This story is fiction. It depicts, sometimes explicitly, sex between teenage boys, between boys and men, and between boys and females, both teenage and adult. If you find such things offensive, or reading such things is illegal where you live, please read no further.

When a boy is sixteen, the world is a very special place. He has survived, for the most part, the turmoil and confusion of puberty. He has learned a lot about life and about himself; he has the body and voice of a man but the curiosity, the outlook, the horizons of a child. To a sixteen year old, life as it is right now will go on forever. If life is good, if things are going his way, he has no desire for anything to change. If things are not so good, if he has failed in a love relationship, is not doing well in school, can't borrow the family car when he needs it, he is devastated. At times like these life must change, and change right now, or it is worthless. At sixteen most boys, in their own mind, have everything or they have nothing depending upon what is happening in their lives right at the moment.

It was this everything or nothing, wonderful or terrible, live or die attitude that sent Charlie and Dan scurrying across the countryside, away from their homes, their families, their very lives as they'd known them! They had discovered something about themselves that they knew instinctively had always been there and would no longer be denied. They were homosexuals and they were in love; but in Truro Nova Scotia in 1965, to discover such a thing about oneself is to acknowledge that he is severely handicapped, sick, or otherwise "wrong." To Charlie and Dan, such a discovery meant automatically their lives as they'd known them were over. They had disgraced their families, had subjected themselves to ridicule and persecution, had done the unthinkable. They'd heard all the words that are often used without thinking, without valid information. Some they believed themselves: Sick, perverted, queer, demented, disgusting, pansy, fairy.... they went on and on. To their teenage, half-man half-child minds, there was no reconciling these words, these attitudes, with how they felt about each other, about themselves. And so they left in disgrace.

That was November 1965. Now it was April 1966. In a little over five months the boys had met a professed, open, homosexual who had taken them in and taught them how to live with themselves. They had learned from Jerry how to use their own natural resources, as it were, to advantage. They had looks, youth, keen minds and of course, their own special... talents: they were more or less comfortable in intimate situations with both genders. So life had meaning again. All three youths were riding high, life once more could and would go on like this forever. They were making a good living, had two cars and a nice place to live, and closets full of nice clothes. Under Jerry's coaching Charlie and Dan had learned to dress and groom to capitalize on their looks, had learned to dance and conduct themselves well; and possibly most important, they had regained their self-respect. Most of their friends knew who and what they were and had no problem with it. Indeed, most of their friends were themselves homosexuals. Charlie and Dan had learned to their astonishment that, aside from their bedtime preferences, they were ordinary people with good and bad, happy and unhappy, highs and lows. This realization helped immensely to put the two boys back on top of their own lives.

It was late April when Dan arrived home early one hot Thursday evening. All three had dates tonight, all three expected to be out most of the night. But a little before ten Dan was home, his world shattered in a million pieces. He roamed about the town house looking for comfort and finding none. He knew the others weren't due home for hours, but still he hoped that perhaps one or the other of them would be asleep in bed. Satisfying himself that the house was empty, Dan settled himself in front of the TV with a beer. And another, and another.

When Jerry and Charlie finally arrived home, about four a.m, they were greeted with an awesome sight. Dan was sitting in his favorite chair in front of the TV, surrounded by empty beer cans and two empty bourbon bottles. He was wearing his favorite white sweat suit, but right now it did little to enhance his looks. He had been sick, but he was too drunk to move; so the front was stained and coated with his vomit. His pants were wet from waist to knees where he had wet himself, and from the odor in the room it was apparent there was more than urine in his pants. Dan wasn't passed out, but he wasn't lucid either. He was sitting slumped in the chair, his glassy eyes staring sightlessly into the ancient movie that was blaring on the TV. "What the..." Jerry exclaimed as the two looked at Dan, then at each other.

"I wanna die," Dan moaned as his pals, one on each arm, lifted his dead weight out of his chair and headed him for the bathroom.

"You just might, too," Jerry chuckled, "if you drank all those bottles and cans dry by yourself." As if to prove he had indeed consumed all the booze in the house, Dan's mouth erupted again, spraying all three of them with a mixture of beer, bourbon, and bile. Charlie had all he could do to keep himself from doing the same, but Jerry was unaffected, or so it seemed.

"What the hell happened?" Charlie started demanding, but Jerry stopped him.

"Not now," he instructed. "He doesn't know who he is, much less what happened to him."

They deposited Dan unceremoniously in the bathtub, clothes and all, and turned on the water. Dan lay there like a limp doll as Charlie and Jerry undressed him. Charlie found himself wondering if this was really the same gorgeous boy he loved so much, as Dan lay in his own vomit, urine and excrement, repeating over and over that he wanted to die.

