“Thank you for taking care of him, Mr. Sanderson,” said the young mother distractedly. “I really do appreciate it.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all. Since my kids moved out, it gets lonely around here anyway. A little babysitting is no problem. It’s nice to have a little youthful energy in the place.” Sanderson glanced down at the tousled hair of the young boy whose hand he was holding. The boy was eagerly looking around the house, as though he was just waiting for his mother to leave so he could take off and investigate every corner of the place.
“Are you sure?” asked the boy’s mother. “I feel bad imposing like this, and for so long...”
“Nonsense,” the old man assured, waving a hand at her. “Take the night off. Enjoy your dinner, and the opera. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of fun, and he’ll be fast asleep by the time you come back.”
“Thank you so much.” The woman’s voice was relieved. “Well then.” She knelt down in front of her son, putting her hands on his shoulders and looking into the boy’s eyes. “You be a good boy, okay, and do what Mr. Sanderson tells you.” She kissed his forehead, and stood. “I’ll be on my way then. I’ll try to be back by ten tonight if I can.”
“Take your time,” Mr. Sanderson called after her as she swung her purse over her shoulder and flounced out the door.
When it had slammed behind her, Mr. Sanderson smiled down at the boy once more. “Well now,” he said, “welcome to my house, young man.”
The boy looked up at him and smiled shyly through his bangs. Sanderson echoed the smile: it was perfect.
“How ‘bout this, son?” he asked in a low, excited voice. “I have a super special secret project I’m working on, and if you promise to keep it a secret, I’ll let you help! How does that sound?”
The boy looked eager, but still nervous. One of his little hands fisted the hem of his shirt. “What kinda project?” he asked in a small voice.
“You promise to keep it secret?” Sanderson asked him. “It’s very important.”
The boy nodded, and Sanderson smiled. “I’m making a movie. Don’t you want to be in a movie?”
The boy's eyes widened, and his expression became rapturous. “Really?” he squeaked. “Really, could I?”
“Sure can,” the old man assured him. “Why don’t you come on downstairs to the den, and I’ll show you.”
With the boy leading the way more than following him, Sanderson made his way towards the stairs that led down to his refurbished basement. The boy took the stairs two at a time in bounding leaps that looked like he might break his neck, but when he reached the bottom he halted, suddenly shy again.
Sanderson smiled as he came down the stairs. “Son, I’d like you to meet my friend John Doe. He’s going to be starring in the movie with you, isn’t that right, John?”
The large, well-muscled young man smiled, leaning back into the couch on one side of the room. “Sure is,” he said with a wide grin. “Hey there Squirt. You ready to make a movie?”
The boy nodded, some of his earlier enthusiasm returning, although he still eyed “John” warily.
“Well now, here’s our set,” said Mr. Sanderson, gesturing to a brightly-lit corner of the room, where several video cameras were already set up, pointing at a pale background. “Let me tell you the story.” The young boy nodded, eyes wide, and looked at him eagerly.
“Now, you’re gonna be a little Wild Child of the jungle, okay? Like Tarzan. You know Tarzan?” The boy shook his head. Sanderson frowned slightly. “How about Mowgli, then? From the Jungle Book?” This time the boy nodded. Sanderson echoed the nod in satisfaction. “Good, good. So you’re like Mowgli. You’re a little kid who grew up in the jungle, all by yourself, with just the animals, so you think like an animal, right? And John here has come into the jungle to capture you, so you’re trying to escape from him. Sounds exciting, right?”
“Cool!” chimed the boy. He made his way in front of the camera, looking around the blank, white set. “It doesn’t look like a jungle, though.”
“That’s called special effects,” said Sanderson. “We’ll add it later so that it will look like jungle. For now-“ he reached over and idly flipped on the record button on one of the cameras, “-why don’t you take all your clothes off?”
The boy frowned. “Why?”
“Because,” said Sanderson, “you’re a jungle child, remember? You think you’re an animal, and animals don’t wear clothes. Of course.”
The boy did not reply, but began to disrobe in the middle of the set, tossing his clothes carelessly off to the side. The camera watched him lovingly.
