Archive name: Hairy Peeter and the Philosopher's Bone - Chapter 1.txt
Authors name: SensualKink (senskin@gmail.com) 
Story Title: HP 1 - Ch 1

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Hairy Peeter and the Philosopher's Bone - Chapter 1 
(ped, inc, cons, size, cum eating) 
By SensualKink (senskin@gmail.com)


Chapter One - The Boy Who Didn't Get Bunged to Death

   Mr.  and Mrs.  Droolsley, of number four, Pervert Drive, were proud to
say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.  They were the
last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious,
because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

   Mr.  Droolsley was the director of a firm called Gruntings, which made
dildoes.  He was a big, beefy man with hardly any cock, although he did
have very large testicals.  Mrs.  Droolsley was thin and blonde and had
nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she
spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the
neighbors, and on her knees in search of longer and longer cocks to suck.
The Droolsleys had a small son called Didley and in their opinion there was
no finer boy anywhere.

   The Droolsleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret,
and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it.  They didn't
think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Peeters.  Mrs. 
Peeter was Mrs.  Droolsley's sister, but they hadn't had sex for several
years; in fact, Mrs.  Droolsley pretended she didn't have a sister, because
her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDroolsleyish as it
was possible to be.  The Droolsleys shuddered to think what the neighbors
would say if the Peeters arrived in the street.  The Droolsleys knew that
the Peeters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him.  This
boy was another good reason for keeping the Peeters away; they didn't want
Didley mixing with a child like that.    When Mr.  and Mrs.  Droolsley woke
up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the
cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon
be happening all over the country.  Mr.  Droolsley hummed as he picked out
his most boring tie for work, and Mrs.  Droolsley gossiped away happily as
she wrestled a screaming Didley into his high chair then took his infantile
genitals into her mouth to calm him down.

   None of them noticed a large, tawny owl with human genitalia flutter
past the window.

   At half past eight, Mr.  Droolsley squirted a huge load of cum into his
wife's slurping lips, some of which she milked out into Didley's gruel to
add flavor.  He picked up his briefcase, wiped his spent cock on Mrs. 
Droolsley's cheek, and tried to kiss Didley good-bye but missed, because
Didley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. 
"Little fucker," chortled Mr.  Droolsley as he left the house.  He got into
his car and backed out of number four's drive.   

   It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of
something peculiar -- a cat with enormous human vulva reading a map.  For a
second, Mr.  Droolsley didn't realize what he had seen -- then he stopped
jerking off to look again.  There was a tabby cat with bulging pink vulva
standing on the corner of Pervert Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight.
What could he have been thinking of?  It must have been a trick of the
light.  Mr.  Droolsley blinked and stared at the cat's succulent genitalia.
It stared back.  As Mr.  Droolsley drove around the corner and up the road,
he watched the cat in his mirror, beating off and imagining what it would
be like to fuck it.  It was now reading the sign that said Pervert Drive --
no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs.  Mr.  Droolsley
gave himself a vigorous handjob and put the cat out of his mind.  As he
drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of dildoes he
was hoping to get that day.    But on the edge of town, dildoes were driven
out of his mind by something else.  As he sat whacking his pud in the usual
morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a
lot of strangely dressed people about.  People in thongs.  Mr.  Droolsley
couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes -- the getups you saw on
young people!  He supposed this was some stupid new fashion.  He drummed
his free fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of
these weirdos standing quite close by.  They were whispering excitedly
together.  Mr.  Droolsley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't
young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an
emerald-green thong!  The nerve of him!  But then it struck Mr.  Droolsley
that this was probably some silly stunt -- these people were obviously
selling something...  yes, that would be it.  Maybe even dildoes.  The
traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr.  Droolsley arrived in the
Gruntings parking lot, his mind back on dildoes and pissed off that those
weirdos had kept him from squirting a load in his coffee.

