A Keys to the Kingdom Porn Parody, detailing the Amatory Adventures of Arthur Penishankering the Insatiable Cockslut

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of Garth Nix. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended. This is a work of purely speculative fiction. It is not intended to infringe on any rights by and of the companies and/or individuals involved in the production of The Keys to the Kingdom series.

 

 

 

🙦𐐗 Chapter Two 𐐗🙤

 

 

Arthur was still in the hospital twenty-four hours after the strange events of Monday morning. He had spent most of that time unconscious, and still felt woolly-headed. His arse and jaw ached something awful— the standard side-effects of his `treatment'. Although his amativeness had mostly returned to normal levels (normal for Arthur that is, which was still astronomically high), the doctors wanted him to stay for a few more days, `just to be sure'. Sure of getting a willing hole to fuck, Arthur thought, a little sourly. Though he was kept well-stuffed while he was there, Arthur nonetheless chafed at his confinement to a hospital bed.

Arthur's mother was a very high-profile government-employed medical researcher, so not only was his family's health insurance top-notch, but medical professionals all over the country knew Dr. Emily Penhaligon and her work. Arthur always received priority treatment, even ahead of other, sicker patients, and was kept in the hospital long after any danger had passed. He mostly put that down to Emily's standing in the medical world, though it probably didn't hurt that the preteen's eager cunt provided a much-appreciated sexual outlet for the male hospital staff.

Arthur's father was a musician. Quite a talented one too, though not particularly commercially-minded. Twenty years ago, he'd been the lead guitarist in a famous band called `Earrape', and sometimes still got recognised when they were out in public. Back then he'd been called `Aural Desecration', but had since reverted to his original name: Robert `Bob' Penhaligon. He'd gotten a lot of money from his time in Earrape, since he'd written most of the songs, some of which had hit the top of the charts. These days, Bob looked after the kids and noodled away on one of his four pianos or eleven guitars, while Emily spent more time than she would have liked in her laboratory doing things with DNA and computers that benefited all of humanity, but took her away from her family.

Emily and Bob had seven children between them, of which Arthur was the youngest. The eldest three: Erazmuz, a major in the army, Staria, a porn actress and Iminim, a musician like Bob, were from Bob's liaisons with different women when he was touring with Earrape. The fourth, Suzanne, who was at college, was from Emily's previous marriage. The next two were Bob and Emily's. Michaeli and Eric were the only ones besides Arthur still living at home, Michaeli attending a local polytechnic and Eric in his last year of high school.

Arthur was adopted. His mother had been Emily's lab assistant. Neither Arthur nor his mother had the faintest idea who the father was (his mother `got around', as they say). She'd died in the last big influenza epidemic, right before it was halted by the new vaccine Emily's team had developed. Arthur had been just shy of his eighth birthday when it happened. He'd survived the flu, but the first signs of his nymphomania had manifested at that time. Some hypothesised that his condition was some sort of strange by-product of the infection. Arthur didn't put much store by that. As far as he was concerned, his cumlust was just a part of who he was.

Arthur had no close relatives aside from his mother, and the Penhaligons' application for adoption had succeeded without difficulty. Emily had wanted to adopt him for the sake of her departed colleague, and Bob, while initially leery, soon came around when he discovered what an avid cockhound little Arthur was.

It didn't bother Arthur that he was adopted. Bob and Emily regarded him as their own son, and Arthur viewed them as his parents. He did miss his mother though, and often reminisced about the time they'd spent together. Like when she'd taken Arthur to his first sex club, or bought him his first pair of panties, or shown him his first porno. His most vivid memory was when she had let him ride her then-boyfriends cock for the first time, the tumescent shaft still slick with her pussy juices. She'd coaxed him through the pain with praise and kisses, and held him tightly through the pleasure that followed, eyes gleaming with proud tears as he'd experienced his first, mind-shattering anal orgasm.

