Date: Sat, 15 May 2004 17:58:09 +0100
From: Angela Mynah <angela_mynah@msn.com>
Subject: Fall Little Star Rise Great Sun

Chapter one of     "Fall Little Star, Rise Great Sun"

A story by Angela Mynah

Angela_mynah@msn.com


This story may refer to cross generational sex of both a homosexual and a
heterosexual nature. It may also imply acts of Incest, bestiality,
necrophilia and home brewing.

If this story is illegal in your area or you are offended by such material,
leave now.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Fall Little Star, Rise Great Sun

By Angela Mynah.


     Slowly, as I unbuttoned my fathers shirt I watched him smile. His smile
would have thawed the polar icecaps. He was a handsome man and surprisingly
fit when all things were considered.  As he lay now, naked, he still smiled
at me. The love I felt for him was stronger than it had ever been.

     We had lost my mother, his wife, a while ago. It was true to say that I
was all he had left in the world, and he was all that I had. I suppose that
some people will find this strange, especially when they know that although
I call this man my father, we are not blood relations, we don't even carry
the same name, nor indeed was his wife my real mother.

     I think I should explain what happened. Six years after I was born, my
real mother became ill with cancer, it was so sad to see her getting so much
worse, and it was on the week before my seventh birthday that she went to
that much better place.

    The nurse who had helped dad through those last two terrible months had
in that time become more than just the local nurse, she was a dear friend.
Eighteen months after my mother's funeral, she became my father's second
wife, and although the circumstances that had led to the wedding were
tragic, we were all happy.

    A man might be expected to wonder if he had the right to such joy, but
my dad didn't have to wonder long. An articulated lorry on an icy motorway
travelling too fast crashed into his car removing both his joy and his head
when he was driving to pick up my new mother from work. I had been half
asleep lying on the back seat of the car.

   The ambulance men and the fire crew were wonderful people as they cut me
out of the wreckage only to find that I had spent the last one hour thirty
minutes cradling my fathers severed head in my arms. Dad and mum had only
been married for five months. I was nearly nine years old.

     Mum remarried just before I was ten and I had not even reached eleven
when she too was the victim of a fatal road accident. My newest dad hugged
me to him and promised me that he would love me like I had never been loved
before. I would stay with him for ever and I would be fine.

     On my eleventh birthday I heard him say to a friend he had invited in
for a drink that I had already been to three funerals and experienced the
deaths of three parents yet still I could smile. The nearest I came to
having another mother was when dad became friendly to a woman but some other
guy game along and took her off to Wales somewhere.

     So that's where you find us now. Just Dad and me. Me and dad. The two
of us. It is my twelfth birthday today and I had a good day at school. I
don't have too many friends come here to the house as...   well dad doesn't
like that sort of thing.

     I look into dad's eyes, I see his smile and I get into bed with him,
feeling his naked body against mine. He mutters something,

     "You are a wonderful boy Robin, a wonderful boy. Have I ever told you
that?"

     "Yes dad, you always tell me that. Every night you tell me that I am
wonderful and that you love me, now go to sleep!"

      "yehmmm yhmm yes you are ..you know, you're ,, ,, you're,,  ,,  ,,
yoummmm."

     He's snoring now, I can smell the acrid smell of old beer and whiskey.
Still lets look on the bright side, he wasn't sick and he didn't hit me. I
hate it when he hits me. I know that its not him, it's the drink. He loves
me loads but when he gets drunk he argues with me and falls out with me.
Sometimes he hits me, but I'm not complaining, I know he loves me.

     "Oh my fucking God! ... Robin, Did you put me to bed again last night? Oh
Son, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to be out so long last night, I just got
chatting to some friends and kind of lost track of time."

     "Its ok dad, honest it is. I don't mind, really I don't."

     "Oh Robs, you really are a little hero well not so little now eh? I
mean it's...Holy Shit!! It was your birthday yesterday.  Awww Robs, I will
make it up to you this weekend, you see if I don't. What ever you want to
do, we will do it. No questions no problems. This will be your weekend. The
entire two days devoted to you. Now you go off to school and work out what
you want to do"

     I sat at school and for a few moments wondered what I would like to do
with the weekend. I knew it couldn't be much, money was not exactly flowing.
Dad didn't earn very much with his van driving job and he had his drink to
pay for. I decided I would like to go to the cinema with him and watch a
film, I didn't really care what film, just as long as he was with me.

     I knew that dad had another problem, one he either didn't know about or
one he was pretending didn't exist and it was frightening me. I didn't know
who I could ask for help, I didn't know where to turn. I did know one thing,
I knew this problem and I knew it wouldn't go away. I knew I was gay.

     Each day I would wonder if "today was the right day". would it be the
best time to tell him? How would he react? Would he still love me? I was
terrified it would make him cross enough to make him start hitting me again.
I had never heard him say anything nice about gay people, but I had heard
him say plenty against them.

     So far, on the days I had decided to tell him, he had come back from
the pub and had been a bit too far gone for me to tell him. Whilst that sort
of let me off the hook, it wouldn't solve the problem. I decided to tell him
after the film, when we got home.

     My school day done, I was back home making some supper for us both. I
ate mine and left his under a lid thing, next to the microwave, just in case
he stopped off at the pub on his way home. Upstairs doing my homework I
noticed it was nearly ten o'clock. I had guessed right, he must have dropped
in to see his friends.

     It was a quarter to midnight when I heard the front door open and dad
come in. I was already in bed as he came into our bedroom. We shared the
same bedroom because the windows in mine were broken back in the summer when
he and I were playing basket ball in the garden. He broke them but always
said that I did. He was saving up for double glazing anyway so meantime we
shared the double bed in his room.

     He was asleep before he landed on the bed. I got out and undressed him
again, once again marvelling at his naked form. It felt nice cuddling up to
his warm body, once I had got it into the bed. There wasn't much heating in
the house since the central heating broke down last month. We still had hot
water but that was about all.

     When I woke up this morning, dad was already awake. He was looking at
me, straight into my face.

     "You had to put me to bed yet again last night, didn't you?"

     "No" I lied, "You put your self to bed, but you did seem to have had a
good night at the pub."

     "Don't lie to me Robin, Please do not start lying to me. I don't think
I could handle that. I always know when you have put me to bed, I wake up
naked. When I put myself to bed I wear pyjama bottoms. Now be honest with
me. Did you or did you not put me to bed last night?"

     "Yes dad, sorry, I did get you ready for bed."

     "That's better. I know you meant well when you lied, but please don't
do that, it doesn't help me, and it doesn't help you. Have you decided about
what you want to do over the weekend?"

     I told him about the film I wanted to watch and that it was showing at
the local cinema. He looked in the local paper and saw that it was showing
Saturday but not Sunday. Saturday was the last chance, so it was agreed. It
was also agreed that we would watch the four o'clock performance, and have a
pizza blow out afterwards. I was delighted, so delighted I gave him a hug to
remember.

     All day at school I was thinking about the following day. Dad hadn't
taken me out ever before, we had certainly not been to the cinema together.
I thought of how he reacted when I hugged him. It was odd. He hugged me
towards him but when I looked up at him, I was certain I saw a tear. His
eyes looked really watery.

     Saturday could not come soon enough for me. It was just as well it was
Friday. I busied myself making dad a really nice dinner for when he came
home but as it was Friday, I knew he would probably meet his friends in the
pub. It was minced beef with onions in gravy and some new potatoes. I knew
it was one of his favourites. There wasn't quite enough for both of us but
it was ok because I didn't want much to eat. Dad would be able to eat
plenty. I ate the food I made for him last night, it was a bit dry but ok.

     I finished my homework. I always did my homework to a very high
standard because Dad was usually out and we had no television. It was broken
a month or two back. Dad threw a can of beer at it a bit too hard and it
went with a massive bang. He has promised to get a new one as soon as some
spare cash comes in.

     I must have dozed off in bed because dad really made me jump when he
came in. It was nearly midnight and he had a new friend with him. They had a
bottle of whiskey, a big one, and they were laughing as to who could drink
more of it. I went downstairs to see if they needed anything.

