Cutter09

Troy of Helen

The challenge was to write a short story which must include all the following items:

1. Location: The story should be taking place in the Alps.
2. Activity: Climbing
3. Object: A Wooden Horse.

My wife lost her long battle with cancer, leaving my son and I alone.

Troy is a good boy, tall for his age of 13, and a kind disposition. Like most fathers, I spent too much time at work when he was younger, and the last year or so, I was busy caring for my wife.

After her death, I discovered I hardly knew him. I mean, I knew him, but I didn't know the boy inside. I didn't even know his favorite color or what he thought about the latest sci-fi thriller.

Though I was still relatively young, I decided not to date or anything till I had Troy grown. You see, women and children take up the same two commodities, time and money. As of right then, all my time and money was dedicated to my son. Women would just have to wait to get some of me.

Helen was from Switzerland and near her death she told me she wanted to be cremated and her ashes spread among the Alps. Having no living relatives there, it fell on my shoulders to carry out her last wishes.

I was looking into it one day when Troy asked what I was doing. I explained his mother's last request and how I was trying to make it so.

"Why don't we do it, Dad?"

"Do what, Troy?"

"We should spread her ashes. We can take a trip there, climb the mountain and do it."

Kids always make things sound easy. "Son, I don't know anything about mountain climbing, except that it is dangerous."

"We can take a course in it, most guides require it anyway. Sort of like scuba diving. You have to learn how, get certified, then you can scuba."

"I don't know Troy. It doesn't really appeal to me."

"Ah come on, Dad. It will do us some good to get away from here for awhile. I can't remember when you and I had a trip together. A real father son vacation. It will be a chance for us to reconnect."

Kids really know what buttons to push, don't they.

We located a climbing school, and spent a grueling week learning the ropes (pun intended). I found a guide that did personal expeditions. Since this was about spreading her ashes, I didn't want a large group of people horning in on our grief.

Jean Luc was an experienced guide, and assured me he would handle everything on his end. Equipment, supplies, he even had private huts lined up for us to stay in.

Troy said goodbye to Becky, the girl next door, and girlfriend since first grade. She was tearful, saying she was worried about the trip. I left them alone for a while so he could reassure her of his undying love for her and our safe return shortly.

We flew to Geneva, and then two trains and a gondola later, we were in Vermatt. A small village near the Italian border. It is very picturesque, just as you would expect a village in the Alps to be.

Jean Luc met us and showed us to our hotel, where we were to spend the night and get an early start the next day. Our room was very nice, as it should be for what they charge, and we had an excellent dinner in their restaurant.

We were exhausted after our long trip. I let Troy take his shower first, while I perused the travel brochure in our room. It took forever for Troy to reappear wrapped in a towel. I noticed how he had grown recently. The long coltish legs, with a slight dusting of fine hair on them. Washboard stomach and rather broad shoulders. No other hair was visible on him, and I couldn't help but wonder if he had started growing pubes.

Why was I thinking that? Surely he was still too young. Or was that why he took so long in the shower. Did he stroke one out in the shower? I glanced at his crotch and saw a bulge there. It moved about as he toweled his hair and tried to get water out of his ear.

I quickly jumped into the shower to wash these thoughts from my head. I am just a father wondering about my son's healthy development. That's all, just being a father.

Troy was already in bed and asleep when I returned, so I doused the lights and crawled into bed for a much needed rest.

The alarm was my next foray into the conscious world. Troy jumped up and headed to the bathroom, rubbing his eyes as he went. I was instantly awake when I saw his tight white undies, complete with morning wood. My questions about his development were answered. I couldn't see it in the flesh, but it sure filled out those briefs, poking up and to the right a little.

I got into the hotel supplied robe so that Troy wouldn't be confronted by my own morning wood.

At breakfast I noticed how much Troy resembled his mother. The blond hair, sky blue eyes, light complexion, all combined to make one great looking boy. Why do I have an erection?

"What's wrong, Dad?" Troy asked when he saw me staring at him.

"Oh… uh… nothing son. Just thinking about your mom."

"I know what you mean. It's been five months now, and I still think she is going to show up any minute. Sometimes at home, I can still see her asleep in her recliner with her hand tucked under her chin. I even catch myself turning down the tv so mom won't yell about it being too loud. Then I remember she isn't there to yell at me."

I saw tears forming in his eyes as he reminisced. I couldn't help but get a little choked up too.

Jean Luc arrived and laid out his plan for our trip. He had 'climber's huts' along a little used trail. He said he knew of the perfect spot for our last goodbyes to Helen. We would take three days up and two back. It wouldn't really take that long, so we would have lots of time to enjoy the mountain scenery. He proceeded to strap backpacks on us, mine weighed a ton. Thankfully Troy's was smaller and probably weighed less than half of what mine did.

