Teglin

Why Not Me?

A Boylove Romance

Chapter One

Kallen wondered if the boy even knew he did this, or was it some subconscious mechanism to hide his shame? He wondered too if the boy realized how ineffective the ploy was. More than once he had seen the boy's cheeks flush red, humiliated at the touch of the man's fingers, as he wiped feces that had spread in gelatinous, stinking mess all over his marble-sized balls, lifting his tender little unhooded penis, wiping there too, then cleaning between his butt cheeks.

This time, the boy's question hit Kallen like a unexpected blow to the stomach. Well, was it really a question, or just one more of a hundred maddening tangents that the kid's mind swerved onto. Hopefully just a passing thought, and the kid would go on to something else. Please!

Kallen never answered the kid anyway. He wanted to answer him now, though. To tell him to shut-up, damnit! Of all things, please don't talk about boys! Not about 3; loving a boy 3;

Instead of shouting, Kallen just roughly jerked the soiled diaper out from between the kid's spindly, wide-spread, lifeless legs and wadded it up, then threw it viciously at the dispenser. The kid's shocked "Oohhh!" was lost to the sound of the hatch opening instantly to the man's unerring aim. Instant annihilation. Matter into energy. Just try to find a carbon residue. The pilot-turned bed-pan-emptier suddenly wished he could toss the kid through 3;

Of course he regretted the thought, as soon as it came to him, but 3; couldn't the kid just 3; please shut up 3; just this once?

"Oh shhhhi 3;" he muttered under his breath, seeing that in his fit of anger, he had just made his job even more onerous. He had forgotten to wipe the boy's bottom before jerking out the diaper, and the mess was soaking into the sheet.

"I really mean it, sir. I know for a fact. I've read all about Boylove on the net, and I've even seen it. My dad loves boys." The kid spoke straight up into the air, his head laying flat upon the sheet. During the last visit he had asked Kallen to pull out the pillow. Sometimes he just preferred to lay flat.

The kid could lift his head, but it was an effort. Too bad he couldn't lift anything else, Kallen thought. Then he could clean himself, instead of forcing the ship's pilot and sole crew member to come by the room every four hours to 3;

The man straightened up wearily. Disgusted at himself. Disgusted at this task. He slowly brushed his fingers across his brow, and breathed in deeply.

Big mistake! The fecal odor hadn't been cleaned out of the air by the scrubbers yet. He blinked his eyes, and shook his head. Give it ten seconds, he thought, then back to the task. He stood still, his face blank, registering the stark condition of the room.

There had been little enough warning that he would have a passenger this trip. First passenger on this tub in a long time. Traveler 109. Trevor 3; something 3; Age 11. Ward of the state. Bound for Olympus. That's how the kid appeared on the waybill. Didn't even have one of the suites, that a first class passenger would get. Child Protective Service had it's regulations to follow – no first class accommodations provided for in the funding, yeah, but get the kid circumcised – they certainly hadn't skimped on that expense! So, passenger 109 got cut, courtesy of CPS, and he got Travel class. At least he wasn't in stowage.

Even worse than the surprise passenger, there had been no warning at all that the kid was an invalid! When Kallen found out, he demanded that a nurse accompany the boy. The consignment operator just laughed. He wasn't about to jeopardize a possible business relationship with a government agency. There was more than enough free time during a long voyage anyway, wasn't there? Anyway, if Kallen didn't want to take his consignments, as given, then there were plenty more ships waiting in line. Being a small-time ship-owner/operator had its advantages. Lining up cargo wasn't one of them. So, Kallen didn't object too strenuously.

He intended to clear one of the first class suites for the boy, but there just hadn't been time, yet. Well, he hadn't taken time. So the kid was stuck here in this one stark room. Cargo still lined the walls, under stowage nets. What the heck, the kid didn't need all the room, as little as it was. He couldn't move. He lay on the bed day in, day out. Watched TV. Ate three meals a day. Messed himself. And talked! Jabbered incessantly.

Now he wanted to talk about boylove?!

All the hurt in Kallen welled up again. He closed his eyes against it. That did no good. Just focussed it. There was no way to escape what had happened. No way to bring Robbie back. Dearest Robbie. Dear, sweet Robbie. Beloved Robbie, who's heart and soul were beautiful beyond compare. Why did it have to happen to him? Where was the justice in it? Why not me, instead? Oh God, why not me!? If only 3;

Suddenly Kallen wanted nothing more than to just get out of this kid's room. To get back to his own cabin, back to the programming. Robbie. Robbie must not be forgotten. He would not be forgotten. Every dream, every wish, every bit of their reality together, had to be recreated. Out of Kallen's memory, onto permanent memory. Robbie would live again, he DID live again, in those simulations 3;

"Sir!?" the kid queried, his rasping voice sounding petulant. "Are you listening to me?"

Petulant, Kallen thought. Righteously indignant, more like it. It might help if he could at least carry on a conversation with the kid.

"Uh 3; yeah, kid, I'm listening," he said, as he bent to start cleaning up the mess. He unceremoniously slipped a hand under each of the boy's thin thighs and lifted them up and back, over his stomach. Then he propped them there with his left forearm, letting the kid's legs dangle over, flopping about with even the slightest pressure against the boy's thighs. The kid had no muscle control at all, and no muscle tone either. He was like a limp rag.

With his free hand, Kallen reached for a WetOne and started wiping the kid's bottom clean. His anus and perineum, all the way up around his ballsac, were a little red from the near constant presence of urine and excrement. He needed a good airing of his privates. Maybe tomorrow.

Throwing the soiled towel towards the dispenser too, Kallen then reached for the diaper rash ointment, pumped out a dab onto his fingertip, and started smoothing it around dispassionately. The kid winced, uttering a meek little cry at the touch of the man's finger on his raw flesh. He could feel everything. He was totally paralyzed from the neck down, but retained full sensory perception. So even though this hurt, he didn't try to pull his bottom away. He simply couldn't.

The silvery white cream contrasted with the very light, but distinctively olive-brown skin color of the boy's flesh. Kallen took another dab, and unceremoniously applied it all around the boy's circumcision scar. They had taken his foreskin some time ago. The scar had healed, but still looked red and sensitive. Just seemed the right thing to do, to put ointment on it, even though the kid never complained about it. He often grew hard, his little tool, with it's bluish-colored glans, stretching out to almost two inches [5 cm] in length in response to Kallen's touch, but that too he would always try to mask with a barrage of chatter. Kallen didn't care. He watched with a glazed-over gaze. After Robbie, no boy would ever interest him again. Robbie had always been the epitome of virile, joyous boyhood. His erections had meant something! He would swing his three inches [7½ cm] of straining dick about like 3;

Kallen sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, his fingers poised cold and unfeeling around the kid's little erection. He shook off the memories, pursed his lips stoically, and opened his eyes again. Slowly he wiped the ointment on the sheet, then lifted the boy's bottom a bit more, to keep it away from the soiled fabric, and said, "Look, I'm going to have to roll you over on your sides, to get this sheet out. You know the drill."

"Sure. Ok. But did you hear what I said? My Dad is a boylover. I've known it forever. I don't think he ever loved me, though."

What to say to that, Kallen wondered. He heard the sadness in the kid's voice. How to tell him that it's hard to fall in love with a kid with mouse ears, buck teeth, a voice that would scratch paint off the walls, and one who never seemed to have heard that 'silence is golden.'

"You're his son, kid. Of course he loves you," he said, as he rolled the kid over onto his left side. He sucked in his breath, seeing that the bed sores were still not healing as fast as they should. But damnit, the kid always wanted to lay on his back.. The sores had to hurt like hell, but he still insisted on laying on his back. They looked much better than the open, bleeding wounds that he had when Kallen first started taking care of the boy, but still shocked the man every time he saw them.

Changing the sheets was like a science now – a quick, lifeless roll either way, holding the boy with one arm and a hand, a quick crumpling of the old sheet out of the way, to be replaced by the new one, then back over to the other side. The old sheet went sailing in the direction of the dispenser too.

Putting the new diaper on the kid was no less a practiced art. Kallen did it now without even thinking about it, his face set grim and perhaps as lifeless as the boy's body.

The kid's little legs had shriveled to practically skin and bones, from inactivity, and his bottom was so thin. Still a little padding there. His chest – his whole body – looked fragile, too thin. More like a sickly 9 year old than an 11 year old. He wasn't getting any exercise at all.

"If he loved me, why did he leave me when 3; after The Crash?"

The Crash 3; why did I leave, BEFORE The Crash, Kallen screamed silently. If only I had been there 3; Robbie!

"Can you tell me that, sir?" he heard the kid plead, just in time to bring him back from the brink. Kallen had been off-planet at the time of The Crash. Perhaps that was one reason he had such nightmares, wondering how it had been for Robbie.

"I 3; I don't know your father, kid 3; I 3; got no idea why he left you. Maybe you're better off 3;"

Maybe you're better off not knowing, was Kallen's unspoken thought. And maybe you're better off with CPS, from the looks of you. Instead of saying it, he again rolled the kid over onto his right side, reached for the antiseptic ointment and clean cotton swabs, to start ministering to the bed sores. This was the last visit until tomorrow morning. As much as he hated all this, he wouldn't leave the kid overnight with the sores untended.

"You know I had a friend one time, before the Crash. Did you know that?"

"No, I didn't know that," Kallen responded disinterestedly. Another tangent? At least that helped. Please, no more talk about boylove.

"Yeah, his name was Serge. My dad, and this other man, took Serge and me on a camping trip. This was before The Crash, of course. The whole time, the whole trip, Serge got all the attention. From both of them. I was always on the outside. One night we had a campfire 3; ouch!"

"Sorry, kid," Kallen intoned, realizing he had rubbed too hard cleaning that sore.

"You know, you don't have to do that," the kid said. "They never cleaned them back on Portal. I got used to them."

"That's ok, kid," Kallen said. "You shouldn't have to 3; I 3; don't want you bleeding on the sheets anymore." The pilot closed his eyes wearily. He didn't even know why he felt compelled to say such heartless things to the kid. Well, yes, he did know. Robbie 3;

"Well, anyway, Dad got Serge to do a little dance. I remember they were laughing and clapping and taking pictures of him. Telling him how beautiful he was. What a sexy little dancer he was. And the whole time I was sitting by myself on the other side of the campfire. No one even noticed me. You know, I never even felt jealous of Serge. He was a good friend. I cried then, though. I 3; I wondered, why not me? Why not me? Why never, ever me?"

"I know I'm not 3; cute. My hair's not long and straight and blonde and shiny like Serge's. My eyes aren't so 3; blue! Like his. Oh, I'm too skinny, too short 3; I 3; don't make men look twice, like Serge always did. I noticed it. You know, he pretended like he didn't notice it himself, but I think he did. He always wears his hair shoulder length, and it curls up, all around, right at the tips. He's pretty. It's the pretty boys like that that men fall in love with, I'm convinced of that from reading all about boylove 3;"

Blond hair, long, straight, shiny. Could be Robbie, Kallen thought sadly, as he listened to the kid talk. Was he right, though, that boylovers only fall in love with pretty boys? The kid hadn't exactly made that accusation, but was it true, anyway? Kallen continued to apply the antiseptic to the boy's sores. Absently he looked up at the boy's face. Those buck-teeth of his made him look like a little bunny rabbit, or a chipmunk 3; like he was always grinning. His hair was a non-descript brownish, orangish 3; some color or other 3; and unkempt. Always unkempt from laying on the bed. Looked like that thin, soft, dry kind of hair that was hard to comb anyway, and lay about his head in unruly curls. Brown eyes. Okay, hazel. A small mouth, with little red lips that just couldn't cover those protruding teeth without effort, causing him to look like he was always breathing through his mouth.. A pixie-ish nose 3; pixie-ish ears too, although they stuck out too much. Give those ears points, and you'd have your perfect example of a little elf.

The kid sighed, then continued. "We were supposed to sleep in the same tent. That's the way I planned it, anyway. We were going to have a lot of fun, on that trip. But 3; every night during the campout, the two men would call Serge over to their tent, leaving me alone. I could hear them over there, whispering, laughing softly. I knew what they were doing. I could hear it. I could hear all of it. Serge told me, anyway. He liked to be fucked."

Kallen's hand poised in midair. "He what?" he snapped out, suddenly interested. Robbie and he had often talked about making love, but this kid spoke of it so 3; matter of factly!

"Oh, he liked what they did. He told me all about sucking their dicks, and how they used to jack him off. And then both of them would fuck him."

"I used to cry every night. Just thinking, why not me? What was wrong with me. They loved boys. They loved Serge. So 3; why not me?"

"You know what you're talking about, kid? Where'd you learn about stuff like that?" Kallen could hardly credit the kid with such a story. Was he just making this all up?

"Oh, I know all about it. I get on the net. I know all about boylove and sex, what men and boys do together. I just wonder, why not with me? You know 3;"

Kallen stood up abruptly, and threw the last of the swabs at the voracious maw of the dispenser. He usually tried to ignore the kid's constant chatter, but this time, it was just too much. He just wanted to get away now, back to his own cabin, back to the computer, back to the simulations 3; back to Robbie.

"I'm going to leave you on your side, tonight, kid," he interrupted the boy's story. Quickly he stuffed the pillow beneath the kid's head.

"Oh 3; do you have to 3; I mean 3; can't you stay for a while 3; we could play a game of 3;"

"Can't kid," Kallen muttered lowly, refusing to look the boy in his face. He quickly pulled the covers back up over the boy's body. "I have a schedule to keep." Again he noticed how unruly the boy's hair was, as it lay in patternless disarray on the sheet. Guiltily, Kallen realized he hadn't combed the boy's hair. Hadn't given him a proper bath either. Hadn't ever taken the time for that.

"Ummh, I don't like to be on my side, sir. I can't 3;"

"Why not, kid," Kallen asked impatiently. "You need to give those sores some air."

"I-I-I can't s-s-see 3;," the kid started to stutter, and the man could sense the fear in him, as his voice rose in pitch.

"Look, we've been through this before. You and me are the only two on board this ship. There's nobody or no one here to hurt you. Just sleep!"

"But I c-c-can't see behind me, then, in the night, you know 3; if 3;"

"Look, kid. The ship is wired. I know everything that goes on, anywhere, on this ship. I keep tabs on you with the ship sensors. You'll be ok," he said as he hurried to the hatchway.

He reached for the light switch, but the kid called out, "Please leave the light on. Ok?"

Kallen paused, then slowly withdrew his hand from the switch. He looked down at the floor, pursing his lips in thought. Why was he being like this? Why couldn't he feel for the kid? Why didn't it matter to him? The kid had full audio control of the lights and the air, and the TV, right there from his bed. His request was for something more. Kallen knew it. The kid just wanted some sign that he cared.

Damnit, he thought, hating himself. He breathed in deeply, and said, "Look kid. I know you've had a hard time. People didn't treat you right. I guess 3; well, your own Dad didn't treat you right. But 3; you just gotta 3; you just have to be glad you're alive, kid. I knew a 3; boy 3; once, who 3;"

He just couldn't say it. He didn't know if he could ever say it. Not with this kid. Not with anybody.

"Just 3; be glad you're alive," he ended, slapping the door release tab sharply. The door swooshed open, and he swept out before the kid could answer him.

Kallen's own cabin was forward, but on the same deck as the kid's. He hurried there, went straight to the terminal, and sat down heavily.

For the first time since the kid came onboard, the pilot activated the room monitors. Regs, state regs, said you had to have written permission to monitor a room like this, but screw the regs. The boy lay still on his side – well, there was no doubt about that, no way for him to turn himself onto his back. He lay unmoving, lifeless, but for the slight rise and fall of the sheet over his arm and ribcage.

Faintly, but clearly, Kallen heard the boy whimper. A soft, plaintive, high-pitched plea to the emptiness of his room. Kallen wondered guiltily if the kid had cried every night, like that.

He reached out, wanting to turn down the audio, but then swirled the pad of his finger over the knob, hesitantly. Bitterly, he wondered what kept him from turning it off.

The kid continued to cry quietly, no doubt knowing his tears would go unanswered.

'Why not me,' Kallen heard in the low, weeping refrain. Or was that just his imagination.

Robbie felt like his spirit was lifting from his body, as his orgasm hit again. It was Kallen's dick, rising again up inside his bowels, that shattered his very being! He felt the huge, hot shaft, hard yet so soft, splitting him apart inside, pressing into his prostate, forcing the spasms that shook him from head to toe in excruciating pleasure. Once again, for what seemed like the umpteenth time, he wondered if he would die of the sensations. He wondered if he should beg Kallen to withdraw. He wondered if he should just lift himself off of Kallen's lap, off of his lover's impaling penis. Yet once again, he knew he couldn't ask that. He couldn't do that. Wouldn't do that! He wanted Kallen in him, always! He could never deny himself this pleasure. Nor could he ever deny Kallen this moment either.

Once again, the mini-orgasm subsided. Once again he lifted himself, allowing Kallen's dick to slide almost completely out of his hole, but never all the way! Again he started the fuck, pumping his little boy's body up and down on the man's cock, resuming the rhythm. He knew that in just moments, he would cum again, and then again, and again, and 3;

3; Robbie was stuck, in more ways than one. On the failsafe 10th pass through the loop, he reluctantly turned himself off, right in the middle of the fuck! Kallen had fallen asleep. With no one to direct the simulation flow, the noodlenode safety checks kicked in. Robbie really had no choice.

He needed a human counterpart, to take on a truly realistic decision-making capability. Until then, without Kallen to decide otherwise, he could only return to the stasis of permanent storage.

Kallen slept on, the nodes still in place within the helmet, but now silent. The simulations were good. Real good. Even with only one player, it was so lifelike.

Gradually, the stimulation of the noodlenode now gone, his erection started to subside.

In his aft passenger cabin, Traveler 109 slept too. Fitfully. There was no failsafe for him. Just memories of being hurt. Nightmare images of the cataclysm, when the space liner Invincible emerged from hyper-space transit, right in the crust of his planet. Or of other images, worse still, of the ever present certainty, even in his sleep, that he would forever be the boy not chosen.

How ironic. No one would care, if he did it. No one had ever cared. But he couldn't turn himself off, even if he sometimes dreamed about it.

"Yuk!" the boy said, and started to push the bland paste back out of his mouth with his tongue.

"Eat it, kid. It's all we got." Kallen said wearily.