   Mr.  Droolsley always sat with his back to the window in his office on
the ninth floor because he was always jerking off at work.  If he hadn't,
he might have found it harder to concentrate on dildoes that morning.  He
didn't see the owls swooping past with their oversized genitalia flapping
in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and
gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead.  Most of them had never
seen an owl even at nighttime.  Mr.  Droolsley, however, had a perfectly
normal, owl-free morning.  He yelled at five different people over the
intercom while he was fucking his new, young secretary in the ass.  He made
several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more while she knelt
and took his copious load in her mouth.  He was in a very good mood until
lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road
to buy himself a cum bun from the bakery.

   He'd forgotten all about the people in thongs until he passed a group of
them next to the baker's.  He eyed them angrily as he passed.  He didn't
know why, but they made him uneasy.  This bunch were whispering excitedly,
too, and he couldn't see a single advertisement.  It was on his way back
past them, clutching a large cock-and-ball shaped doughnut with the
cashier's pussy juice all over it in a bag, that he caught a few words of
what they were saying.

   "The fucking Peeters, that's right, that's what I heard yes, their
fucking son, Hairy"

   Mr.  Droolsley stopped dead.  Fear flooded him and he peed his pants a
little.  He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something
to them, but thought better of it.

   He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his
secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished
dialing his home number when he changed his mind.  He put the receiver back
down and stroked his cock, thinking...  no, he was being stupid.  Peeter
wasn't such an unusual name.  He was sure there were lots of people called
Peeter who had a son called Hairy.  Come to think of it, he wasn't even
sure his nephew was called Hairy.  He'd never even seen the boy.  It might
have been Horace.  Or Hubert.  There was no point in worrying Mrs. 
Droolsley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister.  He didn't
blame her -- if he'd had a sister who was that fucking hot...  but all the
same, those people in thongs...

   He found it a lot harder to concentrate on dildoes that afternoon even
when he made his secretary get under the desk and suck his ass-fucked cock
but after two hours he finally gave up ever being able to squirt in his
secretary's mouth again.  He left the building at five o'clock and he was
still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the
door.

   "Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell.  It
was a few seconds before Mr.  Droolsley realized that the man was wearing a
violet thong.  He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the
ground.  Or by the fact that his ill-fitting thong became displaced and his
genitals were swinging free for all the world to see.  On the contrary, his
face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made
passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me
today!  Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last!  Even Muffles like
yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"

   And the old man hugged Mr.  Droolsley around the middle, taking an
opportunity to squeeze Droolsley's fat ass.  The old man hummed happily
grinding his flopping genitals around Droolsley's crotch and walked off.

   Mr.  Droolsley stood rooted to the spot.  He had been fondled by a
complete stranger.  He also thought he had been called a Muffle, whatever
that was.  And given the inexplicable hard-on he was now sporting, it was
safe to say he was rattled.  He hurried to his car and set off for home,
hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he
didn't approve of imagination.

   As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw --
and it didn't improve his mood -- was the tabby cat he'd spotted that
morning.  It was now sitting on his garden wall slowly lapping the perfect
pussy flower between its hairy legs.  He was sure it was the same one; it
had the same markings around its eyes.

   "Shit!" said Mr.  Droolsley loudly.  The cat didn't move.  It just gave
him a stern look.  Was this normal cat behavior?  Mr.  Droolsley wondered.
Trying to pull himself together, he made a point to not look at the cat's
wet labia and let himself into the house.  He was still determined not to
mention anything to his wife.

   Mrs.  Droolsley had had a nice, normal day.  She told him over dinner
all about Mrs.  Next Door's problems with her lesbian daughter and how
Didley had learned a new word ("Fuck!").  Mr.  Droolsley tried to act
normally.  When Didley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in
time to catch the last report on the evening news:

   "And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's
owls have been behaving very unusually today.  Although owls normally hunt
at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of
sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise.  Experts
are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping
pattern or why they all appear to have oversized genitalia." The newscaster
allowed himself a grin.  "Most mysterious.  And now, over to Jim McGulpin
with the weather.  Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"

   "Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not
only the owls that have been acting oddly today.  Viewers as far apart as
Kunt, Yankshire, and Dumdee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of
the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of steaming semen! 
Perhaps people have been celebrating Bunfuck Night early -- it's not until
next week, folks!  But I can promise a sticky night tonight."

