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This is a WORK OF FICTION and not meant to be taken seriously in any way, shape, or form. The author of this work does NOT condone child abuse in ANY WAY. This story depicts sexual acts between adult males and male minors. If you are under 18 or if this sort of literature is illegal in your country, STOP READING NOW.

Now that that's out of the way, enjoy this story, and don't forget to message me! Don't cum until the end!

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Sweet Day, Introduction

Simon woke up in rough shape. He was happy it was summertime—even though the nerdy little boy loved school, he could tell from the minute he opened his eyes that he was in no shape to do anything today. He didn't feel sick, exactly—no fever or runny noise. But he was exhausted, even though he slept so hard he didn't remember any dreams.

                  His vision was blurry, in part because he wasn't wearing his glasses. The little boy rolled over to where he kept his specs on his bedside table. He started to put them on, then looked at them in shock. The middle piece that went across the nose had apparently been snapped, and a piece of black duct tape now held them together.

                  "Oh no," Simon whispered. His dad was gonna kill him when he found out. But why couldn't he remember how he had broken them? Surely something so terrible would stick with him, right?

                  He put the glasses on and realized it was worse than he thought. Not only were they snapped in two at some point, but they sat on his face all crooked. Dad was gonna be so mad.

                  Slowly Simon peeled back the covers and sat up, and that's when he realized how terrible he was really feeling. Simon was a grade-schooler, and so he had no idea what a hangover was. But if he had known about them, he would have realized that he was experiencing many of the symptoms men feel after a long night of drinking. Confusion. Achy body. Headache. Trouble seeing. Dry mouth. Queasiness. And a very strange blackout—he just could not remember anything after the parade.

                  There were other symptoms, too—symptoms that he simply couldn't explain. As he got out of bed, he realized that his throat was sore—really sore. Like way worse than a normal sore throat—he tried to say something in a full voice, but no noise came out. The kid had lost his voice entirely.

                  His jaw and lips hurt, too. What had the little guy done to his mouth? He felt the corners of his lips, and to his surprise they were raw and cracked. He fumbled in his bedside drawer for some chapstick and applied it liberally, but it didn't do much to help the tearing, burning feeling his little pink lips had.

                  Simon toddles over to the bathroom—he really does toddle, because he's finding it pretty difficult to walk. Something deep in his tummy feels wrong—like it's been broken. And there's something else, too—

                  But the thought is stopped by a sneeze. Simon gives out a big, "Achoo!" into his hands, and feels his nose running. Maybe he is coming down with a cold. He wipes his nose with his hand and looks down. It's the weirdest looking snot he's never seen—not green or yellow, but white. And it's a different consistency too—sticky and milky at the same time. And it left a funny smell behind in his nose; it's bitter and salty and musky somehow. What was going on with him?

                  He doesn't have time to worry about that, because the sneeze made him recognize the biggest pain of all—the pain in his bum. Something feels very, very wrong back there. Each step feels a bit like someone has set his butt hole on fire, and as he walks, he can feel air moving around where there shouldn't be air.

                  He slowly makes his way from the bathroom to the middle of his bedroom, where there's a standing mirror. He looks at himself—he looks rough. He's in the undies he wore to the parade yesterday, little tiny blue briefs with a big, cartoonish smiley face right on the crotch. His favorite. He's got his little night shirt on, too, a plain white tank top.

                  His lips are redder and more swollen than he expected, and his curly brown hair is way messier than usual. He has big, purple circles under his eyes, as though he hadn't just had one of the heaviest sleeps of his life. He looked up and down his body and noticed something odd—there were red marks around his wrists. Touching them, they felt tender and raw. He looked down and saw there were matching red marks on his ankles, too. And his neck.

                  Simon pulls off his shirt and is relieved not to see any other weird, mysterious marks on his body. Then slowly he lowers his little briefs, pulling them over his round ass and letting them fall to the floor.

                  He winces at the sight before him. He sees another bright red mark—circular as well. But this one is more fiery and angry, kind of like a burn. And it's circling around his completely smooth, tiny little cocklet and little bitty ball sack.

