Warning: This story is unsuitable for minors and contains
explicit descriptions of sexual activity considered taboo (and
illegal) in most (if not all) jurisdictions. If such activity
offends you, please DO NOT read any further. I do not condone any
illegal activity and stress that this work is fiction, fantasy,
and in no way meant to reflect reality. Sexual abuse of minors is
a very serious issue and I encourage anyone tempted to engage in
such behavior to seek help immediately.

Title: Chapter Three: Grade School Discovery (SciFi, Bondage,
Tentacles, b) 
Date of Latest Update to This Story: 3/28/17

Dear Reader: Thank you for taking the time to read my work. If
you wish to drop me a line, feel free. My email address is
(CreepingDawn@protonmail.com) and I look forward to hearing from
you. Additionally, proofreading is not one of my better skills so
if you find errors you believe impact the story's readability,
please let me know. Offers to proofread will be welcomed with
open arms.

This story is broken up into chapters. As such, the order you
should consider reading it is:

Chapter 1 
Memory Interlude 1 
Chapter 2 
Chapter 3 
Chapter 4 
Memory Interlude 2 
Chapter 5 
Chapter 6 
Chapter 7 
Concerning the Privileged Life of Cameron Seymour Riley III 
Memory Interlude 3
Chapter 8 
Epilogue

Without further adieu...

.........................

"Art time is great" thought Matt Arroba. He loved the colors and
the paper and the way he had to concentrate really hard to make
sure the project he was working on was perfect. Sometimes, when
it was really good, Ms. Arnett would give him a gold star and his
mom would even put it on the windowsill for the neighbors to see!
At first, he didn't think he'd like first-grade because he
wouldn't get to do as much art as he did in Kindergarten and
would have to have more difficult classes. But now that he was an
"old pro" as his dad would say, he found that he enjoyed the
reading classes and the mathematics; though he was grateful that
Ms. Arnett still let her first graders do lots of fun art
projects too.

"Speaking of the Ms. Arnett..." Matt thought to himself. "Where
is she?" Looking around for the first time in quite a while, Matt
realized that Ms. Arnett and all the girls were gone. It was
weird because he could have sworn they were here a minute ago.
Before he could ask the question though, Daniel Parsons stood up
and asked loudly "Hey! Where is everybody?" "I don't know,"
responded David Burelle, "I think they left."

With that, the class broke into fragmented conversations which
all revolved around asking each other where their teacher and
female classmates had gone. As everyone had been deeply involved
in the art project, none had really paid attention to what was
going on in the room. For the six and seven-year-olds, this was a
unique occurrence. Sometimes, they knew, Ms. Arnett would leave
the room but she always had one of the nice ladies from the front
office come in and watch them when she did. And she never left
with all the girls. Now, the boys glanced around nervously,
unsure of what was going on.

"Um.... Should we go look for them?" asked Jonathon Carroll aloud
for the third time, hoping that someone would volunteer. He'd go
himself, but really didn't want to. "Geez Johnny, shut up!"
hissed Jamie Washington, the boy aggravated that Johnny was so
annoying and his own nerves getting the better of him. "You shut
up!" responded Jonathon, now pissed at the other boy. "No, stop
being a whiny baby!" resorted Jamie. "Only if you quit being a
jerk!" responded Jonathon, not one to back down when challenged.

With no teacher to stop the budding argument, the two
seven-year-olds prepared themselves for a long match of insults.
Before it could get out of hand, however, each boy in the first
grade class froze as they were suddenly overcome with strange and
powerful feelings. Light headed, the boys spaced out for a
moment, completely forgetting their concerns and their arguments.
When their minds finally became their own, none felt as nervous
about the absences of Ms. Arnett or the girls as they had only a
moment before. In fact, they felt excited and twitchy and full of
energy. Their skin tingled. They got goosebumps. They started to
perspire a little bit.

Suddenly unable to sit still, all the kids hopped up out of their
group tables and began to dance in place, hoping that doing so
would bring some relief to the new feelings coursing through
their bodies. "I don't feel good" Jaylen Smith said as Ryan
Malone announced, "I feel funny." Cries of "me neither" and "me
too" and "I feel weird" echoed throughout the classroom as the
eighteen first-graders looked hopefully at each other for some
answer to their current predicament. Then, almost as one, each
boy froze as all his attention left his classmates and focused
entirely on his genitals.