   Mr.  Droolsley sat frozen in his armchair.  Raining semen all over
Britain?  Deformed owls flying by daylight?  Mysterious people in thongs
all over the place?  And a whisper, a whisper about the Peeters...

   Mrs.  Droolsley came into the living room in her leather and chains
one-piece carrying two cups of tea.  She looked very attractive with her
cone-shaped tits protruding from circular cut-outs with black pasties over
her long, hard nipples.  Her camel toe was completely obvious and her
shapely ass was bare in the back with only a thin leather thong running
between her cheeks.  She adjusted her black eye-mask and knelt down to
slurp and suck his huge balls, wanking his little cock to produce the
evenings tea flavoring.  It was no good.  He'd have to say something to
her. He cleared his throat nervously.  "Er -- Peetuna, dear -- you haven't
heard from your sister lately, have you?"

   As he had expected, Mrs.  Droolsley looked shocked and angry.  After
all, they normally pretended she didn't have a hot sister who got all the
cock.

   "Fuck no," she said, sharply squeezing his balls.  "Why the fuck would
you ask that?"

   "Funny stuff on the news," Mr.  Droolsley mumbled.  "Owls...  raining
semen...  and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..."

   "So the fuck what?" snapped Mrs.  Droolsley, slipping her thin lips over
his now-dribbling cock and easily sucking him into her warm mouth.

   "Well, I just thought...  maybe...  it was something to do with...  you
know...  her crowd." He struggled to get the words out as she deftly
brought him off and laced their tea with long squirts of his thick goo.

   Mrs.  Droolsley sipped her cummy tea through pursed lips.  Mr. 
Droolsley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Peeter."
He decided he didn't dare.  Instead he said, as casually as he could,
"Their son -- he'd be about Didley's age now, wouldn't he?"

   "I suppose so," said Mrs.  Droolsley stiffly, using a small cracker to
scoop up a thick glob of white sperm sauce then lifting it to her hungry
mouth.

   "What's his name again?  Hobart, isn't it?"

   "Hairy.  Nasty, common name, if you ask me." As if in warning that he'd
ruined the mood, she reached down and detached a device from her belt.  It
was a flail on one end and a thick black dildo on the other.

   "Oh, yes," said Mr.  Droolsley, his heart sinking horribly.  "Yes, I
quite agree." He shivered with dread as she began to stroke the flail over
his huge balls.

   He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed.
While Mrs.  Droolsley was in the bathroom preparing his enema, Mr. 
Droolsley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front
garden. The cat was still there licking itself.  It was staring down
Pervert Drive as though it were waiting for something.

   Was he imagining things?  Could all this have anything to do with the
Peeters?  If it did...  if it got out that they were related to a pair of
-- well, he didn't think he could bear it.

   The Droolsleys got into bed.  After whipping his ass and fucking him
relentlessly with a strap-on, Mrs.  Droolsley fell asleep quickly but Mr.
Droolsley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind.  His last, comforting
thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Peeters were involved,
there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs.  Droolsley.  The
Peeters knew very well what he and Peetuna thought about them and their
kind....  He couldn't see how he and Peetuna could get mixed up in anything
that might be going on -- he yawned and turned over to take some pressure
off his aching ass-- it couldn't affect them....

   How very wrong he was.

   Mr.  Droolsley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the
cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness.  It was sitting
as still as a statue licking itself, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far
corner of Pervert Drive.  It didn't so much as quiver when a car door
slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead.  In fact,
it was nearly midnight before the cat stopped its steady licking at all.

