Shakey Psyche

The Siphon

I began teaching when I was right out of college. I'd turned twenty-one and was looking forward to a long-full career. I'd settled into an apartment that was above a garage. My first teaching job was at the elementary school level. It was sixth grade history and it was to begin the last week of August of that year.

That time in a child's life is wonderful; at least it was for me at that age. Girls begin to look more appealing and boys begin to stretch their assertiveness. Of course, the adults have to be doubly assertive to remind them that they're still children. Keep them in their places, so to speak.

But my first year teaching was more extraordinary than anyone else's. It wasn't an event; it was a person. A young boy walked into the classroom that very first day and I was taken with him. He walked with an air of confidence, but with a chip on his shoulder. He walked straight to the back of the room, set his backpack down on the floor and flopped into the seat. Gorgeous doesn't even begin to describe the kid.

I stood and addressed the class as I had done so the previous three classes, but as I opened my mouth to talk, I got a little tongue-tied. It'd never happened before now. I shook my head and closed my eyes to ignore his face.

"Sorry about that, everyone," I started and then smiled to them. "I'm Mr. Travis; your history teacher. This year, you'll be studying American history, starting with the settling of America all the way through to the current age.

"But first, I want everyone to print their names on the block where your seat is. This is how I'll take roll for the year. If you're not in your seat when the second bell rings, you'll be marked absent."

I started the piece of paper going around the class, beginning with the front desk to my right. I talked to the class about what all they were studying as the paper went around the class. When I got it back, I saw that the boy that had drawn my attention from the beginning was named Damien Collins. I smiled and put the paper on my desk.

"Now, why is it important that we study history?"

Of course, no one was willing to give an answer to a teacher on the first day. I waited for a few minutes to see if anyone would answer; no one did.

"Is it even important to study, then?"

"Yes," a girl answered. I picked up on it.

"Why, Miss Jennings?"

"Because we have to 3;?"

The class snickered a little and I smiled.

"Someone want to help her out?"

"Those who don't study history are doomed to repeat it," Damien commented out of the blue.

Right then, I knew this kid had something special. The class turned in his direction.

"Mr. Collins is absolutely correct, everyone. We must continue to study history or we fall into the traps our forefathers missed. It's in everyone's best interests to learn from the mistakes of others so that they're not repeated."

The class let out soon after, and he left the classroom without so much as a backward glance. That was normal, at least. At lunch, I kept thinking about him. The rest of the day, I forced myself to concentrate on my job and not the blond boy that had invaded my consciousness.

I never thought of myself as a boy-lover. I liked girls as I grew up and had more than my fair share of sexual experiences with the opposite sex in college. Nothing ever really settled in the form of a lasting relationship, though. And as far as looking at other boys, it didn't happen. But Damien was different.

That evening, I couldn't concentrate on my lesson for the next day, so I set it aside to watch the news. I usually don't turn on the news, as it's normally not pretty, but I had to do something other than think of Damien.

" 3;and this was the fifth death of similar causes in the past year," the reporter was stating. "We go live to Sara at St. Michael's Hospital downtown. Sara?"

"Thank you, Paul," she began. "The doctors at St. Michael's are not sure what caused the death of 29 year old James Banner. All they know is that he died the same way as the others had. The doctors have ruled out the possibility of a disease. Both men were in perfect health with no recorded pathogens in their systems.

"There's been no trace of foul play. They just simply died. The coroner's report did stated that all these men had been in gauged in sexual activities just before dying, but that was the only other link between them.

"This is Sara Stanley, Fox Seven News."

Strange; death by sex. Oh well, at least they died happy. The rest of the news was just as friendly; a stabbing with a home robbery, and a car stolen with a police chase. Thrilling. I turned it off and made dinner for myself. Following an equally thrilling dinner, I forced myself to do the next day's lesson. A planning session that normally took two hours, took four. I was disgusted with myself.

The next day, I was looking forward to the third period. He walked in just as he had the day before; beautiful. I took a closer look at him to find his countenance perfect. For all intents and purposes, the boy was flawless. He seemed to exhume a sort of appeal while keeping himself apart from it.

I kept to lesson, disciplining myself not to glance too hard in his direction. It wasn't easy. The lesson came to an end and the class was dismissed. At lunch, I looked for him in the cafeteria, but he was missing. He was probably outside with the others and I missed him as he ate. I finished eating and made my way outside.

He was not difficult to find. I found him leaning against the building in the recess area. Although alone, he seemed content. After a quick scan of the yard and nod to the teacher in charge of it, I made my way over to the boy.

"You okay?" I asked as I approached.

"Yes, sir," he said calmly.

"You don't seem okay," I said, hopefully leading him down a more open conversation. My hopes were dashed as he just shrugged. I smiled and offered him a stick of gum.

"No thank you, Mr. Travis," he said and for the first time, he looked into my eyes. I saw into his as well.

I was shocked. They were the darkest, greenest eyes I've ever seen. They were almost the color of an evergreen tree. I seemed to get lost in those wonderfully deep eyes. It was like I was swallowed up into a grassy meadow on a lazy spring day. I wanted to stay lost in that meadow forever. A lifetime later, I heard my name being called. It sounded too far off to be real, so I ignored it.

"Evan!" it said again, and I was being grasped by the shoulder. It was Julie Princeton; the teacher on duty for the playground. I snapped back awake and turned towards her.

Damien was gone. In fact, all the kids in the playground were gone. Lunch was over. I turned around to notice this and shook my head to clear the cobwebs.

"You okay?" She asked with concern in her voice.

"I think so. What just happened?"

"Beats me. You were just standing here when I saw you again. Everyone had left, but you'd not moved."

"What about Damien?"

"Who?"

"Damien. The boy that was standing here."

"I saw you talking to him, but when everyone had left, it was just you."

What the fuck was going on? I had to find him and ask. He wasn't in his next class. The front desk said that he wasn't feeling good and left for the day. I cursed to myself and headed to my own classroom and waiting students. I didn't apologize, as I figured that any class where the teacher wasn't talking was a good class to them.

I taught a sort of 'half-class' to them and tried to get through the rest of the day. I seemed to be working through a fog the rest of the time. This kid had absorbed all of my thoughts. I needed more information about him.

At the end of the day, I headed to the head office to pull his file. Perfectly legal, of course, as I was his teacher. It told me that he'd been coming to this school for a year now; this was the beginning of his second year. He was also an orphan and living in the local orphanage, naturally. There was no mention of his parents or any other history.

