Damnd1

No Signs of Life

Chapter 1

A teenager gets to fuck the boy of his dreams, but it comes at a massive price

I crouched behind my dream boy and worked my cock slowly into his tight hole. I wondered if he had ever had a prick up there before. I very much doubted it. I expect he was still a virgin like me. I wanted to ask him but I knew that he would not answer.

For some reason I expected him to be cold inside but he was warm; more than warm, hot. I had fantasised about this boy for so long, but now that we were together, I doubted I would ever risk asking him to suck my dick, so this was the only heat from him I would ever get to enjoy around my dick.

As I started to thrust my lubed cock in and out, he gave no sign that he was uncomfortable, or that he was enjoying it. I looked up at the mirror in front of us. His eyes stared straight ahead, unfocussed. His mouth was slightly open, his expression blank and dispassionate. I wondered if he even cared that I was fucking him. I didn't care that I was taking him without his consent, but his complete silence was unsettling. I wondered if I would ever get used to it. I would learn to. I had lost so much that getting to play with Ellis seemed like fate's way of compensating me.

One month earlier

"Would you like coffee mom?"

My question was met with silence. A chill ran down my spine but I forced myself to look at my mother. She was staring blankly ahead of her. That was how quick it happened. One minute we were having a normal conversation over breakfast – as normal as it could be given our circumstances – and the next she was gone. I couldn't tell if she was dead gone, or just zoned out, like someone lost in thought.

I lost my shit. I shouted, slapped her face, shook her, and desperately tried to bring her back to me, but she had gone the same way as my father nine days before. That was what was so terrifying about the Blank Virus. There was no warning, no antidote, and no vaccination. One second a person was perfectly normal, and the next they were not.

Blank had only existed for a couple of months. At first we thought it was bio-engineered by the Russians, but when 90 percent of the Russian population succumbed in just a week, suspicion switched to the Chinese, the North Koreans, and then ISIS, but nobody was safe.

North Korea accused South Korea, and a huge army was despatched to wage war. South Korea and the Allies rallied even larger armies to defend, but long before the North Korean army got close, its numbers – and those of the leadership directing them, were decimated by the virus, and the war fizzled out before it had even begun.

That was the weird thing about the virus, it followed no clear pattern. The North Korean army suffered almost a near 100 percent contagion, but so did remote jungle tribes in South America, and well nourished cities in Europe. There were no genetic, weather, or cultural correlations between the hot spots, and those that succumbed more slowly.

After the first couple of weeks, suggestions that the virus was created by aliens started to seem less ridiculous.

***

For about 30 percent of the victims, the virus simply blanked them. They lost all autonomous thought. Inevitably, the virus was dubbed the Zombie Virus, and some people were so freaked out by its effects that they took to killing any victims that they found.

But the victims were not zombies. They didn't move, they didn't attack, they didn't make noises, they just waited, standing, sitting, and laying down, in whatever position they were in when the virus struck them. But they could respond to commands. There was obviously still basic comprehension, but no ability or desire to make autonomous decisions.

Then there was the other 70 percent. My father was one of them. At first I thought of them as the unlucky ones. They didn't simply lose their higher brain functions but their lower functions too. One second they were alive and well, and the next their hearts simply stopped pumping and their lungs stopped moving.

In the early days, those who were unaffected tried to support the 30 percent. We took them to hospitals, we fed them, looked after them just like we would for any invalid. The infected were initially brought to care centres: schools, hospitals, churches, anywhere large enough to care for lots of people at once. But as the ratio of infected to uninfected rose, the task became more and more difficult, until ultimately it was impossible, even if we were still willing.

Fears grew that concentrating the infected like that increased the risk for the rest of us, and people gradually ceased to turn up to help, returning to their own homes, to care for their own loved ones.

Moreover, we quickly recognised that the global farming industry had collapsed overnight, and we were going to have to tend to our own needs. Mom and me started planting in our back garden, and we poured our energies into that, as well as building water collection systems.

***

Mom was gone just like dad. For the first day I laid her on the couch, hoping that she was simply blanked not dead. I put a light sheet over her and talked to her trying to get her to react, but she could not. I slept on the living room floor that night, afraid to abandon her, and even more terrified that I would also be afflicted.

The next  morning after a fitful sleep I awoke and immediately rose and looked at my mother. Her face had started to discolour. Pale, with veins showing. I went to the bathroom and returned with a cosmetics mirror. I held it to her nose then looked at it. Nothing. No sign of moisture. I tried to lift her hand but her arm was stiff.

Crying all the while, I went to the front yard and dug a shallow hole then buried her, and when it was done I had never felt so alone in my life. 99.9 percent of the neighbourhood was dead or blanked. Almost certainly everybody I knew. I was one in a thousand. And with the TV, radio, phones and internet down, I had no way to check other than going around to the houses of the people I knew.

I dug up flowers from our yard and transferred them to the top of my mother's grave. They looked too bright for what they masked, but my mom deserved to rest covered in beauty.

For the next three weeks, I tried to distract myself by working on our garden. I dug up the back lawn, and converted every spare inch into plant beds.

Although he was not a full on prepper, my father had always had a little of that mindset, so we had enough canned and dried food to feed the three of us well for three to six months. Alone, if I rationed it, I could probably extend that to several years. More than enough time to get the crops growing.

The first week the virus had started, my father headed not for the food stores, but for the garden centre. He had the foresight to recognise what would be really important. He bought hundreds of seeds and young plants home, but before he ever saw the benefit, he was gone.

As I hit the start of the fourth week after mom passed away, I had started to branch out, exploring the houses of my immediate neighbours. There was no chance that I dared to expend the energy of keeping them alive, but I wanted to discover if any of them had escaped infection. I also wanted to increase my stores of food.

I would knock, and when there was no answer, I would call through the letterbox, then explore the rear of the house, before issuing a final warning and breaking in. Most houses were already empty, and I took whatever food I found. I wasn't sure how long you could eat canned food, but if it remained edible, towards the end of the fourth week, I had collected enough to last well over a decade.

I ferried it back to my house and took it down to the den. I was careful to hide it behind furniture in case any other survivors happened by. I also left a dated letter on the front and back doors warning others that the house was occupied.

In some houses, occupants remained. One, rarely more than two people. Most dead but some blanked. The dead people were a tragic reminder of my own loss, laying, rotting wherever they had fallen, but the blanked ones were worse. Some were on the verge of death, others were still quite healthy. I debated killing them rather than leaving them until their bodies gave in from lack of water and they died. What if they still had thoughts inside their heads? Feelings? And were simply trapped inside unresponsive bodies? But then what if I started killing them and a cure was found, or relatives returned?

In the end, it was a moot question because I didn't have it in me to shoot these living zombies. I took what I found and left them untouched. And I had nightmares about them, waiting around to die, unmoving night and day in their silent homes turned mausoleums. One night I awoke screaming to find my bed surrounded by all the people I had left, silently standing. I blinked and leapt up, bashing my head on the wall behind my bed, and as I blinked, the vision returned to the silent pitch darkness of a world without power.

***

This morning, I found him. The only person that I was willing to save. I had seen him around school for months and I had wanted more than anything to get to know him. More than to know him. But I was afraid to speak to him. He was two years younger than me, and it would have been weird if I had simply befriended him, much less start a relationship. At that age, two years was a lot, and my classmates would have commented, and in the gossipy social cauldron of the school, I could get a reputation that was impossible to live down.

I had always known he lived in my general part of town, but I never knew exactly where until now. As I approached his home, I saw two graves in the front yard. It reminded me with a painful pang, of my own loss. I went through my usual routine before cautiously going around the side of the house. In the back yard was another grave. Much smaller. It caught me by surprise. I sat with a bump and started crying, choked at the tragedy of it all.

I almost walked away and left the house unchecked, but when I got my emotions under control I entered. As always I went through the house double checking, before starting to loot supplies that might be needed to keep someone else alive.

I entered the living room, and that was when I saw it: a photograph of two bare-chested boys in shorts. Both had very light brown hair. A boy of perhaps 5 to 7 with a joyful expression on his face riding the shoulders of the other. That would account for the grave out back. The other boy was laughing as he looked at the photographer.

My heart jumped. It was Ellis. Almost as quickly, my heart plummeted again. There were two graves outside and nobody home. Ellis was likely gone like everyone else. But I had to be sure. I walked through the house. Up the stairs to the bedrooms. The first was clearly the younger boy's. It would never be used again. Opposite was a communal bathroom. I walked to the end of the short hall and looked through the open door. Bright early summer sunlight streamed through and filled the empty room with its large double bed. I was struck by the contrast between the bright sunniness of the room, and the tragedy that its emptiness represented.

I walked to the room at the other end. The door was shut. I opened it and there he was, sitting in a black and blue gaming chair at student desk. A comic book rested in his lap and he was staring straight ahead.

I swallowed hard.

"Ellis?"

No response.

"Ellis can you hear me?"

Nothing.

