How to Create a Fuckboy
folder
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
32
Views:
13,618
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
32
Views:
13,618
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction about a man who uses his nephew 8 for child prostitution. The characters, locations & incidents are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coinciden
Chapter 21 - Peter Pan
In school, Fuckboy thrived on the personal attention he was now getting from me and his other teachers. It's great when you can hire private tutors for various subjects and they all pay you instead of charging for their service. Doc pitched in to give Fuckboy some biology lessons. I kept assigning him to write papers on different topics. He had his own computer to do research online and also to word process the papers. He also did creative writing for English class. I could see he inherited my writing skills. I insisted on proper English and grammar. I also made him learn a new word each day.
As busy as we were homeschooling, he was always ready to take clients after lunch. The monthly costs of our home were adding up and these afternoon appointments were necessary to meet our expenses. Two afternoons, Mr. Marks stopped by so the boy could shoot some hoops, practice swinging a bat or a tennis racket, go running around the grounds, and do situps and pushups. He was developing an even more beautiful body.
Shortly after New Year's, El Greco called. He was thrilled to hear how well Sven's film was selling. "We'll have to make a sequel real soon."
"So, when is Fuckboy going to see you, El Greco? He has some drawings he wants to show you. And of course, he misses your fucks."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. He told me my cock is the best of them all, ha ha. Better than yours!" We both laughed. "Tell him, I'm sorry, but I got a gig. For the next few weeks, I'll be tied up doing the makeup at the Civic Center."
"What's the show?"
"Peter Pan. I had to buy a lot of green face paint, ha ha! Say, isn't the boy's birthday coming up?"
"Yep, February 10. He'll be turning 10. Double digits already. Can you believe it?"
"Hell, Let me get you two free passes. You'll both love the show!"
The Civic Center auditorium holds 5000, and when the play was over, everyone headed for the parking lot at once. It was stop and go for several blocks. As we crept along the city blocks, I saw small groups of night ladies plying their trade. I thought how fuckin lucky the bitch was compared to these hard working girls. I realized some of them were probably struggling to support kids at home. If my sister had to hustle for her tricks like them, she'd really know what work was. Not that she could possibly compete with these teenagers anyway. I wondered if Fuckboy could tell the difference between the GG's and the Drags. But when I glanced over at him, he was absorbed in the pictures in his playbill.
On some corners I saw the bois, sixteen, fifteen, fourteen, perhaps younger, in their butt hugging shorts. They reminded me of the pussyboys I used to do in school. I wondered what it might be like to hire one of them, but I had never had to pay for sex in my life! I had the best little ass in the world sitting beside me. We turned on to the highway and I could finally get up to speed. I took my right hand off the wheel, put it around Fuckboy's shoulder, and began talking about the play.
He was in high spirits. He was now swinging the rubber cutlass he bought. He loved the show. We both did. He asked, "How did they fly like that?" even though I'm sure he could see the cables. But that's the magic of the theater; it forces you to ignore the evidence of your own eyes and believe the fantasy. It had been a top drawer production. I popped the souvenir CD into the car's player. Fuckboy has a lousy singing voice, can't carry a tune in a bucket, but nonetheless he sang lustily and remembered a hell of a lot of the lyrics:
...I won't grow up. I don't want to wear a tie.
...And a serious expression in the middle of July.
...I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up
...Not me, Not I, Not me! So there!
...Anyone who wants to try and make me turn into a man,
...Catch me if you can.
...I won't grow up. Not a penny will I pinch.
...I will never grow a mustache,
...or a fraction of an inch.
...'Cause growing up is awfuller
...Than all the awful things that ever were.
...I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up,
...No sir, Not I, Not me, So there!
...I won't grow up! I will never even try.
...I will do what Uncle tells me
...And I'll never ask him why
...I won't grow up! No, I promise that I won't
...I will stay a boy forever.
...I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up!
"Oh, Fuckboy. That makes me so fuckin happy! I don't want you to ever grow up!! Please, please, stay a little boy forever and ever!!"
"I will, Sir. I fuckin promise!"
After we stripped for bed, I put "I'm Flying" on the CD player. As Fuckboy sucked my cock I whispered, "First I must blow the fairy dust on you!" He giggled a little, but didn't stop sucking. As the music grew in intensity, I lay down and he climbed on to my pole, smiling at me. There was a lull in the music and I whispered, "Now think lovely thoughts." On the recording, we heard the actors saying, Fishing, Summer, Flowers, and Christmas, but Fuckboy and I just kept repeating the loveliest thought of all: Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, as I held his hips and he started riding up and down. The music grew again and our sex kept pace. Fuckboy started shouting his own rendition of the lyrics, "Fuck, I'm flying! Fuck, out of sight! Fuck, Higher, Higher, Higher! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" The CD turned off, the room was still for a brief moment, then BAM my cock spat out the final coda: whizzing through a cloud, I'm so proud! Never Land is near. I'm about to disappear. I'm flying!
