J.O. Dickingson

The Gamakyr Stories

The Gamakyr

In the dark of night a shadow flows from house to house, searching, seeking, smelling. Young boys are its prey, and forbidden pleasure is its game. Beware, the Gamakyr hunts tonight.

1,800 words / 3½ pages
the Gamakyr and preteen and teenage boys (5-12yo)
b t solo? – cons mast

Eddie curls up into a tight ball, trying to make himself as small as a five-year-old can. The blinds have been drawn closed in the hope that darkness will help him fall asleep despite his pleas to keep them open. They have also closed the door to his bedroom to keep out the noise from the living room, ignoring his frightened contention that it will also keep the noise in. Oh sure, they have checked under the bed and in the closets and have assured him there are no monsters, but they do not understand that the monster can change its size and shape. It can be anything – a coat hanger, a shoe, even a toy truck.

So they leave him alone, in the dark, to wait for the monster. He knows it will come, as it always does. Eddie does not have to wait long. He feels the weight of it pressing down on the mattress. Tonight it must have hidden under the bed. He feels the mattress sink as it creeps silently toward him. Eddie clenches his eyes shut as he feels the monster slip under the bed sheets. In his mind he sees it oozing toward him as a snot-green pool of slime, jagged teeth grinning, eyeballs on stalks able to see him under the blanket in the pitch blackness.

The slime collects and forms a hand. It spreads open the opening of his p.j. bottoms. Eddie dares not move as the newly formed hand picks up his wee-wee between thumb and first two fingers and tugs on it. Five short little tugs, and then the thumb and two fingers slowly side up and down his little wee-wee, once, twice, three times. Five more tugs and three more rubs, over and over the cycle goes, just like last night and the night before than and the night before that one.

Eddie inhales nervously as he feels his wee-wee become hard. It is scarey what the monster is doing, but it feels good too, although this pleasure is unlike any other type of pleasure he has known. It is better than being tickled, or chocolate ice cream on a hot day, or the smell of a McDonald's cheeseburger. Eddie kicks off the sheets and whimpers with the ecstasy rippling through his body. When the hand stops, he jerks his hips to drive his wee-wee in and out of the monster's hand so the pleasure will continue.

Suddenly the door flies open. The monster flees into the shadows behind the bed and on up the wall and behind the curtains! The hallway light floods into the room and over the little boy with the little stiffie no bigger than his pinky finger sticking out of his p.j.'s.

"Not again," sighs the dad, but it is a funny sigh, almost as if he is glad.

Eyes still tightly closed, the boy says nothing.

"How many times have you been told it's bad?"

"But it's not me."

"Eddie!" the dad shouts, causing the son to leap. "Don't lie to me! We've been through this before."

"But honest," the son whispers, his upper lip trembling as tears begin to well up in his eyes. "It was the monster."

Sitting on the bed and taking the boy over his knee without a word, the dad draws back the p.j. bottoms and smacks the tender butt. The boy sobs, unable to explain. His little bum stings with pain, and the spank drives his hard little wee-wee against the dad's jeans, causing it to tingle and jerk with pleasure. As the spanking continues, he can feel Dad's wee-wee getting hard too. Pain and pleasure merge for father and son. Eddie does not understand what is happening, but it has happened before, and he hopes it will happen again tomorrow.

Satisfied that what it has started is unfolding the right way, the Gamakyr oozes through the screen of the open window and flows into the night. Quickly it spreads down the street. The night has begun, and it has much to do, and places to go. It keeps to the shadows as it checks each house, searching for the next boy, any boy.

***

Sam lies in his bed half awake and half asleep, floating in that drowsy twilight time when you are not sure if you are dreaming or if you can really hear the voices in the family room. It is that comfy, secure time after milk and cookies and being tucked in, when you think of the fun games you and your best buddy played today, and the games you will play tomorrow.

The familiar fingers slip into the opening of his pajamas and begin to fiddle with his thingie unnoticed. By the time he realizes the fingers have returned, his thingie is hard and sticking out of his pajamas. Sam stretches out and relaxes and smiles with the feeling. One part of his brain says he should open his eyes and see what is playing with his thingie, but the bigger, stronger part of his brain says to lie there and keep his eyes closed and just enjoy the pleasure. It is pleasure, a wonderful, exciting mysterious pleasure that is better than anything in the world.

Sam, floating in the fog of arousal, hears his door open and close. Actually, it is more a matter of being aware of it than hearing it, just as he is aware that the footsteps are those of his older brother, not anyone else.

"Hey, wank, you doing yourself again?" his brother asks as he sits on the bed.

Sam keeps his eyes closed. It is not really a question. It is a statement. He smiles. His brother has been calling him wank ever since the first time he had come in and found him laying on his bed, his thingie stiff and itchy and sticking up in the air. Of course he never called him that in front of anyone. It is their secret name.

"It wasn't me," Sam said sleepily.

"Yeah, right, I keep forgetting. It was the wank monster."

Sam giggles. His brother is twice his age, and smart.

"Well, I've got a monster too," his brother says and Sam hears his fly being pulled down. "You wanna play with my monster for a while?"

Sam reaches over and takes his private part in his hand. They have played this game before. He knows how to make his brother's thingie hard like his. He giggles as his brother takes his and begins to fiddle with it. Doing it together feels even better. It is their secret game.