I approached and felt him to see if he was still alive. He was warm and there was no visible decay, but I could smell urine. I looked down at his lap. His blue shorts showed the stain of dried urine. He blinked slowly. I could see his chest rising and falling slowly. I tried again more urgently.

"Ellis, it's Will, from school. Are you still with me?"

He didn't move.

I begged him.

"Ellis, please look at me. Are you still alive?"

I needed him to be conscious. Not because he was the source of desires, but because I needed another sentient human being to ease my loneliness.

He turned his head in my direction and his eyes focussed on my face. His expression showed nothing.

"Ellis, please talk to me."

His mouth opened, but then as though realising he didn't know HOW to talk any more, he closed it again slowly.

"Ellis, I want you to stand up."

He did as he was told.

"Follow me."

Again he complied.

We got to the stairs and I went first. He looked down the stairs, then stepped down. I looked up ready to help and on the third step, he missed his footing and tumbled forwards. There was no look of panic on his face, no shout of alarm, no hands thrown up to save himself.

I reached out and caught him. Then I carry-dragged him the rest of the way. At the bottom of the stairs I put him back onto his feet, and he followed as I lead him to the kitchen. I went through the pantry, stuffing as many cans into my backpack as possible. I noticed a packet of Froot Loops. I wondered who ate them, him or his little brother. Then I wondered if he had blanked before his brother had died. I hoped so. I didn't want him to have endured that pain. Then I realised that there were three graves. He must have seen all three of his loved ones die. My heart ached for him, and for myself again.

I had as much as I could carry. I prepared to leave, then I realised he would need clothes. I was a little larger than him.

"Stay here," I said.

He showed no sign of acknowledgement but he didn't follow as I raced back upstairs to his bedroom. There was a backpack by the desk. I emptied it with pointless care onto his desk. Schoolbooks he would never need. Study he would never use. As I emptied his life onto his desk, I noticed a book already on the desk. A journal. I opened it and flicked through to the last entry.

So lonely since dad died. The last straw. Don't know how much longer I can keep going. I can't even go out the back door any more since 3;

The sentence was unfinished. I knew what Ellis wasn't saying. His little brother. So happy in the photo. Now just a mound of dirt in the back yard.

I went through his drawers and picked out a selection of clothes that I thought he would have chosen for himself. A cross between beach and skater style. He wore briefs. Sexy. I grabbed half a dozen pairs and stuffed them into the pack, then ran back down to the kitchen. Ellis was standing exactly where I had left him.

I picked up the larger food pack.

"Come on Ellis."

I walked towards the front door to spare him the sight of his brother's grave. For a moment, I actually considered going out of the back in case the sight might trigger some sign of emotion, but it seemed too cruel and heartless, even to a near zombie.

I reached the front door and turned. Ellis wasn't there. I walked back to the kitchen. He was still standing.

"Come on Ellis," I said in a louder voice.

He still didn't move. Maybe he didn't understand?

"Follow me Ellis."

He turned and walked towards me. I was going to have to be very precise with my language.

As we passed through the front door, he tripped over the step and landed on his knees. I reached down and helped him to his feet. His knees were skinned and over the next hour would grow to show deep bruises. It must have hurt but he showed no sign.

We passed the graves that I presumed were his parents and headed back to my house.

Ellis had no trouble keeping up. At first I walked slowly, expecting him to shuffle like they did in the old zombie movies, but the more I increased my pace, the faster he walked. Strange that he could walk so confidently yet have such trouble with a little thing like steps. Then I realised why. His gaze was fixed on me. I had ordered him to follow me and that was exactly what he was doing.

We got back to my house and I opened the front door.

"Come inside Ellis. Be careful of the step."

I pointed at the small step. He looked down and stepped over it without a problem. I steered him to my living room.

"Wait here."

I went to the den and emptied the food backpack, then I returned to Ellis. He stood where I had had left him, breathing calmly.

"Let's get you cleaned up," I said, talking to him as though he understood every word. "Take your shorts off."

He pulled his shorts down. His underpants came a little way down as well, revealing his genitals, but he made no move to cover himself. I had wanted for so long to see this boy naked, and now here it was happening casually without fanfare. It was almost an anticlimax, except for the possibilities that lay ahead.

I stared at his nudity. His cock had been curled inside briefs that had gotten wet then dried on him. It was small and the wrinkled skin of the shaft was a little sticky looking, forming rings along its short length. He was circumcised, with a rounded scrotum nestled beneath. He had a patch of light brown pubic hair. I was surprised at how small and neat his bush was.

I felt a momentary wave of shame wash over me for looking at him like this, taking advantage of his mental incapacity, but I immediately brushed it aside. This was a whole new world where the old rules didn't apply, and without me, he would be sitting alone in his bedroom, paralysed, with nothing but the sound of his own breathing as he slowly dehydrated and died.

His shorts were on the floor. He stood up straight and made no move to pull his underpants back up.

I couldn't help myself; I stepped forwards and cupped his compact genitals.

Looking into his face I said, "I've wanted us to be friends for so long Ellis. I wish it wasn't like this, but I'm so glad you're here."

I gave his genitals a tender squeeze. He stared straight ahead, his expression unmoving.

Chapter 2

The first day I discovered a number of things about Ellis

The first thing I discovered was that I had to be very specific about the instructions I gave him. Even the slightest ambiguity seemed to short circuit his brain and he would either do something unexpected, or do nothing. It reminded me of an episode of Futurama where Bender made a deal with the devil, but the devil was constantly looking for ways to trick Bender by misinterpreting Bender's wishes. At least with Ellis there was no malice, but I quickly learned that I had to pre-screen whatever I was going to say to him to ensure that it had no ambiguity.

The second thing I discovered was that without counter instructions, he would do whatever I instructed him to do until he was unable to. I tested this by getting him to jog on the spot. He continued running, getting warmer and warmer, and more and more out of breath, until I stopped him 20 minutes later when I was afraid he was going to pass out from heat exhaustion.

I discovered the third thing whilst I was washing him down. He'd stripped naked as I had instructed, and had followed me into the back yard. I was washing him down with rainwater collected in a barrel, when he started to shit. With no warning or hesitation. It simply fell from him. I was a little disgusted.

"Stop that!" I said, but he continued. "Stop shitting Ellis!" I repeated more urgently, and he quickly complied as though suddenly realising what he was doing.

"I don't ever want you to shit or pee unless I tell you to Ellis. Do you understand?"

His expression never changed nor did he say anything.

"Clap if you understand me Ellis."

He remained motionless. I tried some variations but I never managed to find a way for him to communicate his understanding. It was as though his inputs all worked perfectly, but there was a short-circuit in his outputs and his ability to reason.

I carefully steered him around the faeces he'd dropped, then finished washing him down. I took him inside and lead him to the ground-level bathroom.

"Sit on the toilet Ellis."

The lid was already up. My mom hated that but 3;

Ellis sat on the toilet. He was glistening from the water I had washed him with.

"Now you can use the toilet Ellis."

Nothing happened.

"Take a shit and a pee Ellis."

Again nothing. I was going to try to find a more specific way of repeating my command when I heard the sound of his faeces hitting the water. It was followed soon after by the sound of urine.

I watched, until the noises stopped.

"Okay Ellis, use that toilet paper beside you and clean your behind."

He took some sheets and wiped his ass.

"Drop the paper into the bowl."

He did as he was told.

Progress was painfully slow but at least I wasn't going to spend the rest of my life wiping his ass.

When he was finished I ordered him back to the living room and dried him, then I handed him clean clothes and ordered him to dress. He did so with all the skill and attention to detail of a seven year old. It's dumb I know, but seemed disrespectful to leave him in wonky clothes. I straightened his shirt, and zip his shorts up.

"Sit on the couch Ellis."

He did as he was told.

I went into the kitchen and poured some water from a 5 gallon [~8 liter] plastic jug into two cups. I gulped one down and took the other to Ellis.

That was when I discovered the fourth and most important thing, although it was more a confirmation, rather than a discovery. That he could eat and drink.

I held out the plastic beaker and said, "Here Ellis, take this beaker of water. Drink it."

I had deliberately chosen a plastic beaker in case he dropped it. He accepted it and drank it in surprisingly careful sips. I don't know how long he'd been sitting at his desk when I'd found him; hours or days, but he showed no urgency to finish the water.

I went and pulled a high protein snack bar from the cupboard. I opened the wrapper and took the bar out.

"Eat this," I said handing it to him.

He accepted the bar and ate it with equal lack of haste. At least he wasn't going to starve to death.

When he had finished, I ordered him to follow me out to the back garden. I pointed to a padded garden chair.

"Sit in that chair Ellis."

He did as he was told, and sat with robot-like patience awaiting my next command. I knew if I never gave him another, he would sit there until he died. It was an overwhelmingly gloomy prospect.

I worked on the garden for a few hours until the sky started to change colour. I looked at the sky line, the sun was getting low, and the sky was a beautiful graduation from dark yellow to pink to azure blue, with a smattering of low clouds, dark blue/grey coloured but not stormy.

