Date: Tue, 7 May 2013 14:25:11 +1200
From: bob charles <pennywise3636@gmail.com>
Subject: Washed Up (Gay / Young friends) chapter 1

Washed Up

Disclaimer:

Warning: this story contains sexual content, contact between young boys,
and other themes that may offend.  If the subject matter offends you, is
not to your tastes, or if you are under legal age for your area, then find
something else to read. In the following story all names and events are
completely fictional.  Although I may mention a specific location, place,
or person any resemblance to said people, location, or places is completely
unintentional.

Authors note:

I have used (***) to indicate a change of time and/or place. This story is
a bit more complex to start with changing between the past and the present,
and also between different places. So I felt it was necessary to make a
clear distinction for when things change. Enjoy!

Chapter 1:

Drifting somewhere out in the Pacific Ocean is a rather nice looking yacht
which has a man of about 40 years skippering it. He has his son with him, a
boy of about 11 years old, as they cruise around the world in the boat. The
yacht is a pearl white colour, and measures about 25m in length. It is a
mono hull and built from aluminium. It has two sets of sails, but is fully
automated making it possible to sail it with only two people on board. It
also has a caterpillar 3412 outboard motor on it, which produces 1400HP.

It is a luxury yacht so has all the comforts of a small house. There is a
large master cabin, with king sized bed. Also a smaller cabin which could
still fit a queen sized bed with space around it, but it only has a double
in there, as the owner wanted to cut costs down a little. It has a decent
sized lounge with a two seated couch, and a Lazy boy armchair. Of course
with being on a yacht all the furnishings are securely bolted down, to try
to prevent them moving during heavy seas. There is also a decent sized
galley kitchen, as well as a proper bathroom with all the features. The
interior has a modern design, but most of the walls are covered in a
mahogany wood panelling.

The yacht has been adrift for five days. It had been on its way to
Brisbane, Australia, when it got swamped by a huge rouge wave. The wave had
flooded the wheelhouse, and the saltwater got into all the electronics
shorting them out. It had also snapped the mainsail in half, and ripped the
smaller sail, destroying any hopes of doing any controlled sailing. There
is nothing the occupants can do, but drift helplessly with the swells and
currents. They have enough gas in the fuel tanks to get them to land, but
they didn't know what their exact coordinates are, so have decided that it
is best to save their fuel until they know exactly where they are going.

The father had been in the wheelhouse when the rogue wave hit, but he had
left the door wide open as he never saw it coming. He is extremely lucky
that he wasn't washed overboard by it. But it had knocked him out, and
scared the shit out of his son. He was out cold for a good six hours before
his son managed to bring him to. By then they had drifted a long way, and
that is why the man couldn't get an exact positioning. He was out cold when
he needed to be taking the final coordinates.

They have no radio contact with shore or with other boats, as the radio has
also been killed from the wave. The GPS is also dead, shorted out from
water in the electronics. So the only navigation equipment that they still
have left is one lone compass, and a whole lot of charts which have been
drenched from the water, but have since dried out. It means that the charts
are all faded, and the paper is all wrinkled up.

A solid man standing about 6'3" and weighing close to 90kg is trying to
plot where he thinks they are on the local chart. He isn't exactly sure as
to whether he is anywhere near their actual position, because he didn't
know the exact position they were in when the wave struck. He is getting
all frustrated because according to his calculations they are now drifting
somewhere off the Northeast coast of New Zealand. He can't believe it, as
it means that they have drifted a long way off course.

He is hoping that they will see another boat to be able to flag down, as he
needs reliable information about their exact position in the ocean. He is
also hoping that the people on board the other boat will be able to call
out for some assistance on their behalf, so that they could get to
port. Once back in port he plans to get the yacht fixed. Money isn't of any
concern, so he can get it done quickly and properly. While he is in the
wheelhouse trying to figure out where they are, his son is trying to make
the most of the situation, by sunbathing up on the top deck.

It is a glorious mid-late January day. The temperature is a humid 24 C (75
F), and the intense sun is beaming down from the sky. The sky is a light
blue, with just a light smattering of altocumulus clouds here and
there. There is just a light breeze coming at them from the Northeast. The
water is calm with only a small swell running, which makes for pleasant
sailing conditions. It is just a pity that they aren't actually sailing, as
they are still drifting with the currents. But at least the weather is
still in their favour.

The brown haired boy is lying shirtless on a lounger up on the sundeck. He
has on some blue and white checked board shorts, but nothing else. He is
enjoying just lying there, without a care in the world. Normally he would
be sunbathing naked, but since they should have been in port three days ago
they have presumed that a search has been launched for them. So just encase
a helicopter or another ship finds them, he has decided it best to protect
his modesty and wear his shorts.

The sun is beating down on him, adding to his already dark Mediterranean
Tan. He can feel the intense UV levels burning him through the ferocity of
the sun, so he has lathered himself up with sunscreen. He has heard that
the UV levels are a lot more intense down here, so they have made sure that
they have come prepared.

As the day wore on the swell gradually became significantly larger. The
wind is really starting to get up, causing a lot more surface chop on the
water. The clouds to the north are starting to thicken. There are tall
cumulonimbus clouds starting to form out on the horizon. The air seems to
be getting thicker, as the humidity levels are skyrocketing. Something bad
is brewing, but neither the father nor the son quite realise it.

As the sun starts to set out to the west it produces an awesome scene. It
lights up the underside of the now threatening looking clouds, giving a red
and orange colour to them. The wind is really starting to get strong, and
the first drops of rain can now be felt splattering on the surface. They
are really heavy drops of water, but at this stage still few and far
between. The sky is suddenly lit up by a tremendous flash of lightning. The
boy has now decided it is time to get inside, so he pulls on a plain blue
tee shirt and heads downstairs to the cabin.

Thankfully they still have all the electrical equipment working in the rest
of the yacht, as it was only the wheelhouse that had got swamped by the
wave. The boy flicked on the satellite TV and starts to flick through the
channels to find something interesting to watch.

The weather quickly turns really nasty as the storm bears down on them from
the north. The winds quickly pick up to storm strength, well in excess of
70 knots. The rain is torrential. If it had still been the middle of the
day, then you still wouldn't be able to see a couple of feet in front of
you, the rain is that heavy. Lightning is lighting up the sky from every
direction, and the rolling claps of thunder are continuous. It is extremely
loud, as it can still be heard over the waterfall of torrential rain. The
yacht is getting thrown about like it is a toy in a bathtub. Inside you can
hear the structure of the yacht creaking and groaning under the strain
placed on it by the violent swells, and vicious winds. The father is
becoming quite worried, as he is unsure as to whether the crippled ship
will stay in one piece, given the enormous pressures getting exerted
against the hull.

Before the yacht succumbs to the storm and breaks up, the wind suddenly
stops and the clouds clear. The stars are twinkling away again as the
clouds clear leaving a crisp black sky overhead. It has gone totally
calm. It is almost too calm, as the whole situation has an eerie sort of
silence to it. The father got out of the cabin and up onto the deck to
survey the damage. The storm has snapped off the second mast like it was a
matchstick. Everything that had been on the deck has now been wiped off,
leaving the deck completely bare of all furnishings. All the windows in the
wheelhouse are smashed and broken from the sheer strength of the winds. The
topside looks like sheer havoc has been reaped upon it.

The father has never seen a storm with as much intensity, as the one they
had just experienced. He has seen some bad storms, but nothing on the level
of this one. He has sailed the Mediterranean for many years and has never
seen such a storm. He has also never experienced such heavy swells as the
ones still pounding the yacht. The swell has to be at least 20 foot. The
yacht is bobbing up and down in the swells like it is a cork. It is making
the boy who is still down in the cabin, feel very seasick.

Before the father had a chance to go back down below, the winds suddenly
kicked up again with terrifying abruptness. They are now coming from the
Southwest but just as strong as the ones they had just escaped from. The
rain is also back, and with the driving wind it makes it impossible for the
father to see and find his way back to the stairs. The yacht is again at
the mercy of the sea.

A huge wave suddenly crashes onto the deck, sweeping the father along with
it. He tries desperately to hold on to the railing as the wave threatens to
sweep him overboard. He has successfully managed to hold on, as the last of
the saltwater washes over the deck and back into the angry sea from which
it came. He is trying to pull himself back onto the deck, battling against
the wind. His son has come up to try to find him. After a frantic search,
he saw his father desperately clinging onto the railing as he hangs
precariously over the edge. He quickly runs over to help his dad.

The father suddenly has an expression of sheer terror sweep over his face,
as his son tries his best to hoist him back onto the yacht. The boy seeing
the sudden change of expression on his father's face quickly turns around
to see what his father was looking at. A monstrous wave is towering
perilously overhead, threatening to come crashing down on the yacht at any
moment. The father yells desperately. He is trying to be heard over the
howling wind, driving rain and the rolling claps of thunder. He yells to
his son to save himself. The boy turns back around to look at his
father. His expression becomes one of sheer horror, as he watches his dad
let go of the railing and get swallowed up by the angry sea.

