had a 
positive role model in the two of us."

"Do you think Stef's a bottom?" Julian asked hopefully. "He's 
built like me," he added, "and we like the same things."

"The two of you even think alike," Alan offered. "Every time I 
see him I find myself wondering what you would have been like at his 
age."

Julian smirked. "I didn't think you were into boys, Alan."

"I'm not! However, for you Honey, I might have made an 
exception. I bet you were one very horny kid, but then so is Stef. If 
any boy was able to turn me on, he would be just like Stefan. He's 
incredibly sexy!"

"That's a funny thing to say about him," Julian said. "However, 
I know what you mean. Maybe I had better warn his friends."

"Assuming they don't already know we're gay? That's probably why 
he doesn't have that many friends, you know. Most parents probably 
warn their sons to steer clear of Stefan."

"Assuming Stefan hasn't played around with them already?"

Alan regarded his partner. He had started to wonder the same 
thing himself. Stefan was old enough to be interested in his friends' 
bodies. Sex play among boys was the usual way for a gay boy to 
discover his true orientation. It was the way he had started. He 
shrugged.

"Stef's too much of a loner for that. Computer games are one 
thing but not sex games. Anyway, he's perfectly capable of satisfying 
his physical needs by himself. He's even started putting his finger 
inside himself when he jerks off." "He knows what he wants, just like 
I do," Julian taunted.

Alan laughed and rammed his fingers harder into Julian's rectum 
before jerking them out. He squeezed the other man's buttocks, wiping 
the film of semen and lubricant on his cheeks. 

"I love a juicy rump, Julian, but you're oozing cum this 
morning." He glanced down at Julian's head and felt deep affection 
for him. "You're right when you said he's a natural bottom, Julian. 
He just doesn't know what it all means yet. I guess he'll figure it 
out soon enough. It's part of growing up. When a boy starts sticking 
his finger in his anus it's just a matter of time until he tries 
something a bit bigger."

"I know that feeling," Julian laughed. "How big is the question. 
What do you have in mind?"

"I imagine he'll start experimenting with one of his friends 
from school sooner or later. I know I did when I was his age."

"The trouble with Stef doing it with a boy his own age is it 
won't be long until he wants something even bigger in his butt. 
Unless his boy friend is really hung, of course, which I sincerely 
doubt."

"Why is that?"

"Because most fifth-grade boys are very lucky to have four 
inches in the dick department," Julian laughed. 

"And four inches isn't enough?" Alan teased.

"Four inches is a lot better than Stefan's three inches," Julian 
smirked. "But it's still a long way short of providing real pleasure, 
even for another boy."

"I agree that Stef's probably better off with one of his own 
fingers than a dick that's the same size as his," Alan added. "But 
it's more fun with someone else." 

Julian smirked. "And safer too!" He studied Alan's groin with 
admiration. His lover was well equipped, not over-endowed like some 
men. Alan was perfect for him. "I'm sure Stef's going to take after 
me in penis size. That's another reason why he's better off being a 
bottom. We both know it's much better when a big dick is on top."

Alan smiled appreciatively. "Maybe he'll become interested in 
boys," he suggested casually. "A big dick is a disadvantage then."

His lover shrugged and wrapped his hand around Alan's thick 
member. He squeezed it fondly, gradually drawing his hand up the 
shaft until his thumb could rub across the slotted opening. "Well big-
boy what do you have in mind for this whopper?"

"I wish we had time to do it again," Alan purred contentedly. 
"We better get up now or we'll never get out of bed."

They kissed again before getting out of bed. It was nearly nine 
o'clock on a Saturday morning. Tomorrow, they would sleep in later, 
perhaps even have the time to make love again before Stefan came 
waltzing stark-naked into their bedroom with the Sunday paper. Then 
he would get under the covers, placing himself between them in a 
position that he had occupied since he was a toddler. He had been 
raised to be uninhibited about his body and that all three of them 
were naked was only natural. With pages strewn over the bed, they 
would engage in the wrestling game that preceded getting up for 
breakfast.

Alan faced the man he loved. They had aged together, but they 
still made a handsome pair. Together with Stefan they were a family, 
much like any heterosexual couple and their children. However, the 
stigma of being openly gay, even in open-minded San Francisco, 
complicated their lives and made Stefan's existence often 
considerably more difficult than it would otherwise be. With an 
intellect that was considerably more advanced than most people in 
their twenties, Stefan's life was complicated by factors beyond his 
parents' sexuality, not the least being that he was three years 
younger than the other boys in his class. Without friends his own 
age, Alan and Julian's friends became his friends and they had no 
shortage of friends. To a person they were gay or lesbian so it was 
not surprising that Stefan had no interest in the opposite sex. Other 
gay men referred to Alan and Julian as an example of a successful 
relationship because most of them experienced transitory romances at 
best. There was a strong physical attraction between them that 
fulfilled an inner need and made their love anything but fleeting. 
They depended on each other. 

Silently Alan wondered whether it was the effeminate side of 
Julian that kept him sexually interested for nearly twenty years. 
Julian was unlike other men, even those epicene men who flirted in 
the gay bars in drag. He was sensitive and loving. He was not afraid 
to show intimacy and share himself, and he was eager to take the 
passive role. Although Alan had not said so at the time, he had 
wanted to say that Stefan appeared to be turning out the same way. 
His thoughts were interrupted as Julian voiced an opinion not unlike 
his own.

"If you're going to be at the office until lunchtime, Alan, 
maybe I should take Stef to the shop after the game ends. He's been 
asking me for weeks now if he can go with me. I thing our little boy-
faggot is getting interested in Chris. Besides, he needs a haircut."

Alan smiled. He did not particularly like the idea of Stefan 
having a relationship with Chris Turner, but Stefan's interest 
provided a clear and unambiguous sign of an emerging homosexual 
orientation. What he had suspected for some time, and kept to himself 
in the hope that he was wrong, was that Stefan was attracted to boys 
even younger than himself. There were more than a few signs of it 
with nine-year-old Lee Chang, a neighborhood boy who idolized him. 

"Chris has always been a bit too much of a pansy even for me, 
Julian," Alan said flatly. He hesitated, remembering how he had 
watched Stefan's eyes as he observed the younger boy when they played 
together. The interest was more than casual, it was increasingly 
obvious what Stefan wanted. He breathed out, hoping that he was 
wrong. Boylove and happiness did not go hand in hand. 

"It doesn't bother me if that's what Stefan really wants. As 
they say, it pays to advertise. I guess our little boy is starting to 
grow up. I for one, am very glad he's going to be gay. However, 
whatever happens don't let him be late for the math contest. He has 
to be there by two o'clock."

Alan stepped forward and embraced Julian's nude body. He was 
several inches taller than the other man. He admired Julian's slender 
physique as he surged against the smooth-shaven body and felt his sex 
push against his own. Not only was there was no hair below his head 
but Julian's bare crotch and compact genitals never failed to excite 
him. He tried to imagine life without Julian, without the comfort of 
his warmth and loving caresses, without his soft voice and gentle 
manner. Julian made him feel whole and very happy. They hugged, 
kissing shamelessly as the warm sun bathed their lower legs. He felt 
Julian's penis begin to become erect again. His hand glided between 
them, sinking down between their lower bellies until he brushed 
against the thickening organ. It was more than an inch shorter than 
his own penis and not as thick. The stretching skin seemed much 
softer than his own. He thought of Julian as the almost-boy he had 
first met just after he had graduated from college. Julian was 
eighteen and beautiful with his special balance of man and woman. He 
could ask for nothing more for a partner for life.

Without saying anything they began to kiss. Alan quickly became 
more aggressive as he asserted his familiar dominant role. Julian, 
the ever-compliant partner who welcomed his lover's penis into its 
rightful place within his body, yielded and sucked Alan's tongue 
deeply into him. They kissed with vigor, then softly, then exchanging 
saliva with their tongues entwined. When they parted, Julian's penis 
was rigid and Alan continued to jack the squat shaft, occasionally 
rubbing his thumb over the scarlet glans to use the oozing pre-
seminal juice as lubricant. He felt Julian's hand enclose his own 
penis and return the favor with a slow deliberate motion, from base 
to tip sliding on the residual lubricant. It would not take more than 
a few minutes to make him climax again. This time his testicles ached 
from the effort. He felt as though he had ejaculated until he was 
drained of semen.

"Sooner or later," Julian murmured, "Stefan will be doing this, 
you know Alan"

"I know, Julian. I know! It's not Stef doing this that bothers 
me. It's the rest of it I worry about, but mostly what we were doing 
a few minutes ago."

"Getting his butt fucked comes with the territory, Alan. I was 
just about his age when I started going all the way, and it wasn't 
with a boy my own age either." 

"I know that too. I guess I had better get him out of bed while 
you take a shower. This is going to have to wait until tonight," Alan 
added as he gave Julian's swollen sex a parting squeeze.

"I love you Alan," Julian said softly. "I only hope Stefan is as 
lucky as I am."

Alan smiled. "You know, there's no guarantees of anything in 
this world, but I have this feeling that he's going find a guy who's 
out of this world."

"I'll be happy if he finds a man like you," Julian said. "Stef 
is a very special boy, and not only because he is so intelligent. I'm 
so happy he's gay! He'd be totally wasted on a woman."


                      *********

As Julian stumbled into the shower to wash the signs and smell 
of sex from his body, Alan left the bedroom to make certain that 
Stefan was awake and getting dressed. He was oblivious to his nudity. 
Despite his age he was fit and relatively trim. Except for the inch 
or two of fat at his waist he had nothing to be ashamed of and his 
naked body was a familiar sight to his adopted son.

Stefan was no longer asleep when Alan came into his room. Unlike 
the man who he thought of as his father, he wore a tee-shirt. At one 
time it had been Alan's, but more than a year ago he had adopted it 
as his own, just as he had been adopted nearly eleven years ago. The 
tee-shirt was big enough for a man nearly six feet tall. On his own 
slight frame of 4'10" and 81 pounds, it became a ready-made 
nightshirt that came halfway down his slender thighs, effectively 
removing the need for pajamas, pants, or even underpants. 

Stefan had just finished masturbating and his tee shirt was 
pushed up to his chest. One hand was draped over his bare hip, his 
fingertips still stroking his slowly deflating uncircumcised penis. 
Unlike Alan and Julian, who had been circumcised according to the 
fashion of the 1950's, they had been adamant about keeping his 
foreskin intact. Now his fingers eased the extra skin back and forth 
along his thin shaft, luxuriating in the added looseness. He basked 
in the afterglow that came from vigorous and prolonged rubbing 
despite the fact that he had yet to ejaculate. Like all boys 
approaching the onset of puberty, Stefan looked forward eagerly to 
the time when he would finally release semen. However, not realizing 
that the full extent of the more intense pleasures that awaited him, 
until that time arrived he was perfectly content with the very nice 
feelings he received from his immature sex organs. 

Stefan rubbed gently, lingering on the tip where the feelings 
were best, absorbing the sensations until his warm body tingled with 
happiness. With each downward movement of his hand the foreskin 
started to retract, forcing his little glans forward and partially 
through the opening. It was crimson-red and the tiny meatus opened 
like a little mouth gulping air. He studied himself, secure in his 
self-pleasuring, shamelessly enjoying the joy that came naturally to 
his young body.

Although Stefan knew a lot more about sex than most other boys 
his age, his knowledge was almost entirely confined to the male 
anatomy. Both 'parents' saw to it that he was well informed about his 
body. With careful teaching he would appreciate his sexual functions, 
both front and rear, when the time was right. By eleven years old he 
had experienced self-induced pleasures that few boys ever discovered 
before their mid-to-late teens. The fingers of his other hand were 
under his tee shirt, barely touching his still-pointed right nipple. 
He stroked himself gently, shivering slightly as his nerves tingled 
with delight. It felt almost as good as playing with his penis, about 
on a par with his recently learned activity of inserting his 
fingertip part of the way into his anus when he was in the shower. 

His sexual experimentation had quickly become a morning ritual 
that was usually timed to the action in the adjoining bedroom, if he 
was awake. Like other mornings he heard the noisy squeaking of the 
springs and knew what was happening. The bed frame creaked loudly as 
the two men rutted feverishly towards a shared climax. He knew more 
than enough about sex to imagine what they were doing and to 
understand that he wanted to do the same thing.

Stefan grinned shamelessly as Alan entered his bedroom.

"Mornin' Stef'!" Alan said as he stopped at the window. "It's 
about time to get dressed, that is if you plan on making it to soccer 
field this morning and not spend the rest of the day jerking off."

Stefan continued to grin as he continued to fondle his small 
penis. It was nearly relaxed although still inflated with blood. He 
was growing up with few inhibitions that plagued other boys his age. 
His body was something to enjoy and was frequently exhibited in its 
natural state. A long time ago he had discovered that his penis was a 
special part of his body, and his 'parents' had made very certain 
that he understood that it was not something that he should not be 
ashamed of. Indeed, its primary function was to make him feel good, 
and when he was older, to provide satisfaction for his partner. Until 
he shared his bed with someone else it was entirely normal for him to 
use it to satisfy himself and he had no hesitation in doing so 
whenever the desire arose.

"I see you're getting your foreskin back easily now," Alan added.

"Uh huh," Stefan acknowledged. "It's a lot bigger at the end."

His hand pulled back and slowly retracted his foreskin all the 
way past the still-swollen crown before it stopped moving. His glans 
was slightly reddened, a visible sign that the sensitive and delicate 
tissue had been subjected to more than thirty minutes of abuse. Only 
his fingers tips continued to squeeze on the small bulb that 
terminated his penis. He smiled at the heightened stimulation of the 
exposed glans.

"It feels a lot different when it's back," Stefan said with 
amusement. "If I rub the end of him it makes me feel like I need to 
pee really bad."

That increased sensitivity was the primary reason why Alan and 
Julian had decided not to have their newly adopted son circumcised. 
Alan winked.

"Well, like I told you Stef, you can play with it all you want, 
just don't pee on your bed unless you plan on changing your own 
sheets."

He walked towards the young boy and sat down on the bed next to 
him.

"It's nice that you're learning how to make yourself feel good," 
Alan added. "It's a very important part of growing up."

Stefan shrugged. "When do you think I will start making that 
white stuff you told me about? That semen stuff?"

Alan laughed. He glanced at the boy's immature sex organs and 
tried to gauge when he would begin puberty. It was obvious that the 
hairless boy was not about to ejaculate in the immediate future, 
probably not even in the next year or two. His penis was that of a 
young boy,and even his testicles showed no indication of the sudden 
growth spurt that heralded the onset of sexual maturity. For a moment 
he considered discussing the anatomical changes that occurred during 
a boy's sexual development. He decided against it. There was not 
enough time before they had to leave the house. It would wait until 
the next opportunity, perhaps even later that evening.

"You'll do it when you're good and ready, and when your body 
says you're old enough." Alan grinned. "You won't know until it 
actually happens. Of course your balls will get a bit bigger 
beforehand but you won't have any warning. It'll just come spurting 
out one morning when you least expect it. But don't stop trying, 
though. That's half the fun."

Playfully he dragged the covers down and began to tickle Stefan. 
The boy giggled and wriggled as he struggled to be free. However, his 
struggles were half-hearted and his efforts were less about effecting 
his escape than encouraging Alan to continue the tickling assault. 
Quickly both man and boy became excited. As Stefan squirmed and 
writhed under the naked man he thought of as his 'father', his adult-
sized tee shirt was easily pulled up past his slender hips. 
Increasingly, their hands and genitals came into contact. What began 
as friendly grabs became lingering caresses and affectionate tickles 
that were directed primarily at his private parts until they were 
laughing hysterically. It was a game with strongly erotic overtones 
and the physical contact of their bodies was considerably more 
stimulating and invasive than any normal wrestling match between a 
father and his son.

As Alan felt his heated penis begin to stiffen from the sudden 
flow of blood he eased away. He glanced down and was gratified when 
he saw that Stefan's body was responding in a similar fashion. It was 
time to stop.

He sat back on his haunches and admired the nearly naked boy 
before him. The tee shirt was pushed up under his arms. Stefan's 
chest was reddened and he was breathing quickly. His penis flexed, 
guided by instinct and desire. Again, Alan grinned.

"You better get up or there won't be a goalie with the strength 
to play in the game today," he chuckled. "Especially after you've 
spent most of the morning playing with your dick."

Stefan grinned and flopped back on the bed. His rigid penis lay 
on his lower belly, pointing towards his small navel. His eyes 
glanced quickly at his 'father's' groin and his grin widened as he 
observed that he was not the only one sporting an erection. Alan also 
glanced down before looking up to his eyes.

"What's it feel like?" Stefan asked awkwardly. He was suddenly 
very curious.

Alan raised an eyebrow. "What? What does what feel like?"

"You know! What you do to Julian. What does sex feel like?"

"When it's inside?"

Stefan nodded. He glanced down, following Alan's continuing gaze 
along his own body.

Alan smiled slightly. "It feels good." He paused. "For both of 
us, Stef. Maybe you should ask him as well," he added. "We love each 
other and making love is part of it. That's much more important to us 
than how it feels. It feels good to be joined together."

"When you put it in Julian's butt, doesn't it hurt?"

"Boy, are you full of questions this morning," Alan teased. "No, 
it doesn't hurt. A guy gets used to it quickly. Even if a man did it 
to you, it would only hurt a bit for a while, maybe a few days, and 
then you'd like it."

"Oh!" Stefan smiled shyly. He hesitated. "It's just so small 
back there. I can get my finger in part of the way and then it gets 
pushed out again."

"I didn't say it was easy, did I?" Alan grinned. "You have to be 
patient and it takes some effort, but a penis, even a man's penis, 
can go inside you Stefan, believe me."

"If I did it with a man,... would his really fit in me,... or 
would I have to put mine in him?" Stefan blurted out.

"Hmmm." Alan smirked. "You could, if you wanted," he answered 
vaguely.

"I could what?"

