Date: Tue, 19 May 1998 05:04:47 PDT From: "Lars M. Culverine" Subject: Kidnapping Through the Stream of Time CONTENTS: M/b, b/b platonic, erotic science-fiction WARNING: This story involves description of platonic, erotic and possibly sexual relationships between a young male and/or MINOR boy(s). This is an adult-oriented story. If you are under 18 or under legal age in your area to read such stories please exit now. Likewise if you are offended by such material or if a cross- generational man-boy relationship isn't your cup of tea or if you would have behaved in some criminal ways after reading this material, do not read it. You have been warned! As this story itself appears to be a SCIENCE-FICTION there is no doubt about that this is a fiction. However, some characters acting in the story are based on their TRUE opposites and some of the plots depicted REALLY have happened (in a similar way of course). All comments wellcome. It will help me consider my writings not a loss of time. KIDNAPPING THROUGH THE STREAM OF TIME by Lars M. Culverine (c) 1998 CHAPTER 1. My Little Namesake There have been just only few seconds left to the start. I cuddled up in the soft chair, having my body fastened tightly with a narrow stripe of the 4-point security seatbelt. My heart was pounding frantically as I watched motionlessly but at increasing tension all the last seconds that still have left to the approach of the time of my oath.... Generators went on, filling the cabin with a deafening rumble, cabin itself made a shake and then it started to rotate, slow at first. Within some seconds it spinned at a thorough speed. Just before I could realize what was going on the cabin rotated like hell. Increasing acceleration override caused to press my body hard and merciless into the chair, my sight, my hearing and my consciousness blurred, I couldn't manage to take even a slight breath, the cabin whirled faster, faster and faster... The last thing I was able to see was the digital backward time counter, digits in there, running back at full speed, displayed all particular years... 1987..1974..1969..1958..1946..1935..19...... Then a deafening explosion hit my ears and all surroudings were blackened with a sudden impenetrable darkness. I felt as if the cabin was falling somewhere, for long and long time... Then a soft impact, a sharp, blinding light... and the frantic whirling again, a cruel deceleration, pain in my chest, I realized that the revs were descending, looks like we are clear for landing, the deafening rumble became silent and I disappointedly found myself sitting in the cabin, apparently on the same place I started a while before from. However, I felt a sudden freshness and pleasure when breathing, as if I would come to a meadow somewhere very high in the mountains. I still felt some nausea in my head but I realized I could make it. I made a brief glimpse to the backward time counter indicator... and my heart almost stopped. The bluish display on the main board pointed clearly and undoubtedly to the destination time: 16th August 1 9 2 7 ! Staggering, balanced, I got out of the cabin. I checked my indelible SEIKO wrist-watch: contrary to all expectation it didn't get mad during the frantic time jump, it was still displaying the same time and date, even though it wasn't July 1998 just now. I carefully peeked out... Lookyhere! No lab, no glassy building with the extensive area all around, just a meadow, a forest ledge and a half-ruined factory, an abandoned house that served me well as a perfect piece of cover. Hmmm, I must admit I have made a fine choice, nobody comes over here for couple of hours, it seems to be quite far from all those inquisitive and curious people... Well, as far as it goes, it looks like a daft, foolish bedtime story for kids and myself, if you think I acted in it as a positive hero, then wrong! What I was going to do in the close future was completely out of spirits and ideals of those positives. How has it all begun, then? One of my praiseworthy duties at home was to visit from time to time the cemetery not far away and to take care of our family vault where our grandparents rested, to freshen the water for the flowers in there or to freshen rather the flowers themselves, to clean the soil on the grave and so. But, if you were going to get the water you would have to go quite far, almost across the whole half of the cemetery and so, in order not to feel myself bored on the way, I used to read the writings and engravings on the other graves and to look on the old, yellowed pictures on them... One day I visited the place again after a long period of time and as usual I set out for the way to the water pump, dangling with the can in my hand. And as I was examining all those graves and epitaphs, I felt a hot wave suddendly flush all over my body, my heartbeat increased and I stunned there in awe... Right in front of me there was a common granite tombstone I haven't yet noticed before... There was an yellowed oval picture of a little boy placed on it and his stats engraved simply into the stone. Well there would not be anything strange about this if only there wasn't the label that readed: Michael Gieronyme, born 16th August 1916, died 16th August 1927. He died exactly on his eleventh birthday... on the 16th August... but no, MY name is Michael Gieronyme and *I* was born on the 16th