The Neverending Story Revisited Chapter 1

This is a work of fanfiction based on the 1984 film The Neverending Story© released by Constantin Films™

⛿ I write two different variations of fan fiction, the story revisited and the story re-imagined. In those tales which are revisited, the film, plot, characters, and actors who portrayed them remain as they were in the original production and I am simply revisiting that storyline some time later. In a re-imagined manuscript I take the overall story told on screen and change one or more elements thus making it much more a different take on the original concept.

⛿ Your thoughts and/or discourse regarding this work are enjoyable and welcome. I will also consider BETA READING your work if you are interested in feedback prior to posting a new story idea in development or chapter from an existing work. sbt.atreyu@gmail.com

⛿ Content Warnings: Language, Sexual/Homoerotic/Romantic Relationships Between Minors, Descriptive Youth Male Nudity, Graphic Sexual Activity Between Minors, all of which are fictional in their entirety and do not represent any person, living or dead.

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SETTING, PLACE, and TIME:
Our story takes place five years after the events of the 1984 film which places us in 1989. To avoid any confusion, Bastion Bux is now fifteen and has moved to Los Angles. As one might expect, Atreyu in the book-world of Fantasia has not aged and remains as we left him at the end of the film.

This was the boy's first year on the Collings High School varsity baseball team, home of the Ironmen, though for some inexplicable reason their mascot was that of a fire-breathing Minotaur. He once asked his coach about this, pointing out the fact that Minotaurs were only part men, did not have or wear iron, and were generally not known for breathing anything other than air. Coach Hawthorne gave him a pained look and walked away muttering something about school board contract negotiations and early retirement.

At fifteen Bastion Bux looked very much the same as he did when he was ten and then again at twelve. A sophomore at Collings found him remarkably the same in each previous year's version, only somewhat taller and bit more filled out. Other than the length of his hair, each year his school pictures looked the same as the last. His father had finally relented and let him grow his hair out, though he had remained firm on a monthly trim to keep it off his collar. With both Farrah Fawcett and Lief Garrett leading hairstyle trends, this said a lot about a kid growing up in the mid 80s. In Bastion's case it said he was still too timid to offer his father much in the way of youthful rebellion.

Bastion heard the "tink" of the bat hitting the ball some 30 feet ahead of him. As a decent enough shortstop, he had not only made varsity, but to the chagrin of several seniors, he was a starter. Quickly slide-shuffling to his right he snatched the beeline hit out of the air as it tried to pass him into left field. With laser precision he took the ball out of his glove and fired it off to second base, hoping to catch the first base runner between the pads. Success! Two outs, one to go and the game would be over for the Wolverines.

The next hitter lumbered slowly to the plate swinging the aluminum bat with both hands in a figure eight above his head like it was the checkered flag at Daytona. Bastion guessed the kid had to be well over six feet tall and it was clear by the way he had been stuffed into his aquamarine colored uniform that meal time was as much a sporting event for the behemoth of manchild as was today's game. The fact that the "boy" had a full mustache and more hair on his forearms than Bastion had on his entire body was testament to what too much testosterone could do to a person..

Turning to face the outfield and basemen, the pitcher took a few steps off the mound and began waving for everybody to move back deeper into the outfield. His name was Elias Tonazzi and he was, without question or merit, Bastion's best friend. By some freak of nature, (outside of the kid now at bat) he too was only a sophomore. The senior classmen were having a bad year. Elias had been pitching since he was eleven, played T-ball even earlier than that and had made it to the Little League World Series, making it all the way to the international game. The boys from Japan won that year and to this day Elias swore he would have his revenge.

Elias was a member in good standing of the Tonazzi clan, a very close and loud Italian family who's matriarch spawned an entire baseball team of rough and tumble boys. Spend any time at their house and you would quickly learn that they ticked all the boxes for flag and country. They all talked with their hands, wore their emotions on the sleeve and were fiercely proud and devoted to one another. Yelling was considered an endearment and while father worked to support six growing boys, mother was the one truly in charge. All the neighborhood kids referred to her as Mama Consigliere and no one, not even the mailman knocked on the front door. If you were a kid showing up at the Tonazzi home, you just walked right in, stopped by the refrigerator for something to drink and then went in search of the boy you were looking for.