The Gamakyr does not stay to watch. It knows what will happen and makes its escape out the window unnoticed. It continues down the street, staying in the shadows, avoiding the street lights. A man is walking his dog. He feels a stirring in his pants and an urge to pleasure himself as the Gamakyr passes and hurries down the street. There are too many young boys, too little time. So many young boys, so much young cock…

***

One a.m. Twelve-year-old Brett dreams about the girls in his class, first one then another, and finally of Wendy who everyone knows is hot. They kiss and hug and he opens her blouse and she has huge boobs like those he has seen in Playboy. She slides down her jeans and panties but he has never seen a pussy and in his dream it is just a blur and then becomes a hot dog bun, but it is sticking out like a dick and he knows that is not right. Irritated that his mind can't continue the dream, he tosses in his sleep and it fades away. Then there is a bunch of the guys and they all have their dicks out and they all are calling, "fuck her, fuck her" and his friend George slips his pants down and bends over and says, "fuck me."

Brett knows what an arsehole looks like and in his dream he can see it plainly. He and George kneel on the ground and he sinks his dick up George's butt. In his dream he feels the hot, wet muscle of George's ass close in on his stiff dick. In his bed the Gamakyr has wrapped about his wood bulging out his jockey briefs and squeezes and pulses. Brett sighs with pleasure and a smile passes over his ruby lips as he puddles in his underwear. The hot stickiness and the thrill of ejaculation waken him and vaguely he is aware of his wetness. He reaches down and touches the stickiness and brings it to his nose and sniffs it. It is a wonderful aroma, the aroma of life and sex. Brett thinks of his dream and wonders what it would really be like to butt-fuck George, and he drifts off to sleep with a contented smile and the hope of dreaming of George again.

The Gamakyr slips down the street as silent as the late night breeze. The smell of boy and young hot cock and fresh semen wafts through the air and in open windows. Slumbering youth breathe deeply and smile. Young cocks stir and spring to life.

***

Several houses away twelve-year-old Jimmy sleeps in the raw, sleeping the innocent sleep of youth, unaware of the shadow slipping through the shadows. The Gamakyr creeps up onto his bed and penetrates his mind. Jimmy dreams of tossing hoops with his best buddy, David, and working up a sweat. He dreams of them wrestling and trying to give each other boners, of talking about screwing and of wrestling each other to the ground and pretending to hump each other's butt.

The Gamakyr forms into a slender, twelve-year-old penis and pushes against the boy's virgin button. In his dream Jimmy opens to his best pal, his buddy, his lover. His body quivers as he feels his buddy enter him and begin to hump him. He works his asshole open and closed, groaning at the feel of the imaginary lover, groaning at the feel of the humping Gamakyr. His breath grows heavy and he squirms as he stains the sheets. The boy sighs as the pleasure and relief of the wet dream floods over him, but he does not awaken. He slumbers on and dreams of David and their love for each other.

The Gamakyr flees like the flood of the pubescent boy's wet dream, flowing over the sheets and out the house and into the streets. There are so many young boys to visit this night, so many young minds to touch, so much tender young cock to please, before the break of dawn. There are so many more flames to ignite before it can rest and renew itself for the next night…

Gamakyr Chess

The Gamakyr roams the streets in the dark of night in search of young boys and tender young cock. It is a game of chess between the Gamakyr and the many who oppose its objective, and two thirteen-year-old boys are the unaware pawns. Who will win the match?

7,000 words / 14 pages
the Gamakyr, Johnny (13yo) and Tyler (13yo)
tt – cons mast oral anal

Five-forty three. Half an hour before sunrise. Time is running short. Already the sky is turning from black to gray along the horizon. The Gamakyr hurries down the street, flowing from shadow to shadow, listening, smelling, seeking. It is a young neighbourhood full of young families in new starter homes, a neighbourhood full of young boys. For the Gamakyr, it is Paradise, if dobblegangers and boogy-men and the like are allowed to have Paradises. Time is short, but in this neighbourhood in half an hour it can still visit three more homes, touch three more minds, arouse three more little boy dicks.

A ten-speed bike leans against a garage with a basketball hoop above the door. Entering the three-bedroom bungalow through the keyhole, the Gamakyr flows down the darkened hall, attracted to the boy's bedroom like metal filings are drawn to a magnet. It flows silently across the floor and up onto the bed like a shadow, sending forward tendrils to sense the state of the deep-breathing boy. It has been a long night, with dozens of boys sparked, with dozens of dry orgasms and dozens of wet dreams initiated. The Gamakyr is saturated with the scent of dick and freshly spilt semen.

Johnny, thirteen just three months ago, subconsciously smells the scent of dick and senses the presence of the Gamakyr. A smile crosses his lips as he thinks of his best buddy, of them changing in the locker room for gym class. His little dick stirs and begins to harden. The Gamakyr begins to withdraw. It is not needed here. As it retreats from the young mind and flows across the bed, searching for the fastest way out, eager to find more minds to touch, minds that need its little nudging, it is suddenly filled with sadness and frustration that sends a weave of tension through its being.

Senses fully alert, it slowly reapproaches the slumbering boy, and as it returns the tension reduces. The boy is a sensitive, as are many who have newly entered puberty, and the Gamakyr smiles. Sensitives make its work easy. The boy had sensed its withdrawal and had cried out for help in his anguish. Slowly, carefully, it sends a tentative probe ahead, knowing it must not rush. Patience, understanding, and compassion are the allies of the Gamakyr. It is so tempting to rush in this world of technology and instant gratification where quantity becomes the goal rather than quality. Even the little Gamakyr can fall into such temptation with so many to touch, so many to help, but it is disciplined and its ways entrenched.