     I had a towel wrapped around me as my pyjamas were in the washing
machine. I only had one pair but dad promised me that he would take me out
to buy some more as soon as he was paid. For now I slept naked when the pair
I had was in the wash.

     I got two glasses out of the cupboard, and gave one each to dad and his
friend. Dad had me sit on his lap as we only had the two chairs and I could
see his friend sitting opposite was looking up my legs, the towel was too
short to hide anything from the angle he was sitting and I had no choice but
to sit still. For ten minutes I knew he was looking at everything I had to
offer.

     Luckily he drained his glass and I got up from dads lap to refill it. I
was able to adjust my towel. I refilled dad's glass too and decided to sit
on the floor.

    "Bloody hell Harvey, you have that lad of yours well trained. What's
your name lad??"

     "I'm Robin, I'm pleased to meet you sir."

     As I stood up to shake the offered hand I found that he had
accidentally rested his foot on the edge of the towel I had been wearing. It
fell to the floor leaving me with one hand out ready to shake his, while the
other tried to preserve what dignity that I had left.

     Dad burst out laughing. He could see the funny side of just about
anything. As embarrassed as I was, I loved that laugh, well, I loved my dad!

     "Come on Robs old son, we're all boys together, no need for the red
face. I'm sure Greg here has seen his fair share of lads through the years.
You haven't got anything that they haven't got."

     Even though some of what dad said was slurred, there was no way I was
going to humiliate him. After all, this guy Greg had seen everything I had
got, he had been given an excellent view when I was sitting on dads lap.

     I took the towel up from the floor and after folding it up, I carefully
placed it on the arm of the chair.  Then, I continued to pour out the
whiskey naked as the day I was born,. I even tried a little bit but thought
it was terrible stuff.

     "This is particularly Roman like, Harvey, The two gladiators being
served by their naked boy slave after mortal combat."

     "Yeah" dad laughed, "If you call half a dozen games of pool `mortal
combat' then I suppose it is."

     Dad laughed again but I could see his eyes were closing as the drink
was taking its toll. It was now gone half past twelve and the pair of then
had drunk nearly a half a litre of whiskey between them. I was topping up
both their glasses as fast as they drank. The inevitable happened, dad went
into a deep sleep.

     It became apparent that whilst dad was now really drunk, for some
reason this guy Greg was getting more and more sober. He was helpful enough
getting dad up the stairs and he went back down while I put dad to bed. On
his way to the stairs I noticed him look into my old bedroom, its lack of
furniture was obvious. There was a strange expression on his face as he
looked back at me, before returning to his glass of whiskey.

     I had always been taught to be a good host and polite to visitors at
all times, so, as soon as I had dad sleeping soundly in his bed, I returned
to his friend Greg.

    I took the opportunity while I was in the bedroom to put on a few
clothes and have to say that on my return to the living room, the
disappointment on Greg's face was obvious.

     "Oh that's a pity, I was rather enjoying having a naked boy servant. It
gives one a strange sense of power. A sense of domination, still all good
things come to an end eh lad."

     "Have you known dad long? Do you drink in the same pub often?"

     We chatted a while and it sort of seemed that Dad had met Greg that
night for the first time and that Greg was only staying in the area a few
days. I also confirmed his suspicions that I slept with my father. I
explained that it was the only room upstairs in the house that anyone could
sleep in, the others either having no furniture in or having broken windows,
or as in the case of my room, both.

     I have no idea why, but when he started talking about my school and
asking how many girlfriends I had, I admitted to him that I was gay. His
response took me completely by surprise.

     "That's handy, both you and your father being homosexual. I knew he was
but thought he was joking when he told me that you were. It was only when
you allowed yourself the pleasure of showing off your body to my was I
certain. That's why I asked you about girl friends. Its brought you out to
me."

     "Dad is gay? Are you sure? I didn't know, he never said, I thought he
would hate me if he knew."

     "Oh dear! I've said something I shouldn't have said. It's the bloody
whiskey, it's loosened my tongue too much. I've just remembered what your
dad said  to me. He said `Please don't say anything to Robin, I want to be
the one to tell him.' Look Robin I must ask you a very big favour."

     He seemed genuine enough to me. As we sat in opposite chairs he almost
begged me not to say anything to dad, and not to `come out' to him either.
He seemed really upset at having told me, upset at doing the one thing my
dad had asked him not to do. I promised him that I would do or say nothing
that would make dad think we had talked about sex and gay stuff. I told him
I would keep everything secret.

     He tried to come over to my chair, but he seemed to stumble a bit and
sat back heavily where he was. I figured that the whiskey was working for
him now. He beckoned me over to him and patted the arm of his chair. He
spoke quietly and I couldn't really hear him so I went to him.

     Although I had tried to sit on the arm of the chair, he must have put
his arm round me tighter than he meant and before I realised it I was
sitting on his lap. I tried to get up but he held me saying,

     "No Robin, Please no. You are fine sitting like that. Please stay
there. Please stay like you are, I like it."

     Although I was rather embarrassed at the closeness of the man, I
stopped trying to get up. As I relaxed I felt Greg relax too.

     "Please let me do this, Please Robin, I promise I won't hurt you."

     I felt his hands wandering over my clothes, shaking slightly as he
undid them as he went. In a very short while I was naked again, and Greg was
drinking up the sight, along with more whiskey. There was no way I was going
to let him have sex with me, though I did let him do pretty much as he
wanted by hand and orally.

     At last the whiskey took full hold and he passed out. I looked at the
bottle, there was almost nothing left. I studied the comatose figure before
me, he was not a pretty sight. I went to bed.

     It was dad stirring that woke me the following morning. He groaned as
he realised that he was, once again, lying naked in bed. He knew that it
meant that I had put him there again. He kissed the top of my head,
something he almost never did.

     "I am sooo sorry Robin, I suppose I wasn't in a very good state when I
got back last night. I met a guy in the pub, we played a few games of pool
and I lost track of time. God knows how I got home, or when!"

     I was about to answer him when he turned over in bed, taking most of
the duvet with him. It was very cold, much colder than it should have been.
This worried me and started me thinking. I threw some clothes on and went
downstairs.

     The front door swung gently on its hinges. I went into the sitting
room, it was empty. No I don't just mean our guest had gone, so had our
stereo and the video. The broken telly was still there but the Persian rug
and silver framed picture of my real mother were not.

     That hurt. It was the only picture I had of her, it was the only
picture I had of any family I had ever had. There was nothing of any value
left in the room, or, in fact, the house. He had been in our bedroom and
taken dads wallet as well, but there was worse to come.

     As I surveyed the few remaining items left in the room, dad walked in.
He was remembering some of the things that had happened. Seeing the towel
folded on the chair arm reminded him of the state of dress they had
encouraged me into. He held me to him as he muttered something about the guy
being an unspeakable shit.

     The man had taken virtually everything we had. On the fireplace shelf
there was a message on the back of an envelope, advising against calling the
law. Inside it there was a Polaroid photo of dad and me, I was snuggled into
dad and although I knew that we were asleep when the picture was taken,
there was no proof of that, and the picture showed dad smiling.

     I felt uncomfortable walking round as Greg had been none too gentle
with where he had pushed his fingers. His teeth too had left their mark. Dad
saw my discomfort and memories of the previous night slowly seeped back into
that scull of his. He now remembered more than just the state he had almost
encouraged me to be in, he was recalling the lecherous smile the guy had..

     As each detail re-entered his conscious thought, he winced in pain.
Pain at the treatment he had indirectly inflicted on me. He hugged me to him
desperately telling me how sorry he was, promising he would make it up to me
somehow.  He eventually managed to raise enough courage to ask if the
bastard had raped me. The only relief he was to get was the knowledge that I
had not actually had anal intercourse with the man.

     Dad followed my gaze to the small cheap cabinet where the photograph
had stood. Only then did he realize that it had gone with the rest of the
valuables. He knew what that picture meant to me. The only thing he could do
was to cover my eyes with his hand to stop me staring at the empty space.

