Title: Blow That Whistle
Author: Shadey Grey
Story Codes: Mb, cons, mast, oral, pedo, ped, preteen
Synopsis: Warren (28) has just finished restoring one of the
earliest diesel trains in history. His last task is to drive it
across the country to the museum. But when the owner of the
railroad asks him to take his son, Ben (6) along for the ride as
his relief crew (dressed in period clothes and all!), Warren
can't help but ask how he will be able to resist making some
fantasies of his own come true on the rails

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think: shadeygrey0@gmail.com
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	The depressingly familiar controls worked smoothly under my
blackened hands. Before me, the series of levers and gauges
responded appropriately, test after test. The roar of the engine
was a consistent drum of thunder. The floor of the cabin rumbled
under the force of the horsepower created with every piston's
pulse. Each breath was a potent mixture of diesel fumes, machine
oil, and muggy air that could choke a lesser man. I had spent the
last four months sucking it all in. Hopefully, this was the end
of it.
	Check after check cleared as I reclined in the old rocking chair
I had hauled up into the cabin. The long list of tests had been
run at least once a week, with each new week finding new gremlins
in old Gurta. At some point, each and every test had been
cleared, then uncleared, then recleared at least once. I almost
couldn't believe that nothing else had reared its head at the
last second. I shut down the man eater, marked the forms on my
clipboard, and promptly decided that fresh air was worth the
effort of standing up.
	Climbing down the steps, I took a few steps back to look at
Gurta, the Man Eater, as the maintenance crews had taken to
calling her. She was an early era diesel engine, one of the first
to travel across the United States and one of the first to pull
passenger trains. Unfortunately for the railways, Gurta (and the
two others like it that were actually constructed) were some of
the least reliable locomotives in U.S. History. As soon as it was
possible to replace them, new models were on the rails and
Gurta-- along with her sisters-- were relegated to sidetracks
permanently.
	Recently, it had been decided that she was to take one last
historic voyage to be put in a train museum. Of course, that
meant quite the maintenance cycle to get it moving after about 70
years of inactivity. All of the other technicians and engineers
had given up on Gurta, faced with problems they couldn't handle.
So we called her the Man Eater, since she was chewing up the
crews and spitting them back out, unsuccessful.
	But with two days to go before her scheduled trip, I had her
cleared.
	“Warren, kid, where are we at?” Vince shouted as he hurried
around the corner and into the bunkhouse. Vince ran the crews and
was the salty old dog of the railroad world. He and his boys
worked on everything throughout the years, from steam engines to
bullet trains. The man knew his way around almost anything and
almost everyone. It was because of him that I had gotten a job
anywhere. It was reassuring to be called back for once.
	“Take a look for yourself,” I replied, heaving my clipboard
across the concrete as I headed back to my bench to take up a rag
for my hands.
	Vince swept it up. “Don't tell me it won't hold... Well, shit,
kid. I never thought I'd see the day this old beast would pass.”
	“Thank God it did,” I groaned. “If I had to climb back into the
guts of that thing again, I'd just rip it apart piece by piece.”
	“I knew you had it in you,” Vince said, joining me at the bench.
“You got a way with the oldies, Warren. Nobody as young as you
should be this good with antiques. I can't see for the life of me
why you are trying to walk on me.”
	I sighed. “You know I never got into this to fix up antiques.”
	“So, back to trying to get into the bullets?”
	“Something like that.” I tossed the rag on the bench,
disappointed with the whole thing. I had been relegated to
restoration projects despite all of the study I did on high-speed
trains. It was the only place I could get work. Vince always got
me on projects, but all the experience seemed to kill the
opportunities for working on the high-tech trains. It just wasn't
in my resume anymore.
	“Well, I have one last commission for you while you keep up the
search...”
	“No more commissions, Vince!”
	“It is only a few days, max, and you are the only one I can
trust to take it on,” Vince said, a certain pleading tone in his
voice.
	My resolve was falling apart. Vince was too good a friend and I
was too much of a pushover. “What is it?”
	“Driving her to her dusty grave.”
	“Really? Send someone else. I'm sick of this thing.”
	“Gurta has the longest maintenance history I've ever seen. I
need someone driving her that can fix her, or at least be able to
figure out what the problem is.” Vince scratched at his beard.
“Besides, if you say she checks out, then you know it is only a
two day trip, right?”
	Asshole, I wanted to call him. Vince had earned too much of my
respect to deck for the transgression, but it didn't stop me from
being pissed off. He was covering the shop's ass-- his ass. “So
that's how it is?” I asked finally.
	“Yep. I need the best on this and you are it, kid. I'll send you
the details later. Take tomorrow off and be back in by 5:30 the
next day.”
	I shook my head. “But departure isn't until 10...”
	“5:30, Warren. See you then,” Vince said as he walked out.
	
	I spent my free day in my empty apartment, wondering what to
expect from the trip ahead. In what world did the engineer for a
locomotive just serviced need to be in so many hours early? Hell,
in what world did the service tech get chosen to operate the
machine? On the one hand, Vince's logic wasn't wrong. But on
another, it didn't seem to fit at all. I would find out, I was
sure, the next day. In the meantime, I tried to relax.
