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Excerpt for XXX HEROES Volume 1 The Duke of Koko by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

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XXX HEROES

Volume 1

The Duke of Koko







ROMANCIA FOX

















An Ovalsacks Edition

Chapter 1

Barely Young



The Mailman raced to the front porch. He thudded desperately on the oak door with his clenched fist. Looking at his wrist watch, he could tell he had only eighteen seconds left. He knocked harder, harshly, and impatiently and hoped it wasn’t just a knock at the door, but a knock on wood. He listened.

“I’m in the shower,” yelled a female voice from deep inside the house.

It was single...the house, not the voice. It was a huge pile of modesty. It was the sort you erect after a devastating hurricane, cheap yet comfortable. When you cast a generous glimpse at it, it smiles back at you...boasting of a well nurtured front lawn, that would make any dog itch to poop in it. The Mailman was itching to pop his package in.

He checked on his electronic log board... another unhappy customer and he would lose his newly acquired khaki short-sleeved shirt and shorts, which his Grandma had thought were cute on him. Maybe it wasn’t the khakis that were cute. Obviously, not the khakis! Khaki isn’t that kind of color you would say is cute. It’s actually designed to throw away the competition to its wearer.

Needless to say, khakis or not, at 36 he could barely command any sort of attention from the opposite gender, except from his Grandma. He had presence of existence, but absence of presence. He was the kind of fellow with a face you would always remember, but with a name you would easily forget. You see...we are just calling him ‘The Mailman’ for now because that’s much more memorable...a title awarded to him courtesy of the Khakis...Yes, the Khakis win on character!

The Khaki clad Mailman’s anxiety spiraled. His hands agitatedly shook. He hesitated to knock again, feared frustrating his client... But nine seconds left on his watch, his time was more precious. He banged again...much louder, more frantic.

“I’m in the shower!” That same voice exasperatedly screamed.

He waited for an eternity. There was no answer at the door. A no answer or a no for an answer was something Our Mailman was kind of used to, not just at work, worse in his other no other life. If this was a knock on Heaven’s door, surely the angels would ignore.

Nonetheless, getting cold-shoulders from ladies or angels, if they were not the same, was the least of his worries. The cold-bloodedness of the system was heavy on his shoulders. Three negative reports were all it would take to add him to the statistics of unemployed Americans. And he had five more seconds left to prove he deserved his new job.

He desperately raised his adamant fist into the air, and before he could conjure up and deliver a thunderous blow, the door suddenly swung wide open. And there emerged out of the deepest and darkest fires of hell...THE DEVIL himself...just kidding! Let’s say that again...And there emerged from behind the nice looking door, and out of the mystifying exotic scent of the house, someone in nothing showing absolutely everything. The Mailman froze in mid-motion.

Clarissa Perkins stood in front of the Mailman’s flabbergasted eyes...completely, utterly, and entirely murderously...stark naked.

The hopelessly lonesome bachelor’s jaw dropped into a half-moon smile, like...Hi, there! I apologize for disturbing you and...What! Thank you, Ma’am for being so generously disturbed!

He irresistibly ogled at the once-in-a-blue-moon spectacle from head to toe, and from toe to head, and ravenously salivated...If this is Heaven, I’m glad I’m dead!

At forty, she was still looking like this gorgeous little twenty something. She was small, but not dwarfed...just shorter than your average adult female height. She was slim, not thin...a size 4 on the hips, and not curvy...Nature had been stingy with tourist attractions. But, Science had been generous with a monumental bust, worth a sightseeing charge, reasonably and adequately toned for her petite frame.

Intricate streams of warm water trickled caressingly down her smooth skin...down her neat flat stomach, down her delicately trimmed sunset red pubic hair, in between her soft thighs, down to her knees and down to her ankles, and gathered peacefully onto the ground, worshipping at the soles of her feet.

As the water streamed down, a saintly steam drifted triumphantly into the air...from the tenderness of her light skin, from her slender hips, from her short flanks, from her lean shoulders, from her juicy round implants and from the beautifully angry expression on her face...

“I told you I was in the shower.” She sneered with a breathtaking mellow tone of her voice.

A warm shower on a hot day will keep the skin cooler, so says science. She was a biologist, a beautician. That adds up! She had taken a shower. She was now cool, but she was even hotter.

The sealed package surrendered to the seduction of gravity and politely said goodbye, gently slipping out of the Mailman’s enervated grip and smashing pitiably onto the ground with a loud cracking noise. Clarissa gasped in shock as she knew what was broken.

The pointlessly mesmerized Mailman, on the other hand, could only do the honors of finishing his service with a muffled perverted sigh, in a wheezing Texan accent.

“You can sign anywhere you want, Ma’am.”

Clarissa, short of breath, gazed speechlessly...excused redundancy for emphasis...in utter shock and disbelief at the wrecked package on the ground, and at the same time, at the Mailman’s silly flushed smirk. Never at any point throughout the course of her nudist life did she ever come across anyone become so inanely overtaken by her tiny body than this Khaki Cock (which also means a stupid person, and not only a male sexual organ or a male bird). Even if it was just because of her breasts, which could be referenced in a lecture to justify the Big Bang theory, it was still nauseating. She almost puked out an entire diet of pig in disgust before picking up her parcel, and shutting the door!

-- THE END --

P.S. ...of the beginning!

This story though, really isn’t about the now jobless Mailman, or Clarissa Perkins, or her juicy palatable implants...well, maybe those demonizing ‘Tangibles’ will have us tenderly massaging them with our thoughts throughout the course of the narration. But this story though, in hindsight, is about Irwin Perkins, Clarissa’s non-adolescent, pubescent infant son, who had just turned eighteen. Mmh...?

---------------


The warm shower was still running and steaming in the bathroom as Clarissa made her way to her bedroom from the front door, swinging her naked angry ass at the stillness of the walls.

Just a wall away, Irwin Perkins wiped the mist off the bathroom mirror to get a clearer view of his reflection. He stood motionlessly. Not even his eyelids were allowed to blink.