     We spent the morning tidying up the house, trying to cover any trace of
our unwelcome visitor. There was too much misleading evidence to risk
involving the police, but dad was developing a plan to exact revenge on this
unspeakable bastard.

     With the house as good as it was likely to get, the clock said just
gone midday. Dad handed me my fleece, and the pair of us walked to his local
pub. He had in his pocket thirty seven pence, the sum total of all our cash.

     He had lost his credit cards as well as his driving license. It was
Saturday and there was no way for him to get any cash. I worked out that he
was going to try to borrow some, but I also guessed that the pub was about
the only place I was going to go to today.

     Dad had obviously told his tale of woe to his friends as before many
minutes passed, people were coming out of the pub laden with crisps and
cola. We were there from half past midday to three thirty. As dad came out
from the bar, I could see he had drunk a fair amount, he was slurring quite
a lot.

     One of his friends swung round out of the car park, and beckoned us
both in the car. He drove us both to the cinema and as I got out I saw him
slip a twenty pound note in dad's shirt pocket. Dad thanked him and winked,
promising to make it up to the man one day.

     I felt six feet high, standing next to my dad as he bought the tickets
to see the film, and nearly burst out laughing as he playfully flirted with
the woman who was directing us to our seats. This was my dad, my wonderful
dad. I loved him so much it hurt.

    We were only five minutes into the film when the effects of drinking so
much cola started to make themselves felt. I excused myself and went to the
lavatory. I had only been back a minute or two when dad also had to go. I
sat watching the film and suddenly realised that dad had been gone for
nearly half an hour. I walked to the toilets and looked in. He was not
there. Looking about I saw a bar, and dad was propping it up.

     OK so the film wasn't dad's kind of film. I thought the best thing I
could do was go back and watch the rest of it. I knew where he was and he
was still taking me out, just not so close. I watched the rest of the film.
It was rubbish!

     I was out of the cinema and into the bar in less time than the titles
took to go up the screen. Dad was sitting on a bar stool and was none too
stable. The barman was a friendly looking sort.

     "You going to help the old boy home are you young man?"

     I nodded  and helped dad walk to the door. I looked back at the bar
where the steward's smile was wearing thin. I heard him say to nobody in
particular that no child should even see his father in that state, let alone
have to help him home.

     Halfway to our house dad was violently sick. I had no idea what he had
been eating in that bar, but what ever it was it hadn't agreed with him. As
we went in our front door, I could feel dad starting to lose consciousness
again so I took him straight upstairs and put him to bed. I went back down
stairs and ate the only thing I could find, the minced beef I had cooked for
dad the previous day. I had to eat it cold as our glorious friend had taken
the microwave.

     We always look forwards to our Sunday morning lay in. As was often the
case, dad woke before I did. Also as was now days often the case, dad
realised he was naked and knew what that meant.

     "Oh Robin, I really am sorry about yesterday. When I went to the loo, I
thought I would ask in the bar if anyone knew about that bastard Greg. I
must have let the time slip by rather, you were with me in no time. Still,
It was lovely walking home with you afterwards. We did walk home, didn't
we?"

     I smiled at him, he was just lying there smiling too, he was just being
lovely, he was being my dad. I snuggled up to him. I could have spent all
day there and I think he could have too.

     "Robin, I need to go to the Lion again lunch time, do you want to come
too or will you be ok here. You know I love having you with me at the pub,
especially on Sunday lunch time, but we are just a mite short of cash at the
moment."

     I didn't know just why he needed to go to the pub but as we had just
been wiped out by that `Greg' man I knew we hadn't too much cash. I told dad
that I would stay behind. I would do my homework and get ready for school
for Monday.

     Dad said he was meeting someone at twelve o'clock sharp at the Lion,
and sure enough at five to twelve he wandered out of the front door,
ruffling my hair as he went. I looked in the freezer to see what I could
cook for tonight's dinner but all I could find was a pair of bargain
basement steak and kidney pies. Oh well, they would have to do.

     I went to the spare room upstairs to do my homework. That's where the
computer lives. Nope, wrong again. That's where the computer lived. It was
gone. Yet another victim of `Greg's night out'!

    I had to use our encyclopaedia downstairs, I suppose it did me good
having to use real books but it was a pain. It was two o'clock by the time I
finished my assignments. I went into my bedroom and got my books ready for
the following week. I opened my wardrobe to set my clothes out in readiness
too. Half of them were missing.

     I could not fathom out why somebody would want to steal some of my
clothes but was soon resigned to the fact that I had to do the laundry today
rather than on Tuesday. I carried the dirty clothes basket down to the
utility area. I quick check showed me that Greg had not stolen our washing
powder, nor the fabric conditioner. However, on opening the clothes basket I
discovered that he had stolen most of my dirty clothes. Five shirts, two
pairs of trousers and all my underpants had gone. All he had left me with
was eleven socks. I wondered what he wanted with just one sock but I was so
confused that little or nothing seemed to make any sense.

     It dawned on me then that I had very few clothes left. I ran a check.
It was too few clothes. I would have to chat to dad when he got back. I sat
in the middle of our living room, and took stock. What did we have left? A
few clothes, a few sticks of furniture and dad's car, a rather elderly Ford.
Nothing else. The whine of the washing machine reminded me that we still had
that, then I remembered my mountain bike, It was kept in the back garden.

     It had been kept in the back garden, it wasn't being kept there now. It
was being kept in somebody else's back garden now. For the first time I was
feeling dejected. Everything I had ever owned had gone, well nearly
everything. My total current possessions were as follows.

     Socks 23, Shoes 4 plus two trainers. Trousers, two pairs plus one pair
of jeans. Collared shirts 2, T shirts 1, sweat shirts 1 and woollen sweaters
1. My fleece completed the tally of my clothes, and my clothes were the
total of my possessions.

     I never did have much, I never wanted much. My computer, my bike and my
playstation were all the riches I had ever had. I sat and for the first time
since my second mummy died, I started to cry.  My play station had been a
present from my second mother in those happier days.  I wondered who was
playing with it now.

     I had set the oven on timer. I reckoned dad would be back at sometime
around three in the afternoon, four at the latest. The oven was set so the
pies would be ready at four.

    Dad came back at five in the evening. He ate his pie in silence. They
were awful pies even on a good day, but today was not good. The dry mush
that pretended to be gravy was bland and the meat was almost non existent.

     "Robin, I have borrowed a bob or two from some friends. Lets go and get
that pizza I promised you yesterday, we will have it now."

     We got into the car and drove to the pizza café that was just outside
town. It was the cheapest pizza place around and was next door to the Kings
Oak pub. I waited in the café for the pizzas to cook while dad went in next
door to use their toilet. He was only in there forty five minutes, and the
man in the café kept the pizzas warm for us.

     I don't think we were more than a hundred yards from home when I heard
dad suddenly swear out loud. I could see the reflections of flashing blue
lights as dad pulled over to the side of the road and slumped over the
steering wheel.

    He passed the pizzas to me and told me to walk the rest of the way home,
he would be back a bit later. I started for home and as I looked back dad
was being helped into the police car.

     It was nearly midnight when dad came home, he was very very drunk. I
reheated his pizza and handed it to him. He took a few bites then seemed to
lose his temper. The plate and the pizza hit the wall. Before he had a
chance to turn on me I ran upstairs. I was sure he was going to hit me. I
cried out for him not too. I ran into my bedroom and locked the door.

     I heard the front door shut and going to my window, saw dad walking
down the road. It was far too late for the pubs so I wondered where he was
going. My curiosity was cured a few minutes later when dad drove back to the
house. He had gone to collect the car.

     He was driving it into the garage as I left my bedroom and went to his.
I would be alright sleeping there now, dads temper never stayed for long, he
would be much calmer now. Getting into our bed I heard the garage door
close. Dad would be up soon, I knew he would be really sorry for frightening
me, he always was.

     Now everything had settled down I must have relaxed and dozed off to
sleep because I woke with a start. I had slept for well over three hours, I
could tell because it was nearly four o'clock. It was very quiet in the room
all I could hear was the car engine running. I couldn't imagine where dad
was thinking of driving too at this time of night.