	Instead, I ended up just staring at walls, thinking about
getting my life back on track. When I was little, my parents took
a trip to Europe. And when the chose to ride the TGV to Paris, I
knew. When it took off, I was convinced that I would work on
trains. Not only that, I would work on the fastest trains I could
find. Of course, nothing works out as planned. I attained a
masters degree in engineering and all the certifications to
operate and maintain all of the high tech stuff, magnetic and
electric, bullet trains all. But there isn't much like that in
America. And the few that there are weren't hiring. So I took a
paid internship for kicks working on old diesel and steam engine
restoration with Vince. It turned into the only job offer I could
find. So I was trapped.
	But new projects up north in Canada seemed promising. All there
was in my mind was the future of rail transport, be it freight or
passenger. But this old shit had to go. Everyone was right at the
shop. At 27, I was just too young to be farting around with junk
like that.

	“You're late,” Vince growled as I strolled in before the sun
could be bothered to find the horizon. My watch read 5:37 AM.
	“Final checks aren't for four hours, so who cares?” I groaned. I
barely even managed to shower.
	“Boy, you better clean yourself the hell up. The boss is going
to be here in an hour and you need to have your final check done
in 53 minutes. And, after that, you need to be cleaned up and in
your outfit by 7:00. Ceremony begin at 9:00 and you are on show
for questions. And the owner wants to meet you.” Vince didn't
even bother to look me in the eyes as he turned my next few days
into a personal hell.
	“What is all of this shit?”
	“The owner of the railroad decided to make it a PR event. And
since they are paying for everything, they can do everything they
damn well please. And you don't have to like it, kid.” Vince
sighed. “Just go do your checks and roll it around to track C.
Match it with the stage.”
	I was livid. Had I known all of this would have been a part of
getting Gurta out of the shop, I would have turned it down. I
wasn't a god damned show pony. “This isn't what I signed up for,
Vince. And what outfit?”
	“Deal with it. Costume's hanging by your locker.” He chuckled a
little bit. “Just play the part. Trust me. Its worth your while.”
	“What does that mean?”
	“Nothing if you don't go do it.”
	“Yes, sir,” I muttered.

	Gurta checked out. I started to pull out my various possessions
from the cabin, from posters to manuals. Leaving everything at my
bench, I went back to pull out the rocking chair. The more I
looked at it, though, the more I decided to leave it. If I had to
suffer the ridiculous ceremony of the morning, I was going to
keep my chair as an idiot tax.
	I secured my duffel bag inside the cabin and safetied my chair
before warming up the motor. Within forty minutes, I had her
coupled up with the first two passenger cars Gurta's sister ever
pulled and lined the engine up with a set of decking with
old-style patriotic drapes around them. There was a podium and
some chairs set up, along with a small block of seating just on
the other side for guests. The yard had been cleaned up
yesterday, with most of the cars and engines hidden away in
bunkhouses or down the track. Tool kits and assembled replacement
pieces were locked up in the warehouse. It was like we were a
proper train yard for once.
	Leaving the bestial metal woman to her peaceful moments before
the party, I hurried off to the break rooms for the mechanics. It
was empty, save me, of course. Everyone else had the day off,
since no work was getting done with the pomp and circumstance. As
I strolled over to the hangers, I groaned. “You have got to be
kidding me.” The clothes selected for me were vintage train
engineer overalls, long-legged, and corresponding work shirt
underneath. I could only assume the white and blue-striped cap
sitting on the shelf above was meant to be worn as well. I felt
like a miserable little kid being dressed up by his parents.
	Vince had left me styling gel and everything I needed to look
the part of an old-tyme engineer. Begrudgingly, I stripped down
and took up the task of turning a disgruntled young mechanic into
a silver-screen-perfect train prince. The slim body frame that
let me work so easily on these machines made the figure easy. I
gelled and parted my normally-wild shock of blonde hair. The
outfit was a little tight around my ass for overalls, but at
least they were comfortable. Add in a shave and I was done.
	As bizarre as it felt, the overall look felt convincing. If it
weren't for the modern technology in the background of my
reflection, I might have tricked myself. The clean-cut look
wasn't bad either, even if it did take too much work. After one
last look, I hurried out into the light of day.

	I was posted next to Gurta for the next hour. As news reporters
and railroad aficionados arrived, many came straight over to the
engine. It was my responsibility to answer questions about it.
Most of the content was easy or directly related to what I did to
it, but a few folks put me through my paces on the history of it
all. I got quite a few compliments on the outfit. For Vince's
sake, I hoped they were being honest.
	After a bit, questions lulled and the reporters got interested
in some of the VIPs for the show. It gave me a short reprieve
before Vince came marching my way, a small entourage following
behind him. For the first time in almost three years, I saw Vince
wearing a suit and tie. It didn't fit him well, making him appear
more like a mafia thug than a respectable business man. Behind
him was the real deal, though. A big man whose suit seemed to
belong on him. He had to be in his early 60s, but he walked with
a confidence and health that denied aging its right to weaken.