Bastion tried not to stare at the considerable forest of jet black pubic hair jutting out from between Kent Ruttlidge's legs. If it weren't for the fact that the senior had an slightly above average length of flaccid penis to work with, the overgrowth would have made it difficult to judge his actual gender. The perfect triangle of man-bush didn't look out of place as Kent's overall development had kept pace with the boy's End of Adolescence journey.

Bastion turned and faced the wall behind him, thus allowing him to get a handful of liquid soap from the dispenser. The manufacturers label claimed their soap was formulated to be both a body wash and shampoo, a good thing in Kent's case. His crotch alone was going to need copious amounts a shampoo, conditioner and possibly a high-powered blow dryer. Bastion smiled at the thought of the other boy standing at the row of sinks in the locker room, one leg up on the counter, balls swinging like a pair of fuzzy dice as he blow-dried that woolly mess.

Looking down at his own boyhood Bastion almost shrugged his shoulders in acceptance of his much less shaggy pubic appearance. Something of a late bloomer, even though his testicles had finally dropped and his penis had gotten some mildly impressive length and girth to it, he hadn't actually started to get the dark brown curls until he was practically fourteen. Now, a year later he had a nice shadow of pubes that formed a diminutive yet thick bush at the base of his penis. Thank you Puberty Gods.

Turning back to face the action (so to speak) he pressed his cupped hand holding the promised soap/shampoo concoction into his groin and began to lather everything in the area up. At the beginning of the season Elias had told him that as the only two (and youngest) sophomores on the varsity team, they should always start any shower by vigorously washing their dicks. This is important (he affirmed earnestly) because all that flopping about, combined with the occasional pull this way and that, would cause some mild engorgement thus getting them "fluffed up" for the sake of display aesthetics. This was a little trick passed on by one of Elias' older brothers (he was third in succession of a total of seven).

Elias was always good for tips on how to navigate the world of the high school. Everything from developing the all important "cool factor", teen angst, what to wear and how to wear it, girls, parents, bullies, unrepentant assholes, best way to cheat in Mr. Durst's algebra class, and most important; the boy's locker room where adolescent nudity abounded without apology. It was the one place on the planet where you quickly learned that no, not everyone had the same thing. Not by any stretch of a pubertal boy's imagination.

The gushing noise of steamy hot water being forced through the ten shower heads normally made it rather difficult to have a real conversation in the open bay showers of the school's locker room. However the almost embarrassing win over the rich-bitch Laguna Beach Wolverines had the team in a boisterous mood. Yelling above the hydro-cacophony, everyone seemed to have an opinion as to how they won against a team that had taken the State Championship for the last four years running.

Bastion turned red knowing that everyone would now be looking at him and even without necessarily meaning to, down at his dick as well. Naturally it was Martin Cassidy. It was always Martin Cassidy. Boner jokes and masturbation jibes were an obsession for the junior who had a dick the size of your average sixth grader. He was the only kid Bastion knew who openly admitted to jerking himself off. Daily. All his other friends and every kid he ever saw in the movies with a PG or above rating lied easily, quickly qualifying that they didn't need to perform such a virgin-esque act as they got all the pussy they could handle from their girlfriends.

Though, now that he thought about it, that wasn't exactly true. Elias had never lied about what he and his left hand were up to. But that was different. Elias was his pal and they knew each others secrets, such as they were.

"Fuck you very much!" Bastion yelled over the water streams with a grin. That was another bit of brotherly advise. Never get pissed off at an insult as it just made you look all the more guilty. Take the power away from the jokester and try to turn it on him. "That must be why you wear glasses in the shower. For safety!"

An explosion of laughter erupted as everyone turned to now look towards Martin who had such bad eyesight that he really did have to wear his gold wire-rim spectacles even in the shower.

Elias, who was showering next to Bastion as he always did, added a protective slight in defense of his buddy. "Cassidy, tell me something. Does that thing you seem so proud of come in adult size when you... wrap your greasy hand around it? From what I see its really... fucking small!"

Another round of laughter exploded followed by a slew of similar themed insults all of which Martin seemed to relish in. Not only was he the center of attention, but everyone seemed to be gazing down at his crooked little dick. As far as Martin Cassidy was concerned, for him it was a win-win. Bastion wondered (not for the first time) just why it was that Martin seemed to like being humiliated, especially when it came to his not-so-large dong.

