Date: Thu, 26 Aug 2010 15:35:53 -0700 (PDT) From: Beautiful Creamer Subject: Sissyboy Scenes 16 Sissyboy Scenes 16 By Beautiful Creamer Sissyboy Shelter State Inspector Clay Mountbum enjoyed his work. As chief inspector for his state's seven sissyboy shelters, Clay's welcome task was to visit each shelter regularly in order to ensure that the boys were well-cared for. Not to mention their "caretakers." It was with a sense of some excitement that day that Clay knocked on the front door of the Springfield Sissyboy Shelter, the system's jewel. Clay wasn't surprised when no one answered the door the first three times he rang. The shelter was a very "busy" place. Many times Clay had considered announcing his inspection visits, thereby ensuring that one of the shelter's residents would at least be free to open the door for him. But Clay Mountbum was a man of great integrity, who knew that unannounced inspections were the only way to ensure full compliance with both the letter and the spirit of the state's enlightened sissyboy shelter laws. Clay waited. Rang for a fourth time. And finally heard padded feet approach. Small feet. A boy, whom the state called a "resident" but Clay called his path to heaven. The door opened and Clay saw a young boy. A beautiful little angel. Dressed only in baby-blue panties, the front of which appeared to have been the recent recipient of a sizable serving of the boy's sperm and semen. The boy's face ignited when he saw Clay. "Mr. Mountbum!" the boy squealed. "You're back!" Clay returned the luminous smile. "Ali! It's wonderful to see you. I missed..." Which was all Clay got to say because little Ali flung himself at the Inspector and pelted him with wet kisses. As he rubbed his soaked panties against Clay's trouser-covered stiffie. Ali had created many a stiffie. His fellow residents often called him "Omar" because of all the "tents" he had made in man's pants. The boy had lovely, jet-black eyes and a tiny cock with attendant balls that were even blacker. His skin was soft and a cocoa brown. The boy's face was classically beautiful and his lips invited men to abandon their wallets and their tenuous heterosexuality. Clay reviewed Ali's case in his head. Not typical by any means. The boy's father had caught Ali doing what nature intended, sucking his father's best friend's cock. Ali's father (he doesn't merit the term "Daddy"), who considered himself a religious man, beat his friend half to death with a stick, then turned on Ali. Calling him names too shocking to post on a family web site like nifty. Then the evil father got on the phone, gathering friends and neighbors to administer the only act that could restore the family's "honor." Ali's death by stoning. But Ali was way too smart to await that horrendous fate. He slipped out of the house and made his way to the nearest sissyboy shelter, where he was gladly accepted, fucked sweetly, then put to bed to sleep safely and comfortably. The next day the boy was spirited off to the Springfield shelter, where he had been delighting his fellow sissyboys and the staff for the past seven weeks. "You must be almost adopted by now, Sweetie," Clay said to Ali. "I'll bet there's a line a mile long to take you home." Clay was exaggerating, but not by much. There was a huge waiting list of men statewide who were eager to adopt a pretty boy, give him a good, loving home, and fuck him whenever they could manage an erection. Ali giggled at Clay's praise. "Oh, yes, Mr. Mountbum. I've interviewed lots of men to be my new, loving Daddy. I was interviewing one when you rang the bell. He was so happy to meet me that we were kissing straight away. He's a really good kisser and then when he slid his hand into the back of my panties and rubbed his finger on my `pussy,' well, you know how sensitive I am back there, Mr. Mountbum." Clay blushed. He knew indeed. The boy would spunk twice before you could get your Spermbutt-anal-lubricated fingers inside him long enough to lubricate and dilate him well enough for a pain-free fucking. The potential adoptive Daddy was probably delightfully surprised when Ali filled his pretty panties with boy's cream. The poor man was probably sitting somewhere with a big, painful stiffie. Eager for Ali's return. Clay wouldn't keep them apart any longer. "I'll be inspecting you later, Ali. I'm looking forward to it." That time it was Ali's turn to blush. "Me too, Mr. Mountbum." "One thing before you go, Honey. Where's Mr. Spreadlad?" "He's at the pool with the boys. Go on back. I'll see you later!" And following a kiss that included a mere whiff of tongue, Ali was on his way back to the lucky, prospective Daddy. It's a good system we've set up in our state, Clay told himself for the millionth time. The boys choose their own new families. A real win-win-win-win, etc. Clay walked through the nicely-appointed house toward the pool. It was comforting to know that while the state administered the seven shelters, no taxpayer money supported them. It was all the generous, voluntary contributions of potential Daddies. Gerald Swellcock had paid for the Springfield pool three years ago. Right after he adopted the beauteous Eddie. Gerald and Eddie were one of hundreds of loving couples that the system produced -- with a 