Date: Thu, 4 Dec 2014 12:00:50 +1000
From: Jeff Albertson <albertson194@gmail.com>
Subject: Timmy's Bike Accident

Timmy's Bike Accident

a story by plantagenet

Disclaimer: This is adult fiction. No minors allowed. May contain
intergenerational gayness. Read at your own risk.

Timmy's Bike Accident

A thousand to one chance, the doctor had told Mr and Mrs Wilson. Those were
his exact words: "It's a thousand-to-one chance, folks, I'm sorry to say.
Every year hundreds of boys have the identical mishap that your son had,
and walk away (or hobble away, more like) with nothing worse than a few
minutes of excruciating pain. No lasting damage whatsoever. But in young
Timmy's case, well, I'm very sorry to tell you that I couldn't save his
testicles. Nobody could have, not even the finest surgeon in the country,
whom I did consult with over Skype if you recall. Again, I'm so sorry"

Mr Wilson was sorry, too. Mainly because he had decided the accident was
mostly his fault. It was he who figured that his son needed to get some
exercise, get out of the house and into the fresh air. He also believed
that every boy should know how to ride a bike. But instead of getting Timmy
the BMX bike he had asked for, Mr Wilson bought his son a larger, more
old-fashioned (and cheaper) variety. "One he can grow into", Mr Wilson
rationalised his cheapskate purchase, over his wife's (and son's)
objections.

Then the accident happened. Mr Wilson was right there at the time,
supervising his son's first cycling lesson.  He thought he did everything
right. First, he checked the street for traffic. Nothing coming either
way. Good, okay. Then he got Timmy up onto the seat. The toes of the boy's
shoes could only just touch the pedals, but that was okay, he remembered it
was the same for him when his own dad taught him to ride. Then, with a
mighty shove, he launched the bike into the street, Timmy wobbling above,
trying to keep upright.

While sitting in the waiting room of the pediatric ward of the hospital, Mr
Wilson replayed the accident in his mind. It seemed to him that the whole
incident occured in slow-motion. He saw the bike head unsteadily but
unerringly towards the pothole that the local authorities swore they'd
repair any day now. He saw his son's shoe slip gracefully off the pedal,
just as the front wheel hit the pothole, bringing the bike to a jarring
halt. He could see his son's legs pitch forward, bring his unprotected
groin into contact with the metal strut of the bike, then with the
handlebar stem, a double-whammy. He could even hear his nine-year-old son's
wail, which was only cut off when the air shot out of his lungs with his
impact on the road surface. Though he was only forty yards away at the
time, Mr Wilson could do nothing but watch, and witness his son's
masculinity being ground into a bloody pulp.

Now, six days after the catastrophe, Timmy was home from the hospital, back
with his family, minus his nuts. Dinner that first night was a very sombre
affair indeed, each member of the family lost in their own thoughts. Mrs
Wilson sighed deeply. She didn't know what to do for the best. The doctor
had suggested that since he had to remove all of the damaged tissue, to
prevent infection, he ought to insert a pair of nylon implants, so that
Timmy's undeveloped scrotum did not atrophy. "Plastic balls, my son has",
she thought miserably. "How am I going to get grandchildren from plastic
balls?"

Mr Wilson had thoughts of his own as well. He was not one to dwell in the
past. The accident was mostly his fault, okay, that was a given. He had
apologised to his son, now it was time to move on. A boy with no balls had
no chance of becoming a father in the conventional way. The doctor could
not even be sure whether Timmy's cock would perform normally anymore. Being
a married man, Mr Wilson strongly believed that everybody ought to be in a
relationship. Even an unnatural relationship was better than no
relationship at all. And since a relationship with a girl was out of the
question, Mr Wilson thought he had better begin steering Timmy towards the
gay side of the Force. It was all legal nowadays anyway, wasn't it? Maybe
not fully accepted everywhere, but still, some gay couples led relatively
happy lives. And being half of a gay couple was better than being a lonely
eunuch, wasn't it? So Mr Wilson reasoned, anyway.

Timmy was thinking, too. He wondered how long it would be before he could
resume his bike lessons. Apart from the accident, of which he remembered
very little, he felt lucky to have come through it mostly unscathed.
Although his balls did feel numb. The doctor must have given them some kind
of injection for the pain. Timmy did remember the pain. or some of it,
anyway, before everything went black.

"Uh, Dad?" the boy asked after Mrs Wilson had cleared away the dinner
plates. "How long, uh, before I can have my next, uh, bike lesson? I kinda
wanta, uh, get back on the horse, as they say" Timmy thought that was
pretty clever, and was expecting a laugh from his Dad, but all he got was a
look of profound sadness.

"Well, er, son, the bike, it's in pretty bad shape, um, the forks are
twisted, and the front wheel is all buckled. I've hung it on a hook in the
shed out back, and we'll get to it, I'm sure, in, uh, time. Meanwhile, how
about trying out some other sports, eh?"

