Gene stopped to look at the garage sale. He was not that interested but neither was he in any sort of rush; just a little bored with his friends all busy elsewhere. He didn't intend buying anything; he just wanted to kill time, waiting for his mother to go out. However, something caught his eye, a torch. The casing was iridescent, almost glowing in the sunlight yet no-one else seemed interested. Despite the crowd, Gene was ignored as he picked it up and examined it.

"Sorry it's junk, I meant to throw it out. You can see how badly the battery case is corroded; you'll never unscrew it. Just take it if you can do anything with it."

Gene looked at the torch again. It was spotlessly clean, and ridiculous as it seemed, he had the idea that it was covered in marble. Everyone else seemed to go along with the stallholder's description and Gene was beginning to wonder what was wrong with his eyes but that did not make sense, either.

"It's got an LED light." Gene said, "If I can get it out I might have a use for it."

"I hadn't noticed." the stallholder said, "Like I said, take it. No-one will buy it in that state."

Gene had suggested it had some value, the stallholder had still said take it, and Gene was curious. On his way home he tried it, expecting the batteries to be flat but was impressed when, even in the bright sunlight, a pool of light appeared on the path.

He was still studying it when he went indoors, fascinated by the way the colours seemed to flow, constantly changing. His science teacher had mentioned things like iridescence, refraction, interference and reflection, and now, he wished he had listened more. His mother only saw rust and filth spoiling her spotless home.

"Don't bring filthy old rubbish like that into the house." She said, "Throw it in the dustbin."

As his mother hurried away to fetch a brush and dustpan, so Gene ran upstairs to his room. His mother returned and stared, puzzled. All the dirt and rust she had seen peeling off the torch had vanished. She knelt down and brushed the floor anyway: just in case.

Once in his bedroom, Gene put the torch on his desk and studied it. He moved around the room to look at it from different distances and angles, trying to see it as others saw it but all he saw were the flowing colours. He sat down and tried to unscrew the battery case, but it was tight and as he gripped it, he inadvertently flipped the switch again and startled, he dropped the torch on his desk for it seemed to explode in a ball of light.

The ball flattened and grew and instead of a dazzling light he saw a beach where a youth, about the same age as his sixteen years but naked except for an iron collar, was examining something in the sand. Whatever was in the sand also started to glow, and a disk appeared, but it seemed to reach out and blur with the one Gene was peering through. The youth looked in his direction, gasped and fell to his knees bending forward, so his forehead touched the sand.

In his turn, Gene was thinking projector, but it was two-way. Conference calls needed a computer and specialised software. It was a puzzle, but the other boy's reaction was over the top.

"Who are you?" Gene asked, more to buy time. The boy might not even speak English, but he muttered something, muffled by speaking into the sand.

Curious Gene stretched his out to touch the screen, but it passed through the screen to touch the boy. Gene might have thought 3D-graphics, but the boy gasped again and scuttled backwards before cautiously raising his head. Gene remembered the bar of chocolate he bought. Taking out the bar he broke it in two and threw one half through, so that it landed just in front of the boy. Holding his half up, he waited, pointing and smiling as the boy gingerly picked it up. Next, Gene peeled away the outer wrapper and waited patiently as the boy struggled. The boy had sat up to obey Gene and watched as Gene peeled off foil.

As Gene took a bite he watched as the boy nervously followed suit before he smiled in surprise and delight.

The answer contained too many unspoken questions for Gene. How was the boy speaking a language he had never heard of? Why did he call Gene, Master? There was a new problem: his mother was coming up the stairs. She never knocked and if she caught Gene talking to a naked boy, she would jump to the worst of conclusions. It would be the right conclusion for Gene was gay, but she would not allow porn of any sort to defile her thoroughly respectable suburban home and Gene did not know how to break the connection.

In desperation, Gene grabbed for the torch, but his hand passed through the disk. Panicking, because of his mother opening the door, his balance was all wrong. Instead of using the desk to steady himself, he stumbled and fell forwards, onto the other boy.