"But it 3; tastes like 3; sand or something," the boy sputtered, as he obediently tried to swallow the glob of gruel that Kallen had squeezed into his mouth. "Why 3; can't I have real food?"

"It's the same stuff I eat," the pilot answered as he dribbled water from another tube into the boy's open mouth. "It has all the nutrients that anyone needs. It just comes from a tube. I don't have time to cook up anything else," Kallen lied dispassionately, not even feeling guilty about it. The plain fact was, he wouldn't take the time. Food didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore, except the simulations.

It was getting old – the constant complaints from the kid, about the rations.

"Every home has a food dispenser – you mean you don't have one on this ship?"

"It's broken, kid. So we're stuck with this."

"You could cook it up yourself, couldn't you?"

That hit too close to home. Kallen fumed about it a second, then spat out cruelly, bitterly, "If you hate this stuff so much, I could hook you up to an intravenous tube. Is that what you want?"

In shock and panic at the threat, the kid suddenly blew out the remainder of the paste still in his mouth, splattering the both of them, and Kallen heard a loud and very messy-sounding spluttering from down beneath the sheet too. The look of anguish and fright in the boy's eyes, mixed with shame, told Kallen that he had gone too far, and in that same instant he hated himself for it. Such a stupid comment, probably triggering all kinds of bad memories of long days and months in the hospital, after The Crash.

Quickly Kallen stood up, dropping the food paste bag to the floor. The stink from the boy's involuntary bowel movement started to fill the air. Kallen stepped back without thinking and felt the bag of food paste squish and explode under his foot.

"God damnit," he muttered through clenched teeth, as he started wiping the boy's spew from his face. He looked down at the kid's midsection, and saw a brown stain starting to seep into the sheet.

"Shit!" he cursed again, feeling the anger course through him, gathering strength from all the hours and days of unwanted work tending this kid, from the maddening need to spend time here instead of with Robbie. Anger building upon anger, simultaneously knowing how badly he was acting, yet wanting to cry out that it was too much. He couldn't take this any longer. He didn't want to live like this, without 3;

He jerked down the sheet and saw that the kid had really exploded his diahretic mess out the sides of the diaper. Furiously, he bent to the task. The boy had to be cleaned. Again!

"I 3; I didn't mean 3;" the boy started to rasp out an apology.

"Shut up, kid!" Kallen yelled out loudly, angrily, knowing that the kid always felt the need to chatter in these situations. That he had his pride too. A wounded pride that he couldn't do anything to live up to. But couldn't the kid just be quiet this once? Couldn't he sense the man's anger?

Kallen looked up at the boy's face, and saw him catch his breath, his upper lip sliding up over those two protruding front teeth.

"Wipe that silly grin off your face, for once!" Kallen snapped again, with a harshness intended to wound. "Isn't it enough that I have to take care of you day after day, clean up after you? Do you have to talk all the time? Can't you wipe that grin off 3;"

The pilot froze, in abject horror, finally hearing himself. Hearing the vile words spewing out of his own mouth! He suddenly felt a cold chill, his body surrendering to an emptiness of spirit like none other he had ever felt. Like the very blood in his veins had suddenly shrunk back into a cold heart that had forgotten all concept of mercy and good and compassion. Then he felt a flash of searing heat, felt the blood rising in him again, flushing him with visible evidence of his shame. There was suddenly a raucous, clanging, blaring cacophony of sounds inside his head, drowning out all his senses but one. He didn't feel the wet cloth in his hand. He could no longer hear the pervasive sound of the ships engines vibrating through the hull. He couldn't even taste the bile rising into his mouth. In horror, his eyes became like magnifying glasses, focussing in on one little boy's upturned face.

The kid was even now trying to compress his lips together, over the protrusion of his buck teeth. Even now, he tried so mightily to comply with the man's order! His lips trembled visibly, from both the effort and the fear that he was trying to overcome. The boy's body was paralyzed. He could hardly move his head. He stared straight up to the ceiling, concentrating all of his remaining bodily strength in an attempt to obey the unthinking and cruel commands of the only other person in his world right now. Tears were starting to stream from those eyes, falling off to both sides of his head, and pooling within those sunken sockets. He was struggling to close his mouth, but Kallen could see that he was beginning instead to sob uncontrollably.

The ringing in the pilot's ears suddenly vanished. All his sense flooded in upon him now. He felt the cold of the boy's bare thigh as he grazed his fingertips across it. He smelled the fecal odor, but knew that it was truly the scent of the boy's fear. He tasted his own blood, realizing that he was biting his own bottom lip, feeling every muscle in his body tensed against the horror of what he had done, waiting for his feeble brain to order them into action, to do something to correct this awful sin. He saw such anguish and complete helplessness and stark fear in the boy's face. He heard the boy's choked, halting breath, as he still tried to stifle his desperate sobs.

"I 3; I'm 3; s-s-s-so s-s-sorry, sir," the boy struggled to speak. "I know I 3; I'm s-s-so m-m-much trouble 3; and," his chest cavity shuddered with the effort to draw in air against the need to sob and cry out in his anguish. "I know, s-s-sir, that I'm was b-b-bad to do that. I really will 3;"

Kallen listened in his own despair, as the boy tried to apologize. The pilot had known all along, but could no longer ever again ignore, how utterly vile his attitude and actions had been towards this little boy. As the boy spoke, he felt his own tears welling up. For once they weren't tears of loss, of grief over a past that could never be changed. These were not tears of omission. These were tears of commission. Tears of a great wrong that he had willfully inflicted.

The past was done. There could be no turning back. There could be no reliving. Dear Robbie 3;

There was a here and now. There was a present, and a future, for this little boy in his care. For 3;

The kid. The boy. Traveler 109. A nameless waif.

"I really will 3; try t-t-to be better, sir 3; I w-w-won't talk s-s-so much, I promise, and 3;"

'No, kid!' Kallen wanted to call out to him. 'I'm the one who has to try better. I have some changes to make. None of this is your fault, ki 3;'

In a panic, Kallen suddenly couldn't bring himself to say that word again. Kid. He wasn't just another boy! He was THE BOY right now, right here. With a name all his own. An identity all his own.

The pilot flashed through his memories, trying desperately to remember the boy's name. It was on the manifest. Traveler 109 3; had a name 3; he wasn't just 'the kid' 3; but damn! The name wouldn't come. It was just there, on the tip of his tongue, but 3;

"Y-y-you'll see, sir, I really d-d-do like that food. There's no problem at all, with that. I'll d-d-do better for you, I really will, you'l 3;."

"Ki 3; uh, t-travele 3; Hey little Trav! I'm so sorry!" Kallen's tongue stumbled out a name, a nickname, any name! Some sign that he cared! He was suddenly so desperate to still the boy's unneeded plea, knowing that it was he, instead, who should plea for forgiveness.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, holding his hands up, palms forward, signaling to the boy that he should calm down. He felt the boy's lifeless arm just touching his thigh. Leaning forward, he reached out and propped himself with one arm across the little kid's chest, upon the mattress. With the other he touched the boy's brow lightly, and started smoothing his hair back. He brought his face over the boy's, and looked down into his eyes. The little guy's brow was furrowed, wondering, but still afraid. Such fear was the harshest indictment ever upon Kallen's record, and he knew it!

"Trav 3; Traveler one-oh 3; Trav," he spoke softly, soothingly. "I'm the one who's sorry, ki 3; Trav. You don't have to be sorry for anything. I was totally wrong to blow up like that. And yeah, at the moment, I was really frustrated and angry, but I had no right to say what I did."

The boy continued to look up at him, questioning, not yet understanding. At least some of the fear was gone from his eyes. Kallen quickly tugged the sheet up from under the mattress edge, bunched the loosened fabric in his hand and gently dabbed at the wetness around the boy's eyes.

Kallen continued. "I know. I know, you have no reason to believe me right now, but I'm going to do better. Guaranteed. You'll see."

He waited awkwardly for the kid to say something, but though the tears stopped streaming, and his lips stopped their trembling, the boy just looked up at him, still looking hurt. His eyes started to close to mere slits, as if it hurt him to keep them open. He had managed to close his lips too, and held them compressed tightly over the protruding front teeth.

Well, at least one of us has some self-control, Kallen thought, hating himself all the more. He searched for something to say, but his mind was empty. Too much time spent feeling sorry for himself, he knew. Had he forgotten completely how to feel for another?

"I'll 3; uh 3; I'll just clean up here, little 3; Traveler."

The boy didn't answer still. He just lay there.

Kallen couldn't blame the kid. The pilot had given the kid nothing. No reason to answer. Just a so far very empty promise. The man stood, and busied himself cleaning the boy, changing the diaper. For the first time, the kid said nary a word. Perhaps he just didn't care anymore. Kallen knew he was to blame for that too. Who could blame the kid, if he had lost all respect for a man who could act like Kallen did.

"Now 3; uh 3; how about it, Trav," Kallen said, after completing the diaper change. "Are you still hungry for some of this delicious 3; paste?" The joke fell flat into a continuing silence. He waited, but the boy just lay there, breathing steadily now, slowly, calmly. The tears had stopped, and he had turned his head a bit to the side, as if not wanting to see the man directly in his line of vision.

"Trav," Kallen almost whispered this time, almost hesitant to break the prolonged silence, "could I 3; do you 3;"

"You don't even know my name, do you?" the boy said finally, his voice drained of all emotion.

Kallen couldn't answer. He just sat back down on the edge of the bed, wearily, feeling the shame. He wanted to answer, to explain. There was a reason he didn't know the kid's name. There really was a 3; reason.

But not good enough, he knew. Now he couldn't look at the boy's face. He just looked down at the blank white sheet beside the boy's shoulder.

"You called me Trav. My name's Trevor. Trev, not Trav. Serge used to call me Trev. You didn't 3; even 3; know 3; my 3; name." The boy measured the sentence, letting the words drop heavily.

Not a question this time. A statement. Indictment and conviction, all at once.

Silence again. The kid turned his head back up, and opened his eyes, to look into Kallen's face.

The man felt himself breathing, faintly. He felt his own lips trembling now. He lifted his eyes, to stare off into space blindly, at the wall, at the bedside table, at anything 3; except into the boy's eyes.

Trevor waited, then finally knowing the answer, almost whispered, "I thought so. Now, I'm feeling really tired. I'd just like to sleep. Could you leave, please?"

Kallen took the blow, knowing that he deserved to be dismissed, just like that. That was exactly what he had earned from this boy.

He stood, took a towel and covered the soiled area on the sheet with it, then laid the boy down upon it. Then he stooped to clean the splattered food from the floor, and arose to look once more upon his charge, feeling at a loss for what he should do next. Trevor had closed his eyes now, and indeed looked like he was sleeping. Kallen backed towards the door and silently slipped out of the room.

Kallen turned and leaned his forehead against the cold metal of the door, feeling drawn back into the boy's room, feeling the need to renew his apology, and then to apologize again, and again 3; yet knowing that a mere apology wasn't enough 3; wondering what in creation would ever be enough.

He had actually hurt a boy! Out of his own grief, he had struck out at a helpless little invalid boy.

Such a big man he was! Pilot of a starship! Tough guy, who lashed out at a little boy.

So, what could he do about it? How would he make it up to the k 3;

Even with his head down, and his eyes closed, the flashing of the hallway warning lights seeped into his consciousness. He opened his eyes. A yellow alert. Ship's sensors had detected some small threat. Probably onboard. This old bucket was falling apart.

Quickly he stepped down the corridor to the first wall monitor. There it was on the ship's diagram. The problem. That damned pressure sensor in the Evac Chamber. It was registering false again. A quick check showed that both doors to the chamber had tight seals. He had flooded the chamber when he reentered from the last hull repair, so there was no reason for the sensor to read a vacuum.

Kallen cancelled the yellow alert and recycled the sensor. Now it showed full pressure. He mentally filed the problem away – something to check it out tomorrow.

His thoughts returned to the ki 3; damnit! To Trevor! The boy had a name!

He walked to his cabin, and immediately brought up the manifest. Traveler 109, Trevor Seaman. Enroute to the CPS Children's Home on Olympus.

No doubt enroute to a lifetime of nameless neglect. No doubt the kid knew it too, and 3; here, Kallen hadn't even made the slightest effort to treat him like an individual.

Kallen felt drained. Too weary to think anymore. He saw the noodlenode just laying there beside his bed, and almost without conscious direction, he got up and walked over to the bed, sat down on the edge, picked up the noodlenode and started to punch in a scenario. One of those he hadn't yet tested. How about, where Robbie and he were out on the patio, and there were two other people there, but Robbie and he didn't care, they just 3;

He let the helmet fall back onto the bedside table. Almost clinically he examined his feelings. Why all of a sudden, did he feel so lifeless? Why for the first time, did the thought of reliving a memory of being with Robbie leave him emotionless? Why all of a sudden did the thought of Robbie also make him think of Trevor?

He got up, walked to the door and out into the corridor. Now that the yellow alert was off, the corridors looked as empty as they indeed were – subdued light interrupted the darkness in small arcs from floor and ceiling outlets. He headed off aimlessly, unthinkingly, not even registering the turns or intersections, till finally he found himself standing still in the observation bubble, staring unseeingly out into deep space. The once white, but now battered and scarred panels of the ship's hull dropped away at his feet, and swept away on all sides, the smooth surface punctured by vents and pimpled with jets here and there. Kallen didn't even notice.

Finally it dawned on him, what he was looking at. Out there, so far away 3; and getting father away with every passing moment. Such a platitude, but true nevertheless. He was looking at his past. He was looking at Robbie. At Portal. At The Crash. At the good times before it, and the very bad times after.

What do they say, about grief? First comes denial. Then anger. Then deal-making, and acceptance, and 3; Well, something like that.

So where did that place him now? He'd been looking back, into the past, for a long time now. Which meant, back at Robbie. His very existence, these last months, had been all about looking back, preserving the memories 3; making sure that Robbie would always be remembered.

Surely that was a good thing!

But then, why did he feel so miserable now? Why did he feel like 3;

Of course it was all about how he had treated Trevor. Was the past something he had to get over, in order simply to lead a civil life, in order to show the most common of courtesy, the most basic form of compassion? Surely not! What did it take away from Robbie, from the memory of Robbie, to show just a little compassion for that little boy laying all alone in his cabin?

Damnit, whether he was in denial, or anger, or acceptance – none of that mattered. Whether Trevor was a boy, didn't matter. That Trevor needed him, that Trevor needed some care, some sincere concern – that's all that mattered right now.

Kallen turned back and stepped out of the viewport, and headed slowly back to his cabin. This was the time of evening he had reserved for work on the noodlenode simulations, but now he wondered if he had it in him to do that tonight.

He stepped inside to his suite and stopped. Now what? Sleep? Read?

Think?

He was tired of thinking. He knew the answers anyway. Pretty simple. He'd been a heel. He had hurt a little boy. Now he would have to change all that.

He shambled lazily over to his console, and flopped down into the cushioned chair. Leaning back, and swiveling sideways to the desk, he lifted his legs up and propped them on the edge. Idly he reached out with his right hand and flicked on the room monitor for the kid.

For Trevor, damnit! The kid had a name! Use it!

Kallen's blood ran cold all of a sudden. He dropped his feet to the floor, and sat upright – Trevor wasn't asleep anymore. Maybe he had been feigning sleep after he asked Kallen to leave. Now he was just laying there on his back, looking up at the ceiling, the lights on 3; and crying again.

The soft, halting sobs, the boy's heaving chest, the tear-stained redness down the side of his face 3; oh God! Was he crying out of fear? Loneliness? Hurt?

Kallen suddenly knew exactly how he was going to spend this evening.

He stood quickly, and looked about the cabin, considering what he would need. What the boy 3; what Trevor would need. A couple of heavy towels, some lotion and body wash from the bathroom 3; and 3; dang! He had forgotten all about the goodies stashed away in his locker.

There were a couple of cokes hidden down in there – he rummaged around and fished them out triumphantly. Looking around, he noted for the first time on this trip that his kitchen was fully stocked. Probably lots more goodies there. Things a little boy would like a little better than food paste from a tube.

Kallen waited outside Trevor's door after buzzing to get in. The boy made him wait a bit longer than normal.

When the door swooshed open, he saw that Trevor had stifled his sobs, but looked over at him in surprise. Never before had he returned here, after the suppertime visit. Of course the room lights were still on. A quick check of the cabin logs had shown that Trevor had never turned the lights off since coming on board. The first night, when Kallen had turned them off upon leaving, Trevor had ordered them back on as soon as Kallen was gone.

"May I come in?" Kallen asked. Another first. In the past, he had never asked for permission.

He waited, one foot just inside the portal, but the boy just slowly turned his head away.

Not the best of starts, Kallen thought, but then, there were a lot of wrongs to make up for.

He stepped quietly inside and let the door close behind him. "I was 3; uh 3; I finished my rounds, and uh, got bored, and decided, why not come by 3; see how things are 3; going." Kallen finished lamely, and mentally kicked himself. So stupid to lie like that.

Trevor slowly turned his head back, and closed his tear-laden eyelids to mere slits, and furrowed his brow. His mouth turned up at one corner, as if to say, 'yeah right.'

Such a little boy, Kallen thought, but at this moment, in this situation, he felt like their roles were suddenly reversed. Trevor had so many problems. He wasn't all that good looking. He was paralyzed. None of that mattered now – he had right on his side. Both of them knew who was the supplicant here. Which of them commanded dignity. Which of the two commanded respect.

It dawned on him how, in all the boy's ramblings, on a 100 different subjects, he had never even once said an unkind word about anyone or anything. Amazing! He lay here immobile, victim of a horrible calamity, abandoned by his own Dad, whom he still expressed love for, ward of an uncaring or overworked state bureaucracy, and he still maintained a cheerful, wonder filled outlook on everything. He had endured endless humiliation at Kallen's own hands. And yes, some verbal abuse. Even some less than gentle, if not abusive physical treatment. Yet the worst he had ever offered, in return, was a request that he be left alone to sleep.

"I, uh 3; look! I found some cokes buried in my storage locker. We can snap 'em open a little later, if you want."

Trevor raised his eyebrows. At least a little sign of interest! Kallen thought. He grasped at that opening, and suddenly found himself wanting to fill the room with cheer and talk, and movement.

Awkwardly, he stepped forward and deposited the cokes on the bedside table. Trevor followed his every motion with his eyes.

"Hey, I was thinking, Trevor, that maybe you'd like a bath," he said enthusiastically, holding up the towels and bath oil. The boy wrinkled his brow again, silently questioning.