“Now John here is really hot, because he’s been searching for you in the jungle all day, so he’s gonna take his shirt off.” John stood from the couch and shucked off his shirt eagerly, as Sanderson walked around and turned on each of the cameras, recording the scene from a variety of angles.
“Now, whatever you do, don’t leave the white part of the floor here,” said Sanderson. “Otherwise we won’t be able to get you on camera, okay?” The boy nodded. Over the boy’s head, Sanderson said to John, “I think this’ll mostly be for stills anyway, so try to get me the best angles you can. But if some of the footage turns out good we can use shots for action too. Just see what you can do.” John nodded.
“Alright,” said Sanderson once more to the boy. “John’s gonna chase you around a bit, and then he’s gonna catch you, and I want to see you wriggle around and try to get away like you’re a caught wolf, got it?”
“Got it!” said the boy. Sanderson smiled and looked at John to check that he was ready. “Action!” he called.
John bounded onto the set and began to chase the boy in circles. The boy shrieked with pleasure and ran from him, going around and around until John darted sideways to capture him, practically falling onto the boy, shoving them both onto hands and knees. He wrapped his arms around the child’s waist and thrust the crotch of his jeans—already taut with erection—against the boy’s bare bottom. The child wriggled and struggled as he was told, even imitating a wolf howl, and his movements rubbed his rear end back and forth against John’s straining cock, even as John started making little thrusting motions against the boy with his hips.
Finally, tired with having the boy on all fours, John lay flat, effectively pinning the boy under his weight, and continued with his light thrusts against the young, naked ass. Sanderson let this continue for a minute or so before calling, “Cut!” and halting John’s actions.
“This is pretty good,” said Sanderson, not bothering to stop any of the cameras, “but I think it’s gotten really hot in the jungle by now, and John should take his pants off too. All his clothes. Son, why don’t you help him out?”
John smiled and sat up, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the zipper. From where he had been splayed on his stomach, the boy sat up and obediently reached forward to help John pull his jeans down. Sanderson checked the cameras to make sure he was getting a good angle. He smiled down at the camera’s viewscreen as they got John’s jeans and underwear down over his hips and the man’s large, erect cock sprung eagerly up into the free air, nearly whacking the boy in the nose.
“Hey, Son,” said Sanderson with a chuckle. “Isn’t John’s penis funny, all standing up like that? I think that looks pretty silly.”
The boy joined him in laughing. “Yeah,” he giggled.
“What do you think that looks like?” asked Sanderson. “I think it looks like a microphone. I think you should grab it and sing into it, nice and loud.”
The boy giggled again and wrapped a small hand around the base of John’s shaft, opening his mouth wide over the tip and singing a few nonsense syllables. John and Sanderson both laughed heartily.
“I think it looks like a popsicle,” said John, "and you should suck on it."
The boy laughed. “You don’t suck on a penis!” he said. “You don’t put it in your mouth—that would be weird! That’s where you pee!”
“That would be weird,” Sanderson agreed. “But why don’t you just pretend? You can stick your tongue out like you’re licking it.”
The child seemed nonplussed, but he stuck out his tongue nevertheless, making exaggerated licking gestures with his head over the penis. With a grin, John thrust his hips forward, shoving his cock up against the boy’s tongue just as the youth was coming up for another swipe. The boy backed up, sputtering, and made a face. John’s grin widened.
“Sorry about that,” he said, with exaggerated sincerity. “I didn’t mean to.” He finished taking off his jeans, and tossed them aside on top of the boy’s clothes. Then he turned to Sanderson. “Well, Mr. Director? What now?”
“Now, I think you go back to trying to capture him,” said Sanderson. “Since you’re both on the floor already, why don’t you crawl around, like wolves?”
The boy immediately sprang up onto all fours and began growling, panting, and making small howling noises. He started to run around in circles, as they had been before, and John chased him.
The chase was not as long this time. It was difficult for them to move quickly on all fours, and John soon became impatient. Once again he lunged to the side and threw himself over the boy, this time slipping his cock happily between the boy’s legs and thrusting against his thighs. One hand he kept on the boy’s hip, the other grasped the child’s ribs. While the boy squirmed and wriggled below him, John swiveled his hips in and out, in and out again, pretending to fuck the boy.
