Date: Fri, 19 Nov 2021 05:32:16 +0000 From: Art Subject: Time Traveling Teen C-1 Please keep this site alive by donating to Nifty. http://donate.nifty.org Remember, this story is fiction. The author does not recommend you try this stuff at home (Unless you absolutely must) Time Traveling Teen C-1 Very few people can wrap their heads around the life of a time traveler. First, they think the process needs to be understood completely. Does a car driver need to explain how an atomic particle car engine works to drive a car three feet above the roadway? Second, they believe the parallax affect, which means anything changed in the past will change the future, is a truism. Nope. If I traveled to the past and tried to kill an ancestor, say my multiple past great-grandfather, the continuum would shift, preventing me from doing so. How do I know this? The Masters sent me on just such a mission to show me I could not kill an ancestor. I tried. I couldn't. How? I never learned. They told me that knowledge was not taught to travelers. They told me to just follow orders. Third, they believe travelers age like other humans. Untrue. Once accepted for traveling, our DNA becomes changed, so we remain the same age as when we graduated and became officially travelers. We no longer age. We can die if we screw up an assignment or encounter a violent situation we cannot escape. Other than those situations, we live almost forever or until we ask to be released. I had some leave time accumulated, so I booked a week at a resort for teens. I liked the resorts that made clothing optional and reserved a place for boys like me. My name is Trevor Thompson. I am fourteen. I am a gay time traveler. Most of my class of 06-2560 considers me experienced. I guess. Two hundred travels in over five hundred years must have taught me something. The sun felt warm on my nude body as I idly stroked my boner. I never heard the messenger approach. The soft sand hid his arrival. "You have a mission. It just came up, and the board says to tell you this one has a priority one emergency rating." "Shit. Shit. Shit. Why do I always get these high-level assignments?" Then, realizing he was only a messenger, I said, "Sorry. Lead the way." I wished I had time to take his lovely naked ten-year-old body to my room and we would have passionate sex. I knew the rules. At ten, he had completed the first phase of travel training. Veteran travelers could not touch these boys. I knew girl travelers existed. They did not interest me. He showed me the portal to headquarters. I had no time to dress; this being a priority one emergency. Just before I stepped through the portal, the boy wished me good travels. I entered and arrived in the assignment room, naked, of course, and full of sand. Two masters sat at the assignment desk, smiling at me. "Sorry to hustle you from your vacation. We have this assignment that requires your age and special talents." A globe enveloped me. In less than two heartbeats, I learned the details of my assignment. The United States of America, mid-1950s. I needed to contact an Alfie Thompson. The masters had positioned details of my task at the house where I would stay. The masters had to arrange pseudo parents for me. These travelers were pre-positioned as my caregivers. In the era to which I would travel; I was a minor and needed guardians. I did not like guardians as sometimes they thought they could control me. I would remind them of my status and sometimes they listened. Those that did not pay attention, I reported upon my return. The masters usually did nothing with my complaint. Pre-positioned parents were difficult to find and train. "Can I speak, sir?" The master nodded. "Did you give me understanding parents this time?" He ignored my question. "Shower. Draw period clothes and be ready to travel at 1500." At the appointed time, I appeared at the time portal dressed in jeans, a white T-shirt, and wearing a pair of canvas shoes that laced to my ankle. A package of cigarettes sat rolled on top of my arm. The period dresser assured me this was a finishing touch. He added if I wanted to look the part of a teen boy from that era, I should let an unlit cigarette dangle from my lips. I knew my selection had little to do with my traveling experience, as it did with my grooming habits. I liked my head hair long. The stylist arranged it in what he said was the style of the period. He called it a DA. I never removed my body hair or even trimmed it, which would allow me to blend in with the youth of the period if I ever needed to be naked with them. I hoped I would get many chances to do so. I preferred to be natural with plenty of pubic bush and pit hair. I had my cheek and neck hair removed permanently to keep me looking youthful. I kept the line of fuzz under my nose, which I had altered so as not to grow longer. I liked to lick my tongue over it. I flexed my muscles as I waited for the lights of the portal to glow green. I liked to stay physically fit. One never knew when strength would be required. I had trained, and I was prepared. I waited. I did not speculate on what waited on the other side before I traveled. I had enough experience not to be concerned. All would be as it should be when I stepped into my assigned time period. The haze in the portal changed. I saw a park, maybe a city park. The trees waved and I could see birds in the air. No large animals or humans were in view. I could hear the hum of cars from that time period. Such a waste of resources, I thought. I waited, my pack on my back. I had double checked its contents. The all-important emergency rescue device lay hidden, disguised as a radio of that era. I swallowed as I prepared to do another travel. The lights glowed green. I stepped into the 1950s in the United States of America. Comments and suggestions at: acgib1943@protonmail.com. Donations to Nifty help support these stories.