His stare could almost break the glass...He was angry, but it wasn’t the mirror’s fault. The Mirror rules are simple. What you give is what you get flipped around and staring straight back at you. But obviously he knew. He only ached to be angry at something...Nature or science? Maybe nature! He stared long, and cast no shade of pity...at the image of his naked humanity.

Nakedness in the house was no longer just a habit, but a hobby. And the heat of summer could no longer be a reason, but an excuse. Nudity spelt freedom. It was an artistic lewd way to courageously scold at residual introversion.

Mother and child, now more like Laurel and Hardy, had stayed long enough together alone, to master each other’s routine to comically avoid visual accidents. And besides, the house was big enough for the two of them. In fact, it was quite very capacious.

The front door opened into a nook which led directly into the large family room. Not much of family to use it though, but quite well-furnished either way. The most notable piece of furniture apart from the usual tidbits you would normally find was a classical chintz couch.

The old timer matched with nothing and only sat there because no one really bothered to retire him or her...or whatever anyone’s thought might wield. Perhaps, it was because somehow, in a house in the depth of the reticent nature of its dwellers, who were quite reserved, but open-minded enough to be expressive with their bodies and mouths, that couch churned out character.

It could tell a few good stories or bad ones...Especially stories to do with asses. It had patted them all...the soft, the big, and the old. And of course, it had honorably withstood the persecution and disgrace of uncivilized giant farts, secretly ripping deep into its cushions. Everyone would almost always pass by that grumpy old chesterfield as it sat right at the centre of the only route to the exit and entrance.

From the family room, there were two other doorways, one at the back which led to a corridor and the other at the side which led to the kitchen. Down the short corridor, there were three doors. Two of them, which were adjacent to each other, opened into the bedrooms, one for Clarissa and the other for Irwin. And the other door led into the bathroom, which had the shower, toilet chamber, bathtub and sanitary basin all in one.

The way to the basement was through a doorway in the kitchen. There really wasn’t much use of the space down there except for laundry. It could have been a perfect retirement home for the antiquated couch, but somehow, that resilient piece of furniture was refusing to outlive its relevance.

It was like the untradeable faithful housekeeper that you would spoil with a Hollywood level salary at the end of the month, just to say good morning to before you go out and good evening when you return home.

And, a good afternoon it was, in the meantime, in the Valley of the Sun, in Downtown Phoenix, Arizona. But, Irwin Perkins wasn’t feeling good at all about himself as he stared long at his bothering image in the bathroom mirror.

It didn’t make any sense to him.

He was 18 years old now, but still looked like a 12 year old boy. He had been told about the Hypogonadism, the same genetic condition which his mother has. But still, he couldn’t understand why nature could bend its own rules at times.

That’s why he had taken a keen interest in studying advanced biology more intricately at school. But, what the books and internet were telling him and what he saw in reality wasn’t even the same.

There was no single strand of hair on his face...no beard, no moustache. His skin was still as silky, smooth, and glabrous as a toddler’s.

He had no hair under his arms, no hair on his pubic area. His weenie still looked like...what you would actual call a weenie.

His shoulders were lean and his jaw line was narrow...which is why sometimes he was mistaken for a girl.

He had been called names, he had been laughed at. He had been teased and taunted, bullied and battered.

He could no longer participate in sport as he grew older...his physique was just below his age...his age was well above his physique.

Getting admitted into movie theatres was a problem. Getting into clubs was improbable. His face just didn’t look his age. They would say he must have stolen his brother’s ID card.

Irwin heavily felt out of place anywhere he went. The jokes that he laughed at were too silly. The other guys’ jokes didn’t make any sense.

When everyone would talk about sex, Irwin would cackle and giggle like a little child...but would soon stop to realize everyone was staring at him wondering, like...seriously?

Finding a date was hopeless, let alone senseless. Girls of his age were much taller than he was. Girls of his age looked like his big sisters. He didn’t even feel the desire to date...the urge for the opposite species was not yet born in him. He just didn’t feel it, but he knew he needed to.

-- Ah, sweet! --

The girls adored, and took selfies with their classmate. They admired, oh what a marvel to have this kid sitting in senior class. He must be very intelligent to have skipped grades, they thought.

But, in truth, he was indeed very intelligent, even much more so than his actual age. His brain cells were much younger, and younger brains learn faster than older brains.

His brains were not a problem. He was worried about his body. As he stood staring at his infantile reflection in the bathroom mirror, Irwin knew he didn’t want to look like that any minute longer.

He was now a day older than eighteen and fast running out of time. He knew from research that if his body fails to initiate puberty now, it was going to be almost impossible after he surpasses his teen ages.

He quickly paced out of the bathroom.

---------------


Irwin walked into the kitchen were his mother was now preparing lunch. His privates were now covered, and so were hers...but just the privates...the rest of their gorgeous skin was bare...a little inappropriate, yet they were unashamed. She had always seen him as a child, because he looked that way in any case...innocent, and completely harmless.

It was like being in bikini at the beach in summer, except they were in the kitchen...and they were in underwear. Forget the old saying. These two could stand the heat, that’s why they didn’t have to get out of the kitchen.

Besides, Clarissa was surprisingly super confident about her underdeveloped body. She felt her house was her personal kingdom, her place of independence, where she was free to express herself the way she wanted, and where she could break any rule without repercussion.

“Can you believe the mailman?” Clarissa grumbled, “The horny bastard broke the wine glasses your father sent me from Asia.”

“Dad is in Russia, Mom, not Asia.” Irwin retorted.

You couldn’t help but feel sorry for him for his effeminate voice.

“Same thing, Hun’, Russia is in Asia...” Clarissa argued.

“Russia is actually part of the European Football Association, Mom!”

“Russia, Asia, or Anastasia...or who cares what! Your father is who-cares-where and with who-cares-who, and I am stuck here all alone!” Clarissa suddenly, unexpectedly lashed out.

She obviously had something else on her mind...maybe it was her heart screaming out loud, or maybe it was her vagina.

Whatever the case was, Irwin knew it was above his comprehension levels. He just opened the fridge door and searched for his favorite nutty chocolate. He sat down at the kitchen table, preferring to ignore the apparent disparity in sentiment.

