You’d think that being a thief would be lucrative. After all, if breaking into people’s homes in order to steal their things didn’t make money, what would even be the point of it?
The thing people didn’t understand about it, Wilson often mused privately to himself, was that it was also a fairly expensive profession. Bribes, equipment; all of it cost money. To say nothing of the insane cut that a fence would take off the value of your haul, because where else were you going to sell stolen goods? It wasn’t like you could just put these things up on ESale, not if you wanted to stay safe.
And you paid for it in other ways as well. Heat was the big one—Wilson was lucky to have a friend on the police force who could tip him off that things were about to get hairy for him before someone came knocking on his door. He’d been careful for years, but nobody’s record was perfect. He didn’t have long, his friend said. They already knew about his existence; it was only a matter of time before he was caught on camera somewhere, before someone recognized his ID, before something small put bloodhound noses on his scent, and then there would be no stopping the cops from tracking him down. Being an unremarkable brown-haired white man whose face was generic enough to be easily forgotten could only take him so far.
So it was time to get the hell out of dodge; dodge being, in this case, the west coast. But the problem was that taking yourself entirely off-grid and fleeing for your life required a sizable upfront cash investment, and Wilson was broke.
Well, broke was an overstatement. He was paying his rent. Paying for groceries. But he needed a nest-egg. An RV, for choice; something reliable that he could travel around in, live out of. Or maybe a houseboat, although he didn’t exactly know a ton about sailing. He needed supplies, and enough cash to get him by for at least a year or two on the run.
So: limited time, large financial need. The only answer was a last, big score. A haul that would leave him with the resources he needed to get away, and ideally a little cushion beyond that. Lucky for him, Los Angeles was not short on high-value targets. The hills were ripe with the lavish estates of overconfident millionaires.
Wilson was nothing if not meticulous and thorough. He picked his target carefully, examining every detail. He watched the house for days, even posed as a consultant for a panic room installation company in order to get himself into the house, granting him a tour of the layout. As the Hollywood executive’s trophy wife led him around the enormous luxury home, Wilson’s mouth watered at the display of wealth and excess on every surface. The sheer weight of gold decorating the various trinkets scattered around the house would probably be enough to set him up for years, even if he couldn’t find any safes or lockboxes.
Wilson’s usual habit was to watch a target’s movements for two weeks before striking, but he wasn’t sure he had that kind of time for this job. He could feel the pressure of surveillance closing in on him, although it was difficult to tell how much was his own paranoia. The universe, it seemed, understood his needs; only three days after starting to watch the house, he learned of a golden opportunity. There was some kind of gala going on that Friday. The husband and wife would be away for the night, and none of the domestic staff were live-in. The house would be completely empty. A more perfect opportunity was unlikely to come again; he had to strike immediately.
So he rented a van, slapped a vinyl delivery logo on the side, and waited until dark before driving up the winding scenic roads to the estate. It was child’s play for someone with his level of experience to trick the scanner at the front gate into allowing him access, and then he was trundling his way up the gravel drive to the enormous main building.
There was a problem immediately—a car in the driveway. Wilson slowed the van to a halt behind a curve in the approach where some overhanging trees would hide him from view and turned off his headlights. No one was supposed to be here. The house’s residents had left hours ago, and should still be gone for hours more. He’d left himself ample time on either side. Was there someone he’d overlooked?
Unsure what to do, Wilson parked the van in its hidden spot and slid out of it, creeping forward until he could watch the parked car. Behind it, up the lengthy walkway to the mansion, he could see a light on inside, in one of the windows. Someone was still in there. Was there a staff member he hadn’t seen yet? The car didn’t look particularly expensive, not like something that would be owned by a film industry elite.
He didn’t have to wait long. After a moment the front door opened and a young woman left the house, checking her bag before locking the door behind her. She was on the phone.
“It’ll be fine,” she was saying to whoever was on the other end. “I’m technically supposed to stay until midnight. They paid me in advance so that I would leave just before they get back because they’re asshole snobs who don’t like to see the ‘help,’ let alone have to pay them in person. So I’d just be sitting here doomscrolling on my phone for the next few hours and then leave anyway and they wouldn’t know the difference. Whatever. He sleeps like the damn dead anyway. I wanna get there before the party’s over.”
She continued to talk as she got into the car and slammed the door behind her, but her voice was too muffled to hear after that. Wilson watched as she started up the engine and drove off, phone still clenched between her cheek and shoulder. He sighed in relief. That’s what he got for not doing full surveillance, he supposed.