August! Punctually the whole fifty years after the death of that boy, on the 16th August 1977! It was incredible, crazy, I could not believe it... Yet the same day I ran to the city public library, then to the record office, to the births-and-deaths-register, chasing all institutions possible just to get known, what had happened the day... I copied a huge pile of yellowed, even 80 years old files and records, newspapers, birth certificates, everything I could remember, even some pages from our local city chronicle. Then I locked myself in my room at home and started to study all those materials. As I was just having a brief glimpse to the third leaf I almost let it fall down. It was a copy of an article from the contemporary newspaper dated 17th August 1927... The title readed: "Tragical Accident in Abandoned Factory". It was printed right on the second page, with inch-sized letters... I feverishly started to read... A classical routine tragedy... Some little orphan gets into the abandoned ruins in the area of some former factory without any supervision and a huge piece of ceiling crashes down on him. Then a short report concerning his lifetime fortunes followed by the final warning "instructive" conclusion added by local police officials. The repeatedly emphasized and accentuated cause of death right on his 11th birthday also did not help much to decrease the depresiveness of that article. I was so sorry of the boy... He died so young, so innocent and his death was THIS dull and even such cruel and painful... I swallowed bitterly and my eyes felt wet by tears. I was, let's say, supersensitive by nature and I felt terribly moved so easy by such stories. And what was the worse about it, I constantly felt guilty. Everytime I had learned about some similar tragedy I felt guilty. Especially when the story went around little boys. Well I was 21 and since my 14th year I realized there was something strange with me. It was the time when I found out that except beautiful girls I was also attracted to little boys. I was almost certain about it because there had happened something what completely reassured me in such a horrendous thought. I met a little boy... but that is just another story. Well I can assure you that nothing had happened the day. Maybe after I will have finished this story I may going to tell you what had happened but now let's just get back to this one. I sighed deeply, wiped my eyes and carried on to browse through the pile of leaves. But as the magic name of the boy and the incredible match with MY own name still appeared in my mind, I tried to check the birth-and-death-certificate records. The year of 1916... The 16th of August... three children were born in the local maternity hospital the day, two boys and a girl. Mother that bore the second boy, Rosie Gieronyme, died during the complicated childbirth! And as nobody else could take over the proper care of the baby, it was ordered to grant - it also could be called vouchsafe - a thorough care to the boy in the local orphanage institute... The local orphanage?! I never thought about it, I never have counted with it. Well, as a matter of fact, even in the article was the boy described as an orphan. The local orphanage... I wonder whether it still raises on the same place as seventy years ago? There is some children's and youth care institute in our city. If this is the same institute and if it is situated on the same place as the orphanage mentioned formerly in the news I could surely get some other information from there. It is going to be slightly complicated, I thought for myself... + + + The ancient building breathed on me with its dank and cracky millenium of long, long years. However, even though it outlived more than one hudredth of its mere existence, it was still well-kept. I felt I was out of humour a bit so I took a deep breath, held it for a second and with a relievable exhale I crossed the threshold with my right leg first... The tiny affable old lady gave me a curious look through her even tiner specs: "What do you need it for, young sir?" "Well," I stuttered, "I'd like to find out what happened to one of my ancestors... He's believed to attend and to live in this institute about seventy years ago. I'd like to know whether he's still alive..., you know..." The old lady shrugged anxiously: "Well I would be glad to help you but I have no idea how, you know, it's such a long time, well, unless... of course!" she glared suddendly, "unless we would have had a look into our archives. In fact we are having the most detailed, the most archivable archives here that have ever been founded anywhere. Well as a matter of fact it has served us since the building raises. Follow me, young sir." We went throught a long corridor with lots of doors. The end of the corridor was occupied by tall, dark colored gate. I had a hopeful feeling hidden im my soul that maybe from some of those doors a beautiful little boy would peek out curiously but I was disappointed at last. Silence glared from everywhere just like the warm pleasant sunshine weather outside so that all the little orphanage inhabitants probably were out in the garden. The tall door creaked silently and we came into the archives. "We have arrived," the old lady smiled. "Wow!" I was astonished, "what a blast!" I stared like in ecstasy on the walls in the room, completely occupied