The boy felt nice. You don't fall through computer screens. Did he hurt the boy? Had his mother seen anything? Where was he? Gene was completely disorientated as disconnected thoughts flashed through his mind. The boy smiled briefly, but he was uncertain what to do. Should he wait for his master's pleasure or ease him off himself and see if he was all right. Was he a master though? Masters should know how to appear without crashing into him. Neither, should they seem as confused as the stranger was.

"Malcolm, Master. My mother said it means dove and one day I would soar like one. It may have happened, but I wandered down to the dock one night. A ship's captain saw me and decided I would make a good cabin slave."

"You don't sound like a slave. Well, you call me master, but you're not all scared and downtrodden, are you?"

"Well, you are pressing me into the sand, Master." Malcolm chuckled, "It only happened a few days ago. I cleaned the cabin, cooked for him and fetched his wine. He'd drink, play with my balls and tell me what he was going do to me, but the wine was strong, and he passed out before he started anything. I was beginning to wonder whether he could get it up any more, and he was just dreaming. You can, Master, I can feel it."

In normal circumstances, Gene would have blushed and leapt to his feet, trying to hide his growing manhood, but these were not normal circumstances. Malcolm was relaxed, unconcerned and something else? Submissive? Obedient ? Gene was not sure what the word was, but Malcolm called him, Master, and was ready to obey. Gene felt a sexual tension between them, and it was drawing him into a bizarre adventure, not leaving him scared by what was happening and eager to find his way home.

"I like my slaves, crushed beneath me." Gene smiled. It was an experiment. How would Malcolm react to such an idea?

Pirates! That would work if this was a game, but the warmth, being aware of Malcolm's own manhood, the life force emanating from Malcolm made it real. Whatever it was. Gene looked around but the beach and the sea were deserted.

"They are getting more brazen and attack closer to the city. They boarded us at night. The captain had already passed out when I heard them, and I was foolish." Malcolm fingered the iron collar, "I forgot I was a slave and picked up his sword. Slaves do not do that. If I had waited, I would have been part of the prize but now I was rebelling against my new masters. As the pirates advanced into the cabin, I backed up to the stern window. I had a choice. Surrender, to be castrated and have my sword hand cut off, or drown. In the end, it was not my choice for I tripped and fell backwards into the sea.

Malcolm giggled, "It was not a noble fight, Master. The ship was under sail, and the wind was behind them, but the current was against them, so they carried on while I drifted back, and I was soon lost in the night. Luckily we were still in the river estuary, I'm a strong swimmer, the spar supported me, but the current took me to the wrong side to the wastelands . Now I am yours."

Gene thought about his history lessons and how slavery had been abolished but was not sure whether he could explain it all. More another experiment than desire, he lowered his head and kissed Malcolm's lips. Malcolm readily responded pressing against Gene, trying to work his tongue into his mouth.

Gene lifted his head, showing his delighted smile. Malcolm was relieved he had not been too forward. It was difficult to concentrate but Gene was thinking about the problems that had to be dealt with. He lift ed himself off Malcolm, stood up and took another look around.

"What were you looking at in the sand? You know. Just as I arrived." Gene asked.

Unconcerned by his rampant manhood, Malcolm also stood up, walked forward a few steps then knelt down to pull a lump of metal from the sand and handed it to Gene who studied it. It was something of a shock to recognise it as an old oil lamp — from a fairy tale but in keeping with Malcolm's story.

Suddenly there was a shout from the dunes. Gene looked up to see a man, bare chested, pulling an arrow from a quiver. For a moment, Gene froze, his hand sliding across the lamp. He did not consciously rub it, but the same ball of light appeared and through it, he could see his room.