I left school with more questions than answers. Leave it to life to create more mysteries than absolutely necessary. I decided to let it drop for the time being. As much as it was bothering me to get this thing solved, it would have to wait till the next day. The problem was that the next day, Damien wasn't there. Nor was he there on Friday. I agonized over it for the entire day until work was finished.

I drove to the orphanage on Damien's records. Once there, I talked to the director of the place only to be given even more questions.

"There's no one by that name here, Mr. Travis," she, Olivia Thomas, was saying.

I even had her look in her files to find nothing there. No one in the orphanage had even seen or heard of someone by that name or description.

"So, I'm teaching some ghost or spirit?" I asked, frustrated. They all looked at me as if I were losing my mind.

I left the building, remembering to thank them for their time, and headed home. Once there, I left the papers I needed to grade on the table. I had to think clearly before going into those things and I wasn't thinking clearly at all at that time. I laid down on the couch to collect my thoughts in some fashion.

Again, I had to force myself to do my work. This was seriously affecting my job performance. I'd never been hung up like this before in my life. All I kept seeing were those eyes of his.

The next day, I made up my mind to find out just who the hell this kid was. I went to the public library and began looking up a few things. There was nothing in the records concerning any obituaries with the boy's parents.

I tried a few on line searches with no results. There seemed to be no record of the kid anywhere. Who the hell was he? More importantly now, where was he?

The next week was agonizing. The spot that Damien sat was yet unfilled and it looked like a mouth that was missing a tooth. It was like an itch that I couldn't scratch and it was exasperatingly tough to concentrate on my work. I had almost two hundred other students that needed an education and this one was the one I was concentrating on. I couldn't get him out of my head.

The second un-Damien week went by a little easier. I'd resigned myself to doing my work and letting him go. It was the only thing I could do. And by the end of that month, it was as if he'd just been a figment of my imagination. Life had gone on and I'd traveled with it.

The beginning of October had brought with it a week's worth of rain; badly needed rain, too. I was never one to complain about it, but a week long deluge was a bit excessive, in my humble opinion. That Friday night, it was as if the sky had opened up and poured out its reserves onto the land. The night was not fit for even a dog to be out, but a knock came from the door.

"You've got to be kidding," I said from my table. I'd just sat down to dinner. Grumbling, I got up and opened the door. To my everlasting shock, there stood a very naked Damien. Or rather, what was left of him.

He had a beaten face; blood was running off a cut above his eyebrow, swollen and bleeding lips, both eyes blackened and swollen, and more blood from his nose. Bruises riddled his torso, arms, and legs. His crotch looked like it'd taken more than its fair share of beating as well. Even more blood was running down the inside of his legs. His hands and ankles had ropes on them, but were cut free from each other and left dangling. It was as if he'd cut himself free and ran away quickly.

"Oh my God, Damien!" I ran to grab him as he began to collapse. I picked him up and carried him inside to my couch.

Immediately, I ran to the phone to call 911.

"Don't 3;," he rasped out to me.

I was stunned. I looked at him in question.

"Why not, Damien? You're hurt and you need a doctor."

"No doctor, Mr. Travis," he said in answer.

I came to him and sat down next to him on the coffee table. I still had the cordless phone in my hands.

"But 3;," I said, trying to plead with him.

With a strength that I didn't think he had in him, he pulled himself up and to me. His green eyes bore into mine as he placed his hands on both sides of my face.

"No doctors, Evan," he said firmly. That must've been the last of his strength because he sank back down the couch again. He wasn't unconscious, but definitely out of it.

"Alright, Damien," I said and replaced the phone in its charger.

I went to the bathroom and got some towels. Thankfully, they were dark brown and could hide blood easily. I gently raised his butt up and put one towel under him. The other one was used to gently wipe up the blood and water from his body.

Over the next few hours, I gently, tenderly applied first aid to the boy. I believe he finally fell asleep close to nine o'clock. His breathing was a bit ragged, but nothing to indicate any broken bones. I kept an eye on him as I went back to my dinner. As there were tests to grade, I decided to go ahead and get them graded while making sure he was going to live through the night.

I finally passed out right after midnight in my lazy-boy. I remember having some very strange dreams that night. Most of them had to do with Damien, but they weren't in a sexual way. I do remember seeing him in clothes that were outdated; almost turn of the century kind. I woke to find him still asleep on the couch.

He was still heavily bruised, but breathing better. I checked his other wounds and not seeing anything life-threatening, decided to let him sleep further. He woke as I was making some French toast.

"Can I have some of that?" He asked, peering over the back of the sofa into the small kitchen.

"Can you sit up?"

He nodded and so I motioned for him to sit at the table. He limped over to the table while holding on to the towel that was underneath him for the night. He ate two helpings of the toast and I had my usual allotment. When the dishes were done, I sat back down across from him.

"Okay, you want to tell me what happened?" I asked, looking dead into those life-giving green eyes of his.

"Please don't ask that, Mr. Travis," he pleaded.

"I think I'm owed an explanation, Damien. You disappear from school for a month, then you show up on my doorstep, bleeding and beaten. Not only that, but there's no record of who you are or where you come from. The orphanage that was put down on the records at the school doesn't know who you are and no one knows you there." I paused and then continued. "And after last night, I think you know you can trust me."

"Trust isn't the problem," he said, looking down at the kitchen table.

"Then what is the problem?"

"Believability," he said, looking up again. "You'd never believe me if I told you."

"Try me," I challenged. I always thought of myself as a pretty open-minded kind of guy. And this kid is questioning that. The kid was quiet. He wasn't going to give up anything. I took a deep breath and tried a new tactic. "Okay, then, how about just telling me what happened last night?"

He took a deep breath of his own and nodded.

"I was walking past a store a couple of days ago, when a guy asked me to help him with his groceries. He said that he'd pay me five bucks and I nodded that I would. When the last bag was in the car, he hit me in the back of my head hard enough to throw me into it. He clamped some kind of rag over my mouth. I felt like I was getting tired and the next thing I know is, that I was tied up in some room.

"The man from the car was there, and he had me tied up over some metal bar. It was like one of those bars they used for the handicapped people to get in and out of their chairs." I nodded that I understood what he was meaning. "And I was naked. Then I saw that there were a lot of other men there, too. And 3;" He began crying. I went around the table to him and pulled him to my chest.

