bsb and 'n sync

Legal Disclaimer: This story is fictional and not meant to imply anything abou the true sexual nature of any member of the Backstreet Boys or NSYNC. If you are under the age of 18, offended by homosexual material, or it is illegal to view in your area, you must leave now.

Notice of copyright: Copyright 1999 Mark Johnson. All rights reserved. This story may not be altered or reproduced in any way, without express written permission from the author, except for personal, non-commercial use. Permission to reproduce and electronically publish is granted to Nifty Erotic Stories Archive and its worldwide mirror sites. Permission may be requested from the author by emailing

NSYNC, Backstreet Boys and B-Rok, Britney Spears, and LFO are registered trademarks and property of their respective owners; and Nifty is a trademark and property of the Nifty Erotic Stories Archive.

Author's Preface: Thanks for sticking with my story, I know that there are a lot of stories being posted on the Nifty Archive. Please email all comments to

Continuation of storyline: This is the next chapter of the bsb-and-nsync storyline. If you haven't already, please read the previous stories.



"The heart has its reasons
which reason knows nothing of."
— Blaise Pascal

Nick's eyes were red. Formaly a beautiful shade of white, now a tenebrous shade of maroon. What once were crystal clear orbs were now veiled with sadness. To say he had been crying would be an understatement. Streams of water flowed down his face. His attitude mutated from happy and cheerful to gloomy. Depression consumed him.

He laid silently in bed, paralyzed. His heart palpatated painfully; the emptiness of his soul echoed through his entire being. His mind shut itself off from the now painful present and found sanctuary in a much happier place—the past. This time knew not the dull, lathargic lifeless world that Nick's life was now consumed with. Six years had changed so much in Nick's life. He was no longer a feeble child; he was a well toned man, towering at 6'1". He was no longer a lonely pre-teen struggling for acceptance. He was no longer ignorant, oblivious to the world around him. He was no longer a happy young man with the entire world ahead of him. He was captivated by reality and was drowning from it.

It had been the best day of his life. Still, if it had never happened his life would be so much better now. A day that changed his entire perception of reality. The day he met Brian.


He was in bed, a room similar to the very hotel room he in now. Except this room vibrated with happiness. All of Nick's body was relaxed. His muscles at ease. His body was kept warm with a strong arm. An arm that held Nick securly in the bed. An arm that provided warmth, strength and comfort. Nick laughed, a childish giggle that filled the room with joy. The arm surronding him now brought laughter out of Nick. Tickling not only his stomach, but all the way to his soul.

"Uncle!" Nick laughed out, tears falling from his eyes.

"What Nickie?" Brian questioned, a silly grin dawning his face.

"UNCLE!" Nick screamed.

Brian slowly stopped his assualt on Nick's body. Nick laid back on the bed, exhausted. He breathed heavily and panted loudly.

"Are you always this enigmatic?" Nick finally asked after recovering his breath.

"Enigmatic? What?" Brian asked curiously, returning his attention to the youth next to him.

"Are you always enigmatic?" Nick repeated his question. "Isn't that the word?" Nick's voice wavered with confusion.

"Uhm...energetic?" Brian offered; trying to discover Nick's meaning.

"Yeh... that's it." Nick sighed, realizing his mistake. His facial expression then revealed his embarrasment, his face turning beat-red.

"It's okay Nickie... I get words like that confused all the time." Brian tried to assuage Nick's humiliation.

Brian tried to change the subject. "Yeh, all the time. Now that I'm out of school and not playing foot ball and stuff I don't get my release. Ya know?"

"I'm not really the best athelete. I'm pretty clumsy." Nick said with a shy yet charming smile.

"That's okay. We all can't be good at everything right?" Brian asked rhetorically. "When you get older you'll probably get better at 'em."

"Hopefully." Nick sighed again.

"Are you a good basketball player?" Nick asked curiosly, his voice ringing with a child's joy.

"B-ball? That's my game!" Brian answered, very self-confident with his shooting and dribbling abilities.

"Maybe you could teach me to play sometime?" Nick asked passively, not raising his hopes in fear that his suggestion might be rejected.

"I would be happy too teach you." Brian answered happily, a smile gracing his face. Nick's soul raised with joy. "Nickie, you and me just click. I can see us being really good friends—best friends." Brian added.

"Really?" Nick almost jumped with excitment.

"Sure." Brian laughed at Nick's enthuisasm.

"I need to call my mom. She's pro'lly worried about me. This is my first time being away from her, usually she comes along." Nick told Brian matter-a-factly.

"Go ahead." Brian spoke gently.

"Uhm, could you go outside?" Nick asked timidly. "It's kind of private."

Brian nodded sotfly and got up to leave the room. Once Brian had entered the hall and the door was fully closed, Nick picked up the reciever and dialed his home number.

"Hello?" A women answered after two rings.

"Hi mom, its Nick." Nick responded, speaking akwardly into the phone as if he were unnacustomed with using one.