Home! It was all Gene could think about so, pausing just long enough to yell: 'Come on', he dived through the light. Once through, his next thought was his mother, so he hurried to the window. To his relief, her car was gone; some committee was about to cope with her. He turned back to the sound of Malcolm crashing through and sprawling on the bed as the light faded. A naked boy in his bedroom was something Gene could only have dreamed about, but he had to be careful. The road where he lived had an active Neighbourhood Watch scheme which seemed to mean nosy neighbours had a licence to watch every move he made. If he brought a friend home, and his mother was out, she would get a phone call as soon as she got in. It was off-putting, so he tried to be out as much as possible.

Gene watched as Malcolm leapt from the bed to kneel in front of him. Back on the beach, the idea of a willing slave was something of a turn on. Back in his bedroom, a naked slave was going to cause problems, especially since Malcolm's manhood seemed to twitch and grow whenever he looked at Gene. It seemed to Gene, Malcolm was waiting for orders, and would not take the initiative. He vaguely liked the idea, but maybe it would help.

Gene hurried down to the kitchen and returned with a couple of cans, handing one to Malcolm who nearly dropped it, not expecting it to be so cold. As with the chocolate bar, Gene showed Malcolm how to open it and Gene watched as his first drink of cola left him happily surprised.

"Oh yes, Master." Malcolm replied, "I was beginning to wonder whether I would find water and now I have nectar."

"Don't keep calling me, master. You're not my slave, and I need help figuring out what's happening."

"If you were kidnapped and enslaved, that doesn't count. You escaped from that ship, so you're free."

"You do not know, Master. My parents were slaves, so I am too. The captain stole me, and my master will punish me because I disobeyed him. I was told not to go to the harbour alone." He glanced around the room and added, "You are rich, Master. You must own many slaves, so I don't suppose you need me."

"Please don't unless you can make me as rich as you, Master. When free men lose their work, they end up as beggars while their slaves get sold and still get fed."

Gene was thoroughly confused. Malcolm did not seem worried about being naked or w earing an iron collar, but was polite and obedient. However, he spoke honestly without fear, he did not resent being a slave and was not scared of him. He also seemed to be well-fed and healthy. Gene's idea of slaves were vague, loosely based on the concentration camps of World War II and the Confederate states of the United States. Malcolm did not make sense.

Gene needed to understand, so he tried, "Don't your parents want to see you free?"

"Why, Master? My brothers and sister were raised to be farmers , they were given food to make them strong, they were taught their duties, and our Master got a good price for them. They a re valuable, so they are looked after. I pleased our young Master, and he paid my father well for my services to him. My father knows the land, so he is valuable as well, and we have a good life and Young Master was teaching me to be a good body slave, so I'd be even more valuable."

Malcolm's answer had not helped. It sounded as if Malcolm's father was pimping him and that was definitely a bad life. His siblings, raised to be sold, made them sound like livestock and that had to be wrong.

"Of course, Master." Malcolm replied, "It's what my father taught me. Look after the livestock, and they will fetch a better price. He doesn't understand Master's grand ways, so he couldn't teach them to be body slaves, but they know the land, make good overseers, and some will even become farmers."

Gene still had so many questions, but he needed to figure what to do. Malcolm was still kneeling awaiting orders, yet his own life was being thrown into chaos. How was he going to explain Malcolm to his mother. She had no concept of privacy and did not fully understand why Gene insisted on locking the bathroom door. His father would pour himself a whisky and tell Gene to sort it out. He had a couple of hours before his mother returned, so what was he to do?

Citizens need all sorts of papers so how would he get them for Malcolm? He might have arrived through a lamp, but he had still arrived without a passport, visa or anything else. It made him the mother of all illegal immigrants and Gene was not even sure where he came from. Gene stopped, startled by another notion: when did he come from? He glanced at his desk. The lamp stood next to the torch so another question. Could he send Malcolm back?

"OK! There are reasons why you can't stay here, and I'm not sending you back to be punished. I guess I like the idea of having a slave, but I need a friend who'll help me figure this out."

"Master, you don't need a friend. You need someone you can talk to and who will speak honestly. I can do that."

