Iomfats.org

Home | All about donating | Story Shelf | Stories for Special Days | Writing challenges | Writing Masterclass | Submitting A Story | Publishing on Amazon | Poetry Corner | Sex/Health Info | LGBT and Faith | About Me | Fear of Being Different | Odds & Ends | About the Site | Forum | What's New, What's Hot

You are here: Home > Story Shelf > All Authors > Zustara Orur > The First Son, Arc 1, Part 1

The First Son - Arc One

by Zustara Orur

PART ONE: Introduction, A Secret, Moments Shared.

This is so weird... I've never told anyone all of this before, and I don't know if I'm ready or not. But I hope I am. So I'll try.

My name's Sebastian Currey, I'm thirteen years old, working my way towards fourteen. Gotta tell you a little about myself and my family first, so you'll get to know me a little bit. Alright?

My parents were both hippies in the sixties. Father told me so, they would go around the country in a minibus with hand-painted flowers on it together with a whole bunch of other weirdos and "share love" and all kinds of other bizarre activities. Mother then moved on and became a business woman, and that was probably a good thing for me or else they'd probably named me 'Moonglow' or 'Skylark' or some stupid hippie shit like that... Sebastian's alright I guess, a bit girly perhaps. Anyway, my mom, she's really successful these days, makes lots of money and is a big-shot executive. But I hardly see her anymore, she's almost always off early in the morning, even before I get up to get breakfast, and back late in the evenings. I miss her a lot, she says she does it for us, for me, but I liked her better when she didn't work as hard. We had enough money back then, when I was younger, but it seems she wants to prove she can be at least as good at what she does as any man. She's out on an ego-trip. That's what she'd say about herself back then when she had hair down to her waist and short tied shirts and bell-bottom pants and all that. Yes, I've seen snapshots of them and MAN did they both look weird or what! Mom's terribly embarrassed about that whole era, but Da won't let her throw away those pictures either.

My Da, he stayed in the sixties I think, he's an artist and still a hippie at heart (or more). He goes around the house in his long hair without a shirt on, thinking of what to paint next. All his paintings look the same to me, he splashes paint on canvas and says it's SOMETHING. Doesn't matter what he says it is, I still think it looks just like paint splashed on canvas. (I never say that to him though, I don't want to hurt him.) Sometimes he uses his hands instead of a brush, and I KNOW he used his wang a couple times.

You won't believe this I'm sure, but he actually sells his paintings for like ten thousand bucks or more (some people are so strange, I can't understand that anyone would pay that much for one of my father's paintings), and often he just gives it all away to some charity. My mother says he gives her a headache when he acts like that, but at least it's tax-deductible she sighs. She secretly wants a divorce, I'm sure. Da, he's like totally oblivious. He's still madly in love with her, and thinks the same is true of her, but she's so distant these days. Maybe she's having an affair. She spends an awful lot of time with one of her younger subordinates, a guy named Bill. Even late evenings, but my Da, he never notices. Did I tell you my dad's a total pothead? Well, he IS. I love him very much, but if I was married to him, I'd want a divorce too I think...

The only good paintings he ever makes is of me. In the summers when it's warm and sunny outside, he wants to do a portrait of me out in the garden so he can see how I change as I grow. I tell him he looks at me every day, but it seems he needs to put it down on canvas to really SEE it, he's such a kooky guy. He's done at least one every year since I was really little. So I take off all my clothes and pose for him. I dunno why I do it naked, he never asks me to. In fact, I think he's a bit bothered by it, but he never says anything. And instead of a portrait, he has to do my full body. I sit there and let him paint me, and as he does it, I get a hard-on. Dunno why that happens either, I'm not attracted to my father like that at all! (I'm not a weirdo!) It's just that it feels sexy I think, being the center of attention like that. And he's so into his work he reproduces me faithfully down to the most minute details of me, and when he sees the finished work he kind of wakes up and just shakes his head and says something like, "Jehoshephat!" (Yes! He really says that!) "My dear child, what have you made me do? I can't sell this now!" Then he sets the painting aside to dry and later wraps it up in cloth and strings and put it down in the basement along with all my other paintings. I always look at myself when he's done, and I see how good my Da can be if he wants to. He uses strange colors at times, like shades of greens and blues to paint my skin and hair, but he's GOOD. Really good. The background he always does fuzzy, out-of-focus in an impressionistic style. Realistic, but fuzzy. It's only me he does sharp, and in those weird colors, but he makes me look good I think. Pretty. I love it when he paints me.

This is how I look, sort of: I'm a little colored in my complexion, probably because Da's of mixed origins (he's mostly European, but some other bits and pieces as well, not even him is sure exactly what I think). Not much color on me normally, but it gets deeper in the summer when I tan myself. Hair is sort of light brown and a little wavy, and the summer sun makes it border on dark blonde. I keep it fairly long, down just to the tip of my earlobes or so. I like my hair, it's very well-behaved, I just have to comb it and the waves get all ordered and that makes it look really nice. I have a fairly good physique due to my tennis-playing, slim but without much bulk, and I'm a bit below average height for my age, there's a few girls in my school who are actually just a little taller than me.

And, I have a small flower earring in each ear. Da had them made for me a while back by a friend who is a silversmith. The flowers are actually pure platinum, not silver. It's because it doesn't tarnish Da told me, and they're quite simple in design. A circle, surrounded by five wide petals each; something Da drew on a napkin after dinner once and asked if I liked it. I think they look like that flower at the front of the Scooby Doo Mystery Machine, but I don't tell him that, I'm sure it'd hurt his feelings. But I do like them an awful lot, I really do. One of them is set with a ruby in the middle (which I keep in my left ear and symbolizes heart's blood, and love), the other has a diamond in it (which stands for purity and honesty). The stones are very small, but they sparkle nicely all the same. Maybe I'm a bit coquettish, but so what?

I wish Da would show me at one of his exhibitions, even make an exhibition of ONLY me... But it would just totally embarrass him I know. He never rags on me for getting hard when he paints me. He hardly ever gets upset with me at all actually, only when I've been bad, like lied to him or mom, skipped school, been caught stealing (happened a couple times in the past). Or like that time when I was ten and smashed a window with my hand just to see if I could do it like on TV, and nearly bled to death as a result. THAT really scared him, much more than it did me actually, and I wasn't allowed to watch anything even remotely violent on TV for over a year. He's still really restrictive, even though I'm (almost) not a kid anymore.