"Hey honey? How's it going? I miss you already. Where are you boys staying? You're getting along with them all right? Did you meet the fifth one, oh what's his name... Brian? Is Alex taking care if you? He promised he would. Nick, are you fitting in? If your not I'll come and pick you up write now." Jane Carter's birrage of question's left Nick in a daze.

"Mom... I'm fine. It's going great, I'm loving it. I feel like I really fit in with these guys, they are being super nice to me. Especially Brian... he said that we really clicked and that he can see us being best friends." Nick's excitement overcame him. "Isn't that cool? He's really nice, Mom. I've never had a best friend before. Things are really looking up for me, Mom. These guys seem to really like me, and I like them." Nick continued.

His words almost caused his Mom to drop the phone. Tears of joy fell from her eyes. So many days comforting Nick from his troubled social life at school were now over it seemed. He finally discovered people with similar interests. The feeling overwhelmed Jane and she soon joined in with Nick's excited and jovial attitude. "Nick thats great." His Mom finally spoke.

"Mom. I think I better go. Brian's out in the hall, I wanted to talk to you alone. He's probably bored out there. I love you." Nick spoke quickly, trying to end the conversation quickly. He hoped Brian wouldn't be mad waiting in the hall.

"Bye Honey. I love you too. Good luck at Trans Continental tomorrow. You'll be in our thoughts. Call me after you get out of the meeting—or before it you want. Me and your father love you very much and are very proud of you."

"Thanks Mom." Nick said bashfully.

"Bye Honey." Jane Carter said softly.

"Bye Mom." Nick's words ended the conversation. Quickly, he hung up the phone and ran to the door, opening it, and reinviting Brian back inside.

"Have a good talk with your ma?" Brian asked, his country twang ringing with each and every word.

"Yeh." Nick said, a yawn escaping his mouth.

"Maybe we should head to bed then, we've got a big day ahead of us." Brian spoke wisely.

"Yeh I guess." Nick nodded. Brian took off his navy blue sweater, revealing a well-toned chest. He then unzipped and pulled down his tight-fitting blue jeans, showing no modesty. Nick started to become nervous and walked over to his suitcase, trying to avoid staring at Brian's near nude figure.

He pulled out a pair of flannel pajama's and quickly took off his shirt, almost simultaniously replacing it with his pajama top. He proceeded with his pants in a similar method. Brian just looked at Nick with a goofy grin on his face.

"What?" Nick said realizing Brian was staring at him.

"Nothing," Brian said in a near laugh, "We're both guys here... you're just so modest."

"Oh...yeh...I guess." Nick said, climbing into bed.

"Don't you have to brush your teeth?" Brian asked kindly.

"Uhm... nah..." Nick said grinning misheviously.

"Okay, you da boss." Brian said. Then adding, "you're such a rebel," as he turned out the lights; causing Nick to laugh hysterically. Soon, however the laughter stopped and silence filled the room. Brian layed still, his arms to his side, staring at the ceiling. He was thinking little of the day ahead, but concentrated more on sleeping.

Nick however, became restless. He moved all around his bed, constantly rearranging his sheets and switching from lying on his stomach, to his back, to his side and then back to his stomach again. He sighed and readjusted his pillow.

"You okay, Nickie?" Brian asked, beginning to get annoyed with Nick's disruption of the silence. His voice however showed no strain or irritation; but rather a sense of compassion.

"I can't sleep." Nick said bluntly, not giving a reason for his restlessness.

"Do you want me to get you another blanket? another pillow?" Brian asked, beginning to remove the sheet and get out of bed.

"No." Nick said then paused, trying to articulate his words. "Could I uhm, maybe.. uh... sleep in your bed. If thats okay with you. I guess I'm homesick. It's really weird, this is the first night without my family with me or anything."

"You can sleep with me if you want, I know how it is." Brian said kindly, inviting Nick into his bed.

Nick quickly hopped out of his bed and stumbled in the dark over to Brians. "Thanks." He said briefly, pulling himself onto the bed.

Nick adjusted himself in the bed, pushing himself up again Brian's warm body. Brian moved his arm's and covered Nick's small, young body.

Nick cherished that, Brian's warm body against his, his arm sheilding him from the world. Brian's body and soul were like fires, giving off warmth and comfort to Nick's aching body and mind.

Nick's life had changed so much in a week. Today he was safe and accepted, but most of all happy. Only a week ago, he had been taunted, tormented and ridiculed. Abandoned in a world so cold and oblvious.


He was a bird. Such a beautiful bird. So elagant, flying so gracefully; soaring through the sky. The wind carried him, the sun glistened off of his body. His body glowed. A glow emitted from his soul. A glow that could light the world, an energy absorbing into every space and crevice, disrupting an otherwise static world.

Nick was a bird, a wounded one. He had been bombarded with a birrage of rocks. It was almost like a game, a game of dodgeball. But this was no game, it was reality. A state of disarray, chaos and confusion. Frozen and numbing, and at the same time sharp and painful. So many insults thrown at him. Bruising his body, his soul—tearing him apart.