It was coming daylight before they got Dan cleaned up and into bed. Twice they got him bathed and dried and into a clean sweat suit, only to have him get sick again. The third time they just left him naked, placed towels under and around him, and poured him into the spare bed. Charlie wanted to stay with him but Jerry said no, that Dan was best sleeping it off alone. At first they thought Dan's laments and death wishes were the effects of his drunken condition, but they began to realize that something had happened; something that had sent Dan, totally devastated, to the bottle.

Charlie had finally seen the humor in the spectacle Dan had made of himself, but Jerry was obviously very concerned. "It's no big deal," Charlie chuckled, "He just got wasted 'cause he was home early and had nothing to do. He'll be ok."

"I hope so." Jerry mused.

"You don't sound convinced."

"I've seen it many times on the street, Charlie. Kids find themselves homeless for whatever reason. They do OK till their money runs out, then they start doing what they have to do to live. Very often they wind up hustling, and that works ok too until they lose their self respect. Then they start drinking, or worse, taking drugs. From there they lose more respect, get high more, and lose whatever self control they had. They take more chances, break the law more, and you can stand and watch them going downhill. If you try to tell them what's happening, they just say they don't care, that they have no life anyway. I dunno what happened tonight, but it obviously devastated Dan."

It was early Friday evening before Dan was in any condition to discuss the incident. Of course he had a raging headache and was still quite sick, because Dan was not normally a heavy drinker. Even if he had been so inclined, Jerry would never have allowed it.

Charlie and Jerry were sitting in the kitchen eating a sandwich when Dan, wearing a towel and nothing else, came stumbling down the stairs. Charlie tried unsuccessfully to stifle his grin as he asked, "You okay, Danny?" All three had dates tonight, but Jerry had already called and canceled Dan's.

Dan looked at the two of them, first one, then the other, then astonished them both again when he sank into a chair and started to cry. His entire body shook with spasms as he buried his pounding head in his arms on the table and sobbed uncontrollably. Charlie's bewildered look begged Jerry for an explanation, but Jerry too was at a loss.

Charlie was standing beside Dan, massaging his neck the way Jerry had taught them, as they both tried to determine what had happened to get him so upset. "Dan," Jerry pleaded, "we can't help if we don't know what's wrong." More sobs, then some mumbled, totally unintelligible words.

"We can't understand, Dan," Charlie coaxed. "Please calm down and tell us..."

"We're whores!" Dan fairly shouted. "We're nothin' but common faggot whores!" Jerry looked at Charlie and shrugged.

"So?" Charlie demanded. But even as he spoke he began to understand what was going on. Dan had evidently not, until this point, put the whole thing together. Of course he knew what he was doing, but his middle class sheltered mind had somehow justified their behavior as something different. Jerry's befuddled look said he was no closer to the truth, and still neither knew what had happened to set Dan off.

"Charlie," Dan was wailing, "you, me, Jerry, we're nothin' but common, dirty prostitutes! Common whores, and everybody knows it. Our friends, our clients, prob'ly even our families!"

Dan was starting to get control of himself now, and Jerry seized the opportunity to get him talking. "Dan," he soothed as his hands joined Charlie's massaging Dan's slender neck and shoulders, "please tell us what happened? Something went wrong last night... What?" Before Jerry could say any more, Dan was sobbing again and relating his experience of the night before.

"I know it's silly and I guess I shoulda figured it out before, but things were going so well, we were havin' so much fun, I guess I just didn't think about it, really. But last night when Tony got pissed off..."

"Tony?" Charlie interrupted, "your date?"

"Yeah. He got real mad at me."

"Mad? Why?"

"Cause I wouldn't cooperate. He wanted to pick up one o' the street hustlers, then watch while we went at each other. He had a camera too... a whole studio he said, and he'd make a movie if we were good enough. I said no, that I had more self respect than that.

"Tony said what's the big deal? He'd give me a little shot of something to relax me, then I could have a real good time and become a star. Said he knew where to find me a fourteen year old that was great looking and high most of the time. 'You gonna pass up a sweet deal like that,' he asked, 'and are you gonna let the kid get all the free dope?' I said I sure was, and told him as soon as he paid me for my time I was leaving 'cause I don't do drugs and I don't do kids high on drugs and I don't do movies. And that's when he got really pissed!