"It's okay, Damien, they can't hurt you any more," I told him soothingly. I got the picture. He cried it out and I let him do it. I knew he needed it out of him. When he was done, I asked him how he got loose.

"When they were 3;were 3;were done, they went to sleep. There were some jagged edges of metal at the bottom of the bar where it was welded to the floor. I used them to cut the ropes. I ran as fast as I could to get out of there.

"I remembered that you were trying to be nice to me once and so I came here."

"How did you know where I lived?" I asked.

"Because I saw you last month and followed you home. You didn't see me."

I found that difficult to believe. I would've seen him from ten miles away. But, I didn't press it any further at the time. I hugged him close to me some to let him know he was safe and he didn't pull away from me.

Finally, I let him go and he crashed on my couch again. We relaxed the rest of the day. I let him watch whatever he wanted while he was mending. I finished grading the tests and joined him. I don't even pretend to understand today's cartoons, but we watched them. I got the feeling he was watching them as if he was trying to point out to me that he was trying to be normal. He didn't seem all that into them.

I had some questions that were burning some serious holes into my brain. They were just begging to be asked, but I waited on them. Where did he come from? Where was he during the past month? Why did he leave? Who was he really? Where did he live during that year he was going to school? Those and a lot more were plaguing me. But I had to be patient.

That evening in the news, two more men had died mysteriously. There were no marks on their bodies, nor were there any signs of bad health. They just had simply died. But this time, they'd died together at the same place and almost at the same time.

He stayed with me over the next two days healing up. He wasn't ready for school yet when Monday morning came around, so he stayed while I ventured to the school for work. I didn't tell anyone about him being there. When the end of the day came around, I made my way home again. He was watching cartoons again, but not really taking them in. We had pizza that night.

That week flew by without incident or further questions from me. The following Monday, though, I took him to school with me. I told the principle that he was staying with me until we found more suitable housing for him. He questioned me about it, but after I told him some of the ordeal, he relented.

Damien stayed there with me for over a month, going to classes and pretty much behaving like a normal eleven-year-old. Believe me, it wasn't easy keeping my hands to myself over the course of that month, but I managed it. One thing I noticed, was that as his wounds healed up, his appetite dwindled. When he was totally healed, he hardly ate anything at all. I even saw him give his lunch away to other kids a few times.

A week after he'd been back to full health, he got moody. I asked him what the matter was.

"I have to leave, Evan," he said, looking downcast again.

"Leave?" He nodded. "Why?"

"Because I don't want to hurt you," he said meekly.

"Hurt me? How would you hurt me?" He gave me a look that told me that he wanted to tell me something but was unable to voice it. "Does this have anything to do with September?" He nodded again. "You can tell me, Damien. You should know that by now."

"No, I can't. Just trust me on this, Evan."

"Damien, I'm not going to let you go so easily. I've come to care for you. A lot. Whatever it is, we can handle it together."

"Not this time, Evan," he said. He sounded like a grown up when he said that. I almost saw a little bit of adulthood in him. He got down from the table and walked to the bedroom I'd made for him. "Thank you for everything."

I turned and saw him standing in the doorway to what was now his room. He'd turned back to look at me. He seemed to age almost five years in that short of time. All I could do was nod to him. I stayed awake that night, knowing he was going to try and sneak out while I was asleep. I made it all the way to two in the morning. He was gone when I woke.

I actually cried for him. He'd probably end up getting killed somewhere in the city. A cute, blond kid like him would be a lure for any man with a hard dick and a soft conscience. I saw him beaten and bruised again. I made up my mind right then and there that I was going to go find him. I called into work and left for the streets.

There was no telling where he had gone. I asked around, but no one had seen him. The whole day was spent looking for this green-eyed, blond-haired, wonderful boy that had filled my life with so much joy. I ate on the run. I looked into every nook and cranny I could find in the city. That night, I slept under a tree, when I got too tired to continue as well as make my way home.

Damien had simply disappeared. He'd gone as easily as he'd come into my life. I woke up to a dog licking my face with its owner standing behind it.

"Lady throw you out, son?" The toothy man asked.

"No. I'm looking for someone," I told him while keeping his dog at bay. I may have needed a bath, but not one that badly.

"I'd say you found someone, then," he said, smiling at his own joke. I smiled back, standing up and stretching.

"I'm looking for a young boy," I explained.

"One o' them, eh?" He eyed me suspiciously.

"No, he's one of my students. He's gone missing." No need to get into details. He nodded and seemed to understand.

"What's he look like?"

"About four foot, nine inches [1.45 m] tall, blond hair, green eyes, round-ish face, slim," I said, almost in an autonomic way.

"Well, no one with blond hair, but a brown haired kid went by a few minutes ago while you were still sleeping."

I shook my head, no. It couldn't be Damien.

"Thanks, but that wasn't him," I said.

"You sure? He stopped and laid his hand on your face before leaving."

No strange kid would do that. Perhaps he'd gotten dirty and his hair had darkened. I asked the bum which way the boy went and he pointed to the east. I thanked him, handed him a ten-spot, and headed off in that direction. Nothing came of the search, but I kept looking.

I was still out looking for him way past dark that day. I knew it was dangerous. Hell, I'd gotten lucky the night before not to be mugged. I wasn't so lucky that night. Four older teenagers saw me and came towards me.

"Got change for a twenty, home-boy?" one of them asked.

"Sorry; can't help," I said and tried to go around him. He flipped open a switchblade.

"How 'bout now?"

"Look, I don't have any money on me, man," I said, getting a bit nervous.

"We'll see about that, home-boy," he said and the other three closed in quickly.

I kicked at one, but being outmanned four to one, it wasn't looking pretty. I was blind-sided by one of them and sent to my knees. I knew if I fell here, I wasn't getting back up again. I kicked again at another of them and connected to his groin. The others quickly joined in and it was all I could do to protect myself.

When they had beaten me pretty badly, two of them grabbed my arms and pulled me to the trunk of a tree. With two of them holding me, the leader closed in with his knife.

"Now, we'll see if you got something for us or not," he said, threateningly. He searched my pockets and after finding nothing of value he was about to cut my throat.

"How about taking me on, assholes?" I heard a young voice cry to them.