"Either way, Stef, it fits, okay?" Alan teased. "You'd have to 
be careful if you tried to put man's penis inside you, but it would 
fit if you tried. Most boys begin by having sex with other boys but 
some start with men. Why don't you ask Julian? He wasn't much older 
than you are now when he started having sex with a man. You know you 
can always talk to either or both of us about how you feel."

Stefan regarded his 'father' in silence, his penis curiously 
flexing without any guidance from him. He tried to find the courage 
to tell Alan how he felt about Lee.

Alan smiled gently, encouraging Stefan to speak his mind. 
"Anyway, from the look of your dick and the way your questions are 
coming it sounds as though we need to find you a guy of your own."

Stefan reddened slightly and glanced down at his still-very-
erect penis.

                              ***********

"You guys should have won that game," Julian said as he closed 
the door. He paused as he fastened his seat-belt. "You played a good 
game, Stef," he added.

Stefan shrugged slightly. "I missed that one ball," he admitted. 
Ruefully he rubbed his elbow. His elbow and back would be badly 
bruised by the night. Now, he just ached.

"Well, you gave it your best shot. I'm surprised you didn't hurt 
yourself even more than you did." Julian started the car, engaged 
reverse, and backed out of the parking space. "You should have heard 
some of the parents standing beside me."

Stefan smiled weakly, feeling responsible for the zero-one loss. 
One lucky kick! That was all it had been. Covering the ball as it 
came towards him, then a pass to the right, to a player who 
registered in his peripheral vision. God only knows where he came 
from. The goalie spun and leaped backward, his finger tips touching 
the ball as it came towards the net. He landed hard. For a few 
seconds he lay stunned, very frightened that he had broken his back 
or arm.

His team, crowded around him. In defeat, he was still a hero, 
even to the boys who had not seen his display of gymnastic skill. 
Zero-one! Any way he looked at it, it was still his fault the team 
lost. 

Julian turned slightly as he pulled onto the road. He knew why 
Stefan was quiet. "You tried your best," he offered. "Do you want to 
go to the shop? You could do with a haircut, young man. It's nearly 
over your collar."

Stefan nodded and absently brushed his sweat-dampened hair back 
from his forehead. He breathed out and stared at the passing cars as 
he tried to find the words and courage he needed. "Julian," he began 
tentatively.

"Yes?"

"Julian,... Alan said,. well I want to ask you something. Its... 
about... sex."

Julian suppressed his smile. "Sure! Fire away!"

"Promise you won't laugh?"

"Promise? Jesus, Stef, sex can be funny at times, but when you 
want to talk, you have to know by now that I would never laugh at 
you."

Stefan smiled, slightly confused as to why sex could be funny, 
especially when it was such a serious matter to boys of his age, 
notwithstanding the dirty jokes whispered in the playground.

"What's it like?" he blurted out.

"Huh? What is what like?" Julian asked.

"You know,... what Dad does to you! What's if feel like when 
he's inside your butt? Does it hurt?"

Julian swallowed, his throat suddenly becoming dry as he began 
to formulate his answer. He wondered how much he should tell Stefan 
about the exquisite combination of pain and pleasure that came with 
anal sex, how much he needed Alan's penis deep inside him, the 
satisfaction he felt when they were joined, and afterwards when 
Alan's seed remained with him, a wet reminder of their union.

"Stef, you're only eleven. There are some things a boy shouldn't 
know until he's older." he replied.

Stefan nervous expression shifted to momentary anger. "Only?" he 
queried, the sound of juvenile sarcasm audible in his quavering 
unbroken voice. His intellectual maturity contradicted his physical 
development. Outwardly he was still an immature boy. "Since when did 
my age have anything to do with answering my questions?" he added.

"I didn't mean it like that. It's just,... well,... I don't know 
how much you can understand about it. Being in love and having sex is 
something that's hard to understand until,... well it takes time 
that's all."

"Gee, that makes a whole lot of sense," Stefan said dryly. He 
smiled slyly. "How old were you, Julian?"

Julian sighed and made a mental note to thank Alan. "I was about 
your age."

"You did it when you were eleven?" Stefan asked incredulously. 
"Alan said you weren't much older than me when a man did it to you. I 
guess I thought you were a teenager or something."

Julian laughed. "I don't think I was younger than you but I was 
certainly no teenager. I don't know why you're so surprised. Boys are 
perfectly capable of have sex at your age. Of course, most people 
don't like the idea of an eleven-year-old boy having sex so they try 
to stop him. That's why it's illegal for a man to have sex with a boy 
in most countries,... but it still happens all the same."

Stefan glanced down anxiously. The man beside him had the 
answers he needed. "What's it like, Julian? Did it hurt?" he asked 
quietly.

"Hmmmm,.... Yes, I remember it hurt pretty bad the first few 
times. It goes away quickly. It's only bad for a short time before 
you get used to it," Julian added swiftly. "I guess your big question 
is what does it feel like." Stefan nodded. "It feels good, Stefan. 
That's why guys do it, of course, because they like how it feels. 
It's the best feeling you'll ever have. Part of you feels like you 
want to die and the rest of you wants to go on living forever."

Julian thought back remembering his first love. "He was a 
wonderful guy, Stefan, and I was very lucky. He was thirty-two and he 
lived in the apartment next door. My mom used to work the night shift 
and he used to come to our place every night to make sure I was okay 
by myself. He would help me with my homework and we'd play games 
together. In fact, most nights we even had dinner together. I think I 
knew him for about a year before anything happened."

"Tell me," Stefan said with growing interest.

"You want to know what happened?" Julian teased. Stefan nodded 
agreeably. "Well, I guess if you're interested then you're old enough 
to know," he laughed. "When you realize he was old enough to be my 
father, and I never knew my real father, maybe it was to be expected. 
I worshipped him so much. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I 
fell in love with him, Stefan. That's important!"

"Did he love you?"

Julian nodded. "Sometimes I think he loved me more than I loved 
him. Some men are like that. They truly love boys the same way that 
Alan and I love each other. Most people would never understand that, 
you know. Anyway, we used to wrestle after dinner. It was a way for 
me to touch him and not worry about it. I used to get a hard-on every 
time but somehow I convinced myself that he didn't notice. God, I 
practically humped him."

"Huh? Humped?"

Julian smiled, realizing that Stefan's high intelligence did not 
mean that he necessarily understood what sex entailed. "It means 
rubbing yourself against another person. It's what you do when you're 
feeling horny."

"Oh!" Stefan blushed and looked down quickly as he remembered 
what he had done earlier with Alan. He had 'humped'. "Is that bad?" 
he asked uncertainly.

Again Julian smiled. "Bad? No, hardly. It just means that you 
want to have sex." He waited until Stefan looked up again. "When boys 
feel like that, they need physical contact." Stefan's lips pursed as 
if to comment. Julian continued. "Anyway, one night things got out of 
control I guess you could say. My mom was away at work and we were 
lying on the floor in front of the tv. When the commercials came on 
we started to wrestle. After about a minute my dick was as hard as it 
could be. Somehow I knew it was different to the other times I had 
humped him. I ended up on top of him, pumping away for all I was 
worth and then he started to tickle me. The more I laughed, the worse 
it was. I humped him as hard as I could and he tickled me until I 
hurt from laughing so hard."

Julian paused, thinking back to that first night. It was like a 
fuse had been lit and it was racing towards an inevitable explosion. 
Everything happened so quickly but he would never forget the wonder 
of it. Even amid the pain of first entry and the shock of losing his 
virginity, there had been incredible pleasure. It ignited a fire 
within him. And then there was the explosion. He sighed.

"He put his hands on my hips and started to move me up and down. 
He did what I wanted him to do Stefan. Our dicks came together, at 
least part of them because his stretched right up past my belly 
button. I could feel it under my pants. It felt so hot and hard. 
After a few minutes he pulled my pants halfway down."

Stefan watched him in interest, vaguely aware of the slow 
expansion in Julian's crotch, the demanding heat in his own groin, 
his little penis taut and constricted by his briefs. His mind created 
the picture, his imagination unleashed. He was Julian. It would feel 
good, so good that he would barely be able to stand it. He would be 
overwhelmed, just as Julian had succumbed to an inner desire.

"He rolled me onto my back and finished the job. It certainly 
wasn't the first time he'd seen me naked, or even with an erection, 
but this was very different. Every night he used to come into the 
bathroom and watch me take a bath. Most boys get frequent erections 
at your age, and I was no exception in the bathtub."

"Alan says it's normal for it to get stiff."

"When you're older it's your body's way of telling you when it 
wants you to have sex," Julian chuckled, "but at your age it's stiff 
more often than it's limp. You'd be worn out if you had sex every 
time your dick was hard."

Stefan giggled. "What happened after he took your clothes off?"

Julian raised his eyebrows, intimating that such things were 
private. Although they had been insistent that the boy grow up with 
few inhibitions, Stefan's curiosity was pushing the limits. He 
relented and began to talk openly.

"He began by playing with my penis. Stefan. It wasn't the first 
time he touched me, not by a long shot, but it was a hell of a lot 
different to fooling around in the bathtub and having grab fights 
when we wrestled on the floor. Man, was I hot. He stopped once. I 
guess he was having second thoughts. I reached right out and put his 
hand right back where it belonged. He was giving me the most 
incredible feelings I had ever had. At that moment the last thing I 
wanted him to do was stop."

Stefan smirked. "So if you didn't want him to stop, what did you 
want him to do?"

Julian grinned. "I wanted him to take his clothes off."

"Did he?"

"Eventually. He took me into my bedroom first," Julian admitted. 
"Actually that was the second thing. The first thing he did was take 
me into the kitchen."

"The kitchen? Why the kitchen?" Stefan's voice crackled with 
urgent curiosity.

"To get some oil."

"Oil? I don't understand. What would you need oil for?"

Julian smiled at the boy beside him. He realized he was telling 
Stefan things that he had never told to another person. Not even Alan 
knew all the details. "Hmmmm,... Unlike you I had absolutely no idea 
what guys did. I barely understood what I could do for myself. I just 
knew I wanted him to do whatever he wanted. I think I learned 
everything I needed to know about sex that night, and I do mean 
everything!"

"Everything?" Stefan asked inquisitively. "You mean,... even 
what I asked you about earlier? So what was the oil for? Was he going 
to give you a massage or something?"

"If you hold with the questions, I'll explain, okay! You know 
that tube of stuff we always keep by the bed?"

Stefan nodded and smirked cheekily. "K-Y stuff that I always 
call Kentucky grease? That's the stuff that Alan puts on his dick to 
make it slippery." Slowly the realization dawned. "Ohhhhh! That's why 
he wanted the oil."

Julian nodded. "That why!" He laughed. "Usually K-Y is better 
because it's water-based." He glanced at the youngster. "The reason 
he wanted the oil was to make me especially slippery because I was so 
much smaller than he was. His penis was pretty darn big now I think 
about it. The first time is a lot like putting a square peg in a 
round hole. It can be pretty painful for a while."

"Weren't you afraid?" Stefan asked.

"After a while I knew I wanted his penis in me, Stefan. We were 
very close,... much more than best friends. I thought about him all 
the time. Of course, unlike you, I really didn't understand the 
mechanics of sex except that my dick was somehow involved, but 
something inside me was aching so much that I could barely stand it. 
I guess you could say I had an itch that needed to be scratched. I 
really wasn't afraid, at least not of him. I think I was more scared 
that I wasn't doing what I was supposed to do."

"How did you know what to do?" Stefan squeaked. His voice was 
nervous, a clear indication not only of his immaturity but of his 
rapidly growing excitement.

"That's the point. I didn't know anything about sex. He wanted 
me just like I wanted him. I learned by doing it. Paul said I should 
do what felt good and I did. I experimented. That's how most boys 
find out about sex."

Julian remembered the man's loving caresses, warm fingers 
dancing on his virgin body, arousing nerves, tickling places never 
touched by another person, his urge becoming stronger until he was 
overwhelmed. Then Paul sucked him, consumed his penis and testicles 
until he was swallowed whole, slobbering on his juvenile member until 
he bucking wildly. Paul's finger sought his anus and pushed into him. 
He covered his body with kisses, squeezing nipples until they were 
hard bumps on his flawless chest, pushing his finger in deeper and 
deeper until it was beyond the second joint and almost touching 
something that threatened to send shivers through him. And then the 
finger came out. The next time, only moments later and covered in 
oil, it slid in without hesitation. All the way in despite the 
reluctance of his sphincter, a sudden spasm of rejection, a vain 
attempt to preserve his innocence, then slowly moving back and forth.

The sensation was like no other. Paul's finger found his magic 
spot and centered the pressure. Julian remembered the fearful 
pleasure that came almost instantaneously. He pulled away then pushed 
down harder, squeezing his buttocks against Paul's hand, his finger 
fully contained in his rectum. He lost all sense of time. He was 
aware of nothing except Paul's gentle movements, coaxing him to do 
only what he wanted and nothing more. He soared, increasingly aroused 
until his body was out of control and he jerked in frenzied 
expectation of something that always seemed out of reach. Amid his 
own guilty confusion he grasped that Paul was coaching him to accept 
what he was doing, to express his desire without restraint, to be 
himself. From deep inside the nearly twelve-year-old boy, an obscene 
moan of ecstasy announced that he was ready for the final step. 
Julian smiled.

"I've never even told Alan this," he began, "but Paul changed me 
forever. He was very gentle with me, Stefan. When I felt his cock 
between my ass-cheeks it felt so soothing. It felt like a big velvet 
ball that wanted to get inside me, rather like a tennis ball only 
smaller. I wanted it too. So he pushed and I pushed. Boy did it hurt! 
But I really didn't mind the pain all that much, and you know, just 
when I thought I couldn't do it, I felt it inside me. I felt so full 
and the head was only just in me. It was like I was stretched wide 
open and I needed to get even bigger."

Stefan swallowed anxiously. "But you said he was very gentle," 
he reminded the man beside him. 

Julian nodded. "He was gentle. But you have to understand that a 
boy's anus is a lot smaller than a man's cock, Stefan. It takes a 
while to get used to it, that's all. I expect it took me a few 
minutes. The first time I only took about half of his cock, but four 
inches is plenty especially when it's as thick as Paul's, believe me." 

Julian slowed the car as he pulled into the curb. He turned off 
the engine and rested in his seat. Every detail was clear despite the 
passage of years. Paul had been an excellent teacher and he was a 
willing pupil. He remembered feeling like a thick stake had been 
forced into his anus, a plug of living flesh that moved of its own 
accord and overwhelmed his sanity as it began to feel better and 
better. As the pain diminished, he experienced waves of pleasure that 
he would never forget. He took a deep breath.

"He made love to me in a way I had never dreamed possible, 
Stefan. After Paul there was no one else who even came close until I 
met Alan. Most people really don't understand what it's like for a 
boy to have sex with a man. It's hard to explain. I know it changed 
me."

"How?"

"Like I said, I wanted him, Stefan. Part of me was missing and 
he made me complete. I lived for him and I loved him so much I could 
barely stand to be apart from him while I was at school. We had sex 
every night from then on."

"Alan said it only hurt for a while," Stefan ventured.

"Alan is right. After a few times the pain went away almost 
immediately. So long as your anus is big enough not to get torn by 
his penis, that's usually the way it is. It's really just a matter of 
getting used to it before you really enjoy it."

Stefan smiled weakly and tried to visualize the end result. He 
knew how large a man's erect penis was. When he tried to insert the 
tip of his finger into his anus it seemed to be very tight. It took 
effort to get the first inch inside, and while it feel okay, it was a 
long way short of being the incredible experience that Julian and 
Alan claimed it to be. Try as he could he still did not understand.

"Julian, why does it feel so good?" he asked.

For a moment Julian wondered how to answer the youngster's 
question. "Because it does," he began. He grinned and playfully 
ruffled Stefan's hair. "I know because isn't an answer. Inside you is 
something called a prostate. His penis rubs against it. That's 
partially why it feels so good. But there's more to it than that. If 
you love him, then you want him there, Stefan. You need him to be 
inside you because it brings both of you closer. Part of him joins 
with you and you become one. It's the way two guys show how much they 
love each other."

"Oh!" Stefan said thoughtfully. "But how do you know when you 
love someone?"

Julian grinned. "Stefan, you are just full of questions today, 
aren't you?"

                                  ***********

Chris Turner watched his partner get out of the car. He smiled 
gleefully the instant he observed the boy. Julian and Alan had 
adopted him shortly after they had opened the salon and Stefan spent 
the first four years of his life playing there. Even at four years 
old he was a sexy little thing, Chris mused, but now? His loins ached 
every time Stefan came to the shop. Was it worse when the boy wore 
tight blue jeans that pulled into his crack and made his butt-cheeks 
look like two firm melons, or like now, when he wore loose soccer 
shops and his legs were bare from his calf-muscles to his upper 
thighs. Chris Turner drooled.

By the time Julian and Stefan came through the door his penis 
was stretched out along his leg, a firm hot bulge that reminded him 
that he had not jerked off since the night before. In his jaded eyes, 
Stefan was much more desirable than the naked boy-nymphs he watched 
on his illicit videos. 

"Hi Ju!" Chris said gaily. 

"Hi Chris! How's the day been?" Julian asked as he closed the 
door behind Stefan. He was aware that Stefan was staring out the 
window, doing his best not to look at the other man, his partner of 
eleven years. It was no different to Stefan's last few visits. Those 
times Stefan averted his gaze, eyes downcast, mumbling in 
monosyllables as if he was afraid to address Chris. He suspected 
puppy love. 

"It's been quiet today. It must be the weather. There were three 
cancellations. I had an appointment with Mrs. Buchanan and her 
daughter, and Deirdre came by for a trim. I had a walk-in around ten, 
a pretty blond thing from the East-side wanted a perm, oh, and 
Sebastian was already here for his Saturday regular."

Julian nodded. Most Saturday's were busier but after four 
weekends of dreary rain, the sunny weather was certain to alter their 
customers' plans.

"I came by to do the books. Stefan needs a trim too. Would you 
mind?"

"Me? I'd love to darling," Chris tittered happily.

He glanced at Stefan and noted the boy's nervous avoidance. He 
winked at Julian, and gestured effeminately with his hand. They both 
knew what Stefan's problem was. 