“Your father wanted to speak to you earlier,” Clarissa said turning the tides and turning her opened laptop, which was on top of the kitchen table, a little towards Irwin. “I told him you were in the shower.”

She initiated a video call, which instantly went through. The webcam on the other end of the stream allowed them to see into the backdrop of a small untidy room, which looked like a makeshift office establishment inside a small bedroom.

Irwin’s father, Frank Perkins, was sitting in front of the webcam and he smiled excitedly as he saw Clarissa, and her tempting black lace embracing Victoria’s Secret.

“Hey, Babe!” he cheered and peered, “Wow! You look sexy. Boy, do I miss those knockers!”

Keyboard clinking from hunt-and-peck could be heard as he zoomed into the frame from his opposite end.

“Frank, your son can hear you!” she reprimanded him as she turned the laptop a bit more to allow Irwin to get into full view.

“Oh, he is here?” he startled, and then saw him, “Hey, Buddy!”

Frank was excited to see Irwin. Irwin, on the other hand, wasn’t. In fact, he was quite pissed off.

It is often a parent’s nightmare when it comes to understanding a child’s recalcitrant behavioral traits. In spite of all the efforts offered by today’s technology to bridge the long distance gap, Irwin simply felt that his own cellphone was doing a much better job at being an internet based dad than Frank.

His phone was there whenever he wanted it, he could spend the whole day with it, play games, ask silly questions and get great answers, share a joke and laugh along. It could even sing him a lullaby at night. It was never too busy with work, and everyday it would come back home. It always made sure he was safely gone to bed before it went to sleep.

Frank had last set foot in the house eight years back. Irwin only knew he was in Russia for some government based work, but he simply lost the interest to find out more about it years back. There was just no other information except for the professional and polished look his dad always carried around even during casual hours.

He was always well-groomed, clean shaven, hunky and macho. His dashing blue eyes crowned by a dark thick brow, sinfully hooked many to his broad and high cheeked face. And his schooled voice and wooing smile were just simply electrifyingly irresistible.

Frank noticed Irwin’s sulkiness.

“Hey, Babe, did you show him the things?”

Clarissa remembered. She took the unwrapped package from the mailman, which she had laid on top of the kitchen counter. She pulled another little box from the wreckage, a heroic survivor of the crash landing. She handed over the khaki paper wrapped present to Irwin.

“Happy birthday, Buddy...!” Frank cheered.

Irwin quickly ripped the fragile paper off the gift box. He opened the box and looked inside. He smiled, uncommonly, and pulled out the rare box of Russian nutty chocolate mixed with caramel.

Clarissa smiled as she saw the brightness on her son’s face.

Frank was also elated. “I wanted to send you that bike you wanted but using post for such big things is a headache.”

Irwin’s smile suddenly turned upside down, along with his world which already was. Just carry the bike yourself, Dad, and bring yourself home along with it, he thought to himself.

“I’m coming back home soon, Buddy! I promise”

How is he so good at mind reading, Irwin thought.

“I still have a few more assignments that I have to finish, but I’ll be home soon, okay!” he added.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Clarissa intervened, “And don’t keep something you can’t promise.”

As if she knew, the door in the background in Frank’s room suddenly opened...a woman’s sixth sense, fully ripe inside of her! Frank panicked as he noticed the door open in the background in his webcam.

“Um, I’m going to have to call you guys back.”

His primed super quick reflexes shut down the video call before his family could see who had entered.

Clarissa closed her laptop and removed it from the table. A closed chapter...? Or perhaps a closed close call during a call!

She placed the laptop on top of the counter, took Irwin’s chocolates and placed them in the fridge.

Irwin continued to sulk. He noticed how his mother was banging things around...the fridge door, the pots and pans, the cupboard doors.

“Mom!” called out Irwin.

“What!” she shouted, before realizing Irwin wasn’t his father...she cooled down. “I mean, what is it, Honey?”

“How come I don’t feel it...I mean, I don’t feel the things that other people feel?” Irwin innocently asked.

“Things like what, Hun’?”

“Well, things like, love (...blushingly) ...making?”

Clarissa froze. She felt embarrassed at just the thought of her feelings being naked in front of her own son, perhaps even barer than her half naked body. She kept her cool. This was only her son, not CNN.

“Your body is still growing, Hun’. You will feel those things soon enough.”

“My body is not growing, Mom? I’m 18 and still look like a 12 year old!”

“Your body grows slower than most people, Irwin. We discussed this before. It’s in your genes...It’s in both our genes. Look at me.”

“It’s not the same, Mom. You had surgery.”

“Oh, so that’s what this is about?” She suddenly realized, “You want the treatment.”

Clarissa walked closer to her son and leaned over him, lovingly laying a hand on his lean shoulder. She looked at him adoringly.

“You don’t need to change who you are, Irwin. You’ll get to a stage where people will worship you for your body.”

“I don’t want to be worshipped, Mom. I just want to be normal.”

“Growth deficiency is not abnormal, Irwin, if that’s what you think. It’s actually normal...one in every three hundred thousand people. And it’s a blessing.” She said brushing a hand against his delicate smooth skin, “You’ll learn to appreciate it one day.”

She was a lovely caring mother, who had outgrown the little child inside of her own self that had not been weaned out but suppressed, suffering through the same Hypogonadism as her son, but successfully hiding it behind years of medical treatment and surgical enhancement.

“But you promised, Mom.” Irwin wailed, desperately.

She looked at her son, at his handsome young face, his reddish brown silky hair, his light complexion, and his charming blue-grey eyes. She saw the innocence. She saw herself in him.

“This is about Seniors Summer Camp, isn’t it?” Clarissa asked, realizing.

How are parents so good at mind reading a child, Irwin wondered even though they sucked at fulfilling what they would have read?

“Mom, you are the one who said Seniors Summer Camp is the most important.” Irwin noted.

“And it is. It’s where your father and I met.” She smiled.

“I know. You told me like a thousand times. You also said I could choose to get this done when I get to eighteen.”

“You really want this, huh?” Clarissa asked.

“Yeah,”

“Okay.”