An hour later and after a terrifying ride in Johnny's candy-apple red Trans Am, both boys found themselves in Bastion's bedroom. Johnny was Elias' next oldest older brother and was probably the one he looked to for most of his "I need my big brother" issues. It was also Johnny (a senior at Collings) who was responsible for keeping them safe from school bullies and degenerates, providing for all their porno magazine needs, giving them rides to and from school and teaching them how to take a chick's bra off with only one hand. Elias earned himself a punch to the shoulder when he asked Johnny why one-handed, wanting know just what the hell he was doing with his other hand?

With Pink Floyd loudly proclaiming that they (nor anybody else) needs no education , the two sat on the floor eating a pizza, extra mushrooms and jalepeno peppers. To complete the meal, Bastion's father Ron had included a six pack of beers, those of the root variety.

Bastion looked at him deadpan. "I was wondering if you could say 'okay' a few more times when forming your sentences. You sound like a valley girl and it kinda turns me on."

Elias blinked a few times, trying to come up with a suitable reply. Nothing. Then, "No, seriously. Okay, just listen and answer the question without passing out or whatever. Okay?"

Elias looked a little annoyed. "Yeah, thanks for that. I never would have guessed." Another bite of pizza while still working on the first. "But do they look okay? I mean do you notice anything... special?"

"Well, I know you're circumcised. I mean as your best friend in the entire universe I knew this already. It's not like I don't know exactly what you got, how much you've got and where you got it, but anyone else who takes a few moments to check out your... bulge, well, they will now know too. The mystery is finally solved."

Elias' eyes went wide in horror and he quickly looked down to see for himself. Then, confirming the fact that the outline of the head of his penis was clearly evident (as he had previously slung everything over toward his left thigh) he let out a scream of frustration and threw himself flat on the floor as if dead by a singe shotgun blast.

"That was the first time I saw you naked. Remember? You, me, Johnny and that skater kid friend of his, who looks like a girl by the way. We all jumped the fence in the middle of the night and went skinny dipping at that house. The family was on vacation."

Elias sat up and, having completely recovered from whatever it was he just went through, took another slice of pizza from the box. "Debbie Hoffman told Rachael Dillard, who then called Rohnda the Panda that she thought parachute pants were sexy cause of the material. She said you could see a dude's dick bouncing around."

"You don't need a counselor, you need a psychiatrist. Yes, wear underwear. You will still get the 'oh look at that boy's package' thing, but it won't quite reveal if you're Jewish. I think Muslim boys go to the chop-shop as well. And some tribes in Africa I think. Or was it Australia?"

Elias stood up and walked over to the full length mirror mounted to the back of Bastion's bedroom door. Shoving the half-finished slice of pizza into his mouth, he used his now free hands to adjust his loosy-goosey genitals into different positions while moving his hips left and right to gauge the visual results.

Elias worked the button of his newly purchased parachute pants and unzipped the zipper. They crumpled down around his ankles where he carefully stepped out of them. He was in no real hurry. Their friendship had long ago surpassed any degree of personal modesty. "Besides, just because someone's pecker is circumcisioned in a neat and pleasing fashion like mine doesn't mean your a Jew. Every white boy I've ever seen is cut. Most of the blacks are cut and it's only the Mexicans or Asian boys who have skin, not that I'm judging or anything. It's ethnic ."

Bastion made no attempt to hide the fact that he was looking down between the other boys legs. He got a giddy feeling down in the pit of his stomach whenever he saw Elias without any clothes on. He noticed that the other boy wasn't completely soft. Not entirely. Everything was, to a degree, more prominent than say it would have been on a cold winter's day of snow skiing in your swim trunks. Must have been all that rough and calculated adjusting.

Elias had, at least as far as Bastion's limited experience went, the most perfect dick. It was neither too thin or too fat. It wasn't strikingly long, but it certainly had a definitive hang to it, lying lazily over his smooth, hairless scrotum. His balls were of fair size, the right hanging slightly lower than its twin, and there was a fine patch of very dark brown, almost black curls that were surprisingly broad across his pubic region. It amazed Bastion how a boy with such light blonde hair could have such dark brows and almost charcoal colored pubic hair. Even the thin wisps of pit hair came in as a dark shadow.

Unconcerned as to how his staring might be taken, he was comfortable and also certain that Elias didn't mind. Many times the situation had been reversed and there seemed to be an unspoken understanding. Normal boys with a normal curiosity, doing normal comparisons, and there was a normal acceptance of this normal circumstance. "David Bonavitch is uncut. And, he's hung like a small pony. It's almost comical."