By the way, we had just moved into our new home. It was near the end of summer. My mother, she had just received a promotion and we had to move to a new city. All the way to Washington D.C., and she brought Bill along too. I didn't like that, but I said nothing. Dad didn't complain about moving at all, sometimes I think he didn't even notice it when all the moving guys came into our old house and started packing stuff up, then loaded it all onto trucks and shipped it off across the country. I like to think they could have crated him up right along with all our other furniture and he'd STILL not notice it. Maybe he'd start knocking after a day or so, asking to be let out to visit the bathroom...

Our new place, it was even bigger than the last. Lots of large windows that made it feel open and airy, which my Da liked. Big garden and a pool, which I liked. The house had two floors (and a basement), but the second floor was only about half as large as the first. It was still a really big house though, and when we had moved in all our stuff there was still several rooms that lacked furniture. I was thinking my mother would just have her interior decorator buy new stuff to fill them up, so I claimed one as mine before she could. I already had a room of my own of course, but I picked a second one on the top floor too by locking it and stealing the key. My mother said we should get a locksmith to open the door but Da, he just shrugged and told her not to bother. We had so much space anyway it didn't matter he thought. I feigned ignorance as to the whereabouts of the key, offering that it must have gotten lost in the moving-in process and with that, they let it rest. Later, I moved in all of Da's paintings of me. If I could not have it any other way, I would make my own exhibition only for myself. They were still packed down in wooden boxes and I did not take them out. Soon, Da would ask me again for another portrait (summer was well past full bloom after all, so opportunities would be limited in the future), and that would be the first to go up on a wall.

Yes. New city meant new school. Mom picked it for me, some really fancy place. Expensive. Filled with rich kids like myself, even though I never cared much for money anyway. It was completely closed off from the rest of the world, surrounded by a tall, black iron fence AND an even taller brick wall inside it, with guarded gates. Actually, they weren't dressed like guards at all, but that's what they were.

I didn't mind coming to a new school. I had always made new friends easily, and didn't expect anything different that time either. I'm an outgoing person, people say. Well, it wasn't different. Some of the kids were kind of snobbish ("old money" families always were the worst, they thought they were better than everyone else), but after a couple days everyone my age seemed to have warmed up to me. Smiling brightly at everybody always helps!

Warmed up, all except one.

I didn't get it. Wherever he went, there was always two tall, broad-shouldered guys in black suits and ties, and white shirts following him at a polite but still close distance. A kid with bodyguards? It was always the same guys, a black guy, and a white guy. One with short, dark curly hair, and the other with short blonde hair parted down his right side. Clean-shaven, proper, firm, wide-jawed. Physically fit, age indeterminable, but not old. Very discrete. They never spoke, never smiled. And they were an effective barrier against everything between that kid and the rest of the school. Well... Almost everything. Harsh words, they did nothing to stop, but the little guy took it all stoically. He simply glared back.

I felt kind of sorry for him.

I asked Lynn, one of the girls I'd gotten to know. She was one of the more talkative girls I'd met so far, and she was incredibly sweet too. Blonde, blue-eyed, not quite stunningly beautiful (but very pretty all the same), and lots of charm. Just the kind of girl you'd want to get a crush on.

"Who IS that dude, and why's he having bodyguards? Is he in the Mafia or something?", I asked jokingly and jerked a thumb in the general direction of the odd trio. Of course, she knew which of the three I meant.

She tittered cutely, that's the only way I can describe it. She was a bright girl, but she liked playing the vacuous bimbo too. "Bastian! Are you completely daft? Those guys aren't just bodyguards, that's the Secret Service!" I was totally lost, I just looked at her, still not understanding. "He's the First Son you could say. You know, like the kid of the President?"

"Aah." Yes, I really was lost. I could not believe it. I knew the President had a son, sure. My age. But I never guessed I'd end up at the same school as him! I grinned stupidly at her, and Lynn sniffed in mock disdain and left me. She liked me I was sure. She'd be back to talk more later.

Yeah, I started thinking. I'd heard other kids tell that lonely guy things like, "my dad thinks your dad's an asshole!", and stuff like that. I had wondered a bit why anyone would say something like that to another kid, why it should matter what anyone's dad thought of your own dad, but after hearing who he was it started to make sense to me.

I got up from the bench I was sitting on and made my way over to him. At least, I should introduce myself. I remembered his name. It was beautiful, I thought. Kinda like him, actually. He was rather pale, like he never spent any time outdoors. Dark brown, maybe even black hair. Straight, in a razor-sharp page haircut that framed high, rounded cheekbones. His hair was really shiny, glossy even. He probably had someone to take care of it for him, putting just a dash of hairspray in it every day to make it a little fluffy. Small button nose, small, slightly petulant mouth. A slightly jutting chin above a slim neck, with clearly distinguished muscles adorning it.

He wore very proper clothes just like the Secret Service agents, not expensive brands just like everybody else wore (including me), they actually seemed tailor-made for him. They probably were, considering who he was... He had dark wool pants, a knitted, checkered sweater with a white shirt underneath, a slim waist encircled by a black leather belt with a golden buckle, and shiny black leather shoes. A thick golden chain necklace also adorned him. He was sitting on another bench across the yard in the shadow of the school building, his two Secret Service agents standing nearby like vigilant statues. I knew they were armed, and I could see their tiny earplug radios, now that I knew what to look for.

I walked up to him. The statues looked at me intensely for a few seconds as I approached, only their eyes turning, then they resumed scanning the surroundings. Ever vigilant.

"Hello!", I said and stretched out my right hand at him. "I'm Bastian! You're Raphaél Avery, right?"

He took my hand in a loose grip and gave it ONE half-hearted shake. The sleeves of his shirt were very long, and tight. They ended just below his hands. Then we slipped apart. His palm had been dry, his fingers rather cold to the touch. "Yeah." That was his entire reply, he sounded completely bored out of his skull. Like I was not worth even talking to. I had seen that he looked at the long, white puckered scar on my right wrist I'd gotten from smashing that window. It reached almost all the way around on the underside, up on the inside and about halfway across the top of the wrist too. His eyes lingered on it, then they returned to his feet again.

Not much of a conversationalist! "Raphaél... Isn't that a Seraphi name?" I knew it was a really strange opening line, but it felt suitable. I knew it was, by the way. I was just asking for the sake of asking.

"HUH?"

"Like one of God's arch angels", I said. "The leaders of the Divine Host, you know. ...If you believe that sort of stuff." I shrugged, looked down and kinda shuffled my feet like I was a bit embarrassed I'd brought the thing up in the first place. I'm a good actor, I knew I had piqued his interest.