"Okay Stef?" Julian teased. "Maybe you'd like Chris to give you 
a punk look, a perm and streak, perhaps?"

Stefan shrugged with pretended disinterest as he stared down at 
the vinyl tiles. If Julian did not know better, he would have 
mistakenly concluded Stefan was pouting and not in the throes of a 
pre-adolescent crush. He did not answer as he led the way to the 
nearest reclining seat in front of the sink. Chris fastened the smock 
around his neck and Stefan sat down and leaned back, positioning his 
head over the sink. He closed his eyes and waited.

Chris' look towards Julian conveyed his lust. Infatuation with 
the provocative youngster was evident in his hesitation. It was as if 
merely touching the handsome boy was more stimulation than he could 
bear. Julian watched with interest for nearly a minute. 

"Your hair is so shiny," Chris admired. "And soft! My, it's 
soft."

His eyes travelled hungrily over Stefan's exposed legs. The 
smock covered his torso and upper thighs. It looked very much as if 
he was naked under it. His brilliant yellow socks and black soccer 
boots added to the fantasy. With soapy fingers, Chris began to 
massage the small head, working the white foam around and around to 
create a mass of dark curls. He rubbed abound Stefan's ears, 
playfully tweaking his earlobes, placing a white dollop of shampoo on 
the tip of his nose, openly flirting. Stefan was in good hands, 
Julian decided.

After a thorough rinsing, Chris dried most of the water away by 
dabbing gently. With his hair tousled and wet, Stefan was the essence 
of prepubescent boyhood. Chris smiled, delighted to be close to the 
perfect boy. To Chris, Stefan was the ideal lover. Without the rugged 
masculinity of some pre-teen boys, he possessed the soft gentleness 
that the man longed for. It was all he could do not to rub his groin 
against the chair, so close to Stefan's slender shoulder. He 
contented himself by paying attention to his craft.

"How do you want your hair cut?" he finally squeaked nervously.

"Huh?" Stefan was startled by the sudden interruption to his 
thoughts. "Oh,... Yeah, I guess like always," he mumbled self-
consciously. 

Chris smirked teasingly as he stepped into the youngster's line 
of sight. "You really ought to try something different. Something 
that, well,.... makes you look different," he said slowly, his 
hesitation implying that Stefan needed to do something about his 
appearance.

"Like what?" Stefan challenged, his defensiveness right on cue.

"Hmmmm,...." Chris stepped back and with an artistic flair 
gestured broadly. "Something fashionable,... something that makes a 
statement about who,... and what you are,..." He smiled. "Something 
sexy."

Stefan felt the sudden flow of heat up his neck as his cheeks 
blushed. He was nervous and yet he was excited. He suddenly 
understood that the man was flirting with him. "Like what?" he asked.

"Like what? Like something punk."

"Punk? You mean like what those kids wear in England?" Stefan 
asked awkwardly. He remembered the outrageous hair-styles and 
clothing he had seen six months earlier when he had visited London 
with Julian and Alan.

"It's all the rage in L.A. too," Chris offered with a pretended 
British accent. "You'd look good with a blue streak down the center," 
he teased. "Alan and Julian wouldn't recognize you by the time I'd 
finished."

Stefan shrugged with pretended disinterest. "How would you cut 
my hair?"

"With a mohawk, if you'd like. You'd might need a perm to make 
it stand up because your hair is so soft and fine." Chris paused. 
You'd look very sexy as well," he added suggestively. "Some people I 
know wouldn't be able to keep their hands off you!"

Stefan grinned. "Okay! Do it!"

He half-expected Chris to withdraw the offer but that was not 
too be. The man was too consumed with lust for the slender boy 
reclining on the seat before him. His rigid penis ached for relief as 
it arched into the tight confines of his trousers. He raised his 
eyebrows with an unspoken question. He was met by Stefan's 
challenging eyes. It was as if the boy sensed the effect he was 
having on the man and wanted to test his mettle. How far would he go? 
It was an interesting question.

"Are you sure?" Chris asked as he stepped away mincingly out of 
Stefan's view. "I don't think Julian will mind very much, but Alan 
might get upset when he sees how sexy you really are. And you are 
really are a very sexy boy, Stef'," he emphasized softly.

Stefan glared into the wall-long mirror suspiciously. He felt 
his heart beating faster than normal, a surge of excitement, of 
knowing. He swallowed, wanting to deny what Chris had not expressed. 
He was gay. They were both gay. It explained the curious attraction 
he felt towards the man. By the moral standards of other boys his 
age, he should have felt revulsion. Instead, he felt relief, as if a 
weight had been lifted from his chest. He started to relax into the 
sticky vinyl seat beneath him and Chris moved behind him and began to 
work.

Looking down, Chris could sense the young boy's uncertainty. He 
had been the same way when he first became aware that he was 
different to other boys, but he had not been so confident. Perhaps it 
had been because he was older, perhaps because he had been afraid. 
Afraid of his parents' reaction, afraid of his friends' ridicule, 
afraid to be himself. 

Stefan's eyes were closed as Chris brushed carefully, shaping 
the dark wet locks, reluctant to cut for fear of disturbing the boy's 
solitude. He began to trim, clipping expertly. The scissors darted 
back and forth, clicking repetitively as strands of hair dropped onto 
the plastic cloak. Stefan's slender neck enthralled him. He imagined 
his hands around it, his thumbs stroking the silky fur at the nape, 
lifting the beautiful face up and pressing his lips hard against the 
boy's willing lips. He imagined a hot wet kiss, given and taken with 
surprising passion. He stepped back and realigned his burgeoning 
erection, avoiding the persistent demand to touch the vibrant young 
body before him.

He spoke quietly, his tone reassuring, teasing Stefan playfully 
about girlfriends he would never have, sly insinuations about Julian 
and Alan sex life.

Finished with his masterly work he took a deep breath and 
surveyed the style he had imposed. He had changed Stefan. The new 
Stefan was perfection personified, his delicate features emphasized, 
his facial characteristics amplified, his identify forged and 
precisely refined. With building pride he rotated the chair, 
unprepared for the reaction.

Stefan shrieked. "You made me look QUEER!"

Chris gulped. He heard the disgust in the youngster's voice, the 
sudden realization that the faggot-boy he stared at in horror was 
himself. He could no longer deny it! He was a homosexual, just like 
Alan, and Julian, and Chris.

"You,... look beautiful," Chris muttered. "You really do!"

"It suits you," Julian said loudly. He stood in the doorway to 
the office. "I think Chris did a great job. Alan won't believe it's 
really you. The difference is incredible."

"No!" Stefan countered. "I,... I hate it! I,... I don't want to 
look like this!"

Julian sighed. "Are you ashamed of being gay, Stefan?" he asked 
gently. "Are you ashamed to be like Alan and me?"

Stefan shuddered. He was the same as Alan and Julian. Had they 
made him homosexual? God only knew, they talked about it with him 
often enough. But he had been born that way. When they selected him, 
culled him from three dozen other baby boys at the orphanage in 
Yugoslavia, they had only wanted a son. They had hopes, of course, 
but there was no way anyone could tell from the appearance of a baby 
what he would be when he grew up, was there?

"I'm not ashamed!" Stefan countered. "It's just,... God, Julian, 
I don't want people to make fun of me, that's all!"

Julian smiled reassuringly. "Some of your friends make fun of 
Alan and me, you know they do."

"They aren't my friends," Stefan said with increasing anger.

"Do you hate me that much for being gay?" Julian asked carefully.

He stopped himself, mentally trying to distance himself from his 
feelings. It was a trick he had taught himself years earlier when he 
was constantly taunted by two other boys about the sexual orientation 
of the two men he knew as his parents. At seven years old he did not 
understand why people rejected them, laughed at them, made crude and 
obscene comments about what they did in private, even insinuating 
that they did the same things with him. When he asked Alan and Julian 
why, the answer was simple. With objectivity, there was no reason why 
two men could not love each other just as much as a man and a woman. 
However the Christian morality that governed society was not 
rational, it was merely convenient, a specious morality directed to 
reproduction of the species. It did matter that David was the beloved 
of Saul. That was conveniently overlooked just as the Hellenic and 
Arabic traditions were overlooked.

"I don't care that you're gay. I know better than that. You know 
that!"

"Then what are you afraid of, Stefan?"

Stefan swallowed. "I,... I don't know. It's,... it's just 
that,..." he could feel tears welling in his eyes and his hand lifted 
to wipe them away. He glared at the faggot-boy in the mirror. Such a 
pretty boy, even his pouting expression was overtly sexual. The punk 
hairstyle exaggerated his youthful features, still more feminine than 
masculine. He wanted not to be that boy, and although he seemed so 
far away, there was no denying the fact.

"We better get to the math contest," Stefan added without 
conviction. 

Julian nodded, hesitantly acknowledging Stefan's reluctance to 
go into the street and show himself in public. Stefan was growing up 
quickly.

                             *********

They talked little on the drive to the university. Even the 
fifteen minute search for the Harlington School of Mathematics evoked 
only muttered comments from Stefan. Afraid of being late, of drawing 
even more attention to himself, he became very quiet. However his 
fears were unfounded. Among two hundred college students, and fifty 
high-school students, his strange appearance was normal. What was not 
normal was his age and size!

Professor Denton personally escorted him from the registration 
table to his classroom for the problems in differential calculus. 
Stefan surveyed the room. They looked like geeks, he decided 
unhappily. What was worse, most of them wore glasses so they looked 
like they spent their lives doing nothing except advanced problems in 
calculus. He looked up at Professor Denton and saw his encouraging 
smile. The man, more than old enough to be his father, too young to 
be his grandfather, seemed to look into his eyes and find the 
insecurity he harbored. He was scared stiff, unlike the serene boy 
who usually conquered test after test. The man winked at him and 
Stefan smiled weakly as he slowly sank into his seat.

Problem after problem, each more difficult than the preceding 
one, dealing with theoretical constructs that Stefan had barely time 
to glance at before he had to begin his solution.

There was a clock on the wall and it slowly clicked, each 
passing minute identified as the large hand inched further towards 
the hour. Stefan came to the last problem and stared at it until his 
eyes hurt. Even the words that described the motion of the moving 
pendulum left him in confusion. "Oscillation", "periodicity", "mean 
acceleration" were barely understood. The equation seemed wrong, the 
factor for gravity meaningless. He scribbled, tried to rearrange the 
equation to something more intelligible, gave up and rubbed his brow. 
He tried again, drawing a picture of the thing. Finally he stopped, 
totally confused. It was impossible. He lifted his pencil and 
scrawled in juvenile script, "impossible!"

Moments later the man at the front of the room gave the order to 
stop work. Stefan handed in his paper and scurried from the room. His 
brisk walk, at a pace just short of jogging, brought the red-faced 
boy back to the pre-assigned meeting place with Julian. Julian stood 
up as Stefan came up to him.

"Hi! So how did it go? Did you ace it?"

"I screwed up," Stefan said quietly. His eyes, wet and reddened 
with shame, were downcast.

"Come on! It can't be that bad. You're a math genius!"

"It was hard. I could only do some of the problems. I tried! I 
really did!" Stefan answered. "The last problem was impossible."

"Well, I know you did your best. Tell me about the last 
problem," Julian suggested reassuringly.

"It was impossible. It was about a pendulum swinging. YOu had to 
figure out the rate of acceleration using differentiation, only,... 
it couldn't be done. I thought it could at first and then I realized. 
The pendulum was swinging in four dimensions. That's impossible," 
Stefan said adamantly.

Julian smiled, concealing his ignorance. Hairdressing was a lot 
simpler. The biggest problem was keeping the ladies happy when they 
sat for a perm. Perhaps Alan would understand. "It sounds very 
difficult. Maybe you'll get points for trying."

Stefan shrugged and led the way to the car, anxious to distance 
himself as far as possible from his ignominious performance.

                              *********

Accordingly, he was surprised when the telephone rang later on 
that evening and Alan shouted for him to take the call. It was the 
professor from the math competition, a soft-spoken man who introduced 
himself as Matt Denton. 

"I wanted to speak to you in person," Matt said. 

Stefan was silent, his heart beating faster than normal. For 
some strange reason he liked the sound of the man's voice on the 
telephone. They shared a brief but very thoughtful moment.

"Why was the last problem impossible?" Matt asked. "At least 
that's what you wrote."

"I,... I,... I d-d-don't know," Stefan stammered. "I,... I tried 
to do it!" he blurted out. "It didn't make any sense."

"Don't be worried, Stefan. By the way, you did very well. No 
that's wrong. You did exceptionally well. Could you talk to me about 
the last problem? Why didn't make any sense?"

"Okay! It was the four dimensions the pendulum was supposed to 
move through."

"Because there were four dimensions and not three dimensions?" 
Matt prompted.

"Uh,... no,... I just expected it was one of those theoretical 
problems, Sir."

"You tried to draw it?" Matt suggested.

Stefan laughed. "It's rather hard to draw in four dimensions."

"Even if time is the fourth dimension?"

"But it can't be!" Stefan exclaimed. "Professor Denton, it just 
is impossible."

"Why?"

"Because of the values you get from the cosines. There isn't a 
solution."

"But not all the equations are cosines," Matt said. "You have at 
least two ways of getting a value for the acceleration."

Stefan shook his head and then sighed. He had given that problem 
everything he had. Partial derivatives were exceedingly difficult. "I 
tried. I couldn't get it to solve at anything other than the bottom 
of the oscillation. An there was no reason to assume that was where 
the greatest acceleration occurred."

Matt shivered. He stared at the boy's scratchings. There was an 
arrow pointing at the center of the crude drawing of a pendulum and a 
long list of values and awkwardly formed characters. The gamma value 
was incorrect but it really did not matter. The boy was a true 
genius, Matt realized in a flash. He had found what none of the other 
students had seen. He was one of the once-in-a-lifetime people who 
not only had a natural insight into the complex and arcane world of 
equations and numbers but possessed the ability to understand their 
relationships.

Stefan waited for the man to say something, anything. He longed 
to hear the soft tones of his voice in the receiver. The voice 
entranced him. 

"Why didn't you say something?" Matt asked at last. "You're 
right, there is no solution to the problem the way its written."

"It was a trick?" Stefan asked uncertainly.

"A trick?" Matt chuckled. "Hardly! It looks like I really 
screwed up!" 

"Oh! I thought it was me!"

Again Matt laughed. He enjoyed talking to the boy. His 
mathematical gifts aside, his outstanding accomplishments on a very 
demanding test aside, he still felt a powerful affinity to the 
handsome youngster. It was sexual, of course. He knew that from the 
outset, from the moment he first laid eyes on the boy, from the 
thrill he experienced from merely escorting Stefan to his seat in the 
classroom. From behind the thick lenses of his glasses, he thought 
the boy was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

"So, tell me about yourself, Stefan," Matt said with the nervous 
excitement of a thirteen year old on his first date. "How old are 
you? What grade are you in?"

"I'm eleven! I'm in sixth grade."

"Eleven!" Matt breathed out. "You came second by the way. You 
might like to know that you were beaten by a second year doctoral 
student..... I'm stunned that you were able to even understand the 
test, let alone get the majority of the questions right. Two of the 
questions you got wrong I generally have to use optimized code for. 
They're what we call 3-D solid isoparametrics."

"I had trouble with some of the words," Stefan admitted. "And I 
didn't do so hot on the element matrices."

"You did great, Stefan. You got them all at least partially 
right. I am really surprised that you had any idea about Gaussian 
quadrature."

Stefan grinned. "I didn't until a few weeks ago. I guess I got 
interested in it. when I was trying to do a problem on my computer."

Matt hesitated. "Stefan,... what I'm going to say next is,... 
well it's very important. You have a very special skill. I guess you 
know that already."

"My math teacher doesn't know what to do with me. She's been 
borrowing books from the high school for me," Stefan said as he 
warmed to the man. "She says I'm a pain in the neck, only she really 
doesn't mean it. She's cool! Most of the kids at school think I'm a 
nerd!"

"Well, I think you are one radical kid!" Matt hesitated. 

He questioned his motives. Was it because the boy aroused his 
desire, an unspeakable desire that he kept submerged, or because of 
his special abilities? He could help this boy, but could he do it 
without trying to have sex with him? The prospect frightened him, 
excited him, unnerved him.

"S-S-Stefan,..." he paused again, uncertain. He was risking his 
career and reputation. He would need all of his self control to 
survive temptation. "Stefan, what I'd like to do is to offer you is a 
place in math program here at the University."

"I want to start in the Saturday morning classes, especially the 
one on Chaos Theory, only I'm still too young. I have to wait until 
I'm thirteen," Stefan said. 

"I think you'd be wasting your time. Those classes are for 
advanced high school students. That's not you. You're truly gifted 
and you should be studying under a great mathematician like 
Mandelbrot. You'd be the youngest student there, of course, but I 
know you'll be incredibly successful."

"I suppose I'll go to college after I finish high school," 
Stefan answered vaguely.

"I'm not talking about six years from now! I'm talking about 
right now! You could start in a few months."

"A few months?"

"There'd be a few problems I'd have to clear out of the way. 
There's a university rule that says you have to be at least sixteen 
to be admitted, but I think I can get the Board of Trustees to make 
an exception when they know the facts."

"I,... I don't know," Stefan answered anxiously. He remembered 
how the other competitors had towered over him. He remembered their 
deep voices, so different to his own still pre-pubescent voice. 
Except for the Asian students with their smooth ochre complexions, 
the other competitors' chins were darkened with mid-day beards.

"Stefan, you don't have to say yes right away," Matt offered 
hopefully. His eyes had been drawn to the boy again and again. He 
remembered a studious face, with refined features, aquiline nose and 
full lips, a beautiful boy's face. He sensed the reluctance on the 
other end. More than anything else, he needed to see the boy again. 