	I didn't much note anyone beyond the third individual hurrying
to keep up. Only managing to keep up by a near-jog, a tiny sprite
of a boy hurried along. He couldn't have been older than seven
years, with an auburn mop crowned by an engineer cap not far off
from my own. In fact, we matched fairly closely. The enthusiastic
child wore OshKosh B'Gosh overalls, modeled after an engineer
save the pant leg being turned into a short cut around mid-thigh.
They were made of a soft cordoroy compared to my work jean. I was
rather taken aback by him.
	“Warren, this is John Holden. Mr. Holden, this is Warren Harris.
He is the most talented mechanic and train operator I've had the
pleasure of working with. Without him, none of this would be
possible,” Vince said, waving to Gurta.
	“It is an honor to meet you, my boy! Vince has been telling me
good things,” Holden said, taking my hand up for a firm shake.
“He tells me you were the only one to catch all of the gremlins
in this model and clear them out.”
	Vince was smiling at me, something he never did. And Mr. Holden
wasn't just the owner of our shop. He owned half of the railroads
in the country. This man wasn't born with something so low as a
silver spoon in his mouth. But he was a true tycoon. A literal
legend trying to transform the infrastructure of the nation. Even
with an economic iconoclast in front of me, I had a hard time
keeping my eyes off of the boy with him.
	“I don't know about all that, sir. I wasn't the only mechanic to
work on this piece,” I began, but Holden cut me off.
	“Don't be so humble! Vincent has been passing on weekly reports
of the progress. I commissioned the work personally. I understand
that the only real progress came from you.”
	I wasn't much for bragging, but it was hard not to the way he
spelled it out. “I guess that is true.”
	“Of course it is, my boy! Of course it is.” Holden laughed.
	The young boy had left Holden's coattails, looking at Gurta's
wheels. Holden started bouncing back and forth about how lovely
the event was, giving me an opportunity to chase my own interest.
I joined the kid's side and knelt down beside him. “See those
bars in there?”
	The boy looked up, then, realizing who it was, lit up even more.
He nodded.
	“Well, those bars came off of a steam engine's. I found them at
a train junkyard. Back in the old days, when these were getting
built, you nothing was stronger. It used to go to a steam engine
that blew up after a derailing. No one found out why. Hopefully,
it wasn't the wheel bars, right?”
	“Yeah!” he replied. “Are you the engineer?”
	“Not sure, kid. By the looks of your clothes, that might be you.
I hope you know how to drive this thing.” I elbowed his shoulder
a little for effect.
	He giggled. “No! I'm not. You are!”
	“Fine, you got me. So why are you all dressed up?”
	“I'm the relief crew!” he nearly shouted at me.
	A big hand landed on the boy's shoulder. Holden was there,
watching us talk. I immediately jumped up.
	“I see you met my boy, Benjamin,” he said with no small amount
of pride. “He's a bright boy, just like his father.”
	“So I saw. He knew right where to look to see all the best
parts.”
	Holden grinned through his elegant facial hair. “My boy, I have
a favor to ask of you.”
	I looked at the tycoon with curiosity. “Anything, sir.”
	“When I was but a child, my father grew from mechanic to owner
of half of the country's rail. As he prepared me to take on that
role, he took me into the cabin of a train and showed me the
heart and soul behind all of the fire and iron. I want Benjamin
to have the same experience.”
	I must have had an incredulous look on my face. “Sir, are you
asking me to take your son in the cabin for the trip?”
	“Yay! I get to be in the cabin? Really dad?” Benjamin shouted.
	“Don't be so surprised. Ben seems perfectly taken with you. And
he is well-behaved. I want him to know what the rails are truly
like.”
	I took a few seconds to consider it. Gurta had a spacious cabin.
I was sure there were regulations that prohibited it, but if the
owner of the railroad asked me to do it, I was equally sure that
he would protect me in the worst case of being caught. Company
would be appreciated on the long haul, but Benjamin could be
profoundly obnoxious. He seemed alright now though.
	There was also another element to my hesitation. I have always
had a sexual attraction that I denied the light of day. Benjamin
was a lovely distraction to my job at best and at worst, my fall
from grace. Already, I could imagine myself taking advantage of
the situation. Already, I was thinking up ways to risk everything
and also walk away with my freedom. And with a boy so enamored
with the train world, it seemed like he would believe anything I
told him. In my imagination, I saw myself holding him close and
exploring desires I had sworn myself not to even look in the
direction of.
	But I also saw the value of being indebted to the owner of the
railroad. He was a man that could open doors. Maybe even give me
access to my bullet trains. And there was no way I could ignore
that.
	“Has Vince been informed of this?”
	Mr. Holden smiled a foxy smile. “Vincent has elected to defer
regulatory control of cabin procedure for this departure to my
office.”
	Between the two of us, the lack of immediate approval had begun
to scare the tyke. As conversation and time passed, the worry
became more and more apparent.
	“In that case, as long as it meets your approval, sir, I take no
issue with having Benjamin on board as my relief crew.”
	“Yes!” Benjamin shouted, bouncing up and down. He surged forward
and hugged my legs, pushing his cheek against my side. “Thank
you! Thank you! Thank you!”