Before the world stopped, I would have been out on my mountain bike with my friends, or playing basketball, or doing my homework, or playing video games, or watching videos on youtube, or as a last resort, watching TV. Now all of those things were meaningless.

Well, I suppose not all. I could still go for a solitary ride, and the games would be a fantastic way to pass the time if power was not such a valuable commodity.

We actually had a generator and a couple of hundred gallons of gas including what was in the tanks of my parents' cars. At some point, I planned to go around the neighbourhood and siphon as many cars as possible, but it was a relatively low priority.

There were also three dozen packs of batteries. I'd given up on the radio, but the batteries were enough to power a small set of speakers that I connected to my phone sometimes and listened to music. Only in the house though. I was afraid of attracting attention. I'd seen too many post apocalyptic movies: The Road, Mad Max, and Walking Dead, to feel safe around other survivors. Or at least, safe enough to want them to discover me unawares.

Truth be told, far from the explosions, hordes of rampaging rape gangs, and cities burning to the ground in the movies, the entire world had been almost completely silent for the past two weeks. I'd heard some bangs from the direction of the city a while back, and they might have been gun shots, but there was only a short series – less than six, then silence. Well, mankind silence. There were still birds, and I'd found some pet mice in one house. I took the cage to the back door and released them into the back garden. I'd also seen a couple of cats wandering around, but I was more concerned about feral dogs or wild animals.

I looked at my watch. 8.15. It would be getting dark in half an hour or so. I put down my tools, and headed towards the house. Ellis was sitting in the chair looking straight ahead, as motionless as he had been ever since he sat down. I wondered if he got uncomfortable or worse still, suffered cramp.

"Ellis, go into the house and sit on the couch."

He rose silently and walked inside and I followed him.

When I was certain that he was seated, I returned to the kitchen. I had set up a large camping stove, and I cooked a small meal for us both. Burgers and pitta bread. I remembered seeing on a youtube video that it was almost indestructible and lasted forever, but my supply would not last for many months, especially now that two of us were eating it.

I poured a couple of glasses of water and flavoured them with orange Gatorade.

I walked into the living room. There was an adjoining dining area.

"Come and sit at the table with me Ellis."

He sat in one of the chairs. I placed the food in front of him. His eyes continued staring ahead. He must have been hungry. Apart from the energy bar he hadn't eaten in at least 10 hours. I wondered if he cared, or if he had an appetite. I put cutlery by his plate.

"Eat the food Ellis. Hope you're not a vegetarian!"

It seemed like a very minor concern. On one hand, being a vegetarian was a luxury from the old world that paled compared to the task of surviving, but on the other hand, it might be the future for both of us. I didn't have a clue how to hunt, and I had no intention of wandering around in the forest alone in any case. There were bears and cougars out there, and even if there weren't, the last thing I needed was an injury away from home.

I watched Ellis eating with none of the gusto that a boy breaking a ten hour fast should show. I ate along with him. I was happy to have the company. Just the mere proximity of another living person was comforting, but his total silence was unsettling. Well, not total silence. That was what made it weird. He was making all the usual munching and smacking noises of a boy eating dinner, but there was none of the chatter that I was used to with mom and 3;

I felt the sadness pressing in on me. I had to knock myself out of it before it overwhelmed me again. I went and got my phone and my speakers. I put the speakers on the table, connected the phone, and pressed play. The music started playing and for just a moment, Ellis' hand paused on its way to his mouth.

"Ellis?"

Nothing.

"Ellis can you hear me?"

Nothing. He continued eating. I looked into his eyes. He neither reacted to my examination, nor changed the direction of his gaze which was directed down towards his food.

I scrutinised him for two minutes, desperate for signs of consciousness but there was nothing.

He finished his food.

"Drink the juice Ellis."

He did as he was told and we finished together.

"Go sit on the couch Ellis."

I felt the constant need to ensure that he was comfortable. If I was him, and I was trapped, conscious inside a body that would not allow me to communicate, I'd be grateful for that kindness.

I took the plates out to the kitchen, leaving the music on to keep Ellis company. In the kitchen I wiped the plates clean with a dry tea towel. Water was too valuable to waste each time I ate.

I walked back into the living room and turned off the music. I turned my phone off completely. There was no point leaving it on standby, and it would only waste its precious charge.

It was time for bed. In the past, I would stay up till 10, 11 even midnight some days, but without power, there were no lights, and I didn't want to waste cooking gas on the Tilley lamp that we used to take when we went camping. In any case, I'd have been too afraid of broadcasting my existence to anyone.

"Follow me carefully Ellis," I said, and headed upstairs.

He rose to his feet and followed me up. I lead him to my parents' room. Inside, I said, "Take your clothes off Ellis."

He stripped right down to his skin. I looked at his small dick. I expect he would have been self conscious about it if he'd been seen in the showers at school, and now he was standing here naked as a jaybird. I felt my dick stir in my shorts.

I smiled. I didn't mean for him to strip totally nude, but there seemed to be no good reason to ask him to put anything back on.

I lead him to the bathroom.

"Pee Ellis."

He held his dick and peed, then stopped without shaking. His urine was dark orange in the bowl. Maybe he'd been sitting in his house waiting to die for longer than I thought. Or maybe he had simply sweated it out. I'd have to be careful; I didn't want him getting dehydrated. I ran down and half filled another beaker in the growing gloom, then brought it back up and ordered him to drink it.

We returned to my parents room; his room now. I'd never be able to sleep in it. Too painful. The room was saturated with the smell of them. My mother in particular.

I folded back the summer covers.

"Get in bed Ellis."

He obeyed, and I pulled the covers over him.

"Close your eyes and go to sleep."

He shut his eyes. I leaned forwards and kissed him on the cheek.

"I wish you were here under better circumstances. Night, night Ellis. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

It was a childish saying my mom used when I was 5 or 6. It always brought a smile to my face. I wondered why my mind had dredged it up now.

I backed out of the room and shut his door, then peed and went to my room.

I shut my door and pushed a chair against it, then I climbed into bed as the last of the light faded leaving my room in the kind of darkness that had not been seen in North America for over a century.

I thought about Ellis down the hallway, and not for the first time, I fantasised about him as I jacked myself off. I came hard, cleaned up, and fell into a sound sleep.

Chapter 3

Will is caring for Ellis in the house he now lives in alone

The next morning I awoke with a strange sense of optimism. It was the first time I had dared to consider the future with anything but a sense of foreboding. I got out of bed and moved the chair from the door. I opened it and glanced at the other side. I don't know what I expected to see; claw marks I guess. I'd watched FAR too many zombie movies.

I walked into my parent's room and Ellis was lying with his eyes shut. For a dreadful moment the thought occurred that he might have died in his sleep. Then I saw the covers moving slightly as he breathed and I have never been so relieved. The thought of being rescued from a lifetime alone by the one boy in the all the world that I had loved from afar was almost enough to make me start believing in God. Almost. And then to lose him. Well, that would have been evidence of the capriciousness that ensured I didn't believe in the first place.

I moved close and pulled back the covers.

"Ellis time to get up."

His eyes opened slowly, and he blinked adorably as he adjust to the light, and for a moment he almost seemed like a normal boy rather than the near-zombie that the Blank Virus had created.

"Get up Ellis."

I always used his name. It was a habit I had quickly gotten into to avoid ambiguity.

It always amused me when I watched Star Trek and the eternally vigilant ship's computer needed careful prefixing of all commands with the word "Computer" but then people could have casual conversations with it, and each other, leaving long pauses, and it always recognised that it was still being addressed. I always felt that the crew should have to finish with something like "End conversation" so that it wasn't eavesdropping on their every conversation.

Ellis sat up and I noticed with great amusement that he had a boner.

"Ha ha, nice morning wood Ellis!"

He showed no reaction.

"Wait there," I commanded, and rushed off to my bedroom, returning 30 seconds later with a plastic ruler.

"Stand up Ellis."

He stood. I looked down at his hard cock. It was tiny. I mean, I already knew it was small soft, but it never occurred to me that it would be so tiny hard. I gripped his cock and pressed the transparent ruler against his pubis.

"Four inches [10 cm]."

I released his cock. It was adorable. I wasn't really into small cocks. Or large ones. I was still at the age where I was happy if I got to see ANYONE'S cock in the flesh. But Ellis was really small, even for his age. I wondered again if anyone had ever seen him naked. I very much doubted he made a habit of letting many people see his stumpy little boner. But maybe he was one of those guys who just didn't give a shit, and refused to be embarrassed by something he had no control over.

His cock twitched and jumped. It surprised me. I didn't think that was something that could happen unless you were conscious.

"Ellis, go to the bathroom and use the toilet. Take piss and have a shit if you need to."

I wanted to see if he could cope with more complex commands.