                  He's scared to do it, but he has to know what's going on with his backdoor. He slowly, slowly turns around, craning his neck so he can see his backside in the mirror. And when he gets a glimpse of his ass, he tries to cry out in shock. But once again, he's reminded that his voice is completely gone.

                  Also gone is the smooth, plump, untouched ass of his past. In its place is something else—something that no normal boy like Simon could ever comprehend, especially with the amnesia he was struggling with this morning.

                  His petite yet firm little white cheeks were bright red, interlaced with thick, purple bruises. But that wasn't even the shocking part. It's the very center of his butt, where his little sphincter is supposed to be—it's not there.

                  Instead, there's some fucking train tunnel or something. Simon's little anal canal looks like it's been surgically removed, leaving only a black hole in its place. The ring around the edge of it is no longer like a rubber band and pink as a kitten's nose. Now his sphincter muscle more resembles a big, fat, purple earthworm that's been rolled in some sort of weird, phlegm-like substance.

                  Simon dreads the next time he has to go to the bathroom—because no way is that sphincter going to hold in anything. Simon is a big science nerd—it's his best subject—but even he knows better than to think a body part that damaged will be in working order any time soon.

                  He could actually see inside himself, and the act of doing so made him feel really sick. He bent forward slightly, wincing, to get a better look, even though he wanted to shut his eyes and cry just looking at the damage. He looked deep into his little boy love tunnel. It looked like a fatal car accident. Ouchies.

                  Suddenly, our little hero doubles over in pain. Something in his stomach hurts, really bad. His tummy gurgles a bit, and much to his relief, he realizes he just has to get out a painful fart. Probably has something to do with the state his anus is in. What a smart little boy! A real whiz kid, huh?

                  Out of curiosity, he watches his hole as it spasms and tries to wink close, moving the painful fart closer out. And then it happens—the gas escapes, but with it comes a SHIT TON of the stuff that was seeping out of his nose. Simple Simon shakes so much he looks like he has Parkinson's disease, as the little guy shits out at least two cups of the mysterious white gunk. The boy's colon blasts it out so hard that much of it sprays on his mirror, but the majority of the chunky stuff just seeps out his hole and down his smooth, tiny, trembling thighs. He tries desperately to will his little pooper shut, but it's useless. He's gaping far too much to do anything about the never-ending stream of weird white stuff.

                  Finally he farts out the last of the slop, and then falls to the floor. He's never felt so peculiar in his life, and it's scaring him to death.

                  He feels an asthma attack coming on, so he moves as quickly as he can (given the state of his ass) back over to his bedside table and pulls out his big, blue inhaler. He pops it in his mouth and pulls hard, three times, trying to get his breath back. He always has asthma attacks when he's in distress!

Finally, Simon can breathe, but he's still freaking out. Getting enough air has somehow gotten his voice back.

                  "DAAAAAAADY!! HELP ME!!" he screams, and then passes out on the floor of his bedroom.

One Day Earlier

                  The parade started at the grocery store parking lot, wove down West Street and then Main Street, then hooked a sharp left into the football field at the high school. It was the most anticipated day of the year for the town of Manfield, especially for the kids. Sweet Day was a holiday like none other—something invented uniquely for Manfield, which is why it brought the community together so well. It was a sacred day, a day of happiness and joy. But this year, for some men and boys in attendance, Sweet Day was going to be very, very spicy.

                  Sweet Day really was a day for kids. Adults in the town all got dressed up in silly costumes, learned funny dances, built awesome floats, and paraded around the town handing out candy. It was all for the youngsters, who adored seeing the grown ups they looked up to and admired doing something totally silly and weird and funny. So in a way, the men of 418 Tunnel Lane were maintaining the spirit of Sweet Day when they carried out their plan.

                  Families lined up around 8 a.m. for the big parade, which didn't start until 10. But it was such a highly anticipated event, and the kids were always so eager to get there that people left early to get a good spot. Plus, many of the parents had to be there early anyway, to dress up and make final parade preparations.

                  Honestly, the grownups of the town loved Sweet Day just as much as the kids. The morning was all about the youngsters, but after the parade, most of the adults in the town flooded the bars and restaurants lining main street, intent on getting drunk and dancing the rest of the day away. Babysitters knew that Sweet Day was one of the busiest days of the year for their particular career.