All of us turned to see a young boy standing there with his hands on his hips. All he needed was a blue suit with a red cape and the image would be complete.

"Damien, NO!" I cried to him through swollen lips.

"Kid, beat it!" The leader yelled at him.

"Fuck you, asshole," he replied.

"Fuck me?!" He asked, turning towards him fully. "I don't think so, you little shit!"

"You think I'm scared of you? Bet you couldn't even get it up if you used Viagra!"

"We'll see 'bout that, you little bitch," he cried to the boy.

What was Damien thinking?

The two that weren't holding me aggressively stalked their way to the boy. He didn't seem to be afraid of him in the least. When the one with the switchblade got to him, he slapped the boy, sending him to his knees. Damien looked up at him defiantly.

"That all you got?" He asked, eliciting a punch to his face, sending Damien to the ground.

The other one grabbed the boy's pants and jerked them down his legs. They were then summarily torn free of his feet. I didn't want to see what came next, but I was also unable to look away.

The leader boy was opening his fly while his friend was stripping the boy's pants off. He pulled his abnormally large cock out of his pants and pulled Damien up by the hair. He shoved his cock into the boy's face.

"I feel any teeth on my cock and you get another mouth, boy. Got it?"

Damien nodded. By the lamp-light, I could see the boy's face and he had a look of innocence on it, but I didn't see any real fear. The preteen opened his mouth and the youth crammed it inside. Damien actually gulped it down without too much difficulty.

The teenager behind him was making ready to take the boy's ass. With very little stroking, he was ready and lined his eight-incher [20 cm] up to Damien's backside. The thick cock touched my pupil's anus and with a violent shove, it was embedded inside him. The boy screamed into the teen's cock that was down his throat.

"Oh, yeah, that's nice and tight," the butt-rapist was saying to his partner.

"Wait till you feel his throat," the other answered.

They fucked the boy at both ends for what seemed like a short eternity. All I could do was watch the horror of it. The teenager in his mouth came first. But when he came, something about his countenance changed. He became suddenly afraid.

"What's happening?" He said, getting whiter by the second. It wasn't just a verbal expression, either; his skin seemed to be losing its color. The horror changed from being on our side to being on theirs.

With his cock still down Damien's throat, the teen began convulsing. His eyes rolled back into his head as even more color drained from his face. It was like watching a train coming right at you; the three of us that were at the tree just stood there and watched it happen.

"What the fuck 3;?" The one raping the boy's tail exclaimed.

As he watched his partner shake and convulse, he tried to pull his cock out of the boy, but he was trapped. He couldn't pull out of him, no matter how hard he tried.

The rapist that was in the boy's mouth went through his death-throws and collapsed to the ground. His cock finally slipped out of Damien's mouth as he slumped downward; totally drained. Foam had leaked out at the corner of his mouth, but otherwise, he appeared normal. He actually had a peaceful look on his face.

Damien wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand. He almost seemed satisfied. His skin appeared to be almost luminescent. He turned his head around to the one behind him.

"Hurry it up, asshole," he spat at the other boy.

"No way! I'm outta here!" He tried even harder to pull out of the boy, but it was nothing doing. He was still just as stuck.

"You can't, so you might as well get it over with," he told him.

The frightened teen was not going to have anything else to do with Damien, but he just couldn't pull his cock out. Damien was getting frustrated with the boy's lack of apparent enthusiasm.

"Either fuck me, Nigger, or I'll do it myself!"

That didn't work either. So, Damien pulled his own body down to the ground and the boy with him. They sort of comically wrestled around on the ground for a minute before Damien wound up on top, facing him. He placed his knees on the outside of the boy's hips and his hands on the boy's chest.

"You wanted to fuck me, well, you're getting what you wanted, Nigger," he jeered down at him.

Damien began riding the boy's cock with utter abandon. It was as if he was trying to get all of the large cock fully inside him. I half expected the thing to exit through the preteen's open mouth. His face was worked up into an expression of both pain and pleasure while he rode the black pole.

"Please don't kill me," the scared boy pleaded. Damien didn't answer. He increased his speed and rode the boy for all he was worth.

I almost felt sorry for him. Whatever Damien was, the boy knew what he had seen and what was in store him also. And he knew he was probably going to die.

When he came, totally not by his choice now, Damien sat down fully onto his pelvic region and fit the entire thing inside him. I could hear the boy cum and then watched as he began shaking in the throws of dying. It was like Damien was sucking the life out of the boy through his cock. I continued to watch in further shock as a second teenager began to die. The body began shaking, the eyes rolled back into the skull, and foam rolled from his mouth. With a last gasp, the teenaged boy died.

Damien collected himself and turned to the three of us. An eerie glow was coming off him now as he began walking towards me and the two that had me pinned to the tree. He just looked at them and the grips that were holding my wrists went slack. I pulled away and turned towards them. They both had blank stares on their faces.

"They'll be okay, Evan. In a few minutes, they'll wake up."

I turned back to him.

"And them?" I asked, motioning my head towards the other two.

"They're dead and nothing can be done about it. We need to leave. Before any cops show up."

"What are you?"

"We can talk when we get back to the apartment," he said, seeming to be older than his eleven years.

I wasn't too sure I wanted to go back to the apartment with him. Or it, rather. I had him in my place for over a month and he didn't harm me. I suppose that I could trust him a little more, so I nodded. He retrieved his pants and underpants and we made our way to my apartment. I didn't realize just how far away I had traveled until we were on our way back.

We made it inside the small space at about midnight. He helped me to the couch then went to get a wet towel. The glow he had in the park seemed to have died out. His face was almost totally unscathed. Just a very small bruise on his cheek was the only sign anything had happened. He handed me the wet towel with ice in it. I put it to my aching head and sat back in the couch.

I kept looking at him as he took the place that was once mine on the coffee table across from me. I looked at him and he sort of giggled.

"If you could see the look on your face, Evan," he said, settling down a bit.

"I think it's warranted, Damien. Or whoever, or whatever, you are."

"I'm a man, Evan; a cursed man," he said, getting serious. "My name is actually Devon Collins."

"Well, you look like a boy," I said to him, feeling the swelling along my jawbone.

"Yeah, I know," he said, smiling. "Look, right now, it's probably best if we call it a night. I can explain everything in the morning."

"Are you going to be here in the morning?" I asked, skeptical.

"Yes. I promise."