     The alarm clock went off at seven thirty, pulling me unwillingly from
my sleep. There was still no sign of dad so I listened very carefully. There
was no sound from the garage so I reckoned that dad had gone out. He would
tell me where when I next saw him. He would tell me everything then, and he
would make everything alright, he always did, that's why I loved him so.

     It was Monday morning and I got ready for school. My breakfast was the
rest of dads pizza, no point in letting that go to waste, even if it was
cold. I have to say it was a boring day at school, I couldn't concentrate on
my work, I kept being upset at dad not sleeping with me last night. He never
let his angry times go on that long before, he always had a kiss for me when
I went to school.

     Finally my day was done, it was time for home. It was not a very long
walk home, less than five minutes and it was as I got nearer our house I saw
police cars and an ambulance. They seemed near our house and as I got closer
I could see that it was our house they were outside.

     I heard our next door neighbour say to a policeman,

     "Look, there he is, that's the slobs poor little boy. Don't let him see
this!"

     It was too late. A stretcher was wheeled out of our garage, on it was a
long black plastic bag. I had seen those on television, I knew what was in
it, but some strange mental block was stopping me work out just who.

     Then the penny dropped. The realisation dawned. And the significance of
the car engine running in the garage with the door shut, told me everything.
My bag fell to the floor. I was rooted to the spot. With my mouth open and
my eyes shut I knew I was about to go to the funeral of another daddy. The
tarmac road came swiftly up to meet my unconscious head.

     * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * *

     Lights flashed. Voices were raised. People were talking to a lump on
the ground. I peered down from some sort of vantage point about fifteen feet
above the scene. I recognised my neighbour, Victor, even though I hardly
knew him. Dad wasn't good with socialising with neighbours. The man in
uniform was saying my name but for some reason I couldn't answer.

     There was an ambulance there, as well as police cars. That man in
uniform was still calling my name. He seemed to be looking at the lump on
the ground. I could see it now, it was a child about my own size, a boy . I
couldn't see his face. Now I heard a new voice, one very different from any
I had ever heard before. It was strange, very strange yet somehow calming.

     "No Robin, not today, you're not coming here yet. I'm not ready for you
now. You are at the nadir of your short life and you are there for a reason.
There is much for you to do and much for you to understand. When you
understand it, you will know everything, and you will know me. When you have
completed your destiny you will be ready for me and I for you. Go back and
do your duty."

     I looked at the face of the boy who was stirring below, I knew that
face, if only he would open his eyes. He did, he opened his eyes and I could
see who he was. I knew who he was. I lost sight of everything as blinding
lights flashed in my face. I was looking up into the face of my neighbour,
and into the face of the policeman who was looking down at me, calling my
name.

     I slipped in and out of consciousness but was vaguely aware of my
neighbour telling the uniformed man my name, only he got it wrong, he said I
was the son of the man I had always called Dad. It was a reasonable
assumption that `Dad was my father but it wasn't so. His name was Harvey
Ranworth, mine was Robin Mitchell.

     The Ambulance man had taken down my name as Robin Ranworth, well, it
was close enough, and the name served its purpose while I spent a few days
in hospital being treated for shock. Shock? Ha! They didn't know the half of
it. I stayed in hospital until Victor, our neighbour, came and collected me.
He and his wife had been keeping a close eye on me, visiting me often. They
had offered me a temporary home until my mother was traced.

     They had no idea that I was so completely alone, nor had the Social
Services. So complex had my history been that no one had really followed it.
I had fallen out of the net of care.

     It had never occurred to me that Dad might have written a will, but
indeed he had. It must have been in one of his moments of sobriety. It was a
simple document. With the exception of the house, all assets were to be
liquefied. Any money needed to be spent on the house would be released and
such work done. The house was then to be let using an agent who dad had
known from his pub.

     The rent, after any tax and agents fees, was to go into a special
account, less ten percent which would be paid directly into my own building
society account. Running fees and expenses for the house would come from
this special account. On my eighteenth birthday, I would be given control of
the whole lot to do with as I saw fit.

     All this was explained to me the day of my father's funeral. The
executors of the will were, the pub landlord, and an old retired gentleman
who was a regular customer of the pub. The old gentleman, Phil, or Uncle
Phil as he preferred me to call him was the one prepared to do all the work,
the landlord was just going to see fair play.

     To start with I stayed with my next door neighbour. This lasted only a
very few days. Then I moved in with Uncle Phil but that was always going to
be a temporary arrangement. It was while I was looking round the house to
make sure there was nothing in the loft worth me trying to salvage that I
saw someone in the garden. I couldn't believe the nerve of the man, bold a
brass there he was looking up at the house from the garden. It was Uncle
Phil who spoke first, he was looking out of the window at the man too.

     "Isn't that the bastard who turned over your house when you were all
asleep?"

     "Yeah that's him. Greg's his name. I wonder what he's looking for now."

     I turned to Uncle Phil but he was already gone. As I looked out of the
window I saw him storming up to Greg and start shouting. I rushed down the
stairs. Greg might not be very handy with his fists, I didn't know, but
Uncle Phil was no youngster and I reckon even I could have flattened him. I
went to give Uncle what ever help I could.

     By the time I got to them, the shouting had stopped, the conversation
sounded almost congenial.

     "I know you find it hard to believe, but that's the truth. That man
owed me money from bets he made with me and that was the way he and I agreed
it could be paid off. Now he's dead I feel like a grade one shit for doing
it. I knew he was an alchy and I new it was the only chance I had of getting
anything off him. I'm not rich, far from it. I needed the money as much as
he did. The only difference is that I ain't got no kid."

     He carried on talking to Uncle Phil and the more I listened the more I
knew he was telling it straight. He used a lot of my dads expressions when
he was saying what my dad had said. He repeated so many of dads excuses and
reasons, I knew. I could tell that if this man Greg was lying he could never
have known half of what he did know.

     He knew dad and had been let down by him. To paraphrase Sir Winston
Churchill as dad so often did, It was a situation up with which I would not
put.

     By now Greg had noticed my presence and was visibly shaken and
uncomfortable. I was not quite ready to let him off the hook. I knew exactly
what was going through his mind. I was on home ground and with friends
reasonably close by. He was wondering just how many people knew that he had
enjoyed a number of highly illegal activities with a young boy. Ok, he never
actually had anal sex with me but he had done pretty much everything else he
fancied, certainly enough to give him a long and uncomfortable stay in one
of `Her Majesties Prisons'.

     I was still trying to figure out how much mileage I could make from
this when he started speaking to me.

     "Well, are you still speaking to me? I wouldn't blame you if you don't
want to, I behaved like a real shit I know. I don't suppose there's anything
I can do to set things straight is there."

     His last question was more of a statement but I was getting an idea.

     "Where do you live Greg?"

     "I've got a flat in Raythorpe, about six miles away, why?"

     "I don't know yet, but is it a big flat?"

     Greg looked at me for a moment. I could tell he was sizing me up. After
a few moments he gave me an answer.

     "It's a two bedroom flat in quite a nice part of town. I own it free
and clear. Its about all I have to my name. Now tell me, just what is going
on in that head of yours?"

     "Are you married? Do you live with anyone?"

     "No, I`m a free agent, no ties I can do much as I want, within the
confines of my job that is. I am a freelance journalist, and if I may say
so, quite a good one. Now please tell me what you're thinking, I rather need
to know.

     "If you have blackmail in mind then I can tell you I have no assets I
can easily call on. Not only that, I will adopt the attitude `publish and be
damned' I may...   no will, go down for what I did to you but you would get
damaged too. I would see to that. You would be known as a blackmailer and as
a result it would always be wondered how willing you were to participate.  I
hate playing rough but I will if you corner me. Please don't make me have to
behave like that, I promise I really don't want to."

     "No, honestly, I am not thinking blackmail. But I'm not sure what I am
thinking. I want to talk to Uncle Phil, but before I do, What would you say
to living in this house with me, so I don't have to go in a home? Could that
happen?"