"Yeah, you haven't lived till you've had a low-grav bath. Not many tugs this size have them, but you're in luck," he continued. "Tommie! Bath time."

Instantly he felt warm air start to flow into the room, raising the temperature so there would be no chill when the bath was done.

"Who's Tommie?" Trevor said, finally breaking his silence.

"Ah, that's what I call the computer. He's a friend of mine. He can be your friend too, if you want. He's just a little guy, like you."

"Computers aren't little boys," Trevor muttered in disgust. Kallen could see he was still bitter over what had happened earlier. He didn't blame the boy.

"Well, this one is. That's the way I think of him, anyway. Better get to know him – he knows you well enough already! Can't hide anything from the ship's computer, after all. If you so much as fart, Tommie knows about it."

"I don't ever 3;" Trevor started to object, then sullenly turned his head away from the man. I t looked like he was blushing.

Damn, Kallen thought, another reminder that he's like a helpless vegetable laying there, not even in control of his bodily functions. Kallen knew he had to be more careful in what he said. The boy had enough cause for humiliation – no need to rub it in.

"Look, Trev, there's one 3;"

"I thought it was Trav," the boy interrupted him, sounding just as bitter as before.

Kallen tried to take a more formal stance beside the boy's bed, his hands clasped in front of him, his shoulders back, but allowing himself to look down at Trevor. "Well, yes," he said contritely, "ah, I did call you Trav. I apologize for that, Trevor. I really did know your name was Trevor, it's just that 3; well 3; I 3; oh, no excuses – I blew it. But I didn't mean it as an insult or anything – I was just thinking in my head about calling you the Little Traveler, and , well, 'Trav' just popped into my head. I tend to give nicknames to people 3; and computers, as you can see, and 3; well 3; forgive me?"

Trevor slowly turned his head back towards Kallen. He looked up at him sternly. "Little Traveler, huh? You really thought of that? About me?"

"Uh 3; yeah!" Kallen hastened to answer, seeing another tiny glimmer of real interest from the boy. He wasn't quite sure what he had said right, but it seemed that he had.

"Alright, I forgive you," Trevor intoned solemnly.

Those words, coming so seriously from the little boy, would have been comical to Kallen normally, but somehow he just couldn't take it that way, right now. Trevor took this very seriously, indeed. Kallen realized he had better do the same.

"Thank you."

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Trevor seemed to nod his acceptance of the man's apology.

"Well, as I said, there is one thing about this bath. I'll have to take it with you, since you're 3; well, since you're paralyzed," the pilot said.

"We'll take it together?" Trevor asked, his eyes suddenly wide in surprise.

"Sure, I figure after five days underway, we both stink. We just don't notice it!" Kallen actually took a shower every night. At least he got a little smidgen of a grin from Trevor. "You don't mind, do you? It's just us guys."

"No, it'll be ok," Trevor answered nonchalantly, quickly masking any humor he felt.

"Kewl. Tommie has everything nice and warm for us, so 3; let's get to it," Kallen said, as he started undressing. "Well, you're already ready. So, I guess it's just me."

He noticed the boy's eyes on him as he pried his shoes off, shucked his shirt, then quickly undid his pants and let them fall to the floor too. Some men might become a little self-conscious, after spending most of their time isolated, piloting an inter-stellar scow. Kallen never fell prey to the lazy routine, however. He had always kept himself in good shape, and didn't mind letting others see it, much less a boy. Even this boy. Robbie had always loved to see his lover naked, standing tall, all 6'2" [1.85 m] of him. His sandy brown hair was cut rather short, and elsewhere on his body was soft and light, even around his penis. He stayed in good shape with exercise, but had never been a body-builder. He was long and slim, in every way, as Robbie used to say. His dick swayed loose now, all 5 inches [12½ cm] of it soft. It would grow to a slim 8 inches [20 cm] when hard. Just the right thickness for fucking boys, although he would never be able to get all of his meat inside a boy. His balls hung full and heavy, and lifted his flaccid, hooded tool out.

Trevor looked suddenly flushed, and averted his gaze. Perhaps embarrassed at seeing him nude, Kallen guessed. He reached out and pulled the sheets down the boy's body, then bent to undo the diaper.

Trevor let out a little gasp, and started to say something, then stifled it. Right on cue, Kallen thought, as if from habit. But this time the boy was still too hurt or angry to talk. He just turned his head away again. Kallen pulled the tabs and drew the diaper flap down, and immediately understood the source of the boy's sudden blush. His little penis was sticking up, straight as an arrow, and red as the boy's cheeks, around the circumcision scar. The little bare glans was inflamed too. The two inch [5 cm] shaft pulsated in time with the boy's heartbeat, lifting itself even more from off the plane of his hairless pubic mound. His ballsac was drawn up tight, as if his testicles too were hiding in embarrassment.

Kallen felt the boy's hurt, for the first time since he came on board. Felt the humiliation, at having his privacy invaded at a moment's notice, time and again. Suddenly he felt the need to do just as Trevor had always done, to say something, anything, to distract attention from the obvious 3;

"You 3; you're going to like those cokes, Trev. Maybe when we get out of the bath, or 3; or tomorrow, maybe, we can pop the tabs. They'll chill up in a sec, and go down ice-cold. I always love a cold coke, how about you? You know, back in my schooldays, we used to collect those tabs and 3;

His words trailed off lamely, as he saw that Trevor still held his head turned away.

"Well, enough of that," he finished quietly. "How about I shut up and get us into the bath?"

He quickly shifted around the end of the bed, and walked to the bathroom door. It opened on his approach. He tossed the towels and the bath soap on a shelf next to the tub, then turned back.

Now, what's the best way to pick up a boy who is paralyzed from the neck down, Kallen wondered. Up till now, Trevor had lain in bed continuously. There had been no need to lift him off. He would be like a limp rag. His head would have to be supported, above all.

Kallen approached the bed hesitantly, rubbing his hands together. "Ok, Trevor, let me 3; just slip my hand under your shoulder here, and 3; uh, behind you neck,' he said, bending low over his charge. Trevor looked up at him with rounded eyes, looking almost fearful.

"Don't worry. I'll be gentle," Kallen said soothingly. With one hand he lifted the boy's shoulder, and slipped the other beneath. Then he reached with his other arm across Trevor's tummy, and down on the other side, to get beneath his buttocks, and just rolled the boy towards him, lifting, bringing him smoothly to his chest. In one easy motion, he clasped the boy's limp body to his own, and laid the boy's head on his shoulder. He felt Trevor's hot breath against his neck, and felt his smooth, soft and warm flesh pressed against his muscular body. He cupped the boy's bottom in his hand.

"Ok Little Travele 3;"

"Oh, you're going to insist on calling me that?" Trevor interrupted. Oddly enough he didn't sound really all that angry about it.

"Dang, I'm sorry. Me and my nicknames. I 3; don't know why I always do that, Trevor."

"That's ok," Trevor sounded easily resigned to it, although unemotional. "You can call me that. Nobody ever gave me a nickname before."

"Oh! Well, then, Trav you are! My Little Traveler."

Kallen thought he felt the boy sigh against his neck – a satisfied sort of exhale. He guessed that for once he had said just the right thing. That perhaps the boy had wanted him to say that all along. For the first time, he felt like he had connected with Trevor on a personal level. It felt good. Real good.

It came as something of a surprise to him, but he realized that suddenly it mattered a great deal to him how Trav felt. He clasped the boy to him a little tighter, and felt the warmth flowing between them. This boy needed to be cherished a bit.

"You're so light 3; Trav. I better hold you tight, or you're going to float away in the bath."

"Really?" the boy responded so quickly, and with such tension in his voice, that Kallen realized immediately that he had touched another raw nerve. He could feel the quickened breath on his neck, as if Trav were suddenly very frightened. It was just the opposite of what he had intended.

"Not really, Little Traveler," he hastened to say. "I won't let you out of my arms anyway."

He strode into the bathroom and turned around, facing away from the bath, so that Trav could see it. "Ok, now, here's the bath chamber." He hitched the boy up a bit, so that he could more easily look over the man's shoulder. "See, it's just a small enclosed pool. When we get in, I'll seal the door, and we'll go to low grav. You'll feel even lighter than you do now. We'll retain just enough gravity to keep the water from floating around – it's really relaxing! Just wait till I start the jets 3;"

"No 3; no 3; d-d-don't turn on 3; a-any jets, ok?"

"Well 3; ok. But why not, it really feels 3;"

Trav interrupted again, sounding both frightened and actually indignant. "Look, back on Portal, they gave me a bath one time, and this 3; worker left me there 3; and I started slipping down, and I felt these jets pushing me 3; and 3;"

"Oh God," Kallen exclaimed. "And you couldn't resist it. Thank goodness you didn't dr 3; well look, Little Traveler, that's not going to happen this time, for sure. I won't let you go. Not once. Just hold on to 3; dang! Just don't worry, I'll be holding onto you the whole time. OK?"

"Oh 3; o-ok 3; but, not jets, ok?"

"Sure, no jets. Tommie," Kallen called out as he turned back towards the bath stall. "Open the bath."

The transparent door to the stall suddenly popped open with a hiss, as the seal released. Kallen had his hands full, but leaned forward and caught his finger tips against the door frame and pulled it all the way open, then stepped into the oval tub. His bare feet sank a fraction of an inch into the pliant, but rather firm and smooth surface. It was nicely warm to the touch.

He reached back around the door frame for the bath oil, then said, "Tommie. Seal the door." His voice seemed to reverberate within the confines of the bath chamber. The sides and roof were all transparent plexi. It looked like a standard bath, but he knew better. He had a couple of surprises in hand for Trav, and smiled in anticipation.

With an audible hiss of air into the seal tubes, the door shut and locked into place. "Tommie, start the bath. No jets," he said, as he slowly, cautiously started to sit down in the tub. Trav's legs slipped to the sides of the man's legs as he bent, and dangled free, until they touched the bottom of the tub. Kallen felt the awkwardness of the boy's position, halfway down, so he carefully repositioned the boy in his arms, turning him so that he could cradle him like a little baby.

One look at Trav's face, and he knew the boy was still worried. It was so odd to see, since the boy's limp and lifeless limbs seemed totally relaxed – well, he realized, of course they would feel that way!

Water, heated to perfection, started to spill into the tub from the jet spouts, but without any force.

"Here we go!" Kallen smiled down at the boy, as he felt the chamber transition almost immediately to low grav. Suddenly, he felt like floating, like weights had been lifted from every part of his body. Still there was enough force to keep him firmly ensconced against the warm sides of the tub.

"Feel it?" he asked, looking down at Trav again. If anything, the boy was even more alarmed, his breathing visibly faster, his eyes wide with fear.

Kallen held him a bit more firmly, feeling the warmth of the boy's body against his arms. His left hand cradled Trav's head, his arm behind the boy's shoulder. With his right he pulled Trav's midsection closer, still cupping his bottom.

"Look, Trav, you really don't need to be afraid. I'll hold you."

"Easy for you to say. You don't know what it's like to almost drown." Trav's eyes flitted about, never settling on anything, much less Kallen's gaze.

"Well, actually, I do."

"You do?" Trav looked up at him questioningly.

"Oh yeah! You know, I took a trip back to Earth one time."

"You did?"

Kallen was pleased. He figured if he could keep Trav's mind occupied, he would loosen up a bit, and not be so afraid. "Yeah! I was about 18. Not much older than you. Probably the most adventurous thing I ever did – I had saved up for years, and my parents pitched in. You know, you go down there, you don't have all the things we take for granted nowadays. Well, I joined a bunch of kids going down there for the world tour. Now, one of the things we did, was take a canoeing trip down the Rio Grande River. You ever heard of it?"

"No."

"Well, it's ah 3; well, it's really wild there still. The river is like bounded on both sides by steep canyon walls for much of the way, and there are waterfalls and rapids all along it. The water's generally kind of muddy, swift flowing much of the way, and you hear those waterfalls for miles away, echoing against the canyon walls. Well, I thought I was a pretty brave kid. But man, I was just scared shi 3; I mean, I'd hear the roar of those rapids ahead, and just about pee in my 3; well, one time going down one of the really steep rapids, our canoe overturned, and I thought I was a goner. I just about lost it, right there. The others pulled me out ok. What made it worse, during the whole time, was that everyone else just thought it was so much fun. I couldn't tell anyone that I was scared to death."

Kallen shivered involuntarily, "Still hurts, to think about that time."

"It does?"

"Yeah, no one likes to think they're a coward. And I don't really think I am, but 3; well, I guess there's just some things that each person is afraid of."

"So 3; so I guess you do understand how I feel in this bath." Trav sounded surprised.

"Yep, that's why I'm going to hold you close and take care of you the whole time. We'll make it good. You know, even on that trip down the river, there was one moment, one brief moment, when I was just about as happy as I'd ever been."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, we had come to this place along the river, where the canyon wall retreated away from the river a bit, and there was a wide flat sandy beach, a couple of hundred feet wide on the south shore. Lots of driftwood had washed up there, and here and there were clumps of tall grass and reeds, and a couple of trees that had withstood the floods through the years. The river flowed real calm along that stretch. It was far away from any rapids, so the rumble and roar that scared me so much was all forgotten for a while. There was a cloudless blue sky above, it was warm there, but not real hot, with a breeze floating off the river waves. The grass was waving in the wind. Oh man, it was so peaceful.

Well, while the others just lazed around on the beach by the canoes, I wandered off barefoot, looking around. You'll never guess what I found."

"What?"

"About fifty feet [15 m] in from the bank of the river, surrounded by tall grass, I found a pool, just about the size of this tub. Just about this deep too. And I'm telling you, the water was so clear that I could see each grain of sand down in the bottom of it, maybe a foot deep. I dipped a toe into it, and it was hot! I had found a hot spring! Right on the shore of the Rio Grande. Well, it didn't take long for me to get out of my clothes, and down into that pool, and I've never felt anything so wonderful in my life. I just luxuriated in it. Surrounded by the tall grass, with just a whisper of a breeze rustling their tops, sitting in that crystal clear warm water, soft white sand molding to my body, letting me sink into it, looking up at a crystal clear blue sky. I'm here to tell you, it was like magic. A moment of magic, in my lifetime."

"Sure sounds like it."

"It was. I remember it was so quiet and peaceful, that I almost fell asleep. But when I opened my eyes, far up in that clear sky, I saw a bunch of white sea gulls or swans or something, flying high up, in that V formation that birds use. For a moment I wondered where they were going. But then I thought, I didn't care. There was no place on Earth, no place even in the universe, that I'd rather be than right there in that pool."

"Wish I could see it."

"Well 3; you can, Little Traveler."

"I can? How?"

"Well, I can create magic moments right here, right now. Just for the two of us. All you gotta do is lay your had back against my arm, and close your eyes, and imagine that you're there, in that pool, hidden in the reeds along the shore of the mighty Rio Grande 3; want to try?"

"Oh 3; ok," Trav said, looking up at Kallen with a wondering look, one that just thrilled Kallen, because he knew he had connected again with the boy, knew that he had made him forget his fears for just a while, at least. He felt the boy's trust too, watching him close his eyes, and lay his head back against his protector's arm.

"Tommie. Memories. Rio Grande. Spring." Kallen intoned quietly.

In an instant, the enclosed tub, just a fixture within a space-going mass of steel and cargo, was seemingly transported to another time and place. The warm water, pouring silently into the tub through evenly spaced vents, suddenly started to seep up through sparkling clean granules of sand. The humid air inside the chamber suddenly transformed into the life-giving, clean and wind-swept air of Mother Earth. The always present background noise of the engines was replaced by the sound of the breeze brushing the grass stems one against another, a hushed, whispering symphony.

"You can open your eyes now, Little Traveler."

Trav opened them, and blinked in surprise. His mouth fell open. "I 3; how did you 3; do this?" he managed to whisper, his voice so high with wonder.

"Oh, it's just 3; a little bit of magic – well, ok, a couple of tera-bytes of computing power, and a little help from Tommie, and, well – what do you think?"

"It's just like you described it."

"Yeah."

They both remained silent for a while, just soaking in the warmth, breathing in the beauty. Kallen watched Trav's eyes, feeling a thrill that he hadn't expected, to be sharing this with the little boy.

"You know, Trav," Kallen finally broke the silence. "I never showed the others, that day. I couldn't bear to share with them that magical place that I had found. They didn't understand my fears. I couldn't imagine that they would ever understand how I felt about finding the little place of peace, on that terrible trip. I've never even shown this to anyone since. Not even 3; well, I just 3; never did."

"But you showed it to me," Trav looked at him again, his eyes narrowing again, but not like earlier in the day, with hurt. Kallen could see the boy's question in his gaze.

"I don't know. I think I wanted to show you, Trav, because you'll understand. I know you understand what it's like to be all alone. What it's like to be left out. How it feels to be 3; afraid 3;," Kallen let his words trail off, as Trav closed his eyes. A few tears formed in the boys eyes, and Kallen felt him breathe deeply. He felt the weight of the boy's head rest back even more, in the crook of his arm, as if suddenly Trav had released all his tensions, and given himself to the man, for safe-keeping.

It was at that moment, knowing that he had given just a bit of his private magic to Trav, knowing that the boy was granting him at least a bit of forgiveness, by relaxing into his arms, that Kallen felt more like a man than any moment in his entire life. He felt his penis hardening, rising between his flesh and Trav's. He felt his shaft hot against the boy's bottom, his swelling glans pressing up and peeking out beyond Trav's leg. He didn't worry that the boy might feel his manhood. It just seemed so right. This was what being a man was all about!

He started to ladle warm water onto Trav's tummy, then up onto his chest and arms, letting it trickle back down into the spring-fed pool. He reached for the bath soap and poured some onto the large sponge sitting on the verge of the pool, then started to slowly and gently wash the boy with it. Trav's legs rested partway out of the water, as he sat in Kallen's lap, so Kallen washed them too. Then his shoulders and his neck, treating every exposed part of the boy's body to the soothing touch of the soft, soapy sponge. Finally, he dropped the sponge into the pool, took a bit of the bath oil on the tips of his fingers, and delicately, ever so gently applied it to Trav's little penis and balls, and down in the crease between his pubis and his thighs, down along his perineum, and down beneath the water to dip into the rim of his crinkled little anus. Trav remained soft. He could feel, by the weight of the boy's head, that Trav was fast drifting into sleep.