I nodded that the idea of sleep was a good one. We didn't bother with the shower, so we went to sleep smelling like garbage. For me, it was a fitful sleep. I kept seeing the look of horror on the teenage boys' faces as they died. Just before I woke, I remember another dream of seeing Damien, but this time, he was dressed in clothes set in the 1960's. He was actually cuter in a tie-died t-shirt with a 'peace' sign on the front.

"Good morning," he said, cheerfully as he removed the bacon from the frying pan. I smelled the cooked food and sat down to eat. We had a quiet meal and he told me to take a shower.

"We'll talk afterwards, because, no offense, but you stink," he said, wrinkling his cute nose.

"I can still put you over my knee, you know," I retorted, smirking.

"I dare ya," he said, sticking his tongue out at me like any other eleven-year-old would do.

I shook my head, in amazement and took my shower. It felt as wonderful as the meal tasted. When I was done, I dressed and walked into the living room to find him watching the Sunday Morning News.

"Anything interesting?" I asked as I walked in.

"They found the bodies of the two niggers from last night," he said with a shrug and clicked the television off with the remote. He turned to me as I sat down in the chair.

"You say that so casually, Damien," I told him.

"After all the people that have died because of me, you're worried about those two?"

"No, just your attitude towards them," I countered.

"Look, Evan, I've been alive a lot longer than you have. I've seen so much death that it's become a friend, almost. I guess you could actually say that it is my only friend."

"Not your only one, Damien. Now, tell me just what in the world is going on?"

"Are you ready to believe what I have to tell you?"

"After last night, I'd believe that the moon's made of green cheese if it explained what you are and what happened." He giggled and shrugged at that. "Now, what are you?"

"I told you last night; I'm a cursed man. I was born in March of 1780 in New Jersey, actually. My father was a soldier and my mother was a seamstress. Both fought in the Colonial War for Independence. When I turned 16, I began working on the docks and eventually on a boat. I transferred to the USS Pickering the spring of 1800.

"On my initial voyage, we ran into a storm. The boat tore in half and all but a few were drowned in the ocean. I was on deck when the boat was ripped apart. I rode the storm out on a few planks and got separated from the others. I was the only one to have survived the wreck. I made it to shore a few days later, but I wish that I hadn't.

"The natives of the island were friendly enough and took me in. I healed from my experience soon and began to work with them.

"One day, I noticed a young boy, of about ten or so, walking by the spot where I was sitting. He was gorgeous; great skin, a nicely shaped butt and legs. The whole works. His name was Tahanin. I began spending some time with him and as I learned their language, I fell in love with Tahanin.

"The problem, though, was two-fold. One, he didn't like me that way. And two, the laws of his tribe forbid any type of relationship like the one I was dreaming of with him. So, I tried to get over it, but I couldn't. When I saw him by himself, one day, I took him. It was hard, fast and brutal. It lasted all afternoon. When I was done, he told me that he was going to tell his father. I couldn't have that. So, filled with as much hate as love for him, I cut his throat.

"At night, I can still hear his cries. I can see his face and the look in his eyes as the knife cut him. I remember the blood on my hands as the knife fell from my fingers. Every single moment of that act is still in the freshest part of my memory."

He seemed to fade away for a few minutes as his mind drifted back into his memory. A lone tear slipped from his eye and slid down his face. It brought him out of his reverie and back to the present. He wiped it off and turned back to me, smiling in apology.

"Tahanin was the only son of their Shaman, or doctor. I never believed in all that hocus-pocus stuff, so I dismissed his repeated threats of voodoo curses. I tried to get off the island, but didn't make it. They caught me trying to steal a small raft. I figured I was done for, but he had other plans for me.

"I was stretched out on an altar and tied to its four corners. He chanted over me for hours, shaking his stick in different ways. At the beginning, I was understandably scared, but as things went on, and I wasn't being harmed, my fear dissipated. After spending the entire day doing his ritualistic chants and dances, he stopped and came to my head. He forced my head back and mouth open. A liquid was poured from a bowl and I could do nothing to stop it.

"It tasted something close to blood, but with a strange difference. I can't explain it any better than that. It was blood, but something else had been added to it. What I didn't know at the time was that it was Tahanin's blood that I was drinking.

"When he was done, my arms and legs were cut loose, and he flipped me off the altar. I was shocked. I figured that I was dead. He told me I could go. He said that he would pass away long before this curse would."

"What was the curse, then?" I asked, getting caught up in the story.

"He never explained it to me. I had to find out what it was on my own. I could now leave the island. Shocked, but not questioning my good fortune, I left the island. I made one last, inconsequential apology to him and two natives rowed a boat to the Florida coast. It was a three day journey. But something happened to me on that journey.

"I was several hours into the trip when a tingling sensation broke out on my skin. The tingling changed to needles very quickly. Soon, it was as if fire-ants had crawled under my skin and were attacking me. Even my internal organs were not exempt from the pain. I screamed and thrashed the entire time trying to get the pain to stop. I figured this was what the shaman meant when he said that I could go. He was going to kill me slowly from poison.

"I was unable to sleep due to all the pain I was under. On the morning of the fourth day, we'd reached the shore of Florida. The two men that'd been guiding the boat let me off and turned back around to go home. I dragged a bag into the forest and fell asleep.

"Only when I awoke, did I realize what the poison had done to me. I was now back to the age of ten or so. I saw my face in the reflection of the water as I got my first drink on shore. My hands and arms were young again. I stripped off the loose clothing I was wearing and saw my new body; completely hairless. I actually giggled at it.

"A grown man inside of a preteen's body. I could now correct all my previous mistakes. At first, I thought that he'd given me a gift. I mean, who wouldn't want to go back and correct some things they'd done wrong?

"But, anyway, I made my way up the coast to the nearest city. It was a long trek up the coast, taking more than a month. I didn't even take in the fact that I wasn't hungry till I got to the first coastal city in Georgia. When I got there, a nice couple took me into their home. I made up a story about losing my family in a shipwreck.

"Over the course of the next month or so, I became weaker and weaker, no matter how much I ate. They tried everything they knew to help me, but it was useless. I was soon too weak to move about. A day after I was bedridden, the city was attacked by an Indian raid. I was too small, and too sick to fight, but that didn't stop them from coming at me.