"Yugoslavian," Bastion corrected, wishing that Elias would get an erection. He had seen the blonde kid with a hard on lots of times, usually in the mornings during one of their sleep overs, or when perusing the well-worn pages of Hustler magazine, courtesy of Johnny. They would sit side by side commenting on all the big tits and hairy slits and the bulge in both their pants quite obvious and unapologetic

When Elias got hard two things happened. First, his dick pointed straight up and got a slight curve to it, similar to that of a petite banana, and second, he would precum. The kid's circumcised, bulbous head would leak like crazy, quickly leaving its mark in his underwear or, if it was out and free, the sliver dripping slowly down onto the floor. For some unknown reason that really got Bastion going, not that he could ever admit that to his pal.

"Whatever. So, what's this 'thing' you wanted to tell me about," Elias asked, deciding his parachute pants experiment had run its course. "What's all the secrecy about?"

Bastion didn't say anything right away. Instead he finished his pizza in exaggerated silence. Elias correctly read the moment and knew his friend needed some time to think. He knew Bastion's moods and it wouldn't be worth the effort to try and rush him. For the next five minutes neither boy spoke until they had finished eating, letting the pall fill in for the usual teenage banter.

Bastion had intended for this conversation to take place later that night. Earlier in the week the boys had made arrangements for Elias to sleep over that Saturday night after the game. Not that much planning was really required. On any given weekend or practically daily during the summers, unless one of them had family plans or managed to get themselves into some sort of trouble, one sleeping at the other's house was pretty much the norm.

This time however Bastion had been meticulous in his planning. He had told Elias that he had something critical, a thing very important to tell him and he needed everything to go just right. It was, well, imperative . One might even say a matter of life and death.

Bastion explained that he needed to talk to him, but it would take a while to discuss and needed to be done on an overnight. Of course Elias agreed. That was one of the reasons why Bastion loved his friend so much. No matter what the other boy had going on in his life, if Bastion needed him to do something, he would always drop everything without asking what the hell could be so important. And tonight this was something important.

The sun had set almost hour ago and it was nearly nine in the evening. Bastion's father had said goodnight and with the door double locked (his desk chair wedged under the door knob) against parental intrusion it was finally time for the big reveal.

Bastion rolled his eyes accepting his fate. It was a game they played each time one would sleep over at the other's house. This had been "their way" since their very first overnight. Regardless of whose house they were staying in, the winner of the game would get the bed, the other relegated to a sleeping bag on the floor. Not that it was an uncomfortable way to go, both boy's bedrooms were carpeted, but the bed was admittedly the better option and it had turned into a matter of prestige.

Already shirtless (as he had been during and since the pizza dinner) Elias began to once again strip out of his recently purchased navy blue parachute pants. While he did so, Bastion went to the closet and dug around for the sleeping bag and extra pillow.

Bastion tossed the bag and pillow into a heap and then peeled out of his shirt. "No, I'm not dying. I just need to explain something to you and it's way complicated."

Free of his shirt Bastion yanked down his gray sweatpants in one fluid motion revealing the silk red and white bikini briefs he often preferred when it was just the two of them. When viewed sans clothing, they left very little to the imagination when it came to his prominent important parts.

"This is going to be kinda hard for you to believe. I really can't say I believe it myself." Bastion paused and considered his words. "Well, that's not exactly the case.. I do believe it, I just can't believe I believe it."

"Oookaaaay..." Elias intoned with dramatic exaggeration. If Bastion didn't get to the point soon he was considering taking the drawer out of the night stand and throwing it at him.

"Fuck this!" Elias said without any harshness. Patience was not a strong suit for him and he could tell Bastion was struggling. "Look, you don't have to say it. I know already. I have always known. But it's cool, kay? I truly don't give a fuck kiddo. I love you like a brother. Hell, most of the time I love you more than all of my brothers, and that's saying something!"

"Look man, I get it. You're gay, and who cares? I am a little jealous cause your dick is bigger than mine and that's not exactly fair, but who you are with... um, sexually, no concern of mine. As a matter of fact in a way it's kinda better. We don't go after the same girls. See? No big deal."

