Pulchre Infans: An Infant Beautifully

Chapter 3
Chapters VI / VII

(() )( written by lola trechlyn / story by Otacon29 )( ())

()))( characters by lola trechlyn and Otacon29 )((()

VI ==--

But something was wrong.

The first thing Stephen noticed when he reopened his eyes was that the enormous mess he had assumed he made, the torrential streaks and pools of semen he expected to see lining his desk, dripping down his monitor, possibly even destroying the keyboard to his laptop forever-- gone. Nowhere to be seen. Not so much as one single solitary drop of pre-cum within arm’s length... or anyplace, for that matter.

How long have I been out?

So in shock was Stephen that it was only when he moved his eyes to check his computer clock did he realize that his laptop, too, had vanished like a ghost into the aether. There was no evidence of the $1,499 device Stephen had had welded to his hand for the past four years. Where he was sure it had been sitting, instead, was a writer’s blotter, a simple felt surface upon which a young man might handwrite his homework. Surrounding it was a plastic pencil tower, a Milwaukee Brewers souvenir baseball, a small stuffed frog, and a digital alarm clock reading 6:44 PM.

What the...

Stephen hadn’t lost any time. He knew he blew his wad in the neighborhood of 6:43, because he’d made a mental note of what the computer clock read when he pulled up his slideshow of sweeties. Now he felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach. He’d almost have preferred multiple hours had passed, multiple days; at least then he’d have a chance of getting a rational explanation.

Slowly, quietly, Stephen pushed the chair away from his desk. It was the same chair, same desk-- just with some old objects gone, and some new objects there. He resolved to get a hold of himself, and stood up with a newfound resolve.

What he saw made him reel backwards. He barreled across the backing of his chair and nearly sailed onto his ass before he scrambled and regained balance. Stephen checked again, but it was true: His outfit had changed. Completely.

Where once there had been designer blue jeans, there were now baggy, khaki cargo shorts. The expensive button-down shirt he had worn especially to kick off his spring break on a classy note was now just a t-shirt... a Konami t-shirt. And the rugged, comfortable sneakers to which he had become accustomed to seeing every day had become...

...exactly the brand of sneakers I wore in high school.

The entire outfit was comprised of items he had worn in high school. But these-- these couldn’t have been them. Stephen knew he had the exact same body he occupied before his orgasm. He was built identically, his proportions precisely as he remembered them... same height, same waistline, same size of shoe. If Stephen had actually attempted to wear these items of clothing today -- clothes he vividly recalled as matching the style he explored freshman year of high school -- his t-shirt would appear veritably painted onto his body, strangulating every muscle and inch of skin, the seams of its armpits split apart. No. These were definitely the clothes he wore when he was 14. But they had been made for his current, nearly-22-year-old body. Somehow.

“Steeepheeen!” It was a female voice, calling from downstairs. “Are you ever coming back down?”

It was Marissa! She was still here!

Wait... what am I saying!? It’s still... now!

Stephen swallowed the lump in his throat and shouted back. “I’m on my way!” He flung open his bedroom door, flew through the hallway, and bounded furiously down the stairway until he reached the landing.

Marissa was still on the couch, sitting in the same position, smiling her same smile. But the living room had changed in other ways. The television had gone from a sleek widescreen wall-mount to a clunky, hundred-pound CRT dumped unceremoniously atop a cheap TV stand. In the corner was a solid oak computer desk; it supported a massive desktop tower, a 4:3 CRT monitor, and a calendar... which was turned to March 2011.

This... is fucked.

“Aww,” Marissa playfully whined from the couch, “why isn’t my permanent little boy sucking his thumb?”

“I... don’t know,” Stephen replied weakly. He pushed his thumb into his mouth and began to nurse from it, already feeling a little calmer, against odds.

To his frustration, the sensation of his warm, wet mouth surrounding the fleshy roundness of his thumb sent the usual signal to his cock, which twitched once in recognition and twice in gratitude. Stephen was horrified. He had just gone out of his way to shoot his load so he could enjoy the rest of his night, and already he felt he could go for seconds. In fact, if he didn’t know any better, he was even hornier than before!

Marissa patted the couch cushion next to her. Stephen took his seat, his thumb never leaving his mouth. His young friend put her arm around his shoulder. The very confused young man leaned in her direction and rested the side of his head on hers for comfort.