"A particularly vicious warrior found me lying on the bed after killing my benefactors. He smiled at me in a way that I knew; I'd seen it on my own face. Again, too weak to fight back, he pulled me off the bed and to my knees. I felt his dick touch the crack in my slim butt, and knew what I was in for. Just as savagely as I'd taken Tahanin, he took me. I screamed and tried to fight him off, but it was useless.

"It was painful. It felt like he was ripping me in half as he tore into me. I felt every inch of him go into my insides. He didn't stop raping me until he'd finished. When he had, I figured I was dead, but I was wrong. Something began happening; he couldn't pull his cock out of me when he was through. I felt a surge of power coming from my intestinal area. I looked back to see the look of horror on his face as my body drained his.

"He went into convulsions and when it was over, he slipped out of my rectum and fell dead to the ground. My strength had returned and I stood up to look over his dead body; it was a pale white color. It was as if all life had been sucked out of him and into me. I assumed that was exactly what had happened. And that was my curse.

"Over the years, I've tried to 'feed', as I call it, on the lower echelon of the human species; the drug dealers, rapists, murderers, etc. I tried an animal once, but it didn't satisfy. It's more than a craving; it's a need. I have to do it. Before you ask, yes, I did try 'starving' myself once. I got as far as three months. The pain was intolerable, and I still didn't die. I've even shot myself in the head once, but it did nothing but cause a week-long headache.

"I've been trying to find a way to undo the curse, but I can't find the island to undo it. Of course, the shaman is dead, but I keep hoping that I can find someone that knows the ancient arts of voodoo. So far, no luck."

"So, you're ten years old for the rest of eternity?" I asked, seemingly incredulously.

"Yes and no. I grow older, but at about sixteen or so, I go through that painful, three-day ordeal of reverting back to this age."

"And that trick with your eyes 3;?" He smiled, humorlessly.

"My eyes and hair were actually brown from birth. When I revert, my eyes change to a different color. I have no control over that. But my hair is a different subject. I found that I can change my hair almost at will. It takes a few hours, but I can change the color to disguise myself better. I know now that it was a mistake to be so blond when I walked into your life.

"As far as that 'trick' goes, I can't do it all the time. It can only be done within a few days after I feed. It's sort of a hypnotism, but instead of causing someone to do something, it just puts them into a trance. It's kind of a defensive mechanism."

I sat there for a few minutes, thinking about all he'd said. It must've been too long as he got up to head towards the door.

"Where're you going?" I asked him when he opened it.

"I'm leaving, Evan. If I stay, I'll only endanger your life, and you're too good of a person for that."

"How do you know that?" I asked, thinking of some of the thoughts I'd had running around in my head since I first met him.

"I know, Evan, I know," was all he said and he continued to walk out.

"Please stay, Damien," I told him. "I can take the risk if you are willing to stay here with me."

"I can't take that risk."

"But the risk is all mine, Damien. Haven't you even tried to stay?"

"Yes," he said, turning back to me. "I stayed with a man in Philadelphia during the course of the Civil War. He was a pianist. I liked him a lot."

"What happened?" I asked, almost knowing the answer.

"I got 'hungry'," he said, closing the door and walking back to the couch. "That's why I have to leave. To stay could kill you."

"If it ever comes to that, I would be more than willing to give my life to ease your suffering; if only minutely."

He looked deeply into my eyes and I instinctively closed them. He snickered.

"I wasn't going to do that, Evan," he said simply.

I opened my eyes and saw that he'd walked over to me from the couch. He put his smaller hand up to my cheek and stroked my face tenderly. I reciprocated. We looked into each other's eyes for a long time. Time passed slowly as if a second were a lifetime. I reached out and took him in my arms and pulled him to me. He almost caved in as I cradled him in my arms, letting the boy sit in my lap.

"Does it ever get easier?" I asked him quietly.

"Does what get easier?"

"The getting 3; fucked part," I said, hesitating on the actual word of the act. I couldn't imagine it being sex or making love.

He looked down at his lap, sitting in mine and shook his head, no. I tilted his head upward to look me in the eye.

"Whatever mistake you made, I believe you've paid for it; time and time again. I believe that you deserve some happiness, no matter how brief. And maybe together we can find a way to undo that curse. Okay?"

He simply nodded as I held him. As we sat in the chair, I rocked him in my arms. A thought came to me as we sat there, rocking back and forth.

"What happened last month?"

"I met the man with the groceries and he did what I told you he had done, but when I'd finished feeding, I was still tied up with several other men in the room. They took to hitting and beating me until I was unconscious. I figure that they left me for dead, as they were gone when I woke up. I then cut the ropes and left the room."

"You didn't 'hypnotize' them?"

"I couldn't get a strong enough visual lock on their eyes. It takes a second to work."

I nodded that I understood.

"And you've healed totally without a scar," I offered.

"The food I eat, when I eat, helps me heal bodily damage. If I'm whole, I don't need to eat anything. I found that out a few years after leaving Georgia for the first time."

"Where all have you been?"

"You name it, I've been there," he said, smiling and sitting up in my lap.

"I'm sure you have," I smiled back to him and didn't doubt that one bit.

The rest of the day we spent talking about all the places he'd been and all the people he'd met. He told me about the disaster on the Titanic, both world wars, the depression. It was like getting a history lesson. I kind of smiled at the thought.

"What?" He asked as he saw my smile.

"I guess you won't have any problems in my class," I said and we both shared a laugh.

I was sitting with a two hundred year old murderer and child rapist and we were talking about sixth grade history. The humor of it wasn't lost on me.

The next few weeks, we talked a lot about his situation. We found some books on the subject of voodoo curses, but nothing even came close to his situation. On a Friday night a month later, he went to the door and looked back at me in a knowing way. I nodded; he needed to feed. He didn't return till early in the morning hours.

The next morning, I went to his room to find him sleeping soundly. He looked so innocent and harmless, but yet a murderer many times over. I brushed his cheek with the back of my hand and he sighed and shrugged his shoulder at me, but didn't wake. I made my way out to the kitchen to start my breakfast. Damien padded out, fully nude, as I was finishing.

"Now, that I like," I said, smiling at him. He looked down and then back to me.

"I'm sure you do."

He actually ate a few bites of bacon that morning, but otherwise went without. His real food had not harmed him the night before. That following week was the final week of school before Christmas break. I'd made up my mind about something by the end of that week. I approached him on that Saturday.

"Next week, I want to give myself to you so that you don't have to go find someone else."

