Timmy and the Travellers – Chapter 12

At the end of the last chapter we saw Truscott suffering both physically and mentally at the hands of Carlington and his fellow juniors, and now Timmy's going to be the one who's on hand to see the consequences...


Somehow Truscott got through the two classes between break and lunch. His bottom was really hurting, but his mental state was worse: by the start of the Easter holidays he knew he wouldn't be a boy any longer, just a plaything for the juniors and the travellers to treat as a girl whenever they wanted. As soon as the bell went for the start of the lunch break he stood up and started walking like a zombie towards the school's main entrance.

Timmy had noticed how quiet Truscott was - not surprising, in view of what had happened to him the previous evening, he thought - plus, he was still taking a lot of flak because of his short trousers. He assumed the boy would get over it, though to be honest he didn't care that much: bullies deserve to suffer, he thought. But then he noticed that Truscott had left his bag behind.

"Oi, Truscott!" he called, but Truscott had already gone. Oh, well, it's none of my business, he thought - but on the other hand, if a teacher found it and took it to him, wouldn't that teacher notice that there was something wrong - and wasn't it possible that the whole story might come out, especially if Truscott felt as bad as he had looked since break? And that might get the travellers into trouble, and that meant Christy...

Timmy packed his own books away, walked over to the desk where Truscott had been sitting, picked up his bag as well and left the room. At first he couldn't see Truscott anywhere, but then he caught sight of him just as he disappeared through the doors into the main building. He set off after him.

Inside there was once again no sign of him, but there were a couple of younger boys just inside the door, so he asked if they had seen Truscott. They didn't know him by name, but said that an older boy of that description had gone up the stairs. Wondering why on earth Truscott would be going that way, when the only places upstairs were the main hall, the library (which was closed during the lunch break) and the drama storage rooms, Timmy started up the stairs himself.

He reached the hall, and then the library, but there was nobody in the hall and the library was locked. He carried on up, past the equally locked storage cupboards, to the top of the stairs, where there was a door leading only onto the roof. The door was open, so he went through it - and saw Truscott walking slowly across the flat roof.

He watched Truscott reach the railings at the edge of the roof and start to climb over them, and then he realised what was happening, He dropped the two bags and ran across the roof, grabbing Truscott's arm as he stepped off the railings onto the foot wide parapet beyond.

"What are you doing?" he cried, as if it wasn't blatantly obvious.

"Leave me alone, Collier."

"Don't be stupid! For God's sake, Truscott, it isn't that bad!"

"Yes, it is. Let go of my arm."

"It isn't! Look, Truscott, whatever they've done to you, there's only another week to the end of term - and they've promised to leave you alone next term so you can do your exams. Surely you can get through one more week?"

"They haven't promised that at all - they just said they might. But they won't - Carlington hates me."

"They will! I'll make them!"

"You?! You couldn't make a mouse do anything, Collier."

"No, but the travellers can, and I can make sure they do, I promise."

"That's not the only thing, though, is it? You know what they did to me last night. I... I don't want to be a girl, Collier. I'd sooner be dead."

"No! Look, Truscott, it's like I told you last night: I've had it done to me, too, by Michael and Christy - so if you're a girl, so am I. And I wouldn't rather be dead."

"But you look like a girl, Collier, so it's not so bad for you. And maybe you even enjoy it. I don't, and I don't want..."

He started sobbing, making another ineffectual attempt to drag his arm free from the death grip Timmy had on his sleeve.

"Please, Truscott," begged Timmy. "Please let me try? I can talk to the travellers - they're okay when you get to know them, and I'm sure I can get them to lighten up on you. Christy was really unhappy about how much Michael hurt me when he... you know, did it to me, and he made sure it hasn't happened again since. I'm sure he can do the same for you."

"Why would he bother? Okay, he likes you, but it's pretty fucking obvious that none of them likes me."

"He'll do it if I ask him to."

"And why would you do that? You hate me as much as they do."

"No, I don't... well... okay, Truscott, maybe I don't like you all that much, and I think bullying's bad - but I don't think you deserve to die. Let me talk to them, please?"

"No, you're just saying that. As soon as I come down from here everything will be back to how it was two hours ago."

"It won't, I swear!"

"Don't believe you."

"Okay, then jump," said Timmy, angrily. "But... we're not really all that high up here, you know - maybe it won't kill you. Maybe you'll just break your back, or something, and then you'll still be alive, but you'll be a cripple for the rest of your life, as well as a girl. Sure you want to risk it?"