Every single one of the boys found themselves with little woodies
as their blood rushed into their immature members. Not an
entirely new experience, as many of the boys had experienced
erections before, this time felt different. There was some sort
of strange heat coming from their tented pants and, as that heat
turned into an itch, each boy felt like a spring was coiling
tighter and tighter inside himself.

For several minutes, the children stayed quietly absorbed in
their own bodily functions, bouncing from foot to foot and
looking at their pelvic regions as if they might understand what
was going on if they stared long enough. A lusty haze overcame
them, making it harder to think about anything but their itchy
demanding little cocks. Quite suddenly, the door swung open and
the windows all rose - filling the quiet room with a loud and
obvious "bang." The six and seven-year-olds all jumped and
immediately turned to the front of the classroom, expecting to
see Ms. Arnett standing there like a beacon of hope. For of
course, Ms. Arnett could explain what was going on!

Instead, there were these things there. They looked like snakes
or, as Grant Freedman thought to himself, like the kind of
tentacles he'd seen on the jellyfish pictures his dad had shown
him last night. For a long moment, the first-graders stood
stock-still and starred at the motionless apparitions. Then,
without a thought, Matt Arroba, always one to be outgoing, walked
slowly and cautiously to the door with his tiny erection
throbbing the entire way. As he approached, the tentacles there
seemed to focus on him and regard him with curiosity. Reaching
his destination, Matt stood up as straight as he could (all of
3'10''), shifted his shoulders and weight (an imposing fifty-two
pounds), and confidently asked, "What are you?"

Unfortunately for Matt, those words broke the silence and the
tentacles entered the room with purpose. Unlike what was going on
in most of the rest of the area, the tentacles proceeded slowly
and soon had surrounded the boys; unhurriedly wrapping them up
and lifting them throughout the room. The creature, aware that
these were some of the youngest prey it was going to feast on and
that they were years away from their sexual maturation, wanted to
be extra careful and extra sensitive with their delicate bodies
and undeveloped minds. It didn't want to hurt them and it knew
that the feelings they would be experiencing soon, indeed that
they were already experiencing but were too young to understand,
were going to confuse and frighten them. Therefore, it would be
extra cautious with them so as not to do any harm. Oh, it was
still going to rape them to peak after peak after peak, fucking
their tiny bodies with abandon and relishing in their pleasure,
but it would do so sensibly and, the creature affirmed to itself,
lovingly.

The children were stupefied. Though used to utilizing their
imaginations constantly, what was happening now was well outside
their experiences, both real and imaginary. Met with such strange
and unique circumstances and with their bodies still emitting
strange and wonderful feelings, none of the boys had the presence
of mind to so much as struggle as the tentacles casually bound
them and moved them like marionettes. Then the tentacles began
their fun.

Sliding Prodders down pants and up shirts, into socks, shoes, and
underwear, the tentacles carefully began to shred the clothing
and reveal to the world eighteen naked, horny, cherubic boys.
"Hey" whispered Liam Tressalm, hazily aware that his favorite
pair of pants had just been torn in half despite the intense
feelings between his legs, "that's my favorite. Stop it."
Heedless of Liam's half mumbled order, the creature soon
completed his task and the six and seven-year-olds of Ms.
Arnett's class found themselves naked as babes, floating in a sea
of tentacles and strange funny feelings.

"Sammy" little Marcus Casey announced, shock making him lucid for
a moment as he found himself turned face to face with his best
friend Sam Johnson. With only two feet between the boys, Marcus's
attention was immediately on the fact that his best pal was naked
- an occurrence Marcus had never seen before despite knowing the
other boy forever. "You're naked!?" he stated, a bit of a
question in his voice. Sammy flushed red with embarrassment (or
somewhat more red as all the children were slightly flushed with
their arousal), acutely aware of his nudity and mortified beyond
belief. An obsessively modest boy, he despised being seen naked
by anyone, his own mom and dad included.

Before poor Sammy could respond, however, the tentacles darted
forward and began their pleasurable assault on the boys. Arms,
legs, feet, hands, tummies, backs, shoulders, necks, ears,
cheeks, chins, and noses were massaged, stroked, fondled, and
teased. Moans sprang up around the classroom as the floodgates
were opened and the children were subjected to new intense and
unexpected pleasure. Though all erogenous zones (genitals,
anuses, nipples, and mouths) were avoided, the children felt
their need increase tenfold. The little boy-boners that had been
hard became achingly ridged. Lost in this new sensation and with
no way to comprehend what they were feeling, the boys threw their
heads back and began to howl in frustrated bliss.