He walked into the bathroom and urinated standing up. More went on the floor than in the bowl. I made a mental note not to send him to the bathroom when he had a boner in future. I wasn't sure if he simply didn't need to void his bowels or he could not cope with complex commands. Then I remembered my command to him the day before. He couldn't process choices.

"Go and get dressed then carefully come downstairs Ellis."

I watched him. He dressed then came downstairs. Multi-part commands seemed fine.

I made him breakfast and we sat to eat. Then something occurred to me.

"Ellis, what's your name?"

It was a stupid question but I wanted to hear the sound of his voice.

"Ellis," he replied without hesitation.

I was elated! It was only a single word, but it seemed to chase the emptiness of our world a little further away. I hadn't expected him to answer at all, and if he did I thought it would be slow and a little distorted like a retarded person. Is it okay to say that? Retarded? I guess the oversensitive, eager-to-take-offence social justice warriors are all gone now too. That's one good thing.

As it happened, Ellis' voice was perfectly clear, perfectly normal. He had a husky tone; the voice of a teenager whose body has not yet settled into being a man, and whose vocal chords were not making the transition smoothly.

"Can you understand me Ellis?"

"Yes."

"Where do you live Ellis?"

"43 Cedar Ridge."

"Are you feeling alright?"

No answer.

"Ellis, are you feeling alright?"

Again silence.

My hopes of having normal conversations with him evaporated, as I realised that Ellis' mind was working like one of those question answering programs. It was fine within pre-programmed parameters, but it had no ability to reason or ask questions of itself.

I was saddened for Ellis and for myself. I was certain that some part of him remained conscious inside, but it was like there was a short circuit preventing him from interacting fully.

He looked at me blankly and I smiled back at him kindly.

"Eat your breakfast Ellis."

Over the next couple of days, Ellis and I continued to explore the neighbourhood. I was fearful that if I caught the virus and blanked, he would be left in my house alone to die. I know that I would also be left helpless to suffer the same fate, but now that I had taken responsibility for him, I couldn't bear the thought of him ending up like that. If I had to die, I'd rather do it in his company.

I realised that he was more than capable of carrying stuff, so it doubled the rate at which I could gather supplies. He was also able to help out carrying and doing the heavy labour as I continued to expand the vegetable garden. I didn't trust him with the tools. I thought about the way he had peed all over the bathroom floor, and I had visions of him sticking a garden fork through his foot or chopping his toes off with a spade.

I extended the garden into our neighbour's yards on both directions. Winters were usually pretty brutal, so growing all year round was not an option and I wanted to avoid using our canned and packet supplies any more than necessary.

The weather was warm and both Ellis and I worked without tops on: me by choice, and him because I'd ordered it. After a couple of days, I could see that he was starting to get a nice tan. He was also covered with a sheen of sweat. Personal hygiene had not been a high priority, but with two of us working and living in close proximity, we were starting to smell a bit musky. I decided to take a chance.

On the fourth day after I found him, I grabbed a bar of soap, a bottle of shampoo, deodorant and a towel along with snacks and water, and stuffed them into a backpack.

I put on a pair of hiking boots and made sure Ellis was dressed the same. My final preparation was to gather my father's hunting rifle. He didn't hunt often and I'd never done it although he had taught me how to shoot.

I shouldered it on its strap and we set off into the woods.

We hiked for 90 minutes, moving slowly. I was cautious because I didn't want to pressure Ellis into injuring himself. Nor did I want to take chances with my own safety.

Eventually, the pine forest parted and we were greeted by running water. The river was shallow, no more than a foot deep in most places, but over a hundred feet wide. It ran over a bed of gravel and water-smoothed rocks.

I put the pack down and took out its contents.

"Ellis take your clothes off."

I was surprised that he could undo the laces of his boots without help. I wondered if he would also be able to tie them.

He stripped nude and I did the same, then I took the bar of soap and walked into the slow flowing water. In spite of the 85 degree [30°C] temperature, it was still cold; not simply in contrast to the temperature of my warm skin, but objectively. It had come down from the mountains, and in places, they remained snow capped all year round.

I washed myself thoroughly, cleaning off a month worth of sweat and body odour. It's amazing how quickly such things cease to matter without people around to care about.

The water was so cold that my dick quickly shrivelled, its foreskin tightening. I looked down at my pale cock. It was curved downwards and looked like I had a semi, but it was just the temperature. I grinned.

When I was clean I called out to Ellis.

"Ellis come into the water. Be VERY careful where you step."

He carefully picked his way towards me then stopped  in front of me. I considered instructing him to wash himself, but it was an opportunity to enjoy his body, and I took advantage.

I lathered the soap, then washed him from head to toe, spending way too long on his genitals than was necessary. He stood patiently as I washed him. His already small cock shrivelled still further, and his nuts rose, forming a tight knot beneath that was no larger than a ping pong ball.

When I had washed and rinsed him, I poured water over his head.

"Ellis shut your eyes."

I shampooed his hair, then carefully washed and rinsed it. It was thick, but the strands were fine and silky. They stuck to his face. I pushed the wet clumped strands away from his eyes.

"Okay Ellis, you can open your eyes."

He did so and our eyes met. For a brief moment I hoped that there was something there, but I quickly realised that he was not interacting; his gaze met mine simply because that's where I had been standing when his eyes opened.

I washed my own hair, and when I was done, I looked at him. His skin was covered in goosebumps and he was shivering.

I splashed water in his face with a smile.

"You look cold, let's get dried off."

"Yes."

It hadn't been a question but he had responded to me nevertheless. I was fearful of reading too much into it, but I felt that surge of optimism again.

I lead him from the river with my arm around his shoulder. I dried us both. It was late afternoon, still hot. We would have comfortably drip dried in ten minutes, but I didn't want to wait to get dressed again. For a moment, I considered just putting on our boots and walking home nude. Although I hadn't seen a living soul since mom died, I still thought like a person in an occupied world, and the thought of bumping into somebody whilst we were both naked deterred me. I looked down at Ellis' undersized package. It would probably bother him even more if he was still aware of such things.

"Ellis, lift you arms above your head."

He raised his arms and I squirted deodorant under each arm. He was smooth. I never noticed what age I had started to grow underarm hair, two or three years ago maybe. It seemed like Ellis was a particularly late bloomer. His small genitals and tiny pubic bush all seemed to confirm it. In the past, that might have really bothered him, but now, with just the two of us, it was almost irrelevant.

"Get dressed Ellis."

I sprayed under my own arms and dressed, finishing before him.

The light was golden and the forest was vibrant with the constant buzz sound of insects and the sound of wildlife moving through the undergrowth. In stark contrast to the world of humans, the forest had never seemed more alive.

We walked home even more slowly than we had come. I was on alert for bears, but we mostly walked slowly because I was enjoying the journey with Ellis. I chatted constantly to him about my plans for our future, the garden, and whether we should seek out other survivors in the city. I was so happy just to have some company.

"I know this sounds weird Ellis," I told him, "especially as you and me hardly ever talked at school, but I've always liked you. More than liked you. Since the first day I saw you. I'm gay Ellis. Maybe that might freak you out, but I guess it doesn't matter as much now as it used to."

We walked in silence. I might not have revealed that to him had the virus never happened. In a smallish town, attitudes can be decades behind those of the cities.

"Stop walking Ellis."

He obeyed.

"I just wanted to let you know, I'm so happy that I was able to save you."

I hugged him, standing there in the forest, for a good 30 seconds before we continued walking.

As we neared the edge of the forest there was a sudden rush of activity ahead. I looked up, surprised and on instant alert. Small animals were fleeing a spot ahead.

"Wait here Ellis."

I unslung my rifle and approached cautiously, keeping one ear out in Ellis' direction. There were two bodies on the ground, both male; an adult and a child. Both were on their backs, and from the positions of their bodies, both had collapsed there. I wondered how two people had managed to blank in the same spot. Then I realised the horrible truth. The adult had probably been leading the child who was most likely already blanked. Then he had also been stricken. Both had remained motionless, purposeless until they had collapsed. The boy was perhaps 7 or 8 judging by the size of his body, but the animals had been at him, tearing at the soft tissues of his face and body, leaving him almost unrecognisable.

The man, probably his father, had also been assaulted by the animals, but not enough to make him unrecognisable. He was Mr Stanton, the father of one of my friends. I stared at the tableau in horror. It was a stark reminder of the risk that I was taking in leading Ellis out into the forest.

I stared at the bodies, morbidly transfixed, and then my horror was compounded. The man's chest was still moving feebly. In spite of being half eaten, he was still alive, but beyond all hope. I pointed my rifle at his head and pulled the trigger. It made a neat hole in his temple and Mr Stanton's chest stopped moving.

I examined the boy. He was utterly motionless but I put a bullet into his head too just to be certain. The thought of leaving the little boy alone and conscious in the woods to the animals was more than I could bear.

I returned to Ellis.

"A wounded animal," I lied. "Caught in an old trap. I put it out of its misery."