We headed up the mountain, and I was surprised at how many people were hiking with us. Dozens of people in small groups with their guides. I hadn't realized how popular climbing had become. At one point, we veered left, and the other's veered right.

Jean Luc explained they were headed to Hornli Hut. A very crowded place for climbers, more of a tourist attraction than an actual mountain climbing experience.

We hiked along for another two hours before coming to our first wall of rock. I looked up, and that was a mistake. I thought 'There is no way in hell I'm going to make that.' Jean Luc removed ropes and hooks and other stuff from his pack.

He went first, hooking loops and rope onto spikes that were already in place. Occasionally hammering a new spike, and making slow progress up. Troy followed him, and I followed Troy. Thank God Jean Luc knew what he was doing, and we managed to make the climb. When we reach the top of the wall, I looked down. Another mistake. It was probably a hundred feet [30 m] sheer drop to where we had started the climb. I took a few pictures, mostly of Troy, and then we continued our trek.

By mid afternoon, we reached the first hut. It really is just a hut. Maybe fifteen feet by twenty feet [5 x 6 m]. Most of it taken up by a bunk bed, table, and fireplace. Jean Luc got the fire going then went out. Troy and I warmed ourselves by the fire, and took off our thick outerwear. Jean Luc returned with more wood. He explained that he always replaced the wood so it could dry out by the time it was needed. He also replaced can foods and such so there was always some leftover. He had built the hut over the course of a year, making many trips back and forth.

He took a couple of buckets and left again, returning with snow in the buckets which he heated over the fire. He then poured the water into a barrel, then repeated the process. Soon he had the barrel full and a bucket of water left over. He stripped and started washing his body unembarrassingly. I couldn't help but notice his ample appendage, and so did Troy.

I didn't want to seem like I was staring at him, so I picked up a rather small log and pulled out my pocket knife. My grandfather used to whittle and I watched him as a child. It always amazed me how he could take a chunk of wood and turn it into something beautiful.

I started by shaving off the bark. I had no idea where it was going but it kept me occupied. I would glance up at Jean Luc, then at his swinging dick. Then at Troy, who was also trying to appear uninterested in the spectacle.

When he finished his bathing, Jean Luc handed Troy a bucket of warm water for his own bath. Then he started making dinner.

Troy didn't want to appear to not be 'one of the guys', and started removing his clothes. He turned his back to Jean Luc, giving me a full profile. Removing his pants revealed his tented underwear. He looked over at me, and my attention was immediately back on my whittling. Then he pulled down those restrictive undies, and a very handsome four and a half inch [11 cm] hard on sprang forth.

I was instantly reminded of a friend of mine, back at that age. We had fooled around a little during sleepovers. Troy's dick was about the same size and, I noticed, had just a small patch of whispies, like my friend.

Seeing Troy in all his glory made me realize again, just how truly beautiful he is. Those long, coltish legs decided for me what I was whittling. I'm really not much of an artist, but I drank in every detail of every sinewy muscle on Troy's legs.

Jean Luc hadn't bothered to redress. When I looked over at him, he was absentmindedly stirring the pot in the fireplace. His eyes were glued to Troy's ass though. I watched as his cock began to rise. I really couldn't blame him. From the back, Troy could have been female or male, and his ass was quite enticing. My own cock was also hard, I'm ashamed to say.

I cleared my throat in that overdone way that gets people's attention. Jean Luc looked at me, shrugged his shoulders, and turned back to his cooking.

Troy had finished his bathing and was struggling to pull his underwear up over his still very hard dick. I realized it was my turn now.

Jean Luc tapped his wooden spoon on the edge of the pot, and then handed me a bucket of water. I didn't have any choice, really. I removed my clothes and when I got down to my boxers, a glance at Troy told me he wanted to see the rest. I figured that it wouldn't do Troy any harm to find out he wasn't the only one with an erection. I removed my shorts and let my six and a half inches [16 cm] out proudly.

Like Troy, I kept my back to Jean Luc. No reason to let him know I was horned up. Troy on the other hand, I didn't mind knowing.

Once dinner was cooking, Jean Luc did finally dress. Troy went out to take more pictures and I whittled. My mind drifting to seeing Troy, and to the times I spent in bed with his mother. My erection reminded me that I hadn't even masturbated since she left this earth. We hadn't had sex the year before that, though I did spend a little time with some internet porn.

The stew that Jean Luc prepared was actually pretty good, or I was very hungry. I didn't recognize the meat in it, I told myself it was venison, and not squirrel or weasel or worse.

Afterward Jean Luc produced a bottle of vodka, and a pipe with a long neck and a big bowl, that could have belonged to Sherlock Holmes. I found the sweet, heady, tobacco aroma to be quite relaxing. I had a shot of vodka with him, and even allowed Troy a small amount. We both laughed as Jean Luc said, "It'll put hair on your wee bits."