95.4% success rate. Why hadn't anyone thought of it earlier? Clay glanced at his watch. It was 1:39 p.m. The perfect time for his surprise inspection. The boys had school in the morning and sex in the afternoon and evening. And in the early morning before school. And in the breaks during school time. Clay stepped out the back door into the pool area. The daily report said there were a dozen sissyboys in residence at Springfield at that moment. He saw six at the pool. That meant that Ali and five others were inside with potential Daddies, state politicians or big donors. His first thought was that the boys inside must have been spectacular beauties to have been selected by visiting men. Because the six at the pool were an outstanding collection of ball-drainers. And ball-draining was clearly the priority for that sunny afternoon. No one noticed Clay at first, which made sense because Tony Spreadlad and his assistant director Xavier Morningwood, were "busy" with two of their charges and the other four boys were busy with each other Everyone was naked, so, when in Rome, Clay did as the Romans. He had just laid his boxers against a lounge chair when a boy cried out in orgasm as Mr. Morningwood filled his sweet bottom with assistant-director spunk. And a second boy cried out, "Mr. Mountbum! It's Mr. Mountbum!" It was great to be popular. Clay was popular among sissyboys with good reason. Sissyboy shelters were his idea. And he called in every political favor he had to make them a reality. Then maneuvered to get himself appointed inspector-for-life. So every sissyboy in the system owed his happiness, and in the case of boys like Ali, his life, to Mr. Mountbum. And sissyboys are VERY appreciative people. Clay didn't expect Tony to break away from what appeared to be the final throes of a glorious fuck until it was concluded. Tony's respectful nod during coitus was more than enough. But four boys, who had been merely kissing and toying, ran up to Clay as if he were a rockstar. The naked cherubs hugged him tightly and, inevitably, an eager lad slipped Mr. Mountbum's fat cock into his pretty mouth. Clay loved his job. Clay reveled in the exquisite sensation of being fellated by a sweet boy, then said, gently, "Thank you all so much, my darlings. But there will be lots of time for that later. I'll be inspecting this facility for at least four days, so I'll get to know all of you, the new boys and the `veterans,' quite well. I need to get to work and will do so as soon as Mr. Spreadlad finishes in that delightful bum of...is that Greggie? Hello, Greggie!" Greggie managed a little wave at Mr. Mountbum, which was no small feat since he was hosting Mr. Spreadlad's truly enormous schwanstucker in his miniscule pooper. Greggie and Tony Spreadlad's love tussle soon reached a rather spectacular climax. Greggie spunked first. At least Clay thought he had preceded Tony's pleasure, since his cock was quite visible as the rutting Mr. Spreadlad ravaged him from behind. Tony Spreadlad emptied his cargo only microseconds after young Greggie sweetened the air with his cream. When the lovers recuperated and kissed their thank yous, they both turned their attention to Clay. Who was smiling at Tony as he cuddled two naked beauties -- one on each thigh. "Great to see you, Chief," Tony said. And he meant it. "You're always welcome here." He meant that too. Had it not been for Mr. Mountbum's vision, Tony would have still been working as a partner at his law firm, pulling down a million a year, but reduced to fucking his nephews when they weren't dating some high-school stud or other. "Thanks, Tony," Mr. Spreadlad's benefactor said. "This is an official inspection, so I'll have to do the official part first. Will you and Xavier please gather the boys in the recreation room for inspection say within 15 minutes?" "Sure, Chief, I'll get right on..." "Oh, but Tony, don't interrupt any coitus, OK?" Tony smiled. "Coitus." The Chief was definitely in official mode. Normally he would say "fucking," like anyone else. Fifteen minutes later, ten of the twelve boys were assembled. The other two were with potential Daddies and would report after they finished being "coitused." The boys, all naked, lined up compliantly. Ali was first. "I've already seen you today, Ali," Clay said, "But I'll ask officially. How are you?" "I've never been happier, sir. I love being myself and this is the best place in the world to be myself. The shelters -- you, Mr. Mountbum -- saved me from being stoned. I'll love you all forever." Clay glowed. It was a sentiment he had heard often from the boys. And their gratitude was astounding. "Step forward, Ali. Let me see your pretty things. Oh my. Has your penis grown since last time? Let's measure. Yes! It's now 3.78 inches. Not bad for a ten-year-old." Ali giggled. And his cock twitched. As it always did when a man touched it. Clay skinned back the boy's dark hood to reveal the pretty, pink knob. What a miracle of Creation the little mushroom was! Every pore poised for response to a man's caresses. The Inspector inspected Ali's glans for any signs of underuse or overuse, pronounced it "perfect" and reluctantly moved on. Clay held the boy's "pink purse" in his hand and played with the sweet treasures a bit. Were they