He pulled into the place she had occupied and took a deep breath. Show time.
He was pretty sure he wouldn’t end up on any of the cameras based on the scouting he had managed to accomplish, but he wore a shirt with the logo of a fake delivery company just in case, and kept his wavy, shoulder-length hair tucked carefully beneath a cap where it would not leave evidence behind. A pair of leather gloves ensured his fingerprints would remain covered. He unloaded a pair of empty black duffel bags from the back of the van, slung them over his shoulders, and, after some quick work with professional lock-picks and an easy disarming of the electronic alarm system, proceeded into the house.
It was like being a kid in a candy store. He grabbed every gold-encrusted trinket he came across as he prowled his way through the house, dumping it all into the anonymous bags. By the time he’d finished with the first floor he had to return to the van for a new set of empty duffels. In the master bedroom he found the wife’s walk-in closet with an entire rack of breathtakingly expensive jewelry. Diamonds and emeralds and furs disappeared into the yawning maws of his bags, feeding their hunger for riches. Her closet alone took an entire trip to empty.
Less than an hour later he had eight full bags of miscellaneous valuables and small electronics packed into the back of the van. He hoisted the last full-sized duffel he had brought with him, debating whether it was worth trying to empty a second bag into the back of the car to bring it back in for another haul. It was probably pushing his luck; he only had another couple of rooms on the top floor left to search anyway. Better to just take whatever would fit in this one and then call it. He already had far more than he needed.
Sneaking back into the house, Wilson made his way up the stairs and past the ransacked master bedroom, down the hall towards the last two remaining closed doors. One proved to be a bathroom with little apparent value, although he did grab a few bottles of expensive-looking lotions and face creams that appeared to be unopened. And the last room-
Wilson stopped in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat.
The last room was a bedroom, and it was occupied.
A small child lay dead asleep in the center of a large bed, breathing deep and even. Wilson held his breath, his mind racing with what to do. How had he missed this? An entire additional person? There hadn’t been any sign of a child when he’d been shown around the house, had there? The wife certainly hadn’t mentioned one. There hadn’t been any toys strewn about, or other obvious tell-tale signals...
Wilson swallowed. He should close the door, back out, and head for the van. He already had what he came for; one empty duffel wasn’t going to make or break this haul. He should turn around, and pretend he’d never stumbled upon this room. The kid was clearly still asleep and hadn’t seen him. Belatedly, he realized that the woman he’d seen leaving must have been a nanny or babysitter of some kind. He was lucky she’d left when she had; if he’d been less cautious, she easily could have caught him in here.
He should turn around. He was done. He should go. And yet he stood rooted to the spot, eyes glued on the soft black hair fanned out across the child’s pillow. The child was young enough that it was difficult to discern their gender just from looking. They had clearly tossed a little in their sleep, partially throwing off their blankets and revealing cute star-covered onesie PJs, the kind from old movies with a button-up flap over the rear end for nighttime bathroom trips.
The seat of the pajamas was currently strained, undersized for the frankly enormous ass that had been somehow squeezed into it. Wilson goggled at it. How was it possible that such a small child was sporting such a juicy posterior? He licked his lips. It made him want to reach out, to investigate further...
He shouldn’t. He couldn’t. And yet...
Wilson glanced back at the stairs. Glanced at the child in the bed. They were alone together in the house, on a secluded private estate. No one around for miles.
He stepped into the room, creeping up to the bed. As the woman had promised, the child slept like the dead and didn’t stir at all as he approached. He dropped the duffel by the edge of the bed and reached into his pocket for a spare cloth that he kept in case he needed to wipe away any accidental prints he might leave behind.
The child didn’t even wake as Wilson grabbed both of the young, delicate arms and tied the wrists together behind the child’s back. It wasn’t until he had unsnapped the flap on the child’s pajama pants and reached inside to feel between the legs—a boy, it seemed—that he even began to murmur and shift.
Wilson turned the child onto his stomach, mounting the bed behind him. Reaching into the open pajama flap with both hands, he took one smooth, round buttock in each hand and squeezed. They were tantalizingly plump, like perfectly ripe fruits, each one a perfect fit for his hands.
“Hmmwha-?” the child started to say, squirming.