Truscott peered over the edge. It looked plenty high enough to him, but... he swallowed.

"You promise you'll talk to the travellers?" he asked.

"I promise."

"What about the juniors?"

"Well... I don't think I can do much there - but I will try to keep them off your back next term, at least until after the exams."

Truscott looked at him mistrustfully, but then he took a deep breath and climbed back over the railings.

"Good," said Timmy. "Look, don't bother coming to the garage tonight - I'll tell them I said you didn't have to. I'll talk to you tomorrow and tell you what's going to happen."

Truscott nodded, and headed for the door to the stairs, stopping when he reached it.

"Collier?" he said.



He grabbed his bag and ran down the stairs.

Before the travellers had brought Truscott's operation to a close Lewis and Shabbir had never spoken to each other, despite the fact that they were in the same class: both were extremely shy and neither seemed to have any serious friends at all. But in the past couple of weeks it was clear to everyone that they had become close friends: they sat next to each other in almost every class and they generally spent most break times in each other's company as well. Had they lived a little closer they might also have spent time outside school with each other, but because they lived five miles apart, Lewis living not far from the school while Shabbir lived in Poundford Spa, this hadn't yet happened. But within school it was obvious to everyone else in their class that they really liked each other.

This lunch break they headed to the pavilion once more, running in order to get as much time there as possible. They let themselves in using a knife Shabbir had borrowed from a boy who went to his mosque and made their way up to the top floor.

"What are we going to do today?" asked Lewis eagerly, as soon as they had closed the door to the top left changing room behind them.

"Well, obviously we're going to have to do something about your behaviour," Shabbir told him. "You've been rude to me several times today already..."


"You haven't called me 'Sir' once yet today. And obviously you're supposed to do that, to make sure we both know who's in charge."

Lewis made a rude noise at him.

"And that just makes it worse. Let's see: perhaps I should treat you the way we treat Truscott. I could tie your hands behind your back and lock you in the cupboard until you pee your pants - that would be funny..."

"No, it wouldn't. It wouldn't be fair, either: thith ith thuppothed to be our game - it wouldn't be fair to let anyone elthe laugh at me."

"Then you shouldn't misbehave so much. Actually I think it would be quite funny to make you sit through the afternoon lessons with wet shorts - maybe you'd learn your lesson that way. Still, on the other hand, maybe you don't quite deserve that - or not yet, anyway. So, what else? How about...I make you undress and then lock you in the cupboard naked. I could take all your clothes to our form room, so when I finally decide to let you out - after lunch, maybe - you'd have to run all the way across the yard with your thingy showing. I bet everyone would laugh at that, too. What do you think?"

"No!! You could lock me in the cupboard, thure, but you'd have to give me my clotheth back when you let me out."

"I don't have to do anything. I'm in charge, remember? And you might as well get undressed while we're thinking about what to do to you..."

Lewis gave a big smile and started to strip, hanging his clothes up as he went, until he was once again stark naked. As usual in these circumstances, his penis was very, very stiff.

"Oh dear, you still can't keep your naughty thingy under control, can you?" commented Shabbir. "Okay... maybe what I said earlier would be a good place to start: I'm going to treat you like Truscott. Come here."

He tied Lewis's wrists behind his back using his tie, then took hold of the big erection and pulled Lewis to the door. He dragged him across the little landing to the right hand changing room and pushed him into the small shower cubicle.

"Now let's see you do a pee," he ordered.

"No! That'th private!"

"You don't have anything private from me, remember. Do it, or I will lock you in the cupboard and hide your clothes."

When Truscott had made him do this Lewis had absolutely hated it: he had felt dirty and humiliated. But the thought of being made to do the same thing in front of Shabbir was totally different - he found it exciting, even though it still felt dirty and humiliating. The difference was that he wanted to feel that way in front of Shabbir. He couldn't have explained why, but somehow he loved the thought of Shabbir seeing him in this condition. So he stood facing him, his legs apart, and started to pee.

It immediately became apparent that this was different from when Truscott had made him do the same thing. In front of Truscott his penis had been small and limp, whereas now it was as stiff as it could possibly get, as a result of which his pee, instead of dribbling out, emerged in a fountain that almost went straight up in the air.

"Lean back," ordered Shabbir, seeing this, and Lewis obeyed. And now the water was going straight up in the air, with the result that it fell straight back the way it had come, splashing all over his knob, splattering over his groin and running down onto his balls and thighs. He giggled, making his fountain splash even more, soaking his genitals and legs. Eventually the flow petered out, and he stood still with drips falling from his balls and trickling down his thighs.