Timmy smiled eagerly. "Sure, Dad. Like what?"

"Well, there's plenty to choose from, son. How about ballet? Your Mom was
quite the dancer when I was courting her, maybe you inherited some of those
genes from her. Or platform diving, now there's a sport for you! Standing
up proud and tall in a pair of tight speedos in front of hundreds of
spectators watching you fly through the air into the cool blue water. What
could be better? Or maybe you'd like gymnastics? There's a whole bunch of
disciplines involved, uh, the pommel horse, the Roman rings, the uneven
bars, a whole bunch. I can just see you tumbling across the floor in your
white shorts, the crowd going wild..."

Dads are weird, Timmy thought. All those sports sound a bit...well, gay.
Not that gay is bad, Timmy thought. Like all schoolboys nowadays, Timmy had
been indoctrinated to believe that gay is not evil, only different. Gays
can't help how God made them, was the way Miss McCluskey told his class,
and we shouldn't ever hate them for it. Timmy didn't hate gay people - he'd
never even met one, thought he had heard that a lot of actors and musicians
were gay. People like Elton John and Liberace and Freddy Mercury. A kid at
school told him that the guy out of How I Met Your Mother was gay, too,
which surprised him. He was still cool, though.

"Timmy, darling, you don't have to put all of your energies into sports,
you know. A talented boy like you has plenty of options," Mrs Wilson
suggested, annoyed that her husband was trying to get her ruined son into
yet more reckless activities. "You could take up the guitar and become a
famous rock star. Or acting, have you thought about acting? I know a few of
the people down at the community theatre, any one of whom could take you
under their wing. You could even get some acting lessons, if you thought
they might be helpful. Just don't close off any avenues, that's all I'm
saying"

Timmy looked at his Mom like she was suddenly talking in Russian. Didn't
she know about all the gay actors and musicians? Moms could be pretty dense
about stuff like that sometimes.

"I think I'll, uh, turn in," Timmy said. Before one of them says something
even weirder, he thought. "It's still a bit achey, uh, down there, you
know" he added, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of his crotch.

"Sure, son, give your Mom a goodnight kiss" Mr Wilson ordered gently, and
Timmy complied. When he was little, he used to give his Dad a kiss
goodnight as well, but he was nine now, way too old for that sappy
stuff. So it took him by surprise when his Dad caught his arm and swirled
him into a big hug and a kiss right on the lips. Dad even squeezed his
butt! "Goodnight, my little guy!" Dad declared. "I'll be in later to tuck
you in"

Jeepers! What was in the coffee at that hospital? Timmy thought. Whatever
it was, they both had too much of it. He made his way to his bedroom,
stopping off at the bathroom to brush his teeth. As he brushed, he looked
at his reflection in the mirror over the basin. Mop of sandy hair, a few
freckles over the bridge of his button nose, front teeth amazingly
undamaged by the accident. In fact, the only part of him that appears to
have got injured was his ballbag - the doctor told him he had to put a
couple of stitches in it, so it must have got torn or something. His balls
still felt funny. He decided to check them out when he got into bed.

Closing his bedroom door behind him, Timmy stripped down to his undies and
climbed into bed. His right hand snuck under the waistband of his underwear
and felt his cock. That's funny, he thought, usually his dick stood up
straight away when he felt it in bed at the end of the day. That was his
favourite time, when he could play with his cock until he fell asleep. But
tonight his dick didn't seem to be interested in playing. Oh well, there's
always my balls, he thought. His fingers searched a little lower and found
the smooth sack. They also found the piece of sticking plaster that partly
covered the stitches. A thought made Timmy giggle - for once it was a good
thing he had no hair down there, because getting that plaster off would be
a bitch if it pulled some of his pubes out! He caressed the two orbs, but
for some reason that did not stimulate him like it usually did. Must be
some drug they injected me with in the hospital, Timmy thought, making me
not hurt or something. Probably an anti-boner drug, Timmy thought, so he
wouldn't pop one when he was being operated on, making him giggle
again. "Nurse!" he imagined a surgeon calling out. "Boner alert! Stat!"
Timmy smiled, starting to relax.

Still sitting at the dinner table, Mr and Mrs Wilson were having a full and
frank exchange of views. Or as they would have put it, another argument.

"I think we should tell him," Mrs Wilson insisted. "Why didn't we do it in
the hospital, there and then? He has a right to know, you know" she
scowled.