“Really, Mom...?”

“Yes, Hun’, we’ll go see a Private tomorrow.”

“Yey...” Irwin exclaimed jumping out of his seat. That was easier than he had thought. He hugged Clarissa. “Thanks, Mom. You are the best. I love you.”

She hugged him back, “I love you too.”



Chapter 2

Private Practice



Clarissa and Irwin walked into the foyer at the doctor’s. The nurse at the front desk, Latisha, was a little overweight...near-midnight skin, large dark brown eyes, and full lips that tempted to elope, wed, divorce and return back home in a minute long kiss.

She looked tall when she sat...and that was only because she was sitting on her very big fat ass. When she stood, the rest of her would bulge outwards, into a big bubble butt behind her, and into a big fat stomach cultivated from years of double cheese burgers and roasted chicken, and then childbirth. And, she had these really humungous spongy breasts that had to be thankful for her strong bra straps for keeping them from collapsing into her lap.

Irwin stared motionlessly and blatantly at Latisha’s cleavage which her custom tailored white nurse’s uniform was finding difficult to contain. He leaned over inadvertently, almost sinking into it...and oblivious to everyone else uncomfortably noticing him.

Needless to say, something had caught Irwin’s attention...the little strands of hair on Latisha’s chest. He felt jealous for that body hair...felt angry at creation. How could she have excess when he had none at all?

Latisha loudly cleared her throat to alert him of his conspicuous gaze.

“See Hun’...” Clarissa dispelled, pulling Irwin back, “I told you those things you were talking about would come soon enough.”

“Mom...!” He retorted...feeling misconstrued.

Clarissa turned to the receptionist, “Hi there, you must be Latisha...”

Latisha only managed to send a single nod out of her pissed self.

“I’m Mrs. Perkins and this is my son, Irwin. He has just turned eighteen, and he will be graduating from High School this year.”

“Really...!” Latisha wondered doubtfully.

The two didn’t seem like mother and child on face view, perhaps sister and brother in matching jeans and corduroys that were polished and relaxed, with short-sleeve button downs

“Is Doctor Hemsworth in?” Clarissa asked.

“Yes. And she is expecting you.” Latisha replied. “Straight down the corridor, second door to your left...”

Clarissa and Irwin proceeded to the consultation room.

Latisha watched as they disappeared down the bright passageway. After checking to see that she was now alone, she sat herself upright in her chair, bubbling. And she proudly patted and admired her infamous large bosom.

---------------


“So let me see what your mother was talking about.” Doctor Hemsworth said to Irwin.

Doctor Butterfly Hemsworth was an endocrinologist. She specialized in human growth issues.

She wasn’t pretty, but she was warm. The brightness of her benevolence outshined the whiteness of her coat, white curtains, white stretcher bed sheets and the white color of the walls.

She was five years older from the time her life had begun. At 45, she had the kind of magnetic compassion, in her touch, in her voice, in her smile, and in her narrow green-grey eyes, that would make any man, or woman for that matter, wish they could stop growing just to go and see her.

The nature of her face was rather manly, despite the nurtured smoothness of her skin, and groomed narrow brow. At first glance you would anticipate her to be the bullish, dominant raucous type, but rather she was quite shy, reserved and cuddly soft.

She would whisk you away into this fantasy bar counter argument, as you drunkenly dispel, yes, she got her loving character from Santa, but where in the hell did she get her distasteful looks from...From her ma or from her grandma?...or maybe from a marijuana addicted aunt?

But nonetheless, she was beautifully unattractive in an unattractive beautiful way.

Butterfly and Clarissa’s husbands had been distant colleagues since High School. They had been on the football team together, joined the navy together and were now retired early from the army and working for the government and deployed in Russia together.

Besides knowing her through her husband, Clarissa Perkins had once met Doctor Butterfly Hemsworth after being diagnosed and treated of a genetically inherited growth deficiency syndrome. Back then, Butterfly was still an intern.

Frank knew about Clarissa’s Hypogonadism when he had married her. She had already gone through cosmetic surgery to enhance her looks... a boob-job to be more specific. But she knew Frank was in love with something more other than just her invitingly palpable B size.

Hypogonadism in a woman has its many flaws. But, to some it has a pro or two...mainly to the perverted, perhaps, a fetish, to be more polite. Whether it was coincidental or otherwise premeditated, or whatever the case was, Clarissa only knew Frank was totally in love with the tree in the middle of her Garden of Eden. Hypogonadism meant her vaginal muscles couldn’t stretch much, which meant she stayed as tight as a virgin even after years of amazingly delicious daily sex. And it drove Frank wild.

When they had tried for a baby without much luck, she was given a hormonal boost to induce ovulation. The treatment worked. Irwin was born. Doctor Butterfly Hemsworth had assisted in the treatment, under supervision of her seniors. Ironically, Clarissa was a beauty therapist by profession, and as a gesture of courtesy, she also awarded her services to Butterfly. Believe it or not, Butterfly was now looking more beautiful than her alcoholic aunt.

The couples would occasionally get together on weekends, play cards together, listen to music, have drinks and share jokes. They became very close, baby sat for each other, took care of each other’s needs...every need, every need you can think of.

After the boys had been deployed overseas a few years back, the social meetings became rare. The harsh demands of doubled duties as mother and head of the house made the distance between the two wives grow with the years.

Clarissa Perkins and Butterfly Hemsworth had stood frozen in gladness and filtered emotion as they shed a tear and sunk deep into each other’s warm embrace...fortuitous feelings churning.

It had been a while, and seeing each other for the first time after a long spell was an amazing feeling for both women.

In a way, they had reminded each other of their husbands, the joyous memories they had shared together...the love so strong...the passion so deep. It ignited something, that wasn’t meant to be awoken. A dead desire that had been mummified for years...a needling need that needed to be nestled.

But whatever it was, it had to be resisted...but only for a moment, because Clarissa Perkins hadn’t come to see Butterfly Hemsworth. It was Irwin, her son, who was in dire need of seeing the Doctor for the same hormonal replacement therapy that Clarissa had received so many years back.

