Jack Edwards


Jonas Pardy glanced around the vast, sunlit interior of the new Kansas City terminal. Though the smallest of the three central states’ hubs, behind Chicago and Dallas, the BHO Terminal outside Kansas City was state of the art, and it was expanding. With technology making it possible for a single robotic construction team to lay ten miles of environmentally-friendly sky tube every twenty-four hours, more and more routes cut directly across the lower forty-eight states, and Kansas was at the natural center of their crisscrossing.

Jonas stretched and watched people for a moment, as they moved casually from one platform to another. There was no need to rush; there was an abundance of tram cars. The great expanses of glass overhead and along the exterior walls gave as much a feeling of being outdoors as Jonas was likely to get for a while. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d made a conscious decision to go outside.

Now would not be the time anyway. There was snow on the ground. He wore only a black belt of interwoven microfiber which dipped to a codpiece that was little more than a sheer pouch for his genitals. With a coordinating shoulder bag and slippers, he was as dressed as most people were these days, and more dressed than many. Naked was in. Naked was practical. When he wasn’t traveling or out for the evening, Jonas usually went naked himself. In fact, he had everything he needed for an entire week’s stay in LA… in his shoulder bag.

There was one other item on his person; his headband. Because he wore his black hair like a mane, falling thickly from the back of his head all the way down to the top of his butt, he preferred a circlet headband. His was a MS-Nike model that banded his head in a glowing circle of white.

Jonas thought, ‘food… here’, and the headband flashed him a transparent, heads-up display that included a 3-D map and directions to the nearest restaurants and food courts. As he turned his head, the orientation of the map changed to match. Because the display fed directly to his optical cortex, he was the only one to see it, just as he was the only one to see the scrolling list of providers and menus. He turned toward the nearest food court.

An ESPN newsfeed popped up in his heads-up display. He read it, and then changed the display to a schedule of the gymnastics events he wanted to follow later in the day. Then he glanced at national news headlines, and one caught his attention… “FEMALE BIRTHRATE UP… For the first time in twenty years, the US birthrate for girls is approaching two-thirds that for boys. Dr. Barack Sumter, professor of reproductive sciences at Cal Tech, cites several contributing factors. ‘The simple answer,’ he told reporters, ‘is that the government now subsidies all costs of female conception and birth. This makes female births highly profitable for surrogates, whose charges for delivering a female baby are only slightly less than that for a male. Demand for children is up overall,’ he pointed out. ‘Our times are uncertain. Single and multiple parents are starting to think of girls as potentially better income producers, at younger ages [as surrogate mothers], than males. And older females can often write their own ticket in the workplace,’ he added. ‘Older females command significantly higher salaries than their male counterparts – the often quoted, queen bee syndrome.’ The professor went on to point out that the US is overwhelmingly male; and, ‘… even though we are a pansexual society, boys still like girls,’ he told reporters. As a final, major factor, Dr. Sumter cited the reality that a human womb continues to be the best and only truly viable incubator for a human child. When reporters asked if another major factor might be that single male parents are more interested in female offspring as convenient sexual partners, the professor declined comment because of the controversy over the current trend.”

Jonas considered watching the interview on his heads-up display, but decided against it. His eyes traveled over the terminal and the endless parade of the naked, or mostly naked, bodies of his fellow travelers.

He worked on honing his skills of discernment. Now that he was approaching eighteen, he had become better at telling the differences between someone in their late twenties and someone in their late fifties. It wasn’t easy. Technology had done wonders with human aging.

It wasn’t difficult to tell a teen or preteen, of course. That was perhaps why teenagers – especially boys – were sexually attractive to everyone. In a society where all boys were beautiful, and there were so many more of them than girls, boys were more popular sexual partners.

He slowed as he walked past half a dozen sex alcoves, or simply coves, as they were called. The coves had cushioned walls, couches, and floors; all covered with bio-free, pathogen-safe fabrics and materials.

It was still early in the morning, and only four coves were occupied. The first held a teenage boy and girl. Three guys had stopped to watch. The next cove held two guys who Jonas guessed were still in their twenties. They were standing, butt fucking, and the one in back had beautiful hip action.

Jason paused to watch and his dick thickened, stretching his sheer pouch. The guy in the back of the couple smiled and motioned for Jonas to join them. Jason smiled and shook his head, moving on.