Carlos Esparanza, his body betraying him, began to feel
something, some power, coalescing in his guts. The things rubbing
his armpits and legs felt unnaturally wonderful and seemed to be
sending some sort of magic through his limbs, feeding the growing
ball of power in his lower tummy. Instantly, that ball of power
dropped lower, into his private parts, and he felt that all the
energy in the universe was traveling through him to destinations
unknown. Carlos climaxed. "Ah!" he screamed loudly as his body
thrashed and jerked, his little boycock twitching rapidly and his
immature prostate screaming in confusion. "Help! Help! Ahhhhh!"
he shrieked, the pleasure of orgasm being met for the first time
and his six-year-old mind unable to understand.

Across the room, seven-year-old Grayson Hall was hitting his own
climax at the same time. His body lurched and twisted, his face
frozen in a silent scream as the pleasure overwhelmed his little
pricklett and mind. Several feet from him, Nathan Yorkstern began
to cry, not from pain or sadness but because his little woody was
sending such powerful feelings through him and crying seemed the
only way to express his sheer and unbridled joy.

For what seemed like an eternity, the boys climaxed, their moans
and screams and pleadings for help falling on deaf ears.
Collectively, it was their first orgasm. As the seconds ticked
by, though, and the feelings began to fade, the children, some of
whom followed Nathan into tears and some of whom followed Grayson
into stunned silence, began to collect themselves. Infants only a
few short years earlier, their instincts from that age kicked in
and they slowly began to self-sooth. It helped, of course, that
the tentacles had retreated for a time.

As the minutes past, the children began to calm down and evaluate
their situation. "What was that?" asked Freddy Corvalas, unable,
because of the way the tentacles held him, to look at his tiny
woody that had seemed to be the epicenter of the strange feelings
moments earlier. Instead and as a substitute, he began to closely
scrutinize the cock of the boy next to him, Julian Texmara. "I
don't know," replied Dennis Hopper close by, his little member
finally soft. "Something bad?" he questioned, hoping someone in
his class could explain what he felt. "No," replied Jeremiah Lux
from across the room, "Something good. It felt funny, but felt
good." That assertion seemed to relax the class further, all
worrying to some extent that what they had felt had been
something bad.

Soon, the sex and seven-year-olds were talking in groups. Some
continued to speculate as to their orgasms, their analysis
rudimentary due to their age and inexperience. Yet despite this,
several mothers and fathers would have been proud because their
first-graders were doing an admirable job of theorizing,
reasoning, and articulating their theories. A couple of the boys
were giggling at their nude classmates or trying, without
success, to cover up their own nakedness. A few more spent the
down time trying to untangle themselves from the embrace of the
tentacles. None were prepared for the second wave of arousal when
it hit.

"Oh no! Oh no!" squealed Tyler Jamison, the little six-year-old's
cocklett becoming ridged again as the familiar but unnamed
emotion, years later understood to be lust, swept through his
immature body. "It's happening again!" pleaded Jesse Marano to
the crowd, desperate at first for someone to do something and
desperate moments later to get off again. Quickly, the room was
filled with cries of confusion and moans of excitement. Without
warning, the Prodders attacked again, resuming their previous
positions across each body with the addition of three new and
strategically placed Suckers; one sliding into the mouth of each
child and latching onto their tongue in a perverse imitation of a
French kiss while the other two sought out, fastened onto, and
began to tease and torture each child's vulnerable nipples. With
this new and very sexual pleasure, each child's libido was kicked
into overdrive and they immediately found themselves writhing and
seizing in the tentacles grasp. Moans became yells. Yells became
shrieks. Shrieks became screams as child after child soon
climaxed brutally, pushed over the edge by the relentless assault
on their bodies and, most especially, on their taunt little
titties.

By this point, the creature's venom had done wonders to the
little boys' testicles and, as each boy came for the second time
in his life, his little prostate contracted and a few small jets
of clear semen erupted from his otherwise totally immature
genitalia. These weren't the geysers seen across the yard in the
high school, but each boy did contain and fire off enough spunk
to get some on himself and his neighbors.