"Maybe I could come to your house tomorrow afternoon and talk 
with your parents," he suggested. "You know there's nothing to be 
scared of. I'd assign my graduate student to watch over you. You'd be 
able to live at home, of course. " 

Stefan thought quickly. It had taken nearly an hour's drive from 
his house to the University. That was two hours every day, probably 
more if they had to go when the traffic was at its busiest. There was 
no way that Alan or Julian would drive him every day, and the thought 
of taking a bus downtown by himself and changing to another bus 
frightened him. And yet, the idea of studying mathematics at the 
highest level possible appealed to him.

"I,... I don't think it's going to work out," he murmured.

"Huh? I'm sorry, Stefan. I didn't hear what you just said."

"Uh, um, you know I can't drive a car yet," Stefan joked.

"Huh! Of course you can't drive. You're not even twelve yet!"

"How will I get there? I live in Richmond. It's at least 40 
miles from here." 

"Oh! Yes, I suppose that is going to be a problem, isn't it? I 
didn't think about how you would get here. It's a pity you don't live 
closer," Matt said slowly. "There is no way I'd allow you to live in 
one of the dorms. You wouldn't last five minutes."

There was a momentary pause that became longer until the silence 
was disturbing. 

"I'd really like to go to college," Stefan said with 
disappointment.

"Well, I don't know what to suggest," Matt added. "It's a pity. 
You're a very special boy, Stefan. If I thought it would be possible, 
I'd even offer to have you live in my house. I'm only a few blocks 
away from the campus and there is plenty of room."

Matt's suggestion ricochetted through both minds. So simple a 
solution, so practical, so impossible. 

"Huh?" Stefan muttered. "I could live with you?"

"I suppose," Matt volunteered. "If it was okay by your parents, 
I would really enjoy the company. I have a big old house. There's 
just me and my dogs. I have a lady who cleans and cooks, but she 
leaves in the evening. I do get quite lonely by myself."

Stefan said nothing. His mind raced. He remembered the man's 
pleasant face. He was older, in his fifties. His voice was almost 
fatherly as he talked. 

"It is an interesting idea, but of course, your parents wouldn't 
allow it, even if it was possible to schedule your classes so you'd 
be with me for three of four days at a time," Matt continued. He 
sighed loudly into the receiver. "Never in a million years!"

                              *********

Professor Matt Denton had the guest bedroom redecorated for his 
young house guest. Even for three nights per week, especially for 
three nights per week, he wanted Stefan to be comfortable. A 
transformation was wrought, from Victorian Gothic to pre-adolescent 
modern. Stefan's bedroom was complete with primary colors, metal-
framed posters of a Porsche 959 and a Ferrari Testarossa, and a desk 
and chair from the Knoll Collection. A queen-size bed with a 
vibrantly colored comforter completed the ensemble.

He waited Stefan's arrival anxiously. From his study, he looked 
up every time a car passed. Still thirty minutes to go, he reasoned, 
and there was no reason why they would arrive earlier than planned. 
He went up to Stefan's bedroom and straightened a perfectly smooth 
comforter for the third time. He smiled, musing at how easy it had 
been after he had met with Stefan's parents. The situation was 
obvious from the outset. At the very first meeting, dinner at 
Guilio's, Stefan was accompanied by both Alan and Julian. Their 
relationship was evident from the closeness they shared. Matt 
discovered that not only were they lovers, but they were open-minded 
enough to extend the same flexibility to their adopted son. Within 
minutes they had sized him up, recognizing that his offer of a part-
time home, while initially pedagogically motivated, was not 
inappropriate for Stefan given his natural inclinations. They 
welcomed him as the natural solution to a brooding problem. Latter, 
on a whim, Matt had stopped by Alan's office. Over coffee, Matt 
cautioned him to be patient with a boy who was about to take his 
first tentative steps to manhood. 'Give him all the love you have, 
nurture him, and he will be yours', Alan said pointedly.

Matt surveyed the room one last time, hoping that Stefan would 
find his second abode as comfortable as his other home. He wanted the 
boy to be happy. If anything else eventuated, so be it, but he was 
resolved that he would not take the first steps. He intended to give 
Stefan all the love he possessed. 

On the way out the door he stopped by the bookshelf. Already he 
had given Stefan his two most prized possessions, Gaston Julia's 
"Principes Geometriques d'analyse", and "Elements d'algebre", with a 
handwritten note, "To Benoit. You care about solving the difficult 
problems." He hoped Stefan was able to understand French. In some 
areas, French was as much the language of mathematics as it was of 
love. Silently he mouthed the words, "Stefan, je t'adore."

He looked up quickly, distracted from his musings of whispered 
endearments in a young boy's ear when he heard the car's tires on the 
gravel drive. 

"Soon, my little mathematician," he whispered to the room. "Soon 
you will be mine to love and nurture."

He came with little more than could be carried in a small 
suitcase. There were no toys. At the last minute Stefan had removed 
them, discarding them as the playthings of a younger boy, not one who 
was going to attend college. He stood beside Julian, feeling the 
first pangs of homesickness as they proceeded through the farewell 
formalities. Four days, three nights away from home. Only a phone 
call away, Alan reassured him. He accepted their fond good-byes with 
more dignity than anyone expected. 

"You're so grown up," Julian beamed proudly. "In some ways you 
are more mature than a lot of college students."

"This is a great opportunity," Alan added as he surveyed the 
bedroom. "I'm so proud of you. This is just the beginning for you. 
You're a very lucky boy."

Matt smiled down at his youthful protege. ""I'm certain Stefan 
will make all of us very proud."

Julian nodded. He remembered his own youth. His memory was 
strong. It's no more than he deserves. Stefan is a very special boy," 
he said. He turned slightly so that he faced toward Matt. "I expect 
you to do the right thing by him," he added seriously. "He's staying 
here on his terms, not yours'."

Matt swallowed. During the last few weeks he had come to know 
Stefan better than he knew any other person. He loved the brilliant 
mind within the boy as much as he loved the boy in him. His self-
control had been tested and he had survived with honor. There had 
been opportunities, times when Stefan had even seemed to be reaching 
out with uncertain needs he did not understand. Their relationship 
was already more than tutor and student, beyond mere friendship. 
Stefan seemed to be faltering, hesitant to accept the challenge of 
his inner self, to accept himself for what he was. Again. Matt 
resolved to let things proceed at Stefan's own pace and volition.


Finally, afternoon began to change to evening. Matt smiled 
fondly at Stefan as he waved farewell to the departing car. With 
dinner cleared away, Maria had left only minutes before Alan and 
Julian. Now, there was just the two of them.

Slowly Stefan turned to face his mentor. Beyond the thick 
glasses, Matt's eyes gazed into his. It was a magical moment. It was 
not the first time were they alone, but it was very special.

Stefan sighed and smiled weakly. "I guess you're going to make 
me go to bed early so I can be fresh for my first day, huh?"

Matt grinned. Stefan's eyes glistened, alive with youth. Then 
suddenly the truth struck him and his happiness vanished. "You're 
crying."

Stefan started to shake his head. He sniffed slightly and slowly 
nodded. "I miss them already."

"I expect you do. They're your parents. You're supposed to miss 
them."

Stefan laughed. "Which one is my mom?"

Matt chuckled. "I would have thought that was obvious," he 
replied. "Even though the possibility of Julian having a baby defies 
the laws of probability."

"About one chance in a million?" Stefan agreed. "I never knew my 
real mother. I don't know whether she died or just plain didn't want 
me around. All I know is Alan and Julian adopted me from an orphanage 
in Czechoslovakia when I was about six months old."

"They were very lucky," Matt said admiringly. "They hit the 
jackpot with you."

Stefan shrugged. "That's the same thing Julian says about you."

"What? What does he say about me?" Matt enquired sheepishly.

Stefan smiled teasingly. "He's says I'm one hell of a lucky 
kid." He met Matt's eyes. "He's says you're special,...."

"I'm special? How? In what way?"

"Oh,... because you like boys."

"Oh!... What else does he say about me?" Matt asked awkwardly;.

Stefan shrugged again, pretending forgetfulness. "Oh this and 
that."

"Like what?"

"Hm! Maybe that's between me and Julian," Stefan teased 
brutally. "He says,... I should be careful."

"Oh! I'd never do anything to hurt you, Stefan," Matt countered. 
"I think you know I'm very fond of you."

"I expect that's why Julian says I should be careful. Because I 
like you a lot as well."

"Does that bother you?" Matt asked quickly.

Stefan shook his head. "I'm old enough to decide what I want to 
do. I'm old enough to have sex too,... if that's what I want."

Matt's mind reeled. So close to his feelings, so close to his 
ultimate goal. He formulated a problem to divert his rapidly growing 
lust, burgeoning desire like the stiffening penis behind his 
trousers. Perhaps this boy was far more uninhibited about sexual 
matters because he had been raised by two homosexuals, perhaps it was 
the difference between generations. This boy was so confident. 
Supposedly, Stefan the student and he was the teacher, and yet he 
still had so much to learn. 

"I wonder what you really want to do?" he thought aloud.

Stefan's eyes met his. His gaze conveyed his silent approval of 
the man standing before him. Professor Denton was so different to 
Chris. For one thing he was older, and it was not merely a matter of 
a few years. Professor Denton was a mature man with an intellectual 
depth that fascinated him. His voice resonated within him, arousing 
interest as it soothed him. They shared a spiritual affinity, more 
profound than mutual affection and a love of mathematics could 
justify. He was the opposite of Chris, with his flirtatious games and 
off-hand comments. 

"I think you just told me," Matt answered. "You did, didn't you?" 

Stefan nodded fractionally. He swallowed. He felt the exact same 
way Julian and Alan said he would feel. 

'Nervous,... like a thousand butterflies are in your stomach,... 
like you want to jump into his arms. There's no feeling like it, 
Stef. When the time is right, you'll want to hold him tight.... 
Nothing else will matter.... You'll feel as if the only reason you're 
alive is to be with him. That's the way I felt..... That's when you 
should make love with him. Have sex is part of being in love with 
someone.... Trust him. He'll teach you everything you need to know. 
He loves you so he won't hurt you.... Do what your heart tells you to 
do. Do what you want to do. If he wants you to do something you don't 
want to do, don't be afraid to tell him.... He won't love you any 
less.'

The smile on Stefan's face was nothing short of mystical. He 
quivered with the sudden realization. This man would teach him how to 
make love. 

"Do you want to go upstairs to your bedroom?" Matt asked in 
disbelief. 

Stefan nodded again.


***************************************************************

Planet Chadq. Period Twenty-Eight, Scalen Cycle.

A pungent, invisible odor rolls and swirls across the dusty 
crust. The dust lifts, eddying and pluming, leaving a thin, grey film 
on abandoned crystals, discarded like confetti. It settles slowly on 
a wall of ragged metal panels as electrostatic grime. With 
condensation, the dust will turn to acid and slightly etch the 
surface. Over time, it will devour all matter.

The wall of metal spans a deep depression in the fractured, 
hostile environment. It ranges from one craggy mound to the other 
side and fills a cleft between them, a gash in the side of a 
mountain. The wall is ancient and badly weathered, its surface 
stained and pitted from centuries of accumulation and exposure. Even 
the once-impervious surface coating has eroded and become tarnished. 
Now the surface is uniform grey but for a few splashes of indigo 
which are barely recognized as phallic symbols. They are a fading 
reminder of the present purpose of the outpost.

A door, hidden in the seamless, faceless metal wall, appears as 
it slides silently open. The silence is broken by a whirr, a high-
speed whining of distant machinery from deep within the mountain. The 
drone moves quietly. It makes only the barest hum as it glides 
through the opening before it closes behind it. It hovers, scanning 
one side, then the other. A faint laser light begins to blink as the 
drone moves forward and away from the metal panels, searching as it 
goes. The flickering light is yellow, but in the intense ultra-violet 
spectra it appears green. It sees far better than any human eye. Even 
before it has travelled beyond the trampled zone adjacent to the 
wall, it becomes invisible. It fades, shimmers, and is gone. Except 
for the shimmering light, it does not exist. Not even a shadow 
reveals its presence.

The boys wrestling in the arid depression do not see the drone 
approach, or if they do, there is no sign of recognition. The game is 
uninterrupted. Their privacy appears unviolated. They are naked. 
Their increasing sexual arousal is evident in the vigor they bring to 
combat, the protective stances adopted, and the heightened fervor of 
attack and defense. There are four boys but none had reached the 
stage of full erection. That will come later when the victor accepts 
his tribute.

They are surrounded by huge boulders, discarded like gigantic 
marbles of the gods that have split with ear-shattering roars and 
crashed from the summit of the mountain. But even with gigantic, 
igneous tors, the landscape is monotonous and bromidic. The air is 
leaden and the light is insipid. Life itself is tedious in the 
unanimated and moistureless territory. Beside the boulders, the boys 
are puny insignificant creatures. They are the only life that has not 
become scorched and dehydrated in the barren world.

At first glance, as the scuffling boys are scanned by the drone, 
there is only chaos, a twisting, writhing melee of bare, dark flesh 
as the lithe bodies engage and separate. But there is order to the 
affray and it gradually becomes apparent that one boy is defending 
himself against the other three. A stream of data flows from the 
drone as it monitors form and energy dispersal. The pandemonium of 
bare bodies is neither a quarrel nor a conflict. It is a contest. The 
boys scuffle, breaking from their scrimmage as their energies become 
depleted. They are all but oblivious that they are becoming as 
parched as the dusty ground on which they stand. Eyes dart from one 
to the other, awaiting the next eruption. Breathing quickly, they 
move with caution as they watched each other cautiously.

In the ionosphere of Chadq, the space is warped by an 
uncompleted WORM-HOLE. Distorted by an invisible presence that is 
immune to all detection save its own. For the moment, time stands 
still. Another origin has been created in absolute space, connected 
through four dimensions to another smaller world. It exists despite 
the rigor of mathematical proof. It is an Einsteinian impossibility. 
From this metaphysical unity, all space and time begins as the 
harmony of the universe is interposed and transformed by inverse. 
Only one person stands at the origin. That person is Phaedrus, Lord 
High Councillor of the Foyre, Prime Guardian of the Inverse World. 
Before him, a hologram flutters, poised and floating as it begins to 
stabilize. The asomatous image is ethereal and the figures appear as 
apparitions, mere ghosts of corporeal phenomena. He watches intently, 
studying the soft, hazy outlines of the four children as they become 
perceptible. His eyes settle on one boy and follows his every move. 
His existence is real, even though his nude body is not tangible.

"Is he the one? Yes, I think it is." Phaedrus is doubtful but he 
continues to study the child, comparing him to the three other boys. 
"Only he could be mine," he observes aloud.

A smile flees across his stern regimen. There is admiration but 
it is suppressed to the level of mere interest. Too much is at stake 
to do otherwise. 

"He is the one," a confident voice says.

The voice comes suddenly and without warning. There is no source 
and the disembodied voice echoes with a hollow resonance. It reflects 
not from any enclosure for there is none to be found in the relative 
dimensions of time and space between the inverse world and the real 
world.

The smile returns to Phaedrus and lingers before it fades. "Old 
friend, you have done well," he adds with a casual admonition. "Far 
better than I deserve from you. He is a truly remarkable ped."

"Well enough, my liege. I have done only what you asked of me. 
Nothing more, nothing less. The clay was easy to mold even in this 
waterless place."

"No!" Phaedrus intercedes. "Just from the look of him I can tell 
that you have done far more than I asked of you. You have done much 
more than the promise required."

Phaedrus steps closer to the hologram, close enough to reach out 
and touch the boys as they struggle together. The hologram 
fluctuates, changing color and shivering as the alignment shifts back 
and forth across the light spectrum. He gazes at the young boy and 
follows his every move. In the desolate world, the unclothed boys are 
unrivalled but the one boy who holds his attention is startling.

"It is easy when the matter is agreeable. He is very well bred, 
my liege. That one is the pride of Chadq."

Phaedrus nods. "Why is the image so fractured?"

"The ultra-violet is mediating," the voice explains. "At dusk it 
is always this way. It will stabilize as it adjusts to the evening 
conditions."

"That's better," Phaedrus observes a few moments later.

His eyes still have not shifted away from the boy. He 
scrutinizes the lithe form and observes a slender body that conceals 
strength which is unmatched by the others. He is by far the most 
attractive child despite his unusual coloring. His hair draws 
Phaedrus attention. A thick, straight mane stands up a hand's breadth 
from his head. It is a sky-blue plume, like a savage from the planet, 
Tsug. His skin, while dark from solar exposure, is also blue-green 
tinted. The color becomes even more intense on the parts of his wiry 
anatomy that are less exposed to light--under his chin, the insides 
of his thighs, his genitals, and armpits.

"Is he rebellious?" Phaedrus asks curiously.

"He is no more unruly than most peds his age."

"Then why is his hair colored? Is blue fashionable on Chadq this 
year?" Phaedrus challenges with slight amusement.

A metallic laugh echoes. "Because he has your eyes, Phaedrus. 
Because blue is always a problem with Chadq's ultra-violet light. 
Fortunately blue eyes are recessive for Absolutists."

"Blue eyes are not that rare."

"You and Phaenon are the only true ones I have seen in many 
years. I am surprised that your gene was not subordinated when you 
bred."

"Why is this a problem for a ped? It has never been a problem 
for me, Catapygos," Phaedrus continues expectantly.

"On Chadq, all of the peds require isotopes to absorb the excess 
rays. Cadmium-32 was not within the realm of possibility with his 
eyes and he was allergic to all of the Cobalt group. His only isotope 
is Cuprum-24, if Phaenon was not to be blinded, or worse. His 
coloring is one of the unfortunate side effects, unless of course, 
you prefer blue-boys."

"Cadmium-32, Cuprum-24, Cobalt, whatever! It matters little to 
me. The color will fade, will it not?" Phaedrus asks, "Or will he 
grow out of it in time?"

He studies the boy by peering through the shimmer that suddenly 
appears as a haze within the hologram. Again the image is distorted 
and becomes shadowy as the fight becomes more intense. The naked 
figures seem to move in slow motion as if illuminated by a strobe-
light, their fleeting movements could not otherwise be seen. He 
watches carefully, very aware that the agile boy is all sinew, bone, 
and muscle. He moves adroitly, leaping with a graceful arc before his 
feet land sturdily and sprightly. His body's flexibility and poise is 
remarkable. Phaedrus glances away as the voice continues.