It probes deeper into the memory. A birthday party three months ago, the exchange of gifts, special friendships, and then deeper, to the unrequited love for a special friend at that party and the sadness that his love is unknown. The thoughts flow and weave as dreams do and the Gamakyr allows itself to be carried along. Now a junior high school locker room of teen and preteen boys in underwear, a place of sweaty boy odours and juvenile sex talk. The Gamakyr sees the boy's furtive glances at bulging underwear and dick heads peeping out of boxer flies and it senses the boy's frustration of having to be furtive and unfulfilled.

The Gamakyr slowly slips under the blankets and across the sheet. Five slender tendrils slowly extend and find and cup the soft bulge in the jockey briefs. The warmth of the boy and the warmth of the Gamakyr become one and as the tendrils gently caress the mound the boy dick stiffens and the boy stretches his legs and sighs. Having soothed the boy, the Gamakyr pushes deeper into the mind, seeking the name of that special friend that has appeared in every scene. The name comes and a further gentle probing of memories reveals his address. A sleep over, innocent but so full of one-sided desire. As the wet dream floods the boy's jockey shorts the memories if that innocent night flood through the Gamakyr. The boy and the creature satiated, the one stirs in slumber with sticky briefs while the other, too late now to escape, seeks a dark place to hide, to rejuvenate, and plan the future for Johnny and his pal Tyler. The game has been underway for several months, but the Gamakyr is a skilled player and jumps in mid-game.

Move # 26. White Bishop moves to d7. Gamakyr moves Black Queen to e3+.

Nine oh eight. The sun sets. The Gamakyr stirs. In half an hour it will be dark enough to continue its endless mission. Sprawled on his bed and reading a comic book, Johnny is unaware of the dark shape emerging from the closet and fleeing along the baseboard, escaping the room and flowing into the darkness of the night. Nine-forty. The youngest ones will have been tucked in by loving and not-so-loving parents, ready for a visit by the Gamakyr, ready to experience the world he can open up to them. New boys to initiate, former boys to reinforce, boys to encourage, boys to guide… The Gamakyr's work is never done. Thankfully, it thinks with a smile.

It is past midnight when the Gamakyr arrives at 610 Lakeland Crescent. Flowing through an open window, it slips past the master bedroom and sleeping parents, past their teenage daughter's room with a shudder, and down the stairs to the basement. It pauses and debates a second and turns to visit the older boy's room. Seventeen, tall and lanky, he is sleeping in his boxers. A mind touch and the image of a basketball game and cheerleaders and big boobs and making out springs out and the Gamakyr withdraws. The boy's teenage cock is stiff and throbbing, responding to the recurrent dream. Steeling itself, the Gamakyr cautiously advances. A careful touch of a neuron here, one there, connecting memories, and instead of Stephanie in the back seat it is Stephen. The nut is ripe and the wet dream imminent. The body twists and the mind tries to sort out the conflict as to whom the partner is as the semen rises and creams the sleeper's boxer shorts and images of Stephanie and Stephen alternate and merge.

The Gamakyr smiles impishly as it flows on to the brother's room, the prime target of the night's mission. Carefully, gently, it probes the youth's mind. Name Tyler, turned thirteen a month ago, best buddy Johnny, good student, good son, loves baseball, mathematics and astronomy. Probing, searching, boy thoughts as arousing as sex thoughts, innocent, pure, wholesome. The Gamakyr marvels at the blank slate of sexual memory, of sexual identity, waiting for the Gamakyr's imprint, a virgin in deed and in thought. Strengths and interests carefully filed and saved, it retreats, pausing to flow down and savour the innocent boy dick. So tempting to be the first wet dream of the boy's life, but no, let the first release of boy juice be for Johnny. As the soft cock hardens with the warmth of the Gamakyr, a tendril runs out to invoke the memory of Johnny and friendship.

White Knight moves to h1. Gamakyr moves Black Pawn to f2.

Then on out into the night, on to the others, and to return to Johnny in the wee hours of the morning where again there is a savouring of dick, a gentle touch of the mind with the image of a peacefully slumbering Tyler and the scent of his dick, and then off into the breaking night to rest.

The following night the Gamakyr tackles its endless duties with the enthusiasm of one who is sure of its purpose and loves its work, a joy to behold, and it visits the home at 48 Lakeland Court with eager anticipation. Curling up in the sleeping boy's warm crotch, it savours again the innocent sweat-damp flesh, and then seeks out the memories of the day. The two boys are playing chess at Johnny's house.

White Rook moves to f1. Gamakyr moves Black Pawn to d3.

"Wanna make the game more interesting?" Johnny asks the next evening.

"How?"

"For each piece a guy loses, he's gotta remove a piece of clothing." Johnny does not know how the thought came to him like that, it just seemed to be there in his head when he woke up that morning. It was a cool thought.

Tyler laughs at the idea. "Then you'll be playing butt naked in no time."

"I'll take that chance."

"You're a weirdo."

"So, you game?"

"All right, if you are." Johnny is weird, but he is his best buddy, and friends go along with friends even if they are a bit weird.

Johnny holds the white and black pawns behind his back and Tyler picks the right hand. It is the white pawn. That is all right, Tyler likes to go first. Tyler begins with his usual move of king's pawn two spaces forward. Johnny responds by moving his King's knight's pawn forward. The game progresses, Johnny losing the first piece, Queen's bishop's pawn. Then he loses the Queen's rook's pawn. Eager to see Tyler naked, he is careless. He concentrates harder on the game and Tyler's knight and two pawns are removed from the board and his shoes and a sock are removed from his body. The game continues until both boys are down to their pants and underwear. They are equally skilled and a good match. Tyler loses another pawn and his pants and then Johnny loses a pawn and his.