by racked, high-to-the-ceiling cases. All those racks were filled by numerous amount of thick, labelled and numbered books. The numbers on them apparently presented the year on which the appropriate files were recorded. "Well, what are we going to look for, young sir?" the old lady asked. "The years of 1916 and 1927, please." I said. The lady turned to the racks, reached out, stepped aside, reached out again and pulled out two volumes: "Well, here you are." I opened the older volume first and started to read through... Yes! It's here! A new "incomer" last-named Gieronyme recepted in October 1916, born in local maternity hospital on the 16th August 1916, he got his first name Michael, father unknown, mother died during the childbirth. I reached out for the other book. I had a brief glimpse for the first pairs of opening pages... Nothing special. And then it came! It was so unexpecting that I almost shuddered: a big black-and-white picture titled: "Return from the homeland study journey of our capital city. Date: 22th May 1927". And there, on this picture, middle row third from the right in the group of boys, my little namesake, Michael! I engraved his portrait from the tombstone into my mind so intensively that I recognized him right there. But it was not everthing at all... some pages later I found a pasted double-leaf of paper, framed in a mourning, funeral arrange... We acknowledge with a deepest sorrow that our dearest son and friend, Michael Gieronyme, left us forever on the darkest day of 16th August 1927. Now we must bid you farewell but we will never forget you! And another picture followed, this time the boy himself only. He was glaring from there right at me, with his slight smile and his eyebrows lifted a bit, he looked sort of curious, wondering, as if the camera, "laterna magica", snapshot him rather unexpected. I couldn't have enough of looking at him, the surrounding world caused no existence for me, time stopped completely. The black-and-white picture of my little namesake... Now I WAS struck, deeply, forever and very painfully. I would have never believed that I would be looking some day on such a beautiful little creature with so incredibly nice-shaped features, on an cute angel on the mere prime of his innocent, wonderful, yet such mean and insidious life when I would be able to immediately have it out with anyone, who ever dared to hurt him anyhow. I could feel tears running into my eyes again. I turned away urgently. "Have you found anything useful, young sir?" the old lady asked. "I think so," I answered, "may I have it copied somewhere around here?" "Sure, the copy machine is just over there, but please be careful with all that so that it will not damage. All those are just very old things, you know!" I assured her "of course", placed the first leaf and turned on the Ricoh... "Good-bye and thank you, lady," said I as I was about to leave, standing by the entrance gate, "you helped me so much. It looks like thanks you we have got to a quite new spot." I returned back home and soon after some other questions strated to wear me away. What if there really is some ancestor-relationship between the little Michael and me? What if I have overlooked something? I grabbed the copies of leaves from the birth-and-death records... I browsed quickly the files concerning our family... then everything about our ancestors... Rosie Gieronyme? Nothing. No spot that there is any ancestor-relationship with our family... I fell down to the chair, exhausted... It's so incredible! Such a fantastic chance! Suddendly I felt I longed to meet the boy, whose name was just like mine, who had died exactly fifty years before I was born myself and from between his and my birthday the whole 61 years elapsed. But how? How to do it for the gosh sake when we both were split from each other by such a long time? Time? T i m e ! This is it! My God, I have the chance! Our company works around a very lucrative government order, it is all about the investigation and exploration of possibilities of time-and-space travel. We have had incredible results with it. We have succeeded to transport the lab rat one minute first and then even the whole 30 minutes into the future! Concerning the past and the returns from the past, we have still experimented with that only once, however only special appliances could reassure us that the experiment did not fail. All equipment possible matched in showing that the rat really appeared on the pre-computed place. No other irrevocable and useful proof of it was obtained, the videorecord from the camera was blurred and distorted. And so we just waited the order from above to be allowed to send a human being and we were also expecting some volunteer that would be ready to realize this historical time-space travel. And I was just struck be the idea. I will try! I'm going to meet my little namesake if everything turns out well! A severe nausea enveloped all my mind, my head swam and all my conciousness was overflooded by a cheerful wave of joy... I turned on my computer... I scanned and saved all particular files onto the CD and discarded all xero-copies. Next day I came into the lab, hearing out with a stiffled joy that there was "nothing new about it" and took an usual snug perch by my terminal. I pretended to work on the emergency backup energy supply for the time machine. (In fact, I