                  But up at 418 Tunnel Lane, things were much quieter. There was only one man left in the entire mansion—Dr. Luke Linden. Dr. Linden was a famous man about Manfield. He moved there after he retired three years ago at the young age of 36. He had made national headlines that year when he'd come up for a cure of every single STD in existence. Needless to say, he hadn't needed to keep working after that, so he bought himself the glorious, old mansion on the very top of the hill overlooking the town.

                  But Dr. Linden had other pet projects he was working on to help keep himself busy. Top-secret projects that almost no one knew about. And his biggest, most masterful project of all was set to roll out today, on Sweet Day.

                  You see, Dr. Linden had another interest besides medicine—boys. He loved little boys, a lot. Some would say too much. He thought about them all the time, and to be honest, they were part of the reason he had worked so hard to cure STDs. Because he thought that little boys went really well with unprotected group sex.

                  Boys were also one of the reasons Dr. Linden moved to Mansfield. He had paid it a visit randomly one day and was struck by just how many beautiful little boys called this town home. Just seeing them had filled his sick imagination with a plan, a plan that had taken two years to perfect, but that was now ready to be put into action. In just a few hours.

He had mixed up everything he'd needed, created the most beautiful candies. He knew the big, fat lollipops were going to be irresistible to the boys of Mansfield. They looked delicious, and he had tasted the sugary mix before he had added the special ingredients. They tasted amazing. The handful of boys who got to sample his new brand of lollipops were going to delight in the way they tasted.

The boys who tasted those lollipops were going to have one hell of a Sweet Day, for sure. One they wouldn't forget.

"Except they will forget," Dr. Linden mutters, then laughs to himself as he organizes his lollipops into color-coordinated groups. Pink, white, yellow, redÉand the most special one of all, the blue lollipop. They're all wrapped in shiny paper and ribbon, each one's wrapper matching the color of the candy.

Just looking at them made his cock throb. Thinking about what these candies were going to do for him and his friends. Thinking about how much of himself he had poured into the candies. Literally—the candies contained his sweat, tears, piss, spit, and semen. But they also had taken so much of his time—he'd become quite obsessive, spending all day and all night perfecting each flavor so that it would do exactly what he wanted, no more, no less.

He stepped away to give himself one more look over in the mirror. He loved his costume—it was just perfect. Mad scientist. Since he was the famous science genius in Mansfield, the parents would all get a kick out of his crazy wig, big glasses and lab coat covered in funny colors. But what the parents didn't know was that he really was a mad scientist, hell bent on finding the most beautiful boys of Mansfield and turning them into zoned out, zonked out, grossed out, sex-addicted freak show. He was hell-bent on creating little boys who literally could not say the word "no."

Well, depending on which flavor of lolli they got.

Dr. Linden smiled, gave out another evil laugh, then scooped the lollipops into his messenger bag and headed out the door, his sights set on the grocery store parking lot.

Down in that very parking lot, the air was buzzing with excitement. Adults were busy donning their wigs and colorful costumes, putting the last touches on the floats, and of course stocking their bags and buckets with delicious candy for the kiddies.

A few people wave hello to Dr. Linden, but most ignore him. It's known that he's somewhat of a recluse—that's why he purchased that mansion up on that hill so far from everyone else in town. You can't really see the mansion or any of the hill leading up to it unless you pass through some thick woods. He smiles in a friendly way at the few people he knows, but he's a man on a mission.

One by one he moves through the crowd, seeking out his "agents." There's going to be a shit ton of guys at his house later that afternoon for the festivities, but there's only a handful of guys he would trust with these precious lollipops. He had called his perv connections from all over the country, but these guys that were participating in Sweet Day were the real deal. They had moved to Mansfield years ago, become part of the community, taken up jobs and made friends. They infiltrated the small town community because they knew that eventually, their payoff would come. And today was that payoff. These were the pervs he trusted most, the ones he knew would be able to pick out exactly the right boys. Which is why he was smiling so big as he worked his way over to each one of them, handing out the lollipops.

Let's take a moment, now, to trace each one of those lollipops as it makes its way from the man in costume to the little boy or boys on the sideline. To help us keep track, the good doctor made one yellow lollipop, two white lollipops, two pink lollipops, one red lollipop, and one very special blue lollipop.

