From: Boy-writer <bstory@anon.nymserver.com>
Subject: Story "Terminator" M/b/b cons
Date: Sat, 22 Feb 1997 10:19:38 -0800
Organization: The Bear's Den

As with all the stories in this newsgroup, the usual warnings and
Disclaimers appy here. If you
are under 18 years of age (or whatever the legal age is in your locale),
or are easily offended by
graphic stories of sexual activity between adult males and minor boys,
do not download or read
this story beyond this point.

   I am NOT the author of this story, it was emailed to me by a friend
who wishes to remain
anonomous. I am only posting this story for him.  Happy reading! :-)

Terminator
----------

Terry was happy.  Well, maybe not happy, but satisfied with his life.
Finally he had a steady job and a place to live, though it wasn't much -
just a crappy rooming house.  Truth be told, the job wasn't great,
either,
but after 5 years as a bum on the street asking for handouts, well, that
stuff got old, and this was better.  He was clean, and he liked it.  He
was
off the booze, and for once, he didn't miss it.  He *did* miss being
with a
woman, though, missed it badly.

It was late, nearly 7 o'clock, and Terry was still there cleaning out
wastebaskets.  Basically, he was a gofer, low man on the totem pole - if
there was a lousy job to be done in the office, he did it.  But he
didn't
mind.  It was better than life on the street.  And most of the employees
liked him.

"Damn, Elizabeth!  What are we supposed to do?" his boss yelled into the
phone.  He was talking to his wife, and seldom did he adopt that tone
with
her.  Mr. Johnson was all decked out in coat and tails - black tie. 
"Can't
you get someone else?" An inaudible response.  "Well, isn't he old
enough
that ...?"  A long pause - Mr. Johnson was getting a bit of his own back
from
his wife.  "I'm sorry, dear, I understand, but I can't miss this dinner,
you
know that."  More talking.  Mr. Johnson glanced at Terry, who carried
the
wastebasket bag out of the room.  "I'll call you back," he heard his
boss
say, as he hung up the phone.

He needn't have left.  "Terry!" the boss shouted to the underling, who
was
in the next room.  He ran right in, anxious to help the man who pulled
him
out of the gutter.

"Terry, I need a big favor.  It's not part of your normal work, so
you'll be
paid extra for it."  He paused.  "How are you with kids?"

"I have six younger brothers, sir.  It's been a while, but I think I
still
get along with them pretty well."

"Good.  My wife and I need a babysitter for tonight.  Can you do it?"

"Sure," Terry said.  He owed the man everything and would have said the
same
if asked to jump over a cliff.

Mr. Johnson sighed with relief.  "All right, then, you go get cleaned
up,
and you'll come home with me."  He looked at his watch.  "Hurry up. 
God,
how are we going to make the awards banquet now?" he muttered to
himself.

Terry went into the washroom and cleaned his face and hands (stained
with
ink from fixing the copier), combed his hair, and came back out.  Mr.
Johnson looked at the stained coveralls.  Mrs. Johnson would never go
along.
"We'll go by your room on the way.  You have some clean clothes, don't
you?"
Terry nodded.

They took the elevator together down to the garage and got in Johnson's
Town
Car.  Terry got in back.  Johnson drove the car like a Ferrari, ignoring
stop signs, running through lights.  He passed everyone.  Soon, they
were at
Terry's rooming house, having miraculously avoided a ticket.  "Just get
some
clothes and bring them down here, you can get dressed in back," the man
said.  Terry did so.  They drove off at the same mad pace.  Somehow, he
managed to get dressed in a semi-respectable uniform of slacks and golf
shirt.  (The open stretch on the freeway helped greatly.)

"All right, you come in with me."  They started for the door.  There was
a
light drizzle coming down.  Mrs. Johnson met them halfway.

"All right, Elaine, let's go," Mr. Johnson said, pulling his wife away.

"Take good care of Eddie," Mrs. Johnson called out.

"He will, dear, now let's get moving," Johnson said, practically pushing
her
into the car, then driving off at full speed.

Terry was thus unceremoniously left on the lawn of the Johnson estate. 
He
walked in through the open front door, then closed it behind him. 
"Eddie?"
he called out.