Eventually, after the tentacles had retreated and the boy's
collective orgasms had subsided, they began to focus on what they
perceived to be the two most glaring points of contention that
needed to be discussed. First, did they all just pee on one
another? (A debate that lasted several minutes and contained a
lot of "Did not" and "did too" type arguments) Second, and
surprisingly intuitive, was whether this thing was going to
happen again. Indeed, when Matt Arroba first broke through the
"pee" argument and asked "Are we finished, or are we going to go
again?" each child paused to let the possibilities sink in. Not
having any pre-conceived notions about sex and thus no frame of
reference to tell them otherwise, it was soon decided after brief
debate that yes, this thing was going to happen again. For
several kids, the conclusion was based on the fear that they were
trapped. For others, their support came because they kind of
enjoyed the strange and overwhelming feelings. For the rest, herd
mentality felt comfortable and once some of their classmates
began to concede that this business was not finished, they
quickly voiced their support for that train of thought.

Just as the class seemed satisfied with their logical assumptions
and began to steer the conversation towards the "so what do we do
then?" step, their reprieve was over. Arousal and tentacles hit
en mass and William Jespin, who was in the middle of a sentence,
found himself unable to continue as a rather rude Sucker shoved
its way into his mouth and began to suck persistently on his
tongue. Not that William was complaining, mind you, because at
that moment, his little cocklett had sprung to attention and was
alight with passion, causing him to moan loudly. Very soon, puffy
nipples were being teased, mouths were being violated, and arms,
legs, backs, shoulders, toes, fingers, and tummies were being
rubbed and petted. Additionally, the tentacles began to slowly
and carefully pry each boy's legs apart so that their sex was
obscenely on display.

Tiny Prodders and Suckers coiled around hips of each boy and
momentarily appraised virgin cockletts. Then, as one, they began
to descend. Boys throughout the room were immediately jerked out
of their pleasurable haze by the most intense feelings of their
lives. Suckers slipped tightly over the hoods of boycocks and
slithered down to the base while Prodders began to fondle each
pair of boyballs. Then, without warning, the inside of each
Sucker began to slide up and down their tiny poles, stroking them
smoothly and quickly.

For seven-year-old Derrick Smith, it was an absolute shock. Sure,
he'd felt his legs open slightly while his tongue was wrestling
with the thing in his mouth and those delicious things on this
chest were torturously teasing his nipples. But at the moment,
he'd thought nothing of it. Then, all of a sudden, warmth and
tightness and slipperiness enveloped his hard boyhood and began
to descend on it. At the same time, warm wet things began to rub
vigorously his little scrotum and its precious cargo. When the
thing finally seemed to be on his penis entirely, Derrick was
jolted by a second shock as something inside it began to move up
and down his rigid pole incredibly fast, sending bursts of
lighting to his brain and leaving him utterly and totally dumb
while living in a world made up completely of pleasure.

Six-year-old Rory McNamara, his legs stretched apart and his hard
boyhood available for the entire world to see, had no idea what
was coming. Like Derrick and the rest of his class, he was
floating in the pleasure being generated by his sensitive
titties. Without warning, one of the things began to touch him
down there and, as the pleasure of the Sucker engulfing his stiff
sex, the first thought that passed through his head was a memory
of his mommy talking about good touches and bad touches. When the
sucker finally latched on, Rory's mind screamed "Bad Touch!"
However, a heartbeat later, as the Sucker began to masturbate him
furiously, his internal commentary changed to "Good Touch! Good
Touch! Good Touch!" before his mind shut off completely and he
swam in a sea of bliss.

Sensing climax approaching in its prey, the creature redoubled
the efforts of its Prodders and Suckers. Within seconds, the
Prodders gently stroking boyballs began to rub furiously while
the Suckers on the tiny boycocks began flying from base to tip
and back at near imperceptible speed. Then, just as each child as
about to cum for the third time in their lives, the Suckers
molesting each boy sent a tiny Prodder deep down into his
urethra. This intense shock, combined with the pleasure emanating
in genitals and nipples, sent each boy past the point of no
return. Screams were torn from throats as climaxes hit. With the
assistance of the Suckers, the boys spunk, now thick and creamy
and plentiful thanks to the creature's venom, flooded into all
the glassy-eyed children's mouths and they swallowed it as
greedily as they had swallowed their mothers milk only a few
years earlier. Boys thrashed about in ecstasy, trying desperately
to dislodge the offending tentacles but unable to escape the
powerful crushing pleasure.

