How to Create a Fuckboy

One cold morning in March while Fuckboy was at school, El Greco and I were driving around hunting film locations. We'd stopped at a realtor to ask about available houses to buy, when in reality we were only looking for a place to rent for a day.

One house really caught my eye. It was a large raised ranch that had been on the market for a long time. They just couldn't find a buyer in this economy. On the main floor were a living room, dining room, separate kitchen, and four bedrooms. The master bedroom had its own bath. The others were generous in size and there was another full bath to share. The basement had a two-car garage, a laundry room, a storage area, and yet another tiny bedroom, and a small bathroom with a shower. That bedroom had a sliding door that opened on to a patio by an in-the-ground pool. The house sat on six secluded acres.

El Greco was impressed as well. "This place has some real possibilities." He was making a square with his thumbs and index fingers picturing how the different parts of the house would look on film.

As we drove away, he said, "You were awfully quiet. Don't you agree it would make a good location?"

"No, my friend. I don't think so. I think it would make a good home." I was already picturing Fuckboy and myself in the master bedroom, with another bedroom devoted to fucking clients. That way, I wouldn't have to wait any longer for the last client to leave to get in my own bedroom. A third bedroom could become my office. The one in the basement would be perfect for the bitch. Keep her out of our hair.

We drove back to the agent and I made a lowball offer to give me some wiggle room. She called the next day that the seller surprisingly accepted it. Must have been desperate to get rid of it. Then I wondered if I could get a mortgage as an "indpendent film producer." But the bank had a record of my steady deposits for nearly a year and approved the loan, as long as I was willing to put up enough cash for a 30% down payment. That drew my account pretty low, and now I wondered if I could really make the monthly payments. I took a look at our profits from the movie, from the still photos as well as the hours spent with clients. If I could somehow expand those business hours, I should be able to manage the new expense and begin to rebuild the nestegg. As to how to find the time, the answer seemed obvious.

On April 30, exactly one year after I moved with Fuckboy and the bitch, I went to the bank and signed the contract. We scheduled the closing for the middle of July.

At the end of May, the bitch gave the landlord two months notice. We would be out August 1st. The lease gave them the right to show my apartment to potential renters while we still lived there which was pretty awkward and put a real dent in our client schedule. Especially at a time when the business needed all the cash it could get.

Since the house was unoccupied, the owner said he didn't mind if I began making improvements prior to closing. I hired Fyodor to decorate the whole interior. We had a lot of rooms to fill and the furniture from our small apartment wasn't going to go very far. He put the crappy stuff down in her basement hole. However, I insisted the notorious coffee table had to stay in the living room to remind us of that glorious night Fuckboy lost his virginity. Fyodor and I chose a cowboy motif for the Fucking Room. We wanted to remind the clients they were fucking a nine-year old boy. In the master bathroom I had a bidet installed so Fuckboy could give his asshole a quick spritz in between clients. In the laundry room downstairs I installed an institutional machine and dryer. Of course, the bitch would have very few clothes to wash, but there would be dozens of sheets to keep clean. I had a satellite dish installed on the roof to receive an internet signal, and installed a new computer in my office. Most of these improvements I could justify as legitimate business expenses.

On June 19th, as we lay in bed, Fuckboy wasn't very sleepy. The next day would be his last in school. "After we move, I hope I like my new school, Sir. I'm gonna miss my friends. And I won't see Mr. Marks no more after school."

"Well, Fuckboy, I've been thinking a lot about your schooling and I've made a decision."

"What's that, Sir?"

"I think it would be better if you were homeschooled. I'm going to give you your lessons each morning after breakfast. By lunch, you'll be all finished, even with homework."

"Wow! You can teach me all those different things, Sir?"

"Your teacher now teaches you all different subjects. Of course I can."

"I gots a different teacher for Music."

"The bitch can play the piano. We can let her teach your music lessons."

"And Art?"

"El Greco."

"Yippee!! Oh, I forgot. What about gym?"

"We'll get Mr. Marks to come here on Tuesday and Thursday after his school and give you private lessons, just like he does now."

"Wow! Cool!"

"You're going to have to work real hard. I won't let you goof off like your teacher does now. You'll have lots of tests and reports and I won't tolerate inferior work."

"No Sir. Uh Sir?"

"Yes Fuckboy?"

"I'm still gonna miss my friends."

"I thought all our clients were your friends."

"Well, yes Sir. They is. But well you know. Little kids my age. Kids I play with at recess and talk with behind the teacher's back. You know."

"Yeah I know." I thought again about my gang back in high school. "Let me think. What if you joined the Cub Scouts?"

"Really, Sir?"

"Sure. Then you'd have friends your own age."

"Cool."

We moved at the end of July. On Saturday, August 2, we held a housewarming for our most important clients. The bitch made pigs-in-blankets and buffalo wings. Fuckboy wearing only cowboy boots greeted each guest when he arrived, handed him a cold beer or a shot of whiskey, and let him fondle and kiss him until the doorbell rang again. After they were all there and in a good party move, the pants began to come off. Since Fuckboy was the only bottom at this party, he was kept very busy sucking and rimming and giving his body to all their groping hands. At one point, he pulled off his boots, ran outside and jumped into the pool, with a happy parade of clients in tow. In the closing hours, he brought all the clients into the new Fucking Room and lay down on his new bed with its wagon wheel headboard, a ten gallon hat propped on one bedpost. I passed out the condoms, and one by one, each man took his turn fucking the nine-year old while the others waited exhibiting remarkable restraint. As soon as one cock pulled out of the young asshole, the next was primed and ready to shove right in. Cum was flowing like the Rio Grande.

Next: The Scoutmaster