Irwin dropped down his pants. Doctor Butterfly Hemsworth stared long at the boy’s undetailed groin.

“I must say...” Doctor Hemsworth remarked as she continued to examine Irwin’s infantile body, “Your Mother had every reason to be concerned over the phone. How old are you again?”

“18.” Irwin replied.

Doctor Hemsworth penned down a few notes, picked up a syringe.

“I’m going to have to run over a few tests.”

Irwin didn’t find anything wrong with stripping in front of his mom. Apart from the apparently inherited nudist nature, part of him still behaved like a 12 year old.

Clarissa, on the other hand, had learnt the art of pretending to look at something while actually not looking at it. She could see that Irwin was half naked, but she was only watching the desperate expression on his face. She looked at him like a worried mother would look at her sick child, and she could perfectly understand how much of urgency this matter was for him.

“It’s the same growth problem I had.” Clarissa interpolated, “Irwin is just like me, Doctor Hemsworth.”

“Yes, that’s right, Mrs. Perkins. But, I’ll need to fully diagnose the extent of the growth deficiency so I can know which hormone replacement therapy to prescribe.”

Doctor Hemsworth gently rubbed Irwin’s butt with a piece of sterilized cotton, injected the syringe into his soft tissue and drew out a blood sample. Irwin twitched a little from the sharp sting.

“It’s going to take a couple of weeks before I can come up with a full diagnosis.” Doctor Hemsworth said, as she injected the blood sample into a sealed lab test tube.

Again Clarissa looked at her son’s worrisome face... She had it at the back of her mind from the earlier talk with her son that the most important thing was the last Summer Camp of High School.

“Irwin is going back to school next week. Isn’t there any way we can make the treatment sooner?”

“There are several tests that just have to be done at the lab, Mrs. Perkins,” Stated Doctor Hemsworth.

She too could see Irwin’s anguish. But, she had gathered from her years of experience that perfection was much more imperative than pity.

“Next week is Seniors Summer Camp.” Clarissa noted.

Butterfly gasped. She had suddenly remembered, “Summer Camp?”

“Yes, Summer Camp,” reiterated Clarissa, “You remember, don’t you?”

“I..., well I could prescribe a temporary supplement.”

“No, Butsie, not temporary. He needs a good dose that will make him ready in time for camp.”

“But you know I am not allowed to do that.” Butterfly pleaded,

“Butsie...” Clarissa persuaded.

“Clarrie...Mrs. Perkins, I mean.” Butterfly stuttered.

Irwin wondered. He felt like he was in the middle of a tennis court and watching the ball being struck from one end of the court to the other and back again.

“Irwin, Hun’ could you wait for me in the foyer, I need to have a little talk with the Doc,” Clarissa said.

Irwin grumpily slipped his pants back up and went out of the room.

Two yearning women stood in each other’s lonesome presence...face to face, heart to heart, and bust to bust. One muddled in dilemma, the other clutched in conviction...both drenched in desire.

They both knew their husbands had not been home for a while. They were both biologists, and they both understood how much the sexual starvation was maliciously masticating their brains out up to psychotic levels.

It wasn’t the first time. They had done it before. Butsie and Clarrie...that’s what they had called each other. But, it had been a while since they had lent each other a helping hand...literally. But the obvious was inevitable.

Clarissa didn’t just want to sweet talk the doc into treating her son immediately. She wanted to bribe her with something sweeter than money.

She magnetically drifted towards Butterfly. The desire was deluding, and the guilt was disturbing, but the hankering of the flesh was overwhelming the tentativeness of the mind.

“Clarrie, you know I’m not allowed to do this.” Butterfly lamented.

“Do what, Butsie...? Me or the procedure on my son...?”

Butterfly knew what Clarissa was insinuating. She could feel the tiny icicles of wetness exploding inside her depth. She remembered the feeling...of her long fingers being sumptuously squeezed inside the tantalizing tightness of Clarissa’s vagina. The temptation to relive those horny and drunken nights was torturously irresistible.

She bailed, “I’ll need a proper diagnosis of the situation before I can do anyone, I mean...before I can do anything,” she stammered.

Clarissa insisted, “You don’t need a diagnosis, Butsie. You only need me.”

Clarissa moved much closer until her bust was touching Butterfly’s sternum. She was a foot shorter.

Butterfly froze in ambivalence...shook in lust. She could feel the firmness of Clarissa’s breasts. She felt her slightly long clit pop out of its hood and press hard against her silk laced panties, in defiance to its mistress, and dribbling pockets of wetness in between her thighs. Her breathing escalated.

She murmured. “I’m a pro...professional.”

“So am I,” was the hissed seductive response.

“And, I shouldn’t be doing this.” Butterfly begged.

“Neither should I.”

Clarissa lifted herself up on her toes, grabbed Butterfly by the neck yanking her head lower, and gently kissing her on the lips, just once...a soft little peck...and she gently drew back.

She stroked Butterfly’s bottom lip with a finger, like you would do to the edge of a wine glass as you cherish the sweet taste of red wine.

“The taste grows stronger with the years.” She whispered warmly.

Suddenly Butterfly grabbed Clarissa by the ass and lifted her up into her arms. Clarissa was delightfully shocked...chuckled excitedly. Then Clarissa landed her lips onto Butterfly’s. They kissed long, and passionately, sinking their tongues deep into each other’s mouths.

They itched for that raw and primitive sex which they once knew. They knew they had little time. There were others in the foyer, and the passion needed to explode as quickly as it was captivatingly conjuring up. No time to take off clothes...only time to devour each other.

---------------


Irwin sat motionlessly on the bench in the foyer. He had a long gaze...his mind a million miles away, maybe in Russia, maybe at Summer Camp. No one else knew, no one else could know...but his gaze was directly affixed on Latisha’s very large breasts...once again.

Latisha traversed from being uncomfortable to being amused having noticed that Irwin was not deliberate but rather pensive. She stared back at him, blatantly and waited until at some point, Irwin would snap out of his daydream. But he didn’t.

In those few seconds of reverie, she quickly thought of a fun way to teach the boy a lesson he would never forget.