“Mmm,” Marissa cooed. “Mommy thinks it’s so sexy when Baby sucks his thumb for her.”

Stephen jerked upward and shifted one body-length down the couch with lightning speed, as if Marissa had suddenly caught fire. He looked at her as if she had, too.

The girl’s expression changed instantly. She suddenly appeared quite quizzical.

“I’m sorry, Stephen?” she asked. “Did I say something wrong?”

“I-- I don’t know,” he stammered, pulling his thumb from his mouth. “What did you say?”

“I said I think it’s sexy when you suck your thumb.”

Stephen shivered. “W-- wh-- sexy?”

Marissa rolled her eyes. “You know, sexy. A turn-on. Makes me hot. Sexy.”

“N--no, Marissa,” Stephen said, shaking his head. “You know I’ve always liked you, as a friend I mean, but this is inappropriate.”

“Inappropriate?”

“Yes, inappropriate! I-- I mean, I’m flattered and all, but... I’ve babysat you since you were a toddler!”

Marissa stared stone-faced at Stephen. She blinked once. Then again.

And then she was laughing. Booming, uncontrollable peals of unadulterated glee. She shut her eyes and threw her arms around her belly, bending over on the couch as she struggled to catch her breath.

“What’s so funny?”

Marissa regained her composure long enough to communicate. “Oh, is-- is this some sort of new game? Some new role-play? ‘Cause if it is, that’s cool.”

“No, Marissa? Are you listening to me? I can’t babysit you and then turn around and date you. It’s twisted. I’ll be 22 tomorrow, and you’re fourteen.”

She was laughing again, a few belly-jerking chuckles here and there, and she shook her head at Stephen in amusement. “You want to role-play as older than you are this time?”

“What? What’s this role-play you keep talking about?”

“No, no, I’m not gonna judge. We can give it a try. It’s just... you always like to act younger around me.”

Stephen’s look of confusion transmuting into fear was genuine. “How old do you think I am? I mean, for real? No pretend?”

Marissa’s expression kept changing, like a Seraphim cycling through its four animal heads. This time, it was one of concern, and fleeting hope that Stephen was playing some sort of colossal joke.

“You’re 14, Stephen,” she said, drawing it out slowly, as if speaking to a mental patient. “You’re having a party for your 15th birthday tomorrow... remember?”

Stephen felt sick to his stomach.

It was all falling into place. His desk -- his bedroom -- was arranged as it had been when he was 14 years old; he didn’t have a laptop then. His clothes were the ones he wore when he was 14, but their 21-year-old’s fit perfectly suited his 21-year-old body. The TV in the living room, the computer-- both things he used all the time when he was 14, while objects to which he felt no attachment suffered no change.

But it was still March 2011. And Marissa saw him as 14, because that’s how old Stephen appeared to her. How, as far as he knew, he appeared to everyone. And how he had always appeared to Marissa: a peer of roughly the same age. The fact that he continued to see himself as 21 was irrelevant. To the rest of the world, he was Stephen Stone, adolescent boy... born not in 1989, but in 1996.

“...Right,” he stammered again, piecing it all together. “Right.”

Marissa nodded. “We’re still... boyfriend and girlfriend, right?”

She looked worried. But this supernatural bastardization of time and space hadn’t been her fault. She had a boyfriend, whom she apparently loved. It just happened to be Stephen. And when Marissa first arrived that evening, before any of this mess had started, she and Stephen shared a valuable relationship. Shouldn’t they still?

Besides, he thought, I can do enough worrying for the both of us.

“Of course,” Stephen said, nodding, developing a warm smile to reassure his girlfriend of his sincerity. “Of course. I love you, Marissa.”

VII ==--

This feels AMAZING.

Stephen and Marissa sat nestled together atop the center cushion. Marissa sat on the left; Stephen was so close to her right that their legs compressed flatly together. Her right arm was sandwiched between Stephen’s back and the couch’s back cushion. The girl used her left hand to gently massage her boyfriend’s chest.

When her warm hand goes under my t-shirt and touches my nipples directly... that’s already the first move that drives me wild about her.

Stephen didn’t feel self-conscious about his much taller and more adult body. He knew that what he saw and what Marissa saw were two wildly different things-- at present she was currently admiring, and exploring, the wiry, short, soft structure of a 14-year-old boy. Stephen knew that he was the party to the illusion of his body. Marissa had access to the real thing.