Ever so slowly, Kallen let himself slip down a bit more into the pool, feeling the warmth of the sand nestling around his thighs and his bottom. He rested his shoulders against the grassy bank. Carefully, he straightened Trav's legs, pushing then down along his own, then nudged the boy over onto his stomach, against Kallen's belly.

In all the movement, his erection sprang up between their bodies, and he felt his hard shaft pressing into Trav's own soft penis. His foreskin had stretched tautly, and slipped down over the flared rim of his glans, leaving it sensitive and exposed to even the slightest of motion between their two bodies. It felt so strange, to be so aroused, because he had no sense that this moment was charged with anything overtly sexual. Yet while caressing Trav's body, while soothing him, while gently laving him with the warm water, cleansing and refreshing him, trying to lift the boy's spirits, it somehow seemed so natural to him to feel the familiar rising tension in his loins that would come from making love with a boy. He wasn't making love to Trav 3; or was he?

It wasn't something he wanted to think about now. No analysis. No thoughts. Especially 3; no memories. He just wanted to close his own eyes for a moment and continue to bathe Trav 3; perhaps cleanse both of them, boy and man, together 3; in spirit.

He soaped Trav's back, taking special care with each of the slowly healing sores, and massaged the warmth into the boy's limp and seemingly lifeless form. The boys arms and legs lay unmoving, but for the motion that Kallen imparted to them. His flesh lay still – even it's cold tautness was replaced with the slackness of total relaxation. Kallen noted again how little muscle tone the boy had. Something more for him to work on.

Trav's buttocks clenched and clasped, just as a normal boy's would, when Kallen let the sponge slip down between his cheeks, yet the soft mounds barely had enough flesh to hide the tiny pink funnel of his anus. If ever a boy were wide open to a man's touch, it was this boy. Kallen simply washed along Trav's groove lovingly, and so lightly did he cleanse the boy's anus, that Trav lay perfectly still.

Down along his thighs, Kallen washed the boy's skin clean, from the days, perhaps weeks, of laying in bed. Then the back of his knees, and his calves. He bent each of Trav's legs up, at the knees, and washed each of his feet in turn.

He finished off with liberal strokes of the sponge across Trav's whole body, dipping it again and again into the pool, to let the warm, seemingly healing waters, wash over them both. Then, for long, languid moments, he just held Trav still, embracing him, cherishing him. Kallen felt his erection slowly subside, but without any of the frustration he would normally have felt, at being deprived of an orgasm. He wondered, feeling the boy's heartbeat through his own chest, whether this moment alone wasn't just as fulfilling as any climax he had ever felt.

He thought Trav was asleep now, feeling the slow exhale of his hot breath against his chest, yet he still needed to shampoo his hair and wash his face. He looked down at the unkempt curls, and smiled. How like the boy! Wavy, looking tousled and uncombed – uncared for. Kallen's smile disappeared. He himself had played a part in that.

No more. He knew it without even consciously thinking it. As long as he had a say in it, Traveler 109 would find things a bit different, from now on.

He touched the boy's hair. It was soft and dry – it's fine strands lifting apart from each other, springing to his touch, giving Trav that unkempt look. His tresses needed to be tamed, and brushed. They would lay beautifully about his head, curling naturally, if only someone would care. As Kallen now cared.

Once again he carefully, gently rolled Trav's body over on top of his own, and he pushed himself back up to a sitting position. He shifted the boy's body around, pivoting him in his lap, till he could lay his head in the crook of his left arm. Then he dipped the boy's head back, letting the warm waters soak into Trav's tresses. With his free hand, he applied the bath oil and kneaded and spread it, to cleanse each strand. Trav never opened eyes. He was either feeling total bliss, or was dead to the world.

Another dip into the waters, and gentle quick swirls to wash the shampoo away, then Kallen rinsed and rinsed, bringing up clean warm waters from the other side of the pool in the sponge, and squeezing it into Trav's hair.

A few careful swipes with a corner of the sponge about Trav's face, and it was done. Just the trace of a smile formed on Trav's red lips, as Kallen dabbed the sponge about the boy's face, and the man knew his charge had awakened.

"Open your eyes, Sleepy-Head."

"Uhhhnnh, feels so good, I don't think I can," Trav answered drowsily, barely bothering to open his mouth, or even move his lips.

Kallen laughed softly, "Ok, Little Traveler, you sleep. I'll get you dried, then it's time for both of us to call it a night.

He paused, and looked down at his charge. How strange, that he had once thought of this boy as homely, or lifeless. Why, all one needed to do was look at the bright color of his cheeks, the glisten of his olive-tinted skin, the rich burnish of his auburn eyebrows 3; the white of those two protruding front teeth, and their marks on his bottom lip. No. This boy was no Adonis. He wasn't Serge. He wasn't Robbie. He was just a boy. Little Trav. Just a very special little boy.

Kallen struggled against the sudden constriction in his throat, to breathe in deeply. "Tommie," he almost whispered. "Bath is done."

In the blink of an eye, the Rio Grande idyll vanished, to be replaced by the translucent walls and glass door of the bathing chamber. The water started to drain away, much faster than it had poured in – to be replaced by an even warmer swoosh of swirling air, from drying jets.

Kallen stood, again bracing one arm beneath Trav's buttocks, and with the other letting the boy's body separate from his own, so the drying air could waft about them both.

When they were both pretty well dried, he said, "Tommie. Open the door, please."

It popped open with the familiar hiss of the seals being released, and Kallen stepped out. He grabbed up one of the towels and draped it over his charge, then carried him back into the bedroom.

"Trav," he whispered lowly. "Trav, wakeup for a moment, ok? I'll prop you here in the chair for a minute, so I can get you new sheets and all. Would you like your coke now?"

Trav kind of moaned acknowledgement, but barely opened his eyes, then closed them again. "Hmmh, I take that to mean you would just as soon sleep. Ok. Hold on, I'll be quick."

He laid the boy in the easy chair beside the bed, and propped his head up with a pillow. Trav looked so slack and limp, but for the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

It took but a moment for Kallen to change the sheets and get dressed, then he rolled Trav into his arms again and laid him flat upon the bed. He got a new diaper onto the boy, and put a pillow under his head. "I'm going to put you on your other side this time, Trav. Your sores are looking a lot bette 3;"

"Ohhhh nooo," Trav moaned weakly, miserably, opening his eyes all the way now, in alarm.

"You know I have to, Trav. Trust me on this."

"But you know that I'm 3;," Trav started to protest, but then just stopped, as if defeated. He pressed his lips together tightly, forcing back the tears, and just looked forlorn.

Kallen rolled Trav over on his side, facing the chair, and pulled up his covers, tucking them in around his outstretched form. "I bet you feel much better, after the bath, huh?" he said, wanting to change the subject.

"Yeah, but 3;" Trav squeaked out, his lips starting to tremble. His eyes were moistening. He obviously didn't want Kallen to see he was going to cry.

"Look, Little Traveler," Kallen spoke softly, and touched his hand to the boy's hair, smoothing it, letting the curls sift through his fingers, "there's no need to cry tonight. Or any other night, from now on. I'm staying here with you. I'll sleep right here in the chair."

"You 3; you will?" Trav gulped, his eyes suddenly wide open, questioning. His mouth opened, showing his wonder.

"Yeah. You and me, babe. Right here."

"But why 3; would you 3; do that?" It sounded as if the boy couldn't imagine such a thing.

"Hey, someone has to fight off all those monsters you keep talking about," Kallen tried to make light of it. He stepped back from the bed and flopped down into the chair nonchalantly, levered up the leg rest, and started pulling one of the old sheets over his own outstretched body.

"But 3; but you said there are no monsters." Trav squeaked out again, his high-pitched, rasping voice so perplexed.

"That's right, there are none. Sorry, I was just kidding again."

"Then 3; why are you staying?"

Kallen closed his eyes momentarily, and sank back into the comfortable recliner. He really didn't know what to say to the boy. Should he tell him that he cared? That he felt like it was one way to make up for being such a bastard earlier? That if there were indeed monsters in his imagination, then they just had to be banished forever? That he couldn't stand to sit at his monitor, ever again, and listen to the boy cry himself to sleep 3;

"Maybe I 3; maybe it's time that 3; aw 3; maybe I just like your company, Little Traveler," he finally said.

He saw Trav gulp, silently, his eyes so wide, still so disbelieving. The boy didn't say anything, but just scrunched his lips up on the right side of his mouth, as if he were considering it all.

Kallen stretched and gave a kind of fake yawn, feeling so awkward, not knowing what to say. "Now, you get some sleep, ok? I'll be here to watch your back," he finally said.

Trav didn't answer. He just looked across the intervening space between them, directly into Kallen's eyes, still looking like he just couldn't grasp what the man was saying. Or couldn't believe it.

Trav lay awake, looking a the sleeping visage of the man before him, long after Kallen himself had drifted off to sleep. The pilot had started to snore then, his head rolling off to one side, his mouth open. Trav just stared and stared at the man, wondering, going over and over in his head, about all that had happened this evening. From the gentle way that the man had picked him up, to take him to the bath, to the way he had held him so tight, their naked bodies touching each other, to the way he had so tenderly washed the water over every part of his body. To the sharing of secret fears, to the sharing of those long, silent moments in the bath, when neither of them spoke. To the moments when he felt so secure, for once in his lifetime.

To now.

Trav felt the tears start to trickle down his cheeks. Funny, for once, their wet trails didn't feel so cold on his flesh. They were warm, this time. Soothing. Relaxing.

He looked once more, through the veil of tears at the wavering image of the man laying protectively just a few feet away, and felt a release. He had no conscious control of his muscles, but he was somehow certain, that for once they felt so relaxed. All his tension was gone.

Finally! He could let himself 3; he could just let go 3;

"Computer," he started to say, then remembered. "Tommie. Please turn the lights out. I'd like to 3; sleep, now."

Chapter Two

"I can't 3; help it!" Trav rasped out right into Kallen's ear, screeching like an unoiled hinge. That sent shivers up the pilot's spine too! "You quit tickling me!" Trav commanded.

"I'm not doing anything!" Kallen protested gleefully. "I'm trying to massage your armpit."

"I don't 3;quit that! I don't think 3; I have any muscles in there!"

"Oh alright. I just thought it needed some attention too," Kallen said, as he slipped his fingers up a little higher and kneaded Trav's little shoulder. He felt Trav's contented sigh, hot against his neck.

They always had fun after their nightly bath.

The laughter helped Kallen forget those first days, when he was so cruel to the little boy. He hoped it allowed Trav to forget too 3; or at least, to forgive. Kind of like the healing balm he always spread on Trav's old bed sores – holding him so close, caressing him, massaging him – even the occasional tickle – helped heal them both.

For a moment, they both lapsed into a contented quiet

Kallen continued to caress and massage his little companion, loving the touch – sometimes he imagined himself sculpting, imagined bringing to life the perfect figure of a boy. Trav's body was ravaged by neglect and immobility – hardly what one might normally envision as the perfect form of a boy, yet in the last few days Kallen had come to know this boy's body better perhaps than he knew his own. Every soft curve, he had molded with his own hands. Every little bony joint, he had worked back and forth. Every shrunken muscle, or flaccid tendon, he had massaged. There was no spot on Trav's body, however private, that Kallen hadn't bathed and lotioned. If not THE perfect work of art, he certainly was Kallen's very own special little boy. He certainly was the most cherished. Robbie 3; Robbie had been that ideal, yet Kallen admitted to himself with some sadness, that he had never been this completely intimate with his lover.

Trav was his baby. He lowered his head, and kissed the boy's bare shoulder, resting against his chest.

They both felt the unexpected stream of hot urine spilling between their bodies at the same time. Neither moved. Trav couldn't. Kallen wouldn't.

The pilot deliberately acted as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening. He just continued to hold Trav outstretched on top of himself. He didn't even pause, but just kept gently caressing, running one hand, then the other so very slowly over Trav's back, and along his limbs, kneading, rubbing..

It felt so hot down there now, where Trav's little penis lay pressed between their bodies, as the fluid was released with such force, then spread gradually between them, over Kallen's belly, seeping down to wet both their dicks, and their balls, mixing in with Kallen's pubic hair, warming Trav's smooth, hairless flesh. As the flow continued, it seeped further down between Kallen's legs. He felt it's slight sting as it trickled across his anus, then gathered in a pool where his flesh touched the fabric of the recliner. It soaked into the chair, then was gone, leaving only its faint but pungent odor to scent the air.

Trav couldn't stop it. He hadn't consciously started it. He gasped meekly and in a wounded tone said, "I-I'm sorry, Kall, I 3;"

How quickly the mood had changed. Kallen sensed the boy's sudden tension, felt his quickened breath, heard his halting words. He was getting better at reading Trav's emotions, in the way he held his head, or how he used his eyes, or in the tempo and tenor of what he said.

Trav's words trailed off feebly, and Kallen could feel by the sudden rigidity in the boy's neck, that he was trying to will his bladder muscles to constrict, to stop the flow. Trav caught his breath, as if he wanted to scream out, to screech out his anguish. His cheek was suddenly hot against Kallen's skin – flushed with embarrassment, or anger, at himself?

Even as Trav strained, forced to once again acknowledge that terrible breakdown between his will and his body, his lips started to tremble, as they pressed into Kallen's neck. The man knew that tears would follow not far behind. Tears Trav had in abundance. He sometimes couldn't control them, either.

Kallen was indeed learning to read Trav's emotions, but he still had to learn how to deal with each situation like this.

He knew Trav couldn't pull his body away. He knew the boy couldn't stop his pee from spilling out between them. Knowing all that didn't stop the hurt, as he sensed the boy's mighty struggle. Trav unconsciously raised his head off of Kallen's shoulder, trying to edge away from the man's neck.

The man responded in the only way he knew how. He gently, lovingly tightened his hold beneath Trav's buttocks, and raised his other arm from Trav's back to cup the boy's head and pull it back down into the hollow against his neck.

"Shhhhhhhh, Little Traveler," he muttered softly.

He decided to confront the situation, rather then trying to ignore it. This was something too embarrassing to cover up with senseless chatter. "You know what?

"What?" Trav answered glumly.

"I think you've just anointed me," he said solemnly. He didn't want to make a joke of it. Trav wasn't ready for that. He didn't need to be laughed at.

Silence.

He wondered how Trav would react, so he just waited. He kneaded the boy's neck, feeling how stiff and taut the muscles were there.

Finally he was rewarded. Trav finally let his head lay back down onto Kallen's shoulder to nestle there, and he let out a little sigh.

"I peed on you, Kall. That's what I did," he said, sounding resigned. He sniffled, but successfully held back his tears.

"You did? It feels like a soothing balm, to me. I thought you were anointing me, for sure. There, it's all over now. Felt so warm," Kallen said, as Trav's bladder finally emptied itself. "We'll clean it up in a while. Let's just lay here a bit more, ok?"

Trav breathed in long and deep, then let his breath out in one quick sweep, as if he couldn't muster even one more ounce of strength. "Ok," he answered so despairingly, his spirit seemingly crushed.

They lay silent once again. Kallen removed his hand from Trav's neck and started kneading the boy's shoulders.

"What's anointing mean?" Trav finally muttered.

Kallen felt another involuntary shiver wash through his body, from his neck on down. Trav's hot breath there often triggered such a reaction, but he knew it was more than that. He felt an almost palpable thrill, at times, when they would talk like this. It was just so intimate – the boy's head resting comfortably and confidently, upon his shoulder, speaking just inches away from the man's ear. In turn, Kallen spoke almost as closely into Trav's ear. He could actually feel their chests and throats vibrating with their words. It was like having Trav living within his mind. Teaching him, caring for him, BEING with him – a part of him. Sometimes, he couldn't bear for these moments to end.

"Anointing is 3; pouring something 3; precious. Something holy, or valuable, or very special 3; you pour that on someone, to 3; ummh 3; to bless them, I guess. "

"I blessed you with pee, then," Trav responded in disdain.

"Yeah, I know, it was pee. But 3; how do I explain this, Trav? I'm not trying to make this sound weird or anything 3; it's not that it was pee, Trav 3; it's that 3; oh man 3; how do I say it 3; well 3; it was boy pee. It was YOUR pee. Those two things make it precious to me. It was something that I can only get from you. That I would only accept from a boy. Something I would only accept from you. Does this 3; make any sense at all?"

Trav didn't answer immediately, but when he did, as was sometimes his wont, he answered with another question, as if leaving all extraneous issues by the wayside, to go directly to the important stuff. "You're a boylover, aren't you."

Kallen wasn't too shocked. He had left himself open for that one. "Yes," he finally answered, in a hushed voice.

Neither of them spoke, then, for a while. Trav continued to rest his head on Kallen's shoulder, and to breathe now more evenly. Kallen felt like he was being anointed, again, this time with the very breath from the boy's lungs, heated within that little body, expelled next to his very skin. Trav's lips actually pressed against his skin 3; the gentlest little kiss, so light, so soft.

The pilot had no idea how to answer further, but there was certainly no reason to try to hide the facts. Trav had already said he knew all about boylove. Did that mean he knew about a boylover's devotion to everything about a boy? He knew that some men wanted sex with boys. But did he know about 3; a man's reverence for a boy? Did he know about a man giving himself to a boy, worshipping the very ground he stood on. About a man living for a boy? How to explain that to Trav? How to explain, that precisely BECAUSE he was a boy, receiving his pee like that was nothing short of an honor.

With Robbie, it had been like that from the first moment Kallen saw him. He had worshipped the 12 year old then, from afar, with an immediate and total reverence for Robbie's very boyhood – all the perfect lines of form and figure, that seize a man's soul, and bring him to awe. It was only after they met, that to his reverence for that perfect image of a boy, he added devotion to the actual spirit and being, that was Robbie himself. Then he added love. THEY had added love, together. They had added a union of their souls and bodies.

And now 3; with Trav? Kallen couldn't explain what he felt for Trav. It almost seemed that he was following the same path, but in reverse. They shared such incredible intimacies, as now. Such physical closeness that only lovers might share. Strangers don't whisper deep thoughts into each others ears! Strangers don't grow hard, their erections straining between their bodies – even as now, Kallen felt his own penis, lengthening, growing rigid, and he felt Trav's little cocklet stretching out against his own! Was that a union of their spirits? And their bodies? It happened whenever they lay together like this, or when they bathed – sometimes Kallen grew hard simply sitting in the chair beside Trav's bed at night, watching the boy sleep, knowing that he felt safe and secure.