"There's one thing you don't understand. You're hot, and I want you. You'll just make the right sounds and let me think it's what you want. Let's face it. I can't even pay your dad."

"I understand, Master. I will obey you and try to please you and it includes speaking honestly. I hated the idea of that captain touching me but with you, I just wish you'd get on with it."

Gene's cock swelled, but although she was out, the image of his mother bursting in was too strong, yet he had to be sure.

Gene had a small office chair for his desk which he was sitting on. He just stretched out his hand to grab Malcolm's balls and squeeze. Malcolm's face screwed up with the pain but did not protest. Gene pulled downwards and Malcolm had no choice but to stand, legs bent but not crouching. It was an uncomfortable position and Gene was waiting for Malcolm to protest. In his turn, Malcolm accepted a master exerting his authority. It was a relief. A weak master allowed slaves to stir up trouble and then it went badly for everyone.

With his free hand, Gene switched his laptop on. He found video of a city, not worried which one but asked, "Are your cities like this?"

"No, Master. How do those carriages move around without horses or slaves pulling them? What sort of magic makes those pictures, Master?"

"What's a country, Master? Oh! Do you mean Droyskova? The city that rules our lands."

Gene tried various names from ancient times but Malcolm had not heard of them. He was beginning to struggle with holding his position, and his legs were beginning to ache, but he did not protest. Gene had heard of people liking to be hurt but Malcolm seemed resigned rather than excited. Gene gave up, releasing Malcolm with a terse, 'Relax'.

Malcolm promptly knelt down in front of Gene, attentive and alert. Gene picked up his torch, saying thoughtfully, "We need somewhere to hide. We've got to figure what to do, and we need a safe base."

Relieved, Malcolm accepted his answer, because the truth was, his mother tried to choose his friends, and made anyone she disapproved of, feel very uncomfortable. The idea of his own safe refuge was very attractive.

Gene was startled when the now familiar ball of light appeared, but it remained small and, the only way Gene could describe it, looked like a ghostly laptop. It showed an island from a great height, but the view rapidly descended until it stopped in a clearing beside a waterfall.

"It looks good, but do I get three trips or three wishes or something?" Gene murmured to himself.

A box appeared to one side of the screen in which was written: You may travel and see what needs to be done to complete your quest .

"You've seen pictures of my world, and you've seen my laptop and what it can do." Gene said to calm Malcolm, "That's my world, and I understand it. I don't like the idea of you being a slave, but I don't understand your world, so you need to teach me."

"Yes, Master. I don't understand a world without slaves, and where everything is done by magic."

Gene was desperately trying not to think of Malcolm as a slave, but he realised he was failing. It was too much to take in and Malcolm scared him slightly. The slave was more confident and self-assured than the master. If travelling through a magical torch upset his world of science and reason, Malcolm upset his ideas of right and wrong.

Gene looked at Malcolm who showed no fear. Instead, he grinned cheerfully as if sharing a joke.

"It's a thought." Gene replied, "We've got two worlds to deal with, but it's your cock. I'm thinking about being fucked by it, when I should be concentrating."

Malcolm grinned again and remained still. It took time to get all the gear from the garage, and the bedroom steadily filled. Malcolm watched, unhappy at his master doing the work but obeyed his order to stay still. Gene breathed a sigh of relief when he was done. He picked up the torch.

OK! We need the portal to be big enough and be open long enough to get everything through, he thought. He pressed the button and to his surprise the portal appeared just as he asked, so he added out loud, "OK, slave. I'm going for a swim while you carry it all through."

Malcolm nodded, and waited for Gene to step through. It seemed to Gene that Malcolm was happy with his instructions: to be doing something at last. The island was deserted, Malcolm did not seem worried about being naked but, skinny dipping was different to the brief nudity of a shower. Gene pulled off his shirt and kicked his trainers off but hesitated before unzipping his jeans and pushing them down. The pause was even longer as he took a deep breath and pushed his briefs down. He glanced at his body, comparing it to Malcolm.