"Have you got a towel?" Shabbir asked him. Lewis shook his head.

"You're lucky," Shabbir told him. "I brought one specially. Turn round."

Shabbir found the controls for the shower and turned it on, though because this wasn't Truscott he made the water nice and warm. Lewis moved forward until the warm water hit him on the tummy and then moved from side to side, rinsing all the pee from his lower belly, groin and thighs.

"Okay?" Shabbir asked.

Lewis nodded, so Shabbir turned the water off and picked up his towel. He carefully dried Lewis off, paying particular attention to his private parts, and then used Lewis's still very solid handle to tow him back to the other changing room.

"I like making you act like Truscott," he said, sitting down on the bench. "Let's try something else he has to do. Kneel down."

Lewis obeyed.

"Now you have to lick my thingy."

Lewis looked at him. "Hey, Uthy..." he started, uncertainly, "Mutht I really..?"

"Of course. Put in your mouth and lick it all over."

"But... hey, come on..."

"Do it, or I'll have to beat you - and make you pee in your shorts every day next week as well."

"But... look, Uthy, I really don't want to..."

"I don't care. Do it."

"But... it'll tathte really bad."

"Tough. Truscott survived - so will you. You swore, remember? So do what you're told."

Lewis really wasn't very happy about this, but it was true that he had sworn to obey, so he supposed he had to. Very reluctantly he leaned forward, while Shabbir pulled his shorts and pants down, revealing his eager erection.

Lewis braced himself for a horrible taste and slipped it into his mouth, and immediately felt a whole let better when he realised that it didn't taste bad at all. He licked at it, and again found that it tasted perfectly okay.

"Now close your lips round it and pretend it's an ice lolly," Shabbir told him. "Suck on it and slide it in and out of your mouth - and don't forget to keep licking."

Lewis did that, working steadily away and obeying all Shabbir's instructions as to speed and pressure until he was doing it exactly the way Shabbir wanted. And Lewis, realising what he must look like, suddenly found it incredibly exciting: he was naked, and very, very, stiff, with his hands tied behind his back, doing something totally disgusting to another boy - and it felt absolutely amazing. He recognised that if he were to be made to do this in front of anyone else he would hate it, but with nobody else there it simply felt right.

Shabbir, meanwhile, was enjoying the sensation even more than he had when Truscott had done it to him earlier in the day, and for a similar reason: he had felt slightly strange taking all his clothes off in front of the other juniors, even though by now they were all friends, and he wasn't sure that he would want to do it again - and he wasn't sure about losing control of himself in front of other boys the way he had this morning, either. But here nobody could see him apart from Lewis, whom he trusted absolutely not to talk about it, and so he was able to relax and enjoy the feeling of domination over his friend as well as the increasingly exciting physical sensation of what Lewis was doing to him.

Steadily the feeling grew. This morning he had not known what was going to happen, but this time he did know and so could enjoy the anticipation as well as the actual event. As the feeling started to grow he took hold of Lewis's head, thrusting against it and making sure that Lewis didn't stop too soon - though in fact Lewis gave no indication that he had any intention of stopping. Finally Shabbir couldn't hold it back any longer and cried out as he came - and it seemed to go on longer and feel even better than this morning's experience.

"Okay, you can stop," he told Lewis, who slowly let Shabbir's still stiff penis slip out of his mouth.

"Why did you want me to do that?" he asked.

"Because it feels absolutely brilliant. Which is why I'm going to have to make you do that quite a lot in future."

"Oh. Look... you won't tell anyone, will you?"

"Of course not - as long as you behave, that is. Otherwise... well, just remember that I can punish you however I want."

He pulled up his shorts and pants and then helped Lewis to his feet and untied his hands.



"Are we thtill friendth?"

Shabbir blinked. "What a stupid question!" he said. "Of course we're still friends. Why wouldn't we be?"

"Well... I'm dirty, Uthy. Only really filthy boyth thuck each other. I wath thort of afraid... now you won't like me any more."

"Of course I do, stupid! I mean, I'd have thought it was more likely that you wouldn't like me any more, after I made you do those things."

"I do like you! What we do... well, it'th only a game, ithn't it? Okay, I know if you want you can make me do all that even if I dethide I don't want to, but even then I'll thtill really like you. You're my betht friend, Uthy."