With Trav 3; was there love? Perhaps 3; a sort of love? One that took nothing away from his memories of Robbie? Kallen certainly felt a devotion for the boy that uplifted his own soul with every instant he served the little guy. It wasn't pity. That much Kallen did know. Pity was what kept him coming back, during all those first days, when he was so cruel to Trav. No. Trav never even asked for pity. So was it a devotion to the beauty he now saw within Trav? The boy had none of the classic lines that had inspired artists from time immemorial to sculpt and enshrine the image of boyhood. He wasn't perfect. He wasn't 3; beautiful 3; yet he deserved reverence 3; for his will, his goodness, his courage and strength 3;

Yeah, being pissed on by this boy was an honor. Worship for what was within this boy, made Kallen a MAN! The erection he felt now, and every time they were close like this, was like a symbol of that worship.

He wondered what made Trav get hard too.

Not knowing what to say in words, Kallen could only try to say it with every soft stroke of his hands across Trav's slight body. With every ministration. With every step in his rites of devotion to the boy. His heart pumped blood furiously to his steel-hard dick, as he passed on to the next sacrament in their nightly ritual. "Here, Little Trav," he finally broke the silence. "We have to 3; get your hair combed," he strained, as he lifted the both of them up, and very slowly, carefully repositioned Trav in his lap. Trav's little dick popped upright as Kallen turned the boy over, it's delicate skin livid all around his circumcision scar, and even more scarlet, deep within the flesh of his swollen little glans. His skin glistened with the still undried urine.

Kallen's penis was crushed sideways during the turn. He reached between the boy's legs, grasped his tool, and levered it up to stand mightily rigid right there between Trav's little legs, pressing into his tender ballsac. The contrast hit Kallen like a hammer. He felt more aroused than ever in his life, as if his dick were going to grow and grow, it's enraged flesh darkening against the pale olive cream of Trav's thighs. Three inches [7½ cm] of his manhood rose above the Trav's legs. The girth of his penis dwarfed the boy's little tool – but together they symbolized something 3; they were man and boy. A man, and his boy.

Kallen made a kind of backrest of his left arm and shoulder, and leaned Trav back against it, sitting him up almost straight. He saw Trav's eyes wide with wonder, gazing down at their rock-hard dicks. Almost without thinking, feeling an irresistible urge to grasp it, he let his right hand seek his own shaft. He grabbed it full-fisted and squeezed tightly against the unyielding hardness of his tumescent flesh. His glans molded to his grip, and squeezed up tautly, pulling his foreskin down a bit, letting his own inflamed, almost scarlet colored meetus peek out. There was already a drop of clear pre-cum there, presaging a sex act that Kallen knew was never to be, but he did feel the growing ache in his heavy balls. He thought of the noodlenode, and Robbie. "I'll cum for you Robbie, soon 3; just 3; please, don't begrudge me what I'm feeling now, for this little boy!'

He shivered, feeling the electric shocks coursing through his body from his tortured penis. He released it with a sigh, then again, without even thinking about it, he let his palm graze forward. Slowly he slid it down and across the underside of Trav's own little penis, pressing it down against the boy's pubis. He heard the boy gasp as he slid his palm on up, giving the edge a brief nudge downward just as it crossed the tip of Trav's glans. Trav yelped, a meek and piteous little peep, inside his throat, his mouth closed. He was still staring down at his penis, wide-eyed.

Trav lifted his eyes, looking almost fearful, and gazed at Kallen. His voice rasped a bit more than normal, as he asked, "Kall 3; wh-why do you get hard 3; sometimes?"

This question was indeed like a shock. Kallen jerked away his hand, and shook the daze out of his eyes. Again he wasn't sure what to say. Could he explain it?! Even to himself?

Hurriedly he reached over to lower the foot rest, and leaned towards the table to grasp a brush. He took a deep breath, "Well, men and boys get hard when 3; when something arouses them 3;"

"No." Trav muttered, huskily. "I know all about that. Why do YOU get hardons sometimes, when we take a bath? I've felt you get hard. Or 3; like now, Kall? I know why I'm hard now. Why are you?"

It was like the boy had issued a challenge. Kallen wondered what Trav meant, when he said that he knew the reason he himself got hard. He held the brush momentarily in mid-air, then remembered what he was supposed to be doing. For a moment, he avoided Trav's eyes, and concentrated on bringing the brush up to the side of the boy's head. Gently he started untangling the soft tresses. They lifted to each stroke, straightened, then lay back upon themselves -fluffed up and curling at the ends. Trav's hair was so soft. Kallen liked to part it in the middle, so it lay rather flat on top, but the curls gave it so much body on the sides. When combed properly they made a halo of beautiful curls about his thin face.

Finally he let himself look again in Trav's eyes, and saw the unanswered question still waiting. He swallowed, then said. "Well, you and me, Trav. We have something special here. Do you feel it? When I hold you, or wash 3;"

"Do you love me?" Trav broke in.

Kallen stumbled, but couldn't swerve around that one, "Well 3; surely yes, Trav 3; I do love you, in a way 3;"

"But not like 3; the way I'm starting to feel about you," Trav said it without accusing. He had that way of his, of stating a question, rather than asking it.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, I didn't know how to feel, at first. After you started being nice to me. You're the only person, besides Serg, who was ever nice to me. Serg was my best and only friend. And 3; now, I guess I have you. You said things would be different, after that night when you got really mad at me, and 3; well 3;"

Trav paused and looked away pensively, his eyes narrowing, as if looking far away.

"I hope I have proved myself a bit, Trav. I'm sorry for the way I was at first. Every day since then, I've tried to make it up to you."

The little boy turned his head back towards Kallen. He looked straight into the man's eyes, then Kallen saw the boy's gaze move slowly about his face, as if recording it, examining it. Trav almost whispered then, "Yeah. You wouldn't hold me so close, if you didn't care, would you Kall?" He closed his eyes, and his face looked so peacefully at rest. "No one ever held me so close."

"I do care, Little Traveler. Very much."

Trav opened his eyes again, and breathed in deeply. "I loved Serg," he said. "I guess I 3; love you, too."

He briefly looked down again, at their dicks still standing erect. "That's why I get hard, Kall. I feel you, and think how you really do care, and I want what other boys have. I want you 3; to make love with me. But I don't know why you get hard, Kall 3; I've thought about it a lot, but 3; you never cum, when you get hard with me? We don't have sex. I wish we could. I never had anything like that, except with Serg. And we just played around a little, before 3; So, why do you get hard, if you don't feel like I do, and 3;" Trav's words drifted off so winsomely, his raspy voice even more broken than normal. His brows were raised high, his forehead wrinkled, questioning, wondering.

"There are 3; reasons for that, Trav," Kallen answered hoarsely, his voice choked from hearing Trav's halting declaration of love. Kallen wondered exactly how to respond. He met the boy's pleading gaze briefly, but then concentrated for a moment on the combing.

"What reasons?"

Yeah, what reasons, Kallen asked. And how to express them!? Especially, how to tell Trav in a way that wouldn't hurt him so much. Certainly his dick wasn't helping – it started to grow soft immediately, shrinking down between the boy's legs in striking contrast to the boy's still rigidly upright shaft.

"I 3; had a boy once," Kallen managed to say, his voice still quiet and husky. He couldn't go on, for a moment. He pursed his lips tightly, trying to fight back the emotion, and letting just the corners of his eyes grow moist. "He's gone now, but Trav, I 3; remember him so 3;"

"But you get hard when you're with me," Trav said, not understanding.

"I know I do, Little Trav, but 3;" Kallen exhaled.

"Are you thinking of him then? When you get hard with me?"

"No. Not that, Trav. Not that at all, it's just that 3;"

"I know I'm not pretty or sexy, but you do get that way every night, with me, so I just can't understand everything, Kall."

The pilot didn't say anything for a moment. Again he avoided Trav's questioning gaze, focussing on brushing the boy's hair, on either side of his head. "Look, I need to 3; lean you forward now, Trav, to get at the back of your head. I'll 3; uh 3; prop your chest forward, on my hand, like this," he said, as he placed his left arm across the boy's chest, and then spread his fingers wide. "Can you lean your head down a bit?"

Trav lowered his head, and Kallen started brushing again. The boy's head lolled up and down, with each stroke, his neck muscles offering all the resistance the little guy could muster, against falling forward totally, like a limp, stringless puppet.

His head down, his words muffled, Trav said sadly, "I guess I do understand. No man could ever truly love me, like I am. Like this. I can't even sit up straight. I know I'll never make love with any man, much less you."

Kallen wondered at his own cowardice. True, he couldn't yet completely understand his own feelings for this boy, but did he have to cop out totally? Deprived of a family, a home, even his own body – was Trav also to be deprived of all hope, for any happiness at all? And what the two of them were sharing here, on this voyage, was it a mere fantasy? Something that should or could ever be forgotten?

He finished brushing and fluffing Trav's hair in silence, trying to muster the courage, and the right words, to give the boy some hope. He thought of Robbie, and felt such infinite sadness – each moment with Trav, each thought of Trav, was a moment lost to the memory of Robbie. So was that the way of the world? Did he have to forget Robbie, in order to grant this little helpless boy in his lap, just a taste of love?

'Are you with me, Robbie?' he prayed silently. 'Is it alright to do this? I don't like it, when people tell me 'you have to move on, Kall,' or 'you have to get on with your life,' or worst of all, 'time heals all wounds'. They mean forgetting, don't they? I don't want to forget you, Robbie. Can't I build my own world? One where there's an infinite supply of love. Where I can always remember you. Always love you. Where I can also give this little boy here some of my heart too?'

In the end, he knew he had to build that world. Whatever he owed to Robbie, it could never change what a man owes to all boys. What this man owed to this little boy.

Kallen laid the brush back down, then wrapped both of his arms around Trav very gently and slowly, and hugged him, pulling him closer, being careful not to hurt his fragile frame, feeling every little bone in the boy's emaciated and limp body. He just held him then, for a long, long moment. Trav's head fell over to rest under his chin. The pilot bent his head and pressed his lips into Trav's curls, and kissed him there, making sure Trav could feel it, making sure Trav could hear and feel him sniffing in his hair.

Finally he spoke. "It doesn't 3; have to be that way, Trav."

"Yes, it does. No one ever loved me before. It's even worse now. All I ever wanted was what other boys had, but now I know it's imposs 3;"

"Look here," Kallen interrupted firmly, but still gently, softly. It was so silent in Trav's cabin, with just the faint background hum of the engines. He didn't need to raise his voice. He just wanted the boy to concentrate all his attentions on what he had to say now. He leaned back, and put the tips of his fingers just under Trav's chin, and lifted his face up. "I'm not going to let you limit yourself like that!" He shook his head no, looking directly into Trav's tear wet eyes. "There's no reason you can't find love in your life, Trav! You can have sex, too, if that's what you want. You can have it all, Trav. Being paralyzed, or not being pretty, doesn't take any of that away."

"How do you know. You just said you couldn't love me. Why would it be any different with any other man?"

"I meant 3; Trav, I meant 3;"

"Yeah, I know what you meant. Not you and me. Simple as that"

"I 3; got too much baggage, Trav. But 3; look, you said no one could love you now, but I 3; I do love you, Trav. I don't know how to define it, little guy, but I can't help but love you. And damnit, I get hard every time I touch you. What does that say? There's all kinds of love, Trav. I don't how much I can give anymore. I don't know if I can ever have sex with another boy again, but damnit, there it is. I'm not going to let you say you can't have it all, because you can! If things were different with me, who knows 3;"

Trav shook his head from side to side, and responded, "things aren't different, though, and they never will be. I'm the boy who's always been left behind, remember? I know the truth, Kall. Nothing you can say can take away from what I know. Look at you. You're the only man – just about the only person, period – who's ever been nice to me. I know you love me, in a way. I can feel it, the way you take care of me. But even you – you practically said it yourself, you could never MAKE LOVE with me."

"If things were different, maybe, Trav. It's not you, it's 3;," Kallen couldn't continue. He wanted to cry from heartache. The memories rushed in again – the love he had given so freely to Robbie – losing Robbie – dedicating his life to cherishing that boy's memory. Yet wanting so desperately now, to prove to Trav that he needn't be hopeless

"Yeah." Trav muttered again, knowing that Kallen had no answer. He sounded totally defeated.

Silence again. Kallen knew he had to prove to Trav that he was wrong. He didn't yet trust himself to be strong enough to do it. He had just proved how crippled he was himself, emotionally. Still, he had to give Trav some measure of love. The means was at hand. If he couldn't give of himself totally, right here, right now, then he could let Trav live that love in a different way – through the simulations.

"I can prove it to you, Trav," he said.

"Prove what?"

"That you're wrong. You want to experience what Serg had, then so be it. I can show you. And prove to you that you can have it all, someday."

"What do you mean, you'll have sex with me, like Serge had?" Trav said. Again it didn't sound like a question. More like sarcasm.

"I didn't say that. I mean 3;"

"Then what?!"

Kallen had painted himself into a corner. "Did you ever use a noodlenode?' he blurted out, without thinking it through.

"Yes."

"Then 3;," Kallen paused, the thought suddenly hitting him that the simulations he had been creating were very personal and private. Something he had made to keep Robbie with him always. Besides that, there were technical problems – he couldn't just reprogram overnight, what had taken him months to create. There were a thousand parameters specifically initialized for he and Robbie. Many hundreds of thousands, millions of node points taken directly from Robbie's own bio-scans. And his own.

He couldn't back down now, though. "I can set one up for you, Trav. I want to show you what it can be like for you, someday. At least you can feel some things. I don't want you to ever limit yourself, Little Traveler."

"Are you ready, Trav?"

"Yeah! Ready!" the little boy answered excitedly. Kallen had never seen him so happy, grinning, but with his mouth closed in anticipation, his lips taut, waiting. He lay in Kallen's own bed now, in the pilot's cabin. They had placed a pad beneath his bottom, but took the diaper off. If this worked, as intended, the last thing Trav would want was to have his little stiffie confined inside a diaper!

"Alright, here we go. Now, remember, at any time you can break out of the program. Just tell Tommie to stop it. Or me."

"Yeah, I remember." Trav said, confidently. Oh, he hadn't let Kallen forget for a moment, since waking up this morning, about his promise last night. He was ready, alright!

"Ok, and I'll be sitting right here the whole time, monitoring, watching," Kallen realized that he was saying it more as reassurance for himself, than for any doubts Trav had. It didn't hurt to go over all this, though.

"Yeah, now I'm not going to interrupt the game, unless you 3;"

"Kall!" Trav spoke out, then chuckled. "I've used noodlenodes before, remember? Just not for 3; uh, well you know, for sex!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Kallen gave in. There really wasn't that much cause for concern anyway. The worst that could happen was sensory overload, in any node simulation. Temporary unconsciousness. Still 3; "Alright, I can see you're ready, indeed," he ended sarcastically, seeing that Trav's dick had suddenly started to pulse and rise off his pubis.

"Yeah, you never knew I was such a horny little boy, did you?" Trav giggled.

"That didn't escape me, actually," Kallen countered. "Ok. Your call, Little One. Go for it."

He watched as Trav grinned again, so broad that his upper lip popped up over his two protruding front teeth. Such a little scamp! he thought. Horny, hormones raging inside that little paralyzed body. His little penis was standing up now, at a forty-five degree angle from his tummy. It looked like his engorged glans was about ready to pop! His balls were drawn up tight in anticipation, his ballsac outlining the two little bird's-egg shaped testes within. His chest was rising and falling faster now, and no doubt his heart was starting to race.

"Tommie. Noodlenode. Trav. Patio Party." Trav spoke a little more loudly than needed, his voice edgy and almost trembling with his anticipation. Exactly the words Kallen had taught him, to get the nodegame started.

Kallen forced himself to sit back, and take a deep breath, then relax. This could take a while. He sure hoped it was exactly what would bring Trav a little happiness.

"Where is this 3; place?" Trav wondered out loud, as he looked around, wide-eyed. Obviously a very well-to-do country home – weathered stone façade, vines trailing all over. "Must be twenty, thirty rooms."

"Twenty-eight, not counting the servants quarters," he heard Kallen say, from off to the side.

"How 3; how do you know, Kall?" Trav asked, his head craned, taking in the huge green, manicured lawn, the towering trees all round. He gripped the smooth polished edge of the glass-topped patio table that he was sitting next too, as if seeking something firmly planted in reality to hold onto.

"Haha," Kallen laughed. "Well I did create this little fantasy. Actually, it's my parents' home. My home, I guess. When I'm not off onboard Ganymede."

"Oops," Trav lowered his voice, and brought his hand to his lips. "Who's that?" he said, pointing to a man and a boy who sat huddled together at another table.

"Oh. Couple of friends of mine. Don't worry, they know all about us. You've been here many times before."

"Oh, I have?"

"Yeah."

The other two seemed to be watching. And mumbling something to themselves. Whatever it was, it seemed to amuse them Trav was starting to feel a little self-conscious, when suddenly the man looked directly at him, gave him a friendly wink, and smiled.

Sheepishly, Trav lowered his hand, and smiled back.

"Just ignore them," Kallen said a little too loudly, the humor evident in his voice. He obviously wanted to two to hear. "They'll be too interested in each other to bother with us, before long."

"Oh, alright," the men called out, laughing. "Ignore us, you two. We won't stare too much." Both of them purposely turned their chairs a bit away from Trav and Kallen, chuckling with their own private jokes.

"We're just having a little get-together, Trav," Kallen said reassuringly. "A few friends. Marcin and Red are just the first to arrive. So, what do you think of the place?"

"It's 3; late afternoon. A very early Spring, I see." Trav said matter-of-factly, looking about again.

"How can you tell that?" Kallen sounded surprised.

"Hmh! My turn to laugh," Trav said sardonically. "What do you think I did when Serg was off in my Dad's tent, on that campout. Great time to study the stars. Actually it's one of my hobbies. Astronomy. Look over there. The Little One is low on the horizon, south of the Sun. That only happens just after the Winter Solstice. So this is either a very unusually warm winter day, or a very early Spring. The trees are budding out. So 3; it's Spring. Earth 2221, to be exact. I was eight years old, that year."

"Oh well, pretend you're eleven," Kallen said. "But VERY impressive, Trav! You surprise me. I wonder what other hobbies you've indulged in. By the way, you want this, or not?" he urged forcefully, seemingly offering a challenge.