Bastion blinked a few times in an effort to distinguish if it was his head or the room that was spinning. Finally he cleared away the fog enough to speak. His words were barely audible. "Elias, that's definitely not what I was going to say."

"When I was ten, before we moved here, I lived with my father in Seattle. You know this already and I've told you about my mom. But what I've never talked about was something that happened to me while I was there. It's gonna sound crazy, but it's real.

"Oh no. I could completely see that... guessed..." Elias realized his mistake and stopped in mid sentence. He quickly made a tic-a-lock and throwing away the key motion over his mouth.

Bastion scowled but continued. "There was this group of boys, three of them. Two were brothers and the third kid was sort of their leader. They saw me as an easy target at school, made me pay them my lunch money not to throw me in dumpsters. They did everything they could to make my life miserable. And, they were good at it.

"One day I was walking to school and they spotted me on the street. I ran, they pursued and I ended up in the dumpster. When I climbed out they chased me again, but this time I ran around a corner and then ducked into a store. At least I thought it was a store. Turns out it was a book shop. I started looking around at all these old books, most I had never heard of, but some I had. Like I said I was really into books and this was the perfect place to hide out. Books and more books. It sounds pathetic, but they were my friends. At the time it worked for me.

The warrior Atreyu, asleep in the bed quarters of his comfortable two-room adobe, woke with a start. Sitting up quickly, he grabbed at the soft leather knife scabbard that lay at the top of the bed pallet. With knife in hand, the blade turned out for maximum damage in case of attack, he remained completely still, listening. As a warrior of the Plains People, it was not unknown that his kind could be the target of attack.

From what he could tell outside things were quiet. There was a soft rain and everything smelled wet, clean and fresh. If there was some sort of trouble, his white stallion Artax as well as the other horses or the war-wolves would be sounding the alarm. Inside, everything seemed to be in order. There was nothing foreign about the smell, the only scent was that of his bloodmate who was sleeping soundly, his body pressed up against his. Many did not understand that often times an intruder could be detected by bringing his or her scent into a place where it would not otherwise normally be. As for sound, that too belonged to Koddi, the fourteen year-old's breathing soft and regular.

Without any other movement and continuing to listen intently, Atreyu moved his free hand with exaggerated slowness and placed only the tips of his fingers on the warm, smooth skin of the other boy-warrior's chest. The heart beat steady with the rise and fall of his breath. Atreyu's eyes were already adjusted to the mostly darkness and he was able to see about the small, tidy sleep room. No threats.

Both warriors were completely naked save for their jankstraps, the small garment used in place underwear. Hardly more than a thong, the jankstrap was aptly named. It consisted of a finely woven pouch only large enough to accommodate the boy's jank and pocos, rising just high enough on the lower abdomen to conceal whatever amount of manhair the wearer might posses. Attached under the pouch and traveling back and around the buttocks were two thin elastic straps that met up on the equally elastic thin, belt-like waistband.

So what had startled him to awake in such an anticipation of danger Atreyu did not know. While there was no immediate danger to him or Koddi, he still felt as if something was not right. There was an unease in his spirit. He felt as if someone had called to him in panic. Someone Atreyu knew, but like a distant memory or trying to recall the details of a dream, he could not say who or what it was.

After several more minutes, one hand holding his knife at the ready the other resting gently on his bloodmate's chest, Atreyu finally relaxed. Not completely of course, but enough to move and place the knife back in its scabbard.

"You should go back to sleep, mine," the boy next to him said in a voice going through the husky, breaking throws of puberty. Though he spoke, Koddi hadn't moved a muscle.

"It is so. You do not think I could sleep next to you and not feel your spirit. If any comes for you, it or they must pass my knife first. And, you well know that will not be an easy task."

Atreyu smiled, his white teeth standing out in the darkness of the sleep room they shared. He should have realized his bloodmate would have felt his own spirit's unrest. Looking down he saw that Koddi too had his wicked looking blade out and at the ready, half hidden under his body. "Well spoken, mine. It was wise to feign sleep. You even fooled me."

Koddi sat up leaving his knife at the center of the bed. Most warriors of the Plains People slept with at least some sort of weapon underneath them for just such an occasion as being set upon during sleep.

Koddi continued to play with Atreyu's hair, combing it back through his fingers. "Maybe it is an enemy that you sent to death in battle, one who would want to revenge its now decaying body."