Yellow Lollipop

Dr. Linden gives the yellow lollipop to a man named Jeth, a 29-year-old redneck who moved to Mansfield four years ago. When the doctor learned how creative Jeth could be with his favorite substance on Earth—piss—he knew he had to include the guy in his games. That's why he bought Jeth a nice little trailer on the outskirts of Mansfield. Jeth was a solid, barrel-chested guy, young in the face but covered with a nice, light coat of fur. His standard uniform was a trucker had, a wifebeater, and a pair of ripped up jeans. Today, however, he was wearing his uniform. You see, Jeth was a volunteer fireman, because he loved big, gushing fire hoses.

And that's why he held on to his special lollipop until he passed the firehouse. Somehow, he knew that the perfect boy would be around that area somewhere. Along the way, he passed out normal candies to the kiddies, a few times spotting boys he thought would look fantastic splattered in hot, yellow piss, but ultimately moving on to someone else. But then they rounded the corner on Main Street and came to the firehouse, and sure enough, there was the perfect little boy.

He was a little thing, not much taller than Jeth's knees. He had the perfect shade of yellow-blonde hair. Jeth loved it when the boys hair color matched his stream, which was always a nice, vibrant yellow due to the beer he enjoyed on a regular basis. But he also knew the boy's hair was going to turn a lovely shade of brown once it was all soaked.

But what he really liked was the kid's space cadet thing he had going on. Unlike all the other kids in the vicinity, the kid outside the firehouse wasn't watching the parade. He wasn't squealing with excitement at the floats—instead he was just swinging around and around on a pole that went up one side of the fire station. He was clearly off in his own little world, imagining who knows what. That was the kind of boy Jeff adored—the kind that were sort of out there and a little dumb. Because let's be honest, you have to be pretty dumb to keep your mouth open when an adult is pissing in your face.

Jeth felt himself grow instantly hard, and he was immediately thankful for his baggy fireman's pants. Otherwise, the boy would have definitely seen his hearty 9-inch trouser snake as he approached and tossed the yellow lolli right at the kid's feet. The boy paused in his vacant spinning for a moment, looked down at the candy, smiled, bent, and picked it up. In no time, it was unwrapped, and the little guy was sucking down the sweet, yellow flavor of the lollipop that would change his life.

White Lollipops

                  Unlike Jeth, the Downing Twins—Kenneth and Trenton—know exactly who they're looking for. The identical hunks, age 29, are dressed in their old high school football uniforms. The two guys were known back in their high school days as the fastest players on the team, and had been credited for bringing the school to the state championship. Since then, they had settled down and taken on a normal jobs running a store, but they still kept in amazing shape and were minor celebrities in the town. All the women wanted them, because they were so classically good looking—tall, muscled, dark skin, black hair, olive green eyes. And rumor had it that they had identical 9-inch uncut cocks and four giant testicles between them. They had been famous in high school for more than just their sports skills—they were known as the "Drowning Downing Twins" because they could both shoot such copious amounts of cum, it was much too much for any girl to handle.

                  But the twins had a different idea for where they wanted to spill their cum. After meeting the other local celebrity in town—the famous doctor—they had become convinced that the best place for them to spill their twin sperm was all over the face, chest, neck, arms, back, hands, legs, and cunt of a small, adorable boy. Actually, two boys. The Downing Twins were seeking out the Hudson Twins, the most adorable set of identical boy twins at the local elementary school.

                   Mickey and Skylar Hudson were identical in appearance—they had the same straight reddish brown hair, the same big, innocent brown eyes, the same tiny frames and pale, freckled faces—but that was where their similarities ended. Mickey was known for being a rambunctious little snot—a brat that really drove adults insane with rage. Skylar, on the other hand, was the sweetest little boy you could imagine. He was a real bookworm, the smartest kid in the class. Though his know-it-all attitude and exaggerated politeness made many adults—including most of those who would be attending Dr. Linden's parade-after party—extremely annoyed and angry.