The boys play very carefully now, hearts beating harder and higher in their thin boy chests, but finally Tyler has no move but to lose a pawn. Blushing with embarrassment, he self-consciously pushes down and steps out of his underwear and as he drops his briefs on the floor he notices Johnny's underwear is sticking out. He has a woody! Tyler tries desperately to make him lose another piece but it is difficult to concentrate sitting there naked, knowing your best buddy is stiff and praying you won't get a hardon too, and Johnny is a good player and eventually wins the game. He wants to mention Johnny's condition, but is too embarrassed, even just to tease. The boys dress and go have a bowl of ice-cream. They feel hot and it has nothing to do with the weather.

That night at 610 Lakeland Crescent, curled comfortably in the slumbering boy's crotch, the Gamakyr retrieves the memory. Pulsing slowly, the Gamakyr feels the boy dick growing and it reinforces the vision of Johnny getting a woody along with the impression that getting a woody feels good and is a good thing. It carefully plants the idea getting a woody together would be exciting. To the Gamakyr's surprise, the boy stirs uncomfortably, objecting, and it withdraws. Now is not the time to push. Its deed done, the Gamakyr slips away and on into the night, leaving the sleeping boy with the little woody to his dreams.

White Rook moves to c3. Gamakyr moves Black Bishop to take White Bishop d7.

The next three nights the Gamakyr checks on its two boys. Persistence is necessary, and it is not an onerous chore. The strip chess game has become routine, both boys looking forward to it, both boys able to concentrate on the game now that the novelty has gone. For Tyler the stripping is forbidden but an exciting addition. For Johnny, it is a beginning of what he hopes will be much more, though in his innocence what that might involve he is not exactly sure. Fighting the temptation to speed things up, the Gamakyr absorbs the boy lust it senses each night in each bedroom and swells in contentment and throbs about the boys' swollen dicks. It knows that time and caution will win.

The fourth night as the Gamakyr settles in Tyler's groin and begins its warm pulsation, it immediately senses that something is wrong and quickly withdraws from the sleeping boy's crotch. It probes his mind slowly. It watches as Johnny and Tyler set up the chess board.

"Strip chess again?" asks Tyler.

"That's getting boring," Johnny replies.

"Yeah," Tyler agrees.

"How about something different?" Johnny asks hesitantly.

"Like what?"

"Suppose we take out our dicks and with each piece we lose we have to give our dick ten tugs?" Johnny suggests with a laugh.

"That's dirty," Tyler comments as he wrinkles his nose.

Johnny laughs nervously. "It was just a thought."

"Well, it was a filthy, dirty thought. Tugging on your dick is wrong," Tyler observes emphatically.

"Hey, it was just an idea. What's the big deal?" Johnny asks, feeling offended. He knows what guys say, but still, having something he secretly enjoys called wrong, and feeling guilty because it actually is dirty, he lashes out with anger, immediately sorry he does.

"The big deal is that playing with oneself is something only losers and perverts do."

"All right, you don't have to get so uptight."

"I'm not uptight!" Tyler shouts.

"I don't feel much like playing chess no more."

"Well that's good cause nor do I."

"I don't feel much like doing anything."

"That's fine, me neither," retorts Tyler as he gets up.

Tyler twists uncomfortably with the memory, upset over the disagreement with his best buddy, upset with his buddy's obsession with sex, his consciousness approaching the surface. Shocked by the development, the Gamakyr beats a hasty retreat and waits in the shadows. The boy is too upset to reapproach.

The next night the Gamakyr slips back into Tyler's room, relieved to hear the boy's contented, deep breathing. Ever so slowly it flows up on the bed, a dark shadow flowing among shadows as clouds pass over the full moon shining outside the window. It probes slowly, carefully, searching through the memory pods, senses alert, searching for a clue. First impression had revealed a blank canvas. At thirteen there are already millions of interconnected memories, but the Gamakyr is skilled and follows them thread by thread, delving deeper and deeper. There! Tyler at five, sitting watching cartoons Saturday morning and fiddling with his dick. He has to go pee but the cartoon is too interesting. Mom walks in, screams his name, yanks his hand away, lectures him, good boys don't touch themselves. In his defence, Tyler says he had to go pee. Mom shoves him down the hall and tells him to go then, and to be sure to wash his hands afterwards.

The Gamakyr follows the thread. Several months later the five-year-old wakes up with a pee woody and stands before the toilet fingering it in an attempt to get it to go pee and enjoying it in his half-sleep. He forgets to wash his hands and smells his pee-er on his fingers as he drifts off back to sleep.

Several other such nights follow and then a connecting thread leads to a pod of Tyler sitting at the table drawing pictures. His left hand absent-mindedly slips between his legs and fondles the little bulge that quickly grows bigger. Mom comes in and Tyler quickly withdraws his hand guiltily. Several more similar memory pods follow and more pee woodies. Now he does not wash his hands on purpose and secretly sniffs his fingers afterward as he drifts back to sleep. It is a slow process but the Gamakyr knows it must trace the path to find the root. It is tedious and slow, but it is essential and searching boy memories, living those boy memories, is a comfort and a pleasure. The sky is getting light and the Gamakyr knows it must leave. One more pod. The moment it is touched the sleeping boy twists uncomfortably. Again Tyler is at the table, crayon in his right hand, woody in his left. This time he does not see Mom come in.

"Tyler Brant!"

Tyler jerks his hand away in fright and practically leaps out of his chair.