Koddi barred his teeth in mock rage, taking a handful of his bloodmate's hair and pulling back sharply. "This spirit you speak of is treading dangerous ground. Only I may touch you, of that all things are certain. Mine."

Atreyu played the game, barring his own teeth and pretending to be just as angry. "Agreed, I am yours to do with as only you can say. But remember this..." Atreyu's hand moved with blinding speed, reaching down between Koddi's legs and grabbing the full contents of the boy's white cotton jankstrap. "You are mine as well and I will always have my say on certain things, including this oversized jank you are so proud of!"

Koddi let out a gasp, the tone of which belied both surprise and pleasure. Without releasing any of the tension he had on the knot of Atreyu's hair he gazed down at the little cloth garment supporting his boyhood. It was beginning to swell ever so slightly in the twelve year-old boy's hand.

"You must do what you feel is best for the both of us. But, if you don't release me, I fear that there will be a very messy bit of boy play in our almost immediate future."

Their faces only inches apart the pair stared at one another, each daring the other to be the first to look away. While this was going on Atreyu could feel the jank in his hand getting thicker. At this point Koddi knew he was not in a good bargaining position. If Atreyu kept a hold of Koddi's reveals, passion would cause him to loose his resolve.

Atreyu leaned closer, his eyes never wavering. Keeping his voice low and menacing, their lips practically toughing he said, "Whatever this spirit is that has journeyed some great distance to haunt me, it can watch while I take you here in our sleep pallet!"

Try as he might Koddi felt his determination slipping at Atreyu's words. He could not hold out for a moment longer. Smiling weakly he dropped his eyes in submission, released his hold on the younger boy's hair, opened his knees wider to give his bloodmate easier access to all of his sex.

At fourteen and two full years older than Atreyu, Koddi was taller by four inches in height and almost two inches longer in length. Atreyu didn't mind the height difference so much, but it was proving impossible to will the natural growth of his jank to catch up with Koddi, let alone his competitive drive to surpass him.

Like Atreyu, Koddi wore his black hair long, the straight locks falling just past his shoulders in a traditional warrior fashion. Only the warrior clan of the plains people could wear their hair long. Man or boy, the other males of the tribe shaved their heads completely. This also applied to any other hair that grew. Only warriors could keep their pubic region with any measure of man-growth, though there were those that liked to trim whatever they had into different styles or dye its color.

Koddi's physique was essentially identical to Atreyu's. Both boys were lithe and well-built, evenly proportioned so they appeared neither too muscle-bound nor overtly skinny. With cat-like grace and an easy manner, whenever Koddi moved it was always with an economy of movement. Other warriors described him as always relaxed and yet seemingly ready to pounce, you never really knew which.

To Atreyu's way of thinking, Koddi was the most handsome warrior he had ever seen and, even though he would never admit it, he fell in love with the other boy at that moment of first sight. Proud and perhaps too serious, Atreyu worked very hard to maintain his strong image. Of course Koddi knew how the boy was when no one else was around, but then he too did a lot to project his own reputation. The pair of them were considered the most fierce of warriors and the most loyal of bloodmates.

"How will you have me this night? From the front or from behind?" Koddi asked, the tone of his voice very different than moments ago. He was no longer dominant and controlling. Everything about the question sounded like he was anxious, begging to know the answer.

Atreyu placed a hand on the boy's chest and pushed ever so gently, guiding him to lie back on the bed pallet. "I will look you in the eye as I take your essence. This way you will know for a certain thing that your offering is given to me."

Nodding his head Atreyu stood and planted his feet on either side of Koddi's prone body. Staring down at the nearly naked fourteen year-old between his feet, he used both hands to begin pulling at his awakening sex inside the stone bleached white strap.

With his right hand he cupped his pocos, holding them up against himself. This allowed him to feel each developing poco through the soft cotton fabric. With his left hand, the one he preferred to use when playing with his jank, he traced the outline of his growing length. Koddi stared in fascination at Atreyu's hands as they worked. How he loved to watch the younger boy pleasure himself; such a slight boy for his age yet with impressive tumescence both flaccid and erect.

After a time, and now fully jankered up, Atreyu reached into the bottom portion of his jankstrap and pulled out the smooth sack and hanging pocos inside. Still touching himself sensuously he began to pull downward, one poco at a time. A small dark spot of wet seeped through the fabric of his strap, up at the top where his jankslit began to leak. All the while Atreyu gazed at Koddi, taking in his more developed, more sexually mature teenaged beauty.