Trav finally twisted around in his chair towards Kallen, and almost fell back out of his chair! He heard raucous guffaws from Marcin and Red. No wonder they had been so amused! Kallen was standing beside him, wearing nothing but a little apron that barely covered his chest, and hung down narrowly to below his waist. It was pushed aside but the man's jutting cock, standing straight out from his crotch! God, it was hard! His foreskin was stretched taut about the fiery glans, pulled back enough that Trav could see Kall's piss slit, with pre-cum already seeping out. The magnificent dick swung just inches before the boy's wide-eyed face. Beside it, Kallen held out a plate, with a burger and some chips.

Kallen laughed too. It made his dick bob up and down. Trav felt dizzy, staring at it!

The boy was quick to recover, although he turned beet red, feeling everyone gaze at him. However, he was willing to play along. He propped himself leaning back, looking straight at Kallen's massive tool, and a little too loudly himself, said, "Hmmh, put some ketchup on it, and I might just eat it!"

Their audience laughed louder than ever. Trav glanced over quickly at them, and saw that the two were groping each other's baskets. Must be 3; like him and Kallen, he wondered, amazed. So that was the kind of party this was going to be. He smiled knowingly, sweetly, and looked up at Kallen.

Kallen met his gaze, and smiled back, nodding up and down. Slowly he put down the plate on the table, and then he quickly lifted off the apron, from over his neck and tossed it to the ground. He stood still then before Trav, his hands on his hips.

Trav took his man in, from head to foot. Tall, slim, blonde and beautiful, everywhere! Even around his dick and dangling balls.

"Forget the ketchup," Trav managed to squeak out huskily, as he leaned forward. He grasped Kallen's shaft with one hand. With the other he hefted the man's testicles, and played them gently one against the other. He opened his jaw as wide as he possibly could, and took Kallen's hooded glans into his mouth, his tongue going directly to the piss slit, to lick off the pre-cum. It was tantalizingly, but oh so faintly sweet, fluid, and smooth.

He couldn't believe this! Something he had dreamed about for so long! All the reading he had done on the net. All the longing! And now he had a man's dick in his mouth! Kallen's dick!

He felt his own little cock standing up now, tight inside his pants. He wanted to wriggle out of them! Otherwise he was just going to die, right here, feeling that excruciating 3; pain? Whatever it was. Oh god, his balls felt like someone were gripping them, squeezing them!

He breathed in through his nostrils, smelling Kallen's dick! Smelling Kallen's man scent! He tested the strength of his fingers around the man's steel-hard shaft. It was just like his own, when he was hard. So soft, yet indeed so hard inside! It seemed that no power in the universe could bend such a dick! And it was hot to his touch! He felt the blood within it, beating, pulsing. He felt that tube running down the bottom side of Kallen's dick – the tube that would carry his sperm. Trav wanted that sperm!

He knew what to do. He started slipping the tip of his tongue inside the edge of Kallen's prepuce, trying to force it back, so that he could start tonguing the man's glans directly. He wanted to suck it all in, and let the man fuck his mouth, and spill his seed there. He wanted to drink it all in 3; just like Serg had said!!

He stabbed his tongue in again, making it firm and hard. Kallen yelled out, and jerked back suddenly. "Oh T-Trav!" he blurted out, then tried desperately to breathe in, haltingly.

Trav felt the man's hands on either side of his head, pushing him back. "No! Let me suck you 3;"

"Wait a bit, sweetie. I don't want 3; to cum too quickly. I need to see you too, Trav. I want your dick too! I promise you can take all of me. Just let me see you, first."

"Ok." Trav acceded quickly, and stood up. He started stripping off his clothes wildly, while Kallen laughed and tried to help where he could.

A high voice called out, from across the patio, "You're just greedy! You just want to suck him first, Kall!"

"Yeah, look who's talking!" Kallen responded sarcastically, prodding Trav to look over at their two party companions.

The boy – obviously the one named Red, with that mop of red hair – was down on his knees now, between the Marcin's legs. The man's cock was pulled out from his pants, and standing upright just like Kallen's. It was glistening too, wet from Red's mouth. Red just laughed and turned back to his lover's dick.

The sight just fired Trav even more. He flung his clothes here and there wildly, not caring where they fell. He watched as Red's head bobbed up and down on Marcin's pole, and knew that was exactly what he wanted to do with Kallen. Seeing those two together aroused him even more. It thrilled him, to think that Kallen wanted him, a little boy. Kallen didn't want that other boy. He didn't want Red. He didn't want anyone else. Trav felt so beautiful, so desirable. No man had ever wanted him before, but now Kallen wanted to see him naked!

Suddenly it dawned on him – he was moving about freely! When he told his hand to stretch down the elastic of his undies, it did it! When he told his foot to lift up, it lifted! He was moving his own body! It was all so real! He just felt overwhelmed with the joy of it all, and started hopping around like a little rabbit.

"Look Kallen! I'm jumping!"

"That you are, Little Traveler. You can do anything here that you want."

Trav looked down, feeling his little dick flapping against his tummy. For a moment he was shocked – his dick was 3; intact! His foreskin still intact. That ugly red scar was 3; gone! His heart skipped a beat, remembering for an instant the cruel shock after the operation, when he had awakened to find himself circumcised. Against his will. The pain where he had been cut was nothing to the anguish he had felt in his spirit. He had know all about what a foreskin meant to a boy, or a man. And now, to have it back!! Truly, as Kallen had said, anything was possible inside a noodlenode. His dick even looked a little longer, and his balls felt heavier, and hung a little lower. Oh well, all the better!

"Now, Kall?" Trav pleaded, turning back to his man, and reaching out to grasp his eight inch [20 cm] erection.

"Ok, Little Trav," Kallen said, then looked around. More guests were arriving. He turned back to Trav, and looked down at him with such longing in his eyes. His face was suddenly pinched with lust. He gulped, then said, "let's 3; let's go to our bedroom, ok? For some reason, suddenly, I want you all to myself."

Trav saw the yearning in Kallen's eyes, in the man's labored breathing, in the tautness of his outstretched hand. This must have been what Serg felt like, when the men called him to their tent!

He placed his little hand in Kallen's, and they started running together towards the house.

"Well, look at that!" Marcin called out to the other guests. "You're not going to share your boy with us, huh, Kall?"

"Not this boy!" Kallen yelled back, laughing. "Not MY boy!"

Trav held on for dear life, as they reached the porch, and Kallen took the steps two at a time. He lifted Trav bodily, his hands on the boy's waist, and pulled him to him. Trav wrapped himself around the man, smashing his little cocklet into Kallen's stomach.

Kallen rushed through the hallways and rooms, towards their bedroom. Trav didn't even bother to look about. His eyes were glued to the visage of his man, thrilling in the maddened look in Kallen's eyes. The man wanted him so much!

Kallen laid him down on their bed, and said, "let me do you first, ok?"

"Alright," Trav acquiesced, already feeling Kallen's hands on his thighs. The warm touch was electrifying as he felt the man prying his legs apart, so that he could crawl between them to suck his little dick into his mouth.

His whole body cried out with just overwhelming joy. Kallen was caressing the soft flesh of his inner thighs, but it felt like he had a grip around his heart!

Never before had he felt so completely alive and complete! Never before had he 3;

Trav suddenly focused his eyes, and looked up, directly above the bed, into the mirror affixed there, on the ceiling. Just as suddenly, his blood ran cold, and he felt his body start to shiver with dread, fear, dismay 3; and awareness.

The mirror didn't lie. He saw a boy there, laying on his back, on the bed, as naked as the man who knelt between the boy's thighs, lowering his head to suck the boy's dick in. The man was Kallen. The boy was 3; well, he wasn't Trevor Seamon. The boy he saw in the mirror had long blonde hair, that spilled about his beautiful head in splendid disarray. No buck-teeth, no flopping ears 3;

Trav had used noodlenodes many times before The Crash, playing games. Now he steeled himself to place the simulation into stasis, and started searching the file system deliberately. Just work backwards, from 'Trav. Patio Party' to the 'noodlenode' folder. And there it was. A crosslink to Kallen's own 'memories. noodlenode. Robbie. Patio Party.'

So. That was Robbie staring at him from the mirror. This was all about Robbie. Robbie's party. Robbie's dick. Robbie's 3; man.

'Oh Kallen,' Trav thought. 'For a while, I thought you really wanted me. I'm so 3; sorry 3; it 3;'

Trav coldly willed the node to turn off, not wanting to even finish his thought. There was no escaping it, however. How stupid of him to have ever thought otherwise!

Kallen could swear that at one point during the simulation, he saw Trav's hand twitch, as if he consciously raised it, but for the rest of the time he could only sit there and monitor the nodestatus.

He knew one thing. Trav was enjoying it! His little dick remained rock hard, and his lips were formed into a perpetual smile of pure contentment.

Then suddenly he saw the boy's penis soften rapidly. He wondered. Did that mean that Trav had cum in his fantasy? Kallen was feeling pretty good about that, when he noticed that Trav's smile was gone too. Replaced by a rather dead-pan expression, lips compressed, in a straight line – not quite a frown, but certainly no evidence of the pleasure the boy was experiencing before.

He glanced at the nodestatus, and clicked to the biostate. Trav's heartrate was a bit elevated, but his oxygen transfer was pretty much normal. He started to sit back, and just wait it out, but at that instant he saw the tell-tale quivering of Trav's jaw. The boy was crying!

Quickly Kallen reached out and started slipping the node off Trav's head. Sure enough, his cheeks were stained with little trails – cold, wet streaks from his tears.

"Trav," Kallen called to him, as he slipped the node completely off the boy's head, and started brushing his hair back into place gently. "Trav, what's 3; what's the matter, honey?"

"Oh, nothing's the matter, really," Trav answered softly, opening his eyes, his tone nasal with the tears. "I just 3; got a little sad, I guess."

"Well 3; why, Trav? It was supposed to be kind of a fun party. Did something go wrong? I know it was an untested routine, but all my others have gone very well, and 3;"

"No. No, there wasn't anything wrong," Trav said, his voice still soft with some kind of sadness or remorse, or something. Kallen was perplexed, and worried.

"Dang, I'm so sorry if 3; ah 3; anything in it, wasn't right for you, Trav 3; I just don't know what to say, Little Guy. I wanted it to be so good for you." Kallen scrunched his lips together in dismay, and shook his head in regret.

Trav looked at him through his film of tears. He shook his head weakly from side to side too. "No Kall, I don't think it was your fault at all. It's just 3;" He closed his eyes for a moment, and turned his head back up straight.

Kallen pulled the cover up over the boy's body, sensing that he needed some warmth. He dabbed the tears out of Trav's eyes, and dried his cheeks, with a tissue. He was about to turn down the lights, and let the boy sleep a little, when Trav spoke again.

"I met Robbie there."

"What?' Kallen was shocked, but tried to keep his tone down. "How could you 3;"

"I don't' know," Trav answered wearily, softly, his hoarse voice barely above a whisper. "I guess something did go wrong in the node. I don't blame you, Kall. It's just that 3; well, I looked in the mirror, one time, and I saw 3; your boy. Not me."

Kallen drew in a deep breath through his nostrils, his jaw clenched tightly, grimly. Of all the things he had considered, to let something obvious like that slip by. He hadn't even thought about Trav looking in a mirror at himself. If he had, he would have at least uploaded some nodepoints from Trav's own body.

"I'm sorry, Trav. Really, really sorry. It's not what I meant 3;"

"Hmmh," Trav let out a weak little chuckle, and one corner of his lips pulled up. "Ironic. And I thought I had foreskin. It was Robbie's, wasn't it. After all, I'm cut. Those 3; people 3; cut me 3;"

He couldn't hold it back any longer. His lips started trembling again, and the tears came just as quickly, streaming down his cheeks. Trav closed his eyes, and again started moving his head from side to side – the only way he could express his grief. This boy couldn't stamp his feet, or clench his fist – he hardly had the strength to shout out his anger and grief.

Kallen just sat there for a moment, feeling so helpless, not knowing what to do. Obviously the simulation had triggered some bad memories, instead of giving the boy a glimpse at what was possible, in his future.

The man clenched his own fists, and wrung his hands together, watching his little companion cry. Finally, he stood, and grabbed up the boy and the thin blanket all in one swoop, and just held him close, cradling him like a baby. He swayed from side to side, and muttered cooing noises. Then he sat down, still cradling Trav, and just let the boy cry there in his arms.

He felt like he had to do something. Say something.

"Look Trav, I'll uh 3; I'll 3; I'll fix the programming. Dangit, I just blew it. I'll make it better. I know just how to 3;"

"You can't fix everything, Kall," Trav suddenly muttered, his words muffled against Kallen's shoulder.

"Well, I can try. And instead of using my 3; memories, we can use yours. You know, take the time to 3;"

"I know you mean well, Kall, but there are some things neither one of us can ever change. Are you going to put my dick back together? You can make me dream, you can give me all kinds of fantasies, but nothing anyone can ever do would put back what they took from me. How many boys, or how many men, you know who are cut, Kall?!"

"Well 3;," Kallen didn't want to answer it, but he knew he had to. Trav wanted some serious answers now. "I don't know of any, besides you, Trav, but so what? They used to do that all the time in the old days, and 3;."

"Yeah, but it's ugly and it hurts, and 3; it just gets back to what I said before, Kall, no man is ever going to love a boy like me. No man's ever going to want to have sex with a freak! Admit it! You don't, do you?"

"That's not what I meant, Trav, when I said I didn't know if I could have sex again. It has nothing at all to do with you. It's all about me."

"Look," Trav interrupted defiantly. Kallen didn't think he was even listening to his protests now. The boy was letting it all out. "You touch my dick all the time. I even get hard when you do it, but it's nothing to you. A boy's dick is supposed to be 3;" Trav stopped suddenly, almost shouting. When he resumed, he was almost whispering again. "Let's just forget it, Kall."

"No!" Kallen answered, fiercely. He felt himself wanting to suddenly take up the boy's protest. "We can't just leave it alone, Trav! Don't you see? I'm not going to let you doubt yourself, just because I happen to have some emotional hangups myself! I'm going to 3; I'm going to 3;"

Kallen paused too, just as Trav had. He had come up against a wall, just as the little boy in his arms had. Facing reality, that's what it was all about.

The reality was that he once had a lover. He once had a boy. He once gave himself completely to that boy. That boy was no longer here. He was but a memory. A cherished, honored, beloved memory. Yet, but a memory. That's what noodlenodes were good for – reliving memories.

The reality was that he now had another boy. This boy still lived. Still breathed. He was a boy with memories still to be made. Not noodlenode fantasies. Real, live memories!

The reality was that he could no longer ask Robbie's permission for this. The reality was that he had to give himself completely to this boy, right now, if THIS boy was going to make all the memories he deserved.

And finally, the reality was that loving Trav was a wholly good thing. Love, boylove, encompassed all sorts of giving. Nothing held back, if it served the needs of the boy! That was the reality that THIS MAN must face, head on, for THIS BOY. Part of that good, and Kallen understood this now, like never before, was that in serving his boy, a boylover served himself. In helping to heal the wounds of his boy, the man healed himself.

Into the silence, deep within the great spacecraft, isolated from all the rest of the universe by trillions of miles of emptiness, Kallen whispered about their reality, to the little boy who lay in his arms.

"Little Traveler. Trevor. I 3; met someone. One day, I 3; don't know what 3; Fate, or Providence, or mere happenstance, caused it 3; but I met someone special 3; who gave me purpose, who gave my life meaning 3; after I had lost all purpose and meaning.

"I didn't recognize it at first, I even fought against it for a while – well, you know how people can be – we resist change, when we've become a little comfortable with the way things are.

"My special someone wouldn't let me ignore him, though. Not for long. You see, he had kind of lost all purpose and meaning too, and he needed me, just as I needed him.

"Well, gradually we got to know each other, and out of that need, and that renewed purpose and meaning, we started to depend on each other. I know he depends on me, every moment of the day – I talk to him, give him advice 3; hey, I even feed him 3; I've been known to wipe his butt, too.

"Oh man, how I depend on him. I'd rather hear his scratchy little voice, than hear the music of the heavenly spheres. I'd rather see his little elfish smile, I'd rather feel his hand in mine, I'd rather just BE in his presence, than to have any other riches imaginable. When I'm in his presence, I feel complete. There came a time, soon after I met him, when every moment I spent away from him, was like missing a part of myself.

"Yeah, I've grown to love him. IN EVERY WAY. I want to give myself to him. IN EVERY WAY.

"Let me show you, Trav. Let me show you who I'm talking about. Will you let me show you?"

All the time Kallen had been speaking, Trav lay with his head down, his chin upon his chest, his mouth held closed, his eyes staring at 3; his blanketed knees, his feet 3; perhaps nothing. Kallen knew the boy felt drained and defeated, but hoped his words would gain him another chance. All he wanted now, was one more chance. If this too failed, then he'd beg for another, and another. "Will you, Trav? Please just let me 3;"

"Yes," Trav conceded, breaking in softly, his head still lowered, but he raised his brow and looked up into Kallen's eyes, looking so hurt, so weary, yet once again daring to hope. Kallen drew immediate strength from that. The boy would never give up, no matter how many times fate had knocked him down!

"I WILL show you," Kallen affirmed, solemnly, then he stood again, lifting the boy's feather-light body easily, still cradled in his arms. He laid Trav back down upon the bed so very gently, still wrapped in the blankets, his bottom first, then slowly stretching out his legs, then letting his shoulders down upon the mattress. Finally he let his hand slip from beneath Trav's head, laying it upon his soft pillow. Trav lay there looking up at him questioningly, his brow furrowed. He was wrapped in the blankets like a baby in swaddling clothes.

Looking directly into Trav's eyes, Kallen intoned, "Tommie. Dusk. No music. Then leave us."

It was so much more than a mere command to the computer. Trav understood. His eyes grew suddenly wider, and he drew in his breath deeply.

Tommie dimmed the cabin lights slowly, as if night were falling, setting a mood that Kallen fell into naturally. It was totally quiet as he walked slowly around the bed, keeping his eyes on Trav's, smoothing the sheets, removing the noodlenode. He felt like he was falling into a trance, hypnotized by the connection between their unfaltering gaze. They could still see each other clearly, as twilight gave way to dusk. Colors were muted, melting to softer shades in the transient light of a late evening.