He milled around the food court, his head band displaying the menus. Finally, he settled on a Mexican breakfast. His headband noted the selection and forwarded his choice to the appropriate kiosk, along with payment information.

Jonas, like most people, appreciated places which prepared food, even as simple as a taco, by hand. He watched as a short, chocolate-colored attendant – a girl with a big smile of perfect white teeth – assembled his meal. She was pretty in her white, sanitary hair and pube nets. Female pubes were in at the moment, as opposed to shaved, and food preparers were required to wear nets.

He watched her small hands work; she was wearing thin, bio-free gloves. The girl flashed a warming wand over the tacos and passed them across to Jonas.

He took them and an orange juice to a table at the edge of the food court. Almost as soon as he sat down, a family of three – father, mother, and daughter – sat down at the next table. He guessed the girl was around twelve. She was wearing a sheer g-string and had very little in the way of pubes.

The girl was astonishingly pretty, even in a world where all girls were remarkably beautiful. Her pale blond hair hung in glorious curls down onto her chest, teasingly screening her newly budding breasts. She wore leg twinings; a weave of black leather-like strands up each slender leg, almost up to her crotch.

He smiled at her; she smiled back.

“Where are you headed?” Jonas asked.

“San Diego,” she said, moving her seat closer. “We’re going to see my aunt and uncle.” She smiled. Her eyes were profoundly blue.

The few, original designer children all had profoundly blue eyes. Now, just about all kids were DCs, or dizzies as they were called, and they came in a wide variety of hair, eye, and skin color. The boys all had ample endowments, but girls came with a variety of breast sizes and curves. Breast sizes could be changed as they grew older, of course. So could dick sizes, to one degree or another.

“I’m Lynette,” she said.

“Jonas,” he answered. “I like your name.”

She smiled. “I like your body.” Her eyes dropped to his shoulders and chest, and then down his lean torso. Then her eyes rose back to his. “Click?” she asked.

He nodded, and instantly, his headband fed him Lynette’s Facebook pages, just as her headband was displaying his for her. He scanned, saw her likes, saw she had two current boyfriends and liked three-ways with them, preferred being on top, though liked variety, was traveling with her parents to see her grandparents, was indeed, twelve.

She saw that he was on his way to LA for a stay with his brother, who was his first long-term sex partner and still his best friend. He loved several boys, with whom, he played fantasy games, but he had no boyfriend or girlfriend at the moment. He liked sex with girls almost as much as sex with guys; and he liked girls as friends.

They chatted as they ate, observing common likes and dislikes. He felt over her leg twinings, admiring them. She smiled and gave him a kiss.

“Have you had sex yet this morning?” Lynette asked him. “There are some coves with rings around the corner there. I’ve never tried rings.”

“I haven’t sexed yet,” he said, with a grin. “But I’d like to.”

“Mom, Dad,” Lynette said, as she and Jonas got to their feet. “We’ll be in the coves around the corner for a little while.”

“Don’t tear your new cavlin, Lyny,” her mom said, referring to Lynette’s g-string. “Take it off first.”

Lynette rolled her eyes, grinned at Jonas, and led him away by the hand.

There was no wait. One of the coves was free. Jonas tossed his shoulder bag to the back of the cove and then faced Lynette. He swept her hair back off her shoulders so he could see her small, firm breasts. They fit the palms of his hands exactly.

Lynette smiled, running her hands over Jonas’ strong shoulders. He kissed her. Their mouths locked, and he probed into her mouth with his tongue. Carefully, he pushed the thin band of her g-string downward in back. She loosened his belt. She pushed down her g-string and then took his belt and pouch down his legs, dropping to her knees.

She lifted his erection, admiring it. To the side of his vision, Jonas’ headband gave him a display of her view of his cock. She kissed and licked it, and smiled up at him. “My boyfriends’ dicks haven’t grown much yet.” She stood up and they embraced.

Jonas pressed his dick to her belly and felt her nipples pressing his own chest. The top of her head came only to his chin. He nuzzled her hair; it was sweet-smelling.

Grasping her by the waist, Jonas lifted Lynette so she could grab the two chrome rings dangling overhead. That wasn’t a problem for him or her; all dizzies were strong and athletic.