"How many times have you been told not to do that!" Tyler looks up helplessly as he blushes with shame. "Touching yourself there is dirty! You are never, never to touch that filthy little thing! Can't you understand it is unclean, and so are you touching it? You are a filthy, dirty boy!" His mother half drags and half carries him down the hall to the bathroom. "Now you wash your filthy hands with hot water and soap after touching your filthy weewee! You wash until I tell you to stop!" Tyler soaps up his hands, tears trickling down his cheeks. He is filled with sadness and disgust and confusion and his upset flows into the little Gamakyr and fills it with loathing. He has displeased his mother, he is disgusted with himself feeling such pleasure doing it, and confused why such pleasure is wrong, and why his mother thinks his dick is so dirty. Not such a blank slate after all.

Tyler wakes with a start and the Gamakyr flees, slipping from the bed and along the baseboard the closet, to darkness and safety. The sun is rising. There will be no more probing tonight. The boy is too upset to fall back to the deep sleep needed anyway, the dream leaving him just as sad and confused and angry now as it had the day it had happened. Besides, the Gamakyr needs time to recover from the memory and unpleasant feelings and time to think. It was a scene it has witnessed thousands of times in the past, but this one is deep and entrenched.

The next night the little Gamakyr waits, drawn up tight in the darkest corner of the closet, until Tyler's deep breathing announces he is asleep. It slowly approaches, and then gently probes the boy's mind once more. Back to the drawing at the table, woody in hand. The Gamakyr flows about the sleeping boy's erect, pubescent cock and throbs in time with the hot blood pulsating through it, reinforcing and strengthening the sensation of pleasure. It gently touches the thread and with the initial wave of fright at seeing Mom, the Gamakyr adds a layer to the memory, countering with the reminder of the pleasure pulsating from his irritated woody and with the pleasure he feels that very moment from his sleep hardon. The boy slowly calms. Another thread is carefully plucked and with the wave of shame the Gamakyr instantly counters with another wave of pleasure passing though the boy's stiff little organ, squeezing and massaging the boy's hardon determinedly until pleasure overpowers shame.

Tyler stretches and arches his body, uncomfortable with the thoughts battling in his subconscious mind, but the Gamakyr persists, slowly, carefully. Countering the sadness that he has displeased his mother, the Gamakyr rejoins with the thought that mothers can't know what boys think, that girls have no dick to play with and have no idea how a boy feels. The Gamakyr adds its energy to the thought, reinforcing it, strengthening it. That his mother might be wrong is disturbing and the boy twists and tenses and fights the thought. The Gamakyr returns with memories of other instances where his mother has proven not to be infallible, and layers on the memories of pleasure that only boys can know.

White Pawn takes Black Bishop d7. Gamakyr moves Black Pawn to e4.

It leaves then, flowing out into the night to carry on to other boys in other homes with other needs. Patience and caution will win out and it knows when to push and when to withdraw.

Over and over for the following week the Gamakyr penetrates the sleeping boy's mind, dampening the feelings of disgust and deepening and strengthening the feelings of pleasure, stroking the boy's hardon with a feather-light touch. Countering, blending, suppressing, strengthening. Second by second memories are manipulated and reshaped in the mind of the slumbering boy.

Friday night, Johnny's home at 48 Lakeland Court, a new memory, strong with emotion and novelty, impossible not to notice when one has the sensitivity of the Gamakyr. A conversation between Johnny and his friends at school about French kissing, wondering if the rumour that a certain girl really did it was true, wondering what it would be like. The Gamakyr plants a gentle suggestion.

White Queen moves to c8. Gamakyr moves Black Bishop to d8.

"You know that stuff Brad was saying at school, about French kissing?" Johnny asks the following afternoon.

"Yeah?" replies Tyler.

"You think guys and girls really do that sort of stuff?"

"I dunno, I suppose so. Sometimes on T.V. they're kissing real hard and I guess they could be French kissing."

"I wonder what it would be like to do it."

"I dunno. I think it'd be gross."

"Would you ever try it with a girl if she was willing?"

"No way," Tyler said wrinkling up his tongue. "Sticking your tongue in a girl is disgusting."

"I dunno, I don't think it'd be any grosser than sticking your dick in."

"In her mouth?" Tyler asked in wide-eyed mock surprise.

The two boys laugh.

Saturday night. Tyler twists and turns fitfully, his mind on the edge of consciousness. The Gamakyr almost leaves but pauses and sends out a gentle probe, ready to retreat at the slightest sign of wakefulness. It has been an emotionally charged night and the air is filled with negative energy and turbulence. A violent argument over the older sister missing a curfew, accusations of irresponsibility countered with accusations of lack of trust, demands of earning privileges, claims of innocence and of dirty minds. Boys only want one thing. Tyler listening, wanting to support his sister, afraid to speak, to stand up to his father. His mother saying nothing either, afraid too. For the first time the Gamakyr notices how much the two are alike, physically and temperamentally, gorgeous, long blond hair and long, feathery eyelashes, deep blue eyes, quiet, gentle, fond of music and singing. The father is loud and coarse, a braggart, a bully. But the mother is the breadwinner, the father all talk but little skill, and his three daughters and two sons know. Tyler can no longer remain silent and the attack turns on him.

That's it! Side with your mother. You always do. Should have been a girl! Should have had four daughters, not three. Look like a girl for Christsake. Act like a girl. Not like your brother! You don't know what it's like to be a boy. Boys only want one thing. Flash to the memory getting caught by Mom. Keep your hands off yourself! Flash to a conversation overheard between older brother and his friends. Faggots play with themselves, not real men. Memories overlapping, clashing, fragmenting. Anger, confusion, guilt. Intervening in defence of his sister solved nothing. Well, not exactly. It did deflect his father's anger to him for a few moments.