Kallen returned to stand just at Trav's shoulder, beside the bed. He heard the little boy breathing, as his fingers sought the clasp holding his pants closed. Trav could hear the faint brush of metal upon metal, as the man slowly unzipped his pants. He looked down at Kallen's mid-section, as the pants slipped to the floor. The man's flaccid dick dangled, so long and thick, to the little boys eyes. Trav could see Kallen's swaying balls, looking so powerful and huge.

Kallen removed his shirt next and tossed it away, and slipped his shoes off without bending to them, then sidled up the bed, closer to the position of Trav's head. "This is 3; what I want to show you, Trav," he said quietly, as he cupped his balls in his left hand, and brought his right to his soft penis, and hefted it too. "This is what being near you does to me."

With languid motions of his fingers, he fondled his heavy balls, pushing them out, so that Trav could see them clearly, lifting first one, then the other, so the boy could see their contours – egg-sized ovals, potent with his man-seed. With his other hand he pulled on his penis, elongating it, showing it off as it became erect quickly, lengthening, thickening, becoming rigid, till it jutted out straight out from his body. He let go of it, and released his balls to sway beneath his organ, then stepped even closer to the bed, so that his thighs brushed up against the sheets. His eight inch [20 cm] erection rose over the mattress, over the boy's outstretched form. "You make me a man again, Trav," he spoke huskily, his arousal starting to take control of his being, feeling the truth of what he was demonstrating to Trav. This was for the both of them. A healing of both their spirits. He realized that he wanted this boy very much. He needed this boy.

Still in slow motion, he stepped down the side of the bed again, shifting sideways, keeping his jutting penis in Trav's view, then walked forward around the foot of the bed to the other side. Trav watched all the way, following the man's bobbing dick, examining his naked form, so tall and straight.

When he reached the opposite side, Kallen placed both hands on the bed, his fingertips just touching it. "May I 3; join you?" he asked, his head lowered but his eyes still seeking Trav's, as if supplicating before the boy.

"Ye 3;," Trav tried to answer, but seemed suddenly to have lost his voice. He too lowered his head a bit, and looked up, from lowered brow, towards the pilot. He nodded 'yes' almost imperceptibly.

Kallen crawled up onto the wide bed on his hands and knees, his dick now swaying down and forward, ramming forward as he drew closer. It stabbed upward mightily into the air, when he sat back on his heels, his left knee just touching Trav's blanketed arm. The tip was wet with the clear, silken ooze of his pre-cum.

He leaned forward a bit, and placed one hand on Trav's thigh, as if seeking their first connection, letting Trav share in the act, as he then very deliberately fingered just the head of his penis with his other hand, slowly swirling the pre-cum around the tip of his glans, then just as slowly widening the circle, slipping his foreskin back, and back.. His glans was fiery pink – almost red – engorged, glistening. Another drop of seminal fluid gathered at the tip, presaging the release which he knew he would no longer deny himself, with this boy.

His foreskin lodged behind the coronal rim of his spear-like glans. His dick head was sleek, yet full, sweeping back from the frenulum like a helmet. Now he looked just like the boy would, when he pulled down the covers. He wanted to look like Trav. He wanted the boy to see that they were essentially the same – all male, gloriously male, bared and visibly longing each other!

"I want to 3; see you, Trav," the man uttered so softly that it was almost a whisper, as he let his penis go, and extended both hands towards the opening of the blanket, below Trav's chin. There he paused, frozen in entreaty, on his knees before the boy. It was a request that he now felt to the core of his being. He had seen and touched Trav's naked body countless times, but now, it was if he had never before been granted that gift. "May I?" he begged, his breath coming faster, in anticipation.

"Y-yes," came the boy's meek reply, not much more than a whisper as well.

Again, they gazed into each other's eyes, exchanging acknowledgment that they both desired the other. Kallen's features suddenly softened, as he felt the boy's own desire. It was a desire that he felt so blessed to be able to meet. This boy would no longer ever have to ask 'Why not me!"

Kallen parted the folds of the cocoon encasing Trav's shoulders, slowly revealing the boy's delicate form. Trav was waif-like, every bone clearly outlined under his smooth, translucent olive skin. The fine tracery of bluish veins swept in an alluring web beneath the boys skin, giving the impressing that to touch him, would almost be to touch his very heart and soul. Kallen leaned forward even more, wide-eyed now with wonder. He had caressed and washed Trav's shoulders and chest so many times – now he realized that his love for the boy, his worship for this boy, had been growing day after day, for he knew each line of the boy's form by memory. Should he mold his fingers to the curve of Trav's narrow shoulders first? Or let then wash across his fragile ribs, hoping to feel his heartbeat beneath?

He closed his eyes for a second, and lowered his hands to touch the boy. For that moment, his whole being centered on the heat of Trav's flesh – he knew Trav would feel his own life force as well – they would share it together.

The silence was complete. He thought that for a moment both of them had stopped breathing. Then he opened his eyes again, to follow his fingers as they glided lovingly, just grazing Trav's tiny nipples, dipping into his tender armpits, then out along the sleek lines of his arms.

He felt, rather than heard, the soft heave of Trav's breath, and looked up. "You're 3; crying, sweetheart," he muttered softly, wondering why. "What's the matter?" He said, as he let one hand drift tenderly up along Trav's cheek, then to his brow, to brush stray curls into place.

"You do want me to 3; go farther, don't you sweet? You know I'd never do anything you didn't want."

"It's 3; it's not that 3; I do want you to go on, Kall," Trav answered, "It's just 3;"

Kallen followed the boy's gaze, as he looked down his body, looking almost ashamed, or worried.

"What is it, Little Traveler? I'd 3; I'd never hurt you, you know. I just want to 3; show you 3;"

Trav's voice rasped again, and Kallen could hear the fear in it. "It's just that, a while ago, when you 3; got so hard, I 3; I got hard too, but now, when you touched me, I 3; Kallen! I always wanted a man to love me, but now I don't know what to do, and 3; I was hard before, but 3;"

"It's alright, honey!" Kallen immediately realized what the boy was worried about. "My first time, I got scared too, Trav. And I got soft, just at the wrong time. But it was ok. Trust me, little one."

"I want to, Kall. I do, but 3; and it's so ugly now, since they 3;"

"Shhhhhhh," Kallen put his index finger to Trav's lips. He gave just the slightest chuckle possible, and looked so tenderly into Trav's eyes. "I think mine's hard enough for both of us right now, sweet. But don't worry, I know just what to do."

"You do? But 3; you won't like it, Kall, it's so 3;"

"Shhhhh, now. Just let me show you, Trav. Let me show you."

Kallen unconsciously licked his lips, as he slowly parted the blankets even more, pulling the edges apart, revealing the little whorled hole of Trav's belly button, the jut of his pelvis, then the slope of the boy's lower belly.

In anticipation, he scooted a bit farther down the bed, and reversed his body angle. He wanted to be able to see Trav's face, to look up along the boy's slim body, to share in the eagerness and the wonder that he felt building within him. He laid down beside the boy, propped on his own forearm, his head over the boy's thighs. His cheek touched the fabric of the blanket encasing the columns of Trav's legs, just inches below that magical conjunction, where a man could see and touch and taste and smell his boy. Kallen could smell Trav's private scent even now, through the think blanket. There was no air movement in the room, to disperse the heat rising from the boy's flesh. He smelled clean, yet musky – his body, like every boy's body, a furnace of energy and potential, always in heat, emanating that residue, that essence of boy, that was like an aphrodisiac to any man.

"I can almost see it, Trav," he said, amazed at himself, that he felt such excitement and tension. He looked up from the little triangle of Trav's pubis, still hidden, but clearly outlined beneath the fabric, to seek Trav's eyes momentarily, and smiled. "I 3;," suddenly he had to catch his breath. "I've seen it so many times before, Trav, but now I feel like I'm seeing it for the first time. Like 3; maybe 3; it's the first time you wanted me to see it."

"I've wanted you to see it for a long time, Kall. I mean 3; to want it 3; but I don't know 3; when they cut it 3; it 3;"

Kallen swiveled his hips, lifting his own turgid penis off the sheets. "Yours will look just like mine, sweetie. We're the same," he said, as he flexed his legs out straight, making his long, hard dick stick out even more, letting the boy see everything, from the bared glans, down the long veined stalk, to his balls, hanging down across his inner thigh.

He returned his attention to the hidden treasures just before him, and started peeling the blanket apart more.

"But 3;"

"You'll see. I'll show you, we're the same."

Trav's breathed in haltingly, deeply. He looked down at his own midsection too, now, but there was no way he could fail to see the man's surging dick just beside him. His eyes flitted from the one, revealed completely, to the other, still hidden.

The boy's tender little tool was indeed soft. Not slumbering, just waiting, unsure. It lay curved upon the satiny smooth, hairless flesh of his pubic mound. As Kallen pulled down the edge of the blanket, he saw first that curve, the thick, wormlike tube, rising from it's base, curving impossibly around and down, to still hide it's head beneath the covers. The circumcision scar was quiescent – not the raw red that it so often was, but its crinkled and swelling folds were the same cream-brown color as the rest of Trav's perfect flesh.

He pulled the covers down more, and involuntarily drew in a breath of astonishment. It was so utterly beautiful!! The bluish-tinted head of Trav's little cocklet was just so gorgeous, contrasting with the pale cream of the rest of the short tube. Tiny blue veins were visible just beneath the skin of the inch and a half [4 cm] long dick. Around the base of the little cock, the folds of Trav's scrotum formed a little trough, then gathered below, hanging down, encasing the two little marble-sized, elongated testicles. The tracery of veins and capillaries were both red and blue within that precious little pouch.

For a moment, Kallen wondered how this sight could be so utterly, stunningly, arousing and beautiful. What was it about such a small tube of flesh and some folds of skin, that could make him shiver now? He knew it was primal. MEN WERE MADE TO LOVE BOYS! Some lucky few realized it, reveled in it. The rest might repress it. But every man alive was drawn to dick – boy dick! It was genetic. The phallus was THE symbol of mankind. The species couldn't survive without women either, but it was the penis and the testicles that poured out the life-giving seed! In a boy, every bit of that was combined! The phallic power, the effeminate lines of a girl. Life, itself!

He soaked in the beauty of Trav's dick and balls – it was so intense that it was almost painful, this sudden awareness that the flesh he had cleaned and handled so often, was just so incredibly beautiful and exciting.

Why now? Why only now did Trav's little dick fill him with such wonder?

Soft like this, the circumcision scar tissue was all scrunched up beneath the glans, just a shade darker then the skin along the shaft below it. Here and there within the folds, tender and reddish, infinitely thin-looking tissue, still raw from the surgery, made the remnant of his foreskin look so delicate. Kallen wondered now that he had ever been bold enough to touch it – how uncaring he had been before! When he touched it tonight, he would show such loving care.

And there was the answer. He knew it. He now saw the beauty that had always been inherent in Trav's little penis, precisely because he now intended to touch it with such love, precisely for the purpose of showing Trav his care!

The organ lay there unmoving. The blood that so often had pumped within it when he washed Trav, or when he changed his diaper, was now withdrawn. Kallen stared at it, his eyes just inches away, wondering at it's latent potency. Trav was so sensitive that he got hardons more often than not. Now that potency was held in check by doubt.

Kallen looked up again, past the curve of Trav's lower tummy, past the little vale of his belly-button, across the narrow confines of his rising and lowering chest, past the lips that parted in worry, past those nostrils that flared infinitesimally with each rise of his chest 3; to his eyes. He met Trav's gaze again. He could see the doubt in them, even fear.

He smiled, just letting the very corners of his lips upturn, to affirm what he knew Trav needed to hear. "It's so precious, Trav," he nearly whispered. "I'm 3; literally in awe. I don't think 3; I've ever seen anything more beautiful."

Trav's eyelids fluttered, and he closed his mouth, at the same time as he drew in a deep breath. He held it, looking back at Kallen wide-eyed again, then let it out slowly. Kallen could see that the boy was still struggling with the idea – he wanted to believe, but he still doubted.

"I want to touch it, Trav. Can I?" Even as he said it, he saw the little penis start to twitch. Trav might still be doubting, but he was listening. He had to hear to truth in the man's words. It started to stretch out and straighten simultaneously, the glans sliding at first imperceptibly, then faster and faster across the silk-smooth pad of Trav's pubis, then it started lifting, pulsing!

"Yes," Trav whispered immediately, and nodded his head once, ever so slightly.

"My god! Look at it!" Kallen muttered, his eyes now again transfixed on Trav's genitals. "Your scar, Trav! Look at it! It's 3; it's simply 3; look at the way the folds are stretching out! It's a marvel, and SO beautiful!" And Kallen meant every word. He had rarely seen a circumcised dick, and in all the time he had been with Trav he had never before truly allowed himself to really look at this one. For the briefest moment, the image of Robbie's dick flashed into his mind. So utterly beautiful too, and intact. Was it indeed more perfect, for that reason? Yes, no doubt. Did it offer him a special pleasure that Trav could never know again? Yes. But was Trav less male, less a boy, than Robbie? No! And the true beauty was that Kallen knew he could say that truthfully now, without guilt, that he could love both boys with all his heart, could see and appreciate the beauty in both of them equally, without taking away from either of them.

"I haven't even touched it yet, Trav, and it's growing!"

Kallen leaned in and planted his first kiss right at the base of the boy's little hardening shaft, right on the very top of his scrotum, above the twin dangling balls. He felt Trav gasp, but didn't look up. He just reared back again, over Trav's thighs, and boldly brought his free hand over to fist the boy's erection, wrapping it completely within his fingers, but making his touch ever so light. The whole length of the boy's erect two inches [5 cm] was within his grasp – he made sure Trav could feel it, from the tip of the glans all the way to down to his balls, as he once, twice, then three times stroked the boy's tumescent flesh. Then just as quickly, he let the straining shaft go, releasing it with one last swipe of his thumb right at the underside of the glans.

Trav cried out at the sudden intensity of the pleasure he felt! His chest rose mightily, then crashed down. Kallen knew that if the boy could have moved them, he would have brought his own hands up immediately, reflexively, to cover and protect his little penis.

"Now look at it!" Kallen called out excitedly, staring intently at the little shaft. "Your scar is flaming red now, Trav! I just touched it, ever so lightly, and now look at it! It must be incredibly sensitive!"

"It 3; i-it is!" Trav tried to answer and catch his breath at the same time. "Wh 3; what did you 3; do, Kall?!" It almost sounded like the boy was going to cry.

"Did it hurt, sweet?" Kallen forced his eyes away from the boy's dick, to glance again into his eyes.

"No! It felt 3; incredible!"

"Can I touch it again?"

"Yes!"

"Alright," Kallen said, as he repositioned himself slightly, moving his body closer in, letting his own rigid dick come in contact with Trav's pillow. He had to steel himself to keep from starting to hump against it.

"Tell me if it ever hurts. OK?"

"Yes. I will." Trav managed to say, his breath still coming haltingly.

"Oh god, look at your dickhead too, Trav. It was kind of bluish before, but now it's more 3; reddish, kind of purplish?"

"It feels so tight, Kall."

Kallen brought his hand up again, but this time he ever so lightly took hold of Trav's shaft with his thumb on the underside and his middle finger on the top of the shaft, just below the glans. He levered it downwards, till it was pointing more at his than at Trav's face." You have the tiniest little pee slit, Trav. It looks so delicate – couldn't be more than an eighth of an inch [3 mm] long."

He let the pad of his index finger just brush across Trav's little slit.

"Mmmmm," Trav moaned.

"Your dick couldn't be more than a 3; it has to be not much more than a half-inch [1½ cm] thick, Trav. Well, maybe ¾ of an inch [2 cm] – not much bigger than when you're soft. But look at the length of it! You grew an inch, at least!"

"It's 3; it's kind of small, isn't it," Trav said deprecatingly.

"Just perfect, if you ask me," Kallen answered.

"Right here, Trav – look, right here at the base of your dickhead," the pilot lowered the shaft down almost onto Trav's pubis. "See where my thumb is, see that little ridge of your scar? That's where your foreskin was attached right to the base of your glans – your dickhead. That's a really sensitive place, on any boy's dick. I know, because I used to rub myself there with just the smooth surface of my thumbnail – it would take me an hour, but I could cum just with that, on that one spot."

"Are you 3; are you going to do that to me," Trav asked.

"Not this time, honey. We have plenty of time if you want to try that. Right now I just want to jack you off, ok? I want to be able to feel my fingers on your dick, and I want to feel it when you cum."

"Oh, ok," Trav answered. He didn't sound at all disappointed.

Kallen started lightly stroking then, in earnest. First he just let his thumb and one finger glide up and down the boy's pole, making sure to graze the edge of his glans. He glanced up every few seconds to see how Trav was reacting, loving the way the boy was concentrating, staring at his own penis, drawing short breaths in through his open mouth now, as if he couldn't get enough oxygen otherwise.

"Your circumcision scar is soft, Trav. I never felt anything so soft, even your bottom!" He shifted the pads of his thumb and finger around on the shaft as much as he could, letting the boy feel the soft glide along the sides of his dick for a while, again brushing the flared, coronal edge of his dickhead. The boys glans was growing darker and redder by the second. With every touch of his thumb and finger along it's rim, it would become white and bloodless for just an instant, then the blood would rush back in.

Trav started to moan again, and every once in a while he would let out a kind of anguished yelp.

"Are you sure it's ok, sweet?" Kallen asked, wondering if this were too early after Trav was cut, to be masturbating him like this.

"Yes! Keep 3; keep doing 3; it 3; please!" Trav answered, again sounding as if he was feeling as much pain as pleasure, his voice rising in pitch, and rasping even more than normally.

"But you sound like it's hurting, honey," Kallen responded, still concerned.

"You just 3; don't know, Kall 3; we used to 3; jerk off, me and Serg, but 3; ooohhhh God!" he ended with another cry, and jerked his head back into the pillow. "I've 3; wanted to do it again, Kall, but 3; ever since 3; I can't even touch it!"

Kallen saw that the boy was starting to cry, and for the first time it dawned on him – what boy didn't spend half his waking moments with his hand on his own dick! Kallen could remember when he was a boy, and wondering at that fact, himself, that his hands always seemed to wander there, to finger and fondle his own penis, even when it wasn't hard. Now here was a boy who couldn't even move his arms, couldn't do the simplest things for himself 3; couldn't do even the most natural and personal things, that all other boys could do without conscious effort.