     I left Greg thinking about that while I went to see Uncle Phil. Well!
Talk about stir up a wasps nest! I had people rushing about all over the
place all working out the logistics and all trying to find out what would be
best for me. It took a while and I stayed with the pub landlord while it was
all sorted out

     Eventually Greg, Uncle Phil and the pub landlord, Vince, all got
together with me and discussed the `master plan' that they had come up with.
It seemed that all three of them were saying that my security was paramount
and that there could be no risks taken with my inheritance.

     The plan was in reality Win Win all round. Greg's flat had been valued.
That was easy, one on the same floor was up for sale. My house was valued at
near enough twice the value of his flat. Greg was to get a mortgage and buy
my house. He would sell his flat to me and I would buy (through the trustees
of the will) the other flat on the same floor. Both flats would be rented
out, the proceeds to be treated in the same way that had been planned for
the house. I was a boy of means. I agreed. It was a good arrangement.

     On the very first day back in my house, Greg and I set out some ground
rules. As regards his behaviour with me. My bum was out of bounds for all
but sight, I had no qualms about showing myself to him but what he could
touch was strictly limited. In return I would treat him like I would my
father. After all, that was what he was going to be for me. He described to
me, what was meant by a `boy lover' and I had to accept his being one. The
arrangement was smooth and worked well for many months. It would have gone
on even longer if I hadn't let my curiosity get the better of me.

     I could always tell when Greg had been watching porn sites, he always
had to go to his room and `relieve' himself. This had been such a day. It
was a Saturday and it was raining. I had been on my computer doing my school
assignments but had gone down to the living room to ask Greg something. I
realised he had gone to his room and I guessed why. I went to his computer ,
it was still turned on and still displaying pictures of boys. I started
looking through them then it happened. I came across the picture of a boy so
beautiful, so attractive I instantly fell in love with him.

     I looked into his eyes, they were blue, and perfect of course but the
more I looked the sadder the eyes became, I was swimming in the vista of
those eyes, I could read the story behind them, and the story was sad, the
story was tragic, the story was real.

     "Well, if you are going to start looking at what I get up to on the
internet, I will have to remember to log off."

     "Greg? Who's this boy? Have you got many pictures of him? He's lovely."

     Greg came and took a closer look.

     "Oh yes that one, isn't he gorgeous, I could just eat him."

     "Are there many photo's of him?"

     "Oh yes, loads. He is a regular on these sites. He's from Russia, a lot
of them are. Since the Cold War ended an awful lot of these types of photo's
have been coming through from there. I think it's a way of earning a living
for a lot of the boys. They probably get enough money for doing this to feed
their entire family."

     I studied the pictures in more detail. There was something wrong.
Greg's explanation sounded right but there was still something wrong. I had
no doubt that Greg believed what he was saying, but something told me he was
wrong, very wrong indeed.

     I started to put myself in the boy's position but somehow, I was unable
to do this, nothing really worked. Something was missing from my scenario,
something vital. Eventually I asked Greg the question that was to bring
about changes in both our lives, changes from which there would be no way
back.

     "Greg, can I watch when you surf the net? Can I join in? I want to know
more."

     "Of course you can my little treasure, why don't you sit on my lap and
we can look at some more."

     I sat on his lap and tolerated his gentle fondling as we looked at the
various pictures from the many sites he belonged to. Greg's hand had slipped
inside my underpants as he continued to run through picture after picture of
boys, some erect some not. I was taking in all he had to show me till
eventually I lost concentration as he worked me up to a climax.

     Greg was so happy at the progress he had thought he had made with me,
but his elation was both premature and short lived. In very few words I
reminded him that although I was gay, I was attracted to boys my own age,
not older guys who should know better. He resumed his surfing, me still on
his lap but both of his hands were occupied on the keyboard and mouse. I
have to admit, I did feel just a little bit sorry for him. At the end of the
session Greg looked at me.

     "Well sweetheart, did that do anything for you?"

     "Yes and no. I don't know what I am looking for, but I am looking for
something. Were all those boys Russian?"

     "Yes, I showed you all the Russian sites I belong to. Is where they
come from important to you then?"

     "I don't know, I think it might be. There's something I don't
understand though, and I can't explain what it is I don't understand. That
doesn't make a lot of sense does it!"

     I think Greg could tell I was getting agitated because he sort of
changed towards me. Now he was cuddling me, but it was a different sort of
cuddle, it was warm and dare I say `loving'. There was another difference in
this cuddle, it wasn't accompanied with the expanding bulge between his legs
I had become so accustomed to. He held his head against mine as he spoke
softly to me.

     "Don't be frightened by things that make no sense. Tell me your
thoughts and I will try to make things clear to you. We both know I love you
in a way I shouldn't, but believe me, I think I love you in many other ways
too. This is a difficult time for both of us. Try to give me time and I will
try to overcome those things that I feel that I shouldn't feel."

     He kissed me and in my mind I went back to when I was nearly nine years
old and my real dad kissed me. That was the last time I had felt such
tenderness. I cuddled up to Greg and started to cry.

     I have cried a few times in my life but never like this. I let Greg
have `Both barrels', it all came out. I drained out my feelings for all the
mummies and daddies I had lost. I cried for Harvey and the way he killed
himself. I cried for my real father and the crash that took him from me. I
sobbed for my real mother, lost to Cancer and my second mummy, also killed
in a crash. Then I looked at Greg. How long was I to have with Greg? When
was he to be taken from me. How long before he too went on that `role of
honour' Deceased parent of Robin.

     I must have cried for nearly two hours, and in all that time Greg never
let me go. He held me, squeezed me and cuddled me. Kisses rained down on me
along with whisperings and more hugs. He held me to him as a shield of love
and not once, not once at all, did he try to do anything inappropriate.

     I slept in his bed that night, each dressed in our nightwear and it was
right, it was as it should be. A boy and his guardian. I had not loved Greg
till that moment. I had not allowed myself to, I was determined not to feel
close to this man but I failed. I failed and I felt so much safer for it.

     Nothing was said about my breaking down for a couple of days but I
could see that it played on Greg's mind and it seemed to be a heavy burden
for him. Eventually he summoned the courage needed and asked,

     "Do you feel strong enough to talk about things? I didn't think you
were quite ready from the other day, are you now?"

     I reckoned that this was going to be an emotional thing so I snuggled
up to him before answering.

     "Please, I don't want you to be cross with me but I don't want to love
you, and you said you loved me and I get frightened."

     "I'm sorry Robin. First, let me tell you this. I will only ever be
cross with you if you are naughty and I need to be, but second, I will try
not to `love' you, I know you don't like it and we both know it's wrong."

     "No, I didn't mean like that! I don't like that much either but it
wasn't what I meant. I meant I get frightened when you are really nice to me
and cuddle me and things. I get scared `cos everyone who likes me and looks
after me gets dead and I don't want you to die `cos I like you and I don't
want to like you and I get frightened what will happen to you if I like you
too much."

     Although all my fears came out in one lump he seemed to understand them
and pulled me closer to him. He stroked my hair as he answered.

     "Hey little one, calm down. There's no easy way of saying this so here
it is straight, you have had a crock of shit for a life and it's not your
fault. Now! There is no reason to say that because things were shit before
they will be shit in the future. Even though you know the sort of guy I am,
I am going to do my damned best to prove to you that you are ok with me.

     "I don't believe in fate, so I don't believe that you loving me, or me
looking after and loving you, will mean that I die early. If I had thought
that, I would have left you ages ago. Like it or not you have me for keeps
and if ever you think you can ever love me in the same way you loved Harvey,
then I will be the luckiest man in the world."

     I couldn't help myself, I kissed him. He kissed me back. We went into
some strange sort of embrace each kissing and hugging the other and once
again I noticed that even with this overt show of affection, there was no
tell tale swelling in his loins. The love we were demonstrating for each
other was pure. It was good.

     After a while and our little bonding session had ebbed away to be
replaced by normal behaviour, we started talking about the sites on the
internet he frequented. I sat on his lap again as he surfed his favourites.
The site we looked at this time was an American one, advertising that it was
art and not pornography, and that there was no age limit on art. Age limit
or not, I was far from convinced.