The boy starts to panic, but somehow manages to keep his head about him. He
rushes to find some cover as the wave comes crashing down. He manages to
make it into the wheelhouse, as the wave crashes straight onto the deck. He
clings onto the wheel, as the swirling torrent of water tries to rip him
free and drag him into the ocean. The current was extremely strong, and the
boy is using every ounce of strength he has to hold on. He can feel the
immense surge of water ripping his shorts straight off his body, but can do
nothing in order to save them without putting himself at risk.

The yacht is groaning under the tremendous strain. It is doing its best to
withstand the enormous pressure that the storm is putting it under. All the
noise from the storm suddenly became insignificant as the boy hears a
colossal cracking sound. The sound is unmistakeable, and makes all the
other noises pale in significance. The pressure is too much for the yacht,
and it is breaking up and fast.

The boy doesn't know what to do. He knows that he can't stay where he is,
because when the yacht goes down it would drag him with it. But the ocean
is too menacing to survive very long without a lifejacket. He can't get to
the lifejackets, as they are all now floating out in the ocean
somewhere. The first wave that had crashed onto the yacht during the storm
has swept them overboard, along with everything else that had been on the
deck.

He does a quick search of the deck to see if there is anything left that he
could use for floatation. There is nothing. The bow and stern are both now
rising simultaneously out the water, as the middle starts to sink. The boy
has no time left to try to find something, as the deck underneath him is
becoming far too unstable and quickly sinking. He is also all out of
options. So he runs to the railing, and leaps off the side. The angry sea
swallows him up instantly.

The boy manages to swim back to the surface, and watches on in horror as
the yacht sinks just meters away from him. It is making the most horrible
screeching and groaning noises as it gets sucked under the waves, and
dragged down to the depths of the ocean. Suddenly there are objects
springing back to the surface all around him. He searches through the
flotsam trying to find something suitable to float on. He locates a blue
chilly bin with a white lid, and decides that it will do the job. So he
swims as quickly as he can over to it, and tries to drape his body over it
enough that it will support him in the heavy chop and swells the ocean is
throwing at him.

The boy is extremely tired now, as it has taken a lot of effort to save
himself. He half lay on the chilly bin as the waves pitches him all
around. The waves are doing their best to try to throw the boy off, but the
boy is desperate to defy the odds, as he clings to it for dear life. After
what seems like forever the wind starts to drop, and the rain eases. The
sea also seems to calm down as the chop eases and the swell settles.

He can see the sun starting to rise in the east, casting a warm orange glow
in the sky. The clouds are starting to disperse, as the rain has now
stopped. The wind has died and is now just a light breeze. It should have
been warm, but the boy is starting to shiver and feels cold. He thinks that
he can make out some land just to the west, but thinks that it is just his
mind playing tricks on him. He is really struggling to keep his balance on
the chilly bin, and all he wants to do is close his eyes and sleep.

He is too tired now, and his eyes are refusing to stay open. He slips off
the chilly bin, which causes him to wake up in a panic. He quickly grabs
hold of the chilly bin again, but doesn't have the strength to hoist his
body back up into the same position as he was before. He just holds on for
dear life. It is hopeless, as he just can't keep his eyes open. He is
constantly trying to keep a hold of the chilly bin every time that he feels
that he is slipping. With each slip it wakes his mind with a start, but it
is only short lived before he starts to go to sleep again. Then it
happened, he slips off the chilly bin, but doesn't wake up. He quickly
sinks below the surface of the water.

***

Halfway around the world, a boy suddenly wakes from a deep slumber gasping
for air. He is shaking uncontrollably. His body is soaked in sweat, even
though the temperature is still pretty cold. He is scared shitless, and is
now bawling his eyes out as a result. Why did he suddenly start having
these nightmares? He didn't understand it. They have started all of a
sudden. He curls himself up into the foetal position, as he tries to
comfort himself.

He stays like that for ages, as he contemplates what will potentially
happen if he doesn't wake up to take a breath of air. He shivers at the
thought. He isn't sure, but he thinks that he will probably die if he
didn't wake for air. It is a scary thought, so he tries to concentrate on
something nicer. His mind just won't cooperate with him. He eventually
cries himself back to sleep, wishing for these horrible nightmares to come
to an end.

***

I am over everything. I can't believe how shit my life is. The government
has failed me. The people who are supposed to protect me have failed. I am
just totally disillusioned with society in general. I mean even my own
parents have failed me. I blame my mum for the way that I am feeling. She
should have known. She should have put up more of a fight. And now we have
to move again. I hate it. I hate her. Why couldn't I just have a normal
childhood like every other kid?

I am rummaging through my stuff trying to decide what I think is important
enough to take with me. I'm going through the drawers in my desk, when I
spy a newspaper article buried in there, and pull it out. I then sit on my
bed and read it. It is from the local times, and it reminds me of better
days. I burst out crying remembering the events from that day. That day has
changed my life forever.

A spiky haired blonde boy pokes his head in the door. It is my 9 year old
brother. He sees me crying and comes in. He sits on the bed next to me. He
quickly looks at what I have in my hand and reads it. He then hugs me, as
he tries to comfort me as best as he can. There are tears also rolling from
his eyes and down his cheeks. He feels as sad as I do.

"I know you miss him. I really miss him too." He says to me. He is so sweet
and tender at moments like this, and I really love him for it. I hug him
back as I nod my head. I then bury my head onto his shoulders and cry some
more. He just sits there hugging me. Seeing that I'm not calming down as
quickly as he would have liked, he starts stroking my back. It takes a
while but I finally regain control of my emotions.

"Mum wants me, to tell you to hurry up, as we have to leave soon." My
brother tells me. His voice is sweet and friendly, as he tries his best not
to inflame the situation. He knows how I feel about mum at times, so tries
to keep the peace as best as he can. Unfortunately for him he doesn't
succeed overly frequently.

`Fuck her. I will get ready in my own time.' I think to myself. I don't
want to upset my brother, so I keep my mouth shut. I don't say anything
until I feel that I am under control of my emotions. The last thing that I
want to do is upset my little brother. He means the world to me, and I will
do anything to protect him.

"Tell her that I will be ready soon, please Callum." I say to my
brother. My voice is a little shaky as I am still really pissed off with
her. Callum seeing that I am coping again releases me from his hug. He then
gets up and quietly leaves the room to tell mum. I know that he will do
everything that he can possibly do, to make sure that mum doen't come in
and annoy me. So I take my time as I gather up what I want to take.

I step in front of the mirror in my room, just before I head out to the
car. I look at the boy in the reflection. I am 12 years old. I stand at
4'9" tall, and weigh 42kg. In other words I am about average for a boy my
age. My hair is a wavy golden blonde. I have grown it down to my shoulders,
as it creates that classic surfie look, which is why I did it. I have blue
eyes which people have told me look sad and depressed. I have a short flat
nose with a smattering of light blonde freckles on it, and on my cheeks. My
nose has a strange looking ridge on it, due to it having been broken a
couple of times. I have averagely thick lips, which are a dull red colour.

I have a nice golden tan over the exposed parts of my body. I am currently
wearing a light blue tee shirt, with a surfing graphics design on it. My
black board shorts have white stripes going down the sides of them, and
they cover everything from just below my navel down to just below my
knees. Given that it is summer I have jandals on my feet, as it's too hot
and humid to wear shoes and socks. My bare arms and legs have very light
blonde boy hairs on them, not because I've started puberty, I don't really
know what that is. I have had them as long as I can remember. They are only
really visible in the right sort of light, but they are there.

I take one last look in the mirror, wondering what such a cute boy has done
to deserve what I have been through. The one good thing that I see is that
most of the physical scars have long since vanished. It was only the
psychological ones that remain. Then I gather up my stuff and head out of
my bedroom for the last time. I wander through the rest of our small cosy
house and out the front door. Mum and Callum are waiting for me in the
car. The car is a relatively new Mitsubishi Lancer, a four door sedan. It
is a metallic blue colour, but is pretty dirty due to not having been
washed for ages. I hop in the backseat beside my brother, and close the
door behind me.

"What took you so long?" Mum asks with an annoyed tone of voice. I really
wish that she could just keep her mouth shut sometimes. I really am not in
the mood for her shit. I'm not in the mood for anything.

"Get fucked. I had stuff to do." I reply angrily. If she says anymore to me
then I will probably just get out of the car and walk as far away as I
can. I can't be bothered with her shit at the moment. It's her fault that
I'm in the mood that I am, anyway.

She took my hint and doesn't say another word to me. She just starts up the
car, and puts it into gear. She then backs out the driveway, before
changing gears again and taking off down the main road. We pass through
town and then up the long windy road towards the highway. All I know is
that we are moving somewhere further south but mum hasn't told me where. I
just look out of the window in a daze, watching the scenery pass us by. I
start to recall all the events that have led to this day.

***

It's been a long night. I haven't got much sleep due to the high humidity,
and warm night time temperatures. I don't usually get much sleep anyway. It
is blowing a gale, and I can hear the wind whistling through the gaps in
the house. The rains been really heavy all night too, as a tropical cyclone
just sideswipes us. Thankfully it hadn't hit us directly, as due to the
extremely warm waters around the coast at the moment, the cyclone is still
a category three storm. As it is, it creates mass destruction and flooding
further south in the Coromandel and Bay of Plenty regions.