"How should I know?", he asked sullenly. But I had piqued him, I knew it! "Anyway, people call me Ralph."

I smiled my best and brightest smile at him. "I think I like Raphaél better. Can I call you that?" I tried to lock his eyes with mine, but it was impossible. His gaze always slipped away from me. He had round and rather large dark brown eyes framed by black lashes and eyebrows. Deep, moody eyes, beautiful eyes. Mysterious, like calm forest ponds, you couldn't tell just how deep they were simply by looking into them. You had to feel it yourself, and if you tumbled in, you'd freeze and drown in them...

He shrugged, like it didn't matter to him. "Okay. If you want to."

"Great. Well, nice to meet you, Raphaél! I guess I see you later then." I started to slowly turn away, expecting it to happen at any second. It did.

"No...! Uh, wait." I stopped and turned my head back at him. Raphaél had his arm outstretched to catch hold of me, but he had stopped himself short just a few inches away from me. He retracted his arm, kind of slowly.

"Yes...?"

His pale face flushed slightly red. "Uh... I don't have much company", he said slowly. "Do you mind staying a while?"

On the inside I was grinning wide. Outside it was my turn to shrug as if it didn't matter much to me. "Sure. Okay", I said.

Now I probably should mention that it was kind of a hobby of mine back in Frisco to charm pretty kids and bring them back home with me. Sometimes, if it felt right for us both, we'd kiss and touch a bit, nothing serious mind you, just having a bit of fun together. Da knew of course, he was home all day after all so it was impossible to hide from him. We'd had one of those "father-son" talks a while back, and he'd explained to me he didn't care which sex I had feelings for. Love was love, he told me (being that insufferable hippie that he was). As long as I was nice to...whomever...I was with, and careful, he was okay with it. But I kind of got the under meaning I should watch myself around mother, maybe she wasn't quite ready for it. So I did.

Don't know if it means I'm gay or not. I don't care either way, like Da says, love is love. Not that I've REALLY felt it with anyone I think. Not with a girl anyway, and I never brought any home. Lynn, she's lovely to look at, but she doesn't pull at me INSIDE of me, like a boy can do. Maybe that does make me gay. I actually don't care!

Anyway, Raphaél... He was really cute, and he did pull at me at that special place inside of me. But he was completely out of my reach. I mean, you can't take the son of the President back home to your place, that's just impossible for every reason in the world! But I could still be his friend, maybe. If he'd let me.

So I sat down next to him and waited for him to say something. He didn't. Maybe he just wanted some company. I saw him stealing glances at my wrist every now and then, the worming scar showing just barely from within my sleeve as I was sitting down. He didn't ask anything, and I didn't say. Sometimes I'd look at his face, and he'd avert his eyes really quick. Anyway, despite us not talking, I actually found myself enjoying it. Raphaél was a kid you just didn't have to yak with constantly in order to have a good time with, it felt like...

I didn't see him much for the rest of the day. Different classes or something, I suppose. He was at the bench, but every time I saw him, I was engrossed in talk or play with some of my new friends and I never had a chance to speak to him. When I managed to break free, he was gone.

When I got home I was thinking if I should mention it to my parents. I could picture it, I'd say, 'mom, I met the son of the President today. He's at my school, and I even talked to him!', and she'd reply, 'that's nice dear. Now go and be a good boy and do your homework, mommy's tired.'

I decided I wouldn't. Da would have listened I'm sure, but what's the point of only telling half your family?

Next day I saw him back on the same bench. It was his territory it seemed. He never mingled with any of the other kids. Quite frankly, I could not see what stopped him. He was cute, he could be popular I was sure. However, he chose to just sit there. I didn't know whether to approach him or not, he didn't show any signs of recognition as I entered his field of vision. He didn't wave at me or anything like that. First part of the day I decided I'd wait and see if he'd do something. He didn't. He didn't even look at me as far as I could tell, he just sat there staring straight ahead, avoiding the odd jibe by ignoring it.

After lunch, I decided that since the mountain would not come to Mohammed, Mohammed would simply have to go to the mountain instead. I sat down next to him. Raphaél didn't say anything as I did.

I started a conversation. "Why do you always sit here by yourself? I'm sure it must be really boring for you."

It foundered immediately as Raphaél replied with just one word. "Leeches", he said, again sounding sour and petulant.

I wasn't really sure what he meant. "So... You live in the White House, huh?", I asked him instead. He couldn't possibly NOT give a straight answer to that one!

"Yeah." I thought that was all he was going to say, I had already opened my mouth and was starting to shape my lips for my next question, not intending to let up. I WOULD get him talking! "...It's awful", he then added real quiet.

I had to stop myself. "How's so?", I asked instead. Maybe not the right question, it just slipped out.

"Because it's a FUCKING HOTEL." There was such scorn in his voice, I felt it in my heart. "People live there for four years or maybe eight and then they move out, and it never becomes theirs, and you can't move anything or make it like you want, and they have guided tours through the place all the time... And how can you live in a place where they have guided tours? There's people everywhere and no privacy anywhere, and I hate it." His eyes glistened, and I could hear on his voice that he wanted to cry but didn't. I wanted to put my arm around his shoulders and comfort him, but couldn't.

I didn't know what to say, so I just shut up. He probably hadn't meant to tell me all that anyway, so maybe I'd just mess things up for him if I did say something. I just sat there feeling sympathy for him, and hoped it somehow showed to him. He kept stealing glances at my wrist, I couldn't understand why.

Lunch break ended without us saying anything else. I again didn't see him much for the rest of the day, we all had our breaks at the same time but he was almost plain invisible. I never saw when he came to school in the morning or when he went in the afternoon; he probably rode in an armored limo or something, I took the bus those days my Da didn't come to pick me up. He didn't like to do it, cars hurt Gaia, he often said, but gym class days, he'd usually be there for me so I didn't have to drag my wet stuff on the bus, and we'd go shopping together afterwards to not make the car ride a complete waste of gas. I spent my free school time with some of the new guys and gals I'd gotten to know, they were rather nice for the most part. I could not stop thinking of Raphaél though... 'God has healed', his name meant. I'd looked it up on the internet. Not sure if it was really true or not (some web pages are plain nuts), but it was beautiful all the same I thought, and it suited him. A beautiful name for a beautiful person. Raphaél was one of the three most powerful, high-standing angels of the Host, after Michael and Gabriel, according to Catholic mythology it seemed. And the kid that carried his name was certainly worthy of it, I thought.