Arthur had an album full of pictures of his mother, most cut out of adult magazines, and it was easy to see where he got his looks from. She had been a gorgeous woman, with a short, voluptuous build, waves of curly black hair reaching to her waist, flashing dark eyes, and a sinfully inviting smile. People who'd known her would tell Arthur that he resembled her more and more each year—those comments always made Arthur crimson with happiness. His mother, Arthur often thought with pride, had been a whore through-and-through, and even though she was gone, her cum-guzzling spirit lived on in him. Every dick he rode, every load he swallowed, was an act of homage to her, and sometimes, when Arthur was being screwed out of his senses, he imagined her looking down on him with an approving smile on her face, saying, That's my little cock-goblin.

Bob and Emily, while no substitute for his mother, were loving parents. They cherished all their children without distinction, parentage notwithstanding. Arthur's relationship with his brothers, lubricated as it was by regular sex, was also excellent. However, he was disliked by his sisters (with the exception of Staria), who were jealous not only of his beauty, which far outstripped theirs, but also the attention paid him by the men of the family. They'd tried in the past to tell their mother about how the little boyslut was having his incestuous way with her husband and sons, but Emily, who doted on Arthur, wouldn't hear a word against him.

How his sisters reacted to Arthur's compulsive seduction of every male in sight was far from unusual. While the boy's uncommon loveliness incited lust in members of his own sex, in the opposite sex it provoked envy, and no little animosity. Almost every female who laid eyes on Arthur instantly identified him as competition. When he passed by couples in the mall or on the street, the women would quickly tug their husband or boyfriend past with a glare at Arthur. Mothers of his classmates warned their sons to stay away from him (not that it did any good).

Arthur was unbothered by this. He wasn't competition—how could their wrinkled, used-up cunts possibly compete with his smooth, snug boypussy? The only women who seemed to like Arthur at all were those he had once heard described as `loose women'—prostitutes and high school sluts. Possibly because they too were looked down on by monogamous prudes, and because they recognised him as a kindred spirit, a fellow rider of the cock carousel, they were happy to take him under-wing, and even show him a few tricks of the trade. This affinity was reciprocated—Arthur found the women reminded him of his mother.

Emily, for her part, didn't approve of her son's licentiousness, nor did she disapprove of it— she was simply unaware of it. As far as Emily Penhaligon was concerned, her youngest child's compulsive need for intercourse was a terrible affliction. Seeing Arthur strapped to a bed, bawling with excruciating want as he was plugged by a succession of doctors and nurses, orderlies, security guards, and even cleaners, or— when the boy had exhausted every man in the building—by the biggest dildo the hospital could find, was a traumatising experience for her. Thus, she had resolved that the best way to manage Arthur's condition, and avoid triggering a nymph-fit, was to keep him away from any kind of sexual stimuli. Accordingly, porn and erotic material were banned from the Penhaligon household and Eric was prohibited from bringing girlfriends (or boyfriends) home. Emily had even stopped sleeping with Bob, in case Arthur overheard them.

What Dr. Penhaligon didn't understand, was that it wasn't sexual stimulus by itself that brought on Arthur's episodes, but rather, stimulation without gratification. When worked into a state of extreme arousal, Arthur needed to be stuffed with large, meaty prick. Denial of this satisfaction was enough to tip Arthur into a mindless cock-frenzy. In short, too much teasing could literally kill the boy. To avoid this grim fate (and also because he was a fuck-hungry whore), Arthur made it the primary business of each day to secure the two staples of his diet: cock and cum, which, fortunately for Arthur, his sex-deprived father and brother were only too willing to provide.

 

Emily had checked on Arthur twice, each time surrounded by dozens of people in white coats, and Bob, Michaeli and Eric had come to see him that morning. Unfortunately, with Michaeli there, he hadn't got more than a tight hug (and surreptitious grope) from his dad and big brother.

Since all of his family in town had already visited, Arthur was surprised when two more people turned up on Tuesday afternoon—kids his age. For a second he didn't recognise them, since they weren't in black. Then it clicked. They were the boys who had found him on the field, and gone to get help. This time they were wearing the school uniform, the grey trousers, Arthur noted gratefully, doing nothing to conceal their impressive packages.