"In here," a small voice answered.  Following the voice, Terry found a
boy
of about ten in a school uniform, eating ice cream from a gallon
container.

"Go get your pajamas on," the man said, taking the ice cream.

"Hey!"

"You can have this back when you're ready for bed," Terry insisted.

Eddie walked off unhappily but came back quick as a wink, wearing some
very
brief briefs.

"Go put your pajamas on," Terry said.

"This is what I wear," Eddie said.  Terry shook his head and sat down.
Eddie got a blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around
himself,
then lay on the floor.  Terry got up, and, good as his word, got a bowl
from
the cupboard and put ice cream in it.

Eddie curled up in an overstuffed chair eating the ice cream, the
blanket
wrapped around his shoulders and covering his torso, but leaving his
legs
bare.  Terry sat back to watch the game show, but his eyes kept moving
back
to those legs.  "Smooth like a woman's," he thought.  His next thought
was,
"God, it's been *way* too long since I had sex."

The doorbell rang, and Terry went to get it.  A boy of about 15 was
standing
there, soaking wet.  "Damn!" he said, and walked in.  Terry closed the
door
and stared.

Eddie came running in.  "Johnny!" he yelled, and threw his arms around
the
older boy.  Johnny hugged him back.

"Where are mom and dad?" the older boy asked.

"They went out."

"As usual," Johnny said with disgust.  "Forgot to even pick me up at the
airport.  Where's Susan?"

"I dunno.  We got him."  Eddie held out his arm and pointed at Terry. 
The
blanket fell to the floor.  Eddie bent over and picked it up, wrapping
it
around himself again.

Johnny looked Terry over.  "Hi, I'm Terry, and you must be Johnny."  He
held
out his hand.

The older boy took it.  "I like to be called John," he said.  "Only my
little brother calls me Johnny."

"Well, go get out of those wet clothes and put your pajamas on."

John walked off.  Terry and Eddie walked back into the living room. 
Terry
sat down, and, to his surprise, Eddie climbed into his lap.  The man
draped
the blanket over the two of them.

John walked in wearing a set of cotton pajamas.  He went over to the
chair
where Eddie had been sitting before and started clicking through the
channels on TV.  "Hey!  I was watching that!" Eddie said.

"John, put it back till the show's over," Terry said.  "We can watch
something different later on."

"He doesn't care, he's got another game he's playing," John said,
obeying
anyway.  Eddie just giggled; he snuggled closer to Terry.

They watched the show, one of those idiotic sitcoms that just seem to
blend
together.  John kept looking over at Terry and Eddie, shaking his head. 
He
pulled one leg up and set his chin upon it, weaving his fingers over his
ankle.

The commercial came, and Eddie announced that he had to go to the
bathroom.

John watched Eddie walk off with a mixture of disbelief and unfocused
resentment.  "Like a soap opera around here," said the sullen teenager.
Terry was about to ask what he meant by that but reconsidered. 
Teenagers
like to be cryptic - almost as much as they like to complain about being
misunderstood.  It was best to let it go.

Eddie was taking a while in the bathroom.  "We could watch a movie,"
John
said then, still not looking at Terry.  The boy's hand was in his lap,
but
with the raised leg, Terry couldn't see what he was doing with it.  He
seemed to be playing with himself, but that would be perfectly normal. 
The
kid was in his own home, after all, and he wasn't being obtrusive about
it.
"We have everything - we're rich, in case you didn't notice," he added
sarcastically.  "I know one Eddie likes."

"Fine with me, as long as Eddie agrees," said Terry.  "Not a very long
one,
though - he can't stay up too late."

John smiled humorlessly.  "He won't.  He likes going to bed."  The boy
walked over to a large antique cabinet and opened the doors.  The
cabinet
was filled with video tapes.  John reached up and pulled one out, then
shook
his head and put it back.  He looked on the bottom shelf and found the
movie.  "Never puts things back in the right place," he said.  John
brought
the movie over and started to put it in the VCR.

"Wait, let me see that," Terry said.  John shrugged and brought the
movie
over.  It was "Terminator 2."

