Boy Power House
folder
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
3,423
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
3,423
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction about oral & anal sex between men and young boys. The characters, locations & incidents are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Chapter 2
©2007 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
.oOo.
Chapter 2
Date: Saturday, August 20, 2005
Place: McDonalds, Brewster, New York
It's warm, so Greg and Mike decide to sit at one of the outdoor tables. "OK, Nelson," Greg says with assurance, "you can get me a Big Mac Value Meal, with a coke, and Supersize it." Nelson nods and turns to Mike for his order.
"The same, no, make mine a Quarter Pounder, no a Big'n'Tasty."
"Shit, Mike, you go through this every week. Make up your mind already. You're keeping Nelson waiting." But of course, Nelson is patience personified. He is willing to wait all day if need be to learn how he can please the two eleven-year olds. The hairdresser wasn't so long-suffering earlier when Mike kept changing his mind about his haircut.
"OK, a Quarter Pounder with Cheese, no, no cheese, yes, cheese. Yep, that's my final answer. Oh, and supersize mine too." Nelson is still waiting. "Oh, yeah, my drink, I'll have a coke too, no, a lemonade, no, a milkshake, a chocolate milkshake. Yep, that's what I want today." Nelson trots inside to get the boys' orders, smiling broadly. In all his 45 years, he's never been happier.
"Fuck, you do that on purpose, don't you, Mike."
"Do what?" But Mike's alligator smile tells Greg he's right, and he punches Mike's arm. "Hey, watch it. That's my pitching arm." The two boys sit and wait, soaking in the sunshine and laughing about the campfire the other night when Hump told all those jokes. "Too bad, Hump had to go back to college. I miss him and Jack." The boys barely notice the family of six occupying another outdoor table. When Nelson comes back with the tray, though, he definitely takes note of the group, a man, woman, one girl, and three boys, two of whom don't look happy. Boys should never be unhappy, he thinks to himself. Why shouldn't every boy be able to laugh like Greg and Mike here? He smiles as he watches his two angels joking with each other, their hair freshly cut and styled, now ready to dig into their supersize meals.
He sets the sandwich, fries, and drink in front of each of his charges, along with napkins, several little cups of ketchup, and the salt packs he knows Mike will want. Then he sits, with no lunch himself, but plenty to feast his eyes on. He watches Greg munching his burger while making a Junga stack from his fries, then carefully remove one and dunk it in the ketchup, open his mouth, paint a red circle on his tongue, purse his lips about the potato rod and swoop it in with a giggle. Meanwhile Mike is salting his fries, his burger, and pretending to salt his shake as well with a mischievous little snicker. Trying to laugh and drink simultaneously, Mike soon has milkshake bubbling out of his nostrils.
"Nelson, my napkin blew away." Nelson retrieves it, discards it, and gets a replacement from inside.
"Nelson, I drank all my soda." Nelson again goes inside for a refill. Throughout the meal, he watches them, amazed at all the sugar, grease and sodium they can consume and still maintain those perfect boy bodies. But then he knows how much exercise they've been getting this summer, swimming, running, playing ball with all the other boys, the ten he now thinks of as his boys. He breathes a silent prayer to whatever powers had brought him to this place in his life where he could buy them lunch and haircuts, and drive them, and pick up after them, and ...
Their pleasant lunch is interrupted by sudden noise from the other table. The three turn to see the man hitting one of the boys there and yelling at him, "You filthy thief. Stealing from us again. You and your Goddamn brother here." He smacks both lads. One looks about the same age as Mike and Greg; the other a few years younger. Both are scrawny. The other two children are around six or seven and overweight. "C'mon kids we're going home. These two can walk." The man, woman, girl and little boy stand up, taking the rest of their drinks and burgers and pile into the car, the two children laughing in the back seat. As the car exits the parking lot, Greg, Mike and Nelson all stand up and head for the two sad waifs. The younger one is so short, they don't realize he isn't sitting down. The two are sharing a small burger, one from the 99 cent menu, and whimpering.
"Nelson, two more value meals quick." Nelson doesn't wait for Greg to give the details. He runs inside. He knows what to order. "What's the matter kids? Your Dad get on your case about something?"
"He ain't our Dad!!" the older one protests. "Our Dad was nice. Both our parents was nice." Hearing mention of their parents, the younger boy bursts into tears. "They got killed in a car accident and now we gotta live with foster parents and they hate us and we hate them."