`Hiya', said the one with long blonde hair, standing in the doorway. `Can we come in?'

`Uh, yeah, sure,' Arthur stammered, but the boy was already sauntering over to Arthur's bed, his brother, the one with short dark hair, trailing behind him.

`We didn't meet properly yesterday', said the blonde. `I'm Dick.'

`Dick?' asked Arthur. `As in, short for Richard?'

`No', said Dick, rolling his eyes and smirking, `As in the thing that makes babies. Our dad's a free love hippy, and Mum's a sexologist.'

`Mum calls herself "Ovum", and Dad's "Testes"', said the other twin. `Dad got to pick our names. I'm supposed to be "Balls", but I don't use it. Call me Ed.'

`Right', said Arthur cheerfully. `Dick and Balls—er, Ed. My dad used to be called Aural Desecration.'

`No!' exclaimed Dick and Ed in unison. `You mean from Earrape?'

`Yeah', Arthur replied, a little astonished. Normally only crusty old millennials knew the names of individual members of Earrape.

`We're into music', said Dick, seeing his surprise. `That's why we were wearing real clothes yesterday. Defenestrate Your Anus were doing a lunchtime concert, and we didn't want to look stupid.'

`But we missed it anyway,' said Ed. `Because of you.'

Arthur was taken aback. `You mean because I almost died? Well excuse me for being such a fucking inconve—' he started to snap, but Dick cut him off.

`Calm your tits, bitchboy', he said, rolling his eyes, `What Ed means is we missed the gig because we had something more important to do after we...well, I... saw those two weird guys with the wheelchair thing.'

`Wheelchair thing? Weird guys?' Arthur repeated. He'd convinced himself that everything he'd seen yesterday had been a product of his arousal-addled imagination, though he hadn't been able to bring himself to test this by checking his school shirt for the notebook. That was still hanging in the wardrobe.

`Yeah, really fucking weird', Dick replied. `I saw them appear in a flash of light, and they disappeared in the same way, just before everyone reached you. It was fucking bizarre, but nobody else blinked an eye. I reckon I saw them cuz I've got second sight from our great-great-grandmother. She was a Russian witch.

`She was Russian, anyway', Ed said. `I didn't see any of that stuff. But when we went back later to look around, these blokes came out of the park and started saying "Go away. Go away." They were weird.'

`Yeah, kind of dog-looking, with faces like fucking Rottweilers or something', Dick broke in. `Beady little eyes. Their breath stunk, and they just kept saying "Go away." Had their dicks out too. Dog-dicks, not human ones.'

`And he'd know the difference', Ed winked at Arthur. `Dickie here's plenty familiar with dog's cocks.'

Dick punched Ed in his cock. `Fuck off, cunt.'

`Ow, fuck!' Ed wheezed. Arthur winced in sympathy. He hated seeing male sex organs get hurt. It was ingrained into every slutty bone in his body that dongs were to be treated with reverence and care.

`Anyway,' said Dick, resuming the conversation, `The dog-dicks kept sniffing. Sniffing the ground like actual dogs. There were over ten of them- all wearing old-timey suits and bowler hats. We told the office there were trespassers on the school grounds, but when the Octopus came out to check, he couldn't see them. Wankman was there too, and he couldn't see them either, even though they were right in front of us. I got a week's detention for "being a time-wasting little shit".'

`I visited the Octopus later and sucked him off,' Ed said smugly, `so mine got knocked down to two days.'

`The Octopus? And who's Wankman?' asked Arthur curiously, though he could guess the last one pretty well.

`The Octopus is the Deputy Principal, Mr Boil', Dick answered We call him that coz he likes to stick his "tentacles" up us boys' arses -and because he confiscates all our shit. And "Wankman's" Weightman. We call him that because— `

`—because he's a fucking pedo who plays with himself while he watches the boys in the gym', Ed completed with a laugh. `He even showers with us.'

`Though I think Arthur knows all about what a perv he is,' Dick added knowingly.