I don't know how, but Callum has slept like an angel all night, totally
oblivious to the raging storm outside. It is probably about four in the
morning before the winds abate, and the rain eases. The next thing I know,
the early morning sun is forming a bluish tone in our room as it shines
through the thin flimsy blue curtains which are covering our windows. I
decide to get up at this stage, as I know that there is no point in trying
to get anymore sleep.

So I roll over and drape my legs over the edge of my single bed and I then
hop out of bed. I pick up the flimsy blue summer's sheet off the floor,
where I had discarded it last night due to the heat. All I am wearing are
my thin blue summer pyjama shorts. I gather up a change of clothes from my
drawers, and head to the bathroom to take a shower. I quickly shower and
get changed. I put on some yellow board shorts that have a white stripe
down the sides, and pull on a white printed tee shirt. I head out the ranch
slider at the back of the house, and wander over the small back lawn. Then
I climb the tussock covered sand dunes at the back of the property till I
get to my own personal lookout over the beach.

From the top of the dunes I look out over the horseshoe shaped bay. The
golden sands are messy looking this morning, as a lot of driftwood and
seaweed have been washed up from the storm. The sky still has a menacing
look to it, as the tall cumulonimbus clouds are slow to dissipate after the
passing storm. There are enough clear patches in the sky to let me know
that the worst of storm is over. It produces magical looking beams of light
as the sun finds gaps in the clouds to shine through. The wind is light and
from the southwest, which I am glad about.

The sea has a brownish tinge to it, as the huge swells have stirred up the
silt and sand from the seabed. The waves are huge, as they are breaking at
a good 10 feet in size. The wind being from the southwest has groomed them
to perfection, so the waves are looking absolutely amazing. They have a
nice A frame shape to them, and they are tubing hard. The waves are walling
up nicely, so there is plenty to do on the wave other than just riding in
the tube. In-between peaks I can see large rips running back out to sea, as
the huge volume of water from the waves has to find some way to get back
out. That is even better, I think, as it allows me easy access to the
waves. It will save a long and arduous paddle.

I quickly turn around and head back down the dunes home. I am actually
looking forward to doing something, which has been a rarity for me for a
long time. Surfing is really the only thing in my life that I enjoy and
makes me happy, but living on the northeast coast I haven't been able to do
enough of it. The swells here can be few and far between. That means that
when the coast finally sees some swell you'd better make sure to enjoy it,
because it can be a while before the next swell comes through.

I get home, and Callum is waiting at the door for me. His spikey golden
blonde hair is a mess from him having only just woken up, but it makes him
look really cute. He is 3'8" tall, and weighs 38kg. He has a thin nose
which is quite short and stubby. His lips are quite thin as well, and are a
dull red colour. It's his eyes that make up who he is. His eyes are blue,
just like mine, but they sparkle with his youthfulness and the excitement,
which he feels each and every day. He looks happy all the time, and that is
because most of the time he is.

He is standing in the doorway, still dressed in his PJs. They are the short
summer pyjamas which only really cover up what the need to. They are white
with pictures from the cars animated film all over them. They really showed
off his nice tanned legs, arms and face. His arms and legs are completely
hairless, unlike mine, he doesn't even have those little boy hairs. He is a
little on the skinny side, but through surfing with me all the time, his
muscles are pretty big for someone his age, and are well defined. He looks
like he is bubbling with excitement, as he knows where I have come from.

"What's the surf like? Is it any good?" Callum asks me, as I approached the
door. His voice has a real high pitch to it, but it makes him sound
cute. He is struggling to control his excitement, as he is really looking
forward to having a surf with me again. Being with me is what makes him so
happy, so everything that I do, he usually does too.

"Its 10 foot and pumping!" I exclaim unable to control my excitement. His
expression quickly turns from one of excitement, to one of complete
disappointment. He isn't comfortable with the big surf that I like. So he
knows that he won't be going out with me today, unless the swell drops
significantly throughout the day. Then he may be able to persuade me to
have another surf.

"Ow man. That's too big for me. Go ahead I will watch from the beach."
Callum says with obvious disappointment in his voice. I just nod my head. I
know that he won't want to come out in waves that big, but I am glad that
he is still going to watch from the beach. I feel sorry for him though, as
I do enjoy having the little bugger out with me. I really love having my
little brother around. He is the only thing, other than surfing, which
keeps me sane.

He turns around slowly and heads back inside to get changed into some
clothes. I head towards the garage at the side of the house to grab my
gear. I have had one huge advantage over my brother which allows me to be
able to surf in big waves like these. When I first learnt how to surf we
were living in Auckland, so we would head over to Piha all the time. Having
spent so much time surfing on Auckland's wild west coast, I quickly got
used to surfing big waves. Callum was too young when I started, and by the
time he was really getting into surfing we had moved here.

I find the bin containing our wetsuits and surfing gear. I rummage through
it until I find my rash shirt. I pull my tee shirt over my head, and drop
it on the ground at my feet. Then I pull on my rash shirt and head over to
the board rack. I searched through our collection of surfboards till I find
one that is going to be suitable for today. I pull it off the rack and
check over it. It is a 6'8" thruster short board made by some South African
company. It has a picture of some scantily clad woman on the bottom. Now
that I am ready, I head back to the beach.

I climb over the dunes, and run down the other side all the way to the
water's edge. I put on my leg rope making sure that it is tight, so that it
doesn't come off under the huge strain these waves will put it under. I
also make a quick inspection of it to ensure that there were no nicks or
cracks in it. The last thing I want in surf this big is for the leg rope to
snap on me, as it will result in a long arduous swim back to the
beach. Once satisfied I start to wade out into the warm water, all I have
on is my boardies and a rash shirt due to how warm the water is.

I use a fast flowing rip to carry me out behind the breakers. It makes life
really easy going, as I really don't have to paddle at all initially. I am
now paddling on an angle so that I stay just outside the line of
white-water. Once I am happy that the rip has carried me far enough out, so
that I am behind the breakers, I start to paddle sideways to get out of the
rip. I keep paddling till I get to where the waves are peaking up, and then
I wait for the bigger set to come through.

The volume of water which is moving in surf this big is enormous, it almost
looks like the thickest wall that you have ever seen, but made entirely of
water. In order to look out to sea to watch for the next set you have to be
on the crest of the swell. When you are in the trough all you can see is a
huge wall of water barrelling towards you. It grows phenomenally as the
swell hits the shallow sand banks, as this causes the bottom of the wave to
slow down while the top still tries to travel at the same rate. It is
extremely intimidating if you are not used to being out in big waves like
these. It also really makes you feel like an insignificant speck in the
scheme of things. But it is also one of the most peaceful experiences that
I have found. Just bobbing up and down as the waves pass under you, and
hearing the water cracking as the waves break is just so serene.

Another big advantage I have over Callum is that I really don't value my
life. In saying that, I have surfed bigger waves at Piha, but nothing that
has been this big and clean at the same time. The beach also has a sand
bottom which takes away any real risk of getting knocked out from hitting a
submerged rock. So I'm not really in too much danger, as I am a good
swimmer too, which makes things safer again. It might have been a different
story if I was surfing the point at the headland at the southern end of the
beach. There are a lot more rocks around there, so a lot more risk. But I
want the choice to go both left and right, so surfing the right-hand point
break is out of the question.

Even if Callum had wanted to come out for a surf today I wouldn't have let
him. I suppose I'm a little too protective of him at times, so I will not
let him do anything that I feel could end up with him getting hurt. There
was never any risk of him coming out today though, as I know the waves are
far too big for him to even consider going for a surf. But if on the off
chance he decided that he wants to come out, I was fully prepared to
convince him not to. It wouldn't have taken much because he listens to me,
especially if I think that he may get hurt. There is nothing that I won't
do to protect my little bro, and he really is the only reason I am still
here today.

I see the set coming so I turn around to face the beach, whilst lying down
on my board. I am looking over my shoulder, watching the wave come roaring
in. I am just waiting for the right time to start paddling. The time is
right and I start to paddle for the wave. I am paddling as fast as I can. I
feel the wave starting to pick me up, as it tries to roll underneath me. I
paddle frantically hoping that I can still get into the wave. I am climbing
so high on the wave that I am really starting to think that I am going to
lose it, and then I finally feel the board snag as the wave starts to curl
over.

I quickly spring to my feet, and take the drop. The waves are pretty steep,
giving me a huge drop on take-off. But I successfully land it. A huge dark
shadow suddenly falls over me, as the lip of the wave falls, engulfing me
deep in the tube of the wave. What an unreal feeling it is being swallowed
up in such a huge tube. I could literally jump as high as I can and still
not touch the top of the tube. Even if I was 7 feet tall, I think that I
could still jump and not touch the top of the wave. The tube is so big it
really feels like a big empty cavern. It is collapsing in on itself behind
me, but I have enough speed up to outrun it and not get crushed. All too
soon I have escaped the tube and into clear air, riding along the face of
the wave. I pull off some wicked turns, before finally ditching the wave as
it dies into the rip. I am back in the rip having a lazy ride back out, as
I am letting the rip do all the work for me.