have just finished it, anyone could just launch it now.) I uploaded all data from the CD and started all those too-much-long calculations concerning time-space trajectory, start and destination places and such ones. I could not forget even a slightest detail, I chose the arrival time early in the morning of the 16th August 1927. According to the contemporary coroner report, the accident should have happen around eleven a.m., the way I obtained three hours in advance. I should count with all solid quakes possible, I should count with the unstable structure of the building thereof as well as with the appearance of all potential witnesses. As the last shift was about to finish, I gave back that I would possibly stay by the computer for a while and that I would probably work for some time at night. Within one half-an-hour the building depopulated completely and I remained in the lab completely alone. I knew very well what I am allowed to do when I set out into the past and what I am not. The only chance to preserve the time-space continuity was to stay awaiting on the place and to try to communicate with the boy before the tragedy is going to occur. Then I felt compelled to think about what to do after that, I wished to take the boy back with me so much and save him but I was afraid of it... I had to know, I was eager to get known for all the costs what is going to happen with my own present time if I would change the stream of history in the past and what am I expected to do then so that the history wouldn't change at last... I launched the simulation of the changed stream of time... I almost killed the computer for those were billions and billions of possible situations. And then it appeared! My eyes popped on the monitor, I felt a sudden hot wave all over my body as I watched in disbelief what I saw there... My wildly pounding heart banged even somewhere in my throat. I swallowed then, instantly reading the test results again and again: "Probability of the time-space corruption during the transport of the pursued object from different time-space area into the present: If some spots of presupposed death of above mentioned object will be left in the area of quadrant E38 sector A87 together with removing all spots and proofs of appearance of the time machine as well as of the person non-belonging to actual time-space zone in the area, the probability of the time-space corruption after the transport of the pursued object into the present will be less than 0.00012%" I could not believe it. The computer itself gives me a challenge to realize exactly what I have been longing so much... I was launching feverishly another and another calculations just to check everything once more and to learn about any possible things to avoid... The results were rather surprising to me. As far as I got it, I could even sneak around the city, if only I would keep an eye to uphold the prescribed process of course, if nobody else except the "pursued object" would notice the time machine, if I would not be going to "terminate anyone's life" and if I would not get in a closer touch with "anyone else than with the pursued object". It was wild. I felt I could not lost any minute. I launched the "Greenbeard", which was the secret indication of the time machine activation program. I set the time circuits for the backward travel as well as for the return into the future, I'm going to return in about a minute, meanwhile there will elapse 3 hours in the past followed by the whole long 71 years... I locked the lab, entered the cabin, closed the sheet front cover and fastened the seatbelt... + + + I left the gloomy cracked walls of the building that were surrounding me and in which accompanion I felt so much out of humour. I breathed out with relief when I got outside and then I started to slowly summon some thoughts about what I was going to do next. I had a huge lot of time left actually. But as I moved aside, there suddenly sounded an ominous, increasing rumble. I stunned speechless as my eyes shrieked with horror, then I turned rapidly. A piece of mossy, brick-orange tile tore off from the rooftop, rode a long rattle-rumbling way down, copying the angled surface of the roof and hit the ground afterwards with a hollow crush. Yes, there was no doubt about it, there in the factory, a lethal time-bomb had been already ticking. Then I startled: what if only my presence in here is enough to change the past? What if the ceiling is going to crush down sooner? Or later? Or somewhere else? Is the time machine in any danger then? But no, the calculations prooved enough that there should not happen something like that. But, the dull piece of the torn-off tile as well as its ominous rattle bit my mind so much that I urged to get back to the time machine and check all the calculations one more time... Yes, everything was all right... the building stability wasn't neither affected nor weightened. I wiped the icy-cold drops of sweat from my forehead... Well, that could do! Then I had a brief glimpse to check the energy supplies. Well, so far so good, only 35 percent of main supply exhausted, there have been left 65 percent for the way back including any unexpected energetic outcomes and then still the whole roundy-round 100 percent in the backup system. I rubbed my hands together... I got out of the cabin and stepped outside. Now I'm