"No, Evan. Thank you, but I'll find some scum on the street."

"I've made up my mind, Damien. You can either do it, or I'll do it myself. I believe those were the words you told a certain teenager last month?"

He and I looked at each other for a few minutes. He broke the silence first.

"You're sure?"

"Positive." And with that decided, I turned and left him alone.

That next week, I made out my will, mailed a few last letters, and finished up a few tasks that needed to be done. Damien still tried to talk me out of it, but I was just as resilient as he was about it. I told him that it was a done deal and to just accept it.

"Look, we only have a few more days together. Let's not spend them arguing about this."

He relented, but not without a final pout. On that Friday, we went out to eat at a nice restaurant and then back to the apartment. I was the one that was about to die, but he looked as if he was headed for the gallows. I took my overcoat off, knocking off the snow, and he handed me his. We made our way to my bedroom and onto my bed.

"Once it begins, Evan, there's no stopping it. Not even I can stop it."

"I understand," I said, kicking off my shoes. I pulled my socks off as he had been doing the same thing.

He struggled with his shirt and I helped him off with it. He slipped off the bed and turned to face me. The ancient years that'd past in his lifetime were evident in those eyes. Those deep green eyes that had held me captive were looking into my very soul. I leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips. He kissed me back and we embraced. When we parted, he pulled my shirt over my head with him. It was cast to the ground. I reached for his pants and he let me lower them down his slender legs. I marveled at the perfection that was him. Not a blemish polluted his appearance.

Once he was in nothing but his briefs, I reached forward and kissed him again. I could see he was wavering as the time was getting closer. I really needed him to know that I was okay with all of this. His eyes were beginning to water as we parted. I reached up with my thumbs and wiped the tears as they broke free from the lids.

"It's okay, Devon," I said, using his birth name. He nodded and then reached for the belt around my own pants. I raised up to allow them to be slid downward. My boxers tented out as a result of my erection. I reached down and lowered my boxers as I slid backward fully onto the bed.

I angled my body to lie along the middle of the bed and my old little boy climbed on after me. I smiled at him again, but he couldn't return it. I reached forward and grabbed him by the upper arms, then pulled him towards me as I lay back down. He moved with me, straddling my torso. We kissed again as I ran my hands down the sides of his soft, smooth body.

The gentle caresses of my fingers started to have an affect on his cock. I felt it grow under the fabric of his briefs. He raised up and I could see his little hard dick. I reached for his white cotton to pull them down and his hands covered mine. They didn't try to stop me; just confirm what I was doing. He leaned forward and both of our hands slid them down his legs as he closed them. They were discarded easily after that and as he sat back up, I got to see all of him in his preteen splendor.

I'd seen him before, but not like this. Not so close, so deadly close. I reached up my hand for his face again and cupped it in my palm. He grabbed it with his own and then kissed my palm so affectionately. I ran that hand behind his ear to the back of his head and he lowered himself back down for another kiss.

The tip of my cock had been playing with his lower back, but when he lowered himself again, it slipped down to rest under his butt. He reached back to put it to his backdoor and then broke the kiss.

"This is your last chance, Evan," he said, studying my face closely.

"I know." I took a deep breath and nodded. This would be the last act I would ever do. I was going to die while fucking an eleven year old boy. Sort of.

To let him know I was on board with this, I pushed upwards with my hips, impaling him on my cock. He hissed and grimaced at the quickness of my thrust. He closed his fists as he tried to deal with the pain of the sudden intrusion into his private area. I kept pressing into him as his anal muscles tried to dispel me. Once the initial penetration was over, I continued onward into his body. He groaned as I split him further apart, but neither of us was stopping this.

I was fully buried inside him in a matter of a few thrusts of my hips. It felt wonderful to be inside him. His warmth engulfed my cock and sent a stream of pleasure through me. Heaven had come down to Earth for this one brief time and filled our little room. Pleasurable sounds filled the air as both of us became as one.

We worked our bodies together in harmony as both of us built towards our mutual climaxes. My death was getting nearer and all I concerned myself with was giving pleasure to my little lover. He moaned and shook through a preteen orgasm, tightening his buttcheeks in blissful satisfaction. When he did that, I came, too. My semen shot deep inside him; it was the most I'd ever cum in my life. I took the time right then to tell him how I felt.

"I love you, Damien," I said as I put my hand to his cheek. The look in his eyes told me what he was about to say was the truth.

"I love you too, Evan," he answered back and lowered down for the last kiss I'd ever make.

As we kissed, I felt energy being drained out of my cock and into his body. It wasn't painful, but it was frightening. My life-force ebbed from me and into him, but we remained linked in our kiss. I rolled us over onto his back, putting me on top and we locked even tighter together.

Space didn't exist. Time didn't exist. Thought was the only thing that existed. In my mind, I could reach out and touch every star in the heavens. The Milky Way stood spread out before my gazing watch. I saw a star explode in front of me. Another formed as I turned. A comet shot past my consciousness. I watched it shoot past the galaxy before me. If this was dying, then it wasn't so bad. Then, all of a sudden, I was sitting back up in my bed.

The room around me was spinning for a moment. It took an undeterminable amount of time to finally figure out that I wasn't dead. I never thought that heaven nor hell looked like my apartment. Looking around, I discovered Damien sleeping comfortably in the bed next to me. I let him sleep.

Achingly, I got out of bed and made my way to the kitchen. I felt like all of my energy had been sucked out of me. I had to sit down for a minute at the table before continuing on to the fridge for a drink. I poured some orange juice into a glass. The action seemed painfully normal compared to the interstellar phenomenon that had occurred the previous night.

I felt re-energized after the orange juice. It was enough to walk around a bit more, albeit on rubbery legs. Feeling better, I turned towards the bedroom to see Damien standing in there. The look on his face was utterly priceless.

"You're not dead," he said just above a whisper.

"Sorry to disappoint you," I countered.

"But 3;," was all he could get out before running to me and throwing his arms around my waist. I hugged him back as well. We stayed like that for a while until I reached down to pull his chin up to look at me in the eye.

"I can't explain it either, Damien, but it looks like we've solved one problem at the very least. How do you feel?"

"A little tired, but okay. What about you?"

"Same thing, but more than just a little tired. I'm almost worn out."