I am stoked to say the least. It is by far the best wave that I have ever
had in my life. Looking back towards the beach, I can just make out a tiny
speck jumping up and down with excitement. Callum has made it to the beach,
and has watched me catch the wave. He is stoked for me too. I didn't have
long to wait for another wave. With each wave that I catch, I become more
and more confident in the big stuff again. I am getting deeper and deeper
into the tubes. To the extent that if I get any deeper I will get crushed
as the wave collapses on top of me. It is a real adrenalin rush, especially
feeling the rush of air, blast past me as it looks for and escape route
from the tube. After about half a dozen waves I am paddling back out the
back with the assistance from the rip, when I think I have seen something
unusual bobbing away behind the breakers.

I wait until I get out of the trough, and crest the next huge wave and look
out again. There is definitely something strange out there. I stay with the
rip letting it take me closer to the object that is bobbing away in the
swell. I am getting a little frustrated as I try to work out what it
is. The swell does not help things one bit. It takes a long time to go from
the crest of one wave, to the crest of the next. When in the trough all you
can see is the next wave barrelling towards you. You can't see anything
past it, just a wall of water. By the time I crest the next wave, I am
finally close enough to sort of work out what the object is.

It looks like a person, who is draped over something. They are still a long
way from me, and I am now past the outer limits of the rip. I am going to
have to paddle the rest of the way. By the time I crest the next wave, all
I see is a box. It looks like it might be a chilly bin. I can't see the
person. Suddenly an arm reaches from the water and takes a hold of the bin
again. But the person doesn't have the strength to pull themselves back
up. I know that the situation is dire, and that I will have to act fast.

I paddle harder, drawing on all my experience from when I was a junior
lifeguard. I am almost at the person, when I see them lose their grip on
the chilly bin one last time. This time they don't come back up. I calm
myself and roll off my board the instant I am at the chilly bin. I can just
see a head submerged a couple of meters below the surface, but it is still
slowly sinking. I dive down towards the body. I can't see a thing, as I
have to close my eyes to stop the salt water from stinging them. I grope
around when I think I am deep enough trying to grab hold of something.

I grab a hold of something, but get a massive jolt of electricity. I
quickly let go, and resurface in a slight panic and gasping for air. What
the hell was that? I'm pretty sure that we don't have electric eels in New
Zealand, and even if we did aren't they freshwater creature? It sort of
shows how little I know about native marine life, but if it wasn't a fish
then I really don't care.

I quickly recompose myself and dive back down. I grope around again for the
body. I find it again, taking hold of an arm. I again get a shock, but
manage to keep hold of the body this time, and pull it to the surface.

Once I have resurfaced, I pull on my leg rope, getting my board to come
back to me. Once I have my board back within reach, I lay the body down on
it. I am shocked when I see who I have rescued, as it is a boy about my
age. What shocks me even more is that his blue shirt is hardly clinging to
him, as it is ripped to shreds. He also has no pants on. He isn't in a good
way, so I know that I have to get him to shore as quickly as possible.

It is going to be extremely difficult, as I don't have the right gear to
perform a rescue in surf this big. I really could do with an inflatable
rescue boat or IRB for short. But this beach is unpatrolled, and even if it
was patrolled it is still too early for the lifeguards to be on duty. I
pull myself on the board right behind the boy. Then I paddle as hard as I
can back towards the beach. I also paddle on a slight angle and head more
towards the northern end of the beach.

Once I am close enough to the breakers I stop temporarily to assess the
situation. I need to find the best way back into the shore. I can see that
the whole beach is breaking about the same size, so there is no point in
paddling further towards the more sheltered northern end. I also have to
watch out for rips, as they are great for getting out behind the
breakers. But they are impossible to swim against to get back in. My only
option is to go straight in from where I am.

I have a brief lull in the bigger sets, so I again paddle as hard as I
can. I need to get as far into shore as I can before the next big set comes
in. I am using as much momentum as I can from the swells that are passing
underneath me to get as far as I can, before the wave passes entirely
underneath me. I get to the point where the smaller waves are breaking, but
they are still a good 7-8 foot so too dangerous to take on given I am
trying to perform a rescue. So I now have to wait until a bigger set breaks
behind me. I can then use the white-water to take me into shore.

The wait is agonizing, as the bigger set never seems to come. I suddenly
hear what I am waiting for, about 100 meters further out a bigger wave has
finally come in and broken. I paddle hard again, knowing that I am not
going to get caught up in a breaking smaller wave. I have to get as much
speed as I can, so that the impact from the white-water doesn't knock us
off the board. I succeed, and then I have to hold onto the board for dear
life as we were hurtled towards the beach. I keep the board stable enough
that the boy isn't in any risk of slipping off. Before I know it we grind
to a halt, as the board digs into the sand. Callum is running as fast as he
can over to me.

"Callum, run home and call for an ambulance. When you come back grab a
blanket." I yell to my brother, as I gasp for air. He quickly turns back
around and sprints off back home. I have made him grab a blanket because I
think that the boy might also be suffering from hypothermia. If I can bring
him back to life, that is, but I think it is best to cover all bases.

I quickly drag the limp and lifeless body further up the beach. I need to
get him as far from the water as possible, to avoid the risk of a monster
wave washing us back out into the ocean. I have released my leg rope, and
left the board where it was when we came in. I have the boy on his back,
and do a quick check to see if he is breathing. He isn't. He has no colour
in his face either, and his lips are turning blue through lack of oxygen. I
try to recall what I had been taught about CPR. I have been taught basic
first aid when I was training to be junior lifeguards. I start to pump away
on his chest in a heartbeat rhythm, right in line with where I have located
his heart to be.

"Damn it. What's the ratio?" I say out loud. I am annoyed with myself, as I
can't remember whether it is 20 or 30 compressions to two breaths of
air. Suddenly I remember that it isn't that important, as long as the
compressions are getting done at a regular rhythm. I decide to do a ratio
of 30:2. I am finding it extremely hard to concentrate as I am doing the
compressions, because every time I even lose contact just slightly, I get a
jolt when I come back into contact with him. I am also getting weird
feelings during the compressions. I really can't explain it. It is really
strange and a little scary.

Once I am close to the 30 compressions I start to prep myself for the
breaths. I get to 30, and shuffle up to the boys head. I tilt it back to
unblock the airway, whilst taking in a big breath of air. I then bend over
and put my lips to his, and blow. I get a strange tingling feeling in my
lips when I make contact. It feels really, really nice. `What the hell' I
think to myself. I'm getting turned on by a dead boy. I shake the thoughts
from my head, as I run out of breath. I lift my head back up, and take
another gulp of air before repeating the process. Again I get the same
tingling feelings in my lips, and I am really getting a bit worried about
the strange sensations this boy is still generating.

Halfway through the second breath, the boy starts to cough and sputter. I
stop blowing and sit up. Then I reach across to the boys shoulder, and roll
him towards me. He is now on his side, as his body tries to expel the water
that he has swallowed. I am relieved immensely at seeing him come back to
life. I really can't believe that I have brought someone back to life. I am
over the moon with what I have done. The boy slowly stops coughing and
spluttering, but still looks dazed. He just lies on his side recovering
from his ordeal. I can see the boy slowly coming back, as his deep hazel
eyes start to have some life in them. His face and lips also start to get
their colour back, as oxygen starts to get pumped around his body again.

"Mon papa, oł est mon papa!" The boy suddenly starts to yell. He is in
hysterics, and he is very hard to understand. Let alone the fact that he
was speaking a foreign language. He has a strong accent, it sounds
French. But then again I know little about different accents, let alone
languages. I figure that it must be something about his dad but I'm not
sure. I mean what else could papa mean?

"Do you speak English? You know like from England." I ask him, very slowly
and deliberately. I need him to understand what I am saying, if he can
speak a word of English that is. He looks confused momentarily as he tries
to comprehend what I have just said to him. I have heard the kiwi accent
can be quite hard to understand so I am wondering whether that is what led
to the confusion. I repeat myself very slowly, hoping that the boy will
understand me this time.

"Oui, je parle anglais. Pardon. Sorry, yes I speak English." The boy
replied. He is getting himself confused as he naturally converts back to
his native tongue. His accent is really sexy no matter what language he is
speaking. I now know that it is indeed French, as I think that everyone
knows that `oui' means `yes' in French. He is starting to really shiver
now, so I know he is suffering from hypothermia. I am hoping that Callum
will be back soon with a blanket.

"What were you saying before?" I ask the boy. Again I say it
slowly. Emphasising each word to ensure he understands me. He has been
through so much that I know his mind won't be quite back to normal yet. I
have to be very careful with him. He is still whimpering away, but his
tears seem to have dried up.

"My dad, have you seen my dad?" He says. Now I know what he was yelling
before. I also know how much more dire situation has become now, as it
isn't just a simple rescue. We now have a search on our hands as well. Well
at least the appropriate authorities do, as there is little chance of me
being able to find the boy's dad.

"Where did you last see your dad?" I ask him again slowly and deliberately
to ensure he understands what I am saying. I need to get as much
information as I can out of him, so that I can pass it on to the search and
rescue team. I can now see Callum running back over the sand dunes towards
me.

"Last night. He got swept off our yacht before it sank." The boy
replies. His voice is extremely weak now, and he is struggling to stay
awake. His shivering has got out of control now, as the hypothermia is
taking hold of his young body. I know that I have to keep him awake, at all
costs. That is another thing that I can remember from first aid
training. As I think that he may be suffering from hypothermia, I know that
I cannot let him fall asleep. I can't remember why exactly, only that it is
not a good thing to let happen.