A sarcastic thought, but overlayed with the satisfaction of having helped even if so little. The Gamakyr grabs on the thought like a drowning man grabbing a straw and strengthens it and overlays the satisfaction of having come to his sister's support. The boy's empathy is a weakness, and his strength. Building on those feelings, the Gamakyr reinforces that strength, reinforcing threads connecting other memories of empathy, incidences of having helped, siblings, friends. Rapidly now the Gamakyr seeks and draws in and connects other memories strengthening self-esteem, all the while calming, reassuring. Faster and faster it skips from memory pod to memory pod, forming new connections, splitting, recombining, forming new memories from old. It is an expert and weaves new patterns as an artist creates new scenes.

Probing deeper, reaching further, skirting unpleasant memories, nourishing pleasurable ones, severing connections, building new ones. Adolescent fears of getting a boner in public. There, a memory of getting one while singing before an audience. The teasing by classmates, questions jokingly asked what girl he was thinking of, ribald suggestion perhaps it was their teacher, an object of fantasies of several classmates with her big boobs, adolescent joking perhaps it was thoughts of his best buddy Johnny. Fleeting thoughts of jacking off, alone, with Johnny, boys only want one thing after all, thoughts of him and Johnny jerking together to show his father, to show his classmates, he was not a girl, he was a boy, with a cock, with the wants of a boy.

The excitement of their first strip chess, Johnny's arousal when he stepped out of his underwear, his pleasure in knowing Johnny was hot because of him. Pleasure and guilt. Boys only want one thing. Faggots play with themselves. Boys only want one thing. Johnny always talking about sex, hints of them doing stuff, gay stuff. Why? Is Johnny a fag? Is he a fag? Better a fag than a useless, parasitic, braggart father. Better to be mother than father. Sensitive to the opinion of others, to being singled out, to being different. Fears of where things could lead with Johnny, but a desire too. So many thoughts, so much guilt and anxiety, so many suppressed desires. French kissing would be exciting. It would be different. Something classmates would never do, except for Johnny. Better to practice with a friend before attempting it with a girl and failing. Amid the jumble of thoughts and desires the Gamakyr plants a suggestion in what he has woven.

White Queen moves to c3. Gamakyr moves Black Queen to e1.

"You know, I've been thinking about French kissing."

"Oh yeah? Me too," Johnny replies, surprised but also pleased that Tyler brought it up.

"Yeah, well, what I've been thinking is, if I ever do it with a girl I'd want to do it right. I wouldn't want her thinking I was inexperienced and all."

"Yeah, right, wouldn't want that," Johnny agreed, amazed that Tyler had the same thought exactly as he did.

"But there's no way a guy can practice doing it all by himself before he actually does it with a girl."

"No there isn't." Freaky. Another identical thought.

"I suppose he could practice it with a buddy."

"Sure, it wouldn't be like they were really doing it."

"Yeah right."

The two boys look at each other. They hesitate for only a moment and then bend their heads toward each other before one or the other chickens out. They bump noses and awkwardly withdraw and try again, tilting their heads sideways in the same direction. It would have been funny if they had not been so self-conscious. They try a third time and their lips meet. They open their mouths and Johnny slowly sticks out his tongue. He slips it between Tyler's lips and into his warm, moist mouth, slipping along Tyler's own slippery, rubbery tongue. Tyler's tongue becomes firmer as he sticks it out, running it under Johnny's tongue and into his mouth. They breathe through their noses as they try to force their tongues out of their mouths as far as they can. It is a weird feeling, an exciting feeling that sends a tingle down their spine and up their dicks. As they slide their tongues against each other and probe each other's mouth their little dicks quickly swell and push out their jeans.

They finally withdraw their tongues. They look into each other's eyes, their faces only inches apart. Without a word they tilt their heads forward again, this kiss being an ordinary kiss, a sweet kiss between friends. It is even better than French kissing.

"Well," said Tyler.

"Yeah," agreed Johnny.

"So that's what it would be like to stick your tongue in a girl."

"Yeah. You wanna try my pecker next?" Johnny asked with a grin.

They boys laugh and head for the kitchen to find something to eat. Finding some cookies and Kool-Aid, they sit in silence and think about what they had done. It had been exciting, and arousing. Johnny thought of that especially and enjoyed the thought. Tyler tried desperately to deny it and put it out of his mind.

The following Saturday after practising shooting hoops, they go in for a bowl of ice cream

"Hey, with that ice-cream on your upper lip you look like the Hansons in that milk commercial," observes Tyler, referring to a member of a boy band in a popular television commercial at the time.

"Oh yeah, well with the ice-cream on your upper lip you look like you've got a smear of semen on yours."

"Pervert."

"Well, you do."

"That's sick."

"Really, it-"

"That's enough," Tyler interrupts sharply and Johnny knows he can carry it no further.

That night the Gamakyr visits Johnny and sensing his frustration and bewilderment but determination to press Tyler further, it nurtures his fantasy of the two of them kissing and caressing and playing with each other, reassuring him that what he desires is all right. The same night the Gamakyr visits Tyler. Memories of the kiss are brought to the fore and the excitement and daring and arousal. The tender kiss that followed and the pleasure and mutual appreciation are nurtured. The idea of the two of them stroking themselves together is gently touched. Tyler twists and fights the idea but the Gamakyr persists, slowly, gently, and the boy gets a woody.

White Rook moves to c1. Gamakyr moves Black Pawn to d2.