And Stephen was feeling more intimate with his new girlfriend than he had ever felt about her as her babysitter. He recognized that they were two very different kinds of intimacy, and he transitioned rather gracefully from caretaker to love interest. Stephen’s left arm was similarly sandwiched between Marissa’s slender back and the couch against which she leaned. His right arm held her midsection, stretching straight across, uninterrupted, her rising and falling chest just two short inches above.

Occasionally, they would whisper sweet nothings to each other, taking turns planting soft kisses upon one another’s skin. Stephen preferred to brush Marissa’s bangs away and put his lips to her temple, while she took to crooking her head horizontally between his chest and chin and laying lines of kisses along his throat and beneath his chin. This went on for some time, punctuated with gentle sighs of ecstasy and longing.

Marissa was the one to ultimately take charge. She knew what she wanted and Stephen was only too willing to let her take the lead. It began with her wordlessly folding Stephen’s left hand into a fist, its thumb sticking upward, which she would guide to her boyfriend’s lips. Within seconds she was treated to one sight which drove her wild-- her fit, masculine high school freshman, eyes closed and sucking his thumb like a baby. Stephen had little acting to do when it came to slipping into character, and, before long, he was moving his knees together and apart, together and apart... fidgety, as a toddler. By this point, there was little doubt in his mind: His previous ejaculation had accomplished absolutely nothing in terms of relieving him of lust or liquid, and, if anything, he was hornier than he could ever recall being in his life.

Eventually, Marissa had an impulse... and, as Stephen’s mother had vaguely warned her she was, Marissa was nothing if not impulsive. Before he knew what was happening, Marissa pulled his thumb from his mouth, maintaining the boy’s fist. A wire-thin line of saliva slowly stretched from Stephen’s bottom lip to the tip of his thumb as Marissa guided it away. Its center sagged with weight. Before it collapsed entirely, Marissa moved her lips to it and caught its lowest point on her tongue. For the first time ever, Marissa tasted Stephen’s fluids, and she liked it.

Stephen had no objections, either. The boy let out an uncontrollable moan as he first experienced the sensation of having his thumb sucked by another. Marissa nursed on her boyfriend’s already-soggy digit like a pro, managing to look equal parts seductress and infantilist in doing so.

I’m inside her body. ...Holy shit.

Stephen’s penis stirred to life beneath his khakis. He recalled, during this period of his life, being married to the support of briefs-- and while he felt constrained at present, his combination of tight briefs and loose cargo shorts could delay his telltale erection for at least a little while longer. A respectable injection of blood pumped into his cock every time he felt his thumb being pulled towards the back of Marissa’s mouth with her increasingly hungry sucking motions. She looked angelic doing it, but not so much that she appeared to Stephen to be anything less than the strongest, most emotionally- and socially-advanced girl he had ever known.

The boy slid the palm of his right hand a half-inch up the back of her shirt and paused. As she suckled, she opened her eyes to meet his and nodded her lustful approval. Stephen began massaging her lower back, radiating his hand in slow, concentric circles to cover a wider and wider area. So aroused by this touch was Marissa that she, never divorcing her mouth from Stephen’s thumb, rearranged her position. She ended up on his lap, facing him, straddling his legs and supporting herself on either side by kneeling on the couch cushion. He had to raise his arm to allow her to suck his thumb, but Stephen didn’t mind-- suddenly, her chest was in his face, bobbing up and down and towards him, as her jean-shortsed butt raised and lowered itself onto his lap again and again.

When his massage reached Marissa’s bra clasps, Stephen smoothly and expertly undid them. The girl gracefully removed her boyfriend’s thumb from her mouth, crossed both arms downward to grab the bottom of her shirt, and with a slow, enticing motion, she pulled the shirt up, up, revealing inch after inch of bare, flawless skin, finally pulling it up over her chest and removing it entirely. Her bra was still on, the back strap undone but her shoulder straps continuing to hold up the garment.

