(Copyright 2005 by the author)
The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent.
Which I am saddened to say can no longer be obtained! (Effective August 14th 2007)
This tale will reveal to you the strange interlocking lives of three perverted
people, citizens of the town, Purple Plains, somewhere in the vast heartland of
the North American prairie.
Purple Plains was a good little town, full of good little people, doing their very best to keep Purple Plains perfectly plain and pure, not like those Sodom and Gomorrah-like sewer cities on the east and west coast of the country, where they tolerated every kind of disgusting deviation ever known to mankind.
In Purple Plains, nothing was tolerated. Absolutely nothing. After all, Purple Plains was the very place where the Triple F had been founded. The Functional Family Foundation. And now it had gone national. The whole continent was getting on the bandwagon. And this great organization had been started by none other than Purple Plains' own mayor, and most influential businessman, Perry Pepple (one of the three perverted people that are the subject of this tragic tale.) In Purple Plains, members of the Functional Family Foundation were known affectionately as 'Pepple's People.'
Perry Pepple was the wealthiest person in Purple Plains. He had made his modest millions peddling purity. First he had peddled purity to the poor, because they were desperate for something better than they already had. But little by little, the poison spread, and even the middle-class and the rich were converting to purity, though only in public. (What's private is private. Everyone knows that.) Many people joined the foundation, and contributed, even beyond their means, to fight the fight. To support the struggle.
And what was the struggle? The prime purpose of the Triple F was to encourage heterosexuality, which would lead to the expansion of the family. What could not be tolerated was same-sex intercourse, where the seed could only fall on barren soil and be wasted. This was an abomination condemned by the almighty, himself. (Everyone knows that. Read Leviticus.)
Perry Pepple's single ambition in life was to ferret out faggots. Of course, there were no longer any faggots in Purple Plains, but one could always hope to find a faggot, and then to????? What? Tattoo them? Imprison them? Deport them? Perry Pepple's dreams barely fell short of total annihilation. Extermination. Oh, to purify this great land of ours. A consummation devoutly to be wished. Perry Pepple had always detested queers, but, even so, he was not preaching hatred. He was advocating the all-encompassing love that would shine forth from the great redeemer upon all the righteous, holy people, such as himself. And his handsome, athletic son, Petey.
Perry Pepple doted on his singular son, Petey. For Petey was all that was left to him of his formerly functional family, ever since he had come home early from his office at the bank one day, and discovered his wife, Paula, in their very own matrimonial bed, doing unmentionable things with the Purple Plains High School girls gym teacher, Penelope Padway. His own wife, it seemed, was what they called a 'dyke.' She was a queer. They were really everywhere. Paula Pepple had shortly thereafter been dispatched in disgrace from Purple Plains to parts unknown, never to see her precious Petey again. The Purple Plains High School girls gym teacher had lost her job and her teaching license, as she was obviously unfit to be around impressionable teenagers. It is said she moved to Santa Fe, and became quite successful, designing turquoise jewelry.
Poor Perry Pepple, founder and owner of the Purple Plains Savings and Loan Associaton, was left alone to raise his boy by himself, and it may even have been this incident which inspired him to found the Functional Family Foundation, so that this horror would never again be visited on another family. He now had a mission in the world. Stamping out sodomy from Purple Plains, and indeed from every city, town, village, and hamlet on God's green earth.
Perry and Petey Pepple lived, just the two of them, in the big house on the hill. Perry Pepple never remarried. He decided to remain celibate, and devote his life to raising Petey. He no longer trusted women. From now on it would be just him and Petey.
Petey Pepple is the second of the three perverted people whose strange interconnections are discussed herein. Petey Pepple was the star quarterback on the Purple Plains High School football team. He was also the school swimming champion. He was also the school boxing champion. Perry Pepple knew that Petey Pepple was perfect, even if he was a little girl-crazy. Every young boy should be a little girl-crazy. That was good.
Some people would have said that Petey Pepple's only defect was his habit of pounding into powder any other boy whom he might find slightly effeminate. Or not quite all man. Yes. Petey Pepple was a chip off the old block, all right. The apple had not fallen far from the tree.
Once the school principal had foolishly brought Petey into his office, after some alleged bullying incident, and had the temerity to call Perry Pepple and ask him to come down to the school. Perry Pepple went right down to the school, and gave that principal a piece of his mind, and afterwards, had the man fired for protecting unmanly boys. Perry Pepple didn't see anything wrong with what Petey had done. It was perfectly proper to pick on such people. Girlish boys and womanly men were a threat to the continuance of life as we know it in this town and in this country, and, indeed, on this planet. They were a disease.
And now we come to Dr. David Drucker, the third thespian in this dreary drama. Dr. David Drucker was the town Medical Doctor, and the husband of Dierdre Drucker. They had two sons, Donny Drucker and Danny Drucker. Donny Drucker was in high school, but Danny Drucker was still in elementary school. The 7th grade.
Donny Drucker, unfortunately was not the captain of the football team. He was not the school swimming champion. He was not the school boxing champion. He was, however, president of the school drama club. He was also, unfortunately, the boy Petey Pepple had pounded into powder in the schoolyard, the day that Perry Pepple had been called down to the school.
Dr. David Drucker was a card-carrying member of the Triple F, because in Purple Plains you had to be a member of the Triple F. You really had to be. He was not enamored of the organization nor it's goals, nor it's message of intolerance and hatred. Especially since he, himself, while not purple, was ever-so-slightly lavender, and whenever he went out of town to medical conventions, he would tip the bellboy to find him a male hustler, whom he would fuck silly, all night long. There were also those special evenings, when a particularly handsome hustler would overcome all his foolish inhibitions and fuck him silly, all night long.
His hatred of Perry Pepple grew daily. It was yea verily at the point of exploding, but, of course, in Purple Plains such an emotion had to be concealed at all costs. His hatred and resentment became a gangrenous wound festering within him. How he wanted to destroy Perry Pepple, and even along with Perry Pepple, Petey Pepple. The two of them. Take them down. Remove intolerance and gay-bashing from Purple Plains. He longed to avenge his closeted, intermittently-queer self, and to avenge his beaten boy.