She hung from the ring and he lifted her legs onto his shoulders, burying his face in her warm labia. He licked and sucked her, and got Lynette ready; very ready. Then he lowered her off his shoulders. Grasping her under the thighs while she held onto the rings, he guided his cock to her opening. The damp lips of her pussy passed over his crown and he felt the sheath of her snug little vagina slide down his shaft.

He grabbed her butt, she wrapped her legs around his hips, and they pumped their pelvises against each other. Quickly, several bystanders stopped at the cove to watch. More than one guy got an erection. However, Jonas and Lynette didn’t worry about interlopers. One of the strongest taboos in their otherwise wide-open society was that one never intruded on a copulation unless specifically invited. Jonas and Lynette weren’t about to invite anyone.

As advanced as their headbands were, they could not share one another’s sensations; only the view they had, and their levels of excitement. The two bands worked together, stimulating arousal and pleasure centers, pacing responses, ensuring a long copulation and that when Jonas and Lynette climaxed, it would be prolonged and together.

Each time Jonas did something that felt good to Lynette, his own headband gave him a pleasurable surge. Each time Lynette did something that felt good to Jonas, hers gave her a surge of pleasure. The impacts of their pelvises gave them waves of pleasure.

Lynette let go of the rings, wrapping her arms around Jonas’ neck. Holding her to him, he dropped to his knees on the bio-free cushions, and laid her down under him. They resumed thrusting.

The fact that they were being watched added to both of their enjoyments. It gave an element of performance to underlie their pleasure. Jonas tapped into the view from the headband of one of the bystanders and shared it, via headbands, with Lynette. They kissed, watching their young bodies move together on their heads-up displays from an outside point of view.

Lynette moved well, and Jonas was an accomplished lover. They were sexual athletes, and though, as yet, no one had ever organized sex into a sport, it was nevertheless, a popular spectator activity.

Lynette moved wildly, hotly. Jonas drove forcefully with his hips. Jonas remembered that Lynette liked to be on top, and he rolled to his back, bringing her with him.

Placing her hands on his shoulders, the twelve-year-old girl pushed herself up to get a better angle on Jonas’ dick, rocking back in his lap. He caressed her breasts and pumped his hips under her.

They built to an impassioned frenzy. A murmur of approval passed through the small group watching from the cove entrance. And then Lynette cried out at the exact same moment as Jonas; their twin orgasms arriving exactly together.

They rode the orgasm to a long and satisfying end, before finally winding down. A few people at the entrance applauded, and then dispersed. Lynette’s parents were there and remained.

“Was that fun, honey?” her mom asked, smiling and coming into the cove to pick up Lynette’s g-string for her.

“It sure looked like it was fun,” her dad said, approvingly. “If we didn’t need to get going, I’d bring your mom in there and kick you two out.”

Physically, Lynette’s dad looked little older than Jonas, though Jonas figured him to be in his late forties. Jonas wondered if Lynette and her dad had banged each other. Probably. Her mom had probably sexed with Lynette, as well, he decided.

He caressed Lynette and kissed her as his dick softened inside her. He stroked her forehead, and smiled. She smiled at him. Silently, they added each other to their Facebook friends list.

“I could go again,” Jonas murmured. “Too bad you have to leave.”

Lynette nodded. “Maybe again sometime.”

“Sure,” Jonas agreed with a smile. It was possible. Lots of friendships started with sex.

As Jonas made his way toward the LA platform, he passed two, unbanded males – two teenage boys without headbands. Like most people, Jonas felt intimidated around unbanded boys; they had a wild, feral quality. Because they couldn’t afford bands or refused to wear them, they and their emotions were not controlled. These two might not even be dizzies. One was classic white and one was classic black and their looks had a raw quality.

Jonas was glad to see that two security guards followed them. The muscular guards in their white crotch cups and zap batons were more than a match for a couple of unbanded teens. Jonas watched as they walked away. Though lean, the boys’ bodies lacked the sculpted perfection of dizzies, and yet, the fleshy bottom of the white boy drew Jonas’ lingering gaze. He’d had sex without headbands once, and found it fumbling and awkward. But that was when he was thirteen. He wondered now what sex with a wild boy would be like.

Congress had been debating a law for years which would require universal wearing of headbands. Jonas thought about that, watching the two boys disappear into the crowd. He felt like someone watching lions in the wild. It would be a shame to let them die out.