Faggot. Queer. Cock sucker. Routine words in his day. Words he had never uttered, but had heard countless times. Countless times directed at him, and only him. He was isolated, taunted as an individual. There was no one else to help in sharing his grief. No one else who would stand up for him, protect him, shield him from their violent volleys. No one else who could understand—or help him understand. Why did they say this vicious things?

It couldn't get any worse. That was his hope. How could anything be worse than this?

He held his head up high. That's what his Mom had always said. They'll leave you alone if you show them that their word's aren't hurting you. The fact is, unfurtunetly, that they were hurting him. Hurting him, wounding him so much. They were not simply insults, but words fired directly at his soul—like a bullet, tearing his heart. Making him defensive, constantly paranoid, destroying his heart so much, that it seemed if one more blast were to puncture his dying heart it would certainly be destroyed. Making him incapable of love.

He couldn't tell anyone. Not his mom, his teacher's, no one. It was far to embarrasing. His mom knew, his teacher's new, but everyone remained silent. His peer's they were the carriers, the trains that led him to his inevitable destruction. But adults, they could of spoken up, stopped all of this.

He wrote a poem—straight from his soul to express his disheartened emotions.

I am the tracks,
I've felt the trains,
The trains rumbling by,
Carrying cargo.
I am the tracks,
I've felt sadness,
Sadness that kills me, numbing my soul.
I am the tracks,
I've felt death,
Death rumbling by,
My own death
Trains weighted down
With my body, empty of my soul.
I am the tracks,
I've felt the trains,
The trains rumbling by,
On return, they are empty.
Empty of bodies, memories, dreams
All traces of my life, extinguished.
I am the tracks,
I've felt the empty trains rumbling by.
Heavier now though absent of all material.
Silence fills the cars now.
A hollow, corpulent silence.
I am the tracks, the river, the course,
That led to death.
The wheels of these trains
Reverberate over my tracks
But the cries of injustice
Echo through your soul

He turned it in. He recieved an A+ from his english paper. But nothing more. His outcry had gone unheard. Or heard but ignored. Either way his salvation and sanctuary had been decimated. The next day all hope was destroyed. For the next day it got worse.


Nick could still feel the icy cold floor against his face. The dirt and gravel that had accumulated there scratched his right cheek. The dampness of the floor chilled his body. His small unclothed upper-torso displayed many goose-bumps. His body shook.

His arms were constrained; a tight pressure held them down. Tear's graced his young face, and his soft blonde hair was a mess. His body was cold but his soul was frozen. Never had he imagined this would happen. Never had he lost so much faith in human kind to be able to conceive something this atrocious of happening.

Never until today, until he was contained in the moment—experiencing it first hand. His body violated, his spirit broken and his hope lost.

You little faggot, you'll like this. Sound being uttered from a being. It was not a voice. A voice comes from a person. No person committing such an act of violence and hate could be human. This was inhuman, an utterance personified by his ears. I'd stick it up your ass but who knows how many other faggots have been up there. I'll just cum over your back, into your hair. You'll like that, huh, faggot? You'll like it. The voice continued its truculent shrieking.

Nick muttered, begging for mercy, not being able to grasp words. Child-like, innocent, guiltless sounds that were ignored. His sniffles and cries were muted as soon as they left his lips, for their was no one to hear them. Only an evil in the room, collecting itself into one creature. One soulless, heartless creature. The desicration continued.

Nick felt heat. But not warmth. It provided no comfort, joy or uplifting. But felt more like a fire that was consuming him. He could feel the stickiness as it shot against his bear back. The barbarous groans of his assailant chilled Nick's body and sent shiver's down his spine. Tell anyone about this, faggot, and I'll kill you. The vocalization uttered in an iniquitous humor.

A shrap pain shot through Nick's back, instinctively he screamed in pain. He could feel the heel of a shoe dig into the soft tissue on his back, breaking his skin and he could feel the trickle of a small river of blood as it seeped down his back. Then his offeder left, leaving Nick lying on the floor, alone.

As he heard the locker room door open and then close Nick slowly rose, a sharp pain shooting through his back. He rose and walked slowly to the sink. He gently took a paper towel and wettened it under the sink, then lifted it and began to awkwardly was his back. He washed off most of the semen and blood on the towel, and threw it into the garbage, then repeated the process until his back was clean and his blood had clotted and he had discontinued to bleed.

He picked up his now dirty shirt off of the floor, and gently placed the tan t-shirt over his head. He winced as his arm's lifted, disturbing his sore back. He wetted his hair, trying to form it back into his original shape. He dried his eyes, and calmed himself down to the point that he stopped crying.


Nick's mind stopped thinking of the past he laid in bed, and returned to the future. Even 7 years later the pain had not stopped. Even meeting Brian, his savior, the wound had not been healed. Nick's eyes welled up with tears again and his breathing became heavy.

Nick's subconsciencous had morphed Brian's face onto his attacker. Nick blamed Brian for his assualt. He knew it was not Brian's fault, he had not even met him at the time. Still, he had no one else to blame. With no one else to blame, one can only blame themselves and it certainly wasn't Nick's fault.



Author's Postscript:

I hope to have the next chapter posted by December 29th, 1999.