   A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so
suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the
ground. The cat's labia twitched and its eyes narrowed.

   Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Pervert Drive.  He was tall,
thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his beard and pubics, which
were both long enough to tuck into his belt.  He was wearing long robes
that swept the ground over a purple thong, and high-heeled, buckled boots.
His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles
and his cock was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at
least twice.  This man's name was Anus Dribbledong.

   Anus Dribbledong didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a
street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome.  He was
busy rummaging in his loose thong, looking for something.  It left his huge
cock and balls dangling around in the night air though he seemed
unconcerned.  But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he
looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the
other end of the street.  For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to
amuse him.  He chuckled, wagged his long crooked cock up and down
muttering, "I should have known."

   He found what he was looking for amongst his gray-haired balls.  It
seemed to be a silver anal vibrator.  He gave it a lick, held it up in the
air, and clicked it to buzzing life.  The nearest street lamp went out with
a little pop.  He clicked it again -- the next lamp flickered into
darkness. Each time the light was seemingly sucked out of the lamp into the
vibrator which made it glimmer and vibrate more vigorously.  Twelve times
he clicked the Poot-Oscillator, until the only lights left on the whole
street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the
cat watching him.  If anyone looked out of their window now, even
beady-eyed Mrs. Droolsley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was
happening down on the pavement.  Dribbledong slipped the violently-shaking
Poot-Oscillator up his ass and set off down the street toward number four,
where he sat down on the wall next to the cat and began stroking his long,
bent cock.  He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

   "Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGulpitall."

   He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone.  Instead he was
smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses
exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes.  She,
too, was wearing a thong, an emerald one, but it was pulled aside and those
same outturned pussy lips glimmered like a pink flower in the night.  Her
black hair was drawn into a tight bun.  She looked distinctly ruffled.

   "How did you know it was me?" she asked, lifting her feet up so her
skinny legs were bent and her delicious pussy was poised on the edge of the
wall.

   "My dear Professor, I would recognize those pussy lips anywhere.  Plus,
I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

   "You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said
Professor McGulpitall.  She eyed his growing shlong and added her skinny
fingers to help him stroke.  "Let's see if we can't get you stiff right
now."

   "All day?  When you could have been copulating?  I must have passed a
dozen feasts and orgies on my way here." He reached over and gave her
sopping wet lips a stroke with his finger.  He lifted his sticky finger up
to her face and smiled, "This would surely have been in high demand at any
celebration."

   Professor McGulpitall sniffed angrily, then gave in and slurped her own
juices from his fingertip.  McGulpitall could never resist fresh
secretions, especially her own.

   "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said, impatiently
ramming his hand back down to her pussy.  "You'd think they'd be a bit more
careful, but no -- even the Muffles have noticed something's going on.  It
was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Droolsleys' dark
living-room window since both hands were now busy yanking Dribbledong's
crooked cock to hardness.  "I heard it.  Flocks of owls...  raining
semen....  Well, they're not completely stupid.  They were bound to notice
something.  Raining cum down in Kunt -- I'll bet that was Deadass Dingle.
He never had much fucking sense."

   "You can't blame them," said Dribbledong, gently pulling her head down
to his now-throbbing cock.  "We've had precious little to celebrate for
eleven years." She slid her expert lips over his huge head and he sighed
contentedly as she slurped wetly on six inches of his enormous penis.

   "I know that," said Professor McGulpitall, irritably pausing from her
favorite pastime.  "But that's no reason to lose our heads.  People are
being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even
dressed in Muffle clothes, swapping bodily fluids."

   She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dribbledong here, as though hoping
he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she jerked his huge
cock with both hands and went on.  "A fine fucking thing it would be if, on
the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muffles
found out about us all.  I suppose he really has gone, Dribbledong?" She
tongued the clear juice oozing from his urethra and looked up at him
hopefully.