It is quite strange to think that he has hypothermia as the water is really
warm. In fact it is unusually warm for around here. But due to him having
been submerged in it for so long didn't help his cause. Water seems to have
a natural effect of sucking the heat out of your body from you. So that no
matter how warm the water is, if you are in it for long enough you will
eventually succumb to the effects of hypothermia.

"Callum, can you go back home and ring the police? We need search and
rescue out here as the boy's father is somewhere out to sea. Tell them that
he got washed off a yacht, moments before it sank. Did you get a hold of
the ambulance?" I say to my brother, as he arrives back with the blanket. I
quickly take the blanket from him, and wrap it around the boy. I have
ripped off the remains of his shirt before I put the blanket on him. I
don't want his wet clothing to cool him down.

"Yeah, they're sending the helicopter. Should be here soon." Callum replies
to me. He is panting and red in the face from the exertion from so much
running, and he is preparing himself for another run back home. He turns
and again takes off as quickly as he can. I am so proud of the way the
little fellow is handling the situation. I'm not sure that I would have
been, if I was his age. But he seems to be keeping calm and staying level
headed, and for that I am very grateful.

I notice the boy is starting to fall asleep, so I gently shake him back
awake. I talk to him, telling him not to sleep, and generally trying to
comfort him. I also use the chance to look over him properly. He has a
Mediterranean tan. I'm not sure how dark due to his body still trying to
get its colour back. His wavy hair is light brown, and cut at a medium
length. It looks pretty cool, even the way it is matted to his forehead due
to it still being wet. He has a short wide nose, and his nostrils sort of
flare out a bit. He has average thickness, reddish brown coloured lips. I
also notice that there is a barely visible scar on his left cheek. It gives
his face a bit more character. I think that he looks really cute. Well at
least now that he has some of his colour back.

He is now starting to sweat due to the heat and humidity of the day, which
is steadily increasing minute by minute. `Shit' I think to myself. I know
that I can't let him heat up too quickly, otherwise his body could go into
shock, and that will be disastrous. I don't want to move him any further
either, as I don't know whether he has sustained any injuries. I am also
feeling extremely tired now that the adrenalin has worn off, but I know
that I will just have to find a way to keep going. I quickly remove the
blanket hoping that it might help to stop him heating up too quickly. Again
I use the opportunity to look over him, and I'm not disappointed one bit.

He has such a sexy body. He is quite slim, but really quite muscular from
sailing. I learned later on that he did a lot of sailing back in
France. His tan covers all of his sexy body, and no tan line can even be
seen around his midsection. I can tell that he normally must go around
naked, which intrigues me. Mum would kill us if we walked around naked, but
he must be allowed to. I am a little jealous knowing this, as I would
really like to be allowed to go around naked too.

What interests me the most is his package. I don't know why, but I can't
take my eyes off of it. It is thin and about 2 inches to the head of his
prick. I can tell where the head of his dick is, as it seems to balloon out
a lot more than his shaft does. The foreskin is really long, and increases
his length to about 2 ¾ inches. His olive sized balls are contained
nicely in his tight brown nut sack. Well it isn't quite tight, as it looks
like it was in the very early stages of dropping, meaning his ball sack has
a definite sag too it. About what you would expect from an 11 year old.

I am entranced, just gazing at his little prick. I don't know what has come
over me. I'm getting turned on by this boy, what the hell is wrong with me?
I am really confused, and it isn't so much that I am suddenly coming to the
conclusion that I'm gay. No, I have known that I'm gay for a little while
now. But I've never had this sort of reaction from looking at another
boy. Usually I have no problem breaking my glance, and looking away from
another boys prick. But with him, my gaze is fixed. I just can't stop
staring at his sexy little boyhood.

But there is something else too, as I just want to be with him. I really
didn't want to ever have to leave him, which for me is really strange as I
usually don't like being around people, even those whom I have known for
ages. But with him I haven't even really met him, yet I can't bear to be
separated from him. I am really confused.

My concentration is quickly broken when Callum comes running back. Now I
have to take my eyes off the boy's package. I haven't told anyone that I am
gay, and I really don't want my little brother to find out. I am scared
that if I tell him, that he won't look up to me anymore. That will break my
heart, as I really love my little brother. I idolise him in a lot of
ways. He means the world to me, and I don't want to do anything to screw
that up. As far as I'm concerned he is all the family that I have left.

"Mum's calling the cops for me, as I wasn't sure that they would listen to
me. So I told mum what happened so that she could pass it on to the cops."
Callum says, in between pants as he is trying to get his breath back. He is
so level headed at times. I am really impressed with how he is handling the
situation. He is looking a bit flushed and is sweating heavily from all the
exertion, so I reach over and gave him a hug regardless of his sweat soaked
clothing. I am really proud of my little bro.

We both sit there beside the boy, just talking to him. We are trying
desperately to keep him awake. Callum is doing a really good job helping me
comfort the boy. The boy isn't really responding too much, but he is trying
his hardest to keep his eyes open. He has a weak smile on his face, knowing
that he is in good hands. Finally we hear the distinct thud of a helicopter
approaching us from the south. We look around to see it, but it still
hasn't cleared the steep hills at the southern end of the bay, so we wait
in expectation.

Seconds later we finally see the red piece of machinery clear the
hills. The co-pilot must have spotted where we are, because it lands only
about ten meters from us. I have to throw the blanket over the boy to
shield him. Callum and I turn our heads away from where the helicopter is
landing, and shield our eyes. The rotors are blowing a sand storm all
around the place as it lands, so we have to do everything we can to keep
the sand from our eyes and mouth. It is also why I covered the boy with the
blanket again.

The rescue helicopter is a Bell 412, painted red with the logo of the bank
that sponsors it on the side. Its rotors are 46 feet in diameter. The
helicopter is 15 feet high, and the fuselage length measures 43 feet. It is
powered by 2 × Pratt & Whitney PT6T-3BE Twin-Pac turbo shaft
engines. Inside it is fully decked out with a full life support system, as
well as anything else that may be necessary for a rescue. It has four crew
members on board, a pilot and co-pilot, as well as two paramedics.

The sliding door opens, and the two paramedics quickly get out. They carry
a stretcher as they race over to us as quickly as they can. As they get the
boy onto the stretcher, I give them a rundown as to what I know has
happened. I also tell them about what first aid I have applied, and then I
tell them that I think that he is suffering from hypothermia. The
paramedics are really impressed with what I had done and they let me know
it too. I am a little overwhelmed and embarrassed by all the praise, as I
have only done what I had been taught. They told us that he looks like he
is going to be fine. They will be taking him to Kaitaia hospital instead of
Whangarei hospital, as they feel that he is only going to need to be kept
for observation.

They then carry the boy in the stretcher back to the helicopter. The pilot
starts up the engines and winds up the rotors to full revs. We shield our
eyes and mouths again from the sand storm, the downdraft is creating. Then
the helicopter takes off, and once it has reached its cruising altitude it
turns towards the west and flies away. I suddenly feel desperately
lonely. I'm not sure why as Callum is still standing beside me. There is
just something about that boy, and I know that I have to see him again. I
turn and tell Callum that we need to get home, and then I run off trying to
get home as quickly as possible. Callum is surprised to see me in such a
rush, but runs off after me anyway.

"Mum, get your stuff ready as we need to go to Kaitaia hospital right now!"
I yell out, as I crash through the door back into our house. Callum is only
a couple of steps behind. He is really confused as to why I`m like this. He
hasn't seen me care about another human being other than him, for a long
time. He isn't sure why I am so desperate to see this kid again, but
figures that I have just saved his life so that must be the reason. But
even then he is still surprised at my reaction.

"Just wait a minute would you. I've got to..." Mum replies. I am not in the
mood for her bullshit. I just want to go right now. I don't care about
anything else but seeing that boy again.

"Fuck you mum. I'll find my own way then." I interrupted. Callum is now
putting his fingers in his ears. He knows that this was going to be another
horrible argument. He doesn't fully understand what my problem with mum is,
as she seems to be nice enough to me. He doesn't know the full extent of
what I have been through because of that bitch, as I have never told him. I
haven't told anyone, and I don't plan to.

"Will you cut that crap out. We can't go yet because I have to wait for
search and rescue to ring back. They are going to want to talk to you, as
you know more about what has happened than I do." Mum snaps at me. She has
me backed into a corner now, as I now know that I can't argue with her any
more about it. Not if I truly care about the boy. I know that finding the
boys dad is as important as seeing him again. I shut up, and slump into a
seat in the lounge as we wait. Callum takes his fingers from his ears, and
comes over as he sits beside me.

An uneasy and tense silence falls over the room. I am still fuming. Callum
senses my anger and strokes my back trying to get my mood to soften. He
hates it when I'm like this, but will still do anything to try and
help. Guilt is eating away at mum again. She wishes that she could turn
back time and make everything right again. She has failed me, and she knows
it. But there is nothing that she can do about it now, as it is already too
late. If she could, she would have made a couple of different decisions in
her life.