sore from overuse or unfulfilled desire? Apparently not. "Turn around now, Ali and put your hands on your knees. Feet a little More apart. That's it." The sweet angel's most intimate bottom areas were completely exposed to the government man. What a lovely sight! The rosebud. Pink and wrinkled, with just a suggestion of darkness. No signs of bruising. Yet loosened just a bit by an appropriate amount of anal sex. Ali squeaked when Mr. Mountbum gave the boy's anus the "taste test." Which wasn't in any of the many sissyboy inspection manuals, but Mr. Mountbum thought it told him a lot about a boy's anal health. Plus, Clay really liked licking out boys' assholes. Ali, as his anal sensitivities were already noted, was quite "hair trigger" back there. So, of course, it came as no surprise to the Springfield Sissyboy Shelter community when the boy squealed and squirted under Mr. Mountbum's loving attentions. Though Clay was obviously a wizened veteran of sissyboy sexual response, it still amazed him that his little angels were able to produce so much spunk, so frequently, at the tender ages of nine to 13 (with an occasional 14- to 16-year-old in need). Ali could really shoot some boy's cream. As it always did, making a sissyboy shoot was a great joy to Clay. His life's work, actually. And a good life it was. Clay moved quickly around Ali to view the last drooling spurts of his orgasm, capping the boy's knob with his mouth to administer the second "taste test." Mmmmm. Creamy goodness. With the purity that good diet and exercise engender. Just one more area to inspect. Clay lubed up his fingers from one of the shelter's 17 strategically-placed, pump-bottle containers of Spermbutt anal lubricant. It was time to see if Ali's "pussy" was still tight and if his "boy's place" was functioning properly. Clay slid two inspecting fingers into Ali's tight hole, listened for and heard the boy's grunt of pleasure. Not as tight as last time, Clay thought. That was logical. But certainly still within state standards. As Clay approached the boy's most intimate spot with his fingers, he reasoned that Ali would never be able to spunk again so quickly. Probably wouldn't even erect. He was right about the latter and wrong about the former. When Clay found the boy's sweet spot and began to expertly and non-bureaucratically rub it, the boy's breathing increased, though his spent cock did not. Ali whimpered and squeaked, then groaned, said, "I love you, Mr. Mountbum!" and shuddered his way through a Force Ten orgasm. During which his penis never stiffened and only two weak globs of semen dribbled from his peehole. Clay declared the boy "exceedingly fit" on his checksheet and dismissed him after a deep kiss and the promise of an "in-depth interview" or two before Clay left Springfield. Work, work, work. Since many of the boys had been freshly fucked prior to their inspection, Clay's pussy-tasting was often quite flavorful. Over the next two hours, Clay inspected ten more boys, all of whom received top grades. Tony Spreadlad was to be commended, the Inspector thought. He's a credit to the civil service. As each boy was inspected, he left the room, leaving Clay and Tony alone. But where was boy number 12? Tony explained that. "Tommy should be here any minute, Mr. Mountbum." Tony said. "He's a bit different from the other boys and he insisted on preparing himself a bit before meeting you. Like every other sissyboy in this state, he reveres your name, so it was out of respect that... Oh. There he is." Clay was intrigued. A bit different. Clay liked different. Why was this Tommy different? Oh. That. Oh my. Eleven-year-old Tommy's appearance was well worth the delay. Unlike his eleven naked sheltermates, Tommy was dressed. In lingerie. Full lingerie. The boy was wearing black, seamed, fully-fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings. A ruffled black garter belt. Black, four-inch-stiletto, strappy sandals. A black, open bra that fully exposed his oversized, puffy nipples. And black panties that were severely tented with what Clay judged to be a six-inch cock! Different was inadequate to describe Tommy. Frighteningly sexy was more apt. Even to a committed boylover, not girl-wannabe lover like Clay. Tommy was the unusual-but-not-unique variation called the "lingerie sissy" (See Dickman's "North American Sissyboys," pp 143-147). Usually that meant going beyond the sissyboys' usual panties and/or speedo bathing suits to, perhaps the occasional pink nightie or even the pull-up, thigh-high stockings one buys at the drug store. Tommy's gear was first-rate. Expensive. Authentic -- think black-and-white, girlie magazine, circa 1958. And Tommy wore it well. Very well. The boy glided into Clay's presence in very high heels. He had done his own makeup and the application was expert -- down to the mascara, eye shadow, eyeliner, blush, foundation, powder and bright, red lipgloss that made his lips look enormous. And enormously inviting. Perhaps it was that Tommy reminded Clay of his mother's friends when he was a child. Some of them wore stockings and big heels back then. And makeup to the max. Some of them stirred the young Clay's testicles until Clay later discovered women's empty promises and he tried boys. Clay's mind wrestled