Then, without warning, he took the hand from the boy’s ribs and placed it in the center of his back, shoving his chest down to the floor. With the hand that had been on the boy’s hips he grabbed his penis and aligned it so that the length of the shaft lay within the cleft between the boy’s butt cheeks. He replaced his hand on the boy’s hips once more and began to thrust again, rubbing himself along the boy’s crack, the small swipe of the boy’s saliva from earlier easing the friction of it.
The boy started to protest in a somewhat muffled voice, but neither man paid him much attention. Sanderson was at one of the cameras, focusing it close up on the movement of John’s cock as it slid along the boy’s crack, thrusting back and forth, back and forth, pulsing with its want of the boy.
Before the boy’s protests could become too great, John was already finishing. He leaned back, spread the boy’s cheeks open with one hand, and placed the head of his cock directly against the revealed pucker of the boy’s asshole. It was much too dry and too dangerous for him to thrust into the boy, but he did manage to nudge the very tip of his cock into the tight ring of flesh. His fingers let the boy’s butt cheeks fall shut around the head of his cock as his hand returned to stroking his organ, twice, three times, four, and he came, semen splattering out from the boy’s ass, covering the young, smooth flesh in pale cum. The boy cried out in protest once more at the hot, sticky sensation as John’s seed dripped down the back of his thighs and pooled behind his knees.
“Enough,” said Sanderson, when he was certain they had enough of the shot. “Now John, that wasn’t very nice. You alright, Son?”
The boy whimpered and sniffled, sitting up as John got off of him. “He peed on me!” he protested.
“I’m sorry about that,” said Sanderson in a soothing voice. “He’s a big dummy like that sometimes. Let’s pick a different movie and do something else, huh? And we won’t let John do it with us unless he agrees to be less of a dummy, okay?”
“Sorry, Mr. Director,” said John, grinning wolfishly.
“How does that sound?” Sanderson asked the boy. “We’ll do an even more fun movie. I have some really nice costumes you can try on!”
“Really?” said the boy, his eyes losing some of their skepticism and beginning to shine once more.
Sanderson looked at his watch. Another five hours before they had to expect the boy’s mother back. “Oh yes,” he said. "In fact, I've thought of just the thing. Come with me."
He led the boy over to a large chest in the corner of the room, and opened it. Inside were a number of costumes, ranging from the more innocent school uniforms to straight-out gimp suits. In one corner of the chest was also a small collection of props, only some of which were sex toys.
Mr. Sanderson drew out a pair of full-body pajamas, light blue with a pattern of stars and moons in nightcaps. After a moment's thought, he also drew out a headband with a pair of cat ears on it, and a life-size rubber rat from the prop corner.
"Alright," he said, handing the pajamas to the boy, "why don't you go back to the set and put this on." The article was an old-fashioned one-piece, with little footie slippers attached to the bottom, and a small buttoned flap over his rear meant to be opened to allow the child to go to the bathroom.
"Now," he said as the boy got back in front of the still-running cameras and began to put on the pajamas, "this is going to be a comedy, like those funny cartoons about the cat and mouse, okay?" The boy nodded, thrusting an arm into a sleeve.
"John is going to be our cat," Mr. Sanderson said, tossing the pair of cat ears over to John, "and he's chasing this here rat." He held up the rubber rat. "He's chasing it round and round in circles in the middle of the night, when you wake up from bed to get a glass of water. So you're walking past this chase, but whoops! You've left the flap of your pajama bottoms open. And the clever little rat sees a perfect hiding spot and jumps right up your butt, with its little tail hanging out!" The boy giggled, and Sanderson smiled. "Isn't that silly?" he asked self-deprecatingly. The boy nodded.
"Anyway, so the cat knows that the mouse is hiding in your butt, so then he chases you around the room! I think that will be very funny. Do you think you can do it?"
"That's really silly," said the boy. "Why would a mouse hide in my butt? He wouldn't fit!"
"A nice warm, dark little hole is just what every mouse is looking for," John interjected, sounding smug. Sanderson sent him a warning look.
"John, will you behave yourself this time?" he asked.
"Of course!" said John, with patently false sincerity. "I want to be in the movie!"