"'Who the fuck do you think you are?' He asked me. 'Kinda high and mighty for a little cocksucking whore, ain't ya? Just 'cause you have a phone number an' nice clothes don't make you any different. Take a little shit like you and dress you up, give ya a place to stay, and suddenly you think you're better'n all the other little fags on the street. Well, you're not! You're just a common little whore like all the rest, so get outa them clothes and let me take some pictures, then we'll go get your partner for the night.' I said no, that the evening was over and I was leaving. He said he didn't think so, then he took out a big leather whip and started swinging it around."

Charlie was suddenly shocked, and evidently so was Jerry. Despite all their own experiences, they had carefully avoided thoughts that Dan might find himself in such a situation.

"What'd you do?" Charlie wanted to know.

"My grandfather had a whip something like that," Dan went on, "for the horses on the farm. One day my cousin and I were fooling around and he hit me across the bare legs with that whip. The pain was the most intense I ever felt in my life! Do? What the hell d'ya think I did? I jumped him and grabbed that whip, and wrapped it around his greasy neck, that's what!"

Dan was feeling better now, the rush of having easily subdued his aggressor giving him a much needed boost. "I gave him a couple kicks in the nuts," he went on, "just to quiet him down, then I left. Oh, yeah, I took what he owed me out of his wallet. We whores haveta live, right?"

As quickly as he had emerged, Dan again fell into a deep depression. Jerry was embracing him now, his fingers wandering through Dan's hair. For the first time, Charlie noticed how long and slender those fingers were. "Pianist's fingers," he thought to himself, then grinned as he corrupted his own thought, "Or PENIS fingers!"

"Dan," Jerry said as he held him to his chest like he would a small boy, "it's just a word. That guy was angry 'cause you had principles and rules you wouldn't break, and I guess he wasn't used to that. Sure, we been selling sex and that makes us whores; but we're not dirty and we're not common. The fact that you wouldn't go along with him proves that."

"I was brought up better'n that, Jer," Dan whispered. "I was brought up to believe that my body is sacred, and if I sell it I'm a whore, clean or not."

"Me too," Jerry lied, "but I was brought up liking to eat too. And ya don't eat if ya don't have money. The fact is, Dan, that if we never sell our bodies again we're still whores, or worse, in most peoples' eyes. We love men, and that makes us homosexuals, and that makes us less than human in most opinions. So we do what we have to do, and we work to get ourselves out of the muck we're in. That's why it's so important to learn to dance, to dress well, to have good manners. I'm looking forward to the day when we never have to drop our pants again if we don't want to. But it takes work, and in the meantime we have to eat.

"Or would you rather sling burgers for minimum wage, kiss the ass of every ignorant bad mannered customer that walks in the door and get fired the first time you don't? There's more than one way to be a prostitute, Danny boy. But you should be proud of yourself. You stuck to your guns and didn't take any shit. We got rules, and you didn't let some guy intimidate you into breaking them. Nope, you're not as much of a whore as the man who kisses his boss's butt for thirty years, stays in the job even though he hates it, cheats his customers and then goes to church on Sunday all prim and proper. Now that's a whore!"

Jerry had unwittingly stirred some memories in Dan's mind. He remembered his father discussing a job he'd been offered. It meant more money, he'd said, but he would be called upon to compromise his integrity. He had turned it down, saying his self respect was more important to him than a newer car, a bigger savings account. Dan still didn't feel real good about what he was doing, but both he and Charlie began to understand for the first time that Jerry had a master plan, and that plan would hopefully get them out of their current situation and into one that was more respectable. But contrary to what most of the world would think, Jerry's plan demanded self respect and integrity. He would knowingly hurt no one; he would cheat no one, nor would he lie! Jerry, they were learning, had more integrity and higher scruples than a lot of the well respected businessmen they'd known as they grew up.

Jerry attacked Tony, Dan's date, explaining that his films and video tapes were sold for huge profits all over the world. "He called you a whore," Jerry exclaimed, "yet he's willing to take a fourteen year old kid, dope him up and photograph him being fucked or whatever, maybe hurt or even killed!" Jerry's red face suggested he'd had encounters with these animals before. "He's not a whore," he spit the words out, "he's not good enough to be called a whore. And I'm gonna put that bastard outa business!"

Up to this point, Jerry had always seemed very gentle and peace loving to the other two; but now the anger, the vehemence fairly oozed from his pores. "You can't go over there," Charlie protested, "you said yourself, he's dangerous."

"I'm not. Danny is."

Now Charlie was ready for a fight. "No fuckin' way!" he fairly screamed.

"Yes fuckin' way!" Dan screamed back, then screwed up his face in response to the fresh spasms of pain in his head. "Watcha got in mind, Jer?" Dan pictured in his mind all three of them storming Tony's house, trashing the place, and destroying all his films and equipment. But again Jerry had a surprise for him.