I lead Ellis far around the bodies. After the loss of his own brother, I didn't want him to have to see.

We walked back to the house. I was in a sombre mood and barely spoke.

I made dinner and we ate to the sound of a Rihanna album. It did little to lift my mood. I lead Ellis upstairs, instructed him to use the toilet and undress for bed, but this time, instead of sending him to my parent's room, I ordered him into my bed. He climbed in naked, and I climbed in naked beside him. I needed body warmth tonight. As I spooned behind him, I brushed his silky hair backwards with my hand. I wrapped my arm around his waist and pulled us close, tucking my face into the exposed nape of his neck.

I whispered in his ear, "Please come back Ellis. I need you."

Chapter 4

Sleeping next to Ellis did my heart good. He was the first person I'd ever slept with naked, and even sleepovers in my younger days were never in the same bed. Feeling his warm body next to mine, his skin touching mine somehow gave me strength. Of course, he was unresponsive, and he didn't move once during the night so far as I could tell, but I hugged him to me like a pillow, our nudity moulded together, my genitals ground against the crack of his ass.

In the morning when I woke up, I felt revived; optimistic again, as I had felt before stumbling across the bodies of Mr Stanton and his son. But I was still moved by what I had seen.

I got up, and we had breakfast. I played some upbeat music on my phone, and this time it matched my mood rather than counterpointing it. I talked to Ellis as though he was both interested and responding. I'd heard that people in comas could be brought out of them by talking to them, so a part of me was secretly hoping that the same was true with Ellis. Also, it made his condition seem less serious, like he was just listening to me. I guess it was my clumsy way of trying to normalise a painful situation.

After breakfast, I left Ellis whilst I collected a two gallon [~8 liter] can of rain water from out back. Then I dug up another of the flowers from our front yard.

Even though sleeping next to Ellis had lifted the deep gloom that had befallen me after seeing the bodies in the forest, their lonely deaths had profoundly moved me. I went into the kitchen and collected Ellis and we walked back to his house.

When we arrived, I walked around the side to the back. I pointed to a wooden patio set.

"Sit down there Ellis."

It felt strange to be ordering him around in his own yard but whilst he could not think for himself, I had to do his thinking for him.

I ran into the house and returned with the framed photo of him and his brother. He sat and I sat in a chair opposite him across the round table. I put it on the table where he could see it.

"Ellis, I know that you were very upset by the death of your brother. What was his name?"

"Sean," Ellis replied.

"Sean. That's a nice name. I can see that you loved him a lot."

"Yes."

I was surprised. It hadn't been meant as a question.

I showed him the flower I had dug up.

"My mom loved gardening. She loved flowers the best. She always said that they were like pure happiness. She said it was impossible to be miserable when you were surrounded by flowers. This was her favourite. Black Eyed Susan. She said it always made her think of the sun. I remember when she planted it. I think it would go great over there with your brother. Keep him company."

I struggled not to choke up as I spoke, pained for his loss and mine equally.

I walked to Sean's grave and very carefully made a shallow depression in the soft earth covering him, then I placed the golden yellow flower into the space. I had dug deep when I lifted it from our garden so that its roots were not damaged. Now that it was in place, I poured all two gallons [~8 liter] of water over it so that it would grow into its new location quickly.

"I never knew you Sean," I said, "but you meant a lot to someone that means a lot to me. I'm so sorry that you're gone."

I turned back to Ellis. Tears were running all the way down his cheeks. He WAS still inside. More than just a robot in a human shell!

I walked up to him, then crouched so that he could see me.

"Please look at me Ellis."

He turned his eyes to mine.

"I know you're still in there Ellis. I'm going to take care of you. Whatever it takes. No matter how long you need me. I'm so, so sorry about Sean, and your mom and dad too. I hope that this hasn't made it worse for you. I just thought 3; Well I just thought that this might make you feel better. In the long run at least. I don't know."

Ellis was still crying but other than the tears running down his cheeks, there were no outward signs. No sobbing. No screwed up cheeks. No scrunched up eyes.

I thought about how awful it must be not even to have the luxury of that simple release. I felt so bad for him. He wasn't a kid, but the two year age difference was enough, and I felt deeply protective towards him. I leaned forwards and hugged him. I cupped the back of his head, and drew his face to the side of mine, and rocked, whispering words of sympathy and reassurance to him. I stayed like that for a couple of minutes before releasing him. I moved away, dabbed his tears away with the corner of my T shirt, then I kissed him on the forehead.

"We'll come back every week, just to make sure he's okay. I'll bring more flowers for your parents next time."

I picked up the photograph and stood up.

"Come on Ellis, let's go home."

He stood and followed me home.

For the next two nights, we slept together naked in my bed, and each morning he awoke with morning wood.

On the third morning, I looked down at his boner.

"Ellis, have you ever had a blowjob?"

"No."

His husky voice was deadpan as always. I wondered if my question caused excitement or panic in his mind, or whether he was even able to contemplate the implications of my question.

"Lay down with your legs apart."

He did as he was told, and I blew him. He showed no reaction to my sucking. His dick stayed hard, and as I sucked and used my tongue, it got much harder. I couldn't tell if that was an involuntary response to the blow job or if he was actually enjoying it. I guess he might have enjoyed the physical sensation yet still hated the fact that I was doing it.

I had no idea how long since he'd last had an orgasm, but it was at least a few days, if not a week by my reckoning. Perhaps a lot longer if the deaths of his family had affected him as the loss of mine affected me.

Either way, after just a couple of minutes, he blew his load. It was fast and short, and he filled my mouth with his cum. All without moving or making a noise, or showing an outward sign that he was having such an epic orgasm.

I swallowed it all. It was not as unpleasant as I had expected, but maybe the slight sweetness I thought I detected was more a reflection of my affection for him. I continued sucking for 30 seconds after he stopped coming, working his glans with my mouth like a vacuum cleaner to ensure every drip of his sweet juice was drained from his eager balls.

When I was done, I didn't ask if he'd enjoyed it in case he said no. His body certainly had and that was enough for me. It made me hard making him hard. I went into the bathroom and jacked off, then started our day.

For the next couple of days, we settled into a routine working hard on the garden. The plants my mom and me had planted were already growing well, and new shoots were sprouting everywhere, but I was painfully aware that it was a race against time.

At night, we would eat, listen to music in small doses, then sleep naked together. Then something great happened.

I had ordered Ellis to undress for bed and he was standing naked waiting for me to give him another order. I stripped and looked up at him. I loved seeing him naked. I looked up and down his body as he stood, seemingly impassive.

"You've got a great body Ellis," I told him. "You make me so horny. I love your dick."

My own dick was standing up hard, as it often did when I saw him naked.

"Look what you do to me."

He looked down at my erection. I wondered what he made of it. Then I saw his dick start to move. It wasn't one of those heavy, hang down kind of dicks. Even when it was soft, it just kind of stuck out of his body at right angles, light enough to defy gravity. To be honest, it was almost all helmet. But it was still unmistakable when he started to get hard. It thickened and got longer. To my surprise, it didn't just get hard, it got extremely hard. His helmet turned shiny and veins bulged along its length.

I reached down and touched one. Even the veins were hard. They slipped away around his rigid shaft under my finger tips.

"Damn Ellis, your dick is hard as nails!"

I slid my fist along it as though I was going to jack him off, then I stopped. I had an idea. All this time I had been sucking him off, turning myself on by turning him on. Now it was time for me.

"Stay right there Ellis."

I ran to the bathroom for a bottle of baby oil – my mom used it for her skin. I returned a few seconds later to find him standing there with his boner undiminished.

Suddenly a funny thought occurred to me. If he fucked the garden, I could use his little boner as a seed drill! I smirked to myself.

"Get down on your hands and knees facing the mirror Ellis."

I don't know what he thought of my command. Confusion at first, but then, as I smeared the oil on his hole, he would likely have put two and two together pretty quickly. Whether he liked the idea or not, he was powerless to disobey. He knelt waiting.

"I've wanted to do this for so long Ellis," I told him as I knelt behind him.

I positioned my dick so that it was touching his hole, then very slowly I pushed against him. I didn't know if it hurt being fucked, but if it was me, I'd have been nervous the first time, so I treated him how I'd want to be treated. Except he had no way to refuse.

He was unable to clench against me but still his hole spread slowly around my dick, and I was patient. I leaned over him, my chest to his back, and reached around to his dick. I grasped it in my oily fist and slowly teased the end, keeping him hard as his hole let me in to play.

Suddenly his hole opened fully and I slid inside. Momentarily I stopped jacking his cock, and instead laid across his back enjoying the closeness, the warmth of his skin outside and the heat within. This was the culmination of hundred fantasies. Everything about Ellis appealed to me when I saw him at school. The tone of his voice; the way he moved, compact but lithe, like he could spring into explosive action at any moment; the fluff on his soft cheek; and his mannerisms. I'd also lusted after Ellis for a long time; long after my feelings for him had passed beyond mere infatuation.