"You, too." Shabbir put his arms round him and hugged him. Lewis hugged him back.

"This is how we should be," said Shabbir.

"What, hugging?"

"Yes. But... we should do it like this, too - me with all my clothes on and you all bare. That way you'll never forget who's in charge."

"I won't forget," said Lewis. "I promithe."

In mid-afternoon it started to rain, and it was still raining at four o'clock. Timmy and Wood ran to the garage, where they found the four travellers waiting for them.

"Where's Truscott?" Michael asked.

"I told him not to come tonight," Timmy told him.


"Because... he's all messed up, Michael. At lunchtime he tried to jump off the roof, and if I hadn't been there I'm sure he would have done. I thought we should give him a little time off to calm down a bit - after all, the juniors have been really giving him a hard time. He can't cope with being turned into a girl."

"Tough. He shouldn't be a bully, then, should he?"

"No, but... we don't really want him to kill himself, do we?"

"I suppose not - but only because people would blame us," said Michael. "Okay, he can have tonight and tomorrow night off, but I want him back here on Monday, okay?"

"I'll tell him," said Timmy.

"Good. Now, what are we going to do tonight?"

"Play hunters!" cried Danny. "I want to see these two running about in the rain - that'll be really funny."

"No, it won't," said Christy. "It'd be dangerous - they might get the flu, or something."

"Then let's play cards. We'll play in teams, like we did before, and whoever loses gets punished."

"Okay," agreed Christy. "Losers have to lie on their back in the garden for two minutes, and if they move they get whipped. Fair?"

"Yeah!" cried Danny. "I want to see your cock shrivel up in the cold!"

So they sat around the table and played poker. There weren't enough chairs, so Timmy sat on Christy's lap and Tom sat on Wood, and each pair played a single hand, discussing between themselves what changes they wanted to make. And tonight Michael and Danny lost by a mile.

"Now who's going to shrivel up?" crowed Christy. "Go on, you two, outside!"

Neither of them argued - a bet was a bet, after all. Naked, they lay down on their backs on the wet grass.

"Right, your two minutes starts... now!" said Christy. "Any movement and you get whipped, remember."

The brothers tried to keep still as the cold rain fell all over them, but Danny had made the mistake of lying with his head just underneath the outer branches of a tree, and as a result big drops fell irregularly onto his face. The second time this happened it hit him right on the left eye, and he gave an involuntary shake of the head.

"Oh, dear," said Tom, gleefully. "Guess who's getting the belt?"

"That's not fair!" cried Danny. "That wasn't a normal raindrop!"

"Too bad."

Michael survived the two minutes unflinching, though he was shivering a little when they let him get up. They took them both back into the garage, threw Michael a towel and told him to dry off and get dressed, but made Danny stand, still dripping, in the corner. When Michael had finished with the towel he passed it to his brother, who was allowed to dry himself but not to get dressed, and then he was bent over the table and given eight strokes of his own belt, two from each of the winners.

"That'll teach you to keep your mouth shut," said Christy, after delivering the final blow.

"No, it won't," said Michael. "He never learns sensible lessons like that."

"Now I want revenge!" said Danny, pulling his clothes back on. "Let's play again!"

"Okay, but no more going outside," said Michael. "Christy was right - we'll end up catching cold if we go out in the rain. Only indoor punishments from now on."

So they played again, only for Michael and Danny to lose once more. This time they were given a choice: either one of them could suck the other, or they could both get ten whips. They chose the whips without hesitation.

Christy and Timmy lost the next game, and Timmy was made to suck Christy off - as he was a slave he wasn't given the option of being beaten instead. When they were at his house Timmy didn't mind sucking Christy at all, but here in front of an audience of jeering, name-calling boys it was a different matter. He worked as hard as he could to try to get it over with, but obviously Christy wasn't enjoying it either because it took him ages to come. Finally he got there and told Timmy to stop.

"That took ages!" said Danny. "I reckon we should beat him, Mikey, 'cos he obviously wasn't trying very hard."

"No, they've had their punishment. Next game."

The four of them tried really hard to make Wood and Tom lose the next game, but they failed: Michael and Danny lost yet again and were made to stroke each other's erections while the others called them dirty names.

"You wait till you two do lose," Danny told Tom. "We'll make you fuck each other."

But, despite playing another two games, Wood and Tom remained undefeated. The other pairs were made to snog each other for five minutes : when this forfeit was awarded to them both Michael and Danny objected strongly, but they were made to do it nonetheless.