Terry had seen it; it seemed awfully violent for a ten-year-old.  "Are
you
sure he likes this?  Won't it scare him?"

"He likes being scared."  The man didn't seem convinced.  "He's seen it
hundreds of times, and he's not gonna have bad dreams or anything.  Our
Dad
watches it with him."  The teenager smiled strangely.

"All right, then," Terry said.  It was a good movie, he remembered,
better
than the original "Terminator," and he didn't mind watching it again.

John put the movie in.  "He never rewinds it, either," he said, still
smiling oddly.  The boy put the movie on rewind and resumed his earlier
position in the chair, with one knee up, holding his ankle with one
hand.
The other was on the arm of the chair.

Eddie came back then, walking quickly, his face obviously scrubbed, a
bead
of water running down his leg.  He hadn't been gone long enough to
bathe,
but clearly he had cleaned up some.

"We decided to watch a movie," John said.

"What movie?" Eddie replied skeptically, stopping in the middle of the
room.

"Your favorite movie," his older brother answered.  Eddie looked
alarmed.
"No, not *those* movies," John corrected; Eddie calmed down. 
"'Terminator
2.'"

"Yay!" Eddie exclaimed.  He looked at the screen.  "So where is it?"

"You didn't rewind it last time, dummy," his brother replied.

"I was busy," Eddie replied.

"I *know*," John answered meaningfully.

Terry felt totally left out of this.  He looked at the empty ice-cream
bowl
and decided to make himself useful by carrying it out to the kitchen. 
Eddie
stopped him, taking it from his hand.  "I'll do it," he said.  The boy
smelled of cologne.  Eddie ran off to the kitchen.

"Don't get any more, you've had enough," Terry called out.  There was no
reply.

The tape stopped rewinding.  John clicked the VCR off with the remote.
"He's cute, isn't he?" the teenager asked.

"Yes, he is," Terry replied.  The boys didn't seem to get along, but he
was
glad to know there was some affection underneath.  Of course, judging
from
the greeting John had gotten at the door, there could be little doubt
about
Eddie's affection.

"Dad thinks so, too, when he's home," John answered, once more sullen. 
"He
isn't home much, though - always involved with his business."

"I'm sure he loves you very much," Terry said formulaically.

"Yeah, right," John replied sarcastically.  "You just be good to
Eddie."  He
paused, looking at Terry's face.  He decided the message hadn't sunk in.
"Did you smell him?"

Terry looked at the older boy.  "Yes, I did," he said.

"He puts that on for Dad," John said, raising his eyebrows as if that
should
make everything obvious.

Just then, Eddie came back in.  Terry opened up the blanket and held out
his
arms.  Eddie laughed and jumped back in the man's lap.  Terry bent
forward
in exaggerated pain and wrapped the blanket, and his arms, around the
boy.
Eddie giggled.  John smiled and started the movie with the remote.

As the opening credits rolled, Terry smelled the boy's cologne.  He
hadn't
used a lot, and it wasn't overpowering.  It was musk, but not strong,
with a
floral scent underneath, and a hint of that "springtime" scent that the
perfumers has recently perfected.  It was a woman's cologne, and it
seemed
to belong on a tall, sultry woman, sipping wine in a dark nightclub.  To
Terry, who had not had a woman in over six years, it was totally
enchanting.
If any woman at the office wore that, I'd stretch her over the desk and
take
her right there, he thought.  Terry realized, ashamed, that he was hard
as a
rock, and moved Eddie forward toward his knee while he arranged a fold
of
the blanket so that Eddie wouldn't feel the hardon.  Eddie moved back
against him.  Terry noticed that John was looking at him and Eddie, not
the
movie.  A slight smile was on the older boy's face.  His hand was in his
lap.

The opening scene began, with Arnold Schwartzenegger landing naked in an
alley, lightning bolts flashing everywhere.  Eddie's eyes were as big as
saucers.

Eddie put his arms around Terry's neck and held him tight.  The movie
progressed.  Arnold walked into the bar, naked as the day he was born.
Eddie stared.  Arnold demanded a biker's clothes.  Eddie looked away
from
the screen, hiding his face in Terry's chest, as the fight ensued. 
Terry
stroked the boy's hair.  He glanced at John, who was staring at Terry,
smiling.