I was soon ready for sleep, and Jean Luc said he preferred the floor, so Troy took the top bunk and I the bottom. My dreams were filled with visions of the time with my friend. Our innocent experimenting remains a fond memory. In my dream his hand was around my pubescent dick, as I stroked his. I turned my head to look at him and was shocked to see Troy's face.

I bolted awake, and shook my head. I had to get these thoughts out. I can't do those things with my own son.

The next day was a repeat of the first, only more climbing and less hiking. The weather didn't help much either, with a constant wind and light snow flurries. Even Jean Luc seemed bothered by the wind. But we managed to stay the course and made it to the next hut before dark.

This time though, Jean Luc broke out the vodka first thing. Then started dinner. Wash up time was much the same as well. Except it was Jean Luc with the full mast hard on to start with. Troy stared in awe at what had to be a nine or ten incher [23-25 cm]. I have to admit, I was quite envious. I wish my own cock was like that. It would be fun to play with or to whip someone into submission with.

I whittled away as Troy did his wash up routine. Using his wonderful form as inspiration, I could finally see it taking shape. During dinner Jean Luc entertained us with stories of past expeditions. One of which included a threesome, with him and a couple he was guiding, right on the very floor beneath our feet. Pictures of him and someone's wife went through my head and straight to my dick.

That night my dreams were again of a sexual nature. This time though, I had the ten inches [25 cm] and I was plowing them into my wife doggie style. I was gripping her sweet ass and pounding her good when she turned to look at me. Damn! It was Troy again.

I couldn't wait to get off this mountain. I needed some alone time to beat my meat to death. I just knew I was going three or four rounds, non stop, as soon as I was alone.

We started out early the next morning. The wind had died down a bit, but the snow flurries had made the traveling slower and more grueling. We reached the next hut with plenty of daylight left though.

We sat at the table with a shot of vodka each, and Jean Luc said the ideal place for Helen was just over the ridge behind the hut. I said "Well let's do it now then." Troy agreed and we set off.

The ridge wasn't very high, maybe twenty five feet [7½ m], and we took it like pros. Then around a rocky outcropping we came to the most incredible sight I have ever seen. The top of the Matterhorn was right in front of us, and the view.. oh my god what a view. Majestic just doesn't cut it. Jean Luc was absolutely right. This was perfect. Helen would rest in the mountains that she loved, right in the shadow of the greatest of them all.

I retrieved the bag of Helen's ashes. Troy reached in a pulled out a handful.

"Mom, we brought you to the only place on earth as beautiful as you. I promise to take care of Dad, and study hard in school. I love you, and I will think of you every day for the rest of my life. Rest well till I see you again." He opened his hand and watched as her ashes fluttered around the Alps.

I was a complete wreck. I gathered myself and finally said "Helen. I miss you and will always love you. Don't worry about Troy, he is already a fine young man, thanks to you." My handful of ashes followed Troy's to scatter among the snowcapped mountains. I let Troy release the rest.

We stood crying in each other's arms for a few minutes. I had completely forgotten about Jean Luc. He was waiting patiently for us to be finished. I could tell he was a bit emotional too.

I started back around the rocky outcropping toward the hut. Suddenly, I lost my footing and slid right over the ridge we had climbed so expertly. Twenty five feet [7½ m] isn't all that much, unless you are falling. I landed on my leg and instantly knew it was broken. I was to soon discover a portion of bone protruding from my leg.

Troy and Jean Luc were beside me quickly. Jean Luc took charge and carried me to the shack. Once he assessed the damage he got out a first aid kit and did what he could. We decided to try to get the piece of bone back into place. It hurt like a mother fucker. He poured the remainder of his vodka on the open wound to try to kill any germs, then wrapped it in a makeshift splint.

He said it was too late to try to get out tonight, but at first light he would go alone and send back a rescue chopper. He said he could make better time without Troy, and that I might need him.

Troy was visibly shaking. He knew the severity of the situation, and he was afraid. Jean Luc gave me some Tylenol, saying it was the only pain reliever he had. I'm sure it helped, but it's sort of like trying to stop an elephant with a water pistol.

Sleep was impossible. I spent the night trying to get comfortable, and whittling to take my mind off the pain.

Troy was still asleep when I saw Jean Luc leave. He woke later and asked if I needed anything. I asked for more tylenol. There were only a few left in the small bottle, so I said I could wait a while longer. I knew it would take Jean Luc two days to reach civilization, and maybe another day before the chopper would get here, so I had to ration the pain killers.

I told Troy that it really didn't hurt all that much so I was fine.