Weekend. Nothing very exciting happened, and my Da didn't paint me either. I thought I'd ask him instead of the other way around, but just didn't get around to it. I'd never done it before. Maybe he was thinking I was getting too old? I didn't dare to ask him that. Therefore, I hung out at an arcade and blew a ton of quarters on the games there. Didn't see anyone that interested me the slightest, which was strange. I always do. I wished my father would have painted me instead...

Monday. Raphaél was back on his bench again. Didn't know much about him. Didn't know which classes he attended. Maybe I should ask him, but it somehow felt kind of personal. I sat down with him again.

He greeted me. Wow! "Hello, Sebastian", he said. Normally, only my mom used my full name... I felt kind of honored he'd actually said something before I did. We didn't speak for a little while.

A thing I'd been thinking about during the weekend popped into my head. "I think I know what you meant when you said 'leeches' the other day", I told him. "You meant people who try to attach themselves to you, didn't you?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Parents are the worst..."

I understood. "They think they can elevate their own standing by hitching a ride on you? That sucks!"

Another nod. "Sorry", he suddenly said, perhaps not wanting to continue the current topic. "I gotta go to the restroom." The statues reacted immediately, coming up close, ready to escort him.

"Good idea. I could do with a piss too", I said. What the heck, why did I say that? I felt like an idiot.

Raphaél didn't react though, he just nodded as if he understood and got up on his feet. We went together, him more or less showing me the way since I was still fairly new to the place. We got to the door and went inside. One of the two agents, the blonde statue, started to enter too.

"You're not actually going to follow me inside the restroom are you?", Raphaél asked in shocked outrage.

The agent stopped. "My duty is to protect you", he replied plainly, as if that explained everything. "One of us has always followed you before, nothing strange about that, is there?"

Raphaél frowned, looking rather irritated. He reminded me of a tiny grown-up, his face much too serious for a kid his age. "Protect me from what, wetting my pants? It's just a fucking restroom for chrissakes. You stay out there, you got it?!" Maybe he was worried about looking like a sissy in front of me, being watched over by one of the towering agents even while taking a leak.

"Yes Sir!"

Wrong thing to say. Raphaél suddenly got really mad. "Don't fucking patronize me, Matthew!", he retorted harshly. "Or I'll tell my father, he'll have you fired. Believe it."

The agent coughed, blushing. He adjusted his tie even though it wasn't necessary. "I'm sorry", he said curtly, but did actually mean it that time. "Sorry Ralph, I didn't mean to insult you", he added in a softer voice.

Raphaél seemed exasperated. "Just get out, okay?", he asked tiredly. "Nothing dangerous in here for you to shoot."

The agent retreated without a word, his face as stony and impenetrable as always.

"You sure told him off!", I said with a grin as the door had closed behind the tall man.

Raphaél barely smiled back. "Yeah. Well, I can do it sometimes."

I went to empty my bladder. I didn't really need to, but I could squeeze out a few drops just to make it look like I actually had some business attending the restroom. Raphaél stood right next to me at the urinal as I unbuckled my pants and took It in my hands. I felt a little embarrassed and a little excited too. He didn't SEEM to watch me as I did it, but he didn't do anything else either. He didn't unzip his pants or anything.

I held my dick and let loose a short stream. It was totally pathetic, I doubt it would even have filled a whiskey-shot glass. As I squeezed the last few drops out, I felt myself start to go hard, and I just had to finish the job really quick. I put myself back in my pants and went to wash my hands. Raphaél silently followed. I splashed water on my hands, wiped them clean on a paper towel, him definitely watching now the whole time. What was with him, looking at my hands like that all the time, particularly the one with the scar?

When I was finished wiping myself dry, he grabbed my right hand and would not let go. I felt the cool fingers of his left hand hold me tight, his right hand lightly tracing the scar on my wrist. It was a truly sensual experience, and I was definitely going hard. Totally Hard. Lucky me, my briefs would keep my dick tight to my body, it would not show. But it felt incredibly good all the same.

"Uh... What-", I started.

"Shhhhh...", he said. "I'll show you..."

My heartbeat quickened. Show me?!? HERE, in the restroom? With two agents outside who might just decide we'd spent too much time in there alone and wanted see what was going on, no matter what the First Son had commanded?! Besides, anyone else could enter too! I almost panicked. Almost! But he didn't expose himself to me, or at least, not like you might think!

Raphaél removed his hands from me, his fingers brushing past the scar one last time. It made my body tingle, set off shivers coursing down my back.

Slowly he unbuttoned his long shirt sleeves and pulled them up. His lower arms were pale and slim, veins standing out beneath his skin. He had wide black elastic bands around both wrists. He pulled them up too, and turned his palms upwards, showing THEM to me. I could easily see a straight, white line clear across each wrist, and my breath caught in my throat.

"Y-you... You tried to...?", I barely managed.

He nodded. "About a year ago. In my bath... A few more minutes, maybe just ONE more, and I'd have succeeded. Fucking housekeeper, she came in by mistake and saw me." I was speechless. Yes, there had been news about him suddenly getting ill and being rushed to hospital I remembered, but nothing like THAT... "Father's shaving knife, thought that would get his attention... It didn't. I wanted him to resign, but he didn't. Fucking bastard, he's decided to run for re-election. It got covered up, of course. Food poisoning they called it and fired a chef for no reason at all."

I felt how I started to cry. "But... Mine, it was an ACCIDENT", I blubbered quietly. "I never meant to..." It was too much responsibility for me, I couldn't handle it.

He kissed me lightly on my quivering mouth. Lightly, and very quickly. We were almost equally tall, the difference so small it was impossible to notice. It was nothing really romantic about that kiss, it was more like a friendly gesture, meant to comfort me.

"I know", he said softly. "Anyone could see that, it's much too uneven to have been done on purpose. But I felt like I could tell you. And you listened to me, nobody's done that before. And... You're sweet. I think I like you." I sniffled and had to blow my nose in a paper towel that he handed me. I wiped my eyes too. I was suspiciously red-eyed, but it would go down fairly quick. "I'm sorry if I upset you", Raphaél said quietly. "I hope you didn't expect me to be a saint, even though I have the name of an angel..."

I couldn't stop myself half grinning at him even as I was almost crying. "No, it's okay... It just scared me, that's all." I was thinking if I should kiss him back or not. I didn't, even though I wanted to. Too much of a coward...