It so happened, that both Perry Pepple and Petey Pepple were patients of Dr. David Drucker. He was the only doctor in Purple Plains, after all. And it was thanks to this doctor/patient relationship, that Dr. Drucker was able to start formulating the most evil, diabolical plan ever devised by man. At least by any man in Purple Plains.
Petey Pepple was coming in to get his physical to make him eligible to enter the state shot-put tournament. Dr. Drucker was looking forward to examining Petey Pepple. It wasn't because Petey Pepple was a gorgeous, irresistible, long-limbed teenager, with the smoothest skin, and the most brilliant blue eyes, and the roundest, most adorable butt anyone had ever seen, or even that he possessed an unbelievable physical endowment, which had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, when he had encountered puberty at age thirteen. This endowment, Doctor Drucker knew, was genetic and inherited. (Perry Pepple was a walking prick in more than one way.) Dr. Drucker had beheld his formidable instrument many times, and each time an excited shiver had wracked his body. It was the one really good thing about Perry Pepple.
No. The reason Dr. Drucker was salivating, anticipating the approaching interview was that he was about to put into effect his long-dreamed-of enterprise, which would cause the downfall of Perry Pepple and of Petey Pepple. Oh. It was clever. It was original. It was dastardly.
The day arrived, and handsome young Petey Pepple entered his inner office. Dr. Drucker had him strip to put on a gown, with the opening in the back, but did not leave the room while Petey Pepple changed. He had to see that spectacular endowment one more time. And that ass. That ass. Petey Pepple was not the least bit shy about stripping in front of Dr. Drucker. He was almost flaunting his perfect body. He was almost swaggering. Oh. Did Petey Pepple ever know that he was magnificent. Petey Pepple had never had so much as a pimple on his peerless, unparalleled posterior.
Dr. Drucker tried to calm himself and stop his hands from shaking, because he was going to have to draw blood to send to the lab. But first, he checked Petey Pepple's eyes, and ears, and even beamed the tiny flashlight into Petey Pepple's nostrils. Everything was fine.
He checked Petey Pepple's blood pressure. 110 over 70. He took his pulse. 65. He pressed his stethoscope against Petey Pepple's back and told him to take deep breaths, so that he could check his lungs. Then he moved his stethoscope to Petey Pepple's heart to listen to the beat. He then did a cardiogram. Perfect. Everything was perfect. Everything about Petey Pepple was extraordinary. Too bad he was such a mean motherfucker.
Next, Dr. Drucker, lovingly fondled Petey's enormous round balls. "Cough," he told Petey. Petey coughed. "Cough again," said Dr. Drucker. Petey coughed again. Dr. Drucker hated to let go of those tantalizing testicles. After that, Dr. Drucker slipped a rubber glove over one hand and had Petey bend over the examining table. He squeezed lubricant on his index finger, and ever so gently wormed it into Petey's tight rectum, feeling all the walls, spreading the hole as much as he could, inching forward, and now touching the prostate. No trouble there. It was a perfect prostate. He didn't want to withdraw his finger. Such a perfect prostate.
"Doc," protested Petey Pepple. His dick was starting to puffen from the digital stimulation he was receiving. It was feeling just too good. Just too good. "Doc," he said again, his voice a little unsteady. Dr. Drucker came out of an almost hypnotic spell, and grudgingly withdrew his delighted digit. He pulled off the rubber glove, regretfully. It had been lovely, but it was time to move on.
"I'm going to have to draw some blood, now," said Dr. Drucker.
"Sure, Doc. Whatever you say. Go ahead." Petey Pepple held out his arm. He was a strong brave lad. He was not even afraid of needles. Dr. Drucker filled several tubes with Petey's precious red fluid, and finally drew out the needle, pressing a gauze pad onto the wound and holding it for a couple of minutes, so that Petey Pepple would not get a hematoma on his perfect white skin.
"I'll call you when the blood work is back from the lab," Dr. Drucker told Petey Pepple. "I'm sure everything will be just fine, but I can't approve you for the state tournament until I get the blood work back."
"Sure, Doc," Petey Pepple said, and flashed his incredibly brilliant smile, showing his strong, straight, shiny, alabaster teeth. Little did he know.
"You can get dressed now, Petey," said Dr. Drucker, but did not withdraw from the room while Petey Pepple changed. He fidgeted with the tubes of blood and labeled them, while sneaking glances at Petey Pepple's long thick cock. And when Petey Pepple bent over to step into his boxer shorts, and pull them up, Dr. Drucker could not help but admire the almost sculptural muscle tone in his beautiful, beautiful buttcheeks.
It took almost a week for the blood results to come back from the lab. Dr. Drucker checked the numbers. Everything was fine. Just fine. The boy was the picture of health. Now Dr. Drucker would proceed with his plan. He sat down at his desk, and with a ballpoint pen, made a few extra entries on the lab report.
Then he called Perry Pepple in his office at the Functional Family Foundation.
"Perry, this is David Drucker."
"Hello there, Doc," said Perry Pepple in his artificial, overly-familiar, unctuous voice. "What's on your mind?"
"It's about Petey," said Dr. Drucker. "Did you know that Petey came in for a physical last week so that he could apply to the state shot-put tournament?"
"Yeah," said Perry Pepple. "He did mention it to me. Why? Is there anything wrong?"
"I'm not going to say anything over the phone, Perry, but I want you and Petey to come into my office. As soon as possible."
"Well, sure, Doc," Perry Pepple's voice started to sound a little anxious. "Can't you tell me anything, now?"
"I want to tell you both in person," insisted Dr. Drucker. Though his voice was projecting anxiety and concern, Dr. Drucker was happily doodling throughout the conversation. Naughty obscene doodles of male genitalia. He would have to rip them to shreds when he got off the phone. "When can you come in?" he asked Perry Pepple.
"How about four tomorrow afternoon, after Petey gets out from school."
"Fine," said Dr. Drucker, "I have another appointment at four, but I'll reschedule it. This is too important,"
"Sure, Doc," said Perry Pepple in a very worried voice, which now sounded less unctuous and condescending. "See you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow at four," repeated Dr. Drucker, and he hung up the phone. And then he roared "YESSSS," and shot a triumphant fist up into the air. D day had arrived. Or was it P day? P for punishment. P for Perry. P for Petey. P for Pepple. So very many P's.