   "It certainly seems so," said Dribbledong, standing up so he could
properly fuck her throat.  "We have much to be thankful for.  Would you
care for a semen drop?"

   "A what?  You better be planning on giving me more than a drop." And
with that, she expertly slid her lips over his fat head and inhaled a good
10 inches of his massive dong.

   "A semen drop.  They're a kind of Muffle sweet I'm rather fond of." He
mumbled a few words and waved his fingers.  Suddenly McGulpitall squealed
and sat up straight.  She spread her legs further apart and held her cupped
palm beneath her fat vulva as sticky, white candies popped out of her
pussy. From the way her hand shook and her voice became shrill, it was
likely that he'd just given her a small orgasm.  She held the candies up to
him in a puddle of her pussy juice with a withering look.

   "No, thank you," said Professor McGulpitall coldly, as though she didn't
think this was the moment for semen drops.  "As I say, even if You-Know-Who
has gone-"

   "My dear Professor," Dribbledong said, reaching down to take the sticky
candies and pop them in his mouth.  "Surely a sensible person like yourself
can call him by his name?  All this 'You- Know-Who' nonsense -- for eleven
years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name:
Moldywort." Professor McGulpitall flinched, but Dribbledong, who was
slurping pussy juice from two semen drops, seemed not to notice and pushed
his fat cock down her throat again.  "It all gets so confusing if we keep
saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of
saying Moldywort's name.

   "I know you haven't," said Professor McGulpitall, sounding half
exasperated, half admiring.  "But you're different.  Everyone knows you're
the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Moldywort, was frightened of."
Mewling like a kitten, she jerked his fully hard cock and bent to slather
his huge balls with her tongue.

   "You flatter me," said Dribbledong calmly reaching down to push her
robes aside and play with her saggy little tits.  "Moldywort had powers I
will never have." McGulpitall hissed with pleasure and leaned back to
finger her sopping pussy as he thrilled her with nipple play.

   "Only because you're too -- well -- noble to use them." Belying her age,
she lifted her feet high, forming a V with her beautiful pussy at the apex.


   "It's lucky it's dark.  I haven't blushed so much since Madam Palmfury
told me she liked the way my cum tasted."

   Professor McGulpitall shot a sharp look at Dribbledong and said, "That
silly bitch!" She pulled him forward by his huge cock, obviously wanting
him to devote his attentions to her alone.  "The owls are nothing next to
the rumors that are flying around.  You know what everyone's saying?  About
why he's disappeared?  About what finally stopped him?"

   It seemed that Professor McGulpitall had reached the point she was most
anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard
wall all day licking herself.  For neither as a cat nor as a woman had she
fixed Dribbledong with such a piercing stare as she did now.  It was plain
that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until
Dribbledong told her it was true.  Dribbledong, however, was busy lining up
his fat head with her soaking pussy lips.

   "What they're saying," she pressed on, moaning as his fat head parted
her sweet lips and sank inside her creamy warmness, "is that last night
Moldywort turned up in Goodick's Hollow.  He went to find the Peeters.  The
rumor is that Loli and Jism Peeter are -- are -- that they've - been
fucked to death.  "

   Dribbledong bowed his head, even as his long cock sank further into her
fiery depths.  Professor McGulpitall gasped and grabbed handfuls of his
robes to hang on.

   "Loli and Jism...  I can't believe it...  I didn't want to believe
it... Oh, Anus..." She wrapped her legs around him as his huge penis
continued to disappear inside her splayed pink flower.

   Dribbledong reached out and traced her panting lips with his sticky
finger.  "I know...  I know..." he said heavily, pushing more.  Pushing
until his entire cock was firmly buried in her gushing wet pussy.

   Professor McGulpitall's voice trembled as she went on.  "That's not all.
They're saying he tried to rape the Peeter's son, Hairy.  But -- he
couldn't.  He couldn't rape that little boy.  No one knows why, or how, but
they're saying that when he couldn't rape Hairy Peeter, Moldywort's cock
power somehow broke -- and that's why he's gone."