I led him to the big chair and we sat down together, with him in my lap again. Of course, this time, we were both nude. He sat with me and seemed like he cried out a century's worth of pain. I guess we'd found one thing that would make his life a little easier. When it was over, he reached up and kissed me again. It was then that he pulled back and looked at me as if he had a thought.

"What is it?"

"I never kissed anyone before while they were dying. I never cared enough about them to do it. You think maybe that was it? Why you're still alive?"

"Possibly. It may have been a combination of both the kiss and the fact that we care for each other."

"You're just a hopeless romantic," he said, smirking. In an answer, I leaned forward and kissed him.

"You wanna watch cartoons this morning?" I asked, trying to bring things back into some semblance of normal.

"Nah; that's kid's stuff," he said, but turned around in my lap and picked up the remote anyway. He leaned back against my chest and clicked on the television. A religious program was on.

"Huh?!" Both of us commented. I grabbed the remote and began flipping channels. The weather channel said that it was Sunday morning. We looked at each other in shock.

"I guess it wore both of us out," he said. I nodded in agreement.

We both decided that we would hold off for a few days and build back up our energy level before trying our theory out again. It was that Wednesday night we tried again. He was the one this time that was eager to go at it. He pulled me into the bedroom, totally buck naked and laid down on the bed with is ass in the air.

"Take me again, Evan," he offered, smiling to me.

"Who am I to refuse an offer like that?"

I stripped down and climbed up onto the bed and on his back. He opened his legs for me and I eased up on him. I reached down under his body with my right hand to bring him closer to me. I felt the tip of my cock once again touch his anal flower. As I did, I lowered my face to his and we kissed.

My hips surged forward, skewering my small lover. He groaned through our kiss, but didn't break loose from it. I continued feeding my cock to his lower intestines as much as I could. I released him from our kiss and arched my back in ecstasy as my whole cock was buried in him. He felt as divine as he did the previous Friday. I pulled back, but some force kept me inside his rectal cavity. I wasn't worried, per sé, just a sort of note in the back of my mind that his curse hadn't been totally broken. Yet.

I began working my hips to achieve what both of us were looking for; my climax. It got closer and closer. And as it did, Damien got a bit more guttural in his language.

"Harder, Evan," he growled deeply.

With all my might, I shoved as viciously as I could into him. He grunted at it, but it seemed only to fuel him onward even more.

"Oh, yeah; that's it," he cooed.

I growled back at him as I felt the cum churn deep within my balls. I stiffened and growled through an everlasting orgasm. He turned his head to the side and pulled my face down to his. I felt something fill my mouth as ours connected. I opened my eyes to see a light being emitted from our connection. He was replenishing my life-force as he was draining it out of my own cock. It was like a circle of pleasure going through the two of us.

I woke the next morning, feeling tired, but not as tired as before. I reasoned out that the only way Damien was going to get any nourishment was through me fucking him. He would replace what he took, but keep what he needed for himself as well. I told him of my findings and he was okay with it.

"At least I don't have to kill any more," he said with a smile.

"I agree," I answered back.

That evening, I was sitting on my sofa when he walked up to me, naked. I smiled and pulled him into my lap. He reached down and tried to fish out my cock from my pants. I told him to wait. I pushed him off me and undressed and sat back down again. He reached down and began stroking me to full stiffness. When I was there, he leaned forward and towards me. I aimed my cock up to his backside and he lowered his body down to it.

With a quick lurch of my hips, I jabbed it home. He hissed real quick, but that was all before lowering himself all the way down. I reached around him and pulled him to me.

"You'd better not break my chair with your orgasmic throws, my little siphon," I told him and he snickered. He took me seriously, but it didn't stop him from trying.

We both grunted through another orgasm and he replaced what he took from me. We both passed out on the chair that night when we were done. I woke the next morning to find him riding me again. When I looked at him, he shrugged.

"I have to finish it, remember?" He said while bouncing on my rod. I nodded that I did. He rode me for a while, but I stopped him after a few minutes.

I eased us off the couch and onto the floor. From there, I began to slam into his small frame for all I was worth. If we had to finish it, I was going to do it. He moaned and groaned throughout the whole experience. I climaxed first and we kissed, sending the much needed energy back to me. I woke a few hours later to find us still on the floor and him asleep.

I figured that turn about was fair play and began stroking his wee cock. He absent-mindedly rolled onto his back and I continued playing with him. Next, I moved downward to finish him off with my mouth. It was a scary move, dealing with an unknown curse like this, but I thought that I'd cheated death once already. Besides, he was the energy vacuum, not me.

He moaned in his sleep as I vacuumed him inside my warm mouth. He tasted deliciously. My tongue ran the length of his cocklet, sending a wave of euphoric sensations through him. He was still asleep, but his hands moved of their own accord down to my head as I continued my work. He was definitely enjoying what I was doing to him. I worked him over until he arched his back and climaxed. I pulled my mouth off him and saw him looking down his youthful frame at me.

"Good morning," I said to him with a smile.

"And back to you, but I think it's more like the afternoon." He was right.

With only my energy sustaining us, we both needed food, and badly. We made a small feast and chowed down into it. We talked all about what we'd discovered over the past several days and set some much needed parameters for our future love-making.

We agreed on at least twice a week, so that he could get a continuous supply of energy, as opposed to an all-at-once shot. Also, I had to have some type of food before because he drew the energy straight from me, but my body needed the food to replenish what was taken and not returned. We both agreed that with time and practice, we'd get the hang of all of it. Of course, the rest of the world could never know about this and so we had to be extremely careful.

I went through the agencies and courts and was appointed Damien's legal guardian. That made things a lot easier for making all of this seem legitimate.

The 'chip on his shoulder' disappeared soon, and he actually began making friends. Towards the end of the year, he actually had a girlfriend. I called him an old pervert.

"Look who's talking," he retorted.

The curse never went away, but I was glad that I helped make his lot in life a little easier. About five years later, he spent three days reverting back to ten again. It was during that year that I made plans to transfer to another school system. He transferred with me and started over again.

As my libido waned, we began searching for a suitable replacement for me to continue fucking him and giving him his energy. He'd made a very good friend from his fifth grade that cycle and the two talked about his curse. His name was Colton Roberts. We let him into our lives as the two of them got older. When Damien, now Dalton, reverted that time, I took care of him for another year and then Colton took over. We made love one final time and he left me forever.

I'll never forget the little energy siphon that changed my life.

The End