                  The Downing Twins had observed the Hudson twins many times—both Mickey and Skylar were HUGE fans of football and looked up to the Downing boys as though they were super heroes. Which is why it was so easy for the two football studs to approach the boys sitting on the curb. Skylar was quietly watching the parade, resting his adorable face on his hands. Mickey was busy poking something on the ground with a stick. But they both looked up and smiled real big when they saw the twins approaching, holding out two white lollipops.

                  "Thanks!" they said in unison, and then both quickly unwrapped the candies and popped them into their mouths, already hungry for that white substance.

Pink Lollipop #1

Reese was a stylish black guy. He was tall, handsome, and knew how to dress—black plastic glasses, expensive jeans, t-shirts that showed off his rippling, hulking muscles. Today, however, he was doing something completely different—he'd stripped down to just a leopard-print loincloth and a few fake vines entwined around him. It was a little racist, sure, but the kids like seeing a jungle man.

                  He had to get an extra long loincloth to cover his insanely long cock. He was blessed like many black men—9 inches soft, 13 when hard. And pretty thick too, though the length was really his crowing achievement. Reese loved his big dick, and so did lots of women.

                  And so would some little boy, for sure, if he could only find the right one. He was on the fence about a few boys—but those kiddos escaped fate when he caught sight of Danny Timbers. Danny was a adorable, tall and skinny little boy. He looked a bit older than his age—which was very young—because he was so much taller than the boys in his class. What Reese liked about him was his long legs, arms, and most importantly his long, skinny, pale neck. The kid's neck was almost absurdly long, and Reese knew that would work out well for his particular fetish.

                  "Boy want candy?" he grunted as he walked over to the kid and pretended to start picking through his curly brown hair, like an ape-man might. The kid laughed, then happily reached out and grabbed the pink lollipop Reese had tucked into the waist of his loincloth.

Pink Lollipop #2

                  Timmy Rosenberg wasn't having a great Sweet Day. He sat on the curb, looking down at his feet, trying not to notice all of the candy flying around him. He loved candy—it was his favorite food. But he hardly ever got to have any. Usually just one piece on Halloween, maybe have a chocolate on Hanukah and a lick of ice cream once during the summer. Sweet Day was no exception. Timmy had unfortunately been born to Dr. David Rosenberg, the most popular children's dentist in all of Manfield. And while parents loved to bring their kids to "Dr. Rose," as he was known, because he was so warm and caring and sweet to the kids, he was a completely different man to his own son. After he left his office, he became a strict disciplinarian, who absolutely REFUSED to let his own son develop tooth decay. Which is why he guarded Timmy like a hawk, making sure he didn't grab a single piece of candy, even though it was flying all around him, even hitting him in the head at times. (The grown ups could be a little over-zealous on Sweet Day, as you'll soon find out.)

                  But Timmy's luck seemed to change. As he was staring down at his feet, two big, hairy, bare male feet appeared at his toes. The boy slowly looked up a pair of two big, hairy legs, bulging with muscles. As his big blue eyes traveled further up, he scanned over pair of black shorts with a funny bulge in the front. He looked up and saw a striped black and white shirt, a whistle—oh a man dressed as a referee! How fun! Timmy loved soccer, but his dad wouldn't let him play, because if he got balls hit in his little face, he might lose his teeth! And we wouldn't want a little boy to have balls slapping against his face, would we?

                  The referee was a handsome man named Darren Digler. He wasn't a real referee—he was, in fact, actually an accountant. But he was a huge sports fan, and also a huge fan of boys with pink little mouth holes. Which is why he had been hunting for the dentist's son, Timmy. See, Darren loved Timmy more than any of the other boys in the town, because of his pink little pout. I guess you could say that Darren had an ultra-specific fetish—kids who had bright pink lips really got his rocks off. And Timmy's were the pinkest, poutiest, and TINIEST of all.

                  In fact, those pink lips matched the pink lollipop Darren had in the pocket of his shorts a lollipop that was the exact hue of Timmy's little baby lips. And that lollipop was eagerly accepted and unwrapped by the little boy. Darren turned away just as the kid was about to pop the candy in his mouth, afraid that if he kept watching his bonder would break through his jock strap.

                  If he had turned a second later, he would have seen Dr. Rosenberg reach down and quickly snatch the candy out of the boy's hand with lightening fast speed. "TIMMY!" the man boomed. "NO CANDY! You know the rules."