"I'm sorry Josh. I didn't mean to snap at you like I did. But I don't
appreciate you talking to me that way either. I understand that you want to
see how that boy is doing. You saved his life after all." Mum says to me in
a calm soothing tone. She embraces me in a hug. I don't hug her back. I am
still too pissed off. She also doesn't have any idea as to why I want to
see the boy, but I want to keep it that way too. She breaks the hug when
she hears the phone ring.

She rushes over to the phone and answers it. She talks with the person on
the other end for a while. Then she hands the phone to me. The person on
the other end introduces themselves, and tells me they are part of the New
Zealand Search and Rescue team, Northern Division. He says that he wants to
ask me a couple of questions regarding the boy that I have rescued. I
answer them as best I can. I tell him the location to which I saw the boy,
and stated that he was floating on a chilly bin. I don't have a lot of
other information, as I didn't ask the boy too much. He was too weak to
answer too many questions. All I knew was he was in a shipwreck and his dad
had been washed overboard.

I hung up after a couple of minutes. Mum says to me that she is now ready
to go. So we all pile out the door and into the car. Within a couple of
minutes of me hanging up the phone, we are out of town following the windy
road out towards the highway. We arrive in Kaitaia after about an hour and
a halves drive.

I suppose I had better describe my mother. She is 38 years old. She is 5'7"
tall, and weighs 63kg. She gets constant stares when she walks down the
road, due to her slim sexy frame, and nice round perky boobs. During summer
she has a nice golden tan. Her face matches her body. She has seductive
blue eyes. Her nose is long and thin, with a slight point at the end. She
has seductively thin red lips. Her long and wavy blonde hair stretches down
to the bottom of her shoulder blades. The thing that most men find
irresistible about her is the small mole that she has right at the corner
of her mouth, and the right cheek.

Kaitaia is a small town of about 7000 inhabitants. It isn't a particularly
attractive town, but still sees a lot of the tourist trade. It is the
gateway to Ninety Mile Beach, and Cape Reinga the northernmost accessible
point of the country. It is the largest town in the Far North province of
New Zealand. But other than the tourist trade there isn't a lot of other
work here. Northland in general is one of the poorest areas of New Zealand,
and Kaitaia is no different. The town centre has a run-down look to it, and
most of the shops are discount stores, or souvenir shops. There aren't many
shops to cater for the upmarket side, as there isn't enough business to
support it.

The hospital is a sprawl of low rise buildings. It is unattractive, and
looks a real mess with buildings seemingly just put up anywhere they
want. It doesn't look like a lot of planning has been done when it was
built. The buildings are all of weatherboard construction, and the colours
vary from white to light blue, and one of them has been painted a mint
green.

The main reception is in the largest of the buildings which sits in the
centre, close to the main hospital road. There is a big parking lot across
the road from the hospital, but like all hospitals is pretty expensive. We
find a park and get out. Mum locks the car, as Callum and I sprint off
across the road into the hospital reception area.

"Hi. The boy who got airlifted in, can you tell me what room he is staying
in?" I ask the lady behind the reception counter. My voice sounds urgent as
I am bursting to find this kid again. The lady knows who I am talking about
and types away on her computer. When she finally finds the result that she
is looking for she tells me. Mum has finally caught up to us at this stage,
and the lady behind the counter gives her the instructions, as to how to
get to his room. Mum leads us through the maze following the instructions
the receptionist has given her, and eventually stops in front of a nurse's
station.

Mum hit a little bell that is sitting on the desk, and we wait for a nurse
to answer. I can tell by the toys scattered around the lobby which we are
standing in, that this is the children's ward. On one of the walls a giant
mural has been painted. It is of some of the most famous cartoon
characters. There are a couple of kids playing around in the lobby, both of
them must be patients as they are both wearing those hideous green hospital
robes that they make you wear. A nurse finally arrives behind the desk, and
mum asks them about the boy.

"Are you two, the boys' that saved him?" The nurse asks us. She almost
totally ignores mum. We nod our heads in agreement. I don't want to make a
big deal about it. I just did what I felt that I had to do. After all I
have trained as a junior lifeguard. It would have been wrong of me not to
at least try to save the boy.

"Well congratulations. You are heroes. Because of what you both did, the
boy is in really good health. I will let you see him, and I will let the
doctor know that you are here. I know that he wants to meet you too." The
nurse said. Her face is beaming with praise. She is genuine about what she
has said. Callum and I just smile, it is probably the biggest smile that
I've had on my face in a long time. We are glowing with pride. Hey we just
can't help it.

The nurse then led the way through the corridor to the room the boy is
in. All the walls in the hospital are a light blue colour, making the place
feel cool and a little dingy. We arrive at the room and the nurse opens the
door to let us in. The boy is on his bed, but has it set to a sitting
position. The beds in the hospital are adjustable so that you don't have to
be lying down all the time. He saw Callum and I enter the room, and the
biggest smile swept across his face. He is looking a lot better now than
when we last saw him. The nurse closes the door behind us, and went to find
the doctor.

"Merci. Sorry. Thank you so much for saving my life." The boy says as we
enter the room. He is talking a lot more fluently now. His accent is still
sexy as, in fact even more sexy now he is talking properly again. He still
seems to be struggling with coming to grips with what language he should be
speaking though.

"It's alright. We are just glad to see that you are alright." I reply to
the boy. Callum and I both have big smiles on our face seeing the boy
looking so healthy again. Neither of us had expected to see such a quick
recovery. In fact we were expecting to see him connected to drips, as well
as other monitoring equipment. But he isn't hooked up to anything.

"My name is Josh Smith. This is my brother Callum, and our mum. What's your
name?" I decide now that he is alright, that it was a good time for
introductions. I really want to know more about him.

"I'm Pierre Lacroix. If you haven't worked it out already, I'm French. I
used to live in Avignon, Provence, which is in the south of France. Can you
please tell me where I am, and where you found me? As I have no idea." The
boy replies. His face did show his confusion, so I thought I had better
clear things up for him.

"I rescued you in a little town called Taupo Bay. You are now in a hospital
in Kaitaia, New Zealand." I answer. I can see that the town names meant
nothing to Pierre so I thought that I better tell him what country he is in
as well. His face looks a bit bewildered now.

"New Zealand... Shit, I thought we were somewhere near Australia." Pierre
replies. Now it was our turn to be confused. We know that he couldn't have
been anywhere Australia, as he washed up on the wrong coast for that. We
can't work out how he could have been so far out. But before we can ask him
the doctor opens the door and comes in.

The doctor congratulates us for what we had done to save the boy. He then
explains that they have checked him over, and he is completely fine. They
gave him some food, and a good drink of water, and that was all Pierre
needed. His strength has come back as a result of a good feed. He is ready
to go home. He tells me that because of what I have done for him, the boy
had recovered from hypothermia by the time he got to the hospital. They
have done all the usual tests for someone who has been brought back to
life, and the boy passed in flying colours. His heart is beating in a
normal rhythm, his lungs are clear of any fluid, and most importantly there
are no visible signs of brain damage.

The problem is now that he is ready to get discharged, but he has nowhere
to go. He is technically in the country illegally due to having not cleared
immigration, but he can't do that now as he has no passport. His passport
is now somewhere at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. He also can't get
another passport until immigration services, and the French embassy can
locate a next of kin for the boy. He tells us however that immigration has
allowed him to stay with us, if mum agrees.

"Can he mum? Please let him stay with us." I beg. I can't believe that I'm
actually begging to my mother, but I have no other choice. Callum is by my
side pleading with mum too. Pierre isn't sure what he wants. He really
wants his dad, but until they can find him, he is stuck.

"OK." Mum sighs. She isn't sure that she wants the extra hassle, but she
wants to avoid an argument at all costs. So she agrees. The doctor gets her
to follow him as she is going to have to sign a few documents. The most
important one is granting her temporary custody. The court has already
pre-signed it meaning that the process is pretty easy compared to what it's
usually like. But he is a special case, and until they can find a next of
kin for him, then technically he has no other family making the process
simple. It would be one of the few cases where the New Zealand bureaucracy
is so easy to deal with.

It takes about 20 minutes for mum to sign everything and come back, as the
doctor also had a lot to explain to her. He also tells her that we should
expect a visit from New Zealand immigration within the next couple of
days. They have a lot of questions for Pierre to answer. I am already
starting to feel sorry for him. He will be getting constantly harassed by
the government until he is here legally. Otherwise he will eventually get
deported.

With mum and the doctor now back, Pierre is now free to come home with
us. The doctor gives him his best wishes, and tells him he is free to
go. Unfortunately Pierre is stuck with having to go home still wearing the
hospital robe, as he has no other clothes to put on. Mum can't be bothered
with a trip to the shops, just to get him some clothes to wear for the trip
home. It is more because she has a bad habit of getting the wrong sized
clothes unless we are there to try them on. But she can't have Pierre
wandering around town just in a hospital gown, so she figures that he will
just have to come home like that. If the hospital allows him to take the
robe home.

On the way out mum asks at the reception counter as to whether we will be
allowed to take the hospital robe home, as it was the only thing that
Pierre has to wear. Callum, Pierre and I are waiting by the large glass
doors for her. I know things aren't going so well, as I can see mum is
starting to argue. The whole thing seems to be getting heated. She
eventually storms away from the reception counter back to us.