Perry and Petey Pepple arrived in Dr. Drucker's office at 3:45 the next afternoon. Dr. Drucker was finishing with another patient, 93 year old Dorothy Dapple, who had been forgetting words recently. Dr. Drucker took his sweet time with Dorothy Dapple, and waited until she had remembered each question she wanted to ask, and answered each one of them with enough care and consideration to put her mind at rest. Let the Pepples wait, he thought. Let them sit and stew in the outer office.
Finally Dorothy Dapple freshened her lipstick, looking in the mirror strapped to Dr. Drucker's head, and left. Dr. Drucker escorted Perry and Petey into his private office and sat them in the two armchairs, facing his across the desk. He sat down in his own chair, and poured over Petey's charts, sadly shaking his head.
"I don't know how to tell you this," his voice faltered.
"What is it, Doc?" asked Perry Pepple. "For God's sake, what is it? Is there something wrong with Petey?"
"The blood tests have uncovered an extremely rare and extremely serious condition. I'm afraid I cannot approve Petey for the state shot-put tournament."
"It's serious?" asked Perry Pepple, about to have the first panic attack in his entire self-satisfied life.
"I'm afraid it's very serious, Perry," said Dr. Drucker, in the gravest voice he could manage.
"What is it?"
"Petey has Myoneuroplasia," Dr. Drucker announced, carefully pronouncing the disease he had invented only recently. Myoneuroplasia. It sounded so good. So serious. So fatal???
"Oh, my God," screamed Perry Pepple. "Myoneuroplasia. No. Not. Myoneuroplasia."
"Yes," confirmed Dr. Drucker.
In the midst of his anguish, Perry Pepple looked up blankly and asked the pertinent question. "What's Myoneuroplasia?"
"I thought you might ask me that," said Dr. Drucker, picking up a heavy medical book and opening it to the page where he had hidden the paragraph he had recently composed concerning the symptoms of Myoneuroplasia, and its eventual grim outcome.
"Myoneuroplasia is a serious disease of the neurons and muscle cells, involving the ganglia and the subtetonic layer of the spinal cord and middle brain. The cause of the disease is not known, but it has been connected to people carrying the Caccaducas Bacterium in the Fibultarum and in the female of the species, also in the Genulacrum of the body. Patient gradually loses all ability to speak and to move, which condition only lasts for a short period of time before ..." Dr. Drucker pursed his lips, as if not even wanting to even read the end of the sentence to them.
"Before..." repeated Perry Pepple, his eyes glazed and his lips dry.
"Exactly," said Dr. Drucker.
"But there's a cure, right Doc?" asked Perry Pepple, pleadingly, hopefully.
"Oh, God, Doc. There's gotta be a cure. You gotta do something for my boy," he begged.
Perry Pepple was putty in Dr. Drucker's hands now. He knew that his plan was going to work, and his heart was leaping in his chest. What jubilation!
"There is one thing.." He was about to suggest something, but then shook his head. "No. The cure is worse than the disease. I can't even tell you."
"Please, Doc. Tell me. You've gotta tell me. This is Petey we're talking about. My Petey." He reached over and grabbed Petey in an affectionate embrace. Pete was just sitting there stunned. The cocky attitude had mysteriously departed in the last several minutes. "What is this cure?" pressed Perry Pepple.
"There is a new medication," Dr. Drucker said unenthusiastically. "But it has to be administered in a very strange way. I can't even tell you. No.
"Don't forget it," said Perry Pepple, almost threateningly now. "What is it? I don't care what it is. My Petey's gonna be treated. You got me?"
"You may not think so, when I tell you how the medication has to be administered."
"How?" asked Petey Pepple, at last speaking up. This was his life, after all.
"There is a new wonder drug called Silanthropine. It seems to be involved in a round-about way with people actually recovering from Myoneuroplasia."
"Great," yelled Perry Pepple, relieved beyond words. "So you'll give Petey this Silanthropine, right?"
"I'm afraid it's not quite that simple," stated Dr. Drucker. This was the tricky part. He had to explain this very logically and very clearly. "Silanthropine is a pill. Yes. But the patient doesn't swallow the pill, himself. It must be administered."
"How, Doc?" asked Perry Pepple.
"The Silanthropine must be delivered into the patient's system by injection."
"But you just said it was a pill. Is it a pill or an injection?" asked Perry Pepple, now thoroughly confused. "You can give Petey an injection?"
"No," said Dr. Drucker. "It is not injected via hypodermic needle. It must be delivered deep inside Petey's body, via his rectum."
"Like an enema?" asked Petey, looking more and more unhappy. Hypodermics were bad enough, but enemas - phooo.
"How can I explain this?" puzzled Dr. Drucker. "They discovered the usefulness of the drug merely by accident. Several women who were suffering from Myoneuroplasia suddenly began to recover. And every one of them had one thing in common."
"Yes?" asked Perry Pepple. He was getting impatient.
All of their husbands were suffering from heart palpitations and had been prescribed this new wonder drug, Silanthropine. Naturally, the couples were having marital relations, and it seems that the husbands' semen contained massive amounts of the drug. Thus, Silanthropine, ejected into the vagina during sexual intercourse, was found to be an effective treatment for this terrible disease.
"But couldn't Petey just take the pill or get an injection?" asked Perry.
"No. They began experimenting with the drug, and they tried everything. By mouth. By needle. Nothing else worked. They even tried vaginal douches. Completely ineffective. It was only effective when ejected into the vagina as an ingredient in male semen." Dr. Drucker stared blankly into Perry Pepple's eyes, as he began to mindlessly doodle vaginas shaped as butterflies. Fortunately, when Perry Pepple leaned over to look at the pad, he saw only butterflies.
"But how is this going to help Petey?" Perry Pepple asked hopelessly. "Petey hasn't got a vagina."
"I understand that," said Dr. Drucker. "But of course, they needed to treat Myoneuroplasia in men as well as women, so they enrolled willing participants in a blind-study program. The results were amazing. Among the men who got the actual therapy, there was a cure rate of 97%. In the control group...Very sad. Very sad."