supposed to think about what to do at the critical time when the boy would appear in here. I sat down onto a flat stone lying aside the road that led around the building and, having my head covered in my hands I pretended I was thinking seriously. I could not find any suitable idea however, even though I was sure about that I couldn't just appear simply in front of the boy saying: "Hi! I'm from the future and I came to save you!" Suddenly an unpleasantly fast approaching sound of footsteps tore my thoughts off and in an instant a shape of a little boy, not even 100 yards from me, emerged from the bushes at the road's bend! What?! It cannot be him at all! Immediately, I darted away disappearing in the factory hall. I fell down onto the chair of the time machine, breathing heavily: It's not possible! It's not possible at all! Shouldn't there have been more than two hours left before the boy was going to appear? What a mistake the coroner made as he was determining the presupossed time of death! But there wasn't much to do about this one, the boy was here. Let's hope he hasn't noticed me yet. And is it really him? I inconspicuously sticked my head out of the cabin. My sight to the opened factory gate (or rather to the ruins of it) was obstructed by a massive pillar that now served me well however, like an effective cover. Now I was dodging instantly behind the fat rounded pillar pretending desperately than neither me nor the big gizmo-gadgetty construction called the time machine is here... In front of the sunlit opening that was bordered by wide-stredched, almost torn-up gate, a dark silhouette appeared. I held my breath, stunning. The boy stepped a bit further and the glaring sunbeams lit his face. My heart rate increased. It was him! What now? He seemed however as if he hasn't noticed anything for he entered and continued carelessly further inside. As he approached almost several feet from me, he glanced around, searching, then moved a bit further up to the pile of iron scrap nearby and reached into his pockets pulling something out. I could not see what he was doing there so I sneaked as silently as possible, trying s-l-o-w-l-y and ca-re-ful-ly sit down back on the chair. A rather reasonable plan started to grow in my mind. I thought about this: as soon as the boy is going to concentrate on his stuff, whatever he does there, I will start the generators, just at very low rev rate so that it would not be that loud, pretending I have just landed. I only hoped that it won't startle the boy so that he would run away. Then I suddenly heard a silent cracking noise, right form the point where the boy stood. I carefully peeked out again from behind the pillar and stunned: the boy held a matchbox in his hand, he scratched a match-stick and lit a cigarette! So THIS was the thing you had in your pocket! Oh boy, you shall never forget that cigarette of yours! I silently sat back on the chair and with certain amount of malicious joy I clicked the tumbler under the "Turbo" label up and then I switched it swiftly back down. The generator quaked, roared loudly, the turbine inside let out a short wailing sound and then from all that grunt-rumbling fortissimo there has been left only a silent decrescendo of a whizz belonging to the slowly descending revs. And the boy? As he just inhaled the smoke from the cigarette and blew it relishly out through his nose, a loud rumbling roar and wailing, sounds he has never heard before, exploded right next to him. Shocked, he let both the cigarettes and the matches fall down, scattering everything on the floor but he never seemed to notice. With an expresion of horror in his scared face he turned back staring at the puff of dust slowly descending on the floor causing to disclose a metal monster that has never been before a while at all! And what was even worse, some humanoid-like creature staggered out of the monster, well it looked like a human but it was very strangely dressed, it coughed and it brushed off the dust from its clothes! The boy felt his ice-cold drops of sweat running down his back, he felt he wanted to yell, scream, run away head over heels but in such state of shock he has just experienced he could only stood there speechless and unable to move as if being frozen on the place... And that way I also found him there. A biblic salty-pillar. A petrified boy. I even felt I was a bit sorry of him. So I mimicked a rather surprised expression in my face, moving one step back at the same time. It looked as if this plucked up his courage, because the boy suddenly asked in a shivering voice: "Who are you?" I tried to grin as spontaneously and nonchalantly as possible, with an expression full of optimism and an infectious joy, to help the boy get rid of his apprehension and I exclaimed proudly, imitating the voice of the country fair caller and circus director: "Hello! I'm a traveller! A time traveller! My name is..." then I stopped, embarassed, "well, my name isn't that important. What is important to me however, is the date today. What do we have the date today, young man?" A completely nonchalant intonation of my voice affected. "The 16th of August," peeped the boy noticeably louder. "Marvellous," I exclaimed, "and what year do we have now?" "Nineteen twenty-seven." "Oh, Lord! Great! Excellent!", I cheered, "what's your name, little one?" The boy dropped his sight