"If you'd been in this business very long," Jerry explained, "you'd know enough to wonder how come the law never bothers us. Well, you're gonna find out why. I got friends on the force, and they look the other way when they see us, but only 'cause they know we're not doin' any real harm, and they also know they can depend on us to help clean up the garbage."

"Garbage?" Dan and Charlie chorused.

"Garbage. You got a better name for the motherfuckers that dope and rape fourteen year old boys?"

Both Dan and Charlie pictured in their minds a much miniaturized little boy, so high on drugs his head flopped about loosely while a huge man with a gigantic penis violated him repeatedly, first in the mouth, then the behind, then back to the mouth. Of course in their minds the boy was very innocent, almost angelic looking. So they agreed to give it a shot.

After being prompted by Jerry on what to say, Dan nervously dialed Tony's number. He knew he would only get a machine because the phone he called was not in Tony's house, but he was also pretty sure Tony would call him back. He told the machine that he was really sorry, that he'd been taken somewhat off guard by the proposition, but that he'd like to make up for his bad behavior. "Okay," he said to Jerry as he hung up, "now what?"

"You go back to bed," Jerry ordered. "We have dates tonight. I'll make arrangements for us to see Chuck Dalzell tomorrow or Sunday."

"Who's that?"

"Lieutenant Chuck Dalzell."

"A cop? But you said..."

"I lied. He's a friend, okay? If Tony calls back, set it up for Monday or Tuesday. If he wants you tonight say you already have a date."

"Jerry, are you outa your ever-lovin' mind?" Chuck Dalzell yelled as they talked in the small restaurant in the better part of town. It was Sunday morning, early, and Jerry had just informed him that Dan was expected at Tony's studio Monday night at nine. Dan had practically made himself sick by going on to Tony about how he couldn't get that kid off his mind, that in his business his clients were mostly older men, but he really liked young boys. He had been so convincing he had disgusted Jerry and Charlie too. He had evidently convinced Tony too, because he'd said he would cancel another session and take Dan on Monday night. But now Chuck wasn't real big on the idea at all. "I know that guy," Chuck went on. "He's dangerous, and he's not stupid. What if he's onto your little game?"

"Hey," Jerry grinned proudly, "you don't know these two like I do. They're not helpless little fags, not by a long sight. Besides, you'll be there, and he'll be wearin' a wire, right?"

"Wrong! I told ya, he's not stupid. Dan's so adamant about his code of behavior that he wraps a whip around the guy's neck, then he has a change of heart and calls back and apologizes? The very first thing he'll do is check for a wire, and if he finds one, Dan is history."

"But, without a wire..." Dan was looking first to Jerry, then to Chuck and Charlie, his big brown eyes demanding from all three what he was getting into. But Jerry wasn't the only one with surprises for the troops.

"Lieutenant," Dan said as he burst in on the argument.

"Chuck. Call me Chuck."

"Okay, Chuck. There's something I'm not understanding here. You say this guy is known to the police, that you know he makes kiddie porn movies and pumps the kids full of drugs, maybe even kills some of 'em. Now we come along and invite you in on my date tomorrow..."

"There isn't gonna be any date tomorrow night!"

"Now it's you who doesn't understand. We're not asking your opinion on my date 'cause it's all set up and I'm goin'. The only question is, are you gonna help us put this scum outa business or not, 'cause I'm scared of him. But if you're opting out, we'll just have to do it ourselves."

Chuck eyed his young assailant, then Jerry, then Charlie. Whatever the good detective was or wasn't, he was a good judge of character; and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Dan meant exactly what he said. "All right," he sighed, "but you sure didn't give me much time. I'll see if I can get one of those new ultra-compact transmitters."

It was a little after nine when a very nervous teen rang the doorbell in front of a small bungalow in southern Daytona. The house, Dan thought with disgust, could have, and probably did at one time, contain a family with mother, father, kids, toys... And now it was full of sewer rats! Dan was wearing two tiny button transmitters: one in his left ear, the other up his nose. Chuck had coached him most of the day, instructing him about what he could and could not say. Of course they were concerned about entrapment, but at the same time Dan had to appear anxious for the upcoming film session.

The boys were all, including Jerry, truly amazed at Chuck's knowledge and his willingness to be very explicit about what was and was not acceptable. He was not gay, he told them, yet he discussed in detail with no hesitation or judgment, what Dan should and shouldn't say and do with the kid, if he materialized; with Tony, or with anyone else that might show up. He warned his young undercover agent that Tony was very dangerous and also very slippery. They knew for sure about four youths he had killed and suspected him of three more; yet they couldn't get any firm evidence. "You may think that his guard is completely down," Chuck lectured, "but don't you believe it. He is a master at lowering your guard by leading you to believe he's done the same."