Eddie lightened up as the movie progressed.  Every time the evil
terminator
came on, he grabbed Terry's neck so tight the man almost choked.  When
the
evil terminator seemed to be injured, as in the scene at the nightclub,
Eddie jumped up and down.  When the boy appeared, Eddie watched with
avid
interest.  He seemed particularly interested in the scenes where the boy
and
the good terminator were together.

John moved over and sat on the couch next to the two.  As before, he was
watching them rather than the movie.  When the motorcycle chase began,
John
whispered in Terry's ear:  "You better hold him real tight now, he gets
real
scared by this part."  Terry, still looking at the screen (it *is* a
very
good movie, after all), put his arms tightly around Eddie.  "No, *under*
the
blanket," John whispered urgently, exasperated.  "You have to make him
feel
like *you're* the good terminator."  Terry looked at John then, and
seeing
the urgent look on his face, decided to comply.  Evidently, this was
some
kind of ritual in the house.

Terry held Eddie tightly under the blanket as he jumped and twisted. 
Terry
was still hard; the movie, exciting as it was, could not divert
attention
away from the enticing smell of the cologne, now mixed with the sweat of
both man and boy (Terry's unscented antiperspirant had begun to wear
off).
At the same time, Eddie's movements emphasized his presence in a way
that
was both embarrassing and very sensual - the boy's arm, at times, seemed
to
be that of the tall, sultry woman in the nightclub, and his breath
seemed to
be hers.  She/he seemed to be very frightened, and Terry wanted to
protect
him/her - it was all very confusing.  The man noticed that John was
playing
with himself in earnest, not bothering to hide it, neither to hide the
fact
that he was staring, but not at the movie.

When Arnold lifted the boy off the motorcycle by his pants and put him
in
front of him, Eddie cried, "Save him!"  John laughed.  Eddie jumped up
and
sat back down in Terry's lap, facing forward with his legs wide apart,
as if
they were riding the motorcycle together.  The bit of blanket in front
of
Terry's erection was pushed aside in the process, and Eddie pushed his
butt
back against it, as if they were sharing a motorcycle seat.  By this
time,
Terry had stopped watching the movie as well, looking in amazement at
the
boy in his lap.  Eddie grabbed Terry's arm and pulled it across his
chest.
Terry responded by holding the boy tight with that arm, putting the
other on
his knee.

When Arnold and friends got to the smelter and the boy ran and hid,
Eddie
pulled the blanket over his head and hid in Terry's lap; Terry felt the
boy's breath through his slacks and shirt.  John laughed again.  From
time
to time, Eddie would peek out to see what was going on.  When the boy in
the
movie appeared again, Eddie put his head out and watched, holding
Terry's
neck again so as almost to choke him.  When the final climactic scene
came
and the evil terminator died, Eddie threw the blanket off, jumped up and
cheered, dancing around the room.  Terry watched in amazement, not at
first
noticing John, who was smiling broadly.  John glanced meaningfully at
the
man's crotch, where the hardon, through the thin slacks, was
unmistakeable.

"Eddie needs to go to bed now, it's past his bedtime," John said.


Terminator  Part 2

Terry looked at his watch; it was indeed nearing 11 o'clock, and a boy
Eddie's age should not be up, even though it was a Friday night and no
school tomorrow.  "Your brother's right, Eddie," Terry said, trying to
sound
authoritative in spite of the massive hardon he was sporting, visible to
everyone in the room.  "Go on up to bed now."

"I'm ascared of the dark," Eddie said.

"Yeah, he is," John said.  "You better take him upstairs."  John was
stroking in earnest.

Terry didn't think he should see that and didn't think that John would
do it
if his parents were home, but couldn't find the words to say anything
about
it.  He took Eddie's hand and took the boy upstairs.  They walked down a
long hallway.  Terry looked for a light switch but didn't find one. 
"It's
okay," Eddie said, "it's not much farther."