                  "But—but—the referee gave it to me!" Timmy whined. He was a real whiner.
                  "I don't care if God himself gave it to you. Do you want a mouth full of rotten teeth? Do you?"

                  "NooooÉ" Timmy said, sniffling. He was a real sniffler.

                  "Then this is mine."

                  Timmy watched in horror as his father popped the lollipop that was supposed to be his into his own adult mouth.

                  "What?" his dad said, chomping on the lollipop. "I have excellent dental health. I can have candy every once in a while." Chomp chomp. "You, on the other hand, are still getting the hang of brushing and flossing properly, and you won't get any sweets till you've got that down, boy."

                  "Y—yes, Daddy," Timmy said quietly, as he watched his father swallow the rest of the lollipop.

Red Lollipop

                  Sean Connoly and  Lenny Dimmit were best friends, and they were very close with Dr. Linden. That's why he had entrusted these two strapping young men with the important task of distributing the sole red lollipop. He'd also charged them with door duty—they were both big, dumb and strong, and that made them perfect door men. They'd agreed to guard the door in exchange for getting to be in control of the all-important red lollipop.

                  The guys, though friends, were often arguing. Sean was a ripped, red-haired piece of Irish trash, relocated from Boston and just about as crude as you could be. Lenny was a big, dumb, oaf of a black boy, most content when he was either pounding pussy or beating up some dipshit from the high school (even though he had dropped out years ago).

                  It should be no surprise that it was the first time for these big dumb oafs to march in the Sweet Parade. But they had a special reason to join in the fun this year.

                  Sean was dressed like a policeman—he thought it was funny, because he fucking hated the cops. He'd been arrested many times (as his prison tattoos showed on his pale skin), and he enjoyed wearing the uniform of his oppressors while perving on little kids.

                  Plus it matched the hilarious costume Lenny had on—an old-fashioned prison uniform, the kind that was vertically striped black and white. He even had a fake ball and chain around his ankle, which he carried in both his hands.

                  They had been arguing with each other under their breath the entire time they were walking, debating who would get to distribute the candy. They passed it back and forth, pointing out boys in the crowd, but they couldn't seem to come to an agreement.

                  Until, of course, they saw little Drew Loring, one of the cutest tykes in all of Manfield. Drew Loring was an energetic, cheerful little boy that was well-known about town. Being the son of a minister, he was sweet as pie and polite as all get-out, and people loved him for it. He was a small little thing—Sean worried that he might be under the age limit the doctor had set. But at the moment, he couldn't quite remember what that age limit was. Neither could Lenny. Neither of the guys were very good with numbers.

                  "Doood, fuckin' look," Sean whispered in his thick Boston accent. "That boy is perfect. Look at him!"

                  Lenny slowly turned his big, dumb gaze toward the boy Sean was pointing out, and a big, dumb grin spread across his face. The boy really was perfect. Small, cute, in a nice pair of red shorts and a blue t-shirt. He was bending over, picking up a piece of bubblegum off the curb, and showcasing his adorable, plump and pert little behind.

                  It was so tiny, it made both of the nasty guys laugh. A lot.

                  They rushed over to the boy, both holding the big, red lollipop in front of them. The kid's bright, polite eyes opened wide as they approached. "For me?" he said, smiling his sweet little grin. "Why, thank you, misters! I love lollipops! Happy Sweet Day!"

                  "Happy Sweet Day!" Sean and Lenny said in unison, giggling hysterically as the walked away.

                  Drew was a good little boy, but he also had a touch of ADD. He couldn't really focus, and was soon distracted by a colorful and shiny float passing by—the one for his church. He waved to his daddy up on the front of the float, and in doing so dropped his red lollipop.

                  Drew's big brother, Colby Loring, saw the whole thing. He waved to his dad up on the float, too, and then bent to pick up the lollipop.

Colby was going through a bit of a rebel phase. He was tired of being known as the "minister's kid," and so had adopted a bit of a skater persona. It showed in his shaggy brown hair—similar in color his little bro's neatly combed brown hair—and of course the fact that he always had a hoodie on and carried a skateboard. His father wasn't too thrilled, but that was the point.