"I still don't understand," said Perry Pepple. Was he being deliberately obtuse? Dr. Drucker was sure that he would have understood by now, what had to be done. "What exactly is this therapy?"
"Someone other than the patient has to ingest the drug, and administer it to the patient rectally."
"That's disgusting," yelled Perry Pepple. "That's what queers do." He finally understood what the Doctor was driving at. "Couldn't it be administered in an enema?"
""No," said Dr. Drucker. "That's why I didn't want to tell you. It would be better to just let nature take its course. Poor Petey. Poor Petey." He shook his head sadly.
For the next several minutes Dr. Drucker drew butterflies, as Perry and Petey Pepple sat silently, looking at each other. Dr. Drucker thought he saw a tear drip from Perry Pepple's left eye, down his left cheek. Dr. Drucker was pleased to see a human emotion in Perry Pepple. At last.
"What do you think, Petey?" asked Perry Pepple in a defeated voice.
"Whatever you say, Dad. Whatever you think," Petey conceded. He really didn't want to die.
Perry Pepple took a deep breath, and held it, and finally exhaling, said, "Ok, Doc. We'll do it. I guess I need a prescription."
"No. I have some Silanthropine right here in the office. Medical samples from the salespeople. They keep leaving me bottles of it." Dr. Drucker opened the center drawer of his desk and took out the small unlabeled brown bottle, he had filled earlier in the day with a harmless antihistamine, Leberol. He had scads and scads of Leberol in the office. They were always leaving samples of that. Had been for years.
"But I don't have palpitations," noted Perry Pepple. What happens when I start taking the Silanthropine?"
"Absolutely nothing," said Dr. Drucker. There are absolutely no side effects. "You'll be quite safe, and Petey will improve greatly. You've made a wise decision, Perry." He handed the bottle to Perry Pepple. "I opened some samples bottles and gave you a month's supply in this larger bottle."
"Thanks, Doc," said Perry Pepple, accepting the alleged Silanthropine.
"If I take one now, can I start the treatment tonight?"
"No. Absolutely not. It has to build up in your blood. You have to take it for five days before the first treatment." Dr. Drucker loved that part of the instructions. Five days. Let them anticipate the dire deed for five dreadful days first. Give them something to look forward to. Hah! "And I want to see Petey in four weeks. I'll have to do new blood work, to see how we're progressing."
"Sure, Doc," agreed Perry Pepple. He shook the doctor's hand, and he and Petey left the office, both of them close to tears.
Perry Pepple drove home on autopilot. He was scarcely aware of the road or of Petey Pepple sitting beside him on the front seat. Petey Pepple was hardly more cognizant of reality than his father. As they drove, they said nothing to each other. Both were thinking of that ghastly moment five days hence, when... No. Better not to think. Better not to think. Better not to think.
When they arrived back at the house on the hill, Perry Pepple went immediately into the kitchen, and filled a glass with cold water from the refrigerator. He opened the brown bottle and shook out a small tablet. He took his first dose of 'Silanthropine.'
He took another dose the next morning. And another dose each of the following three mornings. He had by now ingested five tablets of what was to be the miracle cure for his son, Petey. That night, they would begin therapy. And, as per Dr. Drucker's instructions, every night thereafter. At least once. More, if possible.
Perry Pepple was indeed fortunate. What Dr. Drucker had said was true. He was having no ill effects from taking the Silanthropine tablets. In fact, he had never felt so well in his life. Often when he crossed the garden from the driveway to the front porch, he would have a sneezing attack when he passed the rosebush in the front yard. But he hadn't sneezed once since he began taking the little yellow pill. It was doing wonders for his rose fever. He would have to mention this to Dr. Drucker. His discovery could open the door for an off-label use of the medication.
Perry Pepple knew all too well that tonight was the night. The first life-saving treatment. Why did he feel such foreboding? He was totally prepared. He had gone into Phillips Pharmacy, and purchased everything he might need for the therapeutic thrust of his penis into his boy's bottom. He had bought lubrication, and a red rubber enema bag.
Perry and Petey had discussed the procedure, and Petey agreed with Perry that it would be better if he were empty and immaculate. That way the medicine could reach all the cells, the better to penetrate. He had called Dr. Drucker to make sure this was a good idea, and Dr. Drucker had heartily approved.
They had a small dinner. A liverwurst sandwich with mayo on white bread. After swallowing down the last of their cola drinks, they went into the living room to watch the Plainsmen beat the Pointers on the ball field. The game was being televised.
Soon, however, they both knew the time had come and went upstairs to Perry Pepple's bedroom. The act would take place on Perry Pepple's bed. It was bigger than Petey Pepple's bed.
Wordlessly, Petey Pepple stripped off his clothes and lay face down along the length of the bed. He buried his face in the pillow. He was a little embarrassed, after all. He had never minded being nude in front of other people, but this was his father. He was not used to showing off his body in front of Perry Pepple. And Perry Pepple had always been so proper and disapproving of the bare body. This was really so, so embarrassing.
Perry Pepple went to the bathroom and filled the red rubber enema bag with warm soapy water. When the bag was full, he tested a drop on his wrist. Yes. This was about right. Not too hot, and not too cold. He walked back into the bedroom where Petey was on naked display before his very eyes. The scene seemed almost obscene. But Petey's very life was at stake. Perry coated the plastic end of the long red hose with the Glycerogel he had purchased at Phillips Pharmacy. He even put some on his finger, and lightly coated the outside of Petey's ....He wasn't happy about touching such a spot, but he would wash his hands with antibacterial soap when this was all done.
"You ready, Petey?" he asked somberly.
"I guess so, Dad. Go ahead."
The father gently placed the plastic piece in position, and ever so gently eased it forward. When it was firmly in place, he opened the steel clip on the hose, and the water started emptying into Petey's belly. Petey was making little noises of discomfort.
"You all right, Petey?"
"Just stop it for a second, dad. I've got a little cramp."
Perry closed the steel clip, and waiting a few moments, holding the bag high in his left hand.
"Okay, Petey?" he asked.
"I guess so. Go ahead," said Petey, reluctantly.