"Of course it will fade when he enters the WORM-HOLE, my liege. 
Even on Chadq I have seen it become lighter after a few years into 
manhood, but it never goes away completely. Still, anything is better 
than being blind or dying. With the constant exposure on Chadq, he 
would be dead by now without the isotope."

"Then there is reciprocity failure," Phaedrus suggests in 
dismay. It is difficult for him to accept the possibility that the 
perfect boy may be flawed.

"No, not that! He has always been like this, ever since you 
brought him here. It is unfortunate, but he doesn't mind. Besides, 
there are many who would prefer a ped like him. He is very unusual, 
in more ways than his coloring. You can rest assured that Phaenon 
will always be highly desired, my liege, even with his blue tint."

Phaedrus steps back again. The hologram has stabilized once 
again and the image is clear. The four boys are tensed and an attack 
is imminent. One boy, his boy, prepares to spring. He is pushing his 
feet into the fine sand, crouching as his leg muscles tighten with 
building strain. The fluid dust oozes between his toes. At that 
instant he becomes the aggressor. His onslaught comes without warning 
as he catapults forward into the other three boys. Four denuded and 
hairless bodies are joined in playful combat in the bleak desert. It 
is impossible to define where one boy begins and another ends so 
closely are they locked together.

"Perhaps his coloring does not bother him now, but he may care 
when he's a paedicari, Catapygos," Phaedrus thinks aloud. "I know 
some men who would not like his coloring."

The bodiless voice chuckles, suggesting that it knows far more 
than to accept the last statement of the Councillor. Given the 
proficient skill of the attacker and the consummate ease with which 
he brought the other boys to the ground, it seems impossible that he 
would submit when his time comes to be mounted.

"It's hard to think of him as the passive one, my liege. Phaenon 
is no pathicus. When he's older, the man who buggers him will, no 
doubt, have to turn about himself." He laughs as he considers the 
prospect of a mere boy mounting a man. "He has the will if not the 
size to do it, and even that will come in time."

"Perhaps," Phaedrus says agreeably. "But there are few things in 
the universe much worse than an aggressive ped."

"I agree. It's always better if a ped takes a man's worm in his 
ass without wanting to return the favor. Even if the boy is a pretty 
one like Phaenon."

There is a long pause as he watches the boys tumbling together. 
Their fight is becoming vigorous, increasingly charged with latent 
eroticism. Even though the boys are still unmatured and their 
sexuality is abeyant, that aspect of their emerging beings is lurking 
under the surface. The potential exists for physical and emotional 
gratification should the opportunity present itself. On Chadq, the 
opportunity usually occurs in the privacy of the desert, but the four 
boys have grown up without inhibition.

"Indeed he is certainly a handsome boy. Perhaps I have other 
plans for him," Phaedrus finally suggests quietly.

"After Phaenon is mounted I'm sure he'll quickly become docile 
enough for any man," the voice continues. "Peds always do. Even the 
most intractable and unruly ones become amenable to being mounted 
once they've been penetrated by a man. It always affects boys the 
same way. Once he has felt the heat in his core he'll become quieter."

"Perhaps he'll want for nothing else. A hard shaft in the behind 
will keep most boys happy," Phaedrus contemplates ambiguously. "I see 
that the other peds are dark-eyed like you, Catapygos," he adds 
casually.

He looks away from the blue-boy for the first time and examines 
the other boys. They are dark-haired, russet-brown in color. It is a 
color not unlike the color of the boulders around them. They are no 
less dark in skin color, but without the blue-green tinge to their 
bodies that the blue-boy has.

"Cadmium-32 makes their color more normal," the voice offers. 
"Two of them are my progeny."

"Yours?" Phaedrus questions. "I didn't know you had mated."

"I bred with a boy-warrior when I was with you on the frontier. 
Hyacinth. He was a handsome youth, a pleasant diversion for a 
centurion during the heat of battle for Yih-ko," the voice replies 
affectionately.

"Yih-ko?" Phaedrus repeats anxiously.

He sighs, undaunted as he remembers the battles on Yih-ko. The 
assault on the planet lasted for ten long years, nearly a deca-cycle. 
The hostiles resisted until it appeared that there was little left 
for either side to fight with or to win as the spoils of victory. The 
final attack began with victory at hand for the Absolutists. He had 
sortied into enemy territory with a force of a three hundred 
warriors, nearly as many peds, and twenty-three edrocs. Skirmishes 
had been frequent until, in a last-ditch effort, he engaged the 
enemy's reserves at Ratastad on Yih-ko. Many of his finest young 
warriors had died and those who survived, found new mates in the 
brief respites between encounters.

"The other ped is a clone," the voice continues. 

"Yours?" Phaedrus questions. "Of course. He looks exactly like 
you, old friend, at least as I can still remember you as a boy."

"He's mine," the voice admits quietly. "After Yih-ko, and the 
massacre at Deam.... So many boys were killed there. I had to do 
something."

"I'm sorry, Catapygos," Phaedrus responds ardently. "I know a 
lot of boys were killed at Deam. Many warriors lost their catamites."

"I do not blame you for what happened, my liege. We will have 
our revenge against the Relativists, sooner or later. The fates are 
on our side."

Phaedrus suspects. His eyes narrow as he wonders how much his 
old friend knows and whether he can be trusted to know the rest of 
it. Only a few Absolutists know of his plan and they have been sworn 
to secrecy. He decides that too much is at stake to tell Catapygos, 
especially given the important role that Phaenon is to play in the 
emerging plot. He changes the subject immediately.

"He's an attractive ped," Phaedrus observes swiftly. "Well 
formed in all his parts and like yourself, he has the length to make 
happiness wherever he goes."

"He was a final attempt to preserve my issue. I did not know at 
the time that my seed had produced with Hyacinth's. After Deam,... it 
is still sad to think that so many boys were terminated,... I wanted 
to ensure my continuation."

Phaedrus sighs again from deep within his chest. The carnage at 
Deam had precipitated many clones, his own included. For himself, the 
need to procreate had been overwhelming. The boy-warriors, all sixty 
that remained of his legion, had been slaughtered at Deam. Their 
naked bodies, genitals mutilated beyond recognition, had been 
butchered and devoured by the victors with the full consent of the 
High Council. He had good reason to hate Relativists with their 
spurious religion and mock-science. But a mere sixty boys paled with 
the final score of the bitter wars.

"I do not remember that you were so well-favored as a child," 
Phaedrus observes fondly. "Your clone is very handsome."

"Nor you, my liege," the voice says softly. There is a long 
silence. "I have not forgotten that you were the most beautiful boy 
on K-0-QAZ. You had no equal in the Universe, as far as I know."

With interest, Phaedrus examines the replicated boy as he 
continues to struggle against his own progeny. Like Phaenon, his 
penis has started to become erect. At first glance he observes that 
the child is genetically identical to its father, now he looks for 
the minor differences of time. There should be physical differences, 
some merely because he is younger than his creator and others, 
because he has been raised in a different environment. Phaedrus 
shudders as he realizes that there is one difference that separates 
the child from his sire and from the other boys who he wrestles with. 
In strict accordance with Universal Law, the boy-clone has been 
emasculated, although not in the traditional way.

Even as the boys merge in a tumble of writhing flesh, the 
peculiar appearance of the clone's genitals is visible. His scrotal 
pouch hangs unnaturally low. The bottom of the pouch is well below 
the tip of his penis before it starts to become hard. Then as the 
small organ becomes stiffer and begins to lift upwards, the 
exaggerated length of the tube-like encasing that encloses his 
scrotum becomes apparent. The boy's testicles form a nearly spherical 
bulb at the end of the tube.

The image is still too distorted for Phaedrus to see the 
carefully woven web that criss-crosses over the tightly bound flesh, 
but he recognizes the method that has been employed as he sees the 
four or five strands of fiber that extend beyond the last knot. The 
stands reach well past the boy's bony knees and they jerk and flip 
from side to side as he moves and rolls on the ground. They will add 
still more to the length of his scrotum before the final knot is tied-
-another one or two more months to be added to the eight or nine 
months that the woven tube has already been there to bunch his 
testicles into a small, hard knob.

If there is any pain from the constriction of his testicles, the 
clone does not reveal it, but he is not oblivious to the pendulum 
bouncing against the inside of his thighs. Occasionally his hands 
slap gently at the distended ball and the dangling length of flesh to 
bounce it or vigorously rub it against his firmly muscled thighs. 
Already he has discovered the pleasures that are unique to the Kanja-
ex.

"It's a pity," Phaedrus muses aloud. "To stretch a boy so young 
is unnatural."

"The law requires it," the voice says flatly. "A clone cannot 
breed, not even with his own family. And neither can he be cloned 
himself."

"Don't lecture me," Phaedrus responds angrily. "I know that 
cloned boys are required by our Law to be sterilized prior to 
puberty."

"My liege, do not be critical of what must be done. Know that I 
have done it only to prevent the dilution of our gene-pool."

Phaedrus sighs and glances at his own offspring. "I know that, 
my friend. If it must be done, why use Kanja-ex and not the 
castration ritual?" Phaenon has backed away, crouching in the dust as 
he readies for the next attack. His lean limbs are tensed, thin 
muscles and tendons drawing into cords. "It the most sacred of all 
Absolutist ceremonies and one that should be respected if the Law 
must be obeyed. You cheat the boy of his heritage."

"Kanja has dire consequences for the unsuspecting boy. I have 
seen peds die from a poorly executed cutting," Catapygos says 
argumentatively. "Is the dagger any better at the time of initiation? 
It is certainly far more painful."

"Nothing is better," Phaedrus says flatly. "I have never 
appreciated the reason."

"We must also protect against over-population. The worlds must 
be kept in balance, my Liege."

Phaedrus snorts. "I didn't know you were a Malthusian, 
Catapygos! What harm is there in another boy, more or less? There 
really is no need to sterilize him and even if over-population was a 
threat, why must it be so,... so visible?"

"Because I have raised him as an true Absolutist. Even our own 
customs require visible evidence of his sterility. You know that as 
well as I do. It would be unfair for his mate to believe otherwise. 
It's far better that it is done well. He has a year for it to stretch 
and become used to it before he is to be mated."

"That's nonsense, and you know it, Catapygos. The Relativists 
want nothing more than mere confirmation that our clones cannot 
reproduce."

"Without balls in his pouch, they know that there can be no 
seed," Catapygos interrupts.

"And without balls, manhood cannot begin for him. The best your 
clone can be is a guardian and even that is doubtful nowadays. It's 
not a matter for debate."

Phaedrus looks at the four boys again. Sadness etches lines in 
his forehead as he watches his own off-spring. The end is drawing 
nearer. All of the boys are panting for breath, their parched tongues 
lolling as they buck and heave, still struggling for dominance. Their 
bodies are dirtied and they covered from head to toe with a dark 
coating of grime. His own child is smudged with wet smears, blood 
splatters from his bleeding nose, drying instantaneously in the dry, 
hot air. The proud boy is close to exhaustion and yet he finds the 
strength somewhere in his slender body to go on fighting. He has been 
bred for endurance.

"It's more than that alone," the voice argues. "I did not want 
to see it done to him either. If all of us cloned ourselves, the 
future would be bleak. We both know that it makes good sense to 
preserve the genetic range."

"True enough, Catapygos. Breeding is important. I cannot 
disagree with your logic." Phaedrus smiles broadly as he watches his 
issue carefully. His victory is at hand. "Yes, that's probably true 
for most clones, I expect. But there are some, perhaps only a few 
peds, for whom I am certain it is not true. For them, breeding must 
be subjugated to the pleasure they can give to others."

The blue-boy stands. He totters on exhausted legs, raising his 
arms in triumph. He had dominion over the other boys who lie in the 
dust, defeated. They watch him with downcast eyes, silently 
acknowledging his superiority. One boy, the clone of Catapygos, 
crawls forward and assumes a position of subjugation at the young 
victor's feet. In ascendancy, the boy smiles at his vassal. His arms 
lower, his hands moving to his groin, his fingers close around his 
penis. His fingers move slightly as they tease the partially limp 
flesh and encourage it to grow longer.

As Phaedrus watches intently, the shaft continues to thicken 
from its half-erect state. Like any boy who is bred in the tradition 
of Absolutism, the slender penis does not become much longer or 
thicker as it grows harder. Fully erect, it will be thin and long, 
although still child-sized. Similarly Absolutist, and very unlike a 
Relativist-boy, this boy is uncircumcised. To do so would be to 
reduce the sensitivity of his most important organ and reduce his 
desirability to men. Thus, and in strict accordance with his 
heritage, his foreskin has been stretched in the year following his 
birth so that it is very long and almost impossible to retract. By 
convention, it will remain over the glans until he becomes the active 
partner and he is circumcised by the High Priest of the Council of 
Foyre.

The boy's small scrotum has contracted and corrugated folds of 
dark blue-tinged skin are exposed below his penis. But the pouch is 
small and it is barely visible even when it is fully relaxed. His 
testicles have become bigger recently and appear to swell in the 
wrinkled pouch like oversized eggs. Indirectly, that fact is the sole 
reason for Phaedrus' visit to Chadq.

 Within moments the young penis is fully erect and pointing to 
the celestial heavens, towards the space-time dissonance of his 
father's existence between two separate worlds. The small, bulbous 
glans bulges in the thin membrane that covers it. Phaedrus smiles 
broadly. The beautiful boy is a warrior as well as a fighter. He 
watches as his son offers his aroused body to the vanquished boy. He 
feels the heat in his own groin and glances downward. Encircled by 
the yellow, metallic ring, his penis has become swollen and dark 
crimson in color. It throbs, jerking as the blood flow is restricted. 
The blood vessels within, but particularly the single thick vein on 
the underside, become prominent as the pressure increases. The color 
darkens, now deep purple.

Even without the constriction afforded by the ring, it is 
different for the boy. He is much younger. Only a single thin vein is 
visible on the underside of his thin penis. That will change as he 
grows older. Once he has been sired and is penis is ringed, the 
rigidity of his small organ will increase. His penis is slightly 
smaller than those of the other boys--many years will pass before it 
is large enough to give real satisfaction in an active role with a 
boy, let alone a grown man.

Phaedrus gazes silently as Catapygos' clone accepts the offering 
of friendship. He still has find memories of his own boyhood and of 
the numerous times that he wrestled with Catapygos on K-0-QAZ. The 
victor's penis enters the boy's mouth and disappears as it surges 
into his throat. He watches the victor's buttocks clench and tighten 
as if squeezing hard, then he relaxes. The dirt smeared cheeks are 
small and firm. The curvature of each rounded half is depressed as if 
pinched and protecting the crevice between them. From that alone, he 
knows that the boy is still a virgin. Once a boy is mounted his 
muscles will be weakened. His willing crack will be relaxed, his 
opening revealed for the appreciation of his mate. He recognizes the 
signs and realizes that Phaenon is rapidly approaching the time for 
his furrow to be ploughed.

Dark urine, like vitriol, dribbles out of the conquered boy's 
mouth, evaporating even before it drops from his chin. It carries 
away the dust and leaves a pale line to mark its trail. On the barren 
planet of Chadq, the taste of human urine is disagreeable and even 
that of an immature boy is nauseating in its bitterness. On K-0-QAZ, 
urine is colorless, like its abundant water, and the taste is not 
unpalatable. It is even delectable, not unlike the finest wines of 
Cgahry, when it is taken from a child. A moment later, the boys part 
and grin broadly at each other. Catapygos' clone licks his lips 
quickly as he relishes the tangy nectar.

Taking the hand extended to him, and with some effort, the boy-
clone stands. He exhibits his affection by embracing the victor. Two 
slender, dirty bodies merge and press, genitals to genitals, joined 
together in seemingly puerile innocence, before they move apart. Now, 
the natural sons of Hyacinth and Catapygos kneel before Phaenon. 
Their arms reach out, extending hands as supplicants receiving a 
blessing as he steps before one and then the other. Only a few 
precious droplets are left. He shares them, fairly distributing his 
body's excretion as he strains hard to eliminate the last of the 
fluid from his almost empty bladder.

He grins as he takes each boy by the hand and lifts him to his 
feet. He embraces both of them, taking longer each time as he becomes 
increasingly sensitized to the hot bare flesh pressing against his 
own naked body. When they part, each boy's penis has become as rigid 
as his own small member. They are both much thicker and longer than 
Phaenon's thin organ. Even the emasculated boy, though not as well 
endowed as his half-brothers, possesses a substantially larger sex. 
It is another sign of Phaenon's inheritance and one thousand years of 
careful breeding. His bloodline has been carefully selected with one 
goal in mind.

Phaedrus smiles as he watches his offspring and wonders which 
boy he will select. It is not an easy choice given the handsome boys 
he has to pick from. Finally Phaenon gestures to the clone. It is the 
same choice his father would have made if Phaenon was not there. Hand 
in hand they walk towards the boulders, seeking privacy for the 
intimate games that always proceed combat. The image distorts and 
begins to shift. As Phaedrus stands, the scene before him changes. He 
steps back and raises his hand as the drone begins to follow the two 
boys.

"Peds need some privacy," Phaedrus says. "It goes without saying 
that I would like to see him copulate, but we have more pressing 
concerns."

"Yes, my liege," the voice. "Your son chooses as he should."

"I would have taken your clone as well," Phaedrus admits 
agreeably. "It's a pity the boy has been gelded already. I would 
mount him myself without any hesitation. I have often wondered about 
combining my seed with yours."

"Phaenon is your offspring, my liege. He chooses exactly as you 
would choose."

Phaedrus shrugs off the barely concealed implication and watches 
as the two boys settle down into the dust behind the nearest boulder. 
They are no longer visible. The other boys wander off in the opposite 
direction, returning to the protected environment behind the metallic 
wall.

"Is the clone of Catapygos a good fuck?" he asks crudely. "Or 
will he put what's hard and hot deep in Phaenon's tight arse?"