Raphaél pulled down first the elastic bands and then his sleeves and buttoned them back up again. Then he filled a disposable cup with water and sipped some of it, offering the rest to me which I gladly accepted. "Okay", he said. "We'd better go, or they will come storming in any second now with guns drawn. I can only push it so far, you know."

I only saw glimpses of him the rest of the day. Him passing across the yard with his twin black shadows in tow, he never stopped at the bench. Probably just as well, perhaps. He'd given me so much to think about. I hung out with my new-found friends, but was sort of distant. I don't think I let them notice however, but later in the day, Lynn came up to me again.

"You two are getting awfully chummy aren't you?", she said. There was no doubt who she meant.

I redirected the conversation down a different track. Didn't want to explain to her. "Chummy, huh?"

She smiled, making her dimples show in her cheeks. "Yeah, friendly, you know. My dad's English. I just like the word."

"Yeah. So do I!" I smiled back at her.

We kind of talked bull for a while, nothing really important. Just idiot kid stuff. Well, I guess you're not supposed to talk about important things when you're a kid, right? Anyway, I was feeling a little ashamed for goading her along like that. I felt nothing for her romantically, but she was pleasant to speak with. Easy-going, like me. It made the day pass. I'd have to tell her soon I liked her just as a friend, before she mired herself too deep with me.

I got home, my father was busy painting the house across the street. Or so it seemed from looking at him, seeing his eyes dart out the window at something distant, then back to his painting again. From looking at what he put down on the canvas however, it more resembled a battlefield full of stinky guts or something. I quickly retreated to my room to avoid having to look at it anymore, and to get down with my homework.

Mom was late again, Da not finished with his field of guts. She went to bed soon after coming home, Da sat up late, smoking a joint. He only did it very seldom, and it was probably the weakest weed you could lay your hands on I think. He had friends sick with AIDS, and they lent him some stuff sometimes. He'd let me try it once, but it just made me dizzy and I didn't like it (which I think was the intention). He only smoked them to remember his youth, I think, and not when mom was around. She frowned disapprovingly at the non-habit.

"Hey, Bastian...", he called out to me. "I was wondering... You're getting bigger and bigger now, older... You don't want me to paint you anymore, do you? It's a bit silly, isn't it?" He seemed a bit hesitant.

I shook my head firmly. "Oh no! I like it, I really do. I was wondering when you'd ask."

He seemed to brighten up a bit. "Tomorrow, perhaps? They say the weather's going to be great, like back in June. I'm getting nowhere with my current work like you might have noticed..."

I was quick to agree. "Sure! Let's do it!"

"...And Son... I know you got the key. But don't worry. We'll get them all up for you eventually, just give it some time."

I grinned. "Thanks, Da!" I silently wondered why I still called him by that silly nickname. I'd been told that when I was just a baby, I had pointed at him and exclaimed a happy, "DAA!" (and drooled a bit too), and it had simply stuck since then. Well, he was my Da, quite simply...

And maybe Da wasn't such a pothead after all... Didn't think he'd figure it out so easily, the Mystery With the Locked Door. Maybe he started to investigate where all those wooden boxes with my paintings had gone.

"Okay now, off to bed with you." He took a puff from the joint and blew a smoke ring. As I went up to my room, I heard him call out softly. "Love you!"

He'd stop by my room and make sure I had put out the light, and tuck me in proper. He always did, even though I was getting bigger now. I was almost asleep, and he didn't disturb me. Just adjusted the covers around me snugly and kissed me goodnight on the cheek.

Next day, it wasn't AT ALL like I expected it. I saw Raphaél there like always, sitting by himself. I went over to him and tried to make him join me and a group of others. He flatly refused and wouldn't tell me why. I sighed, then shrugged. Well, if he wanted to have it that way, he could. Maybe he worried about leeches or something. I left him, even though it didn't make me feel very proud. But I wanted some company too, not just a person who mostly sat next to me and didn't speak much.

At lunch, I saw him in the cafeteria for the first time. Oddly, he was only followed by a single agent, the dark-skinned one whose name I didn't know. Matthew, the blonde one, I didn't see. I was lingering, my friends had eaten quickly and already left the table so I was alone as he sat down with me. The agent chose the table across the isle, still vigilant, but keeping out of our hair.

"Hi!", he said. "It's OK if I join you I hope?"

"Yah, sure!" I wasn't sure if he was going to just sit there again and not say anything or not, so I started up a topic. "What do you do after school, do you play any sport or anything?"

He smiled at me and raised one of his thin arms. "Does it look like I do?", he asked, flexing his tiny biceps. It made an almost imperceptible bulge in his knitted sweater (a different one than the day before).

I tried not to smile at the depressing demonstration. "Well, I play tennis twice a week. Maybe you could join me?"

"I'd like that, but I'm not sure it's possible...", he said quietly and pointed in the general direction of the dark-skinned agent. "If I told my father I wanted to try some tennis, he'd hire an arena and a teacher just for me and it'd be boring as hell." He sighed.

"You have tennis courts over where you live, right?" I didn't say 'the White House', didn't want to risk upsetting him.

"Yeah, but they're outdoors, you know... Not safe enough, or whatever. I can't do ANYTHING, it's so frustrating!"

"You and your dad aren't quite on the same wavelength, are you?", I asked.

Another sigh. "You could say THAT again... Sometimes I think he sees me just like another photo-op. Something to show up to the press, like Clinton's dog, you know."

"Heh, I heard he really loved that mutt!", I said. "It got run over, didn't it?"

Raphaél actually guffawed, first time I heard it, ever. "Yeah! It was like big news over where I live!"

We shared that laugh together, and actually got into some small-talk too. I consciously kept the subjects away from the big, scary stuff. Again, didn't want to risk upsetting him. Raphaél seemed like such a sensitive guy. I felt a strange need to protect him, somehow...

Afternoon, he was again gone without a trace. I didn't see him, but I did see a black van with tinted windows pull up to the main building and watched several dark-costumed agents get out. Matthew and the dark-skinned agent met them outside, and then they all went into the school together. Didn't see Raphaél at all, and I didn't think much of it.

I took the bus home. I quit school kind of early on Tuesdays which suited me perfectly. Just me and Da in the garden for most of the afternoon, with only an easel in between us, not a thread covering my body. I tossed off my backpack up in my room and undressed, then put on my bathrobe before getting down. Da was already setting up out in the garden. He had pulled up a sunbed some distance away from the pool where he wanted me, so the light came in from the right direction. I let the robe drop, and positioned myself on the bed. He gave me some basic directions on how to improve the overall play between light and shade, but basically let me decide how I wanted it.