.oOo.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
.oOo.
Chapter 2
Date: Saturday, August 20, 2005
Place: McDonalds, Brewster, New York
It's warm, so Greg and Mike decide to sit at one of the outdoor tables. "OK, Nelson," Greg says with assurance, "you can get me a Big Mac Value Meal, with a coke, and Supersize it." Nelson nods and turns to Mike for his order.
"The same, no, make mine a Quarter Pounder, no a Big'n'Tasty."
"Shit, Mike, you go through this every week. Make up your mind already. You're keeping Nelson waiting." But of course, Nelson is patience personified. He is willing to wait all day if need be to learn how he can please the two eleven-year olds. The hairdresser wasn't so long-suffering earlier when Mike kept changing his mind about his haircut.
"OK, a Quarter Pounder with Cheese, no, no cheese, yes, cheese. Yep, that's my final answer. Oh, and supersize mine too." Nelson is still waiting. "Oh, yeah, my drink, I'll have a coke too, no, a lemonade, no, a milkshake, a chocolate milkshake. Yep, that's what I want today." Nelson trots inside to get the boys' orders, smiling broadly. In all his 45 years, he's never been happier.
"Fuck, you do that on purpose, don't you, Mike."
"Do what?" But Mike's alligator smile tells Greg he's right, and he punches Mike's arm. "Hey, watch it. That's my pitching arm." The two boys sit and wait, soaking in the sunshine and laughing about the campfire the other night when Hump told all those jokes. "Too bad, Hump had to go back to college. I miss him and Jack." The boys barely notice the family of six occupying another outdoor table. When Nelson comes back with the tray, though, he definitely takes note of the group, a man, woman, one girl, and three boys, two of whom don't look happy. Boys should never be unhappy, he thinks to himself. Why shouldn't every boy be able to laugh like Greg and Mike here? He smiles as he watches his two angels joking with each other, their hair freshly cut and styled, now ready to dig into their supersize meals.
He sets the sandwich, fries, and drink in front of each of his charges, along with napkins, several little cups of ketchup, and the salt packs he knows Mike will want. Then he sits, with no lunch himself, but plenty to feast his eyes on. He watches Greg munching his burger while making a Junga stack from his fries, then carefully remove one and dunk it in the ketchup, open his mouth, paint a red circle on his tongue, purse his lips about the potato rod and swoop it in with a giggle. Meanwhile Mike is salting his fries, his burger, and pretending to salt his shake as well with a mischievous little snicker. Trying to laugh and drink simultaneously, Mike soon has milkshake bubbling out of his nostrils.
"Nelson, my napkin blew away." Nelson retrieves it, discards it, and gets a replacement from inside.
"Nelson, I drank all my soda." Nelson again goes inside for a refill. Throughout the meal, he watches them, amazed at all the sugar, grease and sodium they can consume and still maintain those perfect boy bodies. But then he knows how much exercise they've been getting this summer, swimming, running, playing ball with all the other boys, the ten he now thinks of as his boys. He breathes a silent prayer to whatever powers had brought him to this place in his life where he could buy them lunch and haircuts, and drive them, and pick up after them, and ...
Their pleasant lunch is interrupted by sudden noise from the other table. The three turn to see the man hitting one of the boys there and yelling at him, "You filthy thief. Stealing from us again. You and your Goddamn brother here." He smacks both lads. One looks about the same age as Mike and Greg; the other a few years younger. Both are scrawny. The other two children are around six or seven and overweight. "C'mon kids we're going home. These two can walk." The man, woman, girl and little boy stand up, taking the rest of their drinks and burgers and pile into the car, the two children laughing in the back seat. As the car exits the parking lot, Greg, Mike and Nelson all stand up and head for the two sad waifs. The younger one is so short, they don't realize he isn't sitting down. The two are sharing a small burger, one from the 99 cent menu, and whimpering.
"Nelson, two more value meals quick." Nelson doesn't wait for Greg to give the details. He runs inside. He knows what to order. "What's the matter kids? Your Dad get on your case about something?"
"He ain't our Dad!!" the older one protests. "Our Dad was nice. Both our parents was nice." Hearing mention of their parents, the younger boy bursts into tears. "They got killed in a car accident and now we gotta live with foster parents and they hate us and we hate them."
.oOo.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.