He opened the clip and the water again began to flow. The bag was getting emptier and emptier, and now it was totally empty. All the hot soapy water that had been in the bag a few moments earlier, was now inside Petey's belly. Perry slowly withdrew the plastic tip, and walked into the bathroom to wash everything, while Petey lay on the bed, letting the water permeate him. And then,
"Hey, Dad. I need to get in there. Right now."
Perry Pepple hung the disinfected apparatus over the shower curtain rod, where it leisurely dripped its drops of remaining moisture into the tub, he was walking out the bathroom door, when Petey squeezed past him in the doorway. Petey slammed the door, and Perry returned to the bedroom, hearing liquid sounds coming from the bathroom behind him.
They waited a half hour, until Petey felt that he was completely empty.
"Okay, dad," said Petey. "I guess that's it."
Perry Pepple began to remove his clothing. Slowly. Without enthusiasm. How would they face each other after this? Petey tried not to look at his father, but his curiousity got the better of him, and he sneaked a peek at the parental endowment. Wow. My God. His blood ran cold.
At this very moment, in Dr. Drucker's home, Dierdre Drucker was clearing the table after a meal of roast pork with apple sauce, baked potatoes and string beans. Donny Drucker went up to his bedroom to learn his lines for the school play. He was going to play Macbeth. Mary Alice Hooper had been cast as Lady Macbeth, and they were getting very friendly during rehearsals. Donny Drucker wanted to fuck her.
Danny Drucker went into his own bedroom to study for his geography test in the morning, but every so often, he went over to his computer and found pictures of naked people doing naughty things. He lied to the computer and said he was eighteen and got to see all the great pictures. There were boys. There were girls. There were boys and girls together. There were boys and boys together. The computer was really hot. As he admired the shot of the handsome blonde boy kneeling in front of the handsome, dashing, dark, Spanish-looking boy, and holding the Spanish-looking boy's penis in his mouth, he tried to commit to memory that Zanzibar was an island off the coast of Tanzania.
Dr. Drucker went into his study. After a little while his wife, Dierdre, knocked on the door.
"Yes?" he asked.
"I'm finished with the dishes. You can take the garbage out," she told him.
"In a few minutes, dear," he answered. "I'm just doing something."
Dierdre shut the study door and went into the living room to watch a Novela. She had been a Spanish major in college and was addicted to the Spanish soap operas, the Novelas, as they are called. Most especially Mujer Satanica. Devil Woman.
What Dr. Drucker was doing was getting a vicarious thrill out of what he imagined was going on in the Pepple house at this moment. Maybe at this very moment.
What was going on at this very moment, was that Perry Pepple, now totally denuded was climbing over the outstretched body of his beloved boy, Petey. He, with the upturned, naked, alabaster ass. Perry had liberally coated his penis with Glycerogel, and Petey had applied some to his now immaculately clean asshole. Everything was a 'go.' Except... Perry Pepple did not have an
erection. His penis was long, but limp and languishing.
Nevertheless, he persevered. He was not going to let that stop him. He grabbed his organ and stretched it, placing the tip of it at Petey's opening, and manually, he tried to force it in, figuring that once it was inside, it would naturally stiffen up from the pressure surrounding it. But Petey kept fighting him, bucking and yelling, "ooowww." What could be done? Petey just had to get his treatment.
Perry had an idea, and was almost afraid to articulate it to his son. But they had to go through with this. This was no time for false propriety.
"Petey, son. Do you think that maybe you could suck me off a little. Just a little, to help me get hard?"
Petey Pepple's face turned green. This was getting worse and worse. But what could he do?
"Sure, Dad," he agreed. Perry Pepple lay his head back on the puffy pillows and spread his legs, allowing Petey to crawl between them and bend low over his crotch. Petey gently touched his father's dick with his agile fingers, and lifted the penis into his mouth. He began to exert oral pressure on the limber length of it. The warmth and wetness of Petey's mouth was too much not to respond to.
Gradually the penis began lengthening and rigidifying inside Petey's mouth.
"Oh, Petey," he moaned. "Oh, yes. Oh, yes. That's so good. Suck me. Suck my cock."
Petey had never heard such indecencies out of his father's mouth. His face colored slightly, but he kept sucking the paternal peter. He even licked his father's bulbous balls a little. But finally Perry Pepple knew it was time to fulfill his task.
"Okay, Petey," he said, simply.
The boy understood and lay flat on the bed with his bottom exposed. Perry Pepple again crawled over his boy, but this time with a determined dick, which had again been coated with Glycerogel.
And this time its hardness was insistently forcing the boys muscular aperture to spread, and spread, a little more, and a little more; and now the big head of Perry Pepple's prodding prick was inside Petey's ever-more-receptive rectum.
Perry settled all the way in and let the walls of Petey's ass, tightly surrounding his dick, adjust to its length and girth. Petey had stopped groaning, and Perry took this as a sign to continue. He began with a very gentle hunching movement. To. Fro. To. Fro. Ever so slightly. To. Fro.
The hot pressure of Petey's asswalls felt fantastic. What a disgusting thought. This was a necessary medical treatment. Nothing more. Fantastic. Hot. Wet. Wonderful. Wonderful. Wonderful. Oh, Petey. Oh, Petey.
Petey decided that that the cure for his condition was not nearly as bad as some other therapies he had heard of, such as radiation, and chemotherapy. Yes. He could tolerate this. It wasn't so bad. He could really tolerate this. His father's penis was stuffing his bottom, and it felt so warm, and so comfortable, and so nice. No. He didn't want it to feel nice. No. No. But he couldn't help it. It felt nice. He raised his ass up a little and did some muscular tricks that would massage his father's fat prick. It was way up inside him. Way up. And it was hitting a crazy spot. It was making him want to shoot his cum. Would his father be angry? Was this even more evil than masturbation?
"GGGAAAA," Petey Pepple choked, as his teenage seed rocked out of him onto the bedsheets. His stuffed asswalls started quivering and pulsing around his father's plunging penis, until Perry Pepple could stand no more, and the healing liquid shot out inside his son's ass, flowing all through the boy's system, as the doctor had wanted it to. A very successful organic injection of Silanthropine.
Perry Pepple rested on his boy's back and bottom for a few minutes, until he regained his vigor. Then he withdrew the softening member. He got up and went to the bathroom to wash his penis with antiseptic soap. And he was happy. If he had anything to say about it, his boy was going to live. Petey would be cured of this dreadful disease. Years from now they would laugh about the means to a cure they had had to endure.