with cognitive dissonance as he saw the pretty, very young boy, dressed as an almost cartoonish female throwback. Acting like a woman in many ways, but sporting an erection worthy of a mature man. Powdered, perfumed and made-up, but with his curly blond hair cut to a boy's length. Clay was confused. Clay's cock was not. It was very stiff, very throbby and very drippy. Ever the professional while in inspection mode, Clay looked at Tommy's personnel sheet. The boy had arrived five weeks earlier -- one week after Clay's last inspection. He had had.... What? There had been more than 200 valid adoption offers!?!? Many of them from men who had only seen a picture of his pretty face! The average for a shelter boy was 20 offers. Not bad, but... "I couldn't stay at home any more, Mr. Mountbum," Tommy said. Cheeky too, this one, Clay thought. Usually the boys didn't speak until spoken to during inspections. But from beauty like that, he could accept cheekiness. "Why was that, Sweetheart?" Clay asked. A small tear appeared in Tommy's gorgeous right eye as he said, "Daddy caught me dressing pretty in Mommy's things. He called me horrible names! And [sob], he beat my bottom. Hard!" The beast! To abuse an angel like Tommy just for being who he was... And to defile an ass so exquisite! The man should have been flogged. Clay glanced at Tommy's file. The boy was removed from his home in Capital City and brought directly to the Springfield shelter, where, as it turned out, he was a complete VIRGIN! Clay looked up from the file and asked, "You were a virgin, Tommy?" The boy blushed. "Oh, yes sir! I didn't even think about men back then. I had never even made boy's cream. Or tried to. I just adored being pretty. When I got here, Mr. Spreadlad was so nice to me... He and I, well..." So Tony Spreadlad actually got to teach this magnificent beauty to "shoot." Clay needed to spend more time in "the field." Clay asked, "Do you like men now, Darling?" Another hot blush and then, "Oh yes sir. I love men. And it seems that men love me. I'm so happy. The men are so nice and so many of them bring me pretty clothes and beautiful, expensive jewelry. Do you like my pretty clothes, Mr. Mountbum? I picked them out just for you." Clay's cock was near bursting. He told himself it was the eleven previous inspections. Not this odd lad who seemed to have learned everything there was to know about flirting and seduction in just five weeks. "You're very beautiful, Tommy. I can see why so many men want to be your Daddy." The vanilla, bureaucratic answer. Clay cleared his throat. "All right, Tommy. Let's have a look. Off with those panties." Tommy pulled an exquisite pouty face. "Don't you want to take them off me, Mr. Mountbum? I thought you said I was beautiful. After men tell me I'm beautiful, they always take my panties off." I'm sure they must, Clay thought. Then he considered telling Tommy that this was an official inspection, conceived by the legislative branch, directed by the executive branch and upheld by the judicial branch. But Tommy had turned and his pantied bum was facing Clay. Tony Spreadlad cleared his throat and said, "Since it's just you and Tommy now, Inspector, perhaps you would both be more comfortable doing the inspection in your usual guest room." That sounded splendid to Clay. Fewer distractions. So he could work properly. Tony led the man and pantyboy to Clay's usual room, then melted away when they shut the door. And so to work. Clay eased the boy's silky, black, almost transparent panties up and over his big stiffie, and down to the middle of Tommy's delicious thighs. The man gazed in wonder at the 11-year-old's half a foot of penis. "It's so big and hot and hard, Tommy," Clay said. Tommy giggled. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to say to you, Mr. Mountbum?" Clay gulped. Time for hanky-panky later. Work now. Did he just think "hanky-panky?" It was true. Clay was old. 52 years old. Though a very fit and handsome 52. Kind of a half-Daddy, half-Granddaddy to the boys. The only downside being that, even with Viagra, Clay could only manage five or six thorough fucks a day. Though his mouth and tongue never went limp. Work now. "Let me just check the knob, Tommy. I'll pull the foreskin back and... Oh. You liked that, didn't you, Sweetie?" It was true. Tommy was either the world's greatest little actress or he had naturally emitted a groan of deep lust when the Inspector skinned his knob. The Inspector inspected the sweet pinkness. No love-bite marks. No calluses from overuse, though he had only seen those on his shelter directors and their able assistants. The boy's balls were as outsized as his cock. Heavy fruits. Carrying a nectar that would feed many love-starved men. The lad seemed to be in some distress as Clay "handled" him. Which was most irregular as bureaucrats say. Usually they spunked during the "taste test" or during the digital "boy's place" exam. Not this early. Especially after Tommy had been with a man and... Rockets red glare! The sperm bursting in air! It was the Fourth of July at Springfield Sissyboy Shelter. And only one man was there to see the fireworks. A man who had earned a break after two hours of exacting labor. Reaching frantically for the large pump jar of Spermbutt