In my line of work, I'm understandably fairly cautious around people connected with the law. I keep my distance from drug dealers. I don't gamble my hard-earned money. I make sure I never get even a parking ticket. The last thing I need is the fuzz snooping around my place.
So you can appreciate my wariness when two days after Fuckboy's tenth birthday, I got a call from a Mr. Steiner, a lawyer in Omaha. He asked if he was speaking to Mr. Thorndike. I said yes. He asked if I knew a Mehitable McTavish. I almost cracked up. Who would name their kid Mehitable? But I told him no. He repeated the question using her full name Mehitable Thorndike McTavish. He said he understood Mehitable's mother and my father were siblings. I realized he had me confused with my old man, whose name I inherited. I was relieved. Whatever trouble this was, it involved Dad, not me.
"Unfortunately my father is deceased. Passed away about five years ago, bless his soul. Mom is gone now as well. Fortunately, I have my sister and my nephew for comfort. I remember how Dad often spoke fondly of his Cousin Hitty. Please give her our regards."
"Oh, unfortunately, Mehitable too has passed on. Three months ago."
"I'm so sorry," I lied.
"Yes, and her husband predeceased her by three years."
"Uhm, I'm sorry about that also. It was very kind of you to look me up to tell me, Mr. Steiner. I'll be sure to have flowers delivered to her grave."
"Well, Sir, there's a more important reason I called." I was not surprised. "You see, you and your sister would be Mehitable's first cousins once removed."
"If you say so."
"She only has one living heir."
"Oh?"
"Her estate is not extensive but her husband was a conservative investor so it has not lost too much value in the recent economic downturn."
"I see. Uhm, who is the heir?"
"A son, whom she had later in life. He's now age five. The entire estate is being held in trust for him. However, her will stated her desire that her son grow up with family if at all possible. I know this would be a lot to ask, but if you or your sister could adopt Jerome and manage his trust fund, I'm sure Mehitable, your Aunt Hitty, would be very pleased."
"Jerome you said."
"Well, everyone calls him Jerry."
"He's five you said."
"And the brightest, cutest little boy you would ever care to meet. I'd like to wrap this up. I'd like to catch a flight next Friday, the 20th, and bring Jerry to meet you. I've got a lot of papers to bring as well."
"You have no idea how thrilled I am with this news, Mr. Steiner. My family will be so excited when I tell them. I'm so looking forward to meeting Jerry." I wasn't lying any more!
"Oh, just one more thing. I'll be bringing along a Nebraska social worker. It's a mere formality but the law requires someone verify that the living conditions are safe and healthy for a child."
Next: The New Brother
As busy as we were homeschooling, he was always ready to take clients after lunch. The monthly costs of our home were adding up and these afternoon appointments were necessary to meet our expenses. Two afternoons, Mr. Marks stopped by so the boy could shoot some hoops, practice swinging a bat or a tennis racket, go running around the grounds, and do situps and pushups. He was developing an even more beautiful body.
Shortly after New Year's, El Greco called. He was thrilled to hear how well Sven's film was selling. "We'll have to make a sequel real soon."
"So, when is Fuckboy going to see you, El Greco? He has some drawings he wants to show you. And of course, he misses your fucks."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. He told me my cock is the best of them all, ha ha. Better than yours!" We both laughed. "Tell him, I'm sorry, but I got a gig. For the next few weeks, I'll be tied up doing the makeup at the Civic Center."
"What's the show?"
"Peter Pan. I had to buy a lot of green face paint, ha ha! Say, isn't the boy's birthday coming up?"
"Yep, February 10. He'll be turning 10. Double digits already. Can you believe it?"
"Hell, Let me get you two free passes. You'll both love the show!"
The Civic Center auditorium holds 5000, and when the play was over, everyone headed for the parking lot at once. It was stop and go for several blocks. As we crept along the city blocks, I saw small groups of night ladies plying their trade. I thought how fuckin lucky the bitch was compared to these hard working girls. I realized some of them were probably struggling to support kids at home. If my sister had to hustle for her tricks like them, she'd really know what work was. Not that she could possibly compete with these teenagers anyway. I wondered if Fuckboy could tell the difference between the GG's and the Drags. But when I glanced over at him, he was absorbed in the pictures in his playbill.
On some corners I saw the bois, sixteen, fifteen, fourteen, perhaps younger, in their butt hugging shorts. They reminded me of the pussyboys I used to do in school. I wondered what it might be like to hire one of them, but I had never had to pay for sex in my life! I had the best little ass in the world sitting beside me. We turned on to the highway and I could finally get up to speed. I took my right hand off the wheel, put it around Fuckboy's shoulder, and began talking about the play.