	“Benjamin...” Mr. Holden said slowly, pulling his boy off of me.
“Now you look here. Running a train is serious business. You do
whatever Mr. Harris says. Don't touch anything without
permission. Behave.” Mr. Holden yanked the cap off of his child's
head, ruffled his hair, and slapped it back down onto his
mop-top. “Go get your things from Ms. Pendleton.”
	Benjamin ran back towards the entourage, holding his cap to his
head as he did.
	As Mr. Holden rose, I spoke. “I do have one concern, Mr.
Holden.”
	“And what is that, Mr. Harris?”
	“What of accommodations? You know, I'm sure, that this train is
scheduled to push across the country over three days with no
relief crew. That means I stop on side tracks. There won't be
motels to stay in and the closest thing to facilities will be the
occasional train yard or station bathroom. I won't be able to put
Ben up anywhere.”
	“All the better,” Holden replied. “If you are sleeping in the
cabin, he should do the same. The boy is taken up in it. He needs
a dose of realism, see what it is really like to make that run.”
	“So be it,” I said. “I'll give him the real deal and show him as
much as I can.”
	“I knew you were the right choice for this,” Holden said,
patting my shoulder. Glancing at his wrist watch, he nearly
jumped. “Oh hell, the show's about to start. Damn dog and pony
shows! You are a good man, Warren!” he said as he hurried back to
his entourage. When I heard the last bit, I knew for certain that
John Holden was my kind of man.

	Cameras flashed and speeches echoed across the yard. I tried to
remain as calm as possible, sitting on stage along with the
speakers and VIPs. Around me were CEOs, leaders in museums and
historical societies, and other rich sorts of people. Meanwhile,
I made less than 50K and lived in a small apartment. I felt
incredibly out of place. Normally, I might be wearing the face of
a miser. Having Benjamin sitting next to me eased that quite a
bit. Watching him kick his feet despite several attempts by his
father to make him stop put me at ease. Light up sneakers bobbing
about a stage filled with loafers and high heels certainly eased
the pressure on me.
	The ceremony seemed to run off into tangents. But as I was
losing concentration and focus, I heard the announcement that it
was time to see off the railroad's oldest still-fully-operational
diesel locomotive to its new home. The Master of Ceremonies, a
woman I wasn't familiar with, invited the boarding of crew. That
was my cue, I thought all of a sudden.
	I jumped out of my seat as the crew began to clap. Benjamin
hopped up too, his backpack over one shoulder and covered in
pictures of steam engines. The audience clapped louder with the
joining of the only heir of the Holden empire. In my mind, I made
the world distant save for me and Benjamin. I held my hand out to
him and smiled gently. Looking up at me with wonder, he placed
his little hand in mine and we walked towards the train.
	Ahead of us, the sliding door stood open, just up a small
ladder. And as we walked towards it, our backs to the crowd, I
had a strange feeling. A strange flush came over me, followed
quickly by dirty thoughts. I imagined the cabin, just for a
flash, being like approaching the bed. Like I was just a
teenager, moving forward knowing that I was going to break every
rule in the book with my new friend. Nerves came pounding back,
along with every awkward little fear from those times. Even as I
reminded myself in my head that I had vowed to myself that I
would never do something like that.
	When I should have been worrying about Gurta failing in front of
the audience, all I worried about was the smile on Ben's face.
	Ben looked up at me and must have seen my blushing cheeks. But
he didn't do anything but beam at me for getting to ride a train.
He was so trusting, so beautiful like that. I could get lost in
his eyes. And nearly did.
	And nearly walked straight into the engine. Luckily, my foot
caught it before my face did and I came to. I released Ben's hand
and ushered him to the ladder. The strides for his short legs
were too big without help, so I put a hand under his out-hanging
bottom. The gentle cordoroy was nice to the touch, but I was
already getting aroused at the very concept of touching him even
in this platonic way. I quickly followed, happy to keep the front
side of me away from the crowd.
	Cheers reached a crescendo as the two of us stood at the doorway
to the cabin, me strategically placing Ben in front of me. His
back was mere inches from bumping to a rising bulge in my
overalls. So I tried my best to keep him distant. After a minute
of waving, I pulled him in and slid the door closed. The cabin
was as I left it. I hurried to the controls to get the engine
ready.
	“What's a rocking chair doing here?” he asked.
	“Its a nice chair,” I replied. “Anyone say you can't have a
rocking chair in your train?”
	“Nope!” He laughed, finding it more funny than I did.
	I engaged everything and the train started to push. “Hurry, get
over here!” I said, waving Ben over. As soon as he was in arm's
reach, I grabbed him by the waist and pulled him up to my height
and unlatched the window. Sliding it open, I started waving. He
got the idea and started waving too. Gurta worked like a dream,
pulling from the station.
	“Hurry, Ben, blow that whistle!” I said, swinging him from the
window over to a metal chain hanging from the ceiling. Two sets
of fingers wrapped around it and yanked down as hard as possible,
calling forth a tremendous high howl somewhere behind them. As
the engine pushed, the sounds of the crowd disappeared. It was
just the two of us and a diesel train, pulling away from the
station. As he blew the whistle one more time, he turned to me.