"I wish I could tell you how much I cared about you. How long I've wanted to be friends. And now, it's all come down to this, while you can't even say no."

I was only too well aware that taking him like this was a violation of all decency. I could easily rationalise the blowjobs as being for him, but this. Well this was an invasion of his most sacred boundaries. No straight boy would ever be comfortable being fucked. I knew that I was putting my selfish lust ahead of his emotional wellbeing but this was all about me. I pushed the thoughts from my head and concentrated on fucking him.

I looked the sides of his face. The tiny blonde hairs were catching the last of the golden sun light. Magical, almost like fairy sprinkles. I kissed his neck and started thrusting. It felt good. It felt exactly how I had always hoped it would feel. Except for his silence. In my fantasies, he was talking to me. Telling me how much he cared for me. How much he enjoyed it.

I picked up my pace, fucking him deeper and harder, moving just my hips, maintaining contact against his back with my torso.

I was already getting close but I wanted more. I wanted it to be personal.

I withdrew and stepped away from him, my hard dick bouncing in front of me.

"Get up and lie on the bed on your back," I instructed him.

He stood up and to my surprise, I saw milky sprays on the floor beneath him. He'd already cum! His jizz formed a thick, clumpy line from where his waist had been, up past the point his head was. He might have small balls and a tiny dick, but Ellis sure did squirt like a pro. I smiled at his ejaculate, happy that he had cum.

I turned to him. He was reclining on the bed, staring blankly into space. I clambered on and gripped him by the back of his knees, then I hoisted them apart, dragging him lower down the bed, and I kneeled in the space between. His hole was still open, winking at me, a dark eye beneath his stiff boner. I put my hands either side of his head, and guided my cock into his hole once more, raising his ass from the bed. I put his legs over my shoulders and started to pump, nearly folding him double.

"Ellis look at my face," I said, trying to create some intimacy between us.

He looked at me but his expression was blank. No warmth, no pleasure; not even pain or discomfort. I searched his expression for any sign of emotion but I could find nothing. It was disappointing; depressing. I knew that I was hoping to create a connection where none existed.

Eventually I looked away from him, and concentrated on my fucking. I was thrusting deeply into him on every stroke, and I increased my pace. The only sounds were my heavy breathing, the squelching of my slippery dick in his hole, and my heavy balls slapping against his spine.

The oil was starting to wear out, but I was close. I wondered if I should pull out and come on his chest or even his face, but that seemed too crude; as though I was marking him as my property.

Instead I came in his hole, thudding hard into him with sporadic and brutal strokes as I reached the end of the best orgasm of my life.

I let his legs fall to the bed and slid out of him.

"Ellis, turn on your side and go to sleep."

He turned away from me. I moved in behind him. I re-entered him, wrapped my arm around him, and went to sleep still hard.

Chapter 5

When I awoke sunlight was streaming  through the windows and birds were singing. It was like a scene out of that old Disney cartoon. All I needed was a bluebird to land whistling on my finger and it would have been complete.

My leg was draped over Ellis holding him close, but the jauntiness of the morning did nothing to change my mood. I felt wretched. More than wretched. For the first time in my life I experienced self loathing. Growing up in a small, very Christian community, with religious parents and mostly homophobic  friends had not managed to dent my belief in my own right to exist, nor in the morality and normality of being gay. Even sucking Ellis' dick although he had no chance to refuse was easy for me to rationalise away. But fucking him? I knew that that was way over the line. If he was emotionally aware; and I was almost completely certain that he was after his tears at his brother's graveside; then he would feel totally violated after what I had done to him last night. Even if he was gay; and the odds were very much against it, taking him against his will was not the act of someone who cared about him, it was the act of a monster. I had let my lust get the better of me, and even if he never recovered from the Blank virus, inside, he would always hate me for what I had done.

To make matters worse, I was still hard, still inside him. I had spooned him closely all night, made much easier by the fact that he didn't move in the slightest, and now, whether it was my body's arousal at the warmth of his hole, or simply morning wood caused by a full bladder pressing against my prostate, I could feel my dick straining hard inside his hot rectum.

I slid gently out of him, and crept out of the bed like someone trying not to wake their partner as they prepare for work. I tiptoed to the bathroom and washed my dick using a little water from a 5 gallon [20 liter] container that I kept there. My dick wasn't actually shitty which was a small relief. I'd always wondered about that, but on this occasion, it was clean. But in a weird way I think I was trying to wash the guilt off me.

I returned to the bedroom and dressed. I knew that Ellis wouldn't show his disapproval; couldn't show it, but I felt a crushing weight of guilt for taking advantage.

I woke him up, and as usual he was hard. I barely glanced at it.

"Ellis, get dressed and come downstairs for breakfast," I said, not meeting his eyes.

I went down and left him alone, and two minutes later he joined me. I made him breakfast in silence, and I didn't put any music on whilst we ate. I didn't even know how to broach the subject, and I'd never been good at apologies. How could you even apologise for this?

I lead him to the garden and we spent the day working. The only words I said to him were instructions. I cared deeply about him, but now I felt fake. How could I claim to care about him; to be his friend if I was willing to do that to him?

We had lunch, then worked till dusk when we had supper.  The oppressive weight of my guilt was overwhelming.

I know that some people might say, "It's a totally new world after an apocalypse. The rules have changed." Or "Well you're going to be looking after him for the rest of his life, you're entitled to a little fun." Or they might even try to rationalise that Ellis was not even human any more without the ability for autonomy, but I knew in my heart that all of that was just weasel words. I no more had the right to fuck him without his permission, than I had the right to go to a hospital and start fucking the patients. Worse still, I knew if I had only asked his permission, he might have been able to say no, and worse still, he probably would have. Emphatically so.

That night, I put him to bed in my parent's room again. I didn't have the right to take comfort from his warm body. I was a predator who had raped a teenage kid simply because he was in no position to refuse me.

The next day was just as quiet, and the next. Finally on the fourth day, I realised that my silence was punishing HIM for my transgressions. As we ate lunch, I tried to explain myself.

"Ellis, what I did to you. I know it was wrong. Terrible. You probably hate me. You're right to feel like that. You depend on me to keep you alive and it must be terrifying to wonder if I'll do it again but I swear to you that I'll never do anything else like that to you. I'll never lose control again I promise. I know I've ruined everything. I can't ask you to forgive me, but at least know that I'll take care of you and that you'll be safe."

I'd promised that to him once before, and then violated it. I hoped he wouldn't remember my earlier promise when we were in his back yard.

Of course, he had no way of showing his reaction to my monologue and all of the guilt was in my own head. We finished our meal and we went out foraging for gasoline for a few hours. I made a conscious decision to talk to him. I realised that my guilt was punishing him all over again, leaving him trapped in his silence.

"I don't know if you even WANT to hear the sound of my voice any more Ellis, but I'm gonna talk anyway, because otherwise you might as well be on your own."

I tried to resume my former level of communication with him, chattering about my plans, and the future, and our supplies, and the old world, and school, and anything else that crossed my mind. At first it was strained, but after a couple more days, it came a little easier.

True to my word, we came and planted flowers on his parents' graves, and took care of the one on Sean's grave. Ellis didn't cry again.

At bed time, I left him to undress alone, returning only to put him to bed safely. I suppose I could have just told him to undress and get into bed, and I was deliberately not ogling his body any more.

Things settled into a routine, and my mood gradually lightened, although there was always a shadow in my mind.

It staggered me that we had not seen a single living soul. It was months now. Maybe the whole world was dead except us?

Sometimes in the early evenings, we would simply sit in lawn chairs in the back yard, with the music playing. I had over a thousand gallons of gasoline now stored in the garages of my neighbours, and I was starting to use the generator to power a battery charger and to recharge my phone. Although there was still nothing but static on the radio, I still turned it on intermittently just to check, but the hiss of white noise was a depressing reminder of what we'd lost, and I was leaving longer and longer gaps between tries.

Time started to lose almost all meaning. Weekends and weekdays were no more or less significant than each other. However, about seven weeks after I fucked Ellis, I noticed that he was starting to get a lot more boners. He almost always had them in the morning, but now he would frequently get one when we sat down in the garden. I looked at him reclining in his board shorts, an unmistakable lump lifting the light cotton. For the first couple of weeks I ignored it, and he would sit there pitching a tent for as much as an hour at a time. Then it occurred to me that he might be desperate for release.

I was afraid that it might be seen as taking advantage, but his body's needs were clear. If it was me, sitting around with an unresolved boner day after day, I think I would have been going crazy after a few days.

In the end, I decided that it was unfair to deny him release simply because I'd fucked up. I decided to do something, but strictly for his benefit. The next time we were sitting in the garden, I looked down at the tent in his shorts.

"Got quite the boner there Ellis. I notice you've been horny a lot recently. Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm going to take care of it for you okay?"

There was a long pause. I didn't expect that he was going to answer. Then he said, "Yes."