"Honey, we don't know what trauma such news would produce! Hasn't he been
traumatised enough, without us adding to it? What would I tell him? 'Oh, by
the way, Tim, you got no balls anymore, too bad'! He's only nine, for god's
sake, he won't be needing them for a couple years at least anyway"

Mrs Wilson looked at her husband with loathing. "Didn't you hear anything
the surgeon said to us? Without balls, our son isn't going to grow up
properly at all, unless he has injections, thrice weekly injections of
testosterone. Balls aren't just for making babies, you know! I think we
should consider the other option the surgeon suggested. Or at least not
just dismiss it out of hand"

"What?! You want to turn our son into a girl?! I can't believe you said
that!" Mr Wilson was scathing.

"Well, it means he will be able to have a normal relationship. Yes, with a
man, but at least he won't be...you know..."

"What's normal about cutting a boy's dick off and replacing it with a
vagina, and telling him he's got to pee sitting down for the rest of his
life?"

Mrs Wilson moaned in exasperation. "Look, let's not wake him up by
yelling. We have several options; my view is that Timmy should be fully
informed and participate in making whatever decisions have to be made"

"And I say he's only nine! What could he possibly know about the
consequences of such decisions? Why burden him with a multitude of choices
when we can safely leave the decision, if there has to be one, for a few
months yet, maybe a year or two. About the only thing we agree on is that
him getting a girlfriend or a wife is out of the question."

Mrs Wilson choked back a sob. "Yes. I think it pretty much comes down to
either a future as a gay, or a future as a girl, for him. Both prospects
are horrible, but we can't bury our heads in the sand, not even for a
month. Do you know anybody who might, er, sound Timmy out about
whether...you know...he might be...interested in...that kind of lifestyle?"

Instead of exploding into a rage at his wife's vieled suggestion that one
or more of his acquaintances might be gay, Mr Wilson took a time-out from
the domestic war. "Well ...I guess I could ask around...discreetly, of
course. I suppose it stands to reason that I probably do have...you
know....gay workmates. I mean, they're everywhere now, aren't they. In
fact, there is one guy at the office whom I've always suspected was a
bit...er, stylishly dressed, if you get the picture."

"Well, that sounds like a start. And I know a couple of men at my theatre
group who, er, always seem well-informed about fabrics and textures and
decorating. I could, maybe, sound one of them out?" Mrs Wilson thought out
loud.

"Sure, but let's agree to consult each other before we rush into anything,
okay?" Mr Wilson cautioned. "I guess tonight I'll have that talk with Timmy
about...well, his future prospects". He got up from the table, leaving the
dishes for his wife. She sat there, wondering whether a gay son might help
her with the dishes occasionally.

"Son? Are you awake?" Timmy heard his dad ask from the doorway of his
bedroom.

"Sure, dad", the boy answered, quickly pulling his hand out of his
underwear. Mr Wilson turned the bedside lamp on and sat down on the side of
his son's small bed. He tried weakly to smile, which made Timmy wonder what
the heck was going on now.

"Er, son, I just thought we could have a little talk, now that it's just,
er, us guys, and all. Er, how's the injury going, by the way?"

Timmy gave a little shrug of his shoulders. "Okay, I guess", he answered
cautiously.

"I'd better have a look, just to be sure", his dad replied, standing up. He
drew back his son's top sheet and blanket, all the way down to Timmy's
knees, exposing his son's body, clad only in underwear.

Good thing I didn't get a boner before, otherwise Dad could see it now,
Timmy thought, How embarrassing would that be!

But Timmy's embarrassment was a long way from over, as his father proceeded
to pull his underwear down. "I'll just move these so I can see how your,
er, stitches are going, son," Mr Wilson explained. Now Timmy's whole
package was on full view, to his own father, as he lay there in the
lamplight. Dad could see the whole thing! Timmy thought he could die right
there and then. But worse was to come.

"Have you still got pain here still, son?" Timmy's dad asked as he fondled
his son's artificial testicles, then pulled the sticking plaster to one
side, being careful not to disturb the stitches in the thin flesh of the
boy's scrotum. "Looks like the Doc did a good sewing job, huh?" he added,
making Timmy squirm inside. But it wasn't just Timmy's inside that was
squirming - his pecker, similar in size to his Dad's pinky finger, had
awoken from its earlier slumber and was now rising to the occasion - and
his Dad was staring straight at it!

"Hey, there's a good sign, boy! Looks like your little soldier is still
able to stand to attention, huh?" Mr Wilson observed, letting go of Timmy's
fake balls and giving his real dick a few nudges as it stiffened to its
full three inches.

Timmy cringed inside. His worst nightmare was coming true! His Dad was
watching him get a boner! Worse yet, he seemed to be playing with it! And
to top it off, his dick seemed to like being played with!  By his Dad! "Uh,
yeah, Dad, a good sign", Timmy mumbled. He didn't know what else to say!
'Feels great, Dad, jack me off?' Not likely!