   Dribbledong nodded glumly, even as his scrawny ass cheeks clenched and
he made his bent cock lurch inside her pussy.

   "It's -- it's true?" faltered Professor McGulpitall, grinding her hips
around, needing to be fucked.  "After all he's done...  all the people he's
sodomized...  he couldn't ass fuck a little boy?  It's just astounding...
of all the things to stop him...  but how in the name of humping asses did
Hairy survive?"

   "We can only guess," said Dribbledong.  "We may never know." And then he
pulled back and began to give her his cock the way she always wanted it.

   Professor McGulpitall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her
eyes beneath her spectacles, even as she lifted her lithe hips to meet his
long thrusts.  Dribbledong gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch
from his pocket and examined it.  It was a very odd watch.  It had twelve
stylized penis hands but no numbers; instead, little genitalia were moving
around the edge.  It must have made sense to Dribbledong, though, because
he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hogrod's late.  I suppose it was he
who told you I'd be here, by the way?"  

   "Yes," Professor McGulpitall moaned in ecstasy as his huge cock slid in
and out of her pussy.  "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why
you're here, of all places?"

   "I've come to bring Hairy to his aunt and uncle.  They're the only
family he has left now." He returned to twisting her sensitive nipples as
he lunged into her sopping cunt.

   "You don't mean -- you can't mean the people who live here?" cried
Professor McGulpitall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. 
"Dribbledong -- you can't.  I've been watching them all day.  You couldn't
find two people who are less like us.  And they've got this son -- I saw
him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for a blowjob.
Hairy Peeter come and live here!"

   Dribbledong calmly turned her around, bent her over the wall, lifted her
robes and began to fuck her from behind.  "It's the best place for him,"
said Dribbledong firmly squeezing and caressing her surprisingly beautiful
ass.  "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when
he's older.  I've written them a letter."

   "A letter?" repeated Professor McGulpitall faintly, clawing the wall and
arching her back as he fucked her silly.  "Really, Dribbledong, you think
you can explain all this in a letter?  These people will never understand
him!  He'll be famous -- a legend -- I wouldn't be surprised if today was
known as Hairy Peeter day in the future -- there will be porno movies made
about Hairy -- every child in our world will want to do him!"

   "Exactly," said Dribbledong, looking very seriously over the top of his
half-moon glasses.  As if to emphasize, he began to give her tight ass
cheeks quick, sharp smacks as he balled her furiously.  "It would be enough
to turn any boy's head.  Famous before he can walk and talk!  Famous for
something he won't even remember!  Can't you see how much better off he'll
be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"

   Professor McGulpitall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and
then said, "Yes -- yes, you're right, of course.  But how is the boy
getting here, Dribbledong?" She turned back and eyed his big cock
repeatedly disappearing inside her, as if she was afraid they might not
have time to finish.  She was so close...

   "Hogrod's bringing him." Dribbledong pulled her ass cheeks apart so he
could watch her pretty wrinkled anus pulse as he shoved his fat cock up her
over and over.

   "You think it -- wise -- to trust Hogrod with something as important as
this?" she panted, feeling her orgasm rising inside her as his cock
expanded and she knew he was ready to blow.

   "I would trust Hogrod with my life," said Dribbledong, loving the way
her tight ass wiggled each time he rammed into her.

   "I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor
McGulpitall haltingly.  She was cumming hard and just barely squeaked out,
"But you can't pretend he's not careless.  He does tend to -- what was
that?"

   A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them.  It grew
steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a
headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky -- and a
huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of
them. Which was probably a good thing since this was also the moment that
Dribbledong's huge penis began to lurch, pumping huge fountains of thick,
creamy cum into McGulpitall's quivering pussy.  She pinched her nipples and
wailed like a whore.  Meanwhile, Dribbledong was gripping her ass cheeks in
strong fingers, lunging into her with each torrent that exploded from his
cock.  He too threw his head back and wailed in a deep, cracking voice as a
massive orgasm burned through him.  Torrents of hot milky cum poured out of
McGulpitall's fat, pink lips and each thrust pushed out more.  It ran down
the wall all bubbly and chunky, pooling in the dirt.