She placed an index finger on the edge of one side of the collar of her uniform. Then she slowly slid the finger along the edge, moving her hand down to her cleavage, down to the bottom part of her collar where her last button was. Still, Irwin’s unintentional gaze on the Nurse’s giant bosom was unwavering.

Latisha slowly began to undo her button. And with both hands, she gently unpinned the top part of her uniform, and slowly...ever so gently, began to rip it open, to unveil only but a hint, just a small glimpse, of her large beige cotton double D bra.

The graphic images turbulently began to descend towards the runway, and rapidly landed at the airport on Irwin’s Island of Dreams inside his head. Irwin suddenly crash landed back to reality, and noticed his seemingly perverted gaze. He ridiculously tried to cover up the awkwardness by pretending to look elsewhere. But, the more he tried, the funnier it looked. Latisha laughed her lungs out loud as she buttoned herself up again.

“You know what, my friend,” she chuckled, “if these ladies could talk, they would ask you for a handshake. ‘Hey, how you doin’..?’”

She cracked herself hard, mockingly.

Irwin slid deeper into the bench in embarrassment.

---------------


Inside the examination room, Butsie pinned Clarrie from behind against the white wall. Butsie’s right hand dug deep into Clarrie’s unbuttoned jeans, and into her fiery red panties, and wildly stroked the deliciously sensitive outside part of her pussy.

Her other hand was inside Clarrie’s top, quenching her thirsty hard nipples. Clarrie had her left hand behind her, digging deep under Butsie’s skirt and viciously stroking her happily obliging clitoris. Her other hand was pressed against the wall, supporting both their weights.

Clarrie was shorter, so in front she fitted perfectly into Butsie’s length...And also, this allowed for her to turn her neck back and upwards while Butsie leaned forward and they could tongue-fuck each other’s mouths as they finger-fucked each other’s pussy.

It was magical. That feeling of somebody else’s hand masturbating you was electrifying. Pleasure is always heightened with the presence of the unanticipated strokes of another partner’s hand.

The motion was consistent, vigorous and intense. They were standing back to front, and clinging to each other desperately. The sensuality of feeling of a pair of erect nipples pressing deep into one’s back and the softness of a warm ass pressing deep into the other’s hip was riveting.

There was no time to feel guilty, only enough to embrace the moment. They kept their rhythm, pleasuring each other endlessly, and kissing intimately as they propelled floods of sensations into each other’s sanity.

They moved their hips and hands in perfect tune to each other’s needs. And gently moaned to every exhilarating breeze...they could feel each other’s warmth rising with the rising passion. They could feel the building up of orgasmic energy...the breathing increased, the heaves, and the moans. The heartbeats raced, muscles tensed...the vibrating hands went into full throttle, and rivers of wetness flooded...vaginas tightened.

They could feel the extremity of each other’s enjoyment...and communicating in pulse, ever getting closer to that moment of maximum delight. But they both wanted it to happen mutually. They delayed, and they calculated...until it suddenly grew so strong for both that it could no longer be contained.

They both heaved in one last giant breath, and it happened...they exploded into a phenomenally beautiful orgasm... They shook, and spasmed...tensed and curled up, clenched onto each other strong, fell to the floor on their knees...wet juices dribbling from their quenched pussies, and at the exact same time, letting out loud moans that pierced through the walls, down the corridor and echoed...

...into the foyer!

Both Latisha and Irwin were startled. Even the leaves of the artificial green plants in the corners shook. No. That was just the breeze coming in through the open windows, coincidentally. Fine! But the point is that, that orgasm was that powerful.

Irwin looked at Latisha in perplexity. She too looked back at him in similar confusion.

“Must be the injections,” she deduced. “That often happens.”

---------------


The sharp end of the needle of a syringe pierced effortlessly into the tender flesh of Irwin’s butt, once again. He tensed up as he felt the coldness of the medicine sip deep into his veins.

He was back in the examination room, in a prone position on the stretcher bed, pants pulled back, and naked ass in the air, as Doctor Hemsworth administered a serum into his system.

Clarissa sat on a chair in the corner, recovering.

“It’s a concentrated dosage. One shot is all you’ll need.” Butterfly said to Irwin, “It’s got that instant touch, so you’ll want to take it easy for the rest of the day.”

She disposed of the used injection and latex gloves into a sanitary bin.

“I gave you a sex hormone”

-- Mmh!? --

Irwin startled.

“It normally acts quickly, so don’t be alarmed if you see sudden changes taking place.” Doctor Hemsworth explained. “It will stimulate your sex organs to naturally induce growth patterns in your body. We will begin monitoring your system from then on. If the growth patterns do not initiate, then we will proceed to advanced growth enhancement.”

She patted him amiably on the butt, a sign for him to get up and get dressed.

He did. It was done.





Chapter 3

Cold Comfort



It was a day like any other but a morning like no other.

Irwin Perkins felt the bed covers much heavier on him than ever before. He remembered what he had read on about growth enhancement therapy. He remembered his skin was becoming extra sensitive...the slightest pressure from the single orange striped bed cover he was under felt like a ton of bricks.

But then there was more...he felt quite lightheaded, and it wasn’t just because he was still in a morning dozy daze. It was as if something was cutting the blood circulation to his head. At that moment, he removed the bed cover and tossed it aside.

Irwin liked to go to bed in the nude...especially in summer. He examined himself, and there it was...the culprit, the source of the throbbing pain which was paralyzing his entire body...His furious erection stood stiff like a flag pole.

Irwin gasped at the sight of his first ever erection. The tip of his penis was thumping rigorously like a fully automated machine gun. The shaft was flicking up and down like a famished cuckoo.

It was swelling up, felt like a nuclear bomb about to explode. For the first time in his life, Irwin could see the veins under the pale skin of the shaft of his weenie.

It felt as if every ounce of blood in his body was being forced down there, and Irwin could swear, the size of his rod must have doubled over night or something.

That piece of tissue was designed by nature to grow big. And that’s what the new hormones in his system were working at. And it was unbearably painful. His dick felt swollen, heavy and ridiculously hot.