Most of the day I whittled away at my chunk of wood. Something told me I needed to finish it. The blade of my pocket knife was starting to get dull. Fortunately at this stage I mostly used the point of the blade for the finer details.

That afternoon it started snowing pretty heavily. I hoped it didn't delay Jean Luc too much. Troy wanted to change my bandage, and I thought it a good idea. If nothing else, it made him feel like he was helping me. When he removed the bandage and splint, I could tell that infection was already starting in. I didn't mention anything to Troy, because it would do no good except to worry him.

That night I heard Troy heat some water to wash with. I pretended to be sleeping, though that was still almost impossible. I watched through slitted eyes as he bathed. When he ran the cloth over his genitals, his dick began to rise. He looked over at me to see if I was asleep, and it appeared I was.

Then I saw one of the most beautiful sights I could ever imagine. I saw this wonderful boy enjoy his own body in the way we all learn to. He slowly began to stroke his dick, then built up speed to a level he enjoyed. I wondered if he was thinking about Becky back home. All too quickly it was over, as I observed a stream of boyjuice shoot across the floor. He must have been saving it up, probably since we left home, because it was quick and voluminous. I know I didn't expel that much at that age.

He then quickly dressed and cleaned up the mess he made. Interestingly though, I didn't get hard watching. I felt more pride than lust.

I finished my sculpture that night as Troy slept. The pony stood on his hind legs, his front hooves kicking up powerfully. His head slightly bowed in determination. This the way I saw my son. A powerful young colt, ready and determined to take on the world.

In the morning when he woke I gave it to him. "It's beautiful, Dad. I didn't know you were an artist."

"Well thanks for the compliment, but I know it's rather crude at best. When we get home I will use some sandpaper on it and maybe touch it up a bit."

"No Dad, it's perfect just as it is. Thanks."

By the afternoon, my leg was throbbing even more. I inspected it, and could tell the infection was worse. Troy wanted to change the bandage again, but I wouldn't let him. He would know that it was getting worse. I explained that the chopper should be here by the next day and they would take care of it.

As darkness fell, I began to feel feverish. I knew it wasn't a good sign, but I didn't have much longer to wait. I took more tylenol and hoped it would help.

By morning Troy could tell I was very sick. We waited for the chopper to arrive. At nightfall, we knew it wasn't coming. I told Troy that with the snow we had, it probably took Jean Luc longer than expected to reach the village. Surely it would be here the next day.

That night I was in and out of consciousness. I was burning up with fever. I woke at one point to find Troy mopping my head with a cool cloth. I could see how worried he was. The next thing I remember was Troy again using a cool cloth on me. He was crying, and saying something about "I promised Mom."

That was my last, memory of that hut. Next conscious thought I had was waking in a hospital bed. I had tubes in me and my leg was in a cast. I could only assume the chopper finally arrived and saved us.

I awoke again later. I could see that it was daytime from the sun pouring into the room. A nurse was there checking my I.V. "Where's my son? Where is Troy?" She looked at me oddly then left. I thought maybe she didn't speak English. I was trying to sit up, when a doctor came in.

"No, no, no. You must stay in bed. You are far too weak to walk."

"Bull shit. Where's Troy? Is he at the hotel? Get me a phone to call him."

"Your son is here. He'll be fine. You must get back into bed."

"Troy is here? Why?"

"First you must get back into bed. He was pretty banged up, broken arm, and suffering from hypothermia. He'll be fine in a few days."

"Broken arm? Hypothermia? How? What happened?"

"He stumbled into Vermatt that way. He told them where to find you. That's a very brave son you have there. We have his core temperature up, so he should be coming around soon."

"Take me to him."

"I'm afraid…"

"I'm not asking. I said take me to him… NOW!"

They got me a wheelchair and pushed me to another room. Troy was lying in a bed, blankets covering him to his chin. He was asleep.

The way the nurse told the story, I deduced that he apparently went for help when no one came for us. He climbed down the mountain on his own. At some point he must have fallen because both the bones in his left arm were broken. He didn't stop until he reached civilization. Once he told them where to find me, he let them take him to the hospital. They sent a search party for Jean Luc, but still haven't found him.

I started crying. The nurse started crying. Damn I hate to see women cry. I hate even more crying around people. But this time was different. I cried in pride of my son. I cried for his love of me that he was willing to sacrifice himself for me. I cried because he would grow up without a mother. I cried because… ah hell, I just fucking cried.

I lay my head on his shoulder and my hand on his chest, as I cried. I silently prayed and begged God to help him.

As I lay there blubbering like a fool, I noticed something hard under my hand. I looked at the nurse questioningly.

"He had that when he came in. He wouldn't let us take it. We couldn't get it away from him even in surgery. Since he has been unconscious, we can't get it out of his grip."

I pulled back the blanket to find a rough hewn wooden pony. Which only made me cry more.

The End