He was in high spirits. He was now swinging the rubber cutlass he bought. He loved the show. We both did. He asked, "How did they fly like that?" even though I'm sure he could see the cables. But that's the magic of the theater; it forces you to ignore the evidence of your own eyes and believe the fantasy. It had been a top drawer production. I popped the souvenir CD into the car's player. Fuckboy has a lousy singing voice, can't carry a tune in a bucket, but nonetheless he sang lustily and remembered a hell of a lot of the lyrics:
...I won't grow up. I don't want to wear a tie.
...And a serious expression in the middle of July.
...I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up
...Not me, Not I, Not me! So there!
...Anyone who wants to try and make me turn into a man,
...Catch me if you can.
...I won't grow up. Not a penny will I pinch.
...I will never grow a mustache,
...or a fraction of an inch.
...'Cause growing up is awfuller
...Than all the awful things that ever were.
...I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up,
...No sir, Not I, Not me, So there!
...I won't grow up! I will never even try.
...I will do what Uncle tells me
...And I'll never ask him why
...I won't grow up! No, I promise that I won't
...I will stay a boy forever.
...I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up!
"Oh, Fuckboy. That makes me so fuckin happy! I don't want you to ever grow up!! Please, please, stay a little boy forever and ever!!"
"I will, Sir. I fuckin promise!"
After we stripped for bed, I put "I'm Flying" on the CD player. As Fuckboy sucked my cock I whispered, "First I must blow the fairy dust on you!" He giggled a little, but didn't stop sucking. As the music grew in intensity, I lay down and he climbed on to my pole, smiling at me. There was a lull in the music and I whispered, "Now think lovely thoughts." On the recording, we heard the actors saying, Fishing, Summer, Flowers, and Christmas, but Fuckboy and I just kept repeating the loveliest thought of all: Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, as I held his hips and he started riding up and down. The music grew again and our sex kept pace. Fuckboy started shouting his own rendition of the lyrics, "Fuck, I'm flying! Fuck, out of sight! Fuck, Higher, Higher, Higher! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" The CD turned off, the room was still for a brief moment, then BAM my cock spat out the final coda: whizzing through a cloud, I'm so proud! Never Land is near. I'm about to disappear. I'm flying!
In my line of work, I'm understandably fairly cautious around people connected with the law. I keep my distance from drug dealers. I don't gamble my hard-earned money. I make sure I never get even a parking ticket. The last thing I need is the fuzz snooping around my place.
So you can appreciate my wariness when two days after Fuckboy's tenth birthday, I got a call from a Mr. Steiner, a lawyer in Omaha. He asked if he was speaking to Mr. Thorndike. I said yes. He asked if I knew a Mehitable McTavish. I almost cracked up. Who would name their kid Mehitable? But I told him no. He repeated the question using her full name Mehitable Thorndike McTavish. He said he understood Mehitable's mother and my father were siblings. I realized he had me confused with my old man, whose name I inherited. I was relieved. Whatever trouble this was, it involved Dad, not me.
"Unfortunately my father is deceased. Passed away about five years ago, bless his soul. Mom is gone now as well. Fortunately, I have my sister and my nephew for comfort. I remember how Dad often spoke fondly of his Cousin Hitty. Please give her our regards."
"Oh, unfortunately, Mehitable too has passed on. Three months ago."
"I'm so sorry," I lied.
"Yes, and her husband predeceased her by three years."
"Uhm, I'm sorry about that also. It was very kind of you to look me up to tell me, Mr. Steiner. I'll be sure to have flowers delivered to her grave."
"Well, Sir, there's a more important reason I called." I was not surprised. "You see, you and your sister would be Mehitable's first cousins once removed."
"If you say so."
"She only has one living heir."
"Oh?"
"Her estate is not extensive but her husband was a conservative investor so it has not lost too much value in the recent economic downturn."
"I see. Uhm, who is the heir?"
"A son, whom she had later in life. He's now age five. The entire estate is being held in trust for him. However, her will stated her desire that her son grow up with family if at all possible. I know this would be a lot to ask, but if you or your sister could adopt Jerome and manage his trust fund, I'm sure Mehitable, your Aunt Hitty, would be very pleased."
"Jerome you said."
"Well, everyone calls him Jerry."
"He's five you said."
"And the brightest, cutest little boy you would ever care to meet. I'd like to wrap this up. I'd like to catch a flight next Friday, the 20th, and bring Jerry to meet you. I've got a lot of papers to bring as well."
"You have no idea how thrilled I am with this news, Mr. Steiner. My family will be so excited when I tell them. I'm so looking forward to meeting Jerry." I wasn't lying any more!
"Oh, just one more thing. I'll be bringing along a Nebraska social worker. It's a mere formality but the law requires someone verify that the living conditions are safe and healthy for a child."
Next: The New Brother