I pulled his shorts and briefs down past his knees. Now he was half-sitting, half reclining in the lawn chair, bare assed, his undersized rod straining skywards between his legs. I thought about giving him a blow job, but this was for him, not me. I knelt down and jacked him off slowly, but in less than a minute he started to ejaculate. I pumped my hand lightning fast in his lap to maximise his pleasure and he shot a monumental load. Seven weeks worth. The first jet hit his tanned chest with an audible splat, and it was quickly followed by half a dozen more.

To my utter shock, he made a sound "Unnnnhh," and lifted his hips from the chair as though thrusting at the sky. I looked at his face, his eyes were wide, but no longer distant. I jacked him until he had finished squirting, and for a little while longer, watching his face closely all the while. He glanced down at me, blinked a few times like a boy coming out of a trance, but then he was gone again.

"Ellis?"

He didn't answer.

"Ellis can you hear me?"

My voice was loud, almost hysterical.

"Yes."

His voice was emotionless.

"Oh Ellis," I said, "Pleeeease come back."

I kissed him on the cheek. I was emotional. For a moment I thought that he had regained his senses. And then he was lost again. It was crushingly disappointing.

Then it occurred to me. Maybe it was the orgasm that had done it. Perhaps the power of it had done something to his brain? I wondered if there was a correlation between the amount of time that he had gone WITHOUT an orgasm and the effect it had on him. I wasn't willing to wait another seven weeks to find out.

For two weeks, two or three times a day, I'd get Ellis to drop his pants, then I'd give him a very slow teasing wank lasting a few minutes. I used the softest of contact, and only touched him for a few seconds at a time, moving my hand away for 5 to 10 seconds immediately after so that it would take the edge off. A few days after I started the routine, I'd tell him to drop his pants and he would be rigid within seconds of the fresh air hitting his dick, even before I touched him. Sometimes I would leave him standing with a boner for 15 minutes before I even started working on him.

My idea was to make him so horny that it forced his brain to start working; to make that connection once more. I teased and edged him, never allowing him to orgasm.

By the middle of the second week, he was no longer a robot. He was so horny his dick would drool at the slightest touch, and he'd make little groaning noises as I stroked him. He even started grinding his dick towards my hand. As soon as he did that, I'd move away completely, and though his expression was still devoid of emotion, he'd make a pitiful little whine, like a puppy denied its favourite toy.

Finally, by the end of the second week, I was ready to test out my theory. His growing responsiveness to my teasing masturbation already appeared to corroborate what I suspected.

I told him to strip naked and lay on the couch. He obeyed, and as he reclined, his rigid dick stood up like the pointer on a sundial. I looked at him and for a moment the joke about the way that Red Indians tell time popped into my head.

I had already prepared some items I was going to use. My intention was to make him so unbearably horny that when I finally allowed him to cum, it would blow a gasket in his brain. I had this picture in my head of a blocked pipe bursting under the pressure. I had absolutely no idea if it was a realistic expectation, but what else did I have?

I knelt beside him and poured baby oil on my hands, then I rubbed them together to make sure they were properly covered. I slowly slid my fist down Ellis' straining shaft then past his tight balls. His cock twitched as I released him, as though eager for more attention. I denied him, and instead cupped his nuts in my hand and played with them gently for a few minutes.

Ellis was lying there breathing regularly and deeply, but his cock was twitching like crazy and it was clear that his libido was fully engaged. I made a small ring between my finger and thumb, then softly jacked just his glans for ten seconds. His cockhead started swelling still further so I stopped.

I had no idea how to edge somebody, and even less idea how to do it with someone who couldn't speak or move. I figured lots of small motions, lightly tickling his glans, interspersed with frequent pauses and long periods indirect stimulation was the best way to keep him close without blowing his load. I knew from previous experience that his balls rose into a tight little nugget just before he came, so I kept an eye on them, careful not to cross that threshold. When they'd start to rise, I'd ease off waiting however long it took until they dropped lower in his sack, his cock twitching in silent demand for attention.

Then I'd build up slowly again, languidly jacking his shaft but staying away from the nerve-rich helmet, and ensuring that whilst he never got to cum, I kept his dick rock hard all the time. If I felt it softening, I'd give the head a little attention, making small circles on the helmet with the tip of my index finger, sliding across the oily surface, or worrying at the back where the bisected halves of his glans met.

After fifteen minutes of this, his cock started to ooze pre-cum and he started whimpering again. I knew that I had to be driving him crazy, and it occurred to me that I'd never bothered to explain my plan to him. In his mind, this might be just another sick way for me to get off or to punish him for something.

"Ellis, I know that this must be driving you crazy, but I'm not doing it for me. That time when you came so hard in the garden you came out of the Blank for a moment. I was hoping that if I make you cum even harder, or I can make you more horny, it might be permanent. I'm sorry if it's frustrating, but bear with me dude."

He didn't respond and I didn't expect him to. I lightly gripped his slippery glans from the top using all five finger tips, then I made a kneading motion, using just the very slightest contact.

He made a trembling high pitched squeaking noise.

"Hu uhh."

I couldn't tell if it was pain, frustration, or arousal, but I carried on for a few seconds, allowing my finger tips to catch on the uncharacteristically angular back edge of his glans. He literally gave a shiver each time I did so. I saw his balls rising again.

I let go of his glans and moved away.

"Time for a break."

His cock twitched and bounced, two, three, four times. It could have been just a response to his arousal as his body's autonomic system fired off the nerves of his penile muscles, but I was pretty certain that I was witnessing an aborted orgasm as his cock was denied stimulation at the critical moment. His cock was literally going through the pumping motion, without the accompanying ejaculation that would provide satisfaction.

His cock continued twitching seven, eight, nine times, each twitch tensing his cock for a little longer than the one before, then it held its contracted position for five seconds before finally, slowly easing off.

I gripped his balls.

"That was close. I think you nearly came there."

I gripped his nuts firmly in my fist. They felt like tiny peeled lychees in my fist; small, soft, delicate, and slippery. I tugged them downwards. He didn't have much play in his sack. I squeezed a little as I pulled them, rubbing them between my fingers. I wanted to cause him discomfort  so that I could restart the cycle.

Crystal clear pre-cum was drooling copiously from his penis. I'd never made pre-cum so I was fascinated, but this was all about him.

I picked up a soft hand towel and vigorously rubbed the head of his cock. I wasn't concerned about the pre-cum  but I was about to start using my mouth on him, and I didn't want the taste of baby oil in my mouth.

I leaned forwards and wrapped my mouth around his glans, pressing my tongue against it, and using my lips to ensure my teeth didn't rub against the sensitive skin. At first, I didn't move, I just held him in my mouth, letting him feel the warmth of it on his helmet, and allowing his anticipation to fuel his imagination. I had blown him numerous times, and on each occasion he had always blown his load spectacularly. It was clearly an experience he enjoyed greatly.

I tugged and simultaneously squeezed his balls. At the same time, I started slowly licking at his helmet, using small strokes at first, then gradually adding a bobbing head movement and using my lips on the rim of his glans. I felt his balls start to contract towards his stomach, so I pulled harder, allowing the pain to counter his body's desperation to orgasm.

I felt the stickiness of his pre-cum as he drooled into me. It had a milder taste than his cum but was still slightly sweet.

Using the fingertips of my other hand in opposition to my thumb, I massaged his perineum using long firm strokes. It wasn't an erogenous zone per se, but it was a way to touch the base of his cock so that every part of it was being stimulated.

In amongst his occasional whimpers, I could hear his breathing. Apart from the time I'd made him jog for me, it was the first time I'd heard its tempo change. He was panting now, almost gasping with lust.

I looked at his face. His expression didn't seem so distant any more. As though his vision was coming back into focus.

"Lift your knees up Ellis."

He obeyed.

"This is gonna feel weird, but I promise it will make you feel good."

I oiled a finger and slipped it into his bottom. At first I just lightly fingered his starfish, sliding my finger in and out up to the first joint. Ellis swallowed hard several times, and his breathing became ragged, its rhythm disrupted by his lust.

I wrapped my lips around his helmet again. I'd been edging him for nearly an hour. Ready for the big finish. I just hoped it would be enough.

I started bouncing my face on the last inch of his cock, stimulating the rim of his glans with my lips. At the same time, my tongue flickered snake-like across the dome of its head. The fist that had held his balls, now twisted on them lightly, working not to cause discomfort, but to accentuate his ecstasy with a gentle massage.

He started squirming on the couch like a mongoose wrestling a snake. He gasped with every exhalation, his husky adolescent voice driven wild with sexual euphoria.

I slid my finger deeper into his anus, searching for the small lump that I knew was there: his prostate. When I found it, I started massaging by rubbing my finger tip firmly back and forth over its surface.

Ellis writhed harder, and I bobbed my head faster. It was impossible to move my head as fast as a pumping fist, but the combination with my tongue, especially after so much forced abstinence and edging was even more explosive.