In the bedroom, Petey Pepple, feeling a strange contentment, had fallen into a deep sleep in the middle of his father's bed.
The Pepples were very good about following the prescribed regimen. After the discomfiture of the first night, they both found that they were actually looking forward to the nightly treatments. It had become almost a way of life for them. They would be almost sorry, when Petey Pepple would be pronounced in total remission, and they would have no reason to continue what had almost become enjoyable.
They tried to pretend to each other and to themselves that it was only a medical necessity. But it had become the most thrilling thing that had ever happened in each of their lives. They would never admit it, but they could no longer stand to be separated from each other. Every minute of the day that Perry Pepple's cock was not poking Petey Pepple's ass was agony for Petey. He could hardly wait to get home every night for his treatment. As for Perry Pepple. He totally erased from his mind, that boyass fucking was queer, and sonass fucking was even worse. It was, how you say?, queer incest. But what an ass his adorable son had. If Perry lived to be one thousand years old, he would never get enough of it.
In order to make sure that the medicine reached every single cell, they coupled in many curious configurations. One night it would be Perry and Petey, face to face. Another night, Petey would be on all fours, with his behind beckoning like an ovulating bitch. Sometimes Perry would lie back on the puffed pillow, and Petey would just sit on him and do all the work. Those were the lazy nights. There were also the spoon nights, when they would lie on their sides, with Perry's chest pressed against Petey's long, tapering back, and with Petey's one leg in the air, as Perry fed the treatment tube into his son.
After three weeks had passed, Petey Pepple had received many many healing ejaculations from his medicated father. Perry made an appointment with Dr. Drucker to have Petey's blood rechecked. They drove down to the doctor's office, and Dr. Drucker drew several tubes of blood. He gave Perry Pepple another large supply of Silanthropine, and told him to continue the treatments until he had the lab report.
A week later Dr. Drucker called Perry Pepple on the telephone.
"Perry. This is David Drucker."
"Hi, Doc." Said Perry Pepple. "Did the tests come back?"
"Yes, they did," said Dr. Drucker, doodling erections on the notepad in front of him.
"There has been some improvement. But I want to analyze the treatments, and see if there isn't something more we could be doing. And also it's possible that Petey may need some double treatments."
"How do you mean double treatments?"
"Two injections at once."
"I can't do that, Doc. I have to rest."
"I know. I know. I understand that," said Doctor Drucker understandingly. "But I'm prepared to help you."
"In what way?"
"I started taking Silanthropine today. That means I need four more days to be effective. I want you and Petey to come into my office on Friday. Is that okay with you?"
"Petey has school."
"Write him a note. Tell the school you have to take him to the doctor. Bring him in at 2 p.m. I leave early on Fridays."
"Okay, Doc," said Perry Pepple. He had to listen to the doctor. He had hoped that Petey would already be well, but that was not the case. But whatever it would take.....
During the next four days, Doctor Drucker prepared the examining room for the scheduled session. He brought in a folding cot, which could be opened for the event, and he rented lighting equipment, plus the finest video and sound equipment. After all, as he had told Perry Pepple, he had to analyze their conjunction, and elicit whether or not they were doing it as effectively as possible.
Friday. 2 p.m. Dr. Drucker had seen his last patient at 11 a.m., and eaten a light lunch. He had brown bagged it today. Salmon salad on rye, plus some bottled ice tea. He had stored it in his little refrigerator along with the perishable injectable serums.
Wiping his lips with a paper napkin, he began to set up the lights all around the room. He opened the cot in the middle of the room, put crisp white sheets over the mattress, and proceded to focus all the lights on what would be the scene of the action.
He got out the camera and the sound equipment, and readied everything. He was ready. He waited. And yes. Now it was Friday. 2 p.m. The Pepples were in the waiting room. Dr. Drucker went out into the waiting room and escorted the man and the boy into the examination room.
He made them undress, and taped them even in the act of shedding their garments. When they were ready, he motioned for Petey to lie face down on the cot. He taped Petey from every angle, but let the camera linger lasciviously for quite a length of time on Petey's rapturous rump.
Then he turned the camera on Perry who was stroking his mighty meat into an extraordinary erection. Dr. Drucker motioned for him to move toward the cot. Perry stood over Petey, and began patting his palm over Petey's cherishable cheeks. Then he climbed over Petey's ass and aimed his dick down.
He was in, and he hadn't even used Glycerogel. Dr. Drucker focused on the hunching of Perry's ass, as he plowed his cock into Petey. He lowered the camera close to the entry point, and taped the long dick moving smoothly in and out of the tight hairless boyflesh. As he was taping, Dr. Drucker was getting an unbelievable hard-on, and it was all he could do not to reach down in order to free it and whack it.
"Oh, Dad. That feels so good. I feel you inside me. All the way inside me."
"I know, honeyboy. I feel it too. It feels good to me too. So good. Your hot ass is just clinging onto my dick. Oh, yeah."
"Oh, Daddy. Oh, Daddy," Petey moaned over and over, his little ass circling around his daddy's dick like a propeller.
"You want your medicine now, boy. You want me to shoot your hot medicine into you. Tell me how much you want your medicine."
"Oh, yes, Daddy," Petey was now screaming. "Give me my medicine. I need my medicine. I want to live. Shoot that medicine that you're storing in your big balls up my tight ailing asshole. Cure me with your cum. Please, Daddy. Medicate me. Cum in my ass."
"I am, baby. I'm coming in your hot tight little ass. Can you feel my cock swelling up inside you?"
"Yes, Daddy. I feel it. I feel it. It's swelling. It's swelling. It's getting bigger in my hole."
""YYYYYYAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!. Can you feel the medicine shooting out into your hole?" Blast. Blast. Blast. Blast. Blast. "YYYYYAAAAGGGHHHH"
"I feel it, Daddy. I feel the hot serum burning into my tissues. Medicating me. Curing me. Like I'm receiving a holy blessing from Our Lady of Purple Plains."