   If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the cock of the man
sitting astride it.  He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at
least five times as wide.  He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so
wild - long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, but
nothing could hide the gigantic penis and balls between his legs.  He had
hands the size of trash can lids, and his testicles in their leather thong
were like bowling balls.  In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a
bundle of blankets.

   "Hogrod," said Dribbledong, sounding relieved.  "At last.  And where did
you get that motorcycle?" Dribbledong looked down, eyes alight, watching
his huge cum coated cock slide in and out of McGulpitall's fat pussy lips.
The sound of cum pattering on the ground with each in and out stroke was
like music to his ears.  The only thing more beautiful would have been the
sound of excess cum pattering into an open mouth below him.

   "Borrowed it, Professor Dribbledong, sir," said the giant, climbing
carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke, his giant cock flopping around.
"Young Spurious Blank lent it to me for an assfucking.  I've got him, sir."

   "No problems, were there?" Dribbledong pulled his messy cock out of
McGulpitall's cunt and used his fat head to scoop up cream that was still
oozing from inside her.  He pushed it up through her fat lips repeatedly
and let it spill over onto her tiny belly.  She cooed and bore down to push
out more and more.  Then she bent her body impossibly and began to lap up
his hot cream from her tummy with her tongue.

   "No, sir -- house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right
before the Muffles started swarmin' around.  He fell asleep as we was
flyin' over Pisstol." Hogrod stood over them with an interested look. 
McGulpitall looked up to see his giant testicals and cock dangling over her
head.  When his cock twitched, she cried out and jumped, almost falling off
the wall.

   Hogrod extended his hand down between them to show them what he carried.
Dribbledong and Professor McGulpitall bent forward over the bundle of
blankets.  Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep.  Under a tuft
of jet-black pubic hair that concealed his little penis they could see a
curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning that ran down the top of his
cock and ended just above his peehole.

   "Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGulpitall, gently running a
nail down his little penis.

   "Yes," said Dribbledong.  "He'll have that scar forever." He was now
sliding his wet cock all over McGulpitall's tummy full of cum.

   "Couldn't you do something about it, Dribbledong?" And as if to
emphasize her request, she bent forward, stretched her thin lips and slid
his huge bent cock down her throat.

   "Even if I could, I wouldn't.  Scars can come in handy.  I have one
myself on my left testical that is a perfect map of the Longdong Underground.
Well -- give him here, Hogrod -- we'd better get this over with."

   Dribbledong took Hairy in his arms and turned toward the Droolsleys'
house.  His huge cock popped out of McGulpitall's mouth and she raised her
eyebrows as if to say, "Well fine then..."

   "Could I -- could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hogrod, giant hands
nervously fondling his own massive balls.  He bent his great, shaggy head
over Hairy and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss,
slurping his tiny genitals into his giant mouth.  Then, suddenly, Hogrod
let out a howl like a wounded dog and stood upright, his gigantic cock
sticking straight out now, a large dollop of clear liquid poised at his
enormous hole.

   "Shhh!" hissed Professor McGulpitall, "you'll wake the fucking Muffles!"
With a few muttered incantations, she leapt forward and her jaws stretched
impossibly to take Hogrod's cantaloupe-sized head into her mouth.  The
shaft was the size of a man's thigh and all 2.5 feet of his vein-covered
length throbbed and lurched.  Eyes wide, her mouth continued to stretch and
Hogrod's cock slowly disappeared bulging her throat outward until she
looked like a bullfrog with a witch's hat on.