     It was while we were looking at a picture from an American site that I
noticed something. Maybe it was just one of life's strange coincidences but
the blankets on the bed in this picture were the same as the ones in one of
the pictures from a Russian site.

     The boy in the photograph was pretty nice anyway so I asked Greg to
print the shot off. He looked at me a little oddly and muttered something
about not liking having those sorts of pictures laying about but he printed
it anyway. It was a good photograph  and it printed well.

     It couldn't have been an hour later that I asked for another picture to
be printed. This was of two boys playing with each other on a bed. The site
was a German one. A little after that a Russian site had a picture that I
wanted. Greg printed this one off too.

     "Getting to be quite the little collector aren't you!"

     He was smiling when he said it but the puzzled expression I wore took
the smile from his face. I spread out the three pictures. Pictures one and
two had the same bed clothes and the same bedside cupboard. On top of the
cupboard in the American picture was a magazine, just about recognisable as
a batman comic, whereas on the German site the cupboard displayed a German
newspaper.

     Picture three, the Russian site had nothing on the cupboard but a
picture of one of the Russian presidents hung over the bed. All three
photo's had a picture hanging over the bed, one of an eagle and one of a
mountain scene. All three pictures were exactly the same size, and in the
same position.

     All three photographs showed a mains electrical socked next to the bed,
though each of the sockets were appropriate to the country they purported to
be taken in.

     Greg and I studied the photographs in great detail. The more we looked
the more we saw, and one thing became very plain to see. There was just one
room, sometimes it was said to be in Germany sometimes Russia and sometimes
it was in America but it was just one room. It had to be in just one place.

     "Well so now what Robin? Or should I say `Sherlock' ? What do we know
so far?"

     "They all look so sad. I bet they hate doing this, I wonder why they do
it. It can't just be for money."

     "Well, It might be, as I said to you, it may mean the difference
between starving and having food on the table. Things are easier here than
in Russia."

     "I don't think those boys are in Russia."

     "Where do you think that they are then?"

     "I don't know but I think they're not in Russia America or Germany. I
think that they are not in any country that the pictures say they're in."

     "Good point. So where do we go from here, and why?"

     "I don't know. Is there anything we can do for them?"

     Greg was just about to give me his answer when the door bell rang. It
was Uncle Phil. I was just shutting down the internet connection when Greg
came in the living room with him. Greg winked at me a soon as he realised
what he had so nearly just done. I had also gathered up the photographs we
had printed and took them to my room. I still put them in a safe place, just
in case.

     Back downstairs, Uncle Phil was waiting for me.

     "I have some rather interesting news for you young Robin, things have
been going on over the last few years that I have started to take an
interest in. I'm afraid however, that as I explain all what's been going on,
some aspects may upset you. It important that you are a brave boy, can you
be that for me?

     I nodded. I had no clue what he was talking about but figured I would
know soon enough.

     "Firstly, let me tell you that there is a firm of solicitors called
Rolland, Fortson Dibbhams and Sons. They were the acting solicitors for your
original mother. She had taken out an insurance policy for her life that
would put a sizable sum of money in trust for you in the event of her death
before your sixteenth birthday. As you know, that occurred.

     "On her death, your father took out a similar policy in the event of
his death before your sixteenth birthday. That too occurred. Your fathers
widow, your step mother also had life insurance as did your step father. The
policies were never claimed on. The solicitors mislaid the documents, and
have till now denied the existence of any such cover. I have found various
references to the policies and have been on to the insurance companies
involved. They knew nothing of the deaths but now they do they are
investigating.

     "When the insurance companies give me the information I need, I shall
start legal action against the solicitors. I'll enjoy that. Those solicitors
have shown a level of incompetence that I am sure can be regarded as near
criminal negligence. The firm of solicitors is a large practice and nowadays
specialises in company law. I am confident that they will be trying for an
out of court settlement. We shall see what they offer.

     "I don't want to sound money grabbing Phil, what's Robins is Robins,
but what sort of figure overall are you talking about here?"

     "Greg, I really wish I knew but the indications are that we are talking
about somewhere between half a million to a million pounds here. However
much it is, it will be a tidy little sum."

     As the following few weeks passed, things happened so quickly, I was
barely able to follow it all. The solicitors caved in without a fight, and
rather than face charges of criminal negligence offered an out of court
settlement of one hundred and twenty five thousand pounds as compensation.
We accepted on the condition of their actioning successful claims against
the insurance companies on our behalf free of charge. The last concession
the solicitors had to make was to allow the trust fund they held to be
amalgamated with the trust fund that Harvey had set up in his local pub.

     The total of claims they brokered  in this manner paid us just over
five hundred thousand, giving my trust fund a cash worth of seven hundred
thousand and a little loose change, and of course the two flats I already
owned. With all the contacts I had in Harvey's old pub two of which were
trustees, a formidable team had developed. There was a cross section of
skills and businesses, all close friends with each other and all pulling
together knowing that there was money to be made for all. I had become a
very popular little boy.

     The trustees had put a safeguard on the situation for me too. Anyone
wishing to do business with the fund had to guarantee that the fund would
not lose. Most of those in the group had put their own houses up as
security.

     The net result of all this activity was that I was not only the owner
of two flats, I also owned a building site where three blocks of twelve
flats were being built, all would be available for rent by my thirteenth
birthday. Almost everybody employed to work on these flats drank at the Lion
Inn, dad's old pub. The estimated net income based on the flats I would own,
was just below fifteen thousand pounds per calendar month. That was one hell
of a lot of lollypops.

     It was the day that my future income had been estimated and plans drawn
up for the trust funds future, that found Greg and I alone in the house.

     "I don't really understand you Robin. Today you have been told that, if
you play things carefully, you will never have to work  in your life. To
look at you I would have thought you had been told that you were a condemned
boy, about to be taken out and shot. What does it take to make you happy?"

     "If I ask some questions, will you tell me the truth and promise me you
will."

     "Yes I will tell the truth I promise. Now , what's worrying you?"

     "How much did dad owe you when you stole our stuff and did you know I
lived there? What happened to my things and is any of it left at your flat?"

     "Oh Bugger! I suppose I had thought that side of our meeting was gone
and forgotten but I guess it won't be till you know everything. I will tell
you the whole lot but remember you won't like it. Some of it will hurt.

     "Right, first how much money did your dad owe me? Five thousand pounds.
We agreed that I could do the `thief' act. The photo of him and you in bed
was also agreed to stop the law being involved. He knew he would be naked
cos he knew that you would be the one to put him to bed. He reckoned you
would be naked too `cos your things were in the wash. Lastly he knew I liked
boys so he was pretty sure that I could talk you into playing about a bit.
He knew you would be as near naked when we arrived, the rest was up to me.

     "I still have your clothes, some may fit and I still have a photo in a
silver frame, the picture is of a woman, I took her to be Harvey's wife."

      I corrected him on who the photo was of, and he agreed to go into the
loft and recover the things that were put up there when he moved in. When he
told me the use he had put my clothes to, I rather lost interest in having
them back, laundered or not!

     It had been an uncomfortable chat but I felt better for having had it.
Finally he asked what he or we could do to put that sordid matter well and
truly behind us. My answer took him very much by surprise

     "I was wondering how we can find the boys, those ones in the photo's. I
was thinking what we could do to help them. I was wondering what country
they were in."

     "Hmm, I knew there was a reason I loved you."

     Greg laughed, but I knew he wasn't making fun of me. I was nurturing a
plan but I hadn't worked quite how it could work. I also reckoned that if I
told Greg about my plan, he would go ballistic. I had to have all the
answers ready before I said anything to him. Also I was developing a growing
problem so to speak, and it was one that interfered with my plan. It told me
that my time for doing what I intended was limited.

     "Greg, apart from those pay sites you use, are there any groups you
belong to, you know the sort of thing?"

     "Yes I know the sort of thing and yes there are some groups I belong
to. Now why is it I always get a bad feeling when I hear you ask those sorts
of questions?"

     "Would you show me those groups as well as the sites you use? I think
I've got an idea."