Perry Pepple wrapped his arms around Petey Pepple's chest, and they lay glued together about to fall into a restful nap. Dr. Drucker was having trouble walking around the room with his hard-on stretching his pants out so obviously. He turned off the camera, and the lights, and the sound equipment. He had a good visual record of the rapturous reunion, and even the sound had been great. He removed the tape from the camera, and locked it in the safe in his private office. He returned to the examination room where Perry and Petey were still conjoined on the cot, dozing.
"Okay," said Dr. Drucker. "Fine. Perry, get up please."
Almost in a daze, Perry Pepple rose to his feet. Petey Pepple lay where he was but looked over his shoulder to see what would happen next.
"Okay, Perry. Now I'm going to give Petey an extra dose of Silanthropine. You understand that this is necessary. Don't you, Perry?"
"I guess so," said Perry Pepple, shrugging his shoulders. The doctor knew best.
Dr. Drucker started to remove his clothes. He had just a little trouble stretching his underpants out, so that they wouldn't catch on the tip of his enormous, 45 degree-angled erection. Finally he was naked. He turned Petey Pepple over, and spread the boy's legs. He got on his knees between Petey's legs. He wanted to look into Petey's brilliant blue eyes as he fucked him.
He took his spikey prick in his hand and placed it at the wet entranceway into Petey's asshole. It was so wet. Wet from all the hot cum his father had just poured into him. Dr. Drucker was really turned on with the idea of sloppy seconds. This was so much better than a dry asshole. A wet sloppy asshole dripping with another man's gooey sticky load. This was so hot. This was so fucking hot. His dick just slid in so easily along the cumcoated walls of Petey's ass. Dr. Drucker grabbed the hard muscles that were the two cheeks of Petey's butt, and squeezed them, and squeezed them. All the while, as he was moving in and out of Petey, he was staring into his brilliant blue eyes. Those eyes, which stared back at him without blinking. They were staring at him in lust and desire. Petey really wanted his stiff prick.
"Take that, you motherfucker," screamed Dr. Drucker, lost in the insanity of the moment. For a second he was afraid Perry Pepple might get angry.
Perry Pepple was just getting turned on again, seeing another man fuck his sensational son. He was playing with his dick, which was almost erect again.
"Play with my balls," said Dr. Drucker to Perry Pepple. "If you want me to shoot the medicine into your son's hot little ass, I need you to play with my balls."
Perry Pepple knelt on the very edge of the cot, and began fondling Dr. Drucker's balls. After all, his son needed that extra dose of Silanthropine.
Dr. Drucker couldn't help himself. Lost in the passion of the moment, he wanted to know the taste of Petey Pepple's hard handsome mouth. He lowered his face and let his tongue separate the boy's lips. And then he was tongue fucking him and cock fucking him at the same time. And his tickled balls were itching, and it was beyond belief, and now he felt the tickle in his loins, and he felt his cock expanding inside Petey's wondrous clutching assmouth, and he was going to shoot his cum into this beautiful boy. The boy was about to get his Silanthropine.
"GGGHHHAAAAHHH," screamed Dr. Drucker. "Here it comes. Take it. Take it. Take my thick load inside your hot teenage ass, you goddamn little bully fuck." And with that he shot. Copiously. Blast after blast. Petey's muscles closed down on each throb of his dick, milking the cum out. Milking. Milking. Getting all the cum. All the Silanthropine.
No sooner had Dr. Drucker gotten to his feet, when Perry Pepple took his place, erection in hand. "I think I can give Petey an extra dose," Perry explained.
"Good," said Dr. Drucker. "The more the better." He was only sorry he had already dismantled the camera and the lighting.
Now Perry Pepple was staring into Petey Pepple's brilliant blue eyes as he fucked him.
"Oh, Daddy. Fuck me. Fuck me. I love your cock, Daddy. Fuck your little boy."
"Yes, baby. Daddy's fucking his own precious little boy. Daddy's cock is way up inside his little boy's ass. Daddy is gonna shoot another big hot load of medicated cum up inside his little boy. Does Daddy's little boy want another load of hot cum?" Perry Pepple was enjoying this fuck so much. He had now lost every inhibition he had ever had. He was poking a fuckpassage filled with so much cum. His own cum. The doctor's cum. There were lascivious liquid sounds coming from deep inside Petey's ass, as his cock moved relentlessly in and out, squooshing, squooshing, whipping the cum to a froth. But, oh god, what if the Functional Family Foundation ever found out about this? Would they ever understand that this was a medical necessity? No they wouldn't. Pepple's People wouldn't understand at all that he was just saving Petey's life. They would expect him to be willing to sacrifice his only son, just as Abraham had been willing. But he was not as strong as Abraham. He was only human, after all.
"OOOOHHH," moaned Petey. "I love your cock inside me. It feels so good. Let me keep it in me forever. Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"
As Petey thrashed about and blathered, Perry knew that he could not hold back one second longer, and another gush of Silanthropine flooded up Petey's sopping-wet asshole. "YAAAAAGGGHHH," screamed Perry Pepple in his final juicejet of the afternoon.
Perry and Petey Pepple put on their clothing and drove home. Dr. Drucker promised the he would study the tape and offer suggestions. Dr. Drucker and Perry Pepple shook hands, and the father and son left the office.
Before Dr. Drucker put on his own clothes, he lay down on the cot and took a restful little nap. He had wonderful dreams.
After three days, Dr. Drucker called Perry Pepple. "I've been studying the videotape, Perry," he said. "From what I can see your technique during the application is just fine. I have a suggestion, though. It's never been tried, but I don't see how it could hurt. Double your dose of Silanthropine. Take one tablet in the morning and one tablet in the evening. Let's just see how that works."
"Okay," said Perry Pepple. He was not sorry about increasing the dosage, because he had been feeling so wonderful up until the last couple of days, when his nose started running, and his eyes started itching, after uprooting some goldenrod in the front yard. Maybe the double dose would cure him as well as Petey.
Perry Pepple upped the dosage, and sure enough, his eyes and nose felt better. He felt so good, in fact, that he was fucking Petey twice every night. Double dose. Double fuck. Petey would be well in no time at all.
Several days later, Dr. Drucker made the call he had been waiting to make.
"Hello, Perry. This is David Drucker."
"Yes, Doc. Is anything wrong?"