"C'mon in," Tony said jovially as he opened the door, "We're waitin' for ya, and I think you're in for a pleasant surprise." Dan almost automatically assumed the position, so sure was he that he'd be frisked, but he caught himself just in time. Of course such an action would be a dead giveaway. "When you said you liked 'em young," Tony chattered, "I decided to do something a little different."

"Different?" Dan asked nervously, "Like what?"

"You'll see," Tony replied with a grin.

"But the hustler..."

"Terry. Yeah, he's here. But that's not all." Dan noticed that Tony was so excited that his voice was rising in pitch. He opened a door and ushered Dan inside a large bedroom. There were cameras along two walls; what had been a walk-in closet had been converted into a control room with more audio and video equipment than Dan had ever seen before in his life. But what caught and held Dan's gaze was a small object on the large bed, and it made his blood turn to ice.

Sitting on the bed was a young boy, rather tough looking but still quite attractive, with a grin that appeared to be painted on. He was clad only in boxer shorts, his skin so white he looked unwell under the harsh lights that were everywhere. That must be Terry, Dan thought, but what drew and held his attention was a small child lying asleep on the bed beside Terry. He was six or seven, Dan judged, a very handsome, clean, well-kept little boy. He was dressed like the typical boy next door: Light colored shorts, striped T-shirt, white socks and tennis shoes; all were immaculately clean. Dan had seen thousands like him before, but for the first time he thought, the child was absolutely beautiful, and Dan knew instantly that this was no street kid. He also knew instantly that this kid wasn't here of his own free will, and he knew he had to do everything in his power, risk everything including his life if necessary, to restore this gorgeous creature to his life, whatever that might be.

"I can tell by your face that you're surprised," Tony beamed. "Pleased too, I'd say."

"You don't know the half of it," Dan managed to say. "Who... where did he...?" Dan's every instinct was screaming at him to attack this sleaze ball and tear him to shreds, but he was committed now, and determined to carry the act through to its logical conclusion.

"Let's just say he's new talent," Tony smiled, "brought in just for the occasion."

"But he's so still, just lying there. Is he all right?"

"He's fine. Just a sedative, and it should be wearing off soon. You get to give him the real good stuff, right in his little boy vein, right on camera and just before you rape him. This film should make millions!"

Dan almost lost his supper, almost attacked Tony on the spot and tore his face off. But Terry was there, and Danny didn't yet know where he was coming from. It had never occurred to him before but he had apparently stumbled on a kidnapper, and one with a difference: This bastard made a business of stealing little, and I mean REALLY little kids, then filming their molestation, their torture, and God only knows what else. Dan's mind was zooming a million miles a second as he tried to think of a way to get that little boy out of here. He knew he had to appear interested, even anxious, but he also knew there was no way on earth that he could molest, or even frighten, such a beautiful, defenseless child.

And then there was Terry. What was in his mind? How did he feel about the child? How did he feel about Dan? Where would his loyalties be if push came to shove? "I gotta make a phone call," Tony was saying. "Why don't you two guys get acquainted, then work on waking our new friend so we can get started?" As Tony left the room an idea was forming in Dan's mind; an idea that terrified him.

Jerry and Charlie were frantic as they sat at home in front of a blaring, unseen TV. They had wanted to be in on the raid, but Chuck had said absolutely not. They had wanted to watch in their car from a distance, but again the answer had been no. "You do," Chuck warned, "and I'll find an excuse to arrest you! If you really want to help him," he said solemnly, "if you really care about Dan, you'll stay home and let us do our thing. We're gonna be busy enough not to have to worry about you two interfering." And so they sat at home and imagined all sorts of things going wrong. Had they been privy to all the developments, they really would have freaked. Even Dan, the one who had most at stake, didn't know the full story.

As Dan stood trying to figure out a strategy for getting the sleeping little boy out of danger before things started to happen, Chuck sat outside listening to the sounds coming from Dan's hidden mikes, getting the whole thing recorded, and wondering where the hell his backup units were. Unknown to Chuck, his backup had been intercepted by a superior officer and sent across town to assist in a possible drug bust. Why hadn't Chuck been told? That was a question that got asked a lot over the ensuing hours and days; but the fact of the matter is, there were those in the police department who didn't share Chuck's sympathy to the plight of homeless boys, especially when those boys were known homosexuals.