Even though he had started to change a bit, he hadn't altered his attitude toward his little bro. He loved Drew so much, it hurt him sometimes. Colby was a big kid now—tough and strong and smart. But his little bro was still just a little guy, overly innocent and sometimes too eager to please. So Colby felt the intense need to protect his little brother from any harm that might come his way.

Drew, in turn, looked up to Colby like he was a fucking God.

Colby saw the red lollipop fall to the ground, and suddenly he felt a rumble in his stomach. He was way too cool for Sweet Day, he thought, but the lollipop looked too good to resist. One bite wouldn't hurt, right?

He looked side to side to make sure no one was watching, then bent down to pick up the lollipop. He hastily unwrapped it, then popped it into his mouth. It tasted amazing, and he quickly chomped down, swallowing half of it. Then he pulled it out of his mouth and put it behind his back, because little Drew was turning around, no longer distracted by the shiny church float.

"Hey, where'd my lolly go?" Drew said.

"OhÉuhÉI don't know. Some other kid must have snagged it, buddy," Colby said, tossing the rest of the lollipop into the gutter behind him. "Don't worry, there's plenty of other candy, and it's all pretty much the same."

This answer seemed to satisfy Drew, who never saw that precious red lolli again.

Blue Lollipop

                  There was no way anyone was going to give out the blue lollipop besides Dr. Linden himself. Only he, the lollipop creator, knew what it was capable of, and only he would be able to find the boy who deserved it. Dr. Linden knew the boy who deserved it well—he had saved his life once.

                  It had been only a small thing—nothing really—but it had made the papers, because Dr. Linden was already hailed as a national hero. The media couldn't resist the fact that he had saved the life of an adorable little boy—Simon Shotwell.

                  It had happened at a restaurant. Simon had been eating with his family, and Dr. Linden had been eating alone only a few tables away. He liked the restaurant because they had a private table in the back where he could enjoy a nice meal without being stared at like he was some animal in a cage.

                  Unfortunately, he didn't have a private bathroom, and when he got up to use the restroom, he happened to notice little Simon have a full-blown asthma attack at the table. The kid fell to the floor right in front of him, and his mother and father were screaming like that they had left his little inhaler at home.

                  Dr. Linden took control of the scene at once. He ordered the mother to go home and get his inhaler, while he crouched down to the little boy gasping like a fish out of water on the restaurant floor. Slowly he talked the boy down, calming him, getting him to focus on his breathing, until the kid's breath slowed. Eventually, the little nerdy boy with the glasses had stabilized enough that he was almost at a normal pace. He still sucked on his inhaler greedily (the little slut) when his mom arrived with it.

                  That experience had left a mark on Dr. Linden, but not because he had had the "amazing" opportunity to save a little boy's life. NoÉto be honest, Dr. Linden wasn't too fond of kids. At least not in that way—he saw them more as objects to be played with, and when they weren't working on his cock, he saw them as more of a nuisance than anything.

                  No, the reason he remembered that moment so vividly, was because it had awoken a need in him. The need to see that scene again. The need to see that adorable, nerdy child on the floor, blue in the face, gasping for air. But he didn't want to see Simon gasping for air because he was missing his inhaler—at least not ONLY for that reason. Rather, he wanted to see the little boy breathless because he'd spent several hours choking back Mr. Linden's long, ferociously ANGRY cock for hours. He wanted to see Simon gasp because he realized he just had his 100^th load dropped in his kiddie gutz.

                  But more than anything, he wanted to see Simon gasp because he wanted to see the little guy's cunt all gaped out and pretty. For some reason, saving that boy's life made Dr. Linden realized he was entitled to that cunt. And if he was going to have control of a cunt, he was going to take it on that magical journey from the adorable little pink button of a butthole it was now and turn it into something that resembled a mix of pink raw meat and bruises.

                  Let's be honest—he wanted the boy's shitter rendered completely useless. And that's why he gave Simon the blue lollipop.

I hope you enjoyed this story! If you liked it, please let me know at KentTheWriter@gmail.com or on Yahoo at KentTheWriter. And don't forget to visit my blog at KentsKorner.tumblr.com.