I sat down with my back kind of arched a bit, my right side towards him. I pulled up my left leg, laying the other down flat and stuck in my foot in the small arch created by the left leg. I then crossed my arms on top of my raised knee and rested my head on them. Looking at the world around me with my head tilted down on the side felt strange, but also special somehow.

Suddenly a muted chime sounded, announcing someone was at the door.

"Jehoshephat!", my dad exclaimed. It was a favorite expression of his. "Who is it now?!"

"I'll get it!", I said and scuttled off the bed, forgetting to put on the robe. I often went around the house in the nude, at least in the summers. Not that neither I nor the rest of my family are naturalists, I just liked it.

Realizing much too late that I was naked, I opened the front door just a little and peered through the crack. I couldn't believe it. Raphaél was there on the other side, ALONE! Dressed in completely different clothes too, a red T-shirt and beige slacks, and a baseball cap on his head! He still had the same black leather belt with the golden buckle though, and the chain around his neck. Even shoes differed, he had sandals on I noticed as I let my eyes sweep over him. No socks... (And his feet looked small and cute.)

"Are you just going to let me stand here or what?", he asked in a bright voice. He was grinning wide, his mouth not petulant at all anymore. He was so pretty! As for how he'd found me... Should I have been surprised really? He lived right in the heart of the Federal government. Any piece of information on me was probably no more than a phone call away for him.

I flushed. "Uh, I actually didn't expect you at all, I was surprised... Sorry!" I backed into the house, dragging the door in front of me like a shield. "Pardon me, but I'm kinda naked here...", I apologized lamely. "Hope I don't scare you or anything."

"Takes more than a bit of bared flesh to scare me", he said, still brightly as he stepped inside. "Nice house!", he added as he took in the insides of the building. We furnish our home lightly, lots of white everywhere. My mom remains a hippie that much at least that she doesn't believe in overloading a house with things, Da would have been happy with some rugs on the floor to sit on I think...

"Thanks." I was still hiding behind the door. Raphaél was standing in the hallway, the door still wide open, and he was looking at me kind of strangely. Expectantly.

"You cannot stand there all day you know", he said with an impish smile. "Come out so I can take a look at you!"

I resigned. There was no getting around it. I was semi-erect. Dammit... I was so humiliated! Just a quick thought of letting he see me in the nude had made me rise like that, and now that I had pushed the door closed, I could not stop myself from growing more and more. Concealing it with a hand would just have made the current state of affairs even more obvious so I just ignored it instead.

Raphaél let his eyes sweep over my body, taking me in. ALL of me, especially that hot, pounding part of me about halfway down my body it seemed. It made me blush fiercely, even as it excited me. Even my neck and a little down my chest lit up from my embarrassment. I cursed myself at my carelessness, even as I was jubilant at the chance of showing myself like this to him.

"Yum!", Raphaél said and winked at me. "You look good enough to eat!"

I wasn't quite sure if he was joking or not. "Sorry... I, uh, I can't help it..."

"Don't apologize!", he said firmly. "It's okay, I've seen hard-ons before."

"Errh... Okay..." I still felt like a fool, trying NOT to imagine where and when he'd seen other erect dicks, my boner was pointing straight towards the sky and quite hard enough as it was.

Raphaél giggled. "I won't ask what you were up to before I rang the bell, you can keep that a secret if you want."

"Actually, I was getting ready for my father to make a painting of me..."

Raphaél paused, his eyes filling with surprise. Almost as much as mine at seeing him standing outside our house. "Ooohhh... Your father's not THAT George Currey, is he?", he said with reverence.

"What? You know him?"

"I know OF him!", he replied with warmth in his voice. "I'm a huge fan of his!"

I was totally taken aback, the shock actually made my dick start to soften. Or maybe it was because I had managed to get Raphaél out of my mind. "Christ. I had no idea my Da had any fans at all!"

"Are you kidding! His early works are all masterpieces, I even like some of his modern stuff, like the 'Organic Brush 1-4' series, and such."

"Ewww...!", I said, grinning. "You know what he used to draw those with, don't you?"

He grinned wickedly back at me. "Of course! I said I was a fan, didn't I!" He paused. "Anyway, is it the first time he does you? I don't recognize you from any of his paintings, and I think I've seen quite a few of them."

I laughed, relieved at having gone back to normal again. "I'm surprised you recognize anything at all from his stuff, I certainly don't! But no, he does me at least once every year, but we keep all of those to ourselves."

"Uh, why? You look great", he said and blushed a little. I smiled back to show I didn't mind. "I'm sure you'd make an excellent model", he added diplomatically.

It was my turn to grin wickedly. "Well, if you'd seen any of them, you'd understand."

He laughed again. "I promised I wouldn't ask what you were doing...!"

"It's not like what you think", I hurried to say.

"I'm not thinking anything. I'm just teasing you. But do I have to stand here the whole time? Can't I get to meet him? I've wanted to for like forever...!"

"Sure, sure! Come on in, don't mind the shoes." I started to guide him through the house, and knowing his eyes were on me, I started to get a little hard again, but I managed to keep it more or less under control. "So, you dumped the goon squad, didn't you?", I asked and remembered that van that had come to school earlier that day, there had to be a connection there. Seemed Raphaél had left school a bit earlier than me.

A snorting laugh came from behind. "Goon squad!", he said and guffawed again. "Yeah, that's what I'd call them. They'll be royally pissed that I snuck away like that, but I don't care. It took time to get here without them figuring out, but I think I managed to shake them."

"You didn't just sneak away, you totally fooled them, didn't you? That clothes change, I almost didn't recognize you! The famed, mighty Secret Service, humbled by a thirteen-year-old!"

"Yeah!" I could hear the pride and warmth in his voice. "I hid it all in my school bag this morning." I didn't bother to say it was probably very unwise of him to have eluded them like that, and unwise of me not to report where he was. Like him, I didn't care either, and it was probably the only chance I'd ever have to spend time in private with him too. I wasn't about to let that opportunity to go to waste!

We got out into the sun again, and I winced a little, having to squint down from the sudden glare. "Da!", I called out. "Come over here will you!"

My dad came over from across the other side of the lawn, shirtless of course like always, tanned a deep brown. His long brown hippie hair was waving slightly in the light breeze. "Hello", he returned. "I see you have brought a friend from school I guess?" He didn't seem to recognize the son of the President of the United States of America. I sighed a silent breath of relief.