Jacking Trav off was more than a sexual act. It was like letting him reclaim THE most vital part of himself!

Kallen slipped his thumb and finger back around, then added one, then two more fingers, and tightened his grip. No longer did he merely glide his finger tips along Trav's shaft. He pressed into it, forcing the sensitive but elastic skin to glide with his fingers – the soft outer skin rising and falling along the hard inner column of his dick. Nerve endings that were merely tantalized before, were now screaming out with his every stroke. Trav's moans rose right along with Kallen's increased pressure.

And now the tempo! He started pumping up and down a bit faster, and faster, till the edge of his third finger was pressing hard into the boy's pubis with each downstroke. The fleshy, helmet-like dickhead was stretched down, opening the boy's piss slit wide over the rock hard, unyielding hardness within. The boy's balls were drawn up, then fell back again, flailing about wildly inside their pouch with each stroke.

The sight was dumb-foundingly, gloriously beautiful! His hand was pounding, pulling, stretching the boy's tender flesh – the feel of Trav's hardness was exhilarating! The sound of his labored breathing, his cries of pure pleasure, his sobs of joy, made Kallen's own blood boil within him. He didn't even know when he started it. He didn't even realize he was doing it. But as he continued to pump up and down on Trav's dick, he started humping against the boy's pillow. Faster and faster went his hand, faster and faster his own hips moved, forcing his penis deeper into the fabric of the pillow. Trav was already thrashing his head about, exerting a Herculean effort, keeping pace with the pounding at his midsection – and now Kallen was bashing it from side to side with each smash of his dick into the pillow. Trav felt it. He tried to push back against the pressure purposely, trying to meet each of Kallen's strokes with resistance, wanting Kallen to feel that even though he couldn't move his own hands, he was taking part in this consciously.

Both man and boy were like maddened robotons, relentlessly inflicting the same, repeated, endless motions. Kallen joined his own guttural moans with Trav's, and their voices worked with each other in a kind of shattering chorus. Neither ever lost sight of their purpose, both knew at every second exactly what their intent was 3; they made love with an abandon that indeed did shatter every barrier that ever had stood between them.

Their explosions came at practically the same time. Suddenly Trav shrieked out, and his midsection heaved involuntarily, instinctively, slamming into Kallen's fist. Kallen felt it, and had enough control of his faculties to immediately stop his pumping action. He grasped the boy's dick tightly, squeezing, making his glans bulge up. Trav screamed out again and again, till Kallen let go and the boy's head collapsed back into the pillow. He breathed in and out loudly, momentarily lost to the world, until he finally felt Kallen's own penis pumping and pounding into the pillow again, just beside his head.

Kallen barely missed stride, with Trav's orgasm. He wanted his own. He wanted release, finally! He wanted his release as a part of this act with Trav! Now he laid his head directly down upon Trav's thighs and wrapped his arm across the boy's stomach, and started pounding his dick into the boy's pillow.

"I'm .. cumming 3; too!" He called out just seconds after grasping the boy to hold on for dear life. His dickhead extended down beyond the pillow, over Trav's shoulder, and shot out his cum along the length of the boy's torso. The first glob hit just below Trav's navel, splattering against the man's arm, then another right on his stomach, and another father up on his chest. Kallen's dick jerked again and again, till Trav's chest and shoulder were dripping in the accumulated cum of a week.

He had just enough strength to look up at Trav again. The boy was laying back firmly against the pillow, but his eyes were wide open, staring astonished at the pools of sperm all over his chest. He glanced down at Kallen, looking awed.

Kallen smiled weakly, almost apologetically, then collapsed back onto the bed.

"Sorry 3; about that 3; Little Traveler. I just couldn't 3; help it!'

"Don't be, Kall!" Trav protested. "I never felt so wonderful in my life."

"Oh yeah, me too!" Kallen responded. "You were incredible. But I kind of made a mess on you!"

"I want it 3; there 3; I want it to dry there 3;" Trav said, sounding sleepy all of a sudden. He smiled dreamily, his eyes half-closing.

They both lay still then. Kallen listened through his own recovering breath, as Trav slowly relaxed. He watched as the little boy's penis softened again and lay back down, sliding sideways again, to rest as he had found it earlier. His own manhood grew flaccid too upon his own pubis, a little pool of semen forming at the tip. He wondered if Trav saw it, as well. Wondered if they should talk about what had happened between them. Or perhaps they had already said it best, and like their quiescent dicks, should just let the matter rest

He knew he would have to get up soon. At the very least get Trav's cum-splattered chest cleaned up! Then get some supper and get them settled for the night. Plenty of time to talk, then. Perhaps they should just lay here for a while more. He was about to tell Tommie to lower the lights for a little nap time, when finally Trav spoke.

"Hey Kall," he called out softly.

"Yeah, sweet?"

"If I'm not mistaken, I think 3; uh 3; I think you just anointed me too."

"Yeah, sweetie. I think I just did."

"When can we do it again, Kall?" Trav said out of the blue.

Even though they were on their morning walk, making the rounds, Kallen knew immediately what his little boy was talking about. He felt the stirrings in his groin at the very thought, his dick starting to lengthen and harden down his pants leg.

"Haha, well we just did it an hour ago. You wouldn't even let me get breakfast first!"

"You said boyprick tastes better than any breakfast. Especially mine!"

"Too true, Little Traveler. Hmmh," Kallen looked around speculatively. He reached down to adjust his straining tool. "It might be a little awkward right here in the passageway, on your sleigh."

"Oh come on, there's plenty of room up here. I can see you want it too." Trav urged, slyly nodding down to the man's crotch. He sat like a little prince, resplendent in his robes, cushioned and comfortable within the chair that Kallen had affixed for him to one of the cargo sledges. It hovered just inches off the floor of the passageway. Kallen had yet to setup voice guidance for the makeshift conveyance.

"Yeah but I doubt the gravcompensators would be able to adjust fast enough to keep up with my mouth! That thing wasn't designed for moving cargo, you know. I guess we could settle it on the floor." Kallen grinned, raising his eyebrows naughtily.

Trav looked up at him and returned his grin coyly. "I just like it so much, Kall. You think I'm over-sexed?."

"Yeah, well if you're oversexed, then so am I. I'd spend all my time between your legs if I could figure out how."

"You really like it that much? I mean 3; my dick?"

"Oh yeah!"

"You really think it's pretty? You always say that."

"Gorgeous!"

Instead of the beaming smile that he expected to receive, Kallen was taken aback when Trav suddenly lowered his head, looking down into his lap, where the pilot had crossed the boy's hands when arranging him onboard the sledge. Trav seemed to be considering something. He seemed quite serious all of a sudden.

Kallen just kept walking, guiding the sledge manually beside him, glancing with concern to the side occasionally at his little companion. His erection started to subside just as quickly as it had started.

Finally Trav looked up at him, and said tentatively, "I guess you couldn't say that about the rest of me, huh?"

"Wh – what do you mean?"

"You say my dick is beautiful. I guess 3; you couldn't say the same about 3; uh 3;" Trav looked down at his hands again, and fell silent.

"Oh. That," Kallen said. He pursed his lips, glanced sideways at Trav a couple of times, and thought about how to answer the boy. It was something he had wondered about too. He wasn't about to lie to Trav – no way he could say that the boy was the typical boylover's dreamboat – yet 3; well, there it was. He didn't know why, really, or how – perhaps familiarity? Whatever it was, he knew that he caught himself looking at Trav, thinking, redefining his own sense of beauty.

"I'm going to have to show you something, Trav," he finally said, speaking softly, seriously. "I've been saving it. We're not quite far enough out yet, but I guess it'll have to be now."

"Oh?" Trav said, looking sideways at the man. He seemed a bit sad. Kallen knew the boy had to be disappointed. Even as realistic as he was, Trav had to be hoping that Kallen – of all the people he had ever known – might find him attractive.

"Yep. Just follow me, young man."

They walked on slowly, in silence, with the sledge locked onto the man – wherever he strode or turned to, the sled followed and stuck to his side.

Trav took on that resigned, defeated look that he sometimes wore, when he was feeling like he wasn't good enough. Kallen felt so bad for him. He prayed that what he had in mind would make a difference.

"Where are we going?" the boy finally spoke up, his curiosity getting the better of his deflated ego.

"Well, have you noticed that I never took you to the port side before?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"I've been saving that. We've been getting closer and closer to a special sight that I wanted to show you, just at the best time. Well 3; I'm thinking maybe now would be the best time."

"What is it?"

"Oh, you'll see!"

They walked on a bit more, then Kallen stopped abruptly just before coming to an intersection. He turned to Trav excitedly, and reached out to grasp the covers that had bunched around Trav's shoulders. "Here! Now 3; here, put your blanket over your eyes," he said, a rather smug smirk on his face, as he lifted the covers and draped them around the boy's head. "You have to promise me not to look until I say so!"

"How am I going to breathe in here!" Trav's muffled protest sounded less than anguished. Kallen just chuckled. "You'll be ok. I'm going to have to carry you the rest of the way. We could never get this sled into bubble."

"Like the one we've been to before." Trav suggested, as Kallen reached in to gather him carefully into his arms. He lifted the little boy effortlessly, and held him cradled against his chest and stomach.

"Yep, just that this one is on the other side of the ship."

"What is it you want to show me?"

"You'll see," Kallen said smugly. "Just 3; one 3; moment." He added as he stepped around the corner and directly into the portside observation bubble. He knelt down onto one knee, and gently positioned Trav against the wall, so that he would have just the right vantage. Then he sat down beside the boy, and carefully slipped his arm behind his back, to hold him upright and steady. "There. Feel ok?" he asked as he pulled a wrinkle in the blanket out from beneath Trav's thigh, then smoothed it over his legs.

"Yeah, but what is it!"

"Haha, ok, you can open your eyes now," Kallen said, as he pulled the folds of the blanket apart, and let it fall from Trav's face.

"Whoa! Wha 3; Kall! It's 3;," Trav stumbled for words, his mouth dropping open, dumbfounded. Kallen watched the boy's face. It was painted by a pearlescent glow of many colors – all the colors at once! Trav's eyes were wide, reflecting the many-hued wonder before them, that brightened the otherwise infinite blackness of outer space.

"It's mag 3; nificent," Trav finally completed his thought in a hushed voice, his tone filled with awe. "But 3; what is it?"

It's your first nebula, up close and personal," Kallen answered, feeling quite self-satisfied. "Well, within a few light-years up close and personal, anyway, although it's hard to tell where a nebula actually ends – we're probably in it, actually, and we're just seeing the bright core."

Trav just stared and stared, his mouth still hanging open, speechless. Kallen kept quiet too. The whole bubble was painted in the glow of the nebula's rarefied gasses – so were their bodies, their faces, their eyes – and the whole broad expanse of the ship hull, in all directions. They could look deep into the gargantuan swirls and cavities of hot gas, energized by the stars within.

Kallen had to shake himself from a kind of stupor, the visual grandeur of the scene deadening all sense of time, purpose, reality. He did remember his purpose in bringing Trav to see this. "You think it's beautiful, Trav?" he asked quietly, solemnly, not wanting to cut too harshly into the mood of wonder that had overtaken them both.

"Beautiful. Majestic 3; Kall," Trav answered.

"What do you think gives it that majesty? Is this something greater than the both of us, greater than life even?"

"It's certainly 3; bigger than life."

"Is it? Or do we, you and me, sitting here looking at it, bestow that majesty upon this sight?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"It's the proverbial question, Trav. Can there be anything majestic or beautiful about a bunch of gas molecules scattered throughout space, without someone like you or me to see it?"

"I 3; guess not," the boy answered, tentatively. "I guess it depends on what you call beauty."

"Yeah," Kallen agreed. He let Trav ponder the thought a bit, then asked, "You know what they call this?"

"No. What?"

"This is the Horse Head Nebula."

"Oh!" Trav exclaimed. "I've seen pictures of that! But this 3; doesn't look at all like the pictures I've seen."

"No, it doesn't, from here. But it surely does from Earth!"

"You mean if we were on Earth, this would look like the Horse Head I've seen in the astronomy books."

"Yep. It's all a matter of perspective. Who's looking, and where from."

Kallen felt the boy's head nodding up and down against his upper arm, as he considered it "Makes sense," Trav finally agreed.

"Well, that's why I wanted you to see this now, Trav. It proves something very important for you."

"What's that?"

"Remember you said I could never call you beautiful? Like I said your dick was so beautiful? Remember how you're always saying that you're ugly?"

"Yes," Trav answered, his voice falling to a subdued hush, sounding ashamed. "I know I am."

"Ahh! I don't think you can say that anymore, after seeing this, Trav."

"Why not? It's true," he answered dully.

"No, Trav. Your face, your body – they're just like this nebula. Is your face, is any boy's face, beautiful without someone to say it is? Isn't beauty, as they say, in the eye of the beholder?"

"I 3; "

"I'm looking at you, sweetie. My gaze tells me you're beautiful beyond measure. Beautiful beyond all the stars.'

Trav just sat there, looking askance up into Kallen's eyes, then he turned out towards the starlit nebula. For the longest time, while Kallen studied him, the boy stared, unblinking. The pilot followed his companion's gaze, and wondered – did the boy believe? Did he want to believe!? It was so important that he accept the truth, that he understand how infinitely desirable he was to Kallen, in so many ways!

He tightened his grasp around the boy's waist, and pulled him gently closer. Trav was feather-light – Kallen easily gathered him in, snuggling, feeling the boy's bony shoulder pressing into his side.

They were sitting so close, and Kallen could look right down and see Trav finally let his lids fall, and then the boy just sat still, in silence, his eyes moist, hooded, looking out into the heavens, as if considering something.

The man closed his own eyes momentarily, just letting himself sense the marvel of this moment. He was alone with a boy, in the depths of outer space – where distances were so immense, that for all practical matter, they were the only two beings in existence. Only the very warping of reality would ever bring them back into contact with other living creatures. So for this moment, in this time and place, truly the universe was theirs – his and little Trav's – to define. Beauty was as they would see it. Love was as they would share it. He hoped that Trav sensed all this too. That Trav would allow himself to accept this truth.

"Kallen?" Trav whispered.

The man's heart stopped beating for a second. This moment was done. Now Trav would define the next. What would he say? "Yes, Little Traveler?" he answered, opening his eyes, and looking down to his side again.

Trav met his gaze. A faint, winsome smile drew up the boy's lips just at the corners. His eye-lids were still half-lowered, but he looked up from beneath them.

'He's smiling!' Kallen wanted to shout it out, feeling the rush of blood rampaging through his system, electrifying, energizing him. That smile alone was sufficient answer!

"You really do love me, don't you, Kall?"

"Yes, I really do love you. With all my heart," Kallen said, then bent his head to kiss the boy on the top of his head. Trav's hair felt so soft against his lips, and smelled so sweet and clean.

Trav took a deep, deep breath, and looked up at Kallen with a mixture of wonder, and acceptance, and gratitude in his eyes. A tear formed and fell from the corner of one eye. Then one from the other.

He sniffled then, as more tears began to well up and fall. His lips trembled a bit, but he just pressed them harder together, trying to maintain that little smile.

Kallen reached across his body and dabbed the corner of the blanket in Trav's eyes and cheeks. His heart was beating so fast, that his hand trembled.

"Tell me, Kall," Trav whispered.

"Tell you 3; what 3; dearest?"

"Tell me 3; what you see 3; here 3; that's beautiful 3;"

Kallen could see the reflection of the nebula glistening just on the lenses of Trav's dark, auburn eyes, but he knew instinctively that the boy didn't want to hear of stars and galaxies – not even of all the wonders of the universe – he wanted to hear about one little boy. He didn't want to hear about his spirit right now. He wanted to finally believe that he could represent a very physical, desirable BEAUTY in the eyes of at least one man.

"What I see before me is so very beautiful, Trav. I'm not even sure 3; where to start 3;"

"Did you 3; can you imagine something so smooth and perfect and soft, that to touch it is like being in a dream? Never being quite certain that it really exists? Well, that's like I feel when I touch your cheek."

Kallen turned a bit, pulling his arm out from behind the boy so very carefully. He settled Trav back against the wall, then reached up, so that he could place just the pads of his two middle fingers on Trav's cheek. There he let them glide in an arc just over his cheekbone. Then he lifted them, and reached farther back, and placed them behind Trav's ear, gently lifting it out.

"Your ears stick out more than most boys'. Did you know that? I love to see the whorls within them, the way the edge so gracefully curls in. Your skin there actually shines – a creamy, pinkish color that literally gleams. The tip of your little nose is the same way." He released Trav's ear, and touched just the tip of his index finger to the tip of Trav's nose. Then he let his finger traverse the spine of the little boy's nose, all the way up to his eyebrows. He traced them both ways, with his finger, from the middle.

"How soft your hair is too, and your eyebrows. So deep and rich a brown, an auburn brown more vivid than the colors in that beautiful nebula behind me. Everything about you is fine and delicate and so 3; precious, Trav!" Kallen exclaimed. He felt his heart tightening, felt the grip of this boy's presence in his life, claiming him. He had felt it before, but saying it somehow made it so real. This boy was so very beautiful, as only he could be! Every odd shaped curve, never fit to the standard measures of beauty, was a perfect work of art in itself!

"My God how beautiful you are!" Kallen suddenly called out, his eyes roaming everywhere about the boy's face, along the lines of his shoulders, seeking out the curve of his arms beneath the blankets 3; with a desperate longing, he knew he had to hold this boy at this very moment, to claim him just as Trav had claimed his man!

"I want to 3; hold you, Trav," he pleaded breathlessly, holding out his arms, as if he expected the boy to jump into them. He pleaded with his eyes too, and saw the answer in Trav's eyes, in his tears, in his smile, in the two little front teeth that slipped into view with his smile. It was all the answer he needed. He almost lunged forward, slipping his hands behind Trav's blanketed shoulders, pulling him forward. He kissed the boy on his forehead over and over, then let one hand glide down Trav's back, to cup his bottom, so he could lift him up.

He rose then, lifting Trav with him, and cradled him in his arms, their eyes locked together.

"Before the very majesty of the heavens, Little Traveler," Kallen declared, twirling around so that both of them could see the grand tapestry beyond the bubble of their little island in space, "I tell you that in my eyes, you are the most beautiful wonder in this universe! I pray that you will always see yourself as I see you. I pray that you will always grant ME the right to define the beauty that you see in yourself."

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