anal lubricant, Clay lubed his fingers then practically shoved them into Tommy's surprised bumhole. He took Tommy's sperm-drooling penis into his mouth. Licking up the last tasty drops of Tommy's creamy emission as he tormented Tommy's prostate with his rude fingers. Tommy was squealing and shuddering as he miraculously managed to stay standing on those big heels. The inspection wasn't complete. And he had skipped the post-inspection foreplay that preceded a post-inspection "interview." Clay hadn't kissed the boy, licked his nipples or eaten his pussy -- all state-approved, foreplay essentials. But he couldn't wait. This once-in-a-lifetime, truly unique, big-cocked, lingeried beauty needed to be fucked. Now. By Clay Mountbum. Now. Perhaps three minutes of finger in-and-out was improper dilation by state standards. Clay didn't care. He flung Tommy onto his back on the bed. Tommy lifted his stockinged legs, kicking off his high heels, then taking care to point his pretty, red-lacquered toes, the boy opened his thighs to be fucked. Clay Mountbum mounted Tommy's bum. Shoving his cock, which was scarcely bigger than Tommy's, into the pantyboy's innards. Tommy screamed. Causing Clay's heart to skip. Had he murdered the boy by using non-state-approved foreplay? Thankfully not. It was a scream of raw lust. The Gandhi/Mandela/Lincoln of sissyboys was fucking Tommy. It was a great honor! And the man was an excellent fucker. Though a couple more inches in the penis department would have been nicer, Tommy thought. Sometimes Tommy was overwhelmed by all the attention he was getting as an "out," out-and-out, lingerie sissyboy. More men, it seemed, wanted him more intensely than they wanted any of the other boys. Tommy knew why. He knew he was pretty. But he thought two or three of the other boys at the shelter were prettier. So many men loved Tommy because they could fuck him, in all his girlish gear, and pretend they weren't gay. Tommy was a "threefer" -- gay, feminine-in-the-best-possible-way, and way underage. Oh my. Mr. Mountbum's cock in Tommy's bottom felt so good. He would stay with Mr. Mountbum as long as the Inspector wanted him. Despite that ridiculous queue of men who wanted to "meet" him with an eye to adoption. Tommy had "met" nearly 40 prospective Daddies since arriving at the shelter. With 160 or so more to go. Then he would have to decide. Maybe Mr. Mountbum would want to adopt him. Which would be great, because the wonderful man wouldn't quit his job. He'd just take Tommy with him when he went to the shelters. And Tommy would make LOTS of new friends there while his new Daddy was doing inspections and interviews. Sometimes he wondered what his "other father" was doing. The rat! He was so mean to Tommy. But it appeared that Tommy was having the last laugh. And quite an orgasm. The boy could feel the train approaching the tracks where Tommy's guts had been strapped. Every time the man's cock rubbed his prostate -- oh! They were kissing as they fucked and Mr. Mountbum was an excellent kisser. Nice tongue work there. Tommy decided to do something naughty -- three things actually -- that would definitely make Mr. Mountbum shoot his stuff at the same time Tommy did. The little cherub squeezed his ass muscles to grip and cuddle the man's cock. Drawing an appreciative grunt from his man. Then, and this was extra-naughty, he said, "I didn't use any protection, Mr. Mountbum. If you shoot your sperm into me, you'll give me your baby." Which was, of course, a ridiculously impossible statement. But tell that to Clay's testicles. It sparked an instinct in Clay he barely knew he had. And then, when Tommy, the incredibly brazen nancyboy, entered Clay's bottomhole, in mid-fuck, with two red-lacquered fingers, Clay's nuts went nuclear. Clay Mountbum had enjoyed many fucks in his full, rich life. But none as life-threatening as that one. It took one month, three days and two hours off his life. And he couldn't wait to go again. Being underneath the sissyboys' Simon Bolivar (the Liberator for the history-challenged among you) while said Simon is cumming as if he were being exorcised, was quite stimulating to Tommy's already healthy ego. And stimulating to his testicular muscles as well. The boy joined the Great One on Planet Love. Clenching his man by locking his stocking ankles as he trembled through his boy's time. Phew! When Tommy's anal muscles eventually involuntarily ejected Clay's defeated cock, Clay rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Trying unsuccessfully to focus his eyes. Tommy lay on Clay's right side, kissing his man's shoulder and face and thanking him for the best lovemaking of his young life. Which may or not be true, but it's certainly what a man wants to hear. A sissyboy boosts his man's ego whenever he can, Clay thought. Remembering how that wasn't the case in his experiences with women. Though there had been that time with his Auntie when he was twelve... And she had his cock between her stockinged feet. Rubbing it. Until... Oh my. Was Tommy a mindreader? Or a demon? The little scalawag had Clay's vanquished, cum-and-poop-stained cock between his pretty, stockinged feet and he was rubbing. Rubbing. Meanwhile. In another part of the Springfield Sissyboy Shelter. Peyton