Chuck sat nervously in the equipment van, listening to the goings on in the house courtesy of Dan's bugs. Dan had evidently been surprised by something and had been taken completely off guard. But after he had regained his composure, he made sure by the comments he made that Chuck knew there was a kidnaped little boy in the house, and that Dan was expected to drug and rape him. "Jesus Christ!" Chuck murmured to his partner. "Where the hell is our backup? We gotta get him outa there!"

"Relax," Rufus answered, "He's doin' just fine. They'll be here in lots of time."

As soon as Tony was out of the room, Dan was on the little boy in a flash, almost completely ignoring Terry. Dan picked up the boy just as his eyes opened sleepily, unsure of where he was. Dan held him in a tight embrace and whispered in his ear, "Keep your eyes closed. Don't answer me and don't let them know you're awake. I'm your friend. I'm gonna get you outa here somehow, but for now you have to let them think you're still asleep. If you understand, pinch my arm." The next few seconds were like an eternity for Dan. Did the kid hear him? Would he cooperate? What reason did Dan have to expect a total stranger to trust him? How much had the kid already been through, and how much did he already know? And even if he did go along, what the hell was Dan going to do next?

Dan was about to give up when he felt a slight, tentative, yet unmistakable pinch on his left biceps. "Great," he whispered, "Now whatever happens, don't wake up till I say the dam's busted. Then be ready to do whatever I say. I'm gonna try and wake you now, but you just keep right on sleeping. Remember, when I say the dam's busted, that's your signal."

Dan lay the child gently on the floor, then turned his attention to Terry. "He's still out cold," he lied, "but that doesn't mean you and I have to wait." He put his arms around the younger boy in a tight embrace and feigned desire for him. "He's pretty," Dan whispered, "but you're gorgeous! What say we make those cameras really cook before the little shit wakes up?"

Terry returned the embrace half-heartedly and whispered back, "He ain't gonna wake up. I heard what you told him, Danny boy."

Dan's heart sank. What now? Fortunately, Dan thought, Terry had whispered in his left ear, the one that was bugged. Frantic now, he had to be convincing. "Hey, man," he whispered back, "I'm not really happy about this little kid thing, but you! I find you irresistible! I just wanted him outa the way so I could make it with you." To make it more convincing, Dan's right hand was groping Terry's personal places and Terry was responding favorably. "Relax," he whispered, "I'm with ya on this one. I'm not into killing or even fucking kids either."

Dan went weak. He felt as if he might be going to pass out. "Killing?" he quizzed.

"Yeah, killing. Wadda ya suppose happens to a little kid like that after we get through pumpin' him full of half a dozen different drugs, then rape him silly on both ends till you can see daylight up his ass? Can't exactly send him home and let him tell his story next time he goes to Sunday School, now can we? Where you been, Dan, on the moon?"

Before the two boys could discuss a strategy, Tony was back and demanding to know what they were doing. Dan didn't like it, but he decided he had no choice but to trust Terry.

"Kid's out cold as a clam," Dan said as indifferently as he could, "But this one's really hot!" He was groping Terry again, trying to appear desirous almost out of control. "I gotta hand it to ya, Tony," he added, "you sure can pick 'em." Dan wasn't feeling all that great about what he was about to do, because Terry wasn't exactly an old man either. But he reasoned that, like himself, Terry was probably much older in experience that his chronological age. Terry had joined in the game, to Dan's relief, and was returning Dan's advances with enthusiasm. Tony wanted to wait for the little boy to wake up, but Dan and Terry both begged to get started. "You won't be sorry," they promised. "We'll make your cameras smoke like the film inside was on fire."

Finally Tony agreed. Dan was suddenly remembering all Chuck's instructions and how he should avoid anything physical else he himself might be charged; but all bets were off now. All that was really important was to save that little boy. So he started peeling his clothes as Tony started the cameras.

"Before we start," Terry said when they were both undressed, "You got any of that good stuff, Tony?" Tony said that he did as he dug in his pocket.

"No," Dan protested again, every nerve in his body trying to force him to panic and run. "I want you to feel everything I'm gonna do, 'cause then you'll respond all the better. I want you fully awake, baby, so you can follow my lead." Terry caught Dan's double meaning and agreed to forget the needle, at least for the moment. On the pretext that the story would excite him, Dan wanted to know the details of the little boy. Tony told them how he had snatched the kid as he walked home from school, all the time Dan and Terry were getting more and more physical on the bed. He told them he had kidnaped young boys twice before, had abused them for several weeks until he lost interest, then simply allowed them to have all the heroine they wanted. Naturally it hadn't been any time until they OD'd, whereupon he just dumped them in a landfill. "It's not as if I killed them," Tony said indifferently, "they kinda did that to themselves."