"Melissa was giving you the look today in art class," Tyler observed.

"Go on."

"She was."

"What sort of look?"

"You know, the look that says, oooh Johnny, you're so cute."

"Get outta here," Johnny said, giving Tyler a playful punch on the arm.

"Honest."

"Yeah, well, she's pretty hot."

"Pretty hot? She's got a pair of the nicest boobs in the class."

"Oh yeah, how do you know?"

"From what you can see in her clothes of course."

"I'd love to see them naked."

"I'd love to feel them."

"I'd love to suck them."

"Oh yeah!"

"We'd better stop before I get a woody."

"Looks like it's too late," Tyler observes, giving Johnny a fake grab.

"Can't help it if I'm constantly horny."

"Feels weird don't it."

"Yeah it does. You get one often?"

"Yeah, when I'm thinking about girls."

"What about in the morning?"

"Oh yeah, when I gotta take a leak bad."

"Me too. Lately I gotta take a leak bad every morning," Johnny confesses.

"Yours hurt when you try to pee when it's hard?"

"Oh yeah."

The two boys walk in silence.

"You ever jerk off?" Johnny asks hesitantly.

"Never. You?"

"No." Not all the way. Not even for a whole minute. "You ever think about doing it?" he asks after a pause.

"No."

"Oh."

"You?"

"Yeah, I've wondered what it would feel like," Johnny replies, "but I always chicken out." He pauses and then dares to ask, "would you like to try it?"

"Why you asking all this stuff about jerking off?"

"I dunno, just wondering."

"You a fag or something?"

"No."

"Well you sound like."

"Well I'm not, okay?"

"You don't have to get mad."

"I'm not mad."

The boys walk the rest of the way home in silence.

The memory is foremost in Johnny's mind that night, flashing like a neon sign. The Gamakyr reminds him of the pleasure of fiddling with himself, raises the question of how much more fun it would be with a buddy. It reminds him of their friendship, their loyalty, their secret pacts. It strengthens their love for each other. Then it is on to Tyler, and the Gamakyr finds the same memory foremost in his mind, but working with it is a much more difficult task. It soothes his anxiety, reassures him his thoughts and feelings and desires are normal and common. Tyler knows Johnny was hurt by his comments and angry and he regrets the comments, knowing he was angry with himself and not Johnny, angry because he is so weak, so scared, a girl. The Gamakyr sends out reassurances and calms the boy down, and only when he has calmed does it curl about his soft, damp privates and pulsate gently as it sends out thoughts of friendship and trust and pleasure.

White Queen moves to c5. Gamakyr moves Black Rook to g8.

Each night it visits the boys, encouraging, soothing, comforting, arousing, comforting, soothing, encouraging. Friday night Tyler sleeps over. They watch a video over popcorn and milk and peanut butter cookies. They purposefully avoid any talk of sex, but both cannot help think about it. Another week of nightly visits, of gentle arousing, thoughts of pleasure, thoughts of friendship. The following Friday a sleep over at Tyler's and talk of girls and dating and kissing and why girls have to be so difficult, of woodier and embarrassments and unfulfilled desires.

The third Friday, back at Johnny's. Lights out, third warning to stop talking and go to sleep.

"Remember that time we talked about doing it?" Tyler asks. Johnny looks at him blankly, surprised he brought it up, eager but worried. "You know, about wanking."

"Oh, yeah," Johnny replies, trying to sound as if he'd forgotten and the conversation was no big deal.

"You said you never done it but wondered what it would be like."

"Yeah?"

"You try it since then?"

"No… you?"

"No… They say every guy tries it some time."

"Yeah. That's what they say."

"It would be less frightening doing it with someone else. With a friend."

"We could just do it a little ways."

"Yeah. I was thinking that."

Blankets and bed sheets pulled back, pajamas pushed down. Nervous glances, held breaths, gently stroking, furtive glances, shared smiles. Quickening heartbeats. Pulsating pleasure, growing tension, growing apprehension.

"Maybe I should get some tissue, you know, just in case."

"Yeah. Just in case."

Two boys concentrating, wondering, fearing. Suddenly two boys squirting. Sticky fingers. Nervous laughter and coy, embarrassed smiles.

It is no surprise the memory is foremost in both their minds. The Gamakyr gently reinforces the pleasure and the excitement, suppresses the guilt and worry. The wet dreams erupt without a single touch. It had been awesome doing themselves. A gentle suggestion. Do each other, just to see what it is like, double the pleasure, double the fun.

White Rook moves to d1. Gamakyr moves Black Pawn to e3.

Saturday afternoon. Johnny's kitchen, the two of them having a jam and peanut butter sandwich. Nobody else at home.

"Have you, you know, done it, since we did it together?"

"No. You?"

"No. But I've had plenty of wet dreams."

"Me too," Tyler confesses with a shy smile.

"Wanna do it again? There won't be nobody home for at least another hour."

"Sure."

The two boys go to Johnny's bedroom and pushing down jeans and underwear, sit on the edge of the bed, a pile of tissue beside each. "Wanna try mine? Just to see what it is like?"

"Sure."

The two boys reach over slowly, cautiously, as if reaching to pick up a poisonous snake. It is different, and good. They slowly stroke each other, their thirteen-year-old dicks quickly becoming firm. Blood pulsates through the swollen flesh, pleasure ripples out from the rims of their cockheads, itching, enticing. Pleasure throbs through swollen flesh, their own and their buddy's, and they can feel both together, at the same time, the same pleasure, the same arousal, the same ache, the same desire. Boys only want one thing. Breaths quicken, tension increases, unoccupied fingers grab a handful of tissue and hold it ready. The blast is more forceful than expected. Spurts squirt past waiting tissue, lace fingers and thumb. Such throbbing! Such pleasure! Juice oozes out of burning peeholes and over wanking fingers. One hand sticky with one's own stuff, the other sticky with their best friend's. It is all that was promised and more.