Unfortunately for the worn and weary children, their post-orgasm
reprieve was outrageously short. Only a minute after their latest
climax seemed to subside and just as some of them began to think
coherently, the mass arousal hit again like a tidal wave. For
each and every one of them, it had seemed that they had just
finished cumming when the tentacles, which had not left their
body this time, began to speed up. Cries of anguish quickly
became cries of lust as the boys, able, as children are, to
adjust to situations better than adults, quickly capitulated to
the onslaught of sexual assault and accepted that their tiny
bodies desperately needed to be pleasured so as to calm the
raging inferno of arousal that seemed their now constant
companion.

Shortly after their seventh climax of the day, the boy's got the
surprise of a lifetime as their legs were spread even further and
their tiny boyholes were put on display. Marty Halsom, the
seven-year-olds eyes locked on Derrick Smith's backside only a
few short feet from him, watched in horror as another one of the
things began to creep across his buddy's butt. Though they
appeared huge, the Prodders now seeking virgin assholes were in
fact very thin and slick so as to cause no discomfort when
entering their chosen victim. Feeling one traveling across his
own cute tushy, he was about to cry out a warning when the
Prodder on his rear found his tiny quivering hole and gave it a
quick and friendly "hello." Marty squeaked, as did every other
boy in the room. Suddenly, all the other Prodders and Suckers,
having slowed down their own ministrations while the children
rested, began to pick up speed. Marty moaned, his tiny half-hard
cocklett springing to life and rigidity. At the same time, the
Prodder at his hole gave a solid push and, despite Marty's best
efforts, forced its way past his clenched bottom and began to
slither up his boypussy. Marty was not alone. Within moments,
every boy in the room had a Prodder embedded deep in his ass -
his once virgin boypussy now wrapped tightly around the Prodder
that was gently beginning to fuck him. And boy did it feel great!
The long and graceful strokes of the Prodder sliding in and out
of his ass sent waves of joy up each boy's spinal column and deep
into his brain. Each boy felt the pleasure in his boycock merge
with the new pleasure in his boypussy and his mind found bliss.

The room was alive with the near constant moans of arousal and
the "slap slap slap" of Prodders fucking assholes vigorously.
With the intense pleasure in their genitals, asses, nipples,
tongues, and seemingly everything else, the children quickly and
efficiently were driven to their eighth orgasm of the day. Right
before their loads were released, the tentacles holding the boys
all shifted slightly and each boy found the angle of the Prodder
relentlessly fucking him had changed so that his immature
prostate was directly in its path. Ruthlessly, the Prodders sped
up, brutally pounding each boys defenseless prostate. While the
boy's had all wailed and writhed in pleasure during their
previous orgasms, those reactions were was nothing compared to
their reactions now.

Every boy in the room screamed loudly, the sound seemingly not
human in its intensity and pitch. They twisted and flailed and
writhed under the assault, trying desperately to end the
devastating pleasure that was drawing each and every one of them
toward madness. They climaxed once, twice, three times in a row
without recovery as the creature, lost in its own joyous
pleasure, sawed it's Prodders furiously over the boy's ravaged
prostates and its Suckers rapidly flew up and down their abused
little boycocks. The helpless boys continuously shot their load,
expelling so much cum that their balls were literally milked dry
and their final climax looked like it should for a boy their age:
completely dry. Sensing distress, the creature's awareness
resurfaced and, realizing that the bodies of all its prey were
making preparations to shut down, it quickly stopped its
offensive.

As the minutes ticked by and all the boys in Ms. Arnett's
first-grade class got a well-deserved rest, they began to quietly
discuss what was going on. Thanks to the venom being pumped
exhaustively into the room, none were terrified and most were
only slightly concerned. Still, while there was a certain desire
for this experience to be over, the children had started to
really enjoy the creature's manipulations and many of them
eagerly hoped for another round.

They got their wish. Some time later, as the six and
seven-year-old boys were again overcome with insatiable arousal
and the Prodders and Suckers began their work, the first-graders
felt contented to submit themselves to this new and wonderful
ride. Some, like Matt Arroba, even did so with a smile on their
face.

To be continued...