a bit, then said silently: "Michael. Michael Gieronyme." "Splendid," I said (and felt an marvellous wave of joy in my mind), laying my hand onto the lustrous massive skeleton of the time machine, "well then, Michael, let me here introduce the XTR-2000 to you, a brand-new prototype of the time machine. I'm not sure if you are going to believe me and, in fact, I don't care about it at all, but you should know, that I have just returned with it the whole 71 years back in time, for both of us come from the year of nineteen ninety-eight!" The boy dropped his jaw. His eyes widened with awe and I continued: "If you were talking the truth and if we now really have the year of 1927, then you have just witnessed the historically very first travel in time and space for more than 20 years!" "Wow!" breathed out the boy, glaring. "Yes, there is no doubt about it. It's the true time machine. Do you want to visit the ancient times of pyramids, pharaohs and mummies? Do you want to see how the world will be like in the next 100 years? Do you want to experience the two years of vacation and then get back the same minute you started? No problem!" To tell the truth, I wasn't sure if the boy was ever noticing my country-fair-like babble and prattle, because he almost absorbed the glistening silhouette of the time machine with his glaring eyes, with that absolutely sincere, honest, joyful awe, that you would be possible to experience only at boys close to his age (it's the kind of awe I've always loved so much). Finally he turned to me and asked shyly: "Can I...? Could I look at it closer?" The question was spoken rather uncertain and embarassed but his beaming eager boy-eyes almost exclaimed it in an longing hope. He got me. Under his pleading look I haven't any slightest chance to resist (and in fact I never wanted to). I only advised: "Of course you can have a look, but please don't touch anything in there!" The boy darted nimbly onto the seat, turning and cocking his head in all directions, with an unceasing interest he looked at all those switches, indicators and dials. Suddenly he stopped: "What's the stab-le struc-tu-re of the buil-ding? And what's the pur-su-ed ob-ject?" I stiffened. My heart began to pound frantically... The results of the last measurements still left on the monitor! Oh God, no! But the biggest shock still awaited me. "And what shall happen round eleven o'clock?" an innocent but crushing oathsome question followed. The boy turned to me with the simple, still glaring look and with a smile, that froze quickly on his lips, as he noticed my pale expression that I wasn't able to cover even if I desperately wanted to. Hardly to control myself, I swallowed and breathed out: "You know, Michael, there are things around the world, you should not rather know about. And this one, this one is a very serious thing. It is so serious that I'm afraid you will not believe me, that you will call me a liar, because..." I dropped my sight and then I suddendly fixed my eyes at his face: "...because this thing does concern especially YOU, Michael." The boy paled white. "Your name IS Michael, isn't it?" "Yes," he uttered. "Michael Gieronyme..." "Y-yes," he stammered. "You were born... on the 16th August 1916..." the boy was speechless. "...you cannot remember your Mommy because she died as you were born and then they gave you into the orphanage, where you were living until now, is that right?" Michael could only manage to stare in disbelief, he wasn't able even to nod. When the primary shock and panic was gone, he asked in awe: "How come you know all this?" "Well I come from the future. We who come from future, we know everything about the past. Or almost everything. And this way I also know everything about you. And I also know what is about to happen in here round eleven o'clock." Then I decided to bet everything on the last card. "I shouldn't rather tell you about it," I hesitated, "I'm not sure whether you would be strong enough to bear that." "I'm not a chicken-heart, you know," Michael objected. "Well then," I sighed, "I don't know what you were up to in this abandoned factory (the boy's ears noticeably reddened), but you should know that the ceiling in here is about to crush down in a while. And what is the worst about it," I continued, "the ceiling should crush down on you. And that's why I came here. I came to save you!" At the same time the well-known rattle-rumbling sound appeared, this time it didn't cease, however, on the contrary, it grew in loudness and power... with an jerky, lacerate sound a huge, heavy piece of the ceiling vault tore off, it whistled the dozen feet way down and, crushing in an deafening bang, it hit the floor very close to where we both stood. If the boy would have stayed on the original place, he would be surely killed on the spot. Michael jumped away, panicked. It was just 9:08 a.m. The history has changed. This time... ONE MORE WARNING: This is and adult-oriented story involving several kinds of cross-generational relationship between a young male and a MINOR boy. NO RAPE & COERCION. NO ABUSIVES. NO UNWILLING PARTICIPANTS. NO GRAPHICS VIOLENCE. NO DANGEROUS ACTS. NO READERS UNDER 18 ALLOWED. This story involves a very special content for a very special minority of people who like to read such stories. If this isn't your case, please don't read any more. You have been warned.