"Well. I don't know. There may be," said the doctor delicately.
"What is it? Something about Petey?"
"No. No. Nothing like that."
Perry Pepple took a deep breath. A sigh of relief. "Then what is it?"
"I've had a break-in here," said Dr. Drucker. "Somebody broke in and trashed my office. They stole all my drugs, my narcotics, everything."
"Oh, that's terrible, Doc. Did you call the police?" asked Perry.
"Yes. Yes, I did," lied Dr. Drucker. "They just left here. The thieves left no clues. Not a single fingerprint."
"Damn drug addicts," said Perry Pepple. Drug addicts were bad people. They were anti-family. The Functional Family Foundation definitely disapproved of drug addicts.
"There's something else," said Dr. Drucker.
"I had some money stored in my safe. They broke into my safe and got my money."
"Sorry to hear that, Doc," said Perry Pepple, trying to sound sympathetic. He really didn't care about the doctor's stolen cash.
"There's something else," said Dr. Drucker.
"They also got the videotape."
"The videotape???" Perry Pepple didn't want to believe what he was hearing, so his brain refused to think what the 'videotape' might be.
"Yes. The videotape of you delivering Petey's prescription to him."
Perry Pepple's mind went numb. He held the phone in his hand and stared blankly ahead. He didn't know he had the phone in his hand. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know who he was. Coma. Vegetative state.
"Perry? Are you there?" asked Dr. Drucker.
"Yes," answered a small choked voice. "This is bad. This is really bad."
"Oh, Perry. I wouldn't worry about it. They just took everything in the safe. I'm sure they have no interest in watching television," Dr. Drucker soothed the shaken man.
"You think so?" asked Perry Pepple, grasping at any straw.
"Absolutely. I wouldn't give it a second thought. Oh, excuse me, Perry. I have to go. The police are back with a sniff dog."
They said goodbye and both of them hung up. Dr. Drucker was laughing hysterically as he doodled. A sniff dog. What a great image. Poor Perry Pepple. His day of reckoning had come. The Functional Family Foundation indeed.
The next thing that Dr. Drucker did was drive down to the Purple Plains post office, and mail the many many copies he had made of the Pepple performance.
He mailed it to porno websites. He mailed it to newspapers. He mailed it to radio talk shows. He mailed it to television soft-news programs, (unfortunately, there was no hard news on television anymore.) He mailed it to liberal blog sites on the Internet. Included was an anonymous cover letter identifying the performance artists as Perry Pepple, head of the Functional Family Foundation, homosexual hater, and major hypocrite, fucking his own son, Petey Pepple. The deed was done. Dr. Drucker's role in the drama was finished. He had merely to feign ignorance, and keep supplying Perry Pepple with Silanthropine. The one thing he wouldn't do was tell Perry Pepple that Petey was cured, that he no longer had to administer the treatments. That would be too cruel. That would just kill Perry Pepple. And probably Petey, as well.
A week later it was all over the front pages. Major Headlines. Radio. Television. Liberal blogs. The actual tape was on 100 different porn sites. The authorities came to arrest Perry Pepple for pederasty and impairing the morals of a minor, but he was too quick for them. He escaped. Unfortunately he could not take Petey along with him.
They placed poor Petey with a foster family. The Fosters. Farley and Felicia Foster, who had no children of their own, and were getting on in years. They were thrilled to have a handsome boy like Petey, as their new son. They were determined to make life better for this poor victimized lad.
This did not work out well, because one day when Felicia Foster was shopping at the Purple Plains Pathway Superstore, Petey Pepple stole a revolver out of Farley Foster's top desk drawer. In Purple Plains everyone had a revolver in their top desk drawer. Purple Plains was in a Second Amendment state.
Armed with Farley Foster's revolver, Petey Pepple forced Farley Foster to fuck his neglected ass. This was armed rape, and Farley Foster reported Petey to the authorities, who collected him and had him locked up in a reformatory for wayward boys. Which was not all bad for Petey Pepple. Because he was the new boy on the cellblock, and all the other boys wanted to fuck him. Petey Pepple had discovered his true calling. His profession. He would be a Punk. Every man's fucktoy.
Petey Pepple loved being punked. So much that he couldn't bear the thought of ever leaving the reformatory. Every time he was about to be released, he would commit some new infraction, so that his sentence would be extended. When he reached his eighteenth birthday, he was transferred to the state prison, which was even better. The men there were older, more experienced, better fuckers. They had bigger dicks and they knew how to use them. Petey Pepple vowed that he would never let them release him, even if he had to let them catch him digging a tunnel, trying to escape.
Dr. Drucker became a medical celebrity. He discovered a new muscular-neurological condition, which had not been noted before. He called it Myoneuroplasia, and became world famous, even winning the Nobel Prize for Medicine one year. He was much in demand on the lecture circuit, and was often forced to leave Dierdre behind while he traveled to many many cities to speak, and to train doctors and nurses in the care of patients with this terrible condition.
He always took a room in the best hotel, and tipped the bellboy to get him a male hustler whom he would fuck silly all night long. There were also those special evenings when a particularly handsome hustler would overcome all his foolish inhibitions and fuck him silly all night long.
After high school, Donny Drucker, who had become impossibly handsome, went out to Hollywood for a summer vacation. There he was discovered by a casting agent, and was signed to become a regular on the new teen drama, Bellwatch.
Donnie became an instantaneous celebrity and heartthrob. He was worshipped by women the world over, which was wonderful for Donny, because Donny was hopelessly heterosexual.
Several years later, his younger brother, Danny, followed him to the coast, and became Donny's manager. It is said that Danny Drucker sometimes fooled around with other guys. But that is only a rumor. It cannot be proved.
Perry Pepple had long ago left Purple Plains, and, indeed, the country. He has been at different times spotted in Bangkok, where he is apparently the owner of The Spangled Speckle, one of the city's foremost Ladyboy bordellos.
People who know say that he has a special close relationship with Lin Ya Ya, the most beautiful of all of the Ladyboys, and that he has set her up in a special luxury apartment, where he returns every night to romance her. To lick her luscious implanted tits, and to fuck her beauteous boypussy. He no longer has any kind of functional family, but things have worked out well for Perry Pepple. He is happy.