     Greg's face said it all. Those six words had struck terror in his
heart. `I think I've got an idea.' Must be the most damning words a boy can
say. He looked at me almost in a resigned way.

     "You going to tell me what this `Idea' is them?"

     "Errr, no."

     "Are you not telling me because you haven't worked it all out yet, or
because I wouldn't approve?"

     "A bit of both"

     "Is it safe?"

     "I think you will think not."

     "I don't think I like the sound of this already. So how much are you
prepared to tell me? Better still, if you haven't sorted out the finer
details, bounce your idea off me, maybe we can cobble something together if
we work on it as a pair."

     "You won't like it!"

     "Try me."

     "You'll go Ape."

     "Well try me anyway."

     "In these groups you get to chat to the other members right?"

     "Yes we do sometimes talk to each other, well e-mail each other, same
difference."

     "Do you get to trade pictures with other members?"
     "Some trading goes on yes, I don't do much myself but that's my
choice."

      I sat quiet for a while, I was trying to build up the courage to take
this conversation where it logically had to go. I didn't like where it was
going but I couldn't see any alternative.

     "Its no good trading pictures you find on the net. If we want to find
out where some of these boys come from, we need to trade pictures that only
you have, ones not available on the net."

     "Hmm, you are right about that, and you are right about something else
too."

     "What's that?"

     "I'm about to go Ape at you Robin.  What the fuck do you think you're
thinking about. We both know that the only `unique' pictures I could get
hold of would be pictures of you. Once there are pictures of your cute
little body on the internet they would spread like wild fire. Who knows who
would see them but one things for sure. Every damned pervert in the world
would have access and would ultimately be tossing themselves off to images
of you.

     "Now, it may not matter to you that some pedo in Outer Mongolia is
whacking his meat looking at pics of you, so what. But what about the guy
rubbing himself while he watches you through binoculars, because he lives
close and has recognised you. What plans is he busy hatching. Kids get
killed for just that sort of thing. Please Robin, I want you to promise that
you will NEVER EVER do anything that puts erotic pictures of yourself on the
net.

     "I am proud of you Robin, very very proud, that you would even think of
doing such a thing to help out some poor unfortunate, but don't do it. I
won't let you do it. We will think of something else. Anything else."

     There were tears falling down his cheeks and he had grabbed me and was
shaking me as he made me promise that I wouldn't take that route. I was more
than willing to both make and keep that promise. He sat down heavily on the
couch, pulling me down on top of him. As he kissed me he was talking to me.

     "Robin,  You have already acquired a lot of money for a boy of your
age, but what you were offering was worth a thousand times a thousand
fortunes. You offered yourself and that's a price higher than I will let you
pay. I won't forget you offered it though, it's shown me something very
important, it's shown me how important helping those boys is to you. We will
help those boys, God only knows how, but we will do something."

     I hugged him, I couldn't help it. He had realised how I felt, even if
he didn't understand why. Greg not understanding why? What was I thinking?
Even I didn't understand why I was feeling like I did. I snuggled into his
lap and we talked about what we could do.

     Although I had promised him that naked pictures of me were no longer an
option I still felt that I was the key, I could, no, should be the bait. I
had a problem though, and I told Greg I had.

     "What problem is that Robin?"

     I undressed in front of him, something I hadn't done before. He
couldn't help it, I had aroused him, and he was wishing I hadn't. He looked
but still didn't see. I moved closer, then closer still. Suddenly the penny
dropped. He saw the problem.

     "Well Well Well, we are getting older then, I spy the start of a
respectable bush. Is that what this rather enjoyable display is all about
then?"

     "Yes it is but I don't want it. It stops me being attractive. I'm going
to cut it off."

     "Whoa there, not so fast my little one, not so fast. Now its my turn to
have an idea, and with a bit of luck it's one hell of a lot safer than
yours. Just a moment, let me think...   Ok now this is what we put forwards
as bait."

      "Gentlemen, I have on offer one fast approaching thirteen year old
boy. He has now developed his first pubic hairs which are to be shaved off
by the best bidder dealing in boy pictures or better, experiences. Live
action preferred. Any pictures have to be unavailable on the internet. For
our part we will keep them that way. It may be possible for a live webcam
link for the second highest bidder. Conditions may apply."

     "Well Robin, what do you think of that, It's a bluff of course, but
what I hope we will get as responses will be pictures of bait for us, but
what we are looking for is surroundings we recognise."

     "So, who gets to shave me then, some strange old guy who perves after
me? I'll do it only if you really think it helps some boys."

     "No you sweetest of creatures, Nobody is going to touch you, not for as
long as I have breath in my body."

     "So how do I get rid of the hair?"

     "Well for now, you don't, but don't let that get you down. Your private
concerns will sit on the back burner just for now. Is that ok?"

     "Do you think it'll work?"

     "It can't hurt."

     "Ok. Go for it."

     I watched as Greg prepared a note giving the details more or less as he
had first described to me. He must have worked at it for at least a couple
of hours, getting the phrasing jut right. I felt just a little sorry for him
too, he had the mother of all boners throughout. I decided that if anyone
other than myself was going to shave me, It would be Greg. I just wasn't
going to tell him, that's all!

     At last Greg had the layout of the invitation to his satisfaction. In
the end it was very clever. It not only did NOT ask for erotic pictures of
boys, it specifically asked for none to be sent at this stage though
pictures of fully clothed boys were welcomed as samples and as such, bids
accompanied by such photographs would receive priority attention.

     We waited for the early evening when one or two members of the groups
were about. Greg's name in these groups was `Bluebottle' and as soon as he
logged on, there was a series of `Hi Bluebottle' welcoming comments. He
asked if anyone present was from the UK and after getting responses, he
e-mailed those who said they were. He had sent out just over a dozen invites
when we started getting `notification of mail' notices. We read the mails,
almost all of them more or less said "Name your price" we replied saying
that this was worth more than money, it was trading we wanted. In answer to
any "what do you want" enquiries, we replied "What have you got"

     It looked at first as if the whole idea was a non starter. Some of the
offers were very attractive with many of them obviously not genuine but none
of them were offering the sort of thing we wanted offered. A lot were
showing pictures of boys (and some girls) saying "This is my son" or "This
is my nephew". These pics were of stock internet boys, some of them very
well known photo's. We were about to give up on the idea when another mail
came through.

     "Hiya Bluebottle, Ticklebeard here, I have a genuine trade for you,
look at the attached zipfile and get back to me ASAP. I have access to all
the kids pictured and maybe more. Contact me and we can talk."

     We downloaded the zipfile and `unzipped' it. There were a dozen or so
pictures for each of five boys all about ten years old and two girls about
the same age. All the children were holding a copy of today's paper but the
most important thing was the room, it was the room we had been wondering
about. Was it in Russia? No. America? Not at all. The closest we had seen it
was Germany, but it wasn't even there, no, it was here in the UK, England.
Greg almost froze on the spot.

     "Fuck my old boots! He's here in the UK! We'd better be bloody careful
here, this guy's for real, on the other hand it could be a ring. If this is
a pedo ring, they may not be too fussy who they hurt."

     "A pedo ring?"

     "A group of paedophiles rather than just one on his own. A single guy
doing things to a boy or perhaps two, we could have taken on, but this is
different. It may be well organised, and there could be over a hundred
members. We might have bitten off more than we can chew here."

     "So what now? What do we do and can we help the boys? How many boys are
there? Can we help them all? Where are they? What will they want to do with
me?"

     "For Christ's sake Robin, give me a moment or two. I need to think. I
need to buy some time before I decide, sorry, `We' decide what to do next."

     "What makes you so sure it's a them and not a him?"

     "I wasn't at first but the more I think this through, the more sure I
am. There are certain things like he says `I have access to all the kids
pictured and maybe more' if he was on his own he'd know what he could offer,
and it wouldn't be seven kids. One or two at best. No, this guy has a stock
available. I am going to tell him I'm interested and that I'd like to know
just what he is offering."

     Greg carefully wrote a reply to Ticklebeard inviting him to give
further details about what was on offer. Ticklebeard replied immediately
suggesting they went to one of the instant messaging systems. Greg did.

