Date: Fri, 16 Dec 2016 10:36:10 -0500
From: Rhymer
Subject: Cody the Boy Stud, Chapter 1

Cody the Boy Stud

{Rhymer} (mast, 1st, oral, Fb, Fbb, FBbb, bb, Bbb, Bbbg, bbg, bg, Fg, Fbg,
group, bi, inc, con)[1!12]


Chapter 1: Pre-Teen Mutant Precious Stud Boy

I was tapping away at my computer, working on a sticky piece of code, when
the boys came tumbling into the house. I glanced at the clock on the
desktop; 3:01, right on schedule. As usual, I heard Cameron stomping
grumpily up the stairs, and also as usual, I heard my youngest, Cody,
calling for me. "Mom, we're home. Wait 'til you hear what Cam
said. Mooooo-oooom!"

"In the office, as usual," I called back, rolling my eyes. What was it now?

He ran into the office, his pale blond hair tousled, his cheeks rouged from
the cool spring air. After unceremoniously dumping his backpack on the
floor and peeling out of his coat, he asked innocently, "What does horny
mean?"

That brought me up short. I swiveled my chair around and looked him
over. He was a handsome kid, I had to say; in a few years, he'd be breaking
hearts. Both my sons would; they'd inherited good genes from me and their
father. I thought his little lumberjack flannel shirt and jeans looked
irresistibly cute. He would hate to be called that, though; he was a little
small for his age, but he was nine, after all. I asked, "Where did you hear
that word?"

He put his hands on his hips and scowled, and I did my best not to smile at
his outrage. "Cameron said I was horny for Missy Etheridge!"

I burst into song, "Come to my window, I'll be home soooooon."

He frowned even harder. "Not the singer-lady! Missy Etheridge in my gym
class!"

"Ooooohhhh," I replied. This should be interesting, I thought. Nothing like
skimpy gym shorts to kick-start a kid's libido. I straightened, and
schooled my face to seriousness. "And are you horny for Missy Etheridge?"

He sputtered, "How should I know? I don't even know what that means! It's
prob'ly somethin' nasty!"

Oh, he was so darling in his anger! But I didn't smile. I just said primly,
"Not really nasty, just a little naughty. It just means you want to... be
intimate with her."

"What's that mean!?!"

"To kiss her. To hug her. To take her clothes off and, you know, do it with
her," I replied impishly.

His knitted eyebrows shot into his hairline and he turned bright red. "Are
you talking about intercourse? Like in Sex-Ed class?" he gasped.

Since the passage of the Sexual Rights Amendment, sex education has been
mandatory in all school curricula from Grades 1-12. This was the same
Amendment that made all sexual relationships between individuals of
consenting age legal, regardless of number of people involved, age, gender,
race, or biological relationship, and made nonconsensual sex -- rape and
pedophilia -- punishable by life without parole. It also widened the range
of legal pornography and regulated the hell out of it, apparently in an
attempt to make it less predatory. I thought it was crazy, but it was
apparently working.

More to the point for me and mine, it lowered the age of consent to 10
years old, to go into effect five years after the enactment of the
Amendment. That date would be six months before Cody turned 10.

Oh, my. Things might get very interesting around here soon.

"Well, yes," I admitted.

Cody scowled again, his face still very red, and I knew right away that
Cameron was right. Code-Man was in fact horny for Missy Etheridge. "I'm
gonna smack him," he growled.

Lifting an eyebrow, I teased, "So, is it true? Are you horny for Missy
Etheridge? Does seeing her in her tight little gym shorts make you want to
kiss her?"

Amazingly, instead of getting madder, he calmed down and the color faded
out of his face. He picked up his pack and coat and said, looking me
straight in the eyes, "I'm gonna have to think about that. After I smack my
brother."

Oh, dear. When he said he had to think about something, things were very
serious indeed. As he trooped off to his room, I spun around and went back
to my work.

***

At dinner that night, while I was serving Salisbury steak and peas and
Cameron was glowering into his plate as usual, Cody said confidently, "I've
decided."

"About what?" I said. I honestly had no idea what he was talking about by
then.

"About whether I'm horny for Missy Etheridge or not. I decided I am. Little
bit."

Cameron choked on his peas and I said, amused, "TMI, young man."

"Doesn't matter anyway. School ends in a month," he said brightly, then
tucked into his meal.

*** It started to matter a lot four months and seven days later, on Cody's
first day of fifth grade. When the boys burst into the house this time,
Cody didn't bother to announce it. He just came to my office while his
brother clumped upstairs.

"Mom," he said quietly.

I turned to look at him. He was a little paler than normal, and seemed out
of breath. I had a sneaking suspicion what this was about. Luckily, I was
prepared.

"Mom!" He squeaked like a little kid. "Mom, I think I'm in trouble."

"You didn't get a girl pregnant, did you?"

His face went bright red, and he refused to look at me. Oh hell. Finally he
said, "No, not yet."

Thank goodness. Wait a minute... not yet? "So what's the big deal, sport?"

"Remember when I told you last spring that I was only a little bit horny
for Missy Etheridge? Remember?"

I couldn't help but smile. "Yes."

"Well... she, she..." he threw an arm over his face dramatically. "She grew
up a lot over the summer!" Then he blurted, "She's really pretty and tall
and she has really long legs now and she got breasts and her rear end is so
round and I can't stand it! Now I'm really really really really horny for
Missy Etheridge!"

I could see that he really, really was, too. "Point that away from me,
mister!" I said, gesturing at his crotch, and he looked down and looked
like he wanted to die and melt into the floor from embarrassment. His hands
flew to the bulge in his pants and he turned his body away from me.

"Okay, I have a solution." I reached into a drawer of my desk and pulled
out the book I had bought months again when he announced his minor
horniness for Missy, because I figured this would happen. I knew for sure
three weeks ago, when I saw Morgan Etheridge in the grocery store with
Missy. Missy had grown; in fact, she had grown enough to force any hetero
boy she came into contact with right into puberty, even my precious
nine-year-old.

"Stay where you are," I said, then got up and unzipped his backpack. "Got a
book for you here. I want you to read it. You're below the age of consent,
so there's only one way to relieve your misery, okay?" I zipped up the copy
of "All About Masturbation and How to Do It for Boys" into his pack. Funny,
his brother had never needed one. Must have figured it out on his own.

"Okay," Cody said miserably.

"Read the book. Put it to use. And don't tell me about it, Mr. TMI."

"Um, okay," he said, mystified.

"Off you go to your room. Do your... homework," I told him, as I patted him
on the back.

*** Hours later, as I was preparing dinner, I heard an odd noise from
upstairs, almost like strangled high-pitched yelp. The boys were probably
wrestling again. I didn't hear it again, so I went on about my business.

Fifteen minutes later, Cody stomped into the kitchen, wearing nothing but
his boxers, his hair wet and tousled. He was covered in sweat, breathing
hard, and he held what soon came to be known as The Book in his left
hand. He brandished it at me and said sternly, "Oh my GOD, Mother! Why
didn't someone tell me about this before! It felt so good I almost died! It
took me like ten minutes just to recover!"

I was astonished. I remembered when I had my first O, probably about his
age. "Did it feel like you got turned inside out? Like your head exploded?"

"Heck yes! And what's with all the white stuff that came out? I'm supposed
to be dry-firing at my age! I thought I broke something!"

I burst into giggles.

He scowled at me. "It got all over my math homework. Now I have to do it
again!"

I couldn't help it; now I was full-out guffawing. Finally I gasped out,
"You-you shouldn't have left your h-homework on your bed!"

If his gaze could have turned me to stone, it would have. "It was on my
desk!"

"Why were you..." I swallowed my laughter, "why were you jerking off at
your desk?" I tried to control my expression, because this was all very
super horribly serious to him, but it was difficult.

"I was over on my bed!" he cried. "Why don't they warn us about these
things?"

My laughter evaporated. "What? You're so full of it. Your desk is four feet
away from your bed. At least."

"Five. More, now. This stupid book!" He shook it at me again. "It's all
wrong! It said it would take me a long time the first time, and it didn't,
and it said it would be dry, and it wasn't, and it said that if I did shoot
it would be like a few drops, max. Hah!"

I blinked. "What do you mean by that?"

"I had to change my blanket! And my sheets! And my pillow cases! And oh my
GOD, it took half a roll of paper towels to clean off my desk and the wall!
Mom, it got all over me! It got in my hair!" he wailed.

"...Whaaaaat?" I found it hard to imagine semen dripping off the wall... at
least that much. But he didn't have much of a tendency to exaggerate,
normally.

"Remember the time I spilled that half-gallon of milk all over the kitchen?
It was like that. Only thicker. And maybe not quite as much," he said
sullenly, staring at the carpet.

It had actually been a quart, but still, my jaw dropped. Apparently, I was
in the presence of a child prodigy. "O-kaaaaay," I said. "Enough
description, Mr. TMI. But we do need to talk. Close the door. Lock it."

He obeyed.

"Look," I said, eyeing him up and down and trying not to think of his
little boy hard-on... or should I call it a firehose? He was a really good
looking kid half-dressed, though he had a little pot-belly going. "How do I
put this?" I caught my bottom lip in my teeth, thought for a second, then
said. "First, let's keep this between us. Second, the book isn't wrong, at
least not for most boys. Most boys don't make semen until they're older,
and even when they do, it's only a little bit, like half a teaspoon
full. Not a quart. And hardly anyone shoots it that far. Not even grown
men."

He stared at me wide-eyed for a long moment, and I was afraid he would
burst into tears. But then he smiled the most beautiful smile ever
seen—one that would soon be world-famous. "You mean I'm a mutant? Like
Wolverine?"

"Uh, no," I said, chuckling a bit. "Coming that much and that hard isn't a
superpower. Not... really? But we can call it that if you like, 'kay? You
are special, little stud-boy, and you have to be careful with that."

"Coming? Is that what it's called?"

"Yes. Not in polite company."

"Coming," he said wonderingly. "I like that."

"Well, young man," I said, going into lecture mode. "With great power comes
great responsibility. You won't be ten for a few months. If you get to
liking this new feeling too much and seduce an adult, and someone finds
out, which they will, what's going to happen?"

He looked startled. "I could seduce an adult?"

"Kid, some grown-ups would be so impressed by your 'superpower' if you told
them about it that it wouldn't take much effort to get them to 'play' with
you. And that would hurt everyone. So keep quiet, would you?"

"What about other kids?"

"That's a gray area. But if word gets out and one of your slightly older
friends wants to have sex with you, they'd still get in trouble. Juvenile
detention is no joke."

He drooped.

"Sorry, son, but we have to be realistic. And another thing: once you do
get older, never try to force anyone to have sex with you or do things that
you know can hurt them—"

"I would never!" he interrupted fiercely.

"Good, 'cause I'd be the first person to turn you in, capisce? And if
you're really shooting that much goo, you're probably fertile enough to
make a tree pregnant. So before you start messing around—"

"I'll get an implant," he vowed. "One hundred percent effective, and if I
ever want to get married and have kids, I can turn it off. We learned about
that last week in Sex-Ed!"

"Bravo," I said, clapping. "Now your next assignment, should you choose to
accept it, and you will, is to find a way not to shower your whole room
with semen every time you jerk it. Think you can do that?" I said with a
half-smile.

Poor kid went red as a beet again. "I'll figure something out."

"See that you do."