Mr Wilson put on his serious face, but still kept touching his son's now
fully hard dick, like a cat playing with a dot of sunlight on a tile
floor. "Son, there's something important I have to tell you. We...er, your
mother and I, thought it would be better to wait a few days to let you
recover from your accident before telling you this, but I guess the time
has come"

Panic raced through Timmy's mind - what happened? Is his bike unable to be
repaired? They can get me a new one, can't they?

"It's...it's your balls, son. When you had your accident, they were
irreparably damaged. Smashed to bits, in fact. The surgeon had to cut them
out. He stuck in a couple of plastic ones, for cosmetic purposes. Son? Do
you understand?"

Timmy listened to his dad's matter-of-fact recitation with growing
horror. No balls? I got no balls now? Does that mean...what exactly does
that mean?

As if he read his son's mind, his Dad continued. "Your mother and I still
think that, in spite of your, er, loss, you can still enjoy a happy and
full life. It seems to us that you have two basic options - you can be gay,
and some day maybe find a nice man to share your life with, or you can have
some more surgery and become a girl, which I guess still involves you
finding a nice man some day. But the good news is, you haven't got to
decide right away. Your mother and I are looking into getting you some
therapy that will involve you, er, getting to know a man in a, um, very
personal way, to help you decide. Now, I want you to co-operate with this
therapist fully. It's for your own good, after all. That's, uh, really all
I wanted to tell you - why don't you sleep on it and we can talk some more
soon. Good night, son"

Mr Wilson finally let go of his son's stiff dick and pulled the boy's
undies back up. Giving the boy's little bulge one final pat he drew the
bedclothes up and gave his son a caring peck on the forehead.

Lying in his darkened bedroom, Timmy's mind was a whirl of conflicted
thoughts. His Dad said he could either be gay, or be a girl. A girl! Yuck!
Girls don't have dicks! He didn't know much about girls, but he did know
that. To become a girl, the doctor would have to cut his dick off! No way
was anybody ever gonna do that! He already lost his balls, he wasn't going
to lose his dick as well!

But what was the other option - to be gay...someone who did it with other
boys...or with men! Well, what about the time he and Trent played with each
other's dicks on that sleepover at his house? That was fun! And when Dad
played with his dick just now, it got hard, it seemed to like it...that's
what gays did, wasn't it? They played with each other's dicks. It sure
sounded like more fun that getting it cut off! Timmy made a decision - he
certainly didn't want to become a yucky girl, so he made himself a personal
vow that he would be the best gay son ever! With that, he rolled onto his
side, jammed a hand inside his undies to find his dick again, and began to
doze.

* * *

Timmy's first day back at school since the accident was largely uneventful.
Nobody else knew about his loss, so nobody was able to make an issue of it.
His classmates knew that Timmy had suffered a bike crash, of course, but
had no gory details. There was a close call when his friend Trent groped
Timmy's crotch for a joke in the hallway, but Timmy brushed his hand away -
and then thought, No, why should I stop him? I'm supposed to be practicing
to be gay, aren't I? So he told Trent about the stitches, and asked if he
wanted a look. Of course Trent did! Any boy is fascinated by medical
procedures on other people, the more so because of the naughty location.
The two boys squeezed into a toilet cubicle, giggling while Trent unzipped
Timmy's shorts.

Trent put his hand inside Timmy's undies and felt the plaster covering the
stitches. "Can I have a look? Pleeeease?" he begged his friend. Timmy
played hard-to-get for about three tenths of a second, then nodded. Trent
pulled Timmy's undies down carefully, which made Timmy think 'He does it
nicer than Dad!'. Trent proceeded to finger Timmy's scrotum to get a look
from every possble angle, which had the inevitable effect on Timmy's little
dick. 'Just like happened with Dad!' Timmy thought again, which made his
penis fatten and lengthen even more.

"Wow, it's so cool!" Trent murmured, longing to play with Timmy's boner but
not sure whether his friend was still into that stuff. It would put up a
severe barrier to their friendship if he touched Timmy's dick without some
assurance that it was what Timmy wanted.

But Timmy had no doubts about what he wanted. "Yeah", he whispered back,
"my ballbag got, uh, injured, but my dick survived. Wanna feel?" That was
the go-ahead that Trent was waiting for, as he carefully grasped his
friend's boner with his delicate fingers, playing up and down the length of
it, giving Timmy's dickskin a few slides in between each grope.

"Does it feel, uh, normal?" Timmy whispered.

"Uh, yeah, it feels, uh, just like mine", Trent breathed back. "Wanna
check?" Timmy did not bother answering, he went straight for the zipper of
Trent's shorts. Trent moaned softly as Timmy undid the clasp and pushed his
hand into Trent's boxers. With his free hand Trent pulled his own shorts
down from behind, to give his friend's hand some extra space, then reached
around Timmy's waist to caress his bare butt. Timmy followed suit, using
his non-wanking hand to pull his undies down, and began to stroke Trent's
bottom as well.