"Another game!" cried Danny, desperate to make Tom suffer, but Timmy said that he really had to go or he would miss his bus - he was convinced that he and Christy would lose again, and he was afraid that if they did the others would make Christy put his thing in Timmy's bum. As far as Timmy was concerned, that was something that should only happen when the two of them were alone, and preferably somewhere warm and comfortable, such as Timmy's bedroom.

"You wait till next time," Danny told Tom, darkly. "We'll make you both roll about in cow shit, or something."

"You'll never beat us," replied Tom. "Me and Stephen are class."

On Friday morning Timmy told Truscott that Michael had given him the rest of the week off, but that he wanted to see him on Monday evening. Truscott had said thank you, in a subdued sort of way. Timmy also asked Carlington to give Truscott the day off.

“I suppose so,” said Carlington. “I didn't realise he was quite so desperate... okay, we'll give him until Monday, and maybe we can ease up a little after that – but only because it would spoil our fun if he wasn't around, not because I've suddenly stopped thinking he's a total bastard, understand?”

"That's fine by me," Timmy agreed.

At lunchtime Lewis and Shabbir went to their usual changing room in the pavilion and Lewis got undressed without being told to.

"You're learning, I see," said Shabbir. "Trouble is, you're too slow - today I think I'm going to have to beat you, just to help you to remember to do what you're told a bit more quickly, and without giving me a lot of lip, either. Bend over the table."

Lewis obeyed, and Shabbir took a belt from his bag – though it should be said that he had gone through his entire wardrobe at home and chosen the lightest one he could find - doubled it up and took aim. It landed with a satisfying crack and Lewis yelped and jumped up clutching his bottom.

"Don't move, or I'll have to give you more," warned his master.

Lewis bent down again. Once again he wasn't sure about this: this was supposed to be a game, and games weren't supposed to hurt.

Shabbir hit him again, and again, a little harder each time, and each time Lewis gasped and tried not to move. The fourth and fifth hurt quite a lot, and the sixth seemed to be delivered at full strength: Lewis screamed and leapt upright, clawing at his bottom.

"Sore?" asked Shabbir, his eyes shining.

Lewis nodded hard, not trusting his voice.

"Good, so now you know what happens to rude little boys. Okay, bend down again - now we're getting to the real punishment."

Lewis felt as if he had already received the real punishment: his bottom was really stinging. Still, he supposed that if he really was going to be Shabbir's slave, then his master had the right to beat him whenever he wanted. He realised how much Shabbir was enjoying this, and somehow that made it all right - it hurt, but that was only right: Shabbir was allowed to hurt him if he wanted to. Lewis was surprised to find that his thingy was starting to go hard despite - or maybe even because of - the soreness of his buttocks.

Then he felt something cold touch his bum hole. He looked over his shoulder and found that Shabbir had pulled his shorts and pants down and was now rubbing something onto his thingy. He realised what was going to happen.

"Hey, Uthy," he began, "are you really going to... you know?"

"Of course. It's what you deserve."

"But... didn't Colin tell uth that onthe a boy'th been... you know, that - well, after that he'th not a proper boy, ever again? If you do that to me, won't it make me into a girl?"

"That's right," agreed Shabbir, grinning at him.

"And didn't he tell uth that if you do it to me onthe, after that I have to let you do it again whenever you want to?"

"Right again."

"But... look, Uthy, I don't want to be a girl!"

"Hard luck, then, because you're going to be one. This is a proper punishment for naughty little boys, Sim - after this you won't be a naughty little boy ever again because you won't be a proper boy at all."


"Shut up and bend over, or I'll have to beat you again."

Lewis knew with absolute certainty that if he stood up and told Shabbir that he seriously didn't want this to happen, Shabbir wouldn't do it. But... did he really not want it to happen? Wouldn't it actually be the perfect way of submitting to Shabbir totally, not just for now but for good? And wasn't that what he really wanted, to be Shabbir's complete and inescapable slave? He realised that his thingy was really hard now, which suggested that part of him at least was actually eager to be fucked. Still, he had to go through the motions, so...

"Pleathe, Uthy? Don't make me a girl," he begged, making no attempt to get up or resist.

"I warned you," said Shabbir, and he picked up the belt and whacked Lewis's bum once more. Lewis squealed but stayed bent over the table, and before the pain even started to wear off he felt the tip of Shabbir's thingy against his bum. Shabbir thrust forward.