Of course, there were, still in the world, entire countries where people wore no headbands. Headbands were even outlawed in countries like the Netherlands where the Muslims had taken over completely and viewed the US, China, and other modern countries as hopelessly decadent. Jonas preferred to not think about Muslims or other countries that hated his own with a rabid ferocity.

At least in the US, they knew what to do with backward thinkers. As he learned in his modern trends class, sex was a marvelous cure for religion and prudery. Children removed from religious households, and given capable sex partners and an abundance of sexual experiences, were soon liberated. For other backward thinkers, the simple soothing of a headband was enough to bring them to freedom. And, for those religious few who resisted headbands, nakedness, and modern trends, there was deportation, or in some cases, execution. Hate, the Supreme Court had ruled, was anathema to modern society, and by its very nature, religion implied a condemnation of the non-religious. To judge was to hate.

Only two years before, the general population, finally fed up with people who condemned the private practices of others, passed the Thirty-first amendment to the constitution. The amendment set it out exactly; no religious person had a right to citizenship in a free and open society.

Jonas waited on the platform with a dozen other people for the next car to LA. A nine-year-old boy sat beside his mother on one of the benches. Straddling the boy’s lap was his sister, who looked to be six. She was facing him, bouncing in his lap and riding his cock, like kids that age liked to do.

The two were obvious products of the latest fashion and technology. The boy’s skin color was Asian mocha; his eyes were pale, Aryan blue; his body had a long, African leanness; and his hair was a rich mane of Scandinavian white. His sister had a creamy complexion and eyes that were a mixed spackling of golds and blues. He couldn’t tell her hair color for sure because her mom had given it an electrolyte shampoo which allowed the little girl’s headband to play a variety of colors through her hair. Little girls loved that sort of thing. At the moment, colors were flashing through her hair like a marquee sign, flashing synchronously with her bouncing.

A tall boy, fourteen, with tight auburn curls, traveling with his mother and ten-year-old brother stepped up beside Jonas as the car pulled up. His eyes met Jonas’. They smiled.

“Click?” the boy asked asked.

Jonas nodded. The two exchanged Facebook pages as they stepped into the car. The boy’s name was Arken, and he followed Jonas in. Like Jonas, Arken carried a shoulder bag and wore slippers. Other than his headband, he wore nothing else.

The interior of the car contained eight seating alcoves. The height of seatbacks was waist-high, but already, one couple was reconfiguring theirs for privacy, and walls rose around it. Arken and Jonas chose a gaming alcove and reconfigured it as a crib; basically a big bed. They were both into fantasy games, and that would be the best configuration.

Arken lay down onto his back and watched as Jonas unfastened his belt, tossing it and his codpiece to the side. Jonas lay down beside Arken, and the younger boy rolled up to face him. Jonas took Arken’s flaccid cock into his hand. It was warm and growing. Jonas gave it a sqeeze as their headbands shared heads-up displays of fantasy game titles. Arken was a pretty boy. His mom had chosen pretty and slender over strong and handsome. Jason liked pretty and slender. The cocks of both boys grew erect.

They chose Pirate Island, and, as Jonas rolled Arken to his back and moved on top of him, their headbands overrode input from their eyes to place them, visually, on the white sands of a tropical island. Jonas’ bag lay close by on the sand and Jonas reached into it, extracting a small container of lubricant. Lying on top of Arken, Jonas squeezed some onto his fingers.

Arken pulled his knees up, and Jonas spread the lube in the younger boy’s butt crevice. Then, kneeling up at Arken’s bottom, Jonas pressed his crown to Arken’s opening and pushed. The younger boy’s tightness slid over Jonas’s crown and down his shaft. Their headbands echoed the pleasure to Arken and Arken’s back to Jonas.

Jonas lay down onto Arken and the two embraced. They kissed. Their headbands triggered a flood of affection between the boys, and Jonas felt his heart swell with deep feelings for Arken; as if they’d been brothers all their lives. The Pirate Island scenario was exactly that – that they were marooned brothers and lovers, alone for years, and who cared for one another deeply. Like many fantasy scenarios, it began with a love scene to set the stage.

Jonas moaned. “I love you, Arken,” he murmured, and he truly did.

Arken hugged Jonas’ neck tightly. “I love you, Jonas.”

With a thought, Arken triggered a game selection to slow time perception. The trip to LA would last little over an hour, but he wanted it to seem like a day. Jonas did likewise. He loved being in love.