Catapygos laughs. "I imagine both will play the man sooner or 
later today. Either way, it doesn't hurt them to practice, my liege. 
Boys will be boys, even in the dust of Chadq. But I'm sure that they 
are too tired to fuck now. Perhaps later when they have rested for a 
while. Now, I expect that they will settle for a good suck instead."

"Perhaps we should have the drone watch them." Phaedrus laughs. 
"It would still be interesting to see them pleasure each other."

"It will remind us what we were like as peds," the voice says 
slowly. "You used to suck me like a Hoyit from the Black Planet."

"And you were always a good fuck too, old friend. And from 
either end, if I remember correctly. Perhaps I should ask you to 
mount him. I can think of no one better suited to the task of taking 
Phaenon's virginity."

There is silence. Phaedrus breathes heavily, thinking quickly as 
he realizes why the other man resists his offer. Catapygos knows or 
strongly suspects. There is no other reason for his hesitation.

"Please, my liege. Do not ask that of me?" the voice says. "Ask 
anything, but not that! A mercenary from Gyoptyer perhaps? I have 
heard that they do such things from time to time. He will not care 
that the boy does not love him."

"Why do you say no?" Phaedrus demands arrogantly. "He is a 
beautiful ped, you have said so yourself. And you would waste him on 
a brute who cares only to fuck his worm in a tight young hole."

In his arrogance exists the need for self-protection. There is 
too much at stake to do other than attack.

"Phaenon is much more than a boy who is merely beautiful. I have 
seen no other to equal him, except one. He is also of the purest 
strain. I'm not blind, Phaedrus. Phaenon is your clone. I have lived 
with him for half a deca-cycle, for nearly twelve Earth-years I've 
watched him and when I see him, I see you as a boy on K-0-QAZ. 
Phaenon is you. He comes from your seed,... alone."

"And if he was, Catapygos? What then? Would you want to castrate 
him even before he starts to ejaculate? Why would you want to take 
the sacred milk away from him?"

The voice is conciliatory, more than prepared to meet halfway. 
"Of course not. I love Phaenon as much as my own progeny. But the law 
is absolutely precise about the treatment of a boy-clone, my liege. 
It must be done, and it must be done soon. There are no options. 
None! And if it's not done before he's mounted, then the man who has 
that delightful responsibility takes on the other task as well. I 
could not do that to Phaenon. I could not take the contents of his 
pouch when my worm is inside him and we are making love."

"Nor could I present that task to a man who did not truly love 
him."

"Then do it yourself, my liege."

"There are alternatives," Phaedrus suggests casually. "Besides 
you, no one knows that Phaenon is my offspring."

"Alternatives? As soon as he is seen by others, it will be 
realized that he's your clone. Why do you resist the law? Isn't it 
enough that you have reproduced? There is only a little pain for him 
if it's done properly and while a Kanja-ped may be unsightly to your 
eyes, it's far preferably to his death. And besides, it does not need 
to be from the dagger. Indeed, some boys even enjoy the Kanja-ex 
while it's there. Even my own son does not complain when it is 
tightened."

"I have other plans for him," Phaedrus says flatly. "Plans that 
are essential for our cause. He cannot be emasculated."

He breathes deeply, knowing that the time has come to be honest 
with Catapygos. He waits in silence as he considers his words.

"Catapygos, what I will tell you must be kept between us."

The voice does not respond for the moment. It is a long silence. 
"When we were boys together on K-0-QAZ, we mated as often as the 
stars rose and set, my liege. Your worm has been in my bowels as 
often as mine has been in yours. We took our turn at each end of it."

"It was only fair. Besides, there is enjoyment either way."

"I have trusted you since then, Catapygos."

Catapygos smiles. "Our bodies joined as often as it rained. 
There is something to be said for the mixing of seed. As I have seen 
here on Chadq, it serves to bring boys to a common ground, and with 
love there is always trust."

"I know that I can trust you, just as I trusted you to raise my 
son. Just as you now know that Phaenon is my clone, no one must know 
what I am about to reveal." Phaedrus does not wait for an answer. To 
do so would be to offend the other man. "Catapygos, I have a plan to 
renew the gene pool."

"To do so,... a stranger must be brought into union,... with one 
of us," Catapygos says uncertainly.

"That is true. And what is more, it must be within the Other so 
that his seed can be shared among our kind," Phaedrus adds.

"But Phaedrus, the risk! Think of the risk! A damned Relativist! 
None of them can be trusted! Our gene pool can survive without 
renewal."

Phaedrus laughs. "It cannot, old friend. And we cannot survive 
much longer. If you look at some of the young peds, already it is too 
late. Your own mixed offspring are all the proof you need."

"Phaedrus, explain yourself!"

"Look at their worms, Catapygos. Both of them are big, much 
bigger than your clone. Have you not wondered how much bigger they 
will be when their seed is ripe? They will soon be too thick to 
penetrate the hole. It is the same in other settlements. Soon, only 
our peds will be able to travel to the Other. It is something that we 
should have realized long ago. Why do you think they killed our boys 
on Deam? Remember what was done to them on the battlefield. We called 
it shameful mutilation but it had another purpose. Those boys were 
unsexed after death to stop us breeding. To make matters worse, we 
even sterilize our clones!"

"I understand, Phaedrus. But, to bring a Relativist into our 
most sacred rites? To give him access to places like Ti-ora?"

Phaedrus laughs again as he shakes his head dismissively. His 
genius has contemplated the problem from the time he first understood 
the reason behind the massacre at Deam. He wonders whether he would 
be capable of the task he is asking of Phaenon. He has done 
everything that he can to prepare the boy for what lies ahead. The 
hard life on Chadq has made him strong and resilient like the grass 
that struggles to grow in the dry dust.

"Did I say a Relativist, old friend? There is another 
possibility, you know Catapygos...."

He waits, hoping that the other man will come to the same 
conclusion that he eventually reached by himself. It is so logical 
that a conclusion otherwise seems impossible. It is an idea whose 
time has come. There is no other answer. Phaedrus yields as the 
poverty of the other man's intellect becomes obvious by his silence.

"There is another source for our genes, beyond breeding with a 
damned Relativist. There is one person,... only one who is unpolluted 
by Relativism,... a man who is well known to us. Catapygos,.... there 
is always Stefan Harper!"

The secret is laid bare. The sudden intake of breath gives 
Phaedrus cause for concern as much as the words whispered back to 
him. He will never more aware of the trust he places in Catapygos 
than at that moment.

"Stefan Harper...." A moment later. "But Phaedrus? That is more 
than four thousand years ago. You would bring him forward 28 cycles 
to breed with some of us? Surely, he would not survive."

"Catapygos,... I do not plan to bring him all the way to our 
time.... I plan on sending Phaenon to him." 

Phaedrus smiles to himself. It is such a simple idea that it is 
a wonder that it has not been thought of before. There is only one 
problem. Phaenon must enter the WORM-HOLE by himself, and without a 
guide he must find his way to the Origin.

"When, Phaedrus?"

"My son is ready to be sired, is he not, Catapygos? From the 
look of him I am surprised that a man has not already been behind him 
and ploughed his little furrow deeply with his spike. He is a very 
tempting ped, if ever there was one."

"Yes, my Liege. But you must not forget that there are only a 
few men on Chadq, and those one or two who would be suitable lovers 
for Phaenon already have peds of their own. Besides, his time has not 
come."

Phaedrus is surprised. "No milk yet? Surely the lad is beginning 
to ripen there."

"Phaedrus, although his eggs have begun to grow, he is still a 
long way from milking. Perhaps in a year, maybe two, his first seed 
will appear."

Phaedrus is curious as he remembers the naked boy who was 
wrestling before him. He is certainly capable of sexual arousal and 
he is old enough to give a man boundless pleasure. Another few months 
is just possible within his plans, but not one or two years. There is 
too much at stake to delay much longer. 

"I can see no reason to delay the mounting ceremony even if he 
is not ready."

Sadly, Phaedrus half closes his eyes. His words condemn the boy 
to live forever within the Other. He remembers his own initiation. 
His first ejaculation of barely visible spots of immature nectar 
occurred at the precise instant that he was absorbed into the Other. 
For Phaenon, his orgasm would always be dry like the waterless planet 
on which he now lives. For Phaenon, there will never be the gushing 
of life-fluid from his loins. He would remain a ped forever. It is a 
price that is too high, even to bring Stefan Harper to the Other.

"Enough, Catapygos," Phaedrus acknowledges defeat.

Silence descends at both men contemplate the grim future of 
their species. Without access to the inverse world through WORM-HOLEs 
their reason for existence vanishes. Like the We-wat-uk-to of G8*Y, 
they will become an unnecessary species and natural law will quickly 
make their kind extinct. For a moment Phaedrus glances down. His 
fingers push between the folds of his robe and he strokes his penis 
meaningfully. With years of practice, his erection is nearly 
instantaneous. It is barely thinner than the width of his two 
fingers. Just fifty millimeters, the Absolute width of the inverse of 
the dimensions of the Universe. 

"Phaedrus," Catapygos begins uncertainly. "Even if Phaenon 
agreed to what you propose, there is still the matter of finding his 
first sire. I love him so much that I could not stand behind him when 
I know that I am losing him forever."

"Catapygos,.... what do you mean by Phaenon agreeing?" Phaedrus 
stumbles on the words.

"He will agree, if I asked him. I know him, Phaedrus. He is your 
clone."

"He would sacrifice his manhood for you?" Phaedrus asks. "You 
would ask him to do that?"

"Phaenon is a remarkable boy. In all ways, he is a true 
Absolutist. He is the one boy I know who is truly worthy of mating 
with Stefan Harper. Besides, what he does not have, he will not miss 
as much."

"We both know that squirting his milk is only a small part of 
his happiness."

"He will be pleasured with or without his milk flowing, but you 
are condemning both he and his lover to never know complete 
fulfillment. They cannot breed."

"That is true, Catapygos. That is true! But I have no choice, 
there is too much at stake. Who would you have sire him?"

"It isn't too late to invite a mercenary to ride him," Catapygos 
suggests slyly.

"But if he is mounted by a mercenary, he will be lucky to walk 
in a normal fashion again. Besides, Phaenon will need all of his 
strength to find his way to the Origin."

Again there is silence. Both men know the answer to the 
question. If one asks for the sacrifice of manhood, the other must 
perform the deed that makes the sacrifice happen. Phaedrus' penis 
quivers as he realizes what they both have accepted as the answer.

"He will be tight, Phaedrus," Catapygos teases. "It will be hard 
to plough his little furrow even with a Absolutist share like yours. 
Are you sure you are up to it? Phaenon is strong enough to squeeze a 
worm like a man."

"No boy's furrow is that tight! I will be his sire. I can see no 
other choice. Like most peds I have mounted, I am certain that 
Phaenon will be pleased enough with my performance."

Catapygos laughs. "Is that because of size or frequency, 
Phaedrus? I walked bow-legged all the time while I was a boy on K-0-
QAZ, and your worm was not that big."

Phaedrus chuckles as he remembers his youth. "You split my 
cheeks often enough, yourself, old friend. Did you not say that our 
clones already know the same pleasure that we shared as boys?"

"They practice mating as often as they sweat. They mount each 
other like there is no tomorrow. The Chad-qua are celibate by 
comparison."

Phaedrus smiles. "The best boys are always like that before they 
take a man. It's good for them. Frequent ploughing builds a strong 
body without hurting the furrow. It is common knowledge that a ped 
can loosen his hole without adding length if he does it with another 
boy. It makes for a perfect WORM-HOLE!"

"Sometimes I wonder how they find the energy," Catapygos jokes. 
"Your Phaenon is a dery-iqua and so is my son. They are the same as 
we were at that age, Phaedrus. Those two boys are not at all unlike 
the horny worms of Chadq. They are born to fuck."

"Then I'm certain that Phaenon will take a man's worm easily 
enough. I expect that he will enjoy the added thickness of manhood. 
There are some things one boy simply cannot do for another," Phaedrus 
adds. 

His veiled allusion to orgasm induced through anal intercourse 
is not missed. He lifts his garment and takes his engorged penis in 
hand. The glans of his organ is swollen and crimson-purple in color.

In another dimension Catapygos places one of his hands against 
the podium, bends forward in anticipation, and parts his firm 
buttocks with the other in a gesture of submission. There is no sound 
as their minds link together and they share feelings of mutual 
desire. Both feel the flow of energy between them as they communicate 
silently in a single purpose. They are united. The bonds that were 
first established between them when they played as immature boys, 
when they experimented with emerging desires and satisfied their 
curiosity about their pre-destined roles, are re-forged. A hungry 
fire rises up and consumes them as they join together.

On Chadq, Catapygos sighs as he feels the other man's penis 
moving inside his bowels while their bodies are otherwise apart. Age 
and experience produce simultaneous orgasms. Phaedrus appears, first 
as a shimmering, ethereal mist, then taking on material form as his 
creamy fluid spurts deeply. They part, separating physical presence, 
withdrawing and terminating the mutual act as they clasp hands.

"It's been a long time, my liege," Catapygos acknowledges. "You 
still feel every bit as nice as when we were peds."

"A little bigger perhaps? My worm has grown since I was last 
behind you."

"You were big enough then, Phaedrus," Catapygos answers. "Even 
when you could not squirt your seed, you pleasured me like no other 
has been able to since."

"I have fond memories of Deam too," Phaedrus answers as he 
breathes heavily. "You haven't forgotten how to squeeze a worm. I 
hope that your son has taught the skill to Phaenon."

"They have both had plenty of practice," Catapygos smiles. "It 
is a skill that comes naturally to boys like Phaenon. It is a game 
for boys on Chadq, they have little else to do beyond develop their 
natural capacities for pleasure."

Phaedrus wipes the white dribble of his semen from the inside of 
the other man's thigh with the corner of his robe. He steps away and 
studies the place that his son calls home. It is a barren place, a 
cavern with rough walls that have been hewn from the mountain 
granite. Everything is green-tinted from the glowing pools of emerald 
light. Minute male glow-worms seethe in copper dishes, coupling 
endlessly, lighting sparkling golden points with every insect orgasm, 
producing the unsurpassed lubricant of Chadq. Phaedrus laughs as he 
trails his fingers through the iridescent luminance, collecting warm 
strands of insect ejaculate. Confronted by the perpetual fucking of 
the Chad-qua, endlessly copulating in order to survive but never 
reproducing, is it any wonder that the boys on Chadq think of sex as 
a means of recreation and not for procreation. The ready availability 
of the slimy mucus in any copper dish makes each and every moment an 
opportunity for intercourse. 

"My abode is not much to look at," Catapygos says 
apologetically. "Chadq is a miserable place with little to recommend 
it for habitation except that there are no Relativists here and our 
sons can grow up safely."

"My Phaenon has been loved here. I could ask for nothing more."

Phaedrus turns and smiles as he observes the two naked boys who 
have witnessed his union with their parent. Unlike Relativist 
children, Absolutist boys are considered equals to men. In this 
private domain there are only few secrets that remain to be shared by 
the time a boy is initiated. 

The two identical boys stand beside the platinum-colored metal 
wall that separates the cavern from the harsh environment outside. 
Without the distortion of the hologram, Phaedrus sees their soft 
features. Hyacinth, like his ancient Greek ancestor, was a comely 
youth whose beauty was well known throughout the Other. His claim to 
fame shows in his twin progeny. However the distinguished beauty of 
the twins pales beside that of Phaedrus' own clone. Phaenon's is a 
perfect beauty, the distilled quintessence of Absolutist genes, 
refined through careful breeding until he has no equal but one, his 
own sire.

Catapygos smiles as he observes the other man's interest in his 
sons. He beckons for them to approach and take their places beside 
him. Soon enough they will stand beside another man, possibly even 
Phaedrus if one of them is lucky to capture his interest. The boys 
are tentative, cautiously walking across the polished green-stone 
floor until they stand, one to each side of their father. His arms 
possessively drape across their bare, brown shoulders, affectionately 
hugging them. Only a matter of days, perhaps only hours, separates 
them in age from Phaenon and their clone-brother for all four boys 
were conceived during the days and nights immediately following the 
horror of Deam, as men and youths began the slow process of healing 
from the loss of loved ones on the battlefield.

Phaedrus smiles. He is excited by the boys and his status is 
sufficient that he does not need to conceal his interest. To mate 
with him, Lord High Councillor of the Foyre, Prime Guardian of the 
Inverse World would be considered an honor for any boy. For him, the 
offspring of the Lord Protector of the Other are acceptable 
candidates. Phaedrus' arousal is evident to all present. 
Nonchalantly, even though his erection is perfectly natural under the 
circumstances and nothing to be ashamed of, he repositions his robe 
to cover his exposed parts. There are other matters demanding his 
attention and of importance far beyond the need to mate. The boys 
return his smile with shy bashfulness. Chadq is a desolate and lonely 
place and they have seen only a few men besides Catapygos and 
Hyacinth during their formative years. The few priests are mutilated 
from self-immolation, virgin custodians of Chad-qua. The others are 
old warriors, curators of the memories, forever bearing the scars of 
battle and living in self-imposed exile from defeat. By contrast, 
Phaedrus is physically unscarred, a man in all respects. Even as they 
stand in front of their father he is very arousing to them. Their 
penises erect and their pouches tighten, hungry to be touched and 
loved by a man instead of another boy.

Catapygos smirks knowingly at his childhood lover, willing him 
to pick one or the other, or both, and forget the insanity he has 
planned. And yet, even the identical growing stiffness of his 
stripling scions convinces him that Phaedrus is right. Their still-
hairless members are already larger than his own when he was several 
years older and producing sperm. Another generation, perhaps two or 
three with luck, and access to a WORM-HOLE will be impossible for his 
descendants. 

"Damn them! They knew what they were doing at Deam!" he curses. 

"Their barbarism should have made us suspicious," Phaedrus 
agrees. "We were too busy fighting to realize their motives did not 
lie in battle victories."

Catapygos nods his acquiescence. "Go to him, Phaedrus. It's a 
pity that Phaenon will not experience the same joy in his bowels that 
I knew with you."