He squirmed in earth-shattering pain as he held his abdomen with both hands, trying to sooth the torture. But the soreness refused to waiver, the throbbing was merciless.

The pain was threatening to rupture the organ into pieces. He held the full length of his cock with the palm of his hand. That was a mistake. In his grip, the throbbing intensified. With his hand blocking the veins, more blood engorged. He screamed.

“Mom...!”

He let go of his cock, dashed out of his room, butt naked through the house, went into the bathroom and stood under the cold shower. The pain only eased a little, but the erection was uncompromising.

He got the gist of it. Ran to the kitchen, shoved his pecker into a bucket of ice...he could imagine in his head the hot steam sizzling as he shoved his hot rod into the ice. The heat subsided. It worked...almost. Pain gone...erection not, even in the ice that creature was stubborn.

As his normal senses started to return to him, Irwin suddenly realized the weirdness of the moment...a butt naked small boy standing in the kitchen with a bucket of ice in his groin.

He went on his toes and slithered out of the kitchen and dashed towards the bedrooms. But before he could get to his door, his mom called out...

“Irwin...!”

He froze right there in the corridor.

“I heard you calling me.” She murmured in a sleepy slumber from inside her bedroom which was vicinal to his.

He had to come up with something fast. He could slightly see her at a blurry distance through the merely opened door of her room. She lay on her tummy in her double bed, slightly covered by the Afghan quilt.

He could tell she wasn’t wearing anything at all, except for a pair of thongs that possibly left the bottom half of her ass out in the open, if he had to walk in, he would see that.

Barely a day ago it never used to matter, but somehow, Irwin felt he could no longer see his mom like this, and he quickly stepped back from the door.

“I... Um, I just...wanted to say...Good morning, Mom.” He stuttered.

“...And, a good morning to you too, Hun’,” she called back. “Now, come in here and give me a good morning hug like you always do.”

Irwin froze. He looked at the bucket of ice in his groin. He knew he couldn’t. He looked at his mother’s bedroom door, knew she was half-naked in there...no way he was walking in.

“I... Um, I can’t.” He spelled it out.

“Don’t be silly, Irwin. What do you mean you can’t?”

“I...Uh,” the coldness of the ice quickly gave him an idea, “I have flu.”

“You have flu?” she asked concernedly, “Are you reacting to the sups?”

“Yeah...” He smiled, realizing she had bought the excuse, “A very big reaction.” He exaggerated.

He darted off and slipped into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

-- Phew --

But his struggle was not yet over. He placed his knew found ally on top of the dresser, although by now the ice inside was beginning to melt.

Irwin knew he had to find another more convenient solution fast. He paced back and forth, trying to think...while his stiff defiant penis protruded relentlessly. The more he delayed coming up with a plan, the more the pain in his abdomen started to creep back up.

He looked at the items on his dresser, thought about applying Vaseline, but that usually made his skin feel warm, the opposite of the ice. No, that won’t do. What about the aqueous cream? It has a cooling effect, he remembered. Yeah, maybe that might do...or maybe not. But he was getting late. The ache was crawling back fast and destructive like a sweeping tornado.

He impetuously, desperately applied the aqueous cream onto his cock. Suddenly, he felt that tingle, that soothing cold effect. It worked. He felt a cool breeze wrinkling placidly along his sensitive shaft. The pain capitulated. Somehow, it felt delightful. But it only lasted for a brief moment. The heat in his blood soon engulfed the coolness of the cream in a matter of seconds.

So he applied more of the cream. The chilling effect was magical. It was so relieving, and ironically enough, it felt like fireworks... especially as he was rubbing the gentle cream along the full length of his penis...it felt very nice...even nicer at the tip. It was electrifying... something he had never felt before.

Irwin continued massaging his cock with his hand. The effect of the chilling aqueous cream was addictively scintillating.

He just couldn’t stop. Stopping meant the pain coming back. Not stopping meant more pleasure...it was incredible. It was indubitable.

He continued to stroke...started with slow movements, before realizing the faster he went, the more intense the pleasure got. He couldn’t believe it. Does this process exist in science? It’s not even mentioned in biology books.

He felt his breathing increasing, felt his heartbeat inside his cock. Whirlwinds of pleasure were building inside of him. He panicked...what is this? Could this be detrimental? He wanted to stop, but he couldn’t. It was as if his hand was on autopilot. It was too irresistibly pleasurable.

He felt himself weak at the knees. He buckled to the floor, holding onto the dresser for dear life and knocking over a few items onto the floor. He lost control of his body. His eyes closed, he started to make short cries of delight. He had never felt anything this incredible before.

He suddenly felt all the muscles inside his body tense, felt that sudden rush of chillness spread across his entire skin...that hair-raising sensation. He almost went short of breath, before suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to pee...and that urge felt ever so delicious. No other taste in the world could compare. He couldn’t move his body at all enough to make the trip to the toilet. He couldn’t even stop his hand from rapidly stroking his cock.

The atomic pleasure building up inside of him intensified until it created a cluster bomb. And suddenly, the weapon of mass destruction detonated and blasted through every nerve, from his cock, to his groin, to his spine, to his thighs, his knees, his chest, and the entire force struck the back of his head like an 18-wheeler, and he groaned out loud in unbelievable ecstasy as he experienced his first ever orgasm.

A small amount of colorless fluid trickled out of the tip of his penis. No semen. Nope...none at all! It was probably urethral lubricant.

Irwin wearily collapsed onto the cold wooden floor. He caught his breath and smiled. What was that? He thought. That was amazing. He slowly dragged himself up from the uncomfortable floor, and threw himself onto his bed to recover from whatever the hell that was...or whatever the heaven, maybe.

He pasted a huge smile on his flushed face as he realized, the notorious pain in his pelvis was gone. His stubborn penis was finally defeated...and subdued like a cuddly little baby in a pair of cozy arms that had been crying annoyingly and then gently stroked back to sleep.

He sighed...he closed his eyes.

“Irwin...!”

The door suddenly opened as Clarissa quickly paced in, her eyes only focused on balancing a hot bowl of chicken soup in her bare palms and she quickly laid it on the dresser. She shook her hands in the air.