Wilson reached down to the duffel and took out one of the bottles of lotion he’d swiped from the bathroom. Popping the seal with one hand, he used the other to yank down his pants and underwear, exposing his hungry cock to the air. It was already hard as a rock from the tension in his body, the illicit delight of what he was about to do. He slathered the lotion onto it, dropped the little tube onto the bedsheet, and lifted the child’s hips upwards, putting him onto his knees. Then, without any further preparation, he placed his member between the bulbous spheres of the boy’s buttocks and began to force the stiff organ into the child’s anus.
The child woke up fully with a pained, wordless yell as Wilson worked his cock up the boy’s ass.
“Wh-what?” came the choked, high-pitched voice. “What’s going on? What’s happening! It hurts! Stop, it hurts!”
Wilson ignored him and continued to plunge his way inside the boy’s body, filling his rectum and slowly but steadily invading him deeper and deeper. He didn’t stop until he was fully seated inside the child, coming to rest with a sigh as his balls brushed the smooth skin of the boy’s rear end.
“Wh-who are you?” The child cried. “Stop it! What are you doing to me?”
“I’m fucking you,” Wilson told him cheerfully, and proceeded to do just that, pulling out an inch or so before plunging back in, thrusting hard and deep. He did it again, and again, and again, setting a bruising pace as he plundered the young hole.
He leaned over the child, one hand on the boy’s hip and the other holding his head down against the bed as he swiveled his hips to pound the child’s ass. It was amazing, perfect, just as tight and hot as he’d imagined. His nerves thrilled and sang as the virgin rectum squeezed his cock, milking it as though it never wanted to let go. The child wept into the pillow as Wilson raped him, filling him as he’d never been filled before.
Wilson fucked him on and on for a long while, drawing it out as much as he could, reveling in the small, supple body as he ravished it. Kneeling behind him on the bed, he poured all of his frantic, nervous energy into his motions, his hips slapping against the child’s rear end over and over with a wet, fleshy rhythm.
When he came it was blinding, his vision whiting out as his pleasure crested and his balls tightened, emptying himself into the vessel of the child’s passage. He felt hollowed out by it, as though every last drop of his lust was transferred into the unwilling flesh.
Wilson let himself slip out with a gasp, panting hard. The child was mewling and whimpering against his pillow, moisture pricked at the corners of his eyes.
Wilson flipped the boy over and grabbed one of the child’s ankles in each hand, lifting them up and pointing the boy’s ass up into the air to prevent his cum from leaking out and staining the blankets. He grinned down at the flushed, teary face.
“What’s your name, kiddo?” he asked.
The boy sniffed. “E-Elias,” he mumbled.
“Well, Elias,” Wilson said, “what did you think? Did you like having my cock up your ass?”
“No,” Elias whimpered. “What’s going on? Where are Mom and Dad? Where’s Lisa? Who are you?”
Belatedly, Wilson realized he probably shouldn’t have let the boy see his face. His hat and generic features probably meant he didn’t have to worry that much, especially since it was fairly dark and a child so young would have trouble describing him. But still...
Leaning over the child, pressing the boy’s knees up against his chest, Wilson grabbed one of the pillows from the bed and hurriedly shucked off the pillow case. Holding the light, silky fabric taut, he tied the strip around the boy’s eyes in a makeshift blindfold. Perfect.
As he started to straighten up, Wilson took in the full view of the boy beneath him, bound, blindfolded, with his legs spread and ankles pushed up against his ears. A veritable feast for the libido.
Miraculously, Wilson realized he was starting to grow hard once again. This child was something else; he’d never been ready to go again so quickly. Wilson casually rubbed his hardening member up and down along the crack between the boy’s cheeks, frotting himself up to full stiffness.
“What a cute kid you are,” he murmured. “I’ve never done something like this before, you know. But your body is so tempting, I just can’t help myself...”
Fully hard again, Wilson adjusted his angle slightly until his cock caught up against the ring of muscle it had been teasing and began to sink inside. Wilson lowered his weight down onto the child, folding him in half and pinning him that way as he once again breached the boy’s entrance.
Wilson groaned as his cock plunged back into the velvety soft flesh of the child’s hole. He kept his hands on the boy’s ankles, holding them down next to Elias’s ears as he once again claimed the young body, forcing his way inside again and again as he began to thrust. The child’s passage was just as tight as before, holding him close and dragging him deeper. Wilson fucked into him, pounding the innocent young ass from a new angle, hitting as deep inside as he could.
After a few minutes of plundering him this way, Wilson looked down to see the boy’s face scrunched up in pain, beautifully spattered with a red blush beneath the stripe of the blindfold. Belatedly he realized it was probably somewhat painful to force the boy to lie back on top of his own bound wrists like this. He winced, pulling out halfway.