Such sweet memories. The Gamakyr throbs with the desire and pleasure, delighting in the boys' pleasure, delighting in its success. Time for another gentle suggestion.

White Queen moves to c3. Gamakyr moves Black Queen to take White Rook d1.

Two weeks later, a hot Sunday summer night, windows wide open to let in the cool night air. A shadow pours through the fine mesh screen and flows down the wall and across the floor, and up onto the bed at 48 Lakewood Court. Long, deep breaths, the sleep of the innocent, of the contented, bed sheets tossed off in the night heat, tight jockey briefs tented. The Gamakyr wraps itself about the stiff tent pole and sends out a tendril, eager to delight in the thirteen-year-old boy's memory. Baseball practice over, Johnny and Tyler head to Johnny's home, Tyler having hurried over to watch after his piano lesson. The boys are hot and sweaty and in a good mood. Nobody is home, as they knew would be the case. They head straight to Johnny's bedroom and strip naked and embrace and kiss, hands caressing hot, naked bodies as tender lips meet and limp dicks begin to rise. Hands follow the curve of thighs to cup sweaty balls and stroke swelling flesh. Fingers rise to nostrils to delight in the fragrance of hot, sweaty boy cock and balls, their own, each other's.

"Wanna try something different?" Johnny asks, his voice husky.

"Whatever you want."

Boys want only one thing. The two thirteen-year-old boys look into each other's eyes and kiss again and then sink onto the bed. Johnny squirms around so they are head to crotch and reaches over for Tyler's still limp but rapidly swelling cock. He draws closer and closes his eyes and inhales deeply, inhaling the fragrance of pubescent boy with the same delight as one might smell a rose. He slips his lips over his buddy's organ and begins to suck. Tyler follows his example, his dick throbbing with desire as he inhales the fragrance of Johnny's crotch and slips his mouth over his dick. It is unbelievable how their thoughts are always identical. It has to be love. The taste and scent of Johnny's dick are even better than he had imagined, and being sucked even greater. The two boys inhale and exhale deeply with exertion and arousal, their dicks now stiff and throbbing, their young, sweaty balls swelling. They delight in the irritating pleasure piercing the rim of their dickheads, the throbbing pleasure of their young, swollen flesh, still years from reaching its potential length, the pleasure of bringing the other a pleasure that only a boy can know. Pulses quicken, tension builds, and there is a twang deep in their groins that has now become familiar and they quiver and suck in deeply as they feel their stuff racing up the core of their now benumbed cocks and spurting out the burning tips.

Thin and watery, slimy and with the faintest hint of gameness, they gulp down each other's life juice eagerly and with trembling delight, sucking on each other's gushing fountain, sucking each other dry, and when they are done, they right themselves up and kiss and embrace, tasting their own cum on their lover's lips, the watery slime coating lips and dribbling down over their smooth, unshaven chins.

The Gamakyr swoons with the memory, throbbing with the pleasure remembered, the reward of months of persistence and patience. And then, a surprise. The memory continues.

"Wanna try something else?" Tyler asks, his voice thick and his eyes glazed.

"Anything," Johnny responds with a sigh.

Tyler retrieves a tube of lubricant from his jeans pocket, borrowed from his older brother unbeknownst to him. Johnny understands instantly and grins. Tyler lubes his anus and sticks a greased finger up his rectum, having read up on what to do on the Internet and having practised it several times. He then turns his attention to Johnny's already swelling cock and lubes it up. Plucking out several tissues, the box now a regular accessory in both boys' bedrooms, he wipes off his fingers and lies on his back, raising his hips and throwing his legs up over his head. Johnny readily kneels between the outspread thighs and supporting himself on his left elbow, grasps his dick by the base and places the tip against his best buddy's anus. His cock is slender and Tyler eager and both amply greased. He enters easily and gasps with the shock of the heat and moistness of his buddy's chamber. And then he begins to pump his hips, quickly, excitedly. He is fucking! And it is fantastic. All too soon he is squirting up his buddy's rectum.

And then the roles are reversed. Tyler lubricates Johnny's rectum and then his cock, and Johnny assumes the position Tyler had earlier. The union is quick, and the boys look into each other's eyes, clouded with lust, and they smile at each other as Tyler begins to pump his hips. The pleasure of hot, moist flesh enveloping his aching cock, the pleasure of his cock throbbing in time with the flesh surrounding it, the delight of his pulsing flesh and the thrills of irritation ripping through his knob, the same thrills that had ripped through his anus only minutes earlier and that he knew were ripping through Johnny's now, it was unbelievable. Faster and faster he pumps his hips, the pleasure doubling, the pressure mounting. Boys only want one thing. And then he is erupting, filling his best friend with his life-giving fluids, the two of them gasping and quivering with his climax.

Johnny shudders with the wet dream, coming the third time that day, and the Gamakyr soaks up his pleasure. Satiated, it flows off the bed and across the floor, up the wall and through the mesh of the bedroom window. There had been no subconscious prompt from it to perform the last act. Its work was done. The little Gamakyr flows down the street elated as it seeks out new players.

White Rook takes Black Queen d1. Gamakyr moves Black Pawn to e2. White King in CHECKMATE.