Stephen’s erection was complete and unrelenting, and Marissa was joyfully beginning to notice. She loved to give such pleasure to her man, to drive him to the very edge of insanity with her essence and then, finally, allow him to release his warmth wherever he sought. But she indeed also valued her own pleasure, and she was receiving just that as Stephen held her midsection gently on either side with his palms. He was kissing her torso-- sometimes combining his affections with a warm lick, sometimes not. Marissa squealed in surprise and pleasure as she felt the boy explore her navel with his snaky, loving tongue. She kept her hands on his head to anchor herself as Stephen made out with her midsection. Unable to wait any longer, the teenage boy reached up to liberate his lover from her bra entirely, taking each shoulder strap in either hand and sliding them down her arms. The bra fell off her gracefully-moving form, and Stephen was confronted with the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

She’s so beautiful... so perfect...

Two flawlessly spherical globes, entirely symmetrical and culminating in an upwards angle with a pert, round nipple, bobbed enticingly up and down in front of Stephen’s face. The boy wasted no time. Returning the palms of his hands to the sides of her midsection, he gently pushed his lips to Marissa’s right areola and slowly closed them together around her nipple. The flesh against his face vibrated as she let out a girlish moan. Stephen felt a thick stream of pre-cum -- whatever his briefs and khakis hadn’t already absorbed -- drip down the underside of his cock as he began to nurse from Marissa’s breast. The boy reflexively pumped his crotch upward as he sucked rhythmically on his girlfriend’s thick nipple, pushing his face, which had not yet received the facial hair of adolescence, into the soft, yielding flesh.

With a lustful howling sound she didn’t even realize herself capable of making, Marissa responded to the sensation of her little boy breastfeeding by sliding her right hand down the front of her jean-shorts and into her panties. Her touch was greeted by the warm wetness she’d been drooling ever since she first caught his saliva on the tip of her tongue. Marissa grinded her tit against Stephen’s mouth and began fingering herself. With her left hand and left breast free, she connected the two and began to massage and to squeeze, mimicking but not duplicating the loving care her boyfriend was so amply providing. Her breath grew deep and labored. She started exhaling with great noise, spewing gasped “HAA!”s out of her throat with increasing volume and regularity as she abused her clit with her fingertips.

Stephen gave one last suckle of Marissa’s tit as she tickled herself in just the right way. She flew into a screaming, wailing orgasm, thrashing against her overwhelmed but still-leaking boyfriend as he drove her to paroxysms of ecstasy to which she only feared she’d never be able to revisit.

In seconds, she had already slid down between Stephen’s spindly legs, her knees colliding with the carpet. She looked up and saw a magnificent 14-year-old boy sitting on the couch like a god upon his throne. His hair was matted down with sweat, his eyes were blinking weakly with the processing of all the sensory input he’d thus far received, and his chest was heaving up and down with relentless desire. Between his legs, a tent-- and a massive, saucer-sized stain, almost as if he had started wetting the bed and woke up five seconds into it, where his cock had been spending the last several minutes fucking the fabric of his briefs and leaking preparations for an orgasm for which even he wasn’t certain he was fully prepared.

Marissa resolved to help him find the answer. Using both hands to push his knees wide apart, she walked forward on her own knees until she couldn’t get any closer. Stephen had gathered enough volition to come to what was left of his senses and look down at her. Marissa grinned wickedly up at him, and he smiled weakly back, his dick giving a very visible twitch the moment their eyes met. His head slowly whirled around as if he’d just gotten punched across the face. She was going to straighten him out.

The young girl reached up, wrapped her fists tightly around both the waistband of his cargo shorts and that of his briefs, and jerked towards his knees. Both items of clothing came free. His five-inch cock sprung backward with its momentum, slapping against the belly of his t-shirt. Marissa wrestled off the boy’s shoes, then forcibly dragged his pants and underwear off of his body... tossing them away to be forgotten, leaving her unrestricted access to everything she’d ever wanted.

Marissa had to take a moment to admire what she saw. Two flawlessly hairless legs, slim but well-defined, leading up to a crotch sullied for her only by a dozen or so stray strands of downy pubic hair. The cock reaching out from it was strong and proud, as stiff and as veiny as it could manage to get at his age. His balls were completely hairless... and larger than she’d expected or had ever seen. The tableau came together as a visual symphony. A god upon his throne.

Stephen was an impressive specimen. Marissa was in love.

Oh my God...