"Thtop!" cried Lewis. "That hurtth, Uthy - you're in the wrong plathe!"

"Put me in the right place, then," ordered Shabbir.

"No! I don't want to be ..."

Shabbir stepped back and beat him once more, and again he cried out and clutched at himself.

"Now guide me into the right place, or I'll give you fifty more beats," threatened his master.

Lewis reached behind himself, took hold of Shabbir's penis, which was slippery with lubricant, and guided the tip into position against his hole.

"There," he said, letting go.

Shabbir shoved forward, and this time it slipped inside, making them both cry out. Steadily Shabbir pressed forward until it was as far in as it would go. To him it felt amazing: hot, tight and truly exciting. And Lewis found that although it hurt a bit, it was nothing like as bad as he had feared. To see what would happen he squeezed his muscles tight, and Shabbir cried out.

"That's brilliant, Sim!" he exclaimed. "Keep doing that!"

So Lewis alternately tightened and relaxed the muscles in his bum, and Shabbir rocked back and forward in time with him, feeling absolutely brilliant. Very soon indeed he felt that he was getting close to the wonderful feeling he had experienced in Lewis's mouth the previous day, but this was even better: the physical experience was even more thrilling, as the whole of his penis was stimulated at the same time, and the emotional feeling of domination was also far greater - now he was taking away his slave's boyhood for ever and making him into a girl. Unable to resist the mounting stimulus he reached orgasm, thrusting hard against Lewis's bum and digging his nails into his partner's hips at the same time.

Lewis kept moving against him until he was ordered to stop. From his point of view it felt strange: Shabbir's erection was not really big enough yet to provide more than an intermittent stimulus to Lewis's prostate, so most of the pleasure Lewis experienced was emotional, rather than physical, although once over the initial pain he did like the feeling of Shabbir being inside him. But the realisation of what was being done to him, and how it changed permanently what and who he was, made him really excited. Again, he couldn't have begun to explain why: he just knew that it was absolutely right for Shabbir to dominate him and to do whatever he wanted to him, and he knew that what he wanted more than anythying else in the world was to everything he could to give Shabbir pleasure. So when Shabbir pulled out he stayed in position until he was told he could move, and then he dropped to his knees in front of his master, who had cleaned himself off and was now doing up his shorts.

"Pleathe, Uthy," he begged, "don't tell the otherth I'm a girl now. I thwear I'll be good and do whatever you tell me, ath long ath the otherth don't find out what you've done to me."

"I can tell whoever I want," said Shabbir, enjoying himself. "Maybe I'll make you come to school dressed as a girl and then make you tell the whole form why."

"Oh, don't, pleathe," begged Lewis, though his erection twitched with excitement at the thought of how funny that would look to the other boys in his class.

"You'd better not annoy me, then, had you?"

"I won't, I thwear."

"Good. Okay, you can get dressed now."

Reluctantly Lewis put his clothes back on, once again having trouble getting his shorts to do up over his straining erection.

"Can you imagine what it would feel like if I made you wear tight girls knickers instead of pants?" asked Shabbir, staring at his bulging shorts. "It would kill you - it'd be crushed flat."

Lewis giggled and put his blazer back on, and they headed for the stairs.

"You're not really going to tell anyone, are you?" he asked.

"Don't be stupid. Like you said yesterday, this is our private game. I know the rules say I could make you bend over for me in the form room if I wanted, or tell the whole school, even, but obviously I won't. I promise I won't tell anyone about what we do together unless you're really, really disobedient, and then I'll give you plenty of warning before I actually tell anyone – and even then I still won't tell unless you agree to it, okay?"

"Okay. Thankth, Uthy."

Shabbir gave him a quick hug. "You might be a rude, disobedient little girl who deserves to have me put it in you every day - which I might, anyway - but you're still my best friend. I'm allowed to laugh at you, but nobody else is - or not yet, anyway. Fair?"

"Fair," Lewis agreed.


Well, now that Michael and Carlington know how bad a state Truscott was in, maybe they'll ease back on him a bit – or maybe not. We'll have to wait and see. As for Lewis, he seems to be revelling in being on the receiving end: I suppose it takes all sorts... Anyway, the relationship between Shabbir and Lewis is still developing, but the next chapter will concentrate on two other relationships that are already established.

You know the address – gothmog@nyms.net. Feel free, etc, etc.

Copyright April 2007 – all rights reserved. Please do not reprint, repost or otherwise reproduce this or any part thereof anywhere without my written permission.