   "S-s-sorry," sobbed Hogrod, taking out a large, cum-stained handkerchief
and burying his face in it.  McGulpitall slid her maw up and down the last
12" of his monster meat and Dribbledong felt his old bent cock stirring
again.  "But I c-c-can't stand it -- Loli an' Jism raped dead -- an' poor
little Hairy off ter live with Muffles-"

   "Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a fucking grip, Hogrod, or we're
fucked," Professor McGulpitall paused to whisper.  Streamers of spit
connected her now-normal-sized lips to his glistening sausage.  She fondled
Hogrod's huge balls gingerly and resumed her blowjob as Dribbledong stepped
over behind Hogrod.  He bent over with one hand on one knee and used the
other to catch the Poot-Oscillator as he pushed it out of his ass.  Then he
pushed Hogrod's huge coat out of the way, snapped his thong out of the
crack in his hairy ass and shoved the Poot-Oscillator home.  "There.  This
will make you cum buckets."

   McGulpitall was really hitting her stride as Dribbledong stepped over
the low garden wall and walked to the front door.  He laid Hairy gently on
the doorstep, fondled his genitals for a bit, took a letter out of his
cloak, tucked it inside Hairy's blankets, and then came back to the other
two.

   Hogrod was holding McGulpitall's head in his huge hands and ramming his
giant cock down her expanded throat.  She held onto his huge hairy balls
for dear life until the giant man sighed and came.  His huge cock began to
lurch, lifting McGulpitall off the ground.  For a full minute the three of
them were frozen watching him squirt gallons of cum down her throat;
Hogrod's legs shook, Professor McGulpitall blinked furiously, and the
twinkling light that usually shone from Dribbledong's eyes seemed to flare
with brilliance.  Hot, thick, white sperm erupted from McGulpitall's nose
and exploded around his cock.  "Oh, Professor!" Hogrod moaned.  "I've
always wanted to do that." Choking, McGulpitall ripped herself out of his
grip and Dribbledong cooed as the last vestiges of Hogrod's ejaculation
spilled and spurted out of his huge dick leaving McGulpitall plastered with
pearlescent goo from head to toe.

   "Well," said Dribbledong finally, "that's that.  We've no business
staying here.  We may as well go and join an orgy." He deftly reached
around, pulled Hogrod's huge ass cheeks apart and recovered his
Poot-Oscillator.

   "Yeah," said Hogrod slinging the last dollops of cum at her, "I'll be
takin' Spurious his bike back.  G'night, Professor McGulpitall -- Professor
Dribbledong, sir." Hogrod took his handkerchief and wiped goo out of her
eyes, then turned and walked away.

   Wiping his sticky, dribbling cock on his jacket sleeve, Hogrod swung
himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it
rose into the air and off into the night.

   "I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGulpitall," said
Dribbledong, nodding to her.  Professor McGulpitall knelt with her huge maw
still filled with goo.  Streamers of thick cum connected her top and bottom
lips and spilled out of the side of her mouth.  She bulged her giant cheeks
and swallowed loudly in reply.  The look on her face when it returned to
normal was total shock.

   Dribbledong turned and walked back down the street.  On the corner he
stopped and took out the silver Poot-Oscillator.  He clicked it once, and
twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Pervert Drive
glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat-every bit of its
fur matted with goo-slinking around the corner at the other end of the
street.  He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number
four.

   "Good luck, Hairy," he murmured.  He turned on his heel and with a swish
of his cloak, he was gone.

   A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Pervert Drive, which lay silent and
tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing
things to happen.  Hairy Peeter rolled over inside his blankets without
waking up.  One small hand closed on his penis and he slept on, not knowing
he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in
a few hours' time by Mrs.  Droolsley's scream as she opened the front door
to put out the milk bottles and blow the milkman, nor that he would spend
the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Didley...  He
couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over
the country were pausing in the love-making and saying in hushed voices:
"To Hairy Peeter -- the boy who didn't get bunged to death!"