After a moment’s consideration, Wilson drew himself out of the boy’s ass and shuffled off the side of the bed, still holding the child’s ankles upward to prevent leaking. Getting off the bed and standing up, he surveyed the child’s form for inspiration.
The bed was a little low, just a bit too far below crotch height to comfortably lie the boy out on his stomach. But no matter. Wilson let one of the child’s legs fall down off the edge of the bed and kept hold of the other one, lifting it straight up in the air until the child was doing a sideways split, hips raised a few inches up off the surface of the bed. Then, grabbing hold of the raised leg with one arm, he carefully lifted the child’s hole into position in front of his cock, held him in place, and slid back inside.
“Please stop,” Elias begged him again. “Please, no more! I don’t like it there!”
Wilson just laughed. “Don’t worry,” he promised, “I won’t take much longer. Your tight little hole is too good; I just can’t help myself.” So saying he resumed his thrusts, holding the boy in the air as he fucked his way into the tender orifice and buried himself deep within the child’s body.
It took a little longer than he’d promised; he fucked the child for probably another half hour or so, drawing it out so he could revel in the tight heat of him. Eventually he got bored of holding him up and just laid the boy out on his stomach, lying on top of him with both their legs hanging off the edge of the bed, giving his feet just enough purchase to truly pound the child into the mattress, slamming his hips into the boy over and over. As he did so he reached up and slid two fingers into the boy’s mouth, feeling the warm, wet insides, imagining what it would be like to fuck him there as well.
“Suck,” he commanded. “Suck on my fingers.”
To his surprise, Elias did as he was told, closing his mouth around the digits and obediently suckling them like a teat. Wilson thrilled with delight, the feeling traveling along every nerve in his body, speeding up his hips until with a last pound-pound-pound he felt himself coming inside the child a second time, filling him up like a sweet cream pastry.
Once again it took him a moment to come down from his high, seeing stars, the child’s body crushed beneath him, between his torso and the mattress. He swallowed and pulled out, standing up and leaving the child’s ruined form hanging partially off the end of the bed.
Immediately, Wilson realized his mistake. Having come inside the boy twice now, he had left behind just about the most definitive genetic evidence one could find. He’d have to figure out some way to clean the child out. Take him to the bathroom, perhaps? There had been a tub. It would take a while though, and he’d have to take off the child’s blindfold to get him out of his pajamas... it would be a whole mess, and would run the risk of him still being here when the parents returned home. But he’d have to chance it. After all, there was nothing else he could-
His eyes fell on the mostly empty duffel bag sitting waiting beside the bed. He gasped at the sheer audacity of his own thoughts.
But then... he was already going on the run, wasn’t he? Would it really be such a bad thing, to bring a little treat for himself? A reward, going into his retirement? It wasn’t that much harder to disappear two people than one. A scene unfolded behind his eyes, like a prophetic vision: a life of leisure on the road, driving from RV park to RV park; the young child kept beside him like a toy or appliance, a ready hole whenever the whim took him to reach over and plunge inside, raised to want nothing but to please him, trained for maximizing his pleasure.
Wilson’s throat felt dry. His hands trembled slightly as he re-fastened the back flap of the child’s pajamas and lifted him up off the bed. With a little maneuvering, Elias fit perfectly inside the large duffel bag as though he’d been made to fit there. Wilson zipped the luggage up behind him.
He took a moment to re-make the bed, arranging it neatly as though the child had never been there and checking it over for any last telltale forensic evidence. When he was satisfied with its cleanliness he lifted the strap of the now-heavy duffel over his shoulder and headed back down the stairs. The boy squirmed slightly as he was carried, but Wilson had taken a moment to bind the child’s ankles in addition to his wrists, and there was little he could do to struggle.
Wilson’s feelings were an astonishing mix of triumph and paranoia as he placed the final duffel in the back of the van with the rest of his haul. He took a moment to gaze at his stolen bounty, all the bags stuffed completely full. It was more than he’d ever imagined he’d get from such a venture, ready to set him up for life.
And even if the money that he got from selling all the valuables didn’t last him as long as he suspected it would, Wilson realized with a slow grin that he had also picked up another potential source of income. How long would it take to train Elias to suck cock well enough to please a customer? Probably not too long; he was still young and would no doubt learn quickly.
Thief was a profession he was about to leave behind, hopefully for good. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to try his hand at pimp next.