"I'm sorry Pierre, but once you are in the car you are going to have to
take off the robe." Mum says apologetically. She is still flushed red from
the argument that she just had. She is still looking extremely pissed off
at the whole thing. She just can't believe that the hospital will allow
someone to go home naked, it just isn't right.

"It's OK Mrs Smith. In France nudity isn't such a big deal, so I'm sort of
used to it. Also both your sons have already seen me naked, so it's not
going to be any more embarrassing than before." Pierre says. His voice is
so polite and sincere. Mum instantly cools off from hearing him. He did
have a good point, as both Callum and I have already seen all that he has
to offer. He really doesn't seem concerned about it in the slightest.

We left the hospital through the large sliding doors, and head across the
road to the car park. Once at the car mum unlocks it, and I open up the
backdoor. Pierre doesn't even wait until he is in the car. He just takes
off his robe in the car park and gives it to mum. He then climbs into the
car and sits in the middle seat. He makes no attempt to cover himself
up. He just sits there with everything exposed. Mum heads back across the
road to the hospital to hand the robe back. Callum and I get into the car
on either side of Pierre. We sit there quietly waiting for mum to return.

It is so hard for me not to stare at his exposed sexy package. I try with
all my might to ignore it, but it is impossible. I have to look at it every
chance I get. I'm almost sure Pierre caught me taking a good long look, but
he never said anything. Mum gets back to the car, and we are off again
heading back home.

"Pierre, can you tell us what happened? If you are up to it, of course." I
ask the boy softly. I can see him think long and hard about what I have
just asked him to do. I'm not sure that he will tell us his story. He is
starting to look emotionally fragile, as he relives the experience in his
head. I don't push him. Instead I just sit there in silence. If he is ready
then he will tell us, but I'm not going to make him relive the ordeal it he
isn't up to it.

He decides to tell us. It takes most of the trip for him to tell it all. By
the end he is crying heavily. Callum and I are crying too, as both of us
feel his pain. I think that even mum is crying, but it is harder for her as
she has to drive. My suspicions are confirmed when mum pulls off to the
side of the road and stops the car. I embrace Pierre in a comforting hug. I
jumped a little when I first touch him, as I get another jolt from him. I
am feeling all warm and tingly as I hug him. Callum also gives him a hug
too, as he is feeling the pain from Pierre's story. Mum is trying to wipe
the tears from her eyes so that she can continue driving us home.

Pierre hugs me back. I don't know whether he deliberately chose me or not,
because he also could have hugged Callum. Callum isn't upset by it, as he
still holds his embrace with the boy. He seems to be calming down pretty
quickly now that he is hugging me. Pretty soon he has stopped crying all
together. Mum has been driving again for a while, and we are now heading
down the hill over-looking the town.

From the hill the town looks pretty. The fifty or so houses that make up
the town are hidden by the trees planted in most of the yards. You can just
see the roofs of some houses. Behind the houses you can see the ocean. It
is usually an aqua blue colour, but at the moment still has a brown tinge
to it. The waves can also be seen breaking in the shoreline. To the south
the town abruptly ends, as the steep cliffs climb to the sky.

Most of the southern headland is covered in bush, so looks really green and
pretty. It stems from somewhere inland and goes all the way out into the
sea for about a kilometre, creating the southern edge of the horseshoe
shaped bay. With the right conditions the cloud seems to fall from the
middle of the headland, and it looks like a spectacular waterfall.

The headland at the northern end of the bay is nowhere near as
spectacular. It is a lot smaller in height and length, and is also pretty
barren of vegetation. It has a rock shelf at the end of the headland, which
is my favourite spot for fishing. All behind the town are hills which are
all used for cattle farming. They have a brown look to them at this time of
year, as the moisture levels are down drying out the grass. During the
middle of winter it has a lush green look to it. The road cuts its way in
between the farms as it heads into town.

Town itself isn't anything spectacular. Most of the houses are relatively
modern, as a lot of retirees live here permanently. It isn't a hugely
popular holiday spot, but it is a favourite for surfers around here. The
town does have a small shop. It is located at the campgrounds just as you
enter town from the west. It is a small dairy, which sells just the very
basics. Although it does sell lollies and ice creams for the kids, and
adults alike.

We head into town and towards our house, which is in about the middle of
town. There is a small waist high timber framed corrugated iron fence
around the front and two sides. None of the houses on the beachside of the
road have fences at the back of the properties, to allow easy access to the
beach. The fence has been painted a blue colour pretty recently. There is a
large gap at the front which acts as the driveway, we haven't got a
gate. Just the large gap in the fence.

Mum pulls into the driveway and stops just short of the house. It is a
small white weatherboard cottage. The house has had a new coat of paint on
it within the last couple of years, and stands out like a beacon it is so
bright. It has a grey corrugated steel roof, with a stainless steel chimney
poking out the top.

We get out of the car once mum parks the car and turns the engine
off. Pierre again doesn't think anything about it, and gets out naked. We
then pile in the door to our two bedroom cottage and I led Pierre through
to Callum's and my bedroom.

Our room is what should be the master bedroom, but with us having to have
two beds in here the other bedroom would have been too small. It has blue
and white stripped wallpaper on the walls, along with the flimsy blue
curtains over the windows. In it are two single beds plus two sets of
drawers. On my drawers sits a small 21" TV. We have set it up so my drawers
and the TV are in the middle of our beds, so we can both watch it
equally. We also both have a little desk and chair, which is supposed to
get used for homework when we are going to school. Given that it is now
school holidays, our desks are hidden under a pile of other junk.

On my side of the room I have hung lots of surfing posters on the
walls. But the rest of my area is pretty clear of things. Callum's side on
the other hand is a complete mess. He has toys all over the place. I'm
surprised he can even get out of bed without standing on something. He has
put posters of his favourite movies up on the walls. But given how much is
in the room already, we still have enough room to put a mattress down for
if someone comes to stay.

 I rifled through my drawers till I find some clothes that I think will fit
Pierre. He is a bit smaller than me standing at 4'6", and weighing
39kg. But I'm pretty sure that he will fit some of my clothes. I hand him
some red briefs, which he pulls on, but they keep slipping down. He pulls
them off again, and tells me that he isn't worried about wearing
undies. That could be a problem I think to myself, as I then hand him some
black rugby league shorts. He pulls them on, but the legs are that short on
them that when he walks the tip of his foreskin is visible. They are the
only shorts that I have which have an elastic waist band on them.

"Are you going to be all right with them? Or do you want some track pants?
I'm only asking because when you sit down everyone will be able to see your
dick since you're not wearing any undies." I ask Pierre. I know that I
wouldn't want just anyone to be able to see my dick, so was a bit concerned
for him. Especially since we don't know when the immigration people will
show up.

"I'm not worried about you seeing my dick. I just sat in the car naked for
ages. Anyway I thought that you liked looking at my dick." Pierre says
quietly. My mouth drops wide open as I realise that he has caught me
looking. My face flushes bright red, as I am completely embarrassed at
having been caught out. All Pierre can do is laugh at me.

"I'm not worried about you looking. For some strange reason I liked it."
Pierre whispers in my ear. He isn't going to admit that he had struggled to
stop himself boning up the whole time that I was looking at his dick. I
quickly forgot about my embarrassment knowing that he isn't offended by
it. I am feeling quite relieved. That last thing that I want is for him to
make a huge deal at me for staring at his boyhood.

"But what about the immigration people? Surely you don't want them to see
your dick." I say to Pierre. I am trying to get the conversation away from
my blatant staring, back to the matter at hand.

"If they turn up, then I will put on some track pants." Pierre replies
nonchalantly. I don't really think that he is expecting to see them
today. But I'm not so sure. He is currently illegally staying in the
country, so usually the authorities act pretty quickly with that kind of
thing. Mind you he is probably more of an expert about immigration than I
am, as I have never left the country. From what he was telling me during
the car ride, he and his father have been travelling the world for a while
now.

It is his choice so I stop worrying about it. He is comfortable enough, so
who am I to argue. I just hope he doesn't expect me to dress like that. I
hand him a green printed tee shirt to put on. He pulls it on, and then I
think that I had better show him the rest of the house. So we head out the
door, and I quickly open the next door down the hallway.

It is mums room, and with a double bed in there it is pretty cramped. But
she still manages to fit in a large chest of drawers, with a huge mirror
sitting on top. The walls in her room have a deep red wallpaper up on them,
and on the walls mum has various photos of us kids. Her carpet is a greyish
white sort of colour, which goes through the rest of the house. I close the
door and continue the tour.

The first room on the opposite side of the hall is the toilet. It is a
small room, but it does have a small hand basin in it. It is white like the
bathroom is. The bathroom is again another small room. It has a showerhead
above the bath. There is a railing around the bath which holds the shower
curtain, so that when you take a shower the water doesn't go
everywhere. There is also a medium sized vanity unit, with a dirty clothes
bin beside it. In the wall behind the vanity is an inbuilt medicine
cabinet, and in the corner is a relatively large rubbish bin. It looks a
bit out of place in the bathroom, but a smaller one wouldn't be big enough.