Koddi lifted his buttocks off the bed and in one fluid motion freed his body of the confining strap. His jank, fully engrossed with the joy of what Atreyu was doing to himself, pointed straight up toward the ceiling of their shared adobe. Near six inches in length and without curve or blemish the boy was so enamored at the sight of Atreyu that his silkskin had pulled back revealing the wet, glistening head of his boysex.

The thick patch of black manhairs stood out prominently against Koddi's otherwise smooth body, the curls of which shining in the dim light from the moon outside. While in no way was he as hairy as a man or even one of the older teens approaching manhood, he did have a magnificently lush bush of soft pubes. Atreyu loved to run this fingers through that soft forest, longing for the day when he could match it.

To complete his sex, the older boy's pocos were well developed and egg-shaped, the right hung lower than its twin. His sack, like Atreyu's was perfectly hairless. Nude and primed Koddi tossed his jankstrap to the floor, confident that he would not be seeing it again until morning.

Panting in the heat of the room and his own sex drive, Atreyu grabbed at the pouch of his jankstrap and pulled it away from his boyhood so that everything popped out. There was a soft thump as the strength of his erection caused his sex to spring up and smack against his lower abdomen.

Releasing his pocos, Atreyu's right hand traveled up his groin finding the much smaller, less thick bush of dark brown hair that covered only about two inches at the base of his jank. His fingers danced through the fine wisps of manhairs, a sense of pride and elation coursing through his blood. He was getting close he knew, his young body not able to quite control the timing of its release.

Dropping to his knees, his throbbing sex poised just at Koddi's lower abdomen, Atreyu began to feverishly manipulate the length of his uncut jank. His silkskin, slick with clear viscous became noisy with the smacking sounds as he rapidly pulled himself.

The first spurt of his essence came in a rushing wave, exploding from his jankslit in one thick rope of wet. Koddi watched in ecstasy as the warm white slip splashed across his bare chest. Before Atreyu could release the second wave he quickly bent over and, still pumping himself to an end, took all of Koddi's boyhood into his mouth, deep-throating as much as he could take.

The moment Koddi felt Atreyu's hot breath and wet tongue against his exposed, unsheathed jank he let out a moan which, when combined with Atreyu's grunts of release, sounded more like a battle cry than boys at play.

Koddi lifted his rear up off the bed just enough to put his hand behind him. Then, as the younger boy began to bob up and down his length, using his longest finger at the middle, he thrust it sharply up his own ass. With a yelp he began to thrust in and out.

Sucking and slobbering, his tongue wild in his mouth, Atreyu continued his release in long spurts as he worked his bloodmate's sex. He could feel the rhythm of Koddi's hips trying to press forward while the fourteen year-old fingered-popped himself into oblivion. And then it happened. Koddi gave his essence to Atreyu with a throaty groan through grit teeth.

Atreyu felt the considerable mouthful of Koddi's boyjank in his mouth tighten. The boy was about to bring himself off, allowing his pocos to release his essence to meet Atreyu's hunger. It only took a brief moment longer before hot, thick wet shot to the back of his throat. With well-practiced discipline the boy warrior was steadfast and took it all. Spurt after spurt erupted for the taking, the blood-hot salty-sweet essence consumed Atreyu as both boys surrendered themselves to the bliss of joined release.

The following morning of what had been a rather long and eventful night, Atreyu woke, annoyed that he and Koddi had slept so soundly that the sun had beaten them up by at least an hour. The day was going to be stifling, already he was sweating. Lifting his head from Koddi's chest and looked around. The bedclothes were a stained mess and the room smelled of boy sex. Both were still naked, having fell asleep shortly after the taking.

About to tenderly wake Koddi so they could go down to the river to wash, Atreyu heard banging on the wooden door of their adobe. Koddi's eyes instantly popped open and he all but tossed his nude bloodmate onto the floor in startled alarm.

And The Story Continues...

⛿ Your thoughts and/or discourse regarding this work are enjoyable and welcome. As a professional screenwriter I am open to working with other writers as either a BETA READER or BETA WRITER with regard to new works or those projects that are already in production. Contact at: sbt.atreyu@gmail.com

The NeverEnding Story - Revisited

Chapter 1

And The Story Continues...