He was pale with an even paler region below his waist unlike Malcolm's rich brown all-over tan. Both boys were muscular though Malcolm's was due to hard work while Gene's muscles came from trips to the gym and football practice. When he compared groins, Gene felt scruffy. Malcolm was smooth all over while Gene sported an unruly and ungroomed mop of pubic hair. Malcolm paused and nodded approvingly but continued with his task while reassured, Gene turned and dived into the pool.

He spluttered as the cold water contracted his muscles, but he quickly adapted and swam across to the waterfall. He tried standing on a rock under it, but the water was too cold. Swimming back, he found Malcolm standing by the water's edge holding a dressing gown. Malcolm guided him to a chair a little distance from the pile of gear.

"It looks like a chair, Master, but it's so light. Is it strong enough? Did I guess right? Is this robe what you dry yourself with?"

"I was joking." Gene said, "My mother would never allow it in the house, because it's too common. There's only wine to impress guests with."

Gene was still trying to work out the boundaries, waiting for Malcolm to object to his instructions but Malcolm knelt down, leant forwards to lick Gene's manhood. Gene groaned appreciatively, but gently pulled Malcolm's head upwards.

As Gene nodded, Malcolm continued, "I want you to stop asking. What's happening is scary, and you know what to do. I know, you're going to tell me you don't, but we're alive, and safe because of you. If I was free, would I cope in your world? How can I go home to mine without being sent to the mines? I'm trained to serve and to pleasure men. Let me do what I know and believe me, with a body like yours, it's pleasure for me, too."

Malcolm sighed, "I was brought up to be a useful servant. Dad taught me the land and others taught me how to serve. How can I make you understand? Slaves trained by my master … my old master, are valuable. They fetch good prices, run their master's palaces, help with his businesses and can be rich with their own slaves. I know your world is different, and I don't understand it, but I can still serve you. You just don't accept it's what I want."

"OK, I guess I grew up with idea that slaves hated being slaves. It's what everyone assumes back home. Surely you want more than a slave can have."

"Like what, Master?" Malcolm asked, "Maybe I would choose a boy who didn't want to talk like a philosopher and let me get on with pleasuring him, but I'm a slave. I have to be patient with my master, but maybe, I'd choose one like you who cares about everyone. Can we have some fun, please Master?"

Gene was still uncomfortable. He was cautious about admitting his sexuality so had not had many encounters. Malcolm's eagerness and confidence awed him and feared his own lack of experience would make seem like a naive child.

"I've not done much stuff." he said, nervously waiting for Malcolm's reaction, but he just grinned.

"It's why you should have slaves. You have to be careful you don't offend a free boy, but I'll be a teacher, and my first lesson is to tell you to shut up, sit back and let me show you how to use your mouth. You can practise on me later."

Gene gave in. Malcolm was going to serve him whether Gene wanted him to or not. He shuddered, not out of fear but because his body was reacting to Malcolm's tongue, and there was something else. Though in a situation weirder than anything he could have ever imagined, he was more at ease with his sexuality than ever before. He was not going to be discovered, Malcolm was not rushing to finish before someone came. Indeed, the opposite was true. Malcolm was content and relaxed, and it seeped through to Gene who was becoming aware of sensations he had never felt before. As his need to cum intensified, he did not have the distracting fear of needing to hurry. Instead, Malcolm was content to lick the inside of his thighs, his abdomen keeping him just below the point of eruption. Nothing existed except for Malcolm's tongue and his body clearing itself of tension except for its urgent and immediate need.

Finally, Gene could not hold back. He grabbed Malcolm by the hair and pulled his head down while his hips pumped with a power he scarcely believed possible. He was fully drained emotionally as well as physically only coming down from his high as Malcolm pulled off, coughing and spluttering.