"Yeah, this is Raph-... Ralph", I finished quickly. Raphaél shook my dad's hand, telling him how much he admired his work. My dad started to beam brightly back at him at hearing the high praise he was receiving. They spoke a bit, while I again positioned myself on the sunbed just like before. "Da! I'm ready now!"

My father excused himself and went up to his easel. "Okay, turn just a little to your right please... A little more... Okay! Shoulders relaxed, just like that. Don't move a feather. Press your head down a bit... Up with your nose, GOOD. Perfect. Now, keep your eyes fastened up on the chimney, okay? I want it to look like you're gazing at the clear sky."

I did as he said. Da always started with a pencil sketch, and his skilled hands quickly formed an outline. Raphaél stood at my side, making sure he didn't block my father's view or the light or anything. "He always does you in the nude?", he wanted to know.

"That's more or less my idea, I think." I was getting hard again, not from being painted this time, but from having Raphaél so close to me, knowing he was watching me. I just let it happen, and I quickly became incredibly stiff. It felt so good sitting like that, knowing he could see me. Showing myself to him... I was completely turned on, more so than I'd ever been before in my life I think. My skin felt as if it was on fire, my heart beating like a jackhammer.

Then my new friend asked something I'd never expected. "Uh... You think he'd do us both, maybe? You know, together...?" He spoke really quietly.

I involuntarily raised my head and looked up at him. Just at that second, Da called out. "Bastian, you know... I don't think I picked a big enough canvas here. Think I'm going to need more space. Hang on a second will you, I'll be right back." He went into the house to get down to the basement where he kept all his blank canvases. Timing was too good to have been a coincidence, but there was NO WAY he could have heard Raphaél either... Or could he?

The sun was hot, not too hot, but just so it made your skin kind of glow pleasantly, and there was only a little wind. That too was warm and cozy, like an enveloping blanket. Raphaél was stripping down, letting his clothes drop to the ground where he stood. First the sandals, then the baseball cap, thus releasing that magnificent, shiny deep brown hair of his. Then the shirt, showing a slim ribcage and flat tummy, and after that, his pants... Raphaél had rather slim boy's legs, and his briefs showed a more than noticeable bulge. And then those too dropped to the ground... I let myself bask in his glory, drinking in that sensual body of his.

I was very surprised at his eagerness, and his candor. Most people are hesitant to show themselves without clothes in front of others, especially outdoors, but not this guy. It felt all right and proper somehow to me, like we belonged there with each other, maybe that's why he was so relaxed. My thoughts weren't very focused right then however, I was just terribly excited. Our garden was walled in by a hedge, so there was no chance of anyone catching a glimpse of our bare asses (which is why we bought that particular place to begin with), but still... It kind of surprised me.

Raphaél's lithe body was a pale pink in color, no tan at all, and quite lean like myself. A little less muscled than me perhaps (him living a more stationary life, I guess that was understandable). Neither of us had really started growing hairs anywhere, and I just found him so incredibly cute. His well-kept page was rippling slightly in the light breeze, his face showing a faint smile. The only pieces of clothing - if you could call it that - he kept on was the thick golden chain around his neck, and the black elastic bands around his wrists. I had my earrings, of course.

My father was back with a new canvassed wooden frame. It was about as tall as the old one, but much wider. "Great... Now I'm almost all set", he said and adjusted the easel to fit the new frame, clamping it tightly in place. "You two, just go ahead and get comfortable while I prepare." He didn't seem surprised at seeing Raphaél undressed too.

I didn't quite know what to do. I sat cross-legged on the sunbed, my new friend sank down in front of me, his feet tucked in under his butt.

"Move a little closer please", my father asked. "If you don't mind. I'd like to get the roses behind my son there, and the magnolia bush behind your back, eh, Ralph."

Raphaél inched a little closer, as did I. Our legs were almost touching. He took my hands in his and held them up between us, feeling my fingers, intertwining them with his. My fingers were slowly warming his. I had locked his eyes with mine, finally, and I was falling forward into those deep pools of his. I was hoping I would manage to swim...

Our lips touched, and held fast. It was magic. His parted a little, and an agile tongue came worming inside of me. Sparks were shooting like fireworks in my mind, this was truly different from my other experiences with boys...

"Hold it!", Da told us. "JUST like that, please!" He began to sketch furiously, to capture that exquisite moment... Not intruding: when he started painting, he was no longer there, he just worked to copy reality down on that piece of cloth. I heard the tip of the pen scribble across the taughtly stretched canvas as I was kissing my angel. Yes. He was an angel, a creature that had stepped down from Heaven and caught me in his arms... All we did was let our hands and lips and tongues touch, and I was feeling hornier than ever before. My hot dick pressed itself against my stomach, and I think Raphaél was experiencing something similar, because his skin was several shades deeper than I'd seen him before. Filled with hot lust.

But we held back. We weren't lovers right then; we were modeling.

Da switched to oils and brushes. Methodically he put up the foundations, slowly adding coarse details, methodically working away using all of his considerable skill. Not sure exactly how long we sat like that, but I was still not getting enough of my angel when my Da spoke.

"This is going to take quite a while", he said from behind the canvas. "You can rise up now to spare your backs, but don't get off the bed just yet..."

We didn't. Instead, we both simultaneously leaned in even closer and embraced. "Aaahh...", I heard both me and Raphaél sigh as our arms, hands and fingers spread out across our respective backs. I put my face in next to his neck, and brushed the soft skin there with my lips, muzzling him lightly. I was rewarded with another soft sigh from him.

I then heard a strange sound you're not used to in a residential neighborhood. It was a kind of deep bassy growling sound from multiple large car engines approaching from somewhere behind me at a fairly high speed, and it made me look up. Our house is right at a street corner, and we were sitting fairly close to the roadway on the other side of the dense hedge.

"Uh-oh...", Raphaél said. "Here comes the cavalry." I heard several large vehicles whoosh past, maybe as many as four or five, and with squealing tires they went around the corner and stopped in front of our house. My angel sighed. "I guess I didn't fool them as bad as I'd like to think. Guess I better get dressed and go meet them before they arrest you all." Slowly, we untangled ourselves from each other, neither of us wanting to let go.

"Uh... Yeah", I said. "Da. There's people at the door." There wasn't any yet, but there would be soon enough. No reaction from Da though, he was too much into his painting again. "DA! The door!", I shouted.