Phaedrus smiles. "You were a good fuck old friend, and a good 
ped too, from what I am told by one of the old men in the Council who 
you know much better than I. With luck, Stefan Harper will keep my 
Phaenon happy between his legs."

They exchange fond memories with a long meaningful look. The 
significance of the moment is not lost on the two young onlookers. 
Their time to leave security of the cavern on Chadq is fast 
approaching. Like their father they will always have memories of long 
wonderful nights in the embrace of their half-brothers.

Phaedrus turns silently, scooping his fingers through the 
lubricious scum in a copper dish. He reaches the metal wall and 
pauses for a moment as Catapygos activates the portal. The metal 
shimmers as molecules are realigned and liquefied. A passage melts 
into the seamless surface. As Phaedrus turns to leave, both twins 
speak as one, high-pitched feminine voices scratchy with erotic 
fervor as they envy the pleasure that awaits Phaenon with a man who 
they also desire, but nonetheless eager for him to enjoy what lies 
ahead for them.

"They're under the rock."

Phaedrus stops, half turns, waits for Catapygos to explain. A 
droplet of runny slime hangs by a silvery thread from his fingers, 
growing ever longer until gravity triumphs over matter. If falls to 
the stone floor, a glistening spot of insect semen crawling with a 
myriad invisible insect sperm.

"It's by the cliff," Catapygos answers the unspoken question. 
"That's where the boys go when they want to be together and not be 
seen."

Phaedrus steps through the portal, into a blast of hot dry air. 
He feels the moisture being sucked out of him with each breath, from 
the pores of skin like a sponge squeezed dry. Parched sand is trodden 
into solid where the feet of boys have run and played, fine dust 
swirls around his feet. He walks with purpose, remembering his own 
first time. It is very different with a man. The joy of full adult 
penetration is very unlike the thin penis of boy. He follows the firm 
path, passing between boulders that have fallen from the cliffs 
above. Scraggly plants eking out a miserable gnarled existence, 
watered only by evaporation and the infrequent urine of four human 
children, are tangled among the granite rocks.

He pauses, already feeling drained. The heavy air is 
overpowering, weighing on the barren world and its sole occupant like 
the drifting sand that gathers in drifts where ever the wind is less. 
He scans the stony cliff. There are several rocks, huge stones whose 
fractured corners are nearly worn smooth by countless years of wind 
and sand. He focuses his mind, eyes partially closed as he seeks a 
sign. A ghit-yti, with wings the breadth of a man's outstretched arms 
and a beak that could tear strips of flesh without effort, rises in 
the thermal, swirling and weaving with each powerful beat. There is 
no doubt where the boys are hidden. The gigantic buzzard, perpetually 
searching for food is not particular whether its meal is carrion or a 
living boy. It circles waiting its chance. Phaedrus breathes deeply, 
his chest rising and falling as he contemplates his approach. He opts 
for directness, confronting the boys during the intimate act that 
consumes their attention.

His approach is silent, his steps muffled by the sifting sand. 
The rock they have chosen provides protection with a dark shadow and 
coolness. Still unrealized, he creeps forward until he is only 
lengths away and out of the brilliant light. As soon as he is able to 
see into the gloom he smiles. So much for his earlier hypothesis that 
Phaenon would be a difficult ped when his time came to be mounted. 
The youngster presents himself like an accomplished lover he muses. 
Legs lifted up, knees nearly to his chest, feet splayed to either 
side of his waist, buttocks wide apart. The other boy squats behind 
him, not yet completely emasculated, his penis flexing hungrily as he 
spits precious fluid onto his hand. They couple quickly. The other 
boy mounts Phaenon with savage jerks, not wasting more than a second 
or two to get his thin sex inside his partner. He pushes all the way 
inside with several thrusts in order that the moisture on his rampart 
penis does not evaporate.

Phaedrus nods appreciatively as his son's reaction. Powerful 
muscles grip the penis and squeeze relentlessly. They do not move. 
Copulation is unseen, other than the change in their facial 
expressions as their united sensitivities bring increasing pleasure. 
They conserve their energies in the fatiguing dryness, Phaenon 
manipulating the inner muscles of his rectum for each massaging 
contraction that tries to pull the other boy's member even deeper. 
But further penetration is impossible and they begin to rock, in slow 
motion as a rigid penis flexes in a supple living sheath. Gradually 
the motion becomes more agitated as their wiry young bodies approach 
orgasm. Sinews and muscles stand out on thin limbs like knotted ropes 
under glabrous skin. 

Phaedrus remembers. In some ways a boy feels better than a man. 
His slim, slick penis pumps wildly when there is almost no 
resistance, his haunches straining to go even further, stringy thighs 
intent of propelling his member faster, deeper, harder, neither 
causing discomfort or generating the intense pleasure of a man-sized 
organ. 

In his innocence, Phaenon is still unaware of the profound joy 
that awaits him. For now he is fully satisfied by the small piston 
jerking rhythmically in his bowels. He wantonly parts his small firm 
cheeks, lifting his buttocks higher as his climax mounts. His father 
is amused by his son's sexual pleasure. He imagines Phaenon as a 
sexless Relativist, his head tonsured and bowed low, the center of 
his loins an ugly thick penis, circumcised at birth in the 
traditional ceremony of purification. That is the consequence of 
Deam, the final outcome for his species if his plan fails.

Phaedrus steps forward, reaches out and touches the clone's bare 
shoulder. The lad is startled and he pulls out suddenly, Phaenon's 
loosened anus sucking loudly on his penis as it drags away. They 
glare at the man who dares to interrupt. 

"It is his time," Phaedrus says softly. "Your time will come 
soon, son of Catapygos. A man's worm will find you soon enough."

The clone looks sullen, unable to express what he feels. His 
jealously is concealed. He must be happy for Phaenon. For a few 
seconds his penis glistens with the juice of the other boy, but even 
as his anus contracts Phaenon's fluid fades to a dry powdery film. 
The clone stands on weakened legs, his thin erection like a finger 
pointed downward to the boy on the ground. He leaves, looking back 
only once to wave good-bye to his friend.

Phaedrus regards the silent boy before him. There are few words 
necessary or allowed. The ritual of initiation demands it. His hand 
unfastens his tassel and he sheds his robe. Phaenon watches, eyes 
wide open as he absorbs the man's thickness and length compared to 
the size of his own maleness. It is much bigger than a boy's penis. 
It is very different, and to the youngster, on the threshold of 
initiation, very arousing. The man's penis is not smooth like his 
own. The purple veins are prominent as they engorge with blood 
constricted by the dark metallic band that encircles the broad base. 
Phaenon has waited all his life for this moment and now, as the gaunt 
man conveys the silvery cords of insect-lubricant to his penis, he is 
in awe. In a matter of minutes he will discover both pain and 
complete and utter happiness.

Before taking his place on the sandy mound, Phaedrus removes a 
narrow metallic band from his third finger. It is crafted by the 
finest artisan, an amalgam blue-green filigree wrought in the caves 
of Tonkiu and blessed by the High Priest of the Council. He kneels 
before Phaenon's feet, lifting them higher so that his knees touch 
his shoulders. The man's rigid penis quivers expectantly, oozing pre-
seminal slime through the exposed slit of his penis. His hand moves 
up and down, smearing the glistening jelly over the full length of 
his organ, retracting the foreskin and barring his crimson glans. It 
is swollen like a ripe plum and slick with nectar, like a crown 
anointed.

With caution, Phaedrus leans to his self-appointed task of 
coition. Phaenon nods slightly and speaks nervously. These are the 
only words he will speak until he is commanded to speak again. "My 
master, Lord High Councillor of the Foyre, Prime Guardian of the 
Inverse World, I am Phaenon. I yield."

"I am Phaedrus. This ring is your birthright, Phaenon. As I take 
you now, it will become part of you." Phaedrus slips the ring onto 
the small penis, fascinated by its size relative to his own. Despite 
the differences, Phaenon's parentage is unmistakable. He is pure 
bred, exactly like his father. His worm is the classic penis with its 
thin shaft, elongated foreskin, and rounded glans. Phaedrus pushes 
the ring down the narrow stalk, passing over skin that is smooth as 
silk. He positions it at the junction of penis and scrotum. The 
testicles are small and immature. Without seed present, Phaedrus 
knows that he is condemning the boy to perpetual childhood but there 
is no alternative. His sacrifice of manhood will bring Stefan 
Harper's seed for other boys. 

There is no need for foreplay. The boy is already heated and 
eager for the man to be within him. That is the benefit of prior 
entry by another, a boy who prepares the way by loosening the orifice 
and stretching the tube. Phaenon feels the bloated knob press between 
his cheeks, hot pressure squeezing into the indentation of his anus. 
He breathes quickly, closing his eyes to block the pain as the man 
looms over him. He feels it poking, searching, probing, pushing. It 
hurts as it penetrates his anus. The pain builds as the fullness 
grows inside him. There seems to be no end to it. So unlike a boy who 
enters his still-tight hole without difficulty, the man's brute 
strength forces him open like a wedge hammered into his fleshy 
opening.

A muffled sniff, a strangled cry, tears at the corners of his 
eyes, teeth gritted until his clenched jaws ache. The head is past 
his sphincter, surging deeper into his pelvis, displacing vital 
organs in an onward rush. Phaenon grips his ankles tightly, resisting 
the impulse to scream as his pain increases. He curses silently, 
using the most obscene word he knows, condemning the other species 
and their mock-religion.

Phaedrus ceases and holds his place in the shuddering youngster, 
now squirming like a wounded animal on his impaled spear. His tool is 
fully embedded, contained within the young body. The boy is both 
remarkably strong and fearless, he muses. Powerful squeezes of the 
violated rectum increase his urge to fuck, but he shows restraint. 
There is time enough to show Phaenon what it means to love a man. 

Phaenon feels soft fuzz rubbing against his buttocks. 
Instinctively he realizes why his insides are compressed. There is a 
sensation that he will explode at any second and it raises his 
anxiety but does not quell his enthusiasm. He wants more. No mere boy 
could feel as good as this. This is a man's penis, thick, long, and 
hard. His rectum is stretched out in length and diameter, creating an 
unfamiliar pressure on his bladder and prostrate. There is an ache in 
his testicles that has never been there before. He twitches, 
trembling as the nerves in his bowels send frantic messages to his 
brain. Phaenon has never felt like this. There is a feeling of 
imminent explosion. The penis moves slowly, cautiously testing his 
tightness, and he is jolted by the sensations that begin immediately. 
It pulls back carefully, pauses as if to give him time to breath, and 
then rushes forward again. He groans in agony. This time it hurts 
more than he can stand. But within the pain there is a surprising 
joy. He gasps with the sudden realization that he likes it. Again and 
again the man's

penis slides into him until there is suddenly more pleasure than 
pain, or is it that the pleasure is so intense that he feels pain. He 
shakes his head to clear the confusion. He feels more alive than he 
is ever before. His mouth opens wide, gasping as his body responds 
instinctively, his boyhood reaching the apogee of erection as his 
anus dilates to accommodate the penis now totally inside him. He 
breaths hot dry air burning deep into his lungs. So used to other 
boys, Phaenon is unprepared for the surging maleness that pummels his 
prostrate and threatens to tear him apart.

Absently his fingers explore his groin. Phaedrus concentrates on 
his penis, exciting the finger-like shaft by gripping the metallic 
band. It abrades his sensitive part as it slides through, jerking in 
syncopated rhythm with the penis stabbing in his bowels. His genitals 
feel foreign to him, his penis swells wider as if fills with blood, 
constricted at the base by unyielding compression, aching for relief. 
By contrast, his usually fat scrotum has flattened, becoming taut and 
wrinkled, protective of his boy-sized eggs.

Both of them are unprepared for his orgasm. It comes suddenly, 
with a rush that makes Phaenon buck madly. Although his writhing 
naked body is hot to touch, it is nothing compared to the searing 
pain in his abdomen. It ignites a fire that bursts into a 
conflagration. There is no ejaculation as the boy shrieks in ecstasy. 
Somewhere deep within him a pulse is initiated. Quintessence, unseen 
and without matter but the immutable essence of life itself explodes 
from his loins. His penis, rock hard and vibrating, bursts a single 
clear droplet of pre-pubescent juice. It swells, purple veins bulging 
as the blood flow is restricted. Phaenon's hips thrust urgently, 
taking his father's penis full depth, in desperate need of 
ejaculation. He shrieks again as he peaks, pure pleasure striking 
deep in his clutching rectum. His organ jerks again and again as his 
limbs thrash wildly. Suddenly his father's penis pushes in further 
than it has ever been. His plateau of consciousness vanishes. Reason 
evaporates and he drifts mindlessly as he fulfils his primal need to 
copulate. Ahead looms a vast black opening, of the Universe, of 
nothing and everything. There is a burning pain and the boy is 
startled. He feels the thrusting penis expand and fill him until his 
lower abdomen is so full of his father's thick manhood that he cannot 
breath. 

Phaedrus thrusts violently as his conclusion and Phaenon's 
beginning approaches. He feels his scrotum tighten, drawing up his 
ripe testicles, squeezing sperm-filled eggs. He readies himself and 
silently pleads for his offspring to forgive him. Without seed, there 
is no coming back. He commits his cloned son Phaenon to eternal 
youth. With his hands on Phaenon's hips, he plunges back and forth, 
faster, harder, deeper than he would ever dare go with another virgin 
boy. Phaenon quakes, his rectum squeezing with terror for the moment 
is upon them. His hand grasps his child-sized penis and feels it 
merging with the metallic band as his immature juice begins to squirt 
through his thin shaft. Even before it reaches the tiny slit at the 
azure-blue tip, he feels his body being sucked into the WORM-HOLE, 
dragged though an orifice that is no bigger than the width of his 
finger. A scream echoes against the cavern walls as Phaenon vanishes 
at the very moment that semen erupts from his father's penis. It 
splatters on the boy's impression in the sand, drying almost 
immediately to clay tablets. 

 
********************************************************

Planet Earth, Period One Minus 44 Earth Days, Scalen Cycle



Professor Stefan Harper, Ph.D. glared at the computer screen. 
After thirty hours of computations he was ready to throw a brick 
against the monitor.

"So god damn close!" he said angrily. "Fucking shit of a 
machine!" he added for good measure.

Dejected, he turned away at the very moment the doorway was 
framed with a dark silhouette of a man. The Bhele Distinguished 
Professor of Mathematics, Emeritus, Matthew Denton entered the untidy 
office until he was stopped by the piled collections of papers and 
books stacked on the floor. 

"Hi Stef," Matt said. "I thought you had gone home by now. I'm 
glad I swung by to make sure. Are you ready to go?"

"Ready? Matt, I'm wasting my time here. I've wasted the last 
five weeks."

Matt nodded encouragement. "Sometimes you have to go sideways 
before you go forward when you care about solving the difficult 
problems."

His comment provoked a laugh from Stefan. "Only I'm no 
Mandelbrot."

"You're better!"

"You're biased, Matt." Stefan stood up. 

At thirty, he was two inches taller then the sixty-seven-year-
old man next to him. Fortunately for Matt, Stefan had developed 
slower than most boys. He was fourteen, actually fourteen and a half, 
before he experienced his first wet orgasm. His growth spurt came 
even later, but as the years passed, he caught up. The surprising 
thing was that their loved endured as his slender boy's body matured. 
At nineteen, he celebrated the successful completion of his oral 
exams for his doctorate and returned home with his lover of seven 
years to make love into the earlier hours of the morning. 

"What's the problem? You aren't still sweating on the paper for 
the June conference, are you?" Matt asked.

Stefan pushed his chair back to make room in front of the 
computer. "No, it's a set of equations I've put together. I'm trying 
to resolve the system by taking limits. If you let this side go to 
infinity, then the other side approaches zero. It's pretty darned 
crazy, actually. You'd expect it to balance out, and the computer 
says it does. Even at triple precision, I get so damned close, but it 
doesn't balance. If you expand the series and substitute, well, you 
can see it shouldn't be even that close."

"What are you trying to do? You're working on the extension of 
your dissertation again?" Matt asked.

"No, I gave up on that. I think there's an easier way. And there 
is, I know I'm on the right track. You know what this means?"

Matt laughed. "It means either I need to get you a nice padded 
room or that Einstein was wrong."

"I'd settle for the padded room right now, just so long as there 
is something to eat and some good Chardonnay," Stefan grumped. 

"You could use up some time on the Cray," Matt laughed. "God 
only knows that machine is capable of doing any computations I can 
throw at it. Besides, Our departments share is going to waste."

"Not a bad idea," Stefan mused. "You know, if I'm right,.... The 
Cray might just prove it,...."

"Come on," Matt said fondly. "You need a break, Stefan."

Stefan faltered. Home, dinner, a glass or two of wine sounded 
wonderful. It had been a very long day. "I'm getting close, I know I 
am," he said hesitantly.

"You're tired. You look exhausted." Matt's head tilted, 
reminiscing. "You're never going to change. I remember when you first 
came to live with me."

"How could I ever forget?" Stefan joked as he ruefully rubbed 
his buttocks. "I could barely sit down for the first few weeks."

"I don't know what you're complaining about," Matt laughed. "I 
think you spent most of the time on your back. The only time you sat 
down was to go to the toilet and if I remember correctly, you were 
constipated a lot of the time."

"I was a horny little kid, wasn't I?" Stefan replied. "The fact 
that I was in love probably helped."

"I was sad when we stopped."

"I grew up, Matt. If I could have stayed a boy forever, I would 
have for you."

"I couldn't help it, Stefan. It's just the way it is for a boy 
lover. It can only last a few years. We were lucky it lasted as long 
as it did," Matt said sadly. "We had a lot of good years though, 
didn't we?"

"They were the best years of my life," Stefan replied warmly. 
"It's weird how things turn out, isn't it? I mean here we are, both 
with the same problem. We both love boys." 

Matt nodded. "And we're both alone now. I was very lucky to have 
you, Stefan. There are many times when a man gets a boy like you for 
a lover."