Dan was wishing he hadn't asked for the details. So disgusted was he, so devastated by visions of little boys much like the one who now lay 'sleeping' beside the bed, he had trouble even faking his involvement with Terry. He tried to tell himself what a great looking kid Terry was, and that he should be enjoying his work as usual, but the keyword here was KID. Terry was less than immaculately clean, and the odor Dan encountered was far from erotic.

When Terry ejaculated there was no condom to contain it; When he tried to deposit a load in Dan's anus there was no condom, no spermicide, no lubrication. Dan felt dirty, disgusted, violated. At the last moment Dan managed to roll over, forcing Terry to withdraw. Terry was not passionate nor was he tender, but rather physical and abusive. He seemed to be enjoying himself at Dan's expense, which made it all the more difficult for Dan to keep up the charade. All the time the two porno stars were rolling about the bed, Dan kept wondering, Where's Chuck? and Chuck kept wondering, Where's my goddammed backup?

After two hours of intense physical activity, by no means lovemaking in Dan's opinion, Tony had had enough. Under his direction Terry had deposited his semen in and on various parts of Dan's body, and Dan had done the same to Terry. Both their bodies, including their hair, were covered with the slimy discharge from the other's orgasms. Tony evidently had a real thing about recording that fluid on film, but now he had decided he wanted a little boy in his masterpiece.

"No more," he ordered as the two sexual gladiators rested. "Dan, get the kid. If he doesn't wake up, rape him in his sleep. I guarantee that'll wake him."

Dan nervously went to pick up the still form on the floor. He could feel the tiny body tense as he picked him up. Good, he thought, he's fully awake. "Get ready," he whispered, "It's show time. But don't wake up yet." Then out loud he said, "Wakey, wakey, little buddy, Uncle Danny's got a real nice treat for you." Dan was expecting the door to come crashing down any second, but still there was so sign of Chuck.

"What's his name?" Dan stalled as he laid his burden on the bed.

"Eric, I think he said," Tony recalled, "Yeah, Eric."

"Wake up, Eric baby," Dan said tenderly, "I'm gonna give ya something that'll make you feel real good... better'n you ever felt in your life. Then Uncle Terry and I are gonna let you join in our game, and you're gonna make us feel real good too."

Out of the corner of his eye Dan could see Tony approaching. He had a hypodermic syringe and a tourniquet in one hand and a very ugly looking knife in the other. "Here," he instructed, "Give 'im this in the arm, then I'll just cut his clothes off."

"What'll he wear, if you cut his clothes off?" Dan protested.

"Don't worry about it," was the indifferent reply, "He won't be needing them anymore."

Dan looked down at the still form of the beautiful child, but what he saw jarred him to his toes. He pictured big blue eyes, open but lifeless and rolled back in their sockets. The clothes were gone and there was blood everywhere; his tiny little boy penis was chewed half off, and there were worms emerging out of every orifice in the tiny body. Shaking his head to clear himself of the image, Dan again wondered where the hell Chuck had got to. He was just about to start screaming and grab Eric to carry him out when Terry approached from the rear.

"C'mon, Dan," he chided, "You gonna shoot him up, or are you keeping that one for yourself?" Dan looked around at Terry in time to catch an almost-wink. "Matter of fact," Dan said, "I was kinda thinking of it for me. That okay, Tony?" Tony eyed him suspiciously. "I thought you didn't do drugs?" he accused.

"Never screwed a little boy in front of a camera before either, but I'm gonna in a few minutes. You got a problem with me gettin' a little high first?"

Tony decided it would be all right, but Terry started whining, insisting that he be first. They argued, Tony backed away two steps and tried to tell them he had lots for all of them. Still they argued. Finally Tony could take no more. "Knock it off," he bellowed as he waved his knife at the two naked boys. "Shut up and sit down. You'll all get a fix, but the kid goes first. Dan, you shoot him up. Terry, help him."

"Me first, or nobody," Dan asserted. He was still wondering where the hell Chuck was. Things were getting far more intense than he liked.

"Me!" Terry argued.

"The kid, and right now," Tony ordered. "Shoot him up with that, and I'll get two more."

Terry picked up the tiny arm and skillfully applied the tourniquet. Eric opened his eyes, stark terror showing in every pore on his face. "It's okay," Dan mouthed, "Not yet. But get ready." While Tony was occupied getting two more needles ready, Dan plunged the needle into the mattress and shoved the plunger home. Terry grabbed the needle out of Dan's hand and pricked Eric's arm, causing the boy to flinch and start to cry. "There," Dan soothed as he motioned for Eric to be quiet, "In a couple minutes, you're gonna feel so good you'll think you're in heaven."