Beaugarcon was enjoying his afternoon interview with a potential adoptive father, Mr. Pistoncock. Tommy's self-evaluation as only the third or fourth prettiest boy in residence was correct. Peyton Beaugarcon was the clear number one. At nine years, ten months and 23 days, he was the youngest. At four foot four, he was the shortest. At 65 pounds he was the lightest. And at fucking and cocksucking he was the most enthusiastic and, of late, the most skilled. Peyton had been at the shelter for nine weeks, longer than the norm. But the boy arrived in more than normal distress and with little or no experience in the basic skills of flirting and seduction. Peyton, it seemed, had been having a very torrid little love affair with his Daddy for almost a year when, one horrid night, Mom came home unexpectedly and caught them fucking. No doubt that it was fucking. There was nakedness aplenty and lots of seminal fluid flying hither and thither. No question of coercion either. Peyton was squealing, begging for his Daddy to "Fuck me harder" and "Make me pregnant, Daddy. I want your baby in my belly." Imagine the unpleasant surprise when Daddy's wife/Peyton's mother screamed rather loudly. Then began to punch and claw at, not her husband the breadwinner, but Peyton. Screaming at the boy, "You're a filthy little gay whore! You seduced your Daddy, I know it! He would have never done anything like that on his own. I'm going downstairs and get a sharp knife, cut your balls off and shove them down your whorish throat." Well. First of all, Peyton did NOT seduce his Daddy. They just sort of fell into their sex stuff one small surrender at a time. Second of all, that would have been a good time for Daddy to defend the person who had been giving him Grade A pussy for the past year. But Daddy was, at heart, heartless. And a coward, it seems, whose first priority was the retention of his own testicles. Luckily for the boy, Peyton sized that situation up quite rapidly. Rather than surrender his balls to a crazed woman scorned, he grabbed his pants and climbed out his bedroom window, onto a tree and down to the ground. Tearing down the street naked and barefoot. Carrying his trousers. Luckily for Peyton again, there was a fire station two blocks away and all police and fire stations in the state accepted abused or about-to-be-abused sissyboys for transfer to a shelter. After the fire chief ascertains that the boy is, in fact, a sissyboy. By offering the boy his cock to suck. Peyton passed that test with an A+. Even better, it was the first cock, other than that of his former Daddy, that he had ever touched. For a boy that pretty, the possibilities were endless. When Peyton arrived at the Springfield Shelter, he was warmly welcomed and frequently fucked. With his full consent, of course. And gradually, he became one of the shelter's all-time greats. Mr. Pistoncock certainly thought so. It was his third interview with Peyton. A sign, he thought, that he had made the short list to become the boy's adoptive Daddy. Oh what a delight that would be! Awakening every morning to feel the delicious, naked beauty sucking his cock as he cuddled his hairy balls! Ignoring the sticky sheets from the previous night's vigorous lovemaking as he shot his first-of-the-day creaminess down his new son's hungry throat. Then giving the boy an excellent, anal seeing-to, first with his tongue and then with his recuperated cock. Sigh. Mr. Pistoncock had gladly paid the $20,000 enrollment fee in the state sissyboy adoption program, then $20,000 each to interview with, let's see, six boys now whom he wanted to adopt. The interviews had been great fun, but he wanted to be selected as one of the boy's Daddy. Even though the adoption fee was $50,000. If more states had sissyboy shelters, they wouldn't be running deficits. Unbeknownst to Mr. Pistoncock, this was to be his lucky day. Peyton had considered all his options and decided that he wanted Mr. Pistoncock to be his new Daddy. He would tell him right after they took care of their most urgent needs. Which were getting urgenter by the moment. Peyton had been fucked often by a number of men, but none had made him as excited as Mr. Pistoncock. When they were together, the young beauty's ears were practically in flames as they kissed and toyed with each other's private parts. Mr. Pistoncock was a very nice man, who was very handsome and had a very nice, 7.2-inch cock. Not the nicest, handsomest or cockiest man Peyton had met. But they had chemistry. Peyton felt something around Mr. Pistoncock. Something comfortable. Beyond lust. Was it love? Maybe. The lust part he was sure of. Mr. Pistoncock had housed his thickness in Peyton's smallness and they were going at it like sex-starved wolves. The man's cock was making the boy's prostate very happy and they were both grunting and moaning through their urgent quest for paradise. Peyton's orgasms were massive things, though the boy had yet to produce a single drop of boy's cream. In his boyish dreams, Peyton imagined that the man who made him shoot spunk first would be the one who would be his new Daddy -- his REAL Daddy -- forever. In an alternative dream, he would shoot his first spunk the night his new Daddy took him home to his new life. At a sissyboy