“I talked to your doctor on the phone and she said the flu can be a normal reaction to the injection she gave you and she told me to tell you not to worry and to take it easy.”

Irwin pretended to sleep. It felt weird being butt naked while his mom was in the room, although over the years, she had mastered the art of looking at him in the face and never at his naked body.

“Irwin...!” she called out again.

No response.

She noticed the mess on the floor and the open aqueous cream bottle...assumed child’s play.

She innocently picked up the few items dropped on the floor...the alarm clock, diary, lotions and body creams. She lovingly wiped the floor clean, picked up the bucket of ice...and walked out of the room.

---------------


The rest of the week was a joyful nightmare for Irwin. His first orgasm didn’t just alleviate the ache in his groin, but it also ignited a giant perpetual sexual fire that had lay dormant for years, and that was now begging to be extinguished.

He surrendered to this unstoppable phenomenon of nature and became addicted to its delectable tang which it offered in return. It had the importunity of cud in a ruminant’s stomach which you would think you have chewed on it enough and it’s gone, only for it to resurface moments later and asking you to chew on it again.

He wanted it all day, and he just couldn’t stop. He fucked his hand and came. He fucked the pillow and came. He switched hands, used the other one. He fucked that other one too...he came and came and came. The more he came, the more he wanted it more.

He imagined his cock inside a pussy. He had no idea of what a pussy looked like, and had never seen one in real life before. He imagined the feeling...being inside there must be enjoyable, he thought.

He took his biology books, scrolled to the reproduction chapter...seeing that cross-section of a woman’s anatomy, he got incredibly aroused. He started to grind his cock against the quilt. The friction of fabric against the sensitive head of his penis was elating.

He ejaculated...but not satiated.

He placed a pillow in between the mattress and the spring box, fucked it right there. He came and again and again. It was unstoppable.

His secretions started off as a mere colorless fluid, until eventually within a few days he began to see the white of semen as his body continually responded to the new set of hormones expeditiously tunneling their way through his system.

As soon as the thick flow of semen started to spew out of his cock, the marathons began to feel more uncomfortable. He easily got spent after just a single orgasm and could only recoup after half an hour or so.

Clarissa quickly noticed the sudden change in behavior...the longer sleeping hours, the longer bathing times and the sudden change in fragrance in her house, especially from Irwin’s room which she cleaned occasionally.

She just couldn’t pin point what it was exactly, but she just thought, well, maybe it’s the scent of a teenage boy in puberty. She was almost right. It wasn’t puberty, but it was the scent of rotting semen embedded in pillows and fabric. She opened the windows, and sprayed his room and the entire house with an unconquerable Arabian perfume.

Even the diet changed. Chocolate was no longer a favorite. Irwin suddenly thought it was too sweet. He started craving the salty and spicy stuff...roasted chili meat, toasted peanuts, ginger tonic...

No wonder why semen tastes salty. It’s not the taste of pee that leaves a sour aftertaste in the mouth after a good blow. It’s the taste of semen. It’s like a secret code between sperm and vagina that allows it to survive the otherwise hostile conditions meant to exterminate any foreign intruders.

Irwin couldn’t help but image what a pussy would look like in real life. He searched on the internet on his phone for in depth detail. But, that child lock from his network provider denied him access. It was going to be at least a few more days before the network finishes processing his request. Only drawn diagrams appeared in all his searches, nothing more graphic than that. Absolutely disappointing!

The over-sexually aroused boy explored the house in search of ideas and ways to access and view, that mesmerizing crack in between the legs of a woman. That new lingering Middle Eastern fragrance in the house sent titillating petals under his skin. His uncontrollable erection mounted all day. The level of curiosity and substantial perversion was just so irrepressible.

Even when just watching an innocent movie, his mind would wander off and he would start to undress the actresses inside his head. He would imagine the shape and look of their pussy in relation to their outward appearance. Maybe tall women had long pussy lips...maybe fat women had fat pussy lips. What about the light skinned women? Maybe theirs were the best looking. But, was that really the case? Of course not! But, Irwin needed to find out for himself.

His mother had carried her laptop to work. What else could he use? Then he remembered. The network on his phone was locked, yes, but the internet on the 42”Smart TV in the family room wasn’t. Armed with the remote control in his hand, he downloaded every R-rated music video he could find. Those small breasted Korean dancers in skimpy g-string bikini and shaking their asses made his day.

The swelling and pain in his rock hard member felt as if that thing was stretching itself more and more each day.

He sat in the family room butt naked watching explicit Korean music videos on the TV all day. He urgently needed to fuck something. He desperately looked around the house for prey.

He sneaked into the kitchen, searched the cupboards. There was nothing promising. He explored the basement...there were a few old clothes in the washing basket, perhaps he thought, a different fabric, a different sensation.

He emptied the entire basket onto the floor, heaped it into a messy pile and carried it back to the family room.

His plan was to watch the dirty dancers on TV while he fucked something. He hoped it would get him a closer feel of a real pussy through his imagination.

Where else could he pile the old clothes except for that who-cares-if-it-gets-messed-up place...Oh, yes! That old chintz couch! The gap in between the two cushions of that old timer looked like one very giant pussy crack. He slid the clothes from the basement in between that gap to increase the firmness.

In the midst of his uncontainable horniness, Irwin lay on top of his new design. With his shortness in height, he fitted comfortably along the length of the couch. His infuriated penis smoothly slid into the modified tight gap in between the cushions and silk, and he convulsed in sudden elation. The smoothness of fabric wrapped around his cock sucked him into a bed of roses...or perhaps a couch of roses.

He began to pound that relic of an ass-eater, as he ravenously devoured the salacious images of half naked bubble butts shaking, whining and bouncing.

He desperately held the TV remote control in his hand...pause, fast forward, repeat, rewind...He banged and bonked that couch in rhythm to the bouncing of the girls’ butts... Bounce, bang, bounce, bonk...

He squeezed the remote tighter as he felt the intensity of orgasm infesting his body. He happily gushed out dribbles of semen all over the fabrics and subsequently deep into the intestines of that old piece of furniture.


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