The two boys were quickly engrossed in giving and receiving pleasure. Trent
had his eyes shut and was moving his head from side to side in ecstacy when
his lips brushed Timmy's lips 'by accident'. "Uh, sorry, dude" he quickly
said to cover up this excess of gayness, "I, uh, didn't mean, uh..."

"It's cool, man", Timmy murmured, returning the little gesture with his own
lips. That was all the encouragement Trent needed - he locked lips with his
friend and pushed his tongue inside Timmy's mouth. The grunts from the two
boys were now muffled moans of pleasure as they stroked butt, rubbed cock
and sucked face until each boy was breathless.

Timmy broke off their kiss first. "Uh, man, we have to get to class. Miss
McCluskey will have a cow if we're late! You go first, we don't wanna both
go together, she'll suspect something. I'll come after you, she still feels
sorry for me after my accident. We'll, uh, have a sleepover or something,
'kay?"

Reluctantly, Trent released Timmy's dick, then pulled up his boxers,
refastening his short trousers. "Sure, dude, it's a date!" he grinned shyly
at his friend, then exited the bathroom. Timmy redressed himself and
followed a few seconds later, reaching class just as Miss McCluskey was
giving Trent a chewing out. Her mood softened immediately when she saw her
poor injured student, and allowed both boys to resume their seats without
further fuss. Timmy made it through the day free of any more entanglements,
although Trent stuck to him like wallpaper wherever he went.

Timmy was relieved to get home. He reviewed his day, munching on the
cookies his Mom got for him. He felt his gay interlude with Trent was very
promising (and instructive! Who would have thought having your butt rubbed
would feel so good?), but somehow still slightly unfulfilling. He wondered
if that's all gay guys did, rubbed each others dicks and kissed, or was
there something more? Didn't he recall hearing some older boys talk about
"blowjobs" once? Maybe he could talk about it with his Dad, or with this
therapist guy his parents were supposed to be finding for him.

At that very moment, a few streets across town, James Coulsen was
approaching Timmy's house in his car. He knew Timmy very well, loved him in
fact, and in his fantasy-muddled mind, believed that Timmy loved him
back. James worked as an orderly in the hospital's pediatric surgical ward,
where Timmy had spent the last few days after his accident. It was only a
small ward - two beds - and Timmy was his only post-op patient, so James
devoted all his working hours these past few days to tending the boy. James
enjoyed his job because it got him close to vulnerable children - boys in
particular (James didn't much care for girls). He fell head over heels in
lust for Timmy from the first day he was wheeled out of surgery and into
post-op, and over the next few days contrived to enjoy the boy's delicate
little body at every opportunity.

The night shift can be a long ten hours, and James knew every trick to
satifying his urges on a sleeping boy. When giving the drug-drowsy Timmy a
bed-bath, James pulled his own hard dick out from under his hospital greens
and rubbed it along Timmy's bare flank, ejaculating profusely over the
boy's hairless tummy, chest and thighs. Since he already had the washcloth
and basin out, it was easy to clean away the evidence of his
perversity. After a few bedbath sessions, he was able to delay his climax
to the point where he could direct his stream at the sleeping boy's
face. In his stupor, Timmy's tongue darted out to lick at James' splooge,
convincing the young man that the boy returned his amorous feelings.

James also enjoyed the boy's little dick many times, sucking him to a
climax every time he changed Timmy's scrotal dressing. He revelled in the
feelings of devotion that Timmy gave him when his little hips heaved up off
the bed as he dry-climaxed in James' mouth. In the small hours of the
morning, when other orderlies were taking the opportunity to snooze in
their chairs, James would mount Timmy's bed and dock his penis with the
boy's, rolling his foreskin over Timmy's dick while he masturbated the boy,
bringing himself off at the same time so that his spunk flooded the
sleeping boy's immature knobhead.

Diaper-changing time was one of James' favourite activities. As the boy was
mostly asleep, the nursing staff decided that rather than let Timmy soil
his bedclothes with faeces, he should wear a diaper. Naturally, it fell to
James to change this item daily, which he did with zeal, giving the boy a
slow rim job after cleaning him up. James calculated that it wouldn't be
too long before the boy declared his love for James, and demanded to be
fucked, thus consummating their love forever, but to James' dismay, the boy
was released into his parents' care before he could do so.

Even though his thoughts were overwhelmingly full of fantasies about sex
with the young boys in his care, most recently Timmy, James still possessed
enough native cunning to survive in the ordinary world. He accessed Timmy's
patient record to find out his home address, and calculated that the boy
should be home from school by 4 p.m. When he knocked at the Wilson's door,
it was Mrs Wilson who answered.

"Yes? Can I help you?" she asked politely when faced with the unfamiliar
young man. Although she had visited the hospital several times to sit with
her emasculated son, she never noticed the orderly.