     Ticklebeard was keen, he wanted to shave me. He wanted to do a whole
lot more as well, the details he gave left nothing whatsoever to the
imagination. He was going to arrive here on whatever day we agreed and he
would have with him a selection of kids. Greg would be able to choose one or
two to play about with while I was being prepared in front of the others.
Then I would be shaved and lastly I would be allowed to do as I pleased with
a boy and a girl. The whole thing to be filmed and none of it to go on the
internet.

     There was another guy who came on, his name was RockerBox. He too was
asking to be the one to play with me but his offer in exchange was far less
attractive. He was on the other hand, very keen that I should enjoy the
experience, and talked much about cuddles and affection. I liked him and it
was only because of me that Greg kept the conversation going with him

     Although I watched, I sort of lost the plot and started to think Greg
was going through with what Ticklebeard was advising. I felt that Greg was
giving away far too much personal information about me, I felt like I was
being used in a way that was more pleasing to Greg and his friend than
likely to help other kids. Eventually Greg said `bye' to Ticklebeard and
logged off. I must have looked really pensive. Greg held me to him, then
kissing the top of my head he went up to his room and came back with a thin
wad of paper. It was a hard copy of everything that had been said, along
with copies of the e-mails and prints of the photo's that Ticklebeard had
sent.

     Greg sorted it all out then putting the whole lot in an envelope, he
addressed it all to the Vice Squad, Scotland Yard.

     "There now. That should rattle a cage or two, now we have to sit and
wait. If the police act quickly enough, they can tell me what to do next,
otherwise I will just have to wing it!"

    Greg walked to the post office and sent the documents first class. We
chatted for a while, guessing at how long it would be before we heard from
the police, Greg reckoned it would be within the week, I thought longer. We
calculated that the package would be on an officer's desk by midday
tomorrow. There was a knock at the door.

     "Mr Beamer? Mr Gregory Beamer?

     "Errr yes. Yes I am Greg Beamer."

     "May we come in please sir? I am Detective Inspector Sutton, and this
is Sergeant Pointer. We could discus this on your door step but it might be
better if we came in and talked inside."

     Greg let them in but he looked so pale, I felt sick. I wanted to hide.
The two men looked around. We couldn't move Greg was trembling. I started to
cry, certain that I was about to lose yet another daddy albeit this time to
prison. Greg came to me and hugged me. The two men looked as I hugged Greg
back. One of the men opened his briefcase and took out a small parcel.
Greg's eyes opened wide. It was the one he had posted not an hour before.

     "This, my young friend, is your "Get out of jail free" card. Until you
posted this we were going to arrest you for all manner of nasties. Let me
explain, The sergeant and I are working for the anti paedophile team. We
were homing in on a couple of people when your profile came up on our
screen. We were interested in your offer. We have been monitoring your
internet activities for a while now and today you moved from a class two
suspect to a class eight. We move fast on sevens and above, very fast.

     "We had you under close observation within ten minutes of your offering
the lad here for a hair cut. You were followed to the post office and this
package, as you see, was retrieved. When we read it we thought we may have
read you wrong. We know for example that you are both involved. So, is there
anything you would like to tell us here before we go onto the next stage?"

     "Am I allowed to ask what the next stage is?"

     "You may ask, but as `what the next stage is' is largely up to you,
I'll not be giving you an answer. I can say this however, you are probably
in no immediate danger of losing your liberty."

      That did it for me. As Greg sat down I sat on his lap and made it
clear that nothing less than dynamite would loosen the hug I held on him.

     "Okay Gentlemen, Firstly and unconditionally I am going to cooperate in
any way I can and that you see fit. I do ask that you keep Robin in mind at
all times, he has already been through one hell of a lot in his short life,
try not to make things worse."

     "We are fully aware of Robins situation and even his orientation. Yes
lad, we know you haven't `come out' but we have been monitoring all internet
activities from this house, including yours. We took an interest when Mr
Beamer moved in with you. It was only when, in one of your conversations
with one of your internet friends, you pointed out that he was `actively
behaving himself', we decided to leave well alone, at least for the time
being."

     "Hang on a minute, I just want to make sure I've got the story straight
so far. Firstly, you know I am sexually attracted to young boys, second you
know I live with one and third you know I use pay sites for pictures of boys
too."

     "Mr Beamer, you can add to that list that we know that you have traded
pictures of naked boys and that you have been known to hang around schools
looking at the boys there too. However, add to that list that you have never
before attempted to meet up with any other `boylover' and that when you
mentioned to someone that you now lived with a boy you threatened to
castrate them for what they suggested you could do. Generally speaking we
felt Robin was safe, until this latest escapade you embarked on. That's when
we thought we might have made a mistake."

     "You haven't, you haven't. I am safe with Greg I love him and he loves
me but not in the wrong way. We love each other in the right way. He would
never hurt me and he wouldn't let anyone else hurt me either. All he did
about asking if anyone wanted to shave me was my idea, I wanted to help some
boys, I still do."

     "Why? Why do you think you want to help? You aren't a sexual abuse
victim, what's your interest?

     "I think I can answer that for Robin, and probably clearer than he can.
Try to imagine a young boy who has had everything on a plate, wealth love
education, the whole works. Then imagine how he would react if he lost it.
He would never have realised what he had till it was gone and he would be as
sore as hell that he lost it. He would be bitter and he would pour out scorn
on whoever he could. Robin is the reverse. He had nothing but now has so
much. Now he sees abuse and wants to stop it. He sees want and he tries to
fulfil it, he sees pain and he tries to soothe it. In fact it's not just a
desire to help, it's a need to help.

     "And just how do you think you have helped anybody so far young man?"

     "Oh come on, unfair. Its less than a day where we have tried this and
we've handed you one group on a plate plus another guy we're looking at,
though he seems mostly harmless. The ring is nasty though, and we are
hanging it out to dry, well nearly, well, they will be on a plate when we
get the rest of the information on them. Don't have a pot at Robin just
because we haven't quite finished the job yet."

     "Hmmm, I think I want to stop you right where you are. You haven't
handed anybody to anybody. Please let me assure you that all you've really
done so far is get very slightly in our way. Oh and before you start going
on about Ticklebeard, We know more about him than you can ever dream. Though
we always like to gather any more info that crops up"

     "Then why is he at large abusing boys so terribly? He operates in the
United Kingdom, we know that much."

     "Rest assured, Ticklebeard's days of abusing children are numbered.
We're planning a party for him and a lot of his friends, and yes you were
right, he is part of a ring. One we are infiltrating. You nearly got in our
way with your latest little wheeze. Oh and yes, this one you describe as
`mainly harmless' an individual and my best guess is that his internet name
is `RockerBox' Am I right?"

     "Yes that's him, I think he's mainly harmless because he really seems
to care about the boys. Dare I say it I rather liked the man and so did
Robin. I suppose you're going to tell me that's what makes him so
dangerous."

     "RockerBox operates all over the world, in fact, RockerBox is more than
one person. RockerBox is about fifteen people maybe more. He is generally
believed to be one of the main ringleaders in the dealing and photographing
of young boys and even some girls. Those who know there is more than one
RockerBox think of him as one of two things. The most common understanding
is that they mastermind the safest and tightest paedophile rings in the
world."

     "And what's the second understanding?"

     "The second understanding is in fact the truth. The second
understanding is that anybody using the code name RockerBox is someone who
works for or on behalf of Interpol's Paedophile section, and I hope that the
UK RockerBox is just about to set up shop."

     "Are you saying that you are RockerBox?"

     "No, I am saying that I WAS RockerBox, just for a day or so while we
set up the UK operation Now I hope YOU are RockerBox, You and Robin together
that is. The pair of you meet the requirements and with just a little
training in technique you would become valuable members of a worthwhile and
sadly necessary team.
Well, Are you up for it?"

     *****************************************************************

Well Well Well!  Will Greg and Robin start a crusade against cruelty to
young boys?
Are they to become linked to the anti Paedophile branch of Interpol?
Do you give a damn?

You e-mail me and tell me

Angela_Mynah@msn.com