"Ah, yeah. I guess I'd better go answer it...", he muttered absently and put down his brushes and palette on the grass. Just then the door chime sounded for the first time. My father unhurriedly made his way towards the door, and we got dressed in silence. It was easy for me, I only had my robe to worry about. When we were finished, we went up to the house, and we heard faint voices drifting through from the front door.

"...Mr. Currey? George Fenimore Currey?", a calm, slightly raspy voice said. It was full of authority I could hear, a voice used to getting its way.

"That's me", my dad replied.

"Gary Giler, United States Secret Service", the voice continued.

My angel blushed deeply. "Oh no... Dammit, I'm in for it now...", he moaned. Then giggled. "Giler, he's like the head honcho, you don't want to piss him off." I gave him a little hug, just around the shoulders to help strengthen him.

My father spoke again. "Yes, he's here, and quite safe I might add. I can go get him now if you like."

"I'd rather come with you, if it's all the same to you Sir", the voice said. It wasn't really a request. He'd come regardless. Another voice, lower in volume said something. The Gary-voice seemed to agree, and after a little while, I saw Raphaél's two shadows following Da through the house. As they saw us, their pace quickened to a brisk walk, passing him. They came out on the backside of the house, eyes scanning for threats that weren't there. They took in everything in seconds. Hedge, bushes, trees, flowers, pool, sunbed, easel, canvas. Motif on canvas. Two more than rudimentary figures sitting down, holding hands. One figure darker in skin color than the other. Kissing each other. Erect. A gold chain clearly adorning one neck, black bands encircling wrists.

"Come on, Ralph", the dark-skinned agent said quietly. "Time to go home." Raphaél mumbled something. The agent asked what he'd said, but there was no reply.

Only I had heard what my angel had said... "I am home", was his words.

Raphaél silently followed them back through the house, me just a few steps behind. I stopped in the open front doorway and studied the carnage. Four large vans were parked in front of the house, all of them black with tinted windows. In between them was a large limo, also black. It was adorned with shiny chrome around the side windows, on the bumpers and door handles, and along the sides. All that was missing were those little flags you'd sometimes see at the front.

Agents literally swarmed in front of our house. It seemed like four or five per van, maybe more inside. A distant part of me was wondering what the heck our neighbors would say afterwards. What mom would say. A more prominent part of me was worrying about Raphaél. My angel.

"You little shit!", I heard the blonde agent tell him quietly as they walked towards the limo. "You have NO IDEA how much crap me and John had to take for that stupid stunt you pulled! We could get fucking prosecuted, you understand that? And don't even think about squealing about this to your daddy either, coz he won't care-" And the rest I couldn't hear as they went inside the car. I was boiling with anger. Furious! I began to run towards the limo, screaming.

"Hey!", I shouted. "HEY YOU! Pig-fucking fascist bastard!" I reached the limo just as the door closed. I started pounding on the thick bullet-proof glass with my bare fists, screaming more insults. I don't swear, normally. But right then I didn't care what I was saying, I just kept lashing out with the nastiest words I could think of.

The dark-skinned agent stepped out and towered above me, looking none too friendly. John, I guess his name was. "Yes, citizen?", he growled in a deep voice. Before he could react, I had whirled around him and looked inside the car. My angel was sitting in the middle seat, with Matthew at the other window.

I felt John's big fist grip my bathrobe at the neck. "Don't you yell at him!", I told Matthew, the blonde guy, and shook an accusing finger at him even as John began dragging me away. "Don't you yell at him, he was just trying to be normal for a little while!"

"Thank you for your concern, citizen", John told me coldly as he suddenly let go of me and then went inside the car. I staggered a little from the ungentle treatment, but easily regained my balance. The door slammed shut again with a heavy sound, and as if on cue, all the other agents went into their cars too. Must have been their earphones I guessed, or else they were just well trained... They started off with roaring engines and left small tire-marks behind on the asphalt outside our house. The train of cars quickly sped off into the distance.

I stood there watching them disappear, wondering when, or if, I'd ever see my angel again.

Then I slowly turned around and walked back to the house, passing my father as he stood in the doorway.

"Too bad I never got to finish the painting", he said.

"Save it. Maybe we can hang it up as it is...", I told him somberly.

He ruffled my hair. "Of course, Son."

"I'd like to be left alone now if you don't mind." I turned without waiting for his reply and headed up the stairs to my room. I laid down on my bed still dressed in the bathrobe and tried to cry, but no tears would come. I slept a little too, but it wasn't restful.

"Good work, Son", Da told me later in the evening, after dinner. "If you're going to aim high, might as well go straight for the top."

"Thanks, Da... But it's not... Not like with those other kids, you know? It feels different." My father looked at me with sympathy and understanding. He didn't say anything, probably more aware of what was going on inside me than I was. "...So, when did you understand?", I asked.

He chuckled, knowing exactly what it was I meant. "As soon as I saw his face, Son. Don't you think I'd recognize the son of the President in the blink of an eye? Your Da's not as thick as you sometimes seem to believe!"

I smiled back at him. "No, you're not!", I told him warmly. He came and gave me a hug, and I let him hug me. It felt good, I needed to be held right then.

"You remember I said to be careful, right?" I nodded. "Well... Maybe you know, and maybe you don't. 'Ralph' hasn't had a very easy time the past year and a half. You know, those bands he has around his wrists..."

"Dad... I know. He kind of told me yesterday."

Da nodded. "Alright. Remember, be good to him, Son. Be good."

I was wondering how HE knew. So I asked. He didn't quite say it, but I guess he added things up. He knew people who knew people who had heard rumors (which never reached mainstream media), and realizing who 'Ralph' was, and seeing the bands probably confirmed it all to him. Yeah, not so thick after all I guess...

I said goodnight to him, and he pecked me on my forehead.

"Love you, Son", he said. "Sleep tight, and don't worry. It will all work out in the end, I'm sure..."

Top of page | Site Copyright © 1997-2024 IOMfAtS All Rights Reserved. All story and poetry copyrights are owned by their respective authors and their works are published under licence. All rights reserved. Reproduction of any part or element of this site is not permitted without a formal licence from the copyright owner. No part of this site may be used as source and/or training material for any Artificial Intelligence (AI) project. https://iomfats.org | Copyright, Disclaimer, Privacy Policy | Design concept by M EH | Powered by megaman

We support Ukraine — Мы поддерживаем Украину — Ми підтримуємо Україну
We support Ukraine — Мы поддерживаем Украину — Ми підтримуємо Україну