Ellis suddenly arched up, bridging his hips up off the couch and supporting his weight between his head and his feet. I allowed my face to move with him, and I moved every part of me that was stimulating him as fast as I could to ensure that his orgasm was as powerful as possible.

He screamed.

"Oh fuuuuuuck!"

I worked on him, forcing his body to give up two week's worth of store cum in a single epic explosion of lust. He twisted his hips towards me, rolling from his bridge to his side, then he literally fell of the couch with a bump. He immediately thrust his pelvis up towards me so that I would continue blowing him. I dipped my head and continued, but instead of grabbing his balls again, I used that hand to jack the bottom of his shaft. I could only get two fingers on.

I sucked and wanked and poked until he stopped cumming, then I continued sucking as he collapsed back to the floor utterly spent. And I continued as he lay there, drenched in sweat, gasping for air, temporarily robbed of his strength by the orgasm of a lifetime.

Eventually he found his strength. I felt him pushing my head away from his groin.

"Stop. Stop now. I'm done."

His voice was like music to me. I quickly swallowed the last of his cum and looked up at his face.

"Ellis?"

He looked down at me.

"You fucked me. You fucking raped me."

His voice was hoarse, but this time it wasn't the vagaries of puberty causing its tone, it was emotion. I was momentarily disorientated by the change of pace. My moment of triumph turned bitter before I even got to celebrate.

He scrambled backwards away from me looking at me like a potential murderer.

"I can't believe you fucked me up the ass! When there was nothing I could do about it."

He suddenly seemed to realise that he was naked. He looked down at his still rigid penis, then quickly covered it with his hands. He looked around for his clothes, then picked them up and hastily pulled his pants and shorts on.

What could I say? He was right.

I stood up, and he edged towards the front door. He was afraid of me, and that hurt me even more. There was so much I wanted to say but it all felt like it would be hollow. Eventually I settled on just three words:

"I'm so sorry."

"Keep away from me," he said, backing away further. He had his hand on the door handle now. "Just stay right away from me. I don't want to see you ever again."

"Ellis 3;"

He opened the door and ran outside.

I desperately hoped he would come back. I knew there was no food in his house, and we had raided most of those nearby as well. But he didn't return. I feared that he may have headed for the city, and that I would never see him again.

I had no right to bother him, but I was also fearful that if he suffered recurrence of the Blank virus that he might be slowly dying. On the evening of the second day, I crept up to his house. I sneaked around to the back and through a hedge that was now growing unruly with no one to trim it, I saw him sitting in the back yard. He was crying again. I wanted more than anything to comfort him, but my presence would probably only make him feel worse.

I ran back to my house and got the photo of Ellis and his brother which had sat on our mantle alongside a photo of my parents. I stuffed some food into a backpack, then I returned to Ellis' house. I put the backpack on the front porch, along with a note. The note said

Ellis, I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for what I did to you. If there's anything I can do to help or to make it up, just tell me and I'll do it. I thought you might want this photo back. Will Corre."

It occurred to me that he might not be able to find my house even if he wanted to, so I added my address. Then I knocked on the door, and ran and hid. I watched as he cautiously approached the door, then opened it and read my note. He picked up the backpack, took out the framed photo and looked briefly at the food. Then he looked around to see me.

"You're an asshole!" he shouted in no general direction.

And he was right. I was. Maybe the two last people in the world and one of them was a fucking rapist. All of my self loathing rushed back as I walked back to my house.

After a week and he still hadn't returned. I was so low that I briefly considered killing myself to end my misery. But I quickly shook it off. Ellis might despise me but I still cared about him. It was my mission to protect him for the rest of my life. I took another bundle of food and left it on his door step. Then a few days later another. Every few days I took more food, and sometimes water, leaving them on his porch, and each time they would be gone by the following day. I suppose you could interpret my actions as being a stalkerish, but with just two of alive, Ellis was too important to leave to fate.

As the second week came to a close, I remembered something I had seen at Ellis's house. I searched through my stockpiles of food, then took something to him. A box of Froot Loops. I hoped that he was the one with a taste for them. I added a note.

Saw these in your house. Thought you might like them.

I returned to my house and continued working on the garden. Some of the food was ready to eat. I harvested some potatoes and greens. I couldn't stand greens but I figured the vitamins were important.

As the afternoon drew towards evening, I went inside to make myself a Gatorade. I heard a quiet knock on the door. I peeped from the lounge bay window. It was Ellis. He was a carrying a large backpack. I opened the door.

"Hello Ellis," I said cautiously. "How are you?"

He shrugged. He looked small and sad.

"Can I stay here with you?"

My heart jumped, but I played it cool. I didn't want to freak him out. I stepped back to allow him in.

"Sure. Of course you can."

I wanted to say a million things to him. I wanted to beg his forgiveness. I wanted to cry and declare my love for him. I wanted to fall on my knees and thank him for giving me another chance.

But I said nothing.

He walked in. He had plenty of room to walk around me, but he walked close and bumped the front of his shoulder against the front of mine.

"You're a real asshole."

"I know I am."

He dropped his pack then took out the photo of Sean along with one of his parents. He put them on the mantle besides my parents.

"Is that okay?" he asked.

"Of course it is. They belong up there."

He gave me a sad look that almost broke my heart. He was hurting.

I reached out my arms. He looked at me suspiciously, but then he came to me anyway. I hugged him and for the first time, he hugged me back.

"Why did you do it?" he asked.

"What?" I replied caught off guard.

"You know what."

I contemplated giving my explanation to the air so that I wouldn't have to look him in the eye, but I felt I owed him that much.

I moved away and sat on the couch. He sat at the other end watching me and waiting. For a moment I realised what a joy it was to actually be ABLE to make eye contact.

I took a deep breath.

"I've wanted you since the first time I ever saw you. I love everything about you. Everything about you makes me horny."

Ellis frowned apparently surprised that he could have such a profound effect on me.

"But you barely even talked to me at school. Why didn't you make friends? We could have hung out."

Now it was my turn to shrug.

"You know how it is. It's hard to make friends with someone a couple of years younger. I didn't want to be creepy."

"But you were okay 3;" Ellis cut himself off mid-sentence. It was clear what he was going to say. I was touched that he cared enough not to be snipey when he had all the right in the world.

"I know," I said, looking at the floor. Now that he could finally meet my eyes, I couldn't meet his.

"It's no excuse, but I was seeing you naked every day, and it was like a dream come true. And then when I started, you know 3;"

He blushed.

"Yeah, sucking my dick."

"Well it was like you were normal again. Then that day, I was so horny, and it was like I could make things how I always dreamed they would be."

Ellis waited in silence for a long time digesting my words. After a pause that was light years past uncomfortable he said, "You're not ever gonna do that again are you?"

"No. No I swear on my life and 3;" I looked at the photos of our dead families. "Well, I swear on my life, I'd rather die than ever hurt you again."

He looked at my face for the longest time. His gaze seemed to penetrate to my core as he appraised whether or not he could take a chance on me.

"You better not," he warned, "I know all the moves in Street Fighter."

I looked at him for a moment, then I got his joke. I laughed out loud, and he laughed with me. Probably the first time either of us had laughed in months.

"I'll bear that in mind dude. Just one thing: why did you give me another chance? Was it the Froot Loops?"

"Nah, can't stand them. But it reminded me what you did for Sean that time. What you did for me. I'd be dead a long time ago if it wasn't for you."

I didn't feel entitled to take any praise for my good deeds, but it made me happy that he had remembered them.

"So what's for dinner?" he asked.

"The first potatoes are ready. How do baked potatoes and beans sound?"

"Good. Very good in fact."

Ellis reached into his bag and pulled out an MP3 player.

"Just one thing; can we listen to some of my music, Rihanna sucks!"

That night I went to bed, and Ellis went to my parent's room. In a world almost devoid of people, I felt like I had won the lottery. A second chance was more than I deserved, but I certainly wasn't going to turn it down.

As the last light faded, the three quarter moon shone in a dark sky. Then I heard a tap at my bedroom door. I rolled over and turned to the door.

"Come in."

Ellis opened the door and came in timidly. He stood just inside my room, naked.

"Can I sleep with you? That bed is too big. It makes me lonely."

"I'm naked."

"It doesn't matter."

I threw back the covers in invitation and he crept over to the bed. I had no idea how to read the situation, but I was taking no chances. I turned on my side facing away from him. He moved close and wrapped his arm around me. I swallowed.

"You don't mind do you?" he asked.

"N 3; no," I answered, stammering at the unexpectedness of it.

He spooned close to me. I felt him grinding his genitals against the crack of my buttocks. He rested his head against the back of my neck. My dick grew hard. I hoped he wouldn't find out. I wanted him to feel safe around me. To know that I didn't only see him as a sex object.

Then I felt his dick hardening against me, slowly extending up between my buttocks.

"You weren't the only one at school who liked someone he was scared to speak to," he said.

He nuzzled my neck and his hand moved from my chest to my straining dick 3;

The End