They got to the room, fortunately well-lit by a nearly full moon hanging
in
the window.  There was only one bed, Terry remarked to himself, but then
remembered that these people were rich, as John has said, and each boy
would
surely have a room to himself.  Terry pulled back the sheets and fluffed
the
pillow, and Eddie jumped in, smiling.  Terry tucked the boy in and
smoothed
his forehead.  "G'night," he said.

"Aren't you gonna get in with me?" Eddie asked.

"Why, are you still scared of the dark?"

"No," Eddie said disgustedly, rolling over on his side, facing away from
Terry.

Terry went back downstairs.  John stared at him, speechless.  The older
boy's cock was as hard as his own.  "What ... what are you doing back
down
here?" John demanded.

"I put him to bed," Terry said, surprised.

"Didn't he want you to stay?" John asked, dumbfounded.

"No ..."

"Didn't he ask you to get in bed with him?" John said, angrily.

"Well, yes, but he said he wasn't scared of the dark any more," Terry
replied.  He wanted very much to get this other kid out of here too, up
to
bed.  This was all getting *way* too weird.

John got up and paced the room.  "I told you to be good to him!" he
snarled.

"I was good to him," Terry said placatingly, waiting for the teenage
tempest
to subside.

"No, you weren't!  You work for my Dad, right?  What do you think will
happen if I tell him you were mean to Eddie?"

Terry felt a pang of fear in his gut.  "What did I do that was mean to
Eddie?" he asked.

"He wanted you to get in bed with him!  What do you think?!" John
yelled,
then quieted himself, remembering Eddie upstairs.  Given the size of the
house, the younger boy might not have heard, but he didn't want to take
a
chance.

"John," the man said reasonably, "he asked me to get in bed with him.  I
asked him if he was still afraid of the dark, and he said no.  Maybe
he's
ready to go to sleep by himself now."

John looked at Terry as if he wanted to kill him, then shook his head
and
sat down.  He then looked back at the man, with something that looked
like
pity.  He spoke softly and simply, as if he were explaining war to an
infant.

"Eddie likes you," the teenager said.  "Why do you think he wore those
underwear?  Why do you think he put on that cologne?"  His voice rose in
disgust.  "I *told* you he only put that on for Dad."

Terry was about to answer, but John's face said he'd better keep quiet. 
"So
why do you think he puts in on for Dad, huh?  His Dad - *our* Dad -
doesn't
care if we live or die.  His *business* is more important."  The word
came
out as if it were an obscenity.

John paused, not knowing how to say what he wanted to, nor knowing
whether
he really wanted to say it.  "Eddie puts on his cologne, and he sits in
Dad's lap, and Dad suddenly notices him.  'Cause Mom never notices Dad,
she's having it on with the gardener, and anything else that has a
prick.
And God knows who Dad sleeps with, but it's sure not Mom."

"John, you shouldn't talk about your parents that way."

"Well, it's *true*.  That's all they care about, that and money and
being
popular."

"I'm sorry," Terry said sincerely.  "I hope you realize all parents
aren't
like that."

"Well, you can bet I won't be," John replied, calming down somewhat. 
"But
you got to go back up there!  He thinks you don't want him!"  The boy
pointed
at Terry's cock, which was still hard.  "And I know you do," he said.

"So what do I do?" Terry said, suddenly feeling like he was a bum on the
street again, being ordered on some errand.

"Just get in bed with him and tell him he's okay," John said, tears
rolling
down his cheeks.  He tried to be stern.  "I'll tell you when our parents
are
coming, but they won't care anyway."  The tears were falling faster.

That made up Terry's mind.  He started up the stairs.  "You want to
come?"
he asked.

John sniffed, trying to look brave, looking instead like a little boy
trying
to look brave.  He seemed younger than his fifteen years.  "I have to
stay
here and watch," he said.

Terry went back up the stairs and found Eddie's room.  The boy was
whispering, maybe praying, but the man couldn't tell.  Terry walked in
and
sat on the edge of the bed, with Eddie's back turned to him.  "Eddie, I
came
to see if you're all right."  Eddie didn't answer.  "I know you're
awake, I
heard you when I came in."

"So?" the little boy answered.