Their hips moved. Jonas thrust his dick firmly into the younger boy and they murmured their delight at the impact. They made a gentle, long-lasting love on the beach, under the sky and sun. A light breeze blew across their bodies as the crib responded to instructions from their headbands. The headbands fed the sound of breaking waves to their audio cortexes. On the horizon, the sails of a pirate ship could be seen arising.

Arken was fun. He was an inventive player, full of exuberance. Just when two pirates had pinned Jonas down by the arms, Arken swung past on a vine, shooting one pirate and stabbing another.

Jonas returned the favor a moment later, beheading the pirate captain, just as he was closing in on Arken. In actuality, they lay on their backs beside each other in the crib, controlling the game and the fantasy by thoughts, eye, and hand movement. Their headbands triggered restricted muscle responses so that the boys had the sensations of great, physical exertion. They sweat.

Arken’s ten-year-old brother, Robbie, wanted to join them, but his brother probably wouldn’t let him. He and Jonas were far into the game. Instead, Robbie got up from beside his mom and found the nine-year-old boy and his little sister. The girl was asleep and the boy was evidently into a video experience on his headband.

“Can I watch?” Robbie asked.

The boy nodded and Robbie lay back beside him, synchronizing headbands. It was the latest Indiana Jones experience.

“Awesome,” Robbie murmured.

Jonas and Arken drove the pirates from the beach just as the tropical sun was setting. They fell together on the sand at the water’s edge, under a rising full moon. Their legs entwined. They kissed. They rolled. They made love.

Jonas opened his eyes. Arken was still in his arms. Their headbands had given them a ten minute nap in the last moments as they approached LA. The nap seemed much longer, almost like a night under the moon, in Arken’s arms. Jonas kissed the younger boy. Arken’s eyes teared up and he nuzzled into the side of Jonas’ neck.

That was the difficult part to fantasy games; the ending. That’s why they were best played with long-term friends who you didn’t have to part from. The headbands could suppress the sadness, but boys rarely did that.

“Can you come over while you’re in LA?” Arken asked in a whisper.

“Yeah,” Jonas murmured. And that was the good part to fantasy games, that they really didn’t have to end.



I always tell readers that their emails are the only pay we Nifty writers ask for or receive. I'd love to hear from you if you enjoyed this story. It's my first time posting to the sci-fi area, and I'm interested in seeing how many readers are here. Actually, this first posting was originally intended as a first chapter; setting up for the story to follow. I have a definite plot in mind for Dizzies, but I'd rather not pursue it until I'm sure I have readers. My email address, by the way, is jnuanced@gmail.com.

Also, because it is my first time to post in this area, here's information on some of my other stories here at Nifty...

My newest is The Activist, and it has just started posting in the Gay College sectioin.

All of my stories are listed under Jack Edwards on Nifty's prolific authors page. The ones I'd recommend would be

Junior High
Sex Olympics Boys who decide to hold their own Olympics. It turned out to be pretty popular.

Boy to High School (mostly Junior High summer)
Boy Play I'll warn you that this one begins with a very young character for a couple of chapters, but that's to set things up (and, I've heard from several guys over the years who started with other boys that young). Most of the story develops over a summer when the boys are junior high and early high school ages. This story definitely had a following.

Historical Adult/Youth
Waisen A story of an American and a Brit and war orphans in post war Germany. I received a number of emails from guys who thought it a true story. Everyone who wrote, seemed to like it very much.

Gator I've only posted part one so far, but it has been well-received.

First Time Stories
A Book of Firsts Stories of first sexual times or first time in love.

I've also written more romantic, and more polished stories under a second pen name of Josh Maxwell. All of those stories are also listed (under Josh Btomandback) on Nifty's prolific authors page. I'll mention a couple you might like...

High School
The Least of These A love story between 'special' boys, one of the first I wrote, set in San Antonio, Texas.
Sealing Our Fate
An idyllic love story, set mostly at South Padre Island.
Bookworms First love... in the library.

High School to College
Sea Change My longest story, a love story set in south Texas with some Hill Country bicycling.

Jeet Another long story, a departure for me, along more 'epic' type lines; young boys and powerful influences in Hellenistic Persia.

High School with a Twist
Masquerade A love story with a surprise ending.

And one I wrote for Halloween once
The Touch Short, meant to be fun.

Please do let me know if you read any of these and enjoy them. And thank you for reading Book Worms!