"Oh, I did, Master. You were so eager and responsive. It was fun trying to make it last as long as possible. Look! My own member is up. It's a pity slaves just work and can't play." Malcolm grimaced, "I shouldn't have said that because you're going to try to forget I'm a slave."

"You should go for another swim, Master, but I don't know how to set up your camp, and please, don't say you'll do it."

"No. I'm learning. We'll set the tent up over there, so take the large bag that rattles and empty it."

Malcolm obeyed leaving a pile of strange looking tubes on the ground. At least, they were strange to Malcolm, for Gene they were the rigid frame of the tent waiting to be assembled.

"OK! It all slots together like this." Gene said choosing a couple tubes at random to show Malcolm, "I don't know if you can read but look at those letters and numbers. When the correct tube slots into the correct joint, the letters and numbers match on both parts."

"Slaves don't get taught to read, Master, but I've learnt a bit. I've not seen writing like this before, but I think I can do it, Master. Swim! Leave your slave to work."

Gene obeyed. If you listen to your teachers/obey your master then you go on to university/learn skills to improve your chances in life. Then, you get a good a well paid job/work for a wealthy master and have a good life. Gene could see parallels, but the one big difference was, Malcolm could not drop out if he chose to. However, Malcolm knew what he wanted, and Gene wondered if his role was helping Malcolm achieve it.

Gene dived into the pool swam briefly then rinsed himself clean. He did not argue because Malcolm had placed the chair, so he could oversee the work. Neither was he surprised when Malcolm paused from erecting the tent frame to help him slip on the dressing gown, but Gene stopped him.

"I won't bother because it'll be damp from last time," he said, "It's warm enough, so I'll catch some sun."

"Let's get the tent up." Gene frowned as he paused then added, "I should have said, 'Finish putting the tent up first', shouldn't I?"

The two boys grinned sharing an easy companionship. Gene was getting used to the torch or the lamp always being nearby. He picked up the torch, gently rubbing it, while quietly murmuring to himself.

"Show me where the pirates come from, please." The ghostly screen appeared descending to a town. In the centre were a cluster of villas surrounded by a sprawling shanty town. Gene watched, sickened, as a prisoner was lashed to a post, and a whip struck his back leaving a bloody line of torn flesh. The crowd watching seemed resigned and half-starved. Most were naked or just managed a loin cloth while Gene could see little difference between those wearing a collar, presumably slaves, and those not.

"OK! Will you show me Malcolm's town, please." At the centre was a large villa, almost a small palace, surrounded by smaller villas. Beyond were small cabins, too small to be called houses, but they lined wide streets and each had a garden. It looked to Gene as if the residents were growing fruit and vegetables rather than flowers, but they all wore Roman like tunics, looked well-fed, and greeted each other cheerfully as they went about their business. There were slaves, naked except for their collars, also well-fed, but although they made way for a free man, they were cautious rather than terrified.

"How about the mines Malcolm talked about." The scene changed again to show slaves wearing chains between their ankles and looking exhausted. They were muscular and not half-starved but showed the dull acceptance Gene expected to see in slaves.

"Can you show a Google-type map showing the two towns and where the pirate ships are, please?"

A map appeared on the screen. Gene found the name Droyskova, Malcolm's city, on a river at least thirty miles inland from the sea. Another city, Bra-Al-Gordin was on the coast some fifty miles from the river estuary. Between them was a range of mountains, not that high, just enough for there to be snow on the peaks. Trails ran into the mountains but petered out before the peaks. On the Bra-Al-Gordin side, the mountains jutted out to sea as a giant peninsula. On the other side the river cut through thick alluvial plains. It seemed to Gene that the sea was washing away the mountains and dumping it in the river mouth. It was as good an explanation as any of the land formation but what Gene was really interested in was a cluster of ships leaving Bra-Al-Gordin sailing towards the peninsula.

I can help you observe. You must draw your own conclusions. It must be your quest and your destiny.

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The Wizard and the Torch

by Flaulus

Chapter 1