Those eyes were so bright they could blind. Nothing could have
made Benjamin Holden happier.
	And because of that, I think I was pretty happy too.

	It took little time for us to get up to speed with so little
weight behind us. The rumble of the diesel engine felt familiar,
like a seaman with the rocking waves of the ocean. Gurta broke
the city lines, leading us into empty stretches of land populated
only by trees. The open window brought a breeze through the
cabin, a relief from the fumes and smell that built up in the
bunkhouse. Measurements were good. Gurta was running smoothly. I
let loose a sigh, all of my fears about the train's operation
gone.
	My attention could finally be brought back to Ben, who had
stumbled to the back wall for stability. While these trains often
came with seats for the operators, Gurta's had been missing for
some time, gone who knew where from being left unattended for so
many years. Hence why I had brought in the only free chair I
could find at the time for testing. Standing during operation
wasn't hard for me, but I hadn't counted on bringing someone so
uncertain on his feet as a child.
	“You ok?” I asked, turning back to my new found companion.
	“Yeah...” Ben said, pushing himself off the back of the cabin
with one hand, the other held out warily before him. “It shakes a
lot!”
	“Yes, it does.” I stood freely, letting my balance adjust with
the rocking. “Be careful about moving around a lot. Let it move
and keep your feet flat. You will get used to it.”
	Ben pushed off and stumbled towards me, but caught himself.
	“See, not so bad.” I smiled reassuringly. “Hold my hand over
here. I'll show you all the controls.”
	Another stumble brought him towards me. I quickly knelt and
caught him, one hand on each side of his ribcage. I held him
there for a few seconds, just feeling his size in my hands. If he
was too much smaller, I might have been able to tap my finger
tips together. “You good?”
	“Yeah...” he said, though his voice suggested uncertainty.
	I stayed knelt and let him use my shoulder for stability. One by
one, I pointed to each gauge and lever, explaining what they did
in the simplest of terms I could come up with. Ben stood with
rapt attention, absorbing each new piece of information about his
beloved machines. The sparkle that drove me wild hung in his
eyes, hiding in between shades of blue. “ As I explained, I
casually wrapped a hand around his waist and letting my hand
clutch at his belly. My thumb naturally stroked the material of
his Osh Kosh overalls, enjoying the texture. And the opportunity
to hold him.
	He didn't seem to mind the closeness. And neither did I, despite
all of my vows and fears.
	For the first few hours, the two of us found our stride. The
rocking chair, for example, was something we traded back and
forth with. We figured out storage options, picking the best
cabinets for my gear and the bit he brought as well, though most
of his things were train-related toys and books. While I adjusted
controls or we passed through a town, he settled down in the
chair or balanced on his tip toes to catch a glimpse of the cars
patiently waiting for us to pass. And when we had a stretch of
empty rail, I took up the chair while he practiced his balance
against the swaying of his vacation home. I happily watched him
wobble about the cab, learning to walk anew like a babe. There
was an almost parental pride in it.
	As I returned to the controls of the train during the passage of
a town, Ben joined me. “Am I a good relief crew?” he asked.
	I chuckled. “Well, you are pretty good company. That's a relief,
I guess. But a relief crew does more than sitting and watching
the engineer, you know!”
	“Like what?”
	“Well, it is a little different crew to crew. There are lots of
traditions, especially in the old days. Sometimes, the relief
crew takes over so the train can run through the night while the
engineer sleeps, for example.” My eyes didn't leave the window as
we passed a flag. I watched carefully as the train flew past a
road crossing.
	“But I don't know how to drive a train!” There was a bit of
disappointment in his voice, a mixture of whining and genuine
sadness.
	“Nope. But we aren't running all night either,” I said, finally
turning to him. “So, my relief crew doesn't have to do that.”
	“So, what do I do?”
	“There are plenty of ways you can give relief.” The words felt
awful coming out of my mouth, like out of a bad porno flick, even
though I knew Ben didn't understand the meaning behind them. I
wouldn't say that I was lying by making the suggestion that
members of relief crews sometimes found more fun ways to satisfy
the lead engineer. After all, back in the old days, operating a
train meant long periods of time without access to your wife. I
never found reference to it anywhere, but I had no doubt that it
happened. “Keeping me company for one, which you do well. Or
comfortable. Or just feeling good.”
	Ben nodded, as if deep in thought about it all.
	“You know, a lot of the work relief crews did were all secret or
in code, too. They kinda spoke a different language back then. So
what each relief crew did was hush hush.”
	“Oh. Like super top secret?”
	“Exactly like that, Ben. And they used code words to talk about
a lot of it. For example, sometimes, relief crews would go into
the passenger cars and sneak some beer up to the engineer. He
isn't supposed to drink that, you know. When he wanted it, he
would ask the crew to help him 'fuel the fire',” I said, making
air quotation marks. “So, if anyone asked what the crewman did,
he didn't have to lie, but people wouldn't know what he really
did.”
	“What are the other code words?”
	“Each crew had their own. There were all sorts. Others were like
'oiling the wheels', 'pushing coal', 'checking the pipes',
'polishing the smokestack', 'adjusting the clamps', 'cleaning the
pistons', 'blowing the whistle'...”
	“I like blowing the whistle!” Ben shouted happily.
	“So do I, buddy. I love it when you blow the whistle.” In my
pants, I throbbed. If only he knew what that one meant.
	“Are we going to have code words?”
	“Well, that depends. You only need code words if you are going
to take the relief crew oath and make sure your engineer's every
want and need is taken care of. Otherwise, you are just a
ride-along.”
	“Am not!” Ben said, stomping a foot. “I want to be the relief
crew.”
	“Alright, buddy. But first, you gotta swear the oath.”
	“What's the oath?” He was determined, so much so that his little
lips puckered with childish intensity.
	“Put your hand on your heart and repeat after me.”
	Ben put his hand in the center of his chest. I would have
considered correcting him if he didn't seem so certain of it.
	“I solemnly swear to do what it takes to get this train to its
destination. I will relieve my engineer no matter how hard. I
will trust and follow him to the end of the line. I will be
loyal. I will be strong. And I will never tell anyone the secrets
of the cabin.” For making that up on the spot, I thought it was
pretty good. And as Ben recited it back to me, the implications
sent sparks down my spine that settled at the bottom.
	“Congratulations, Ben! You are officially my relief crew.
Welcome to the crew.”

	I spent the next hour figuring out ways to get Ben used to his
duties. Mostly, I stayed at the controls and called him over for
a snack or a drink. Sometimes, I just took pleasure in requesting
hugs from him. Ben was getting used to sharing affection and
touching more and more. There was definitely a bond growing and
every new change I brought him about the journey tightened it. I
especially enjoyed the physical affection. My cock was hard most
of the time now. The words I laced into that vow kept running
through my head. “...no matter how hard.” And every hug tugged on
my pants, giving a little indirect stroke, something that only
stoked my drive for him even more.
	My mind danced with thoughts of his naked body on mine, with
only his cap and socks remaining. I thought about climbing up the
leg of his little overalls and teasing him. Or a glance of his
eyes up at me while his mouth was filled with my relief. Even
sitting him in my lap on the rocking chair riding my dick between
his legs...
	The reverie broke with a worried statement. “I have to go to the
bathroom.”
	I looked back down at Ben, whose knees tapped together and a
hand clutched at his crotch. His cheeks had turned a little red
and his lips became pouty. The instantaneous reaction was to
usher him to a bathroom, but Gurta had none. What had I planned
to do about that? Being a stable, but adventurous man, I had
planned on spraying my hose right out the door. Ben, however,
might just fly off if he tried it. I glanced up at the jugs and
bottles. Nothing empty there either.
	Outside, we were between towns. Nothing but empty fields and
another good sixty miles before I would need to touch the
controls. Looking back and forth between the door and Ben, I
decided to go for it. “Looks like you are going to go pee like
the biggest man in the world,” I said with a laugh.
	“Huh?”
	I took the hand not mashing his junk and led him to the door. A
look of concern was growing on Ben's face, but no time was given
to comfort it. Holding him tight, I slid the metal barrier away,
opening us up to the cool autumn wind whipping past us. Ben
latched onto my leg, but couldn't tear his eyes away from the
landscape zipping by. I knelt down beside him and pulled him off
long enough to get us eye to eye.
	“I'm scared,” Ben whimpered.
	“You only took the vow an hour ago and you are breaking it now?”
	His face contorted to annoyance. “Nut-uh!”
	“Yeah-huh. You said you would trust me to the end of the line,
remember? Now you are scared. Do you think I would let you fall
off the train?” I was nearly yelling at him over the wind and the
roar of the engine.
	“No, sir!” he shouted back, squinting.
	“Good. Here we go then.” With one arm tightly wrapped around his
waist, I inched Ben to the edge of the cabin floor, until the
tips of his shoes hung off of the side of our full-speed diesel
train. A burst of air whipped up around the door, poofing the
auburn crown into messy spikes and throwing Ben's head back. I
got closer, hanging my chin over his shoulder and pressing our
cheeks together. “Go ahead.”
	Ben reached down, but my arm was proving to be too big to let
him easily reach anything past it with such short arms. “I
can't!” he squeaked.
	I had a hard time controlling my pleasure with this fact. My
other arm came around him and fumbled around his front until I
found the fold hiding his zipper. I undid it and drove my hand
into the warm recesses of his overalls. Compared to the nippy
air, his pants were an oven. A shirt blocked me, but pushing that
away revealed the tight cotton underpants of a young boy and the
prizes to be hidden behind them. For a few seconds, I just
cradled the perfectly-wrapped collection, feeling the shape of a
nub and its accompanying marbles. Then I slid up, found the
waistband, and tugged it down and away.
	My hand encapsulated him, penis and balls all, in the center of
my palm. They were soft and plush, malleable. Encircling all of
him at the end of my hand, I took his willy in my thumb and
finger and pulled it away from his fly. Looking down, the sweet
little circumcised head, trapped between my fingers, almost
glowed pink. I happily stared at it, blushing just as pink
myself.
	“It is cold!” Ben said, again breaking my reverie.
	“Well, go ahead! Let it all out!”
	A focus came over the boy, the dedication that comes only from
having only learned to control these muscles a scant few years
before. But, all at once, I felt fluid pulsing through him and
leaping into the wind. Ben and I opened our eyes to see his pee
catching the light, almost shimmering before being left far
behind. As the boy emptied himself, I hugged myself tighter to
him, rubbing my cheek on his.
	The flow ended, but I couldn't help but stroke the tiny cocklet
a little. Ben looked at me strangely as I milked him dry as
gently as I could. My thumb teased at the underside of his little
shaft and urethra, calling out subtle twitches in him. I had
always had my doubts about the sexual responsiveness of a child
his age, but there was no denying the fact that Ben's little dick
inflated at my extra touch. What was once so easily turned and
twisted stood up on its own. When my fingers let him free, the
inch and a half bobbed gently on the wisking air. Without
stimulation or heat, though, it quickly shrunk back down.
	I tucked his cock back into his underwear and redid his fly. I
let my hand hang on his front for a few seconds before finally
retreating. Finally, before closing the door, I gave Ben a quick
peck on the cheek.
	“That was scary!” Ben said as I locked the door.
	“Just scary?” I asked.
	“Fun too!”
	“Good. I thought so too.” I nodded, then got an idea. “That's
our first code word, I think.”
	“What?”
	“'Draining the dipstick, we will call it.'”
	Ben gave me a wink. “Got it!”

	Having him like that was driving me nuts. I was raging hard ever
since. As guilty as I felt taking advantage of his needs like
that, it was a dream come true. And if he bought into it like I
set it up, no one would ever know and my dreams would come true.
Ben was so fucking cute it was overwhelming. The trust was so
complete, it seemed. I wanted to just stop the train and have my
way with him. Or switch lines and never give him back.
	I decided to just go as far as I could with Ben while I had him.
And I was going to start making it happen as quickly as possible.
	“Hey, Ben,” I began, focusing on the controls.
	Ben leaped up from the rocking chair and hurried to my side,
excited for a new task. “Yes sir!”
	“My tummy feels funny. Can you rub it for me?”
	In response, two excited hands landed squarely on my abs and
started rubbing in circles, pushing around what little fat and
flesh they could through the two layers blocking their way. Even
though Ben put no intention into it, his roaming turned me on.
Innocent as he was, it kept me hard.
	“That's nice, Ben,” I said, sighing. “Can you rub a bit lower?”
	He nodded, sliding down past my belly button. It seemed oddly
easy for him to explore when facing overalls. The fear of
crossing a waist band was non-existent. So he explored every
direction with his rubbing. Every once in a while, an errant hand
would find the tip of my cock. Every time he did, I would sigh
and compliment him on his rubbing. Bit by bit, he began to go
lower more often.
	“Oh buddy, right there,” I whispered when his palm rubbed across
the head of my stiff cock through the jeans.
	“Here?” he asked, stopping his hand on me and squeezing the
outline.
	“Yes. Work on that there...”
	Two kindergarten hands grasped my cock and started stroking it.
I let out a groan of pleasure. I looked down to see his face
intently staring at my crotch and working it carefully. My dick
was straining against the pressure of his boy paws on me and the
tight overalls keeping us separated. I gave up trying to stand on
my own as the pleasure took me, relying on one hand by the
controls to keep me up.
	“Is this good?” Ben asked, looking up to me expectantly while
jacking away at me through my pants.
	“It is great, Ben. Real great”
	“What is this thing?”
	“That's my cock,” I muttered, trying to stifle another moan.
	“What's that?”
	“Its what grown-ups call pee pees.”
	Ben thought on this a moment. “Its big...”
	“Yeah, it is. And when its big, it needs to be relieved.”
	The word turned on a light bulb in Ben's head. “How?”
	I brushed his hands away and unzipped my fly. I unceremoniously
threaded my cock and balls through the front of my boxers and out
of my jeans. My six-incher pointed lewdly forward, less than a
foot from his face, a bead of pre-cum on the tip. Ben just stared
at it wobbling gently in the cool air like it was the most
amazing invention he had yet come across.
	“Well?” I asked.
	Ben looked up, confused.
	“Get back to it, relief crewman.”
	Ben stared down my dick for a few more seconds before taking it
into his hands. “Its warm.”
	“And about to get warmer. Now polish that crankshaft.”
	Ben grinned, knowing he added a new code word to his book and
began to pump. His hands couldn't even get around my dick and he
needed both of them to jack even half of my shaft. I watched him
lean forward, almost bopping himself in the nose with each
downward stroke. My pre quickly was caught up in his hands,
lubricating my cock as he went.
	The whole thing was beyond belief. This beautiful little boy
gladly holding my dick, trying to relieve me. Inexperienced as he
was, the sheer fact that it was happening did half of the work
for him. As his arms pumped away at me, I whispered sweet
nothings to my boy, cheering him on. I was beyond thought, a
sweaty, lusty engineer with needs. And I would have them.
	As he pounded down on me, I stepped forward, feeling my sloppy
cock head slide up his cheek once, then twice. Ben tried to step
back, but he had nowhere to go but up against the console. Still,
he didn't stop. And stroke by stroke, I drew on his face with
clear juice. His face became slack with surprise and he slowed
down as the sticky fluid touched his lips. He looked up at me, as
if to ask if we were done.
	I took my cock up and steered it to his puffy, pink lips.
Slowly, I drew the head of my cock across them, applying a gloss
of pre. Light from the window flickered across his face, lighting
up his cheeks and lips like I had put glitter on them. Ben looked
up at me, past the engorged cock before him, to my face, all
flush red and half there. We were both a bit mesmerized by what
was happening. I doubted he understood what was going on anymore.
And I didn't much care in the moment.
	The tip of my cock gently laid on the ledge of his bottom lip.
With my other hand, I stroked his cheek gently. “You are doing an
amazing job, Ben. The best,” I said, a hint of pride in my voice.
“Now, it is time to blow that whistle.” Tucking a thumb under the
six year old boy's chin, I pulled his jaw down enough to part his
wet lips. Ben may not have understood what this relieved, but he
didn't resist as I slid myself into his open mouth.
	Warmth wrapped around the head of my dick, making me weak in the
knees. I began to furiously jack the rest of my shaft as I stared
down at those lips locked onto the end of me. At first, Ben
didn't do much of anything but let me rest in his mouth. But,
after more words of encouragement, his tongue began to lap at the
underside of my cock as it remained encased in his wet mouth.
Instinctively, I hunched in and out a bit, but tried to hold back
from tapping the back of his little throat.
	“Fuck, Ben,” I groaned, unable to keep the respectable demeanor
of an adult. As I held his cheek, I could feel his tongue
squirming, my cock thrusting, lewdly past his baby boy cheek. His
eyes were closed tight, not yet accustomed to the activity. I
remarked at the incredible image of a six year old boy dressed up
as a little train engineer, cap and all, with a man's dick
stretching his lips wide open.
	Pressure was building up. It took every ounce of willpower I had
not to close my eyes and howl.  My hand pounded away as the
kindergarten-aged boy's lips stroked and teased my flaring dick.
A part of me wanted to warn him, but I couldn't get any words
out. I just let out a gutteral moan and released.
	I didn't hear Ben cough as the first volley blasted into the
back of his throat. I didn't try to to stop him from pulling off
of me to catch his breath. I didn't stop jacking myself off as
the second and third shots took off, hitting his chin and then
splattering across the shirt under his overalls. And as the rest
dribbled across my hand, I didn't stop looking at Ben wetness
from his eyes.
	Stepping back, I dropped to the cab floor, bathing in my
afterglow. Ben, finally freed from the console, stumbled after
me. Little hands wiped at his bright-red, raw face, trying to
clear the syrupy juices that covered him. His shirt had large
spots on it, having already absorbed the last of my essence. On
his face, a mixture of fear, uncertainty, and worry.
	“Ben...” I started, regaining my capacity for speech.
	“I...”
	“You did great, Ben. I'm sorry I scared you like that.”
	The little engineer shuffled over, standing in between my
outstretched legs. “It was a lot.”
	“I know, buddy. But you did it better than anyone else I ever
saw.” My mind was racing. I hadn't considered his emotions maybe
making him change his mind. If I didn't sooth him somehow, my
life, I knew, was over.
	“...really?” Ben seemed doubtful.
	“You bet.” I hooked the sides of his overalls and dragged him
into my lap, laying him on top of my still half-erect cock. I
hugged him tight, kept his face close to mine. “Ben, you are the
best relief crew ever. I don't know what I would have done
without you. Are you ok?”
	Ben nodded, though he didn't seem too convinced of the fact.
	My mind reeled. I needed to find a way to make it better, to
boost his spirits some. Candy? Lunch? Play games? I wasn't a
child specialist. Would he like it if I returned the favor
somehow? Could a little boy feel an orgasm like an adult could?
Or find satisfaction in being played with like that? I wasn't
sure that it was worth the risk. Despite the fact that Ben was
laying across my dick, holding him close seemed somehow
appropriate.
	So I sat there on the cabin floor, stroking his back with his
face buried in my chest. And Ben did relax. Had I imagined this
moment on my own, alone in my room, I might have expected to be
groping him with another raging hard on. But I wasn't and didn't.
I felt somehow fatherly, just warm knowing that he was comforted
like this. And though my hand did find his bottom once or twice,
I put no desire into it.

	Together, Ben and I rested in each other's arms. My worry about
him quickly dissolved when I saw him smile again, snuggled into
my shoulder. That's when I knew that it was all going to be
alright. Who knew if I was ever going to get anything like that
out of him again, but I thought at least I would get to be able
to continue to touch him, since that hadn't become an issue.
Besides, he was just too cute to keep my hands off of.
	
End of Part I

--Don't forget to drop me an email and tell me what you thought!
If you want to see the rest of the story, let me know and I will
keep writing!--

Author's Notes: What was once just a piece designed to let me
undress a boy in Osh Kosh overalls turned a lot bigger! I am
fairly certain I will be writing at least a part 2 to this. I
just wanted a place to stop to post something of it. Hopefully,
positive responses?