"So, maybe you want me to stay with you awhile before you go to sleep." 
He
paused.  "You want me to get in bed with you?"

Eddie turned around.  He had obviously been crying too; his tears
glistened
in the moonlight.  "Like the terminator?" he asked.

Terry smiled in spite of himself.  He was no terminator, surely, but one
of
the first purchases he had made when he got the job with Mr. Johnson was
a
weight set.  He had gotten rid of the drunkard's paunch and put on some
good
bulk on his arms and chest.  He feared that his legs weren't so great.
"Yeah, like the good terminator."

"Okay," Eddie said, putting his head in his hand.  "You got to take your
clothes off first."

Terry wondered at that.  "All of 'em?" he asked.

"Yeah, like the terminator in the movie."

The man didn't know what to do.  Of course, it was obvious what to do -
tell
the kid "no" and leave.  But he didn't.  He couldn't look in those eyes,
glistening with tears in the moonlight, and say no.  He was still
inhaling
the fragrance of the cologne, which seemed at that time to be the most
enticing thing he had ever smelled.

"Just for a little while," the boy said.

Terry took his shoes off, then his socks.  He pulled the golf shirt,
soaked
with sweat thought it was scarcely hot in the house, over his head.  He
looked down at the boy, who was looking up at him.  He undid his belt
and
took his slacks off.  Suddenly he felt self-conscious.  He got in bed
and
pulled his boxers off under the covers.  He felt horribly guilty and
wouldn't have minded had Mr. Johnson walked in then and shot him.  At
the
same time, he inhaled the boy's wonderful scent, learning with each
breath
to extract it from the intoxicating cologne and the smell of his own
nervous
sweat - and he wanted nothing more that to be the way he was, where he
was.

Eddie turned around and pushed back against Terry.  The boy still had
the
little briefs on.  "You got to take my underwear off," Eddie said. 
"Haven't
you played the terminator game before?"

"No, I haven't," Terry answered honestly, but he didn't mind pulling the
briefs down under the covers.  His mind went back to the little butt
dancing
on his thigh.  He took them down with shaking hands, savoring the touch
as
he moved over the boy's smooth hips.  He imagined himself with the woman
in
the nightclub, pulling her panties off.  He took the boy's briefs down
to
his knees, then kicked them off with a foot.

Eddie turned around and kissed him.  Terry wondered that it seemed more
tender than any he had ever received from a woman.  The boy reached
under
the bed and pulled out a jar.  "Now I got to put this on your thing," he
said, undoing the jar with some difficulty.

Without warning, Eddie dove beneath the covers and grabbed Terry's cock.
The boy expertly applied the lubricant, starting at the base, moving up
to
the tip.  "Daddy calls this stuff 'terminator jelly,'" the boy said,
reappearing from beneath the covers.  He handed the jar to the man, then
turned around.  "Now you put it on my butt," he said.

Terry, wondering, stuck a finger in the stuff, then reached down with
the
other hand and grabbed Eddie's cheek.  He smeared the jelly all around
the
boy's hole.  "You got to put some inside too," Eddie said.  "The
terminator
might hurt the boy if you don't," he added, with authority.

"Yeah, kid," Terry said huskily.  He took a big gob on his finger, and
spreading the boy's cheeks with the other hand, stuck it in.  He moved
the
finger around inside, lubricating the canal well.  The cologne was
really
getting to him; it seemed as if he were inhaling pure sex with each
breath.
At the same time, the woman of his dreams was fading away; the boy
himself
was a growing presence.  Eddie murmured quietly, stroking the pillow as
the
man explored him.

"Now you ..." Eddie began.

"Right kid, I know what to do now," Terry said, putting his hand on the
boy's smooth little hip, the head of his cock up against the waiting
hole.

"Hold me like the terminator," Eddie said, taking the man's arm and
pulling
it across his chest.  Terry was only too eager to oblige, snaking his
other
hand (the one wet with jelly) underneath the boy and holding him tight
with
both arms.

"Fuck yeah," said Terry, to no one in particular, as he shoved the head
of
his cock into the hole.  Eddie winced.  "I'm the terminator, kid, and
your
ass is mine," the man declared.