Arthur blushed, remembering those coarse, probing fingers, fingers that had nearly killed him, as it turned out.

`So, Arthur,' said Dick, `what's going on? Who were those two guys?'

`I—I don't know', Arthur said honestly. `I thought it was a hallucination.'

`Maybe it was,' Ed offered. `Only you both had it.'

Dick punched him in the crotch again, hard. Arthur really hoped the boy's penis wasn't damaged. He had plans for that penis.

`Of course, that doesn't explain why the Octopus and Wankman couldn't see the guys in the bowler hats,' Ed continued quickly, massaging his groin with a pained expression, and shooting a glare at Dick. `Unless the three of us, I dunno, accidentally inhaled weed or some shit.'

`If it wasn't a hallucination,' Arthur said carefully, `then there'll be a small notebook in the pocket of my school shirt. Hanging up in the wardrobe.'

Dick went over to the wardrobe and opened it. He hesitated for a moment, and then reached in. After a second, he withdrew his hand. In it was the notebook.

`It feels strange,' he said in a hushed voice. `Tingly. Like it's got static on it. Maybe from rubbing on the shirt?'

`What's it say on the cover?' Ed asked.

`I don't know,' replied Dick, `I can't read the words.' There were symbols on the cover, but he couldn't decipher them. It was as if he couldn't focus on them, somehow. He felt like he should give the book to Arthur. `Here, it's yours', Dick said, handing it to him.

`Actually, it kinda fell out of the sky...' Arthur said, trailing off as he took the notebook and looked at it. It was hardcovered, and bound in green cloth. Embossed on the front cover was golden type that rearranged itself under Arthur's eyes. The letters shifted and tumbled over themselves to form words.

`A Compleat Atlas of the House and Immediate Environs', Arthur read aloud. `The letters all rearranged themselves to spell it out.'

`Hi-tech?', Ed suggested tentatively.

`Magic', said Dick firmly. `Open it, Arthur.'

Arthur tried, but the book's covers wouldn't budge, no matter how much force he applied (which, admittedly, wasn't a lot, the willowy 12-year-old not possessing much in the way of upper body strength). It was like they were welded shut.

`Let's leave it for now', he panted, putting the book to one side, and throwing back the covers to try and cool down. The slightest physical exertion made the girlyboy dreadfully overheated. It was one of the reasons (other than the obvious) why he wore as few clothes as possible.

Arranging his blue plastic gown so the twins could see the hospital-issued dildo inserted into his rectum, he asked if either of the boys had seen the dog-men find anything.

`Um, like what?' said Ed.

`A piece of metal.' Arthur elaborated. `Silver, with gold decorations. Shaped like a long, thin, pointy cock.'

The brothers shook their heads.

`We didn't see them find anything', said Dick. `The...uh the dog-faces were gone this morning. But the whole oval had been dug up, and the turf replaced. I can't believe they did it overnight.'

`The whole oval?' asked Arthur incredulously. Why would they do that? He'd buried the cock-rod somewhere in the middle. Surely they'd stop digging once they found it?

`That's right, the whole oval', Dick confirmed. `They, um...' But then he fell silent, his face red and breathing heavy.

Throughout this entire portion of the conversation, Dick and Ed had become increasingly distracted. They were gawping at the spot between Arthur's thighs.

Arthur smirked.

`Know why I've got this in me?' he questioned coyly, spreading his legs, and stroking the lips of his hole where they were stretched around the moulded rubber.

They shook their heads again.

 

Arthur told the boys about his nymphomania, explaining that his collapse on the field hadn't been the result of any ordinary seizure. By the time he'd finished, their eyes were almost bulging out of their sockets.

`Fuuuuck, if I'd known...' whistled Ed, eying the end of the dildo that was sticking out Arthur's anal cavity.

`Um, you still could, if you wanted...' Arthur offered with faux shyness (acting timid and reluctant only seemed to inflame men's desire). `Y'know, as a reward for saving me and everything...'

The twins' eyes went, if possible, even wider, before their faces split into identical grins.

`Hell yes!' Dick shouted, while Ed eagerly squirmed out of his trousers. Before long, the synthetic cock lay discarded on the floor, as Arthur had his throat stuffed with Ed's juicy boymeat, and Dick dicked the nymphboy's hungry hole with abandon.

Arthur had taken two loads apiece, and Ed, who'd switched places with Dick, was just working up to a third, when a male nurse walked in. The man grinned internally, his prick swelling at the sight of the randy preadolescent threesome, but he put on a stern expression.

`All right you two,' he said, `visiting time's over. We can't get Master Penisha— I mean, Penhaligon, too excited, or he'll end up having another fit.' The brothers removed their boyhoods reluctantly, Dick bending down to claim Arthur's mouth in a wet, forceful kiss, before shimmying back into his uniform.

`We'll come back later Arthur!' Ed called over his shoulder as they left.

`Tomorrow', the nurse said, in a tone that brooked no argument. The man, who was called Nurse Thomas, turned to retrieve Arthur's hospital gown from where it had been tossed on the floor, laying it on the bedside table along with the dildo.

`You know I don't like being called Master', Arthur pouted at him reproachfully, `I'm a bottom bitch. I need you to be the Master.'

`Okay, sorry Arthur', chuckled Nurse Thomas, who was well-acquainted with the boy's submissive nature, `I've been on the children's ward all day.'

`Oh?' the boy inquired with a lascivious smile, `Were any of them as pretty as me?'

That earned him a sharp slap, making him yelp, while the nurse efficiently turned him on his stomach.

`You behave,' the man said, `or when I'm done you'll get nowt up you but yon rubber willie.'

Arthur made a face, but quieted while the nurse swabbed his left arse-cheek, and prepared a syringe. Normally Arthur enjoyed teasing his nurses, but this time he barely paid the man any heed, his mind going over all he'd discussed with Dick and Ed.

Mister Monday and Sneezer. Who could they possibly be? From what they'd said, the silver phallus was part of some Key, which Mister Monday had given to Arthur in the expectation that the boy would die, after which he'd take it back. Sneezer had arranged the plan, but he'd been double-crossing Monday, or something. At the end, Sneezer was in the grip of some other power, Arthur was sure of it. Those glowing words—the ones that had given him the book, which he couldn't open.

Arthur had taken the cock-Key, and he hadn't died. Did that mean he still owned it? The dog-dicked men likely worked for Mister Monday. If they'd dug up the field, then they'd have definitely found the Key, and had probably taken it back to him by now. Perhaps that would be the end of the whole affair...

 

But, somehow, Arthur didn't think so. He felt, with a deep, gut-level certainty, that this—whatever this was—was only beginning. He'd been given the Key and the Atlas for a reason, and he meant to find out what. After slutty submissiveness, Arthur's strongest trait was curiosity. It had gotten him into a few bad scrapes, and more than a few great fucks. However this mystery unwound, Arthur was going to get to the bottom of it.

And I'll start by getting the Key back, he thought with an uncharacteristic ferocity. He pushed his hands under his pillow as the needle pricked his backside.

Then Arthur flinched.

`Won't take long, lad', the nurse soothed, `Just hold still, there's a good babyslut.'

But it wasn't the injection that made him start. Under the pillow, cold against Arthur's fingers, was a thin rod of metal. The Key. It hadn't been there a few minutes before. Arthur always put his hands under the pillow when he lay down. Maybe it appeared when Dick gave him the Atlas? Like those magical items in stories, that always returned to their owners.

In the stories... In the stories, objects like that were often cursed—you couldn't get rid of them even if you wanted. Arthur shivered again, and then lay still.

 

As a reward for the preteen's compliance, Nurse Thomas gave Arthur a thorough buttfucking. After his release, he worked the dildo in and out of Arthur's sloppy hole, until the boy arched his back and sprayed his stomach, chest and face with pearly cum. Then the man went on his rounds, whistling a jaunty tune, leaving the toy lodged in the (for now) sated cumslut.

The Key remained under Arthur's pillow.