shelter, dreams really do come true. Peyton sensed that something was new about his impending orgasm. Something deeper and more thorough. Which scared him a bit, since his current orgasms already slammed into him harder than those mean boys did when his mom made him play football. Using the L-word during an adoption interview was a big no-no for a prospective Daddy. Mr. Pistoncock knew it. Peyton knew it. But the man, as he approached orgasm, couldn't help himself. "I LOVE YOU, PEYTON!" Mr. Pistoncock cried out as he emptied his soul into the boy's bowels. Peyton responded with his heart and his penis. "I love you, too, Mr. Pistoncock" the boy groaned. "Please be my Daddy!" And then, in a Hollywood-ish moment, he shot two thin streams of boy's cream in weak arcs. The first of thousands in his sweet life to be. Meanwhile. Back in Clay's room. Clay Mountbum's cock was celebrating its rebirth by spouting a geyser of man's cream onto the pretty, stockinged feet of young Tommy. Making a proper mess of said delicious tootsies. Clay's earlier notion about Tommmy's demonic powers was proving true. The boy had supernatural powers of penile resurrection. A power much venerated by a randy, 52-year-old man. The guilt Clay felt from engaging in such semi-heterosexual pursuits as fucking an eleven-year-old lingerie sissyboy was adding a spicy sauce to the sexual stew. Clay didn't want to make love to women. They didn't arouse his arousedness. But he was peniley stupefied in Tommy's pretty presence. There comes a point, Clay eventually reasoned, when one stops wondering why one's cock gets hard and starts to just enjoy one's erections and their consequences. He began to picture Tommy in a wedding gown. Though he doubted they made such things for eleven-year-old boys. No matter. Anything can happen in a fantasy. Or in a nifty story. Under Tommy's white gown, the boy would be wearing the naughtiest white lingerie and stockings. And his large cock and accommodating bottom would he awaiting his husband-to-be's ardent attentions. Clay pictured himself as the groom. Awaiting the arrival of his pretty bride. Shifting nervously. Comforted by Ali, his best man. Who was wearing only a black thong-pouch. Tommy would appear. Resplendently beautiful. Turning the heads of every man in the church. Perched on his five-inch-stiletto heels that pushed his bottom out in a blatant, come-fuck-me invitation. Tony Spreadlad would walk Tommy down the aisle, then present the bride to Clay, his husband-to-be. Who could think of little else than the wedding night! Fucking that magnificent bottom and sucking his darling's thick monster. Oh. In real life, Clay dove his head onto Tommy's cock. Taking it into his mouth and tonguing the underside most deliciously. Tommy groaned with appreciation and something approaching love. Oddly, he was also thinking about himself in a wedding gown. Marrying a man. Though probably not Mr. Mountbum. It wasn't that Mr. Mountbum was too old for Tommmy. It was that Tommy wanted a man who was dedicated to Tommy and Tommy alone. Someone who adored -- worshipped -- Tommy. And would be totally faithful to the boy. Though Tommy would surreptitiously cheat on his husband every chance he got. Tommy wanted to dress and act like a girl full time. And his husband would have to buy him the prettiest clothes and take him to the best places to show them off. Tommy thought about waiting to get married. Maybe even until he was 12 or even 13 (!). But he wasn't getting any younger and maybe marriage was a better solution than adoption. After all, you can't divorce an adopted Daddy if things don't work out. And if they were going to be fucking all the time anyway, why not call it a marriage? Tommy couldn't really think anymore because Mr. Mountbum was doing an excellent job of sucking Tommy's cock. Meanwhile. In another part of the Springfield Sissyboy Shelter. A new boy was arriving, bringing the population to a very lucky 13. The boy's name was Rolf. He was ten years, six months and eight days old and he was; like most new boys at a sissyboy shelter, quite disoriented. Rolf's loving grandmother had brought the boy to her local police station for sanctuary from Rolf's father, her son. The boy's father had tried to have his gayness exorcised by a local charlatan "holy man" who treated Rolf with large doses of ignorance and intolerance. The sensible grandmother was pleased when the police captain assured her that, should Rolf consent, he would personally give the boy a thorough fucking that very night. Then, in order to ensure that the boy was in fact a true, complete and committed sissyboy, he would be offered the cocks of several of the station's police officers. After which, should the boy desire, he would be transferred to one of the state's sissyboy shelters, where he would be exceedingly well cared for by the loving staff. Rolf adored his three days at the police station -- which was the maximum time, by law, that police or fire "shelter responders" were allowed to retain a boy to "validate his sissiness." The boy said his tearful farewells to the hunky policemen who had fed him his first man's cream. The "abominations" that had engendered his former father's outrage merely involved a little, perfectly normal, mutual "hands-down-the--pants" groping and tonguey kissing with a few boys his age. So when the police captain offered to fuck Rolf that first night, the boy felt as if he had died and gone to Disney World. Rolf wasn't convinced that he would like taking up residence at the Springfield Sissyboy Shelter, but the man who had driven Rolf from his hometown to Springfield was very reassuring about the place. "Springfield is our best shelter, Honey," Joe the Driver told Rolf. "They'll love you there. Oohh. That's very nice, Sweetie, but no teeth, OK? Oh my. I hope you know how to swallow a big load, because cum stains and my khakis won't mix. And here it cums!" Fortunately for Joe, Rolf was a natural at swallowing. So Rolf, as well as Joe's khakis arrived at Springfield Shelter safely and stain-freely. Fifteen minutes before Joe and Rolf's arrival, Mr. Spreadlad received a "new boy" page, so he disengaged himself from young Bobby -- reluctantly -- dressed in shorts and a tshirt, and went to the shelter door to receive his new lad. Oh my. Another pretty one. It seems the stars had once again decided to shine on Tony Spreadlad. Poor Rolf was trembling a bit, despite Tony's warm kiss and hug of greeting. The men he was sure he would meet didn't scare him. He had already figured out that he had great power over mortal men. He was nervous about the other boys. In Rolf's experience, except for the boys with whom he had played "slap and tickle," boys were mean to Rolf. They would tease him and make fun of him as a sissyboy. All the while, hypocritically wishing they could pull his pants down and stick their cocks into his pretty bottom. And what if all the other boys in the shelter were prettier than he was? He didn't want to be the ugly duckling. Tony was used to those kinds of fears and knew how to handle them. Within 30 seconds of Tony's welcoming hug and kiss, Bobby appeared. Giving Rolf a second sweet hug and kiss. Then Greggie was there. And Ali. All giving the new boy a nice hug and kiss. Which did three things. First and most "obviously," it excited Rolf sexually. Second, it convinced Rolf that he was at least as pretty as some of the boys. Third, it began to make Rolf feel welcome in his new home. But that first issue required immediate attention. Though Rolf had had some satisfaction during the long drive by sucking Joe the Driver off twice, Joe couldn't return the favor while keeping them safely on the road. So Rolf was randy! Three naked, pretty boys had just hugged and kissed him. And a very handsome man was fucking him with his eyes. Suddenly the boys were leaving...telling Rolf that they had "dates," but they would see him at dinner, which was invariably at 6:30 p.m. And Rolf was alone with Tony Spreadlad. Who seemed eager to give the boy his orientation fuck. Orientation being what orients one to where one is and/or wants to be. Rolf wanted to be in bed with Tony's cock oriented in his Spermbutt-sopping bumhole. And so it came to pass. Fifteen short minutes later. All was right with the world at Springfield Sissyboy Shelter. A very good place to be. I welcome your comments at beautifulcreamer@yahoo.com. Other stories on nifty: "Sweetyboys" (gay young friends) August 31, 2007 "Boarding-School Bedmates" (bisexual adult-youth, though it's quite gay) May 5, 2008 "After-School Stroke Club" (gay high school) May 28, 2008 "Pretty" (gay adult-youth) May 21, 2008 "Hotel Management" (gay adult-youth) June 2, 2008 "Dating Pretty Boys" (gay young friends) July 2, 2008 "Sissyboy Stepson" (gay adult-youth) July 30, 2008 "Sissyboy Showoff" (gay adult-youth) August 14, 2008 "Sissyboy Sleepover" (gay incest) August 26, 2008 "Cockteaser's Comeuppance" (gay adult-youth) September 5, 2008 "Schoolboy Pleasures" (gay adult-youth) October 23, 2008 "Home-Schooled Sissyboys" (gay incest) October 25, 2008 "Sissyboy-Daddy Reunion" (gay incest) November 24, 2008 "Sissyboy Shooting Lessons (gay adult youth) December 4, 2008 "Stepson Seduction" (gay incest) December 13, 2008 "The New Sissyboy" (gay incest) December 22, 2008 "Sissyboy Hangout" (gay incest) February 13, 2009 "The Little Prickpleaser" (gay incest) February 20, 2009 "Twelve" (gay incest) March 10, 2009 "Sissyboy Facts of Life" (gay incest) March 11. 2009 "Lord Upcock's Darlings" (gay adult-youth) March 12, 2009 "Sissyboy Spunk Party" (gay adult-youth) March 20, 2009 "Corporate Cockpleasers" (gay adult-youth) April 1, 2009 "Sissyboy Nephews" (gay incest) May 5, 2009 "Sissyboy Pediatrics" (gay adult-youth) May 14, 2009 "Next-Door Sissyboy" (gay incest) May 19, 2009 "Sissyboy Sanctuary" (gay adult-youth) May 20, 2009 "Sissyboy Prom Night" (gay incest) June 20, 2009 "Model Sissyboy" (gay adult-youth) November 5, 2009 "Try Men" (gay adult-youth) January 5, 2010 "Sissyboy Spinoffs" (gay adult-youth) January 15, 2010 "Sissyboy Restitution" (gay adult-youth) January 27, 2010 "Sissyboy Spinoffs" (gay adult-youth) January 28, 2010 "Sissyboy Wives" (gay adult-youth) February 3, 2010 "Secret Sissyboys" (gay adult-youth) April 8, 2010 "Sissyboy School Spirit" (gay adult-youth) May 5, 2010 "Try Boys" (gay adult-youth) May 26, 2010 "Try Men" (gay adult-youth) June 21, 2010 "Teaching Sissyboys" (gay adult-youth) July 26, 2010 "Sissyboy Princesses" (gay adult-youth) August 4, 2010