"You're the terminator," Eddie said, breathing fast.

"Fuckin' 'a', and I love your little ass," the man said, pushing in
farther.

"Yeah, now you ..." Eddie started.

"I'm the terminator, I do what *I* want," Terry replied.  He emphasized
it
by pushing in further.  Eddie groaned.  "Tell me how much you love my
cock
in your ass, little boy.  My cock, deep in your little ass."  Through
the
sexual haze, Terry realized that his was the biggest cock the boy had
taken
- at 8", he was the biggest cock many of the whores he had had, had
taken.
It satisfied him all the more.

"I love your cock in my ass, terminator," Eddie said, suddenly feeling
overwhelmed.

Terry took his own pillow and in one hand and put it over Eddie's face -
not
hard, but so as to muffle the scream that came when he shoved his full
length into the Eddie's butt.  "I'm the terminator, Eddie," the man
said,
"and my cock is deep inside you.  You can't do anything, 'cause I'm the
terminator."

"You're the terminator," Eddie repeated, his eyes closed.

Terry pulled out partway and turned the boy on his back.  He pushed the
little legs back in the ultimate gesture of submission, then pushed back
in
again.  "Look at me," he said.

Eddie opened his eyes, seeing the man's face, ruthless with lust. 
"You're
the *real* terminator," the boy said, his eyes wide.

"Yeah, I'm the real terminator," Terry said, pulling out and shoving in
to
emphasize the point.  He could have cum many times before now, but the
feeling of dominance, for a man who had been down so long, was almost
better
than the sex.  The boss's kid.

"Put your power in me," Eddie said.

"I don't know," the man said, beginning to move in and out slowly. 
"Maybe I
could put the power in some other kid, and *he* would grow up and save
the
world."

"Me!" Eddie said, in obvious pain that he was trying to hide.  "Do it to
me!"

"If a kid deserved it, he would tell me how he loved my cock, how he
loved
it more than anything.  He would beg me for my terminator spunk, to make
him
powerful.  Maybe you're the wrong boy."  Terry continued to push all the
way
in, then pull all the way out, slowly.

"I'm not the wrong boy!" Eddie exclaimed, moving on the mattress under
the
man.  "I love your cock, more than anything."

"Maybe ..." Terry replied, moving a little faster.

"Please give me your stuff!"  The word evaded the boy momentarily. 
"Please
let me have your spunk!"  A tear rolling down Eddie's cheek sealed the
deal.
"Please?"

"No problem," Terry said, "here it comes up your little boyhole."  He
sped
up to a frantic pace and came within a few seconds.  He buried himself
as
deep as he could get and came seemingly by the gallon.  Eddie winced as
the
cum flowed into him.  Terry noticed, however, that his little cock was
hard.

Terry kissed the boy on the lips, his softening cock still inside. 
"You're
the terminator's boy now.  You're my little boypunk."

There was running up the stairs.  "Hurry, they're home!" John whispered
loudly from the doorway.

Terry and Eddie didn't seem to notice.  "Now I can save the world," said
Eddie.

"You can do whatever you want to do, kid," Terry answered.  "You got my
power in you."

"Hurry!" John said, anxiously.

He needn't have worried.  Mrs. Johnson was dead drunk, as she often was,
and
Mr. Johnson, though he no longer loved her, felt duty-bound to take her
to
her bedroom in another wing of the house.  By the time he got back,
Terry
was fully dressed and waiting in the living room.

"Ah, Terry, glad to see you," Mr. Johnson said, slightly less drunk than
his
wife.  "Where were you when we got home?"

"I was just up checking on Eddie," Terry replied.

"V-very good," the old man answered, steadying himself on the chair
where
Eddie had been eating ice cream.  "I knew I could count on you."  He
fumbled
for his wallet, then pulled out two hundred-dollar bills, handing them
drunkenly to Terry.  "Thanksss a lot, you really helped us out," he
said.

Terry thanked him, took the money and walked out.  It was a long way to
the
nearest phone booth where he could call a cab at that time of night, but
he
wasn't worried.  He was the terminator.

THE END