Stefan sighed. Being attracted to boys guaranteed loneliness. 
That was the one part of his life he would change it he had the 
opportunity. Certainly, he accompanied Matt to Mexico and bided his 
time for a chance encounter. As his own youthful charm faded and his 
desire developed he discovered the sadness. During his travels with 
Matt he learned that boys were available everywhere, but the risk was 
far too great in his own country. 

"I think I'm losing my mind, Matt," he said quietly.

Matt grinned. "You haven't fallen in love with a boy you saw at 
the supermarket again, have you?"

Stefan shook his head. "The dream I told you about,... it never 
leaves my head. I keep thinking about it. And today,... Matt it felt 
like he was standing right beside me. I could sense his warmth. It 
was almost as if I could reach out and touch him." 

"I think it's time you went for a holiday," Matt chuckled. "You 
need a boy in your bed for a few weeks."

Stefan nodded agreeably. "I like that idea. I wonder if he'll 
have blue hair?"

"What?"

"The boy! Matt, last night I dreamed he had blue hair."

"That's interesting. I could have expected that from you," Matt 
teased. "You didn't have to see the rest of him by any chance?"

Stefan grinned. "Not the interesting parts. Matt, he feels so 
hot and alive. When I dream about him it seems like he's rubbing 
against me. At least that's the way I remember it."

"Maybe one of the neighborhood kids has been sneaking into your 
room at night. There isn't cum on you next morning is there?" Matt 
joked. "Perhaps you can send him down to my bedroom next time."

"No, there's no cum," Stefan replied. "Actually, I don't think 
he's mature yet."

Matt raised his eyebrows. "And just how do you know that?"

"I,... I don't know! That's what's so weird. I know things about 
him. I know he comes up to here on me," Stefan said as he lifted his 
hand to his breast. "I know his name is Phaenon."

"Good lord! Now you're dreaming about an Ancient Greek legend," 
Matt taunted. "I better buy you a seat on the next plane to Mexico. 
Maybe you are losing your mind."

"Huh?" Stefan queried.

"Phaenon! He was a boy in a legend from Ancient Greece, I 
believe."

"I know that Matt. I was at the library this morning. The name 
had me stumped for quite a while until I discovered that Phaenon was 
the same as Phaethon. He was a lesser known equivalent of Icarus, in 
a way. He was the son of Helios who wanted to drive the sun-chariot 
across the sky. Once the horses discovered that a mere boy was at the 
reins, they went out of control. In order to save the earth from 
being scorched, Zeus threw a thunderbolt at him and killed him."

"There's a lesson in there somewhere," Matt laughed.

Stefan looked down at the computer. The program had aborted as 
it wrote out an endless string of values alternating between very 
small and very large, so small and so large that they were for all 
purposes, zero and infinity for the computer. Perhaps that was the 
way it was supposed to be. Almost, but not exact. The margin for 
error, the variance required to balance the universe, the single seed 
of both chaos and unity. Perhaps the numbers were related in some 
fashion, a fundamental pattern that related one series to the other.

"The One and the Other," Stefan mused aloud.

"What are you talking about?"

"This," Stefan answered as he gestured at the monitor. "I think 
I've found the answer, Matt. There are two series. At first I thought 
they were unrelated."

I don't see a pattern, except for the magnitude difference is 
nearly infinite."

"But look at them more closely," Stefan demanded. "There is a 
pattern, god damn it. And all this time, I was under the impression 
that there was a varying relationship. It's absolute!"

Matt stared at the screen. The numbers were very long, 
collections of digits and widely different decimal places. There was 
no pattern, he decided. "It's been a long day, Stefan," he suggested 
hopefully. "Let's go get some dinner and maybe we can go to the mall 
and check the boys out afterwards. Maybe that little cutie is back 
again. I swear he was giving you the look."

Stefan shook his head urgently. His decision was made. He would 
work all night if necessary. The problem justified an extreme effort. 
He slumped tiredly down before the computer again, barely cognizant 
of the departure of his mentor and friend. There was no reason to 
modify the computer program and run the executable again, he 
realized. He had the results he needed. It was a simple matter to 
collect the prior results from the window and copy them to a file. 
The program to study the two series was easily written. Just twenty 
five lines of code, triple precision accuracy. He compiled it without 
error on the first attempt and set it to execute. He leaned back and 
groaned loudly. His mind ached. He needed to rest his eyes for just a 
few minutes.

Stefan awoke with a start. A shimmering form, a young boy, was 
standing next to him. Lean, lithe form, exuding heat and energy, as 
much alive as he was. The boy was brown-skinned, not nearly as dark 
as Mexican boys, not yellow like Asian boys, but burnished copper-
brown. The boy's fingers beckoned, long and thin, with nails that 
were almost white. His hair was ragged, distinctly blue-tinted amid 
fine red-gold strands. 

"Phaenon," Stefan mouthed urgently. "Phaenon,... It's absolute, 
isn't it. That's what you've been trying to tell me. The answer 
wasn't what I thought it was. Relativity really isn't the answer." 

Unspoken words appeared in his mind as clearly as if the boy had 
opened his mouth. 'The One and the Other', 

His senses informed his brain and contradicted his reason. What 
he could not touch, could not exist. Or could it be a different 
reality? Wasn't that the whole point of his theory? The reality of 
his universe, the known Universe, had to have a balance.

"Phaenon," Stefan begged. "That's where you are, isn't it?"

'The Other'. A thought drifted slowly. 'The Other'. 'Not 
opposite'. 'Inverse'.

He reasoned slowly, stretching the arcane constructs of pure 
mathematics with imagination. It was not a parallel world as some had 
suggested, but an inverse world. Did such a world exist at the sub-
atomic level? The numbers said it could exist, but this apparition 
did not support it. 

'The Other', a silent unbroken voice pleaded. 'Come to me 
Stefan. Come to the Other.'

Stefan searched the glimmering haze, no longer a shadow that 
could not be seen, something much closer but still not real. He 
blinked in disbelief. Finely sculptured features of indeterminate 
race. It was the first time that Stefan saw his face. His ethereal 
beauty was startling, incomparable. He was sexless, yet male. When 
Stefan's eyes reopened, the vision was gone.

"God damn!" he cursed loudly as he returned his gaze to the 
computer monitor. "God Almighty!"

He rubbed his eyes, closed them tightly, slowly reopened them. 
The numbers were not what he expected. "One-point-six-one-eight-zero-
three-three-nine-eight-nine. God, it goes on forever. And then the 
same less one, exactly. This is the weirdest thing I've ever seen. Of 
course! How could it be anything else. One is absolute! It has to be 
One!" he exclaimed. 

As he stood up again the chair skidded across the floor and fell 
loudly against the concrete block wall. There was no doubt. He was 
looking at the answer to the greatest problem of the Universe. In a 
way it was the reason for life itself. Not equal, not opposite, but 
balanced. The inverse was the same as subtracting one, or adding one. 
Either way it was the same thing. It was an ancient proportion in the 
fullest meaning of the word, the essence of natural life. It was also 
the key to the Universe in a way that had been never realized before. 
His mind darted from the intangible to the tangible as he picked up 
his notepad and began to draw on the white spaces left among his 
scrawled notes. A material manifestation could be fashioned, in a 
way, by even a clumsy artisan. 

It was twenty minutes and ten attempts later before he flung the 
pad away in angry frustration. It was simply impossible. 

His laugh shattered the silence in the room. It was no different 
to a pendulum swinging in four directions at the same time. Two forms 
had to exist in the exact same place and time. It defied the 
principles of physics and stood counter to all logic. It was an 
abstract hypothesis, a purely speculative concept. However, the 
curious thing was it had to be relatively small, or rather, if it 
could be made at all, it would be no bigger than a napkin ring.

Stefan groaned loudly at his discovery. "Fucking ridiculous," he 
snarled loudly. He made a circle between his thumb and forefinger, a 
circle with the diameter approximately that of a napkin ring. "Damn, 
you look though it and that's all! I could have known. It's all 
there!" He glared at his notes, page after page of scrawled formulae 
and scribbles of notes to himself. Among the pages, and there hundred 
of them, were the makings of a paper as yet untitled. 

His senses warned him that someone was in the room with him. 
Without warning he spun around furious that his anger was being 
observed. The image shivered, a shimmering light that danced, then 
fractured, then faded to nothing.

"Come back," he cried as he reached into the vague image 
distorting the transparency of the air. "Phaenon, come back! You have 
to help me!"

'Come to me, Stefan.' The voice filled his head, pleading 
insistently without begging. He heard the longing, as he felt the 
longing in his loins, the need to be with another, to love and 
satisfy his need.

For the first time he glimpsed the boy's mouth, full lips 
promising passionate kisses should he be able to reach across the 
chasm that separated them. He transcended his earthly realm, his 
imagination spanning the Universe, and the boy touched him. A 
feathery caress on his forearm. Stefan crumpled to the floor, no 
longer caring about anything, except the boy. If his strange fantasy 
was a dream, it was very different to his other dreams of the boy. 
For once, since the long journey had started, he knew Phaenon was 
safe.

When he awoke, cramped and cold, the room was in darkness except 
for the muted blue light from his monitor. He stirred, shifted 
uncomfortably, tried to remember what had happened. His mind was 
blank, except for one thing. The form was not only clear to him, but 
he intuitively grasped how it could be made. Like the famous drawing, 
"Ascending and Descending", by M. C. Escher, the impossible could be 
made real simply by understanding the absolute relationship of the 
One and the Other.

He forged the ring in the early hours of the morning of the 
following day. It was a labor of love in every sense, material proof 
of abstract mathematics, a disturbing contradiction to the accepted 
laws of mechanics. No high level of technology was required. Simple 
shop tools were enough, that and a passion for excellence and a deep 
love for a young boy he had yet to meet on the other side. He rushed, 
now impatient to complete the problem that had begun weeks earlier. 
His memory of that first glimpse into another reality was already 
uncertain. He could have imagined the brown boy, alone in the sandy 
hollow, body arched, limbs jerking in the throes of intense ecstasy. 
That was the beginning of the journey for both of them. Ever since, 
the boy was seldom out of his mind. A remote corner of his brain 
focused on the stripling, glimpsed fractured images of his travels 
through a landscape of incredible beauty. 

Without warning, he would momentarily view places and observe 
the boy's ongoing adventures. He chilled with fear when Phaenon 
wrestled with the Occt-gen, the 'octopus', each of its thick knotted 
appendages capable of such powerful erection that it could tear the 
lad apart. Later as he watched Phaenon sleeping, he was horrified and 
unable to intercede as the young body was invaded by the Ingou, a 
creeping jelly. Stefan looked on helplessly as it enveloped his nude 
body and sought an opening. Finally, at his already violated anus it 
began to quiver, ejecting copious slime as it tried to enter. His 
sleep was undisturbed as it breached him and slithered into his 
bowel, through his intestine and stomach, and up his oesophagus. It 
possessed him, spilling from his mouth. Stefan felt the boy's violent 
diarrhea, shared his agony as he vomited, then shuddering 
spasmodically, tormented by his own orgasm as the penis-slug released 
a torrent of milky seed. The Qaz-zee was far less frightening as 
Phaenon was ravished by maggot-insects. It was the stuff of fantasy. 
Now, his fantasy was becoming reality. Soon he would join with 
Phaenon and the ring was the means.

The core of the ring was copper, a rare isotope referred to as 
24, obtained from the secured storerooms of the chemistry 
laboratories. The green-blue powder was heated in a crucible until it 
became plasma and, like viscous gold could be poured into a plaster 
mold. The rough casting was turned on the lathe in the basement of 
the house where Stefan had spent the last twenty years of his life. 
He shaped it precisely, constantly checking dimensions against his 
calculations. It was accurate to a thousandth of an inch and free of 
imperfections. Satisfied, Stefan turned to the next stage. The shell 
was of Cadmium, and between the two was a thin layer of deadly 
cobalt. He hammered carefully, shielding his eyes as blinding flashes 
fused the metals, no longer base and pure in content but infinitely 
unified. Unknown to Stefan, he was creating the essence of the 
Universe, three isotopes combining with his intense mental anguish to 
form a material that had never existed before. It was a labor of 
love. He had no explanation, he followed an inner knowledge borne of 
brilliance and tempered by his growing desire. He knew only that the 
metals required physical, mental and spiritual energy to join. He was 
the alchemist, creating anew, expending his energies until he was a 
hollow entity.

Finally finished, he stared long and hard at the object he held 
in his right hand. He could not believe that the task was done. There 
was nothing to be added. It was ordinary, a dull blue sheen, much 
smaller and thinner than the quantity raw materials implied. He shook 
his head in dismay as he held it up to his eye. What he expected to 
find, he did not. And yet it was there. He saw nothing, nothing but 
an opening that stretched away into darkness. Stefan harper looked 
into the first WORM HOLE.


Stefan sighed unhappily and looked up to face his mentor. "I 
really thought I was creating a viewing hole to the Other, Matt. If 
you take the limits to the equations, well.... I predicted this. It 
can be smaller of course, but it can't be any bigger. I should have 
known better. I've been wasting my God damned time."

Matt nodded. "Under the limits of the equations the opportunity 
for human travel is zero. It would be hard to squeeze through a hole 
that size," he said with amusement. "I'm sorry, Stefan," he added 
seriously. "I know how hard you've tried. I'm really sorry for you."

"The damned thing's width is about the same as my cock," Stefan 
observed cynically. "Thank god!" He laughed madly. "Maybe we can use 
if for the procreation of the species."

"It would make a very fancy cock-ring," Matt joked. "For your 
sake I hope it isn't radioactive. You'll look like you did when you 
were a teenager and you used to shave it for me."

Stefan grinned. It was a ritual they performed every morning in 
the shower. Matt would shave. He would shave. One smooth face, one 
smooth groin. Because he was in college he did not have to worry 
about gym classes and what other boys would see. From the outset he 
knew why he liked the denuded appearance of his crotch. Simply, 
although he felt a profound love for his older lover, the fact was 
that he was also attracted to boys. He was sixteen years old and in 
his first year of his doctorate.

"It's big enough, that's for certain," Stefan mused aloud. 

The urge grew stronger even as he considered the possibility. 
The darkness lured him. It emanated heat, a sensation that there was 
life within the black void. It seemed to pulsate, almost like the 
heart of a living body was sending blood coursing through vessels to 
nourish flesh. Cautiously he inserted a single finger into the 
opening. 

"It's hot! God it's hot," he gasped. "Matt, it's wet inside. I 
think it's pulling on me, like it's trying to clamp my finger and 
keep it there."

He dragged his finger away, breathing heavily, frightened, 
excited, awed.

He stared at the ring. So plain, he thought, yet so perfectly 
beautiful. Holding it in his left hand, he fumbled with his zipper. 
There was no logic underlying his actions. He was driven by 
curiosity, his reason fogged by unrequited desire, by the very 
absurdity of Matt's suggestion that it make a 'very fancy cock-ring.' 
Intuitively he understood it's purpose. He tugged at his briefs, 
clearing the way past the warm cloth to gain access. His penis was 
hot and hard as he brought it to the light.

Matt smiled, still fascinated by the slender sex as much as he 
had been when it was still small and on the verge of puberty. 
Suddenly, he realized that he was more scared than he had ever been 
in his life. Perhaps it was the wild gaze in Stefan's eyes, the 
feeling of deja-vu that he would never see his lover again, that 
Stefan was going to take his advice. For some reason he could not 
explain, using the metal band as cock-ring seemed extremely dangerous.

"Stefan,... please don't," he implored.

"I have to, Matt. I have to go to him, don't you see? Phaenon 
needs me,... and I need him."

"Stefan,.... please," he begged frantically. "I,... I don't know 
what I'd do without you! I,...."

"Matt, we both know I can never be happy here. Maybe I'll be as 
lucky as you were with me. I doubt it. Besides, it's worse for boy 
lovers now. You've seen what's happening on the internet. Everyone is 
against us!"

"Stefan, please?" Matt moaned. "Stefan I love you."

Tears welled in his eyes and clouded his vision. He saw enough 
to remember for the rest of his life, enough to convince him that he 
needed to guard Stefan's discovery very carefully from the Christian 
moralists who would usurp the power and destroy the balance of the 
Universe. He watched as Stefan's hand brought the ring to his glans, 
slipping easily over the flared ridge, settling onto the shaft, 
sliding down until it nestled close to his scrotum. 

"Feels so good," Stefan groaned. "Matt,... You won't believe 
what it feels like."

"Stefan, please take it off. Please do it."

Stefan's thighs surged forward, then jerked back. His motion was 
erratic, the desperate rhythm of passionate fucking. A glimmering 
sheen, an oily wetness, appeared from under the band. It lubricated 
his aching flesh and he began to shudder as his senses were 
overpowered.

"Matt, it's weird. It feels so,... so human. It feels exactly 
like the first boy I was with when we went to Mexico. It feels 
exactly like him, so hot and lush, like wet velvet. Oh God, Matt!"

"Stefan, what's wrong?"

"Matt, it's squeezing, oh God! Oh! Ohhhhhhh! God, I'm coming 
already!"

Phaenon groaned as Stefan's penis began to ejaculate white-hot 
seed. He felt the man's member surging as it pumped out and he pushed 
back as hard as he could. Something hard and unyielding passed 
through his tight anus. The man was inside him and yet, he was not 
with him. Stefan gasped in shock and squeezed with all his energy to 
displace his prostrate before the pistoning maleness within his 
rectum. He gasped again, breathless and shaking uncontrollably as his 
own orgasm burst free. He quaked, grunting as he jerked back and 
forth on the rigid shaft. Again the man climaxed, spurting deeply 
inside him. Phaenon screamed as they sank to the ground.



They lay still, joined as one and sharing mutual spasms in the 
bliss of their hot wet union. Two thousand years in the future, 
Phaedrus cried.



END PART 1.

Part 2, if it is every completed, will continue the adventures 
of Stefan Harper and Phaenon in the Inverse World as they travelled 
from the Origin to the seventh tree of Essus on the Plain of 
Watergrass. There, in an orgy of men and boys, the Absolutist power 
is recreated. Their lust satisfied, the gene pool of their species 
renewed, the warriors returned to Deam to exact their own revenge 
against the Relativists.