"Now it's my turn," Terry proclaimed.

"I'm goin' in," Chuck announced finally.

"You can't," Rufus objected, "Not alone."

"What I can't do," Chuck said, "Is leave those three kids in there alone any longer. Jesus, Ruf, He's gettin' them high, gonna rape that little boy and likely kill all three before he's done. I was hoping you'd go with me, but with or without you, I'm goin' in."

"He won't kill 'em till he gets his movie. Besides, they're nothin' but a couple little fags anyway." Chuck eyed his partner incredulously. He knew Rufus didn't share his tolerance of gays, but this... even for Rufus, this seemed heartless.

"I'll pretend you didn't say that," Chuck responded evenly, "because there's no time to argue. But one of 'em is a tiny little boy, probably scared shitless right now. I think it's gonna get ugly, and I don't want three lives on my conscience. And if you really meant what you just said, I suggest you start looking for a new partner. Now are you comin' or not?"

Rufus watched his partner check his revolver, then the pair left the van and headed for the house. They paused again, looking for their backup; but the street was deserted.

Tony held two needles in one hand and the knife in the other. "First his clothes," he said as the boys reached for the needles.

"Wouldn't you rather film us undressing him?" Dan suggested. He still hadn't figured out how he was going to avoid that needle, but right now it wasn't important.

"What I'd rather," Tony said as his patience wore thin, "is that you two stop fuckin' around and let's get this show goin'! You guys shoot up while I get this little fucker ready." He handed the boys their needles and started for Eric. Panicking again, Dan dropped his needle and made a grab for the knife.

"Don't touch him!" he ordered. Tony saw the movement and ducked just in time, and Dan's hand closed on the blade of the knife, giving him a nasty gash.

Terry sat on the arm of a chair and watched with glazed eyes, the needle in his hand demanding his attention. He wanted that needle; he needed it; he had earned it.

"Run, Eric!" Dan screamed, "The dam's busted! Get the hell outa here!" Eric obediently sprang to his feet and bolted for the door. Dan screamed again: "Chuck, if you can hear me, get the fuck in here!" Tony was jabbing and swinging at Dan with his knife and Dan was avoiding it easily, at the same time searching for a weapon of his own. Terry was still mesmerized by the needle in his hand. It seemed to be smiling at him, beckoning him. His mouth was dry, his eyes watering, his hands starting to tremble.

Just as Dan was deciding to go on the offensive and take the knife away from his opponent, he tripped over a wire and fell, striking his head on the corner of the bed. The room spun around, everything appeared red, then brown, and he felt himself floating. He fought desperately to keep from losing consciousness, knowing very well if he did it would be all over. As he hit the floor face up, he could see Tony kneeling over him, knife raised, but it didn't register. He felt no fear, no alarm, as the knife began to descend toward his heart. He was fully aware that he was about to die, but it didn't matter; wasn't important; as though he were watching the whole process from afar.

Dan felt something bump him from the other side as Terry sprang over him and onto Tony, knocking him backward to the floor and off Dan. Still conscious but still dazed, Dan watched as Tony sprawled on his back with Terry full on top of him, pummeling and clawing at his face. Tony's right hand, still clutching the knife, hardly paused in its downward motion, but merely changed direction and plunged deep into Terry's back. Dan watched through bleary eyes with that same detached indifference as blood fairly gushed from Terry's mouth, his eyes popped wide open in total surprise, and he fell sideways, the knife still protruding from his back.

"Now, my troublesome little cocksucker," Tony hissed as he shook himself free from the bleeding body, "I'm gonna reward you for all the grief you've caused me." Dan felt his arm being lifted, felt the pinch of the tourniquet being applied, the prick of a needle. Just as he was starting to get his wits back, a flood of euphoria surged through his body as the heroine did its job. Whatever else was happening or going to happen no longer mattered; Dan was high, very high!

When finally Chuck and Rufus came running in, Tony was just about to administer the second needle. The two combined would be more than enough to kill, and Tony knew it. "Drop it!" Chuck ordered.

"I will," Tony mocked, "Soon as I fix this queer up." Tony knew that Dan was a witness, the only witness; and cops or no cops, Tony couldn't afford witnesses.

"I said drop it," Chuck demanded again, "I'll give you a count of three." That's all I need, Tony thought as he shoved the needle into Dan's bulging vein. He never pushed the plunger though; six bullets, three from each of two guns trained on him, went crashing into his head, disintegrating it. And now there were sirens outside.

If you like this story, or for that matter if you don't, please let me know by writing to charlieje@mindspring.com