"Okay," said Sanderson. "Then let's start. John, you'll be chasing this around in circles." He tossed the rubber rat to John. "Son, you stand over there and I'll point to you when you're supposed to walk across. Don't forget to undo the bottom of your pajamas."
The boy obediently unsnapped the pajama bottoms, letting the back flap fall open and exposing his small, pink behind, still slightly sticky from the drying cum.
John, still naked and half-hard again already, got onto his hands and knees in the center of the shooting area, cat ears perched jauntily on his head, and proceeded to move around in circles, holding the rubber rat in one hand. He made some exaggerated meowing noises, for the boy's benefit.
Sanderson pointed to the boy, who frowned. "You didn't say action!" the boy protested.
"Terribly sorry," said Sanderson. "You're right, of course. Action!" He pointed again to the boy, who began to walk across the stage.
When he reached the midway point, John stopped moving and lifted his hand with the rubber rat, as though it was jumping, pointing the arc of it towards the boy's butt. When he reached the child's rear, he placed the tip of the toy's nose at the pucker of the boy's anus, as he had done with his cock earlier.
"Cut!" yelled the director, not turning off the cameras. "Now, we'll need to put the rat up your butt."
The boy frowned. "It won't fit! Can't you do it later, like the jungle?"
"Unfortunately, we'll need a good tight shot of this," said Sanderson. "And it will fit, if we do some special stuff first. Do you mind? It might be a little uncomfortable, but afterward it'll look really good in the movie, I promise. You want to be a movie star, don't you?"
The boy nodded, and Sanderson smiled. "Alright then. You kneel in the center of the set there, with your butt up in the air, and John will help you get ready."
The boy did as he was told, knees, elbows and upper body flush to the floor, little rear end hoisted into the air. John stood, moving off the side to grab a small bottle of lubricant from the edge of a table. He brought it with him to the set, and, in view of the cameras, coated his hands and the rat liberally with the stuff.
Putting the bottle down, John used his left hand to hold the boy's bottom still, peeling back the butt cheek with his thumb, and pushed his right pointer finger slowly but steadily into the boy's anus.
The boy yelped. "Stop it! That's weird!" he said.
"It's okay," said Sanderson reassuringly, as he tightened the focus of one of the cameras directly onto the point of penetration. "You'll get used to it quickly, I promise."
As he said this, John began to thrust in and out with the single finger, making a wet, squelching noise. Sanderson made his way to a console at the back of the room, checking to be sure the audio levels were picking it up. It seemed to be coming in clearly on the camera closest to the stage.
At the apex of one of his thrusts, John added a second finger, spreading them a little to increase the width of the penetration as the digits delved back into the boy. This produced a small whimper, but no more protest. Sanderson was pleased. He went back to checking the cameras—a good wide shot of the entire affair, close-ups of each of the participant's faces, and of course the all-important penetration shot.
Sanderson noticed that John's hips were making minute thrusting motions in rhythm with the movements of his fingers, and wondered if there was some plausible excuse they could use to let John fuck the boy. The child had already allowed them far more liberty than Sanderson had expected.
John added a third finger to his thrusts, a sick grin spreading over his face. He glanced down at the rat on the ground next to them. The toy was made from a single piece of rubber, its feet and ears laid close to the body so that they were really no more than slightly raised lumps on the overall figure. The long, worm-like tail snaked out behind it. It was life-sized for a large rat, and not atypical of an average-sized dildo. It would do nicely, Sanderson thought.
Apparently John's thoughts ran similarly, because he soon withdrew his fingers and picked up the rat. "Here we go, kiddo," he said. "This might feel a little tight, but bear with it." He pressed the nose of the creature against the pucker, and began to push.
The nose and head of the toy slid in fairly easily, as that point of the rat was fairly narrow. When it began to thicken about the creature's waist, however, it became more difficult. John made small, tight thrusting motions with the toy, pushing it in a fraction deeper each time. He even turned it back and forth, like a screw, to ease its entrance.
The boy groaned, his little fists clenched in the pale fabric covering the floor. His little face was flushed, his expression screwed up with the effort of not crying out.
The boy's rear cