Chapter 1

The Turboway stopped abruptly, snapping Paul Mathhews out of his daze. Around the car the other passengers seemed unfazed, though slightly annoyed. This was becoming yet another one of the daily trials of living in the city... along with crime, pollution, and indifference, unscheduled stops of the Turboway were now commonplace. Paul looked out the window, but could see only darkness, and his own reflection.

"Probably damn protesters again", mumbled a well dressed businessman in the seat next to Paul.

Paul looked to the man, unsure if the comment was directly posed to him or if it was just meant for the whole car. Paul shrugged a 'what are you going to do?' shrug at the man and looked around absently. Finally, after about five minutes, an intercom broke the uneasy silence of the car.

"TURBOWAY CAR 73 WILL RETURN TO STATION 54, DUE TO... UNFORSEEN COMPLICATIONS WITH THE TRACK AT STATION 55...", the cold mechanical voice uttered, "ALTERNATE TRANSPORTATION WILL BE PROVIDED AT THAT POINT. THAT IS ALL."

The car erupted into a low chorus of grumbling and complaining, and Paul checked his watch. 0843. Great... he'd be late for school again. It seemed to Paul that apparently the School System didn't know, or care, about the problems with the Turboways. Nope, regardless of his excuse he'd be put on work detention. Again. Paul was thinking of how much he hated work detention when the car lurched back into motion, back towards the previous station. The man next to him sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Damn protesters... should just take the whole lot and put the up against the wall...", he said, and Paul was sure that this time his comment was directed at no one in particular.

As the car excellerated Paul looked out the window, at the rapidly passing darkness. He looked at his watch again, and sighed...

As he expected the Attendance Administrator didn't care that the Turboway had been the cause of his lateness, and Paul was given one day of work detention. He figured he had got off pretty easily, actually, considering the number of times he'd been late. Still, one day of work detention was more than enough to put him in a foul mood for the rest of the day.

He made his way along to his first class, History. His teacher, Mr. Billings, seemed uninterested when Paul handed him the admittance card. Mr. Billings swept the card through the reader next to his terminal, checked to see that everything was okay, and looked to Paul for a moment.

"Well... don't just stand there like an idiot, Matthews, sit down!" he said, with obvious dislike in his voice.

Paul knew that Billings did not like him. You see, Mr. Billings was Head Coach of the football team at School System Centre #21, and didn't care for students that didn't fit his particular brand of "macho". Paul was nowhere near Billings ideal of a man... slim build, shorter than average, fair skinned. The teacher had made numerous allusions to Paul's shortcomings, both to him privately and in front of class. That had always been a source of embarrasment for Paul, and entertainment for the 'jocks' in the class.

Mr. Billings returned to the lesson - yet more information on "The Reformation and It's Impact on Our Society - and Paul's mind drifted. This was definitely shaping out to be a horrible day. A horrible day, Paul thought, like so many others...

After school Paul had an uneventful Turboway ride home, and was greeted by his Mother when he opened the front door.

"School called..." she said, obviously dismayed, "Another day of Work Detention? Your Father will be furious!"

Paul shrugged absently, and looked away, "It was the damn Turboway..."

"Paul... I don't care what your excuse is, and don't use language like that. The point is that you have another day of Work Detention..." his Mother continued. Paul shrugged again, frustrated. "Well... go to your room and wash up, your Father will be home soon and supper is almost ready."

Paul carried his schoolbag upstairs to his room and washed up. When he was done slumped down onto his bed, deciding to watch the television until his Father got home rather than listen to his Mother complain even more. He clicked the screen on and turned to the News channel. A rock-jawed announcer began to spew out the days events...

"Further developments in the Turboway Station #55 malfunction today... Police are blaming Protestors, who apparently hacked into the Turboway mainframe and shut the station down..."

Gee, Paul thought, I wonder if the Attendance Administrator watches the News...

"There should be no concern, however, as the Police Anti-Hacking Unit has traced the source of the illegal activity. In other stories, a major success for our forces in the Southwestern Continent War... an entire division of enemy forces were destroyed as..."

The War. It had gone on as long as Paul could remember. If it wasn't the Southwestern Continent it was the Eastern Allianance, or the Central Continent... it didn't seem to matter. There was always a war, just as there was always crime, pollution, and, as it now seemed, there were always Turboway interruptions.

He was almost drifting into sleep when he heard his Father come home. Through supper he absently listened to his Father's lectures on responsibility, on how _he_ had never done a day of work detention when _he_ was in school, on the Football trophies, on everything. When it finally ended Paul excused himself to his room. His Father mumbled something and nodded.

As he closed his bedroom door Paul looked around his room, and sighed. Everything in life seemed to be going wrong. He looked at his desk, and his history lesson disc stared back at him. Printed on the disk was "The Reformation, Chapters 5-8". He moaned at the thought of homework - today had been crappy enough. He thought for a second, and threw his t-shirt over the disk. Why bother?, he thought, I'll be on Work Detention tommorow anyway. He layed down on his bed, and closed his eyes...

Paul was awakened by the loud buzzer of his alarm. He looked at the display... 0500. On a normal school day he wouldn't have to wake up until 0730, but the today Work Detention vehicle would be by to pick him up at 0530. He ambled out of bed, and quietly slipped down to the kitchen to have some breakfast. His parents were still sleeping when he shut the door behind him.

The Work Detention vehicle soundlessly glided up in front of his house, and he walked to the rear entrance. He had been through this before, so he knew the routine. He swiped his ID card through the reader, and put his thumb down on the scanner. The Supervisor gruffly nodded that everything was okay, and handed him coveralls. He quickly slipped them over his clothing and took a seat. There were already six other boys aboard, and after him there would be one more to complete the unit at eight. The vehicle started again, and Paul closed his eyes, hoping that the day would end soon.

As the vehicle stopped again, for the last boy, Paul looked to the rear door. His breath caught, and he shuddered. Well, I thought this day couldn't get any worse, he mused, but it just did. Getting into the vehicle was Tom Renalds, one of the jocks from Mr. Billings' football team. Tom had harassed Paul many times at school, once even giving him a black eye for no particular reason.

After completing the sign-in routine and pulling on his coveralls Tom took the last seat - next to Paul.

"Well, well, look who we have here... Ms. Matthews", he mumbled to Paul, who tried to ignore him, "I thought only boys were put on work detention... not cocksucking pussies like you..."

As Tom chuckled to himself the Supervisor looked over. "Shut up," he said, "No talking allowed..."

Tom gave a look to the Supervisor, but seeing his tazerstick he tought better of it. Instead, he turned his sneer to Paul, and wordlessly communicated his intentions...

The Work Detention crew eventually reached their destination, Turboway Station #23. They were told their assignment - cleaning of the

Turboway shafts and passenger areas, and Paul figured that maybe it wouldn't be quite so bad. Sure, he'd get dirty, but he'd done much worse on Work Detention. The day was brightening slightly when he and Tom were paired as work partners.

Tom had voiced protest at being paired with a 'weakling', but the Supervisor told him to shut up and do what he was told. Their first job was to take a long thick hose and wash out the northbound Turboway shaft. Turbos were scheduled around these cleaning periods, but Paul still didn't like the idea of going into those dark tunnels, espescially with Tom.

They carried the heavy hose into the tunnel, Tom periodocally complaining to Paul to 'pick up the slack.' Finally they reached their destination, a few hundred metres into the tube, and Paul turned the hose on. They would normally take turns directing the hose and monitoring pressure, but Tom figured Paul didn't have the strength to hold the hose still. Fine, Paul thought, fuck you...

As he washed down the walls, Tom began to talk. "Hey pussy, how come you like sucking cocks so much?" He laughed as Paul ignored him, but continued. "I guess you wish you were a chick, huh pussy? Then you could suck all the cocks in the world, and no one would care... and you could take big cocks into your hole and love it. You want to, don't you?"

Paul ignored him. Tom finished cleaning the section and Paul turned the water off. Paul picked up the pressure unit and started to go. "Better get moving..." he said, nervously.

Tom's hand grabbed his shoulder, and spun him around, pinning him against the Turboshaft wall. "Not so quick, pussy... don't you get all hot and horny being down here with a _real_ man? I bet you're thinking about sucking my cock right now, aren't you?"

Paul started, "Tom, I think..."

"Shut up!", warned Tom, "You think you'd like to suck my cock, right? So tonight when you put on your panties and pretty dress alone in your room you can feel like a _real_ woman..."

"Tom, let's be sensible, there's work to do..."

"Say it, pussy. Say you want to be a girl, so you can suck big cocks... SAY IT!"

"Tom..."

"Okay, if you can't say it, do it..."

Tom was reaching into his coveralls, and Paul was terrified. He knew Tom was nuts, but not like this. Tom pushed Paul's head to his groin, and unleashed his stiffening prick. "It's okay," he said, "I know you want it. It'll be our little secret, pussy..."

Paul was staring at Tom's erection, feeling Tom push his head closer when a shout came from down the shaft. It was the supervisor...

"What the hell is going on here... I want you two fucks back to work NOW!" The Supervisor was still around a bend, and hadn't seen what was going on.

Tom quickly let go of Paul, and shoved his dick back into his pants. "Sorry, Sir", he called, "This weakling little fuck is slowing me down..."

Paul stood, trying to regain his composure. The Supervisor was not close enough to see yet, though his flashlight made shadows on the wall.

"Well anyway, get your asses back to work", he called, and turned back.

Tom looked to Paul, and winked, "Well... I guess you'll have to wait to get your cherry popped, huh pussy?"

He laughed as they collected the hose and went back down the shaft to the next section.

Luckily for Paul the rest of the shaft cleaning was completed uneventfully. And the cleaning of the passenger areas was done in four man crews, under the watch of the supervisor, so Paul didn't feel quite so threatened by Tom. The day went by surprisingly quick, and soon he was handing in his coveralls and receiving his "Work Completed" form at the Detention vehicle. He turned and walked back into the Turboway station... Work Detention made sure you got to the job on time, but when it was done you had to find your _own_ way home. He sighed relief as he noticed Tom walking the other way, toward some other destination.

Paul stood among the busy rush-hour crowds, waiting for the next train. He casually observed himself in a mirrored wall by the track, and noticed just how dirty he was. The coveralls had prevented the worst of it, but his pants were probably ruined.

He stood musing about how dirty he was and how his Mom would have a fit over the ruined pants when he saw the woman. Through the crowd he saw her, at first in the corner of his eye, but he quickly turned to look. She was beautiful... a few years older than his seventeen with long curled golden hair, eyes that blazed a blue fire, and a face that was both youthful and mature. Something else, too, though Paul could not put his finger on it. Concern? Trouble? He wasn't sure.

She wore a conservative grey business suit, though on her it seemed more sexy than anything he'd ever seen. Hmmn, he thought, she must be a secretary at one of the Corporations downtown. It struck Paul odd that she was carrying an attache... he'd only seen business men carry them. And there weren't any business women he knew of...