Next is the living part of the house. All the rooms at this end have an
earthy yellow colour paint on them. The lounge is definitely the biggest
room in the house. But by modern standards is small, but cosy. The ranch
slider out to the back yard is off the lounge. We have a red three seated
couch and matching armchair set around a small coffee table. Our TV is a
36" plasma, which sits on and glass entertainment cabinet. The cabinet
holds a DVD player, and both an Xbox360 and PlayStation 3. Beside the
cabinet are two large disc towers which are completely full of DVD's and
games. In the corner of the room is an old iron cast potbelly fireplace.

On the opposite wall to the ranch slider is the front door. There is a
small cloak room before it enters the lounge. Beside the cloak room,
through another door accessed from the lounge, is the galley style
kitchen. The kitchen is small but modern. All the appliances are new, and
aside from the size the kitchen is really useable. When it was renovated it
was expertly designed to make maximum use of the small room size. The house
doesn't have a dining room so we eat in the lounge.

"You wanna go out and shoot some hoops?" I ask Pierre after I had finished
giving him a tour of the house. I don't want to be inside, as the weather
is now a stunning summer's day outside. The cyclone has well and truly
gone, and a large high has now taken its place. The humidity has also
dropped a little. It's always pretty humid in this part of the country.

"Yeah, sounds like fun." Pierre replies. He hasn't played much basketball,
but does enjoy shooting hoops when he has the chance. He also wants
something to take his mind off things. He is hoping that this will help.

"Callum, do you wanna shoot some hoops with us?" I call out to my little
brother. He doesn't reply. He doesn't need to, as he is bouncing around at
the idea. He will do anything as long as I do it to. He runs off to our
bedroom to get the basketball. Almost as soon as he had gone, he is back
again with ball in hand.

We went outside squinting at the brightness of the sun. It is a lot
brighter outside than it has been inside, and it takes a few moments for
our eyes to adjust. We went out the front to the garage, where a basketball
hoop is hung above the garage door. Unfortunately the drive is gravel all
the way up to the garage. So we can't play any one on one basketball, as
the gravel is too unstable to dribble the ball on.

I suggest that we play a game called H-O-R-S-E. The object is everyone
takes a shot from the same place, if you miss your shot you get awarded a
letter. Once you have enough letters to spell horse you are out. The winner
is the person who misses the least shots, in other words the only player
who doesn't get all the letters to spell horse. I start and sink my
shot. Callum also sinks his shot, which left Pierre, who I don't know well
enough to have any idea what sort of competition he will be. Pierre shoots,
and by the looks of it he is pretty good, as he also sinks his basket.

After every successful round we take a step back before we take our next
shot. We get quite a way back from the hoop before the first shot is
missed. We have almost come out of Callum's range, as he struggles to even
get the ball to hit the rim. His shot looks accurate. It just doesn't have
the legs. Callum is only 9 so he doesn't have the arm strength that Pierre
or I have. I run to the garage and grabbed a piece of chalk. I then tell
Callum to take two steps forward from where he took his last shot, and I
mark where he is now standing with an X. I tell my little bro that he can
take the rest of his shots from there, as I want to keep things fair. But I
still awarded him the letter H. After all he did miss a shot.

Pierre is really good, as he quickly sunk the shot that Callum had
missed. We take another step back before I shoot again. I have been
concentrating too much on trying to keep things fair for my little brother,
that I don't pay enough attention to my shot. I miss wide, as it hits the
top of the garage and bounces off on a funny angle. I now have the letter
H, just like my little bro. Both Callum and Pierre sink their shots.

Pierre and I ended up having the same shooting range, as we both miss the
same shot in the same place. Both shots don't have the legs to reach the
hoop. I take two steps forward like I had for Callum, and put an X on the
ground from where we are to shoot from. It takes a couple of hours before I
finally drop out. I get H-O-R-S-E, so my game is over. Callum and Pierre
still have one letter each to get. It takes another fifteen minutes till we
finally get a winner. We also have a couple of replays due to both of them
missing the same shot, which results in both getting H-O-R-S-E at the same
time. Callum is the winner, as Pierre misses a shot that my little bro has
sunk.

We are all smiling through the enjoyment of the game. Winning really meant
nothing to any of us. Callum doesn't care in the slightest that he has won,
he is just happy to have been playing with us. Due to the heat, and
exertion of the game we are all drowned in sweat. My mouth is bone dry, and
I presume the other two will have the same problem. So I went inside to the
kitchen, and grab us all a nice cold can of lemonade from the fridge.

I then take the cans outside and hand one to Pierre, and one to my
brother. We all quickly crack open the cans, and scull the refreshingly
cold liquid. It works wonders, as my throat no longer feels dry. All three
of us let out a loud burp, after finishing our drinks. We all crack up
laughing as a result.

Mum then yells out to us that dinner is ready, so I grab the basketball and
follow the others back inside. Dinner is the usual crap that mum cooks. She
can't really cook, so finds really easy things to make. She has cooked up
some bland tasting precooked sausages. She has also cooked some store
bought oven fries, and mixed vegetables. It is all pretty bland, and
uninspiring. But it is food, and we all scoff it down leaving our plates
empty. Callum took everyone's plate and loads them in the dishwasher. He
then came and took his seat back on the couch beside us.

He stops dead just before sitting down, and his face flushes bright red. I
don't understand what has suddenly come over my little brother, so I follow
his gaze. Pierre's prick is hanging out the leg hole in his shorts. At some
stage during dinner he has repositioned himself, which has caused the short
legs on the shorts to ride even higher. It left everything exposed. Pierre
hasn't even noticed as he is too busy watching TV, which mum had turned on
when she sat down for dinner. Callum had tried so hard not to look at
Pierre's nakedness when we were in the car, but seeing him exposed like
this, his childhood curiosity took over. He finally snaps back to reality
and sits back down.

"Pierre, your dickie has fallen out of your shorts."  Callum whispers into
Pierre's ear. Pierre just looks down and sees his prick hanging out for all
to see. So he grabs the bottom of the shorts, and pulls the leg down
properly to cover it up as best as possible.

After a while of watching TV, Pierre starts yawning. Callum is also zoned
out, as he is very tired. Mum tells us that we should brush our teeth and
go to bed. So we all drag ourselves off the couch and down towards our
room. I went straight into the bathroom, followed by Callum. I look around
for a spare toothbrush, but can't find one.

"Mum, Pierre's gonna need a toothbrush." I yell from the bathroom. I tell
Pierre that we don't have a toothbrush for him to use, unless he wants to
use one of ours. He didn't, so went to our bedroom to wait for us.

"OK, I will pick one up first thing in the morning." Mum yells back to
us. I know she was good for her word. She will go down to the store at the
campground as soon as it opens. She is good with things like this.

Callum and I quickly brush our teeth, and make our way to our bedroom. Mum
has set up the mattress and made it up, using thin white summer
sheets. Pierre is sitting on my bed naked. I try not to stare, and ask him
if he wants some pyjamas to wear. He doesn't, but I grab some PJ shorts
from my drawers for me to wear. I then say that I am going to the toilet,
and leave the room. I quickly did my business, and get changed into my
pyjama bottoms while I am in there, and then went back out and into my
room.

Callum is naked, but has his back to us. All we can see is his white bubble
butt. He quickly pulls on his pyjama bottoms, before he puts on the top and
buttons it up. He is wearing his Transformers summer PJ's tonight. I just
have plain light blue bottoms on. Pierre is happy to sleep naked. Callum
gets into bed, and closes his eyes. He is asleep before either Pierre or I
have even got into bed. I still can't believe how fast my little brother
can fall asleep. I ask Pierre whether he wants my bed, or the mattress on
the floor. He doesn't want to put me out, so takes the mattress. We both
get into bed, and quickly we fall asleep.

I again struggle to sleep. I haven't had a good sleep in almost two
years. I become aware of a strange sound coming from the floor where Pierre
is sleeping. It sounds like whimpering. He then starts tossing and turning,
so I know that he is in the throes of a nightmare. I hop out of bed, and
went over to the boy. His sheet has been thrown off him during his violent
struggle. I slip onto the mattress beside him, and try to gently wake
him. He slowly wakes up, and starts bawling his eyes out. I embrace him in
a comforting hug, and stroke his back. He quickly calms down, and is asleep
before I realised it. I just lay there with him, enjoying the feelings his
body is generating in me. I am asleep before I know it. It is the best
sleep I have had in a long time.

"Callum, Josh, did you know that someone had taken your photo? Because it's
on the front page of the Northland Times." Mum suddenly yells to us. We all
wake up with a start. Mums voice has a huge element of panic in it. I
slowly come back to life, and start to comprehend what she has just said. I
look over at Callum, and he has the same look of horror on his face, as I
do.

"Oh shit! This isn't good. How the hell did that happen?" Callum and I
say. We are now really worried. Pierre gave us a confused look, as he
thought that it should have been a good thing. I know that we are going to
have to tell him what having the picture in the paper really means.

***

I suddenly come back to reality, as I felt the car come to a stop. I'm
feeling really groggy, almost like I have just woken up. I suppose in a lot
of ways I have. As my eyes start to focus again, I take a look around. We
have stopped outside some public toilets in Kerikeri. Mum must need to go
to the toilet, I think to myself. Sure enough mum un-belts herself, and
gets out of the car. Then she pretty much runs into the women's toilet.

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

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