Marissa pressed the tip of her tongue to the base of Stephen’s cock as hard as she could. Slowly, slowly, she dragged it up the underside of his shaft, causing him to whine and squirm in anticipation. When she got to the glans of his penis, she flitted her tongue out as she had learned a couple of years before, tickling the boy’s most sensitive areas and causing him to yell out in painful pleasure. Neither of them had ever needed anything as much as the both of them needed this right now.

The tip of Stephen’s penis had emitted another bead of pre-cum. She lapped it up, tasting an even more intimate fluid of his. And, with that as an adequate prologue, she wrapped her warm, silky mouth around the enlarged head of his penis and closed her lips at its circumference.

HO-LY SHIIII--

Stephen’s eyes snapped wide open and his neck went stiff as a board. The sensation of Marissa’s gentle warmth descending over his throbbing cock went above and beyond anything he’d ever felt by an order of magnitude. Stephen’s girlfriend sped up, moving up and down his shaft with an expert rhythm. The boy looked down at his crotch in disbelief. Marissa was taking all of his cock-- every last inch. And she was doing it every time she pounded him like a piston.

Another sensation. Marissa had one hand between Stephen’s legs. First, she was rubbing his inner thighs; then, she was massaging his balls. The teenager squirmed uncontrollably and was convinced he’d be violently thrashing were his girl not holding him in place with her mouth, her touch, and her intensity.

Marissa had good reason to be intense. Stephen’s cock was perfect -- a perfect fit, a perfect shape, and attached to the perfect guy. The teenage girl was on a one-track mind, and that track was to elicit from her boyfriend the largest, most excruciatingly powerful orgasm of his young life. She wanted to be the one to make him fall back like a sack of straw and gasp “all-time fucking greatest” awards between labored breaths. She wanted to be the girl Stephen always talked about when his friends were trading anecdotes about their sexual escapades. And she wanted to be the subject of his Best Sex Ever story... if not tonight forever, then tonight until she topped it.

“I’m... I’m coming...!”

Showtime.

“I’m FUCKING COMIIIINNNN--”

The first jet of hot semen hit the back of Marissa’s mouth with such force and in such great quantity that the entirety of it slid straight down her throat without even requiring a swallow. Stephen had literally blown a load directly into her stomach. The second stream was just as powerful; Stephen babbled out overloud grunts of pleasure -- punctuated by girlish squeals of euphoria -- as he bucked his hips, pushing his cock deeper into his girlfriend’s mouth at the same time he felt a rush of boiling cream rocket through his shaft and out its head. It was four full shots of cum before Marissa even had to concern herself with the act of swallowing.

When the time came, she rose to the challenge. Her lover’s fifth load nearly filled her mouth, and it took two swallows for her to get it all down. Stephen was white-knuckled, a boy possessed, bucking his hips with such force that he nearly threw himself off the couch. The sixth load was already on its way before Marissa finished that second swallow, and Stephen’s white hot cum began to spill from her lips and cascade down his cock. The boy bucked again; his seventh shot was about as large as a normal man’s first.

Marissa dejectedly gave up on swallowing fresh from the tap and allowed the next few shots of cum to arc up into her face, hitting her forehead, nose, and cheeks. The volume of semen was so great that it raced downwards and caked her face as if she were at the center of a gang bang circle jerk.

She was in heaven.

And so was Stephen. While his cum ran out with his 28th contraction, he continued for another seven. By the time he was done, his balls were so overworked and his glans was so sensitive that he could never imagine he’d ever want to have an orgasm again. He was grateful that his final one was the best of his life.

Marissa, sensing the end of Stephen’s supply of semen, masturbated him for the remaining seven as she climbed to a standing position. She leaned over, her face literally dripping and splattered white with cum, and pressed her lips to those of her boyfriend’s. He met her lips and it was with an historical love that the couple had their first kiss.

They embraced, dripping with sweat and sexual fluids, and simply melted into a makeout session of unheard levels of passion. Stephen’s face became wet and sticky with his own cum, and he even tasted himself for the first time as he explored Marissa’s mouth with his tongue, but he didn’t mind. In fact, it made the experience that much hotter.

When the kiss came to its natural conclusion, Stephen and Marissa concluded it with a gentle, measured separation from each other’s lips. For a half-second, they simply basked in the glow.

The half-second was over, and the semen vanished. Marissa sat on the floor and looked up at the couch. There Stephen was, seven years old, as happy as ever with his favorite babysitter.

.....

 

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