"I'm James Coulsen. I'm here to be with Timmy" the orderly declared
bluntly.

That conniving bastard of a husband of mine, was Mrs Wilson's immediate
thought. He made a pact with me that we would consult before getting Timmy
a therapist! Now here is this guy already standing on our doorstep! Well,
I'll deal with that arrogant so-and-so later! All these thoughts took only
a fraction of a moment to rush through her mind. Not forgetting her
manners, even under pressure, she smiled at the man and invited him in. "Of
course, do come in! Timmy's in the living room having a little after-school
snack. Go right in and, er, start doing what, er, whatever it is you do
with boys. Please" she added, ushering James into her house.

Delighted with his welcome, James strode into the living room and saw the
love of his life sitting on the couch watching TV and eating
cookies. Perfect! he was still wearing his adorably cute school
clothes. Not for much longer, James thought.

Timmy looked up when he heard James enter the room. "Hi, Timmy, I'm James,
I'm so glad to be with you today. I'm sure we'll have a lovely time
together", the young man explained.

This guy sure reeks gay, Timmy thought. He must be the therapist guy Dad
told me about, the boy concluded. Now maybe he could find out more gay
stuff. Timmy hoped it would be as much fun as his bathroom interlude with
Trent earlier today. He smiled up at the man. "Hi" he said.

"Hello, my adorable darling", James answered as he sat beside the boy and
ran a hand up under Timmy's school shirt to caress his tummy and chest.

"Uh" was all Timmy had time to respond before James locked lips with him,
invading his mouth with his hot tongue. Mrs Wilson stood at the doorway to
the living room, amazed at how quickly the therapist set about his duties,
half wanting to stay and watch but unsure of the protocol in this
situation. When one's son is being seduced by a gay workmate of one's
husband in the living room in the middle of the afternoon, what was the
proper response? Should she gracefully exit and give them privacy? Offer to
get some lube from the bathroom? Make small talk about the advantages of
linen over cotton as a cumrag?

As she pondered these options, James was getting down to business, she saw,
and to his credit her son was participating enthusiastically. The orderly
had pulled Timmy onto his lap and had removed his schoolshirt, and was now
licking her son's neck while unzipping his shorts. Timmy was moaning as he
reciprocated by grabbing at the buttons of James' shirt.

Mrs Wilson thought it might be a good time to check whether there were
enough potatoes to serve four, in case James wanted to stay for dinner. She
had no idea what her husband had already told him. Maybe he was going to
stay the night? If so, should she make up the bed in the spare room, or
just assume he would be sleeping in her son's bed? She exited back to the
kitchen and fussed around for a few minutes, then returned to the living
room.

Clothes belonging to her son and James littered the living room floor. The
television was now ignored as the two now naked males were engrossed in
soul-kissing and rubbing each other's erect cocks. Mrs Wilson had time to
note that the nasty bruise in the crotch that her son sported a few days
ago had faded nicely and was almost gone, just as James released her son's
stiff organ and swivelled him around to suck on that same arrow of
flesh. Her son's face was now level with James' groin, so he took the bit
between his teeth and started returning the favour James was giving
him. Mrs Wilson thought that their sofa was a little small for these
activities, so she stepped a little closer to attract the two lovers'
attention.

"Um, maybe it would be a little more comfortable in Timmy's bed, er,
bedroom, do you think, uh, James?" she asked the writhing mass with a
cheerful voice.

James had one hand on the back of Timmy's head, letting it bob up and down
on his fleshy rod. Releasing the boy's tool from his mouth, he gasped
"Thanks, ma'am, we'll go up as soon as I give Timmy a mouthful of, uh, uh,
uhhhh, yeah, uhhh, god, suck it down, Timmy, yeahhh" James moaned as he
unloaded his cream into the boy's mouth. Mrs Wilson watched as her son
swallowed the man's jizz, then sit up, wiping his mouth.

"You want us to go upstairs, Mom?" he asked, his little dick bobbing up and
down as he clambered off the sofa.

"Uh, yes, dear, if you think it would be more comfortable for the two of
you in your bed. Is there, uh, anything you need, er, James?" She wondered
whether her husband kept any condoms, and if so, should she offer one (or
two?) to James. She decided that the young man probably knew what he was
doing as she gathered up the discarded clothing from the floor. "I'll get
these for you, you two run along" James picked up Timmy in his arms and
kissed his cummy mouth, carrying him to the stairs. Mrs Wilson retreated to
the kitchen and fussed with the vegetables, pouring herself half a glass of
dry white wine as she did so, still fuming about her husband.

Not long after she put down her empty glass, she heard moans emanating from
upstairs, high pitched ones that could only be her son. If he doesn't have
James' dick in his mouth, he's probably getting his ass fucked, she
thought. At that moment the front door opened and her husband let himself
in. He had noticed the strange car in the driveway, and heard the sounds of
sex from the vicinity of the upstairs bedrooms. He looked at his wife with
an inquisitive uplift of the eyebrow.

Mrs Wilson decided to get the first word in. "That's James, upstairs, with
Timmy. The've been going at it for the last half hour. They've progressed
past mutual oral sex and now it sounds like James is fucking our son's
ass. I suggested they go up to Timmy's bed before they stained the sofa"

Goddamned treacherous bitch! Mr Wilson thought. She knew we had agreed to
discuss the therapist thing some more before deciding anything, but no, she
couldn't wait, she had to go right ahead and get one of her gay actor
friends to be with Timmy! Always thinks she knows better than me! Well, I
won't give her the satisfaction of an argument, I'll just make nice and
bide my time. "Okay, er, James, right! It sounds like they're already
getting along nicely together", he said, forcing a smile and hoping the
deceitful harpy was convinced by it.

"They sure are", she nodded her head. "James has already blown a load into
Timmy's mouth, and it sounds like by now he's fucking Timmy's brains
out. Timmy seemed to be enjoying giving head, from what I saw earlier."

Obviously didn't inherit that from you, you frigid cunt, Mr Wilson
thought. "Do you think I should, er, check in with them, see if they, ah,
need anything, er, honey?" he said aloud, trying to keep his voice neutral.

"It won't bother them if you did, earlier they were sixty-nining on the
sofa while I was right there. I've got vegetables to prepare. You can
invite James to stay for dinner if you like, there's enough food for four."

Mr Wilson smiled again, thanking his wife before climbing the stairs, his
ears ringing with the the cantata of coitus coming from Timmy's
room. Opening his son's door, his eyes confirmed what his ears had already
told him - a naked Timmy was sitting astride an equally naked young man he
didn't recognise, rocking back and forth (clearly impaled on the other's
cock), his little hands resting on the man's nipples for balance, his mouth
open, eyes shut, panting and moaning as he rode both of them to bliss.

Lucky bastard, he thought, not sure whether he meant the guy on the bed or
his son. "Er, hi guys, you're getting along fine, I see", he said
conversationally, even though the two fuckers were clearly not interested
in chatting. Getting no response, he tried again. "Er, is my boy giving you
a good fuck, ah, James?" In reply, the man simply groaned and surged his
hips upwards, making Timmy scramble his legs around to stay in the saddle.

"Okay, fine, and how about you, son? Is James showing you, er, some good
moves?" he persevered.

The boy opened his eyes and saw his Dad standing beside the bed. He saw the
beginnings of a bulge in his father's slacks - Dad was getting turned on by
watching me get fucked, Timmy thought! "Uh, hi Dad, uhh, yeah, James is,
uhhhh, really good at fucking, it hurt a bit at first but now, ohhh, yeah,
it just keeps getting better and better". Timmy's mouth began to water as
he saw the bulge in his father's slacks getting firmer and longer. "Uh,
Dad, you know when a guy shoots off in your mouth, his, uh, stuff, you
know, is it okay if you, er, swallow that? I mean, it won't hurt me will
it?"

Mesmerised by the motion of his son's constantly moving hips atop the young
man, accompanied by the rhythmic slapping of his bottom on the young man's
thighs, and turned on by his son's question, Mr Wilson rubbed the crotch of
his trousers to calm the beast within, but that only made Timmy more
eager. "Well, son, I've never done it myself, but if locker room gossip is
anything to go by, there's nothing harmful in jizz when it's swallowed. In
fact..."

While Mr Wilson expounded on the alleged nutritional benefits of semen, his
son was losing patience and getting hornier. He unzipped his Dad's slacks
and fished out the object of his desire, the weapon that helped create him
ten years earlier. Without dislodging James' cock from his ass, Timmy
latched onto his father's woodie with one hand and a set of lips, making Mr
Wilson groan with sexual excitement.

"Ohh, son, yess, good boy" the man crooned as he held the back of his son's
head and pulled it closer, forcing his meat down the boy's gullet. Timmy
had already been given a lesson in deep throating by James, so he coped
well, working his tongue on his father's prick as he eased it back and
forth with his delicate fingers.

James was reaching the end of his ability to hold his orgasm back, and
grabbed Timmy by the hips as he thrust upwards. "Ride, him, son!" Mr Wilson
called out, as Timmy felt his mouth filling with the spunk that blasted out
of his dad's stiff fleshy hose. "Son! Timmy! Can you hear me?" he heard his
Dad call out as he sucked the man dry while being flooded in his bottom by
James.

"Son! Son?" his Dad called again, making Timmy somwhat annoyed, He was
doing the best he could, he was only new at this gay stuff. What did Dad
expect?

"Are you coming around?" Timmy heard his Dad's voice in a stage
whisper. "Son? Are you awake?" he repeated. Timmy blinked a few times. This
wasn't his bedroom! What happened? What was with all the bright lights?
They hurt his eyes a bit as he struggled to understand his
circumstances. He blinked again. He was in a bed all right, but it wasn't
his bed at home. He was in...a hospital!

"Oh, thank god, you're awake!" Mr Wilson gushed, kissing his son's forehead
and tousling his hair. "You gave us quite a fright young man!"

"What?" Timmy croaked, his throat dry.

"You've been out cold for two days, since the bike accident. Do you
remember the accident?" his Dad asked.

Timmy shook his head to clear it a little. "Accident? Yeah, I remember. I
hit a pothole and...Dad! My...my balls! Are they okay?"Timmy panicked.

Mr Wilson was taken aback by his son's question. "Your...er, balls? Well, I
guess they are, the doctor didn't say anything about them. You hit your
head, is all. Next time, mister, you're wearing that helmet I got for you,
and no arguments!"

"Are...are you sure, Dad? I thought I kinda, uh, hurt them...in the
accident. Can you, uh, check them? Just to make sure?" Timmy pleaded,
pulling the bedcovers down as he spoke.

"I saw your accident, son. Your balls weren't involved in any way, I don't
think, anyway. The front wheel hit that damned pothole and your whole body
just flew into the air like you were shot out of a cannon, and you landed
on the grass verge. You bumped your head on the ground when you hit."

"Please Dad, just check them for me. Please?" Timmy begged as he pulled his
pyjama shorts down to expose his junk to his father. Mr Wilson reluctantly
probed his son's scrotum with his fingers, palpating the boy's testicles,
giving each one the gentlest squeeze, making Timmy wince. Relief washed
over the boy's face.

"They seem fine to me, son. No reason why they can't make plenty of
grandkids for your Mom and me. When you get married of course" he added
hastily, pulling his son's pyjama bottoms back up and resettling his
bedcovers. "Gosh, you had us all worried, Timmy. You Mom and me sat here by
you every minute we could. And while we weren't here, during the night, the
pediatric orderly, James, looked after you like you were his own boy. And
after school, your buddy, er, Brent?..."

"Trent" Timmy corrected his Dad.

"Yeah, Trent, he sat right here and held your hand the whole time, talking
to you about school and stuff so you could hear a familiar voice. The
doctor said that would help you come around. I'm glad you got such good
friends. You gave us all such a fright, son."

Timmy gave a weak smile. "It's good to be...er, back, Dad. I hope the bike
is okay?"

"Well, the forks are twisted, and the front wheel's buckled quite a bit. I
hung it up on a hook in the shed down the back yard, I haven't had the
heart to look at it yet. Are you sure...?"

"Oh, yeah, Dad, I wanna get back in the saddle, like they say", smiled the
boy.

"That's...that's good to hear, son", his dad answered, brushing away a tear
from one eye. "I was...I mean, I thought for a while we...your Mom and
I...you know, that we might, uh, lose you..."

"I love you, Dad", Timmy answered.

An embarrassed smile crossed Mr Wilson's face. "I...er, love you too, son",
he answered, "...of course" and was surprised when Timmy sat up and bent
forwards in the bed and wrapped both arms around his neck and planted a
mushy kiss right on his lips.

"Uh, thanks...er, thanks son, you haven't given me one of those for quite a
while, I think. I was starting to wonder if you might be getting too grown
up to kiss your old man. Oh, and look who's here, it's your buddy from
school. I'll give you two a minute. I'll just be down at the coffee shop,
they do a great cappuchino here..." Mr Wilson's voice trailled off as he
left the two boys alone.

Timmy's face beamed as he looked at the new arrival in the room.

"Look who's awake! It's Rip Van Wilson!" Trent joked. He stood by the side
of his friend's bed. "Good to see you made it back to Earth, dude", he
added.

Timmy took Trent's hand in both of his. "Dad told me you visited me while I
was, uh, out of it"

Trent smiled back at Timmy. "Yeah, you're a really restless sleeper, you
know? You tossed and turned a lot. Sometimes you even kicked off the
bedclothes. Once-" here Trent lowered his voice "- you got a boner! I
covered you up but it still stuck up" Trent giggled.

"Thanks for looking after me, man, I love you" Timmy sighed, sitting up
again and reaching over to give Trent the same kiss that he gave his Dad
earlier. The other boy was as surprised as Mr Wilson was, but did not pull
away.

"Dude..." Trent began.

"I mean it, man. You're my best bud in the whole world. Hey Dad?" Timmy
noticed his father re-enter the ward with a coffee, "Can Trent sleep over
on Friday, please? We can, uh, work on the bike together. Pleeease?"

Mr Wilson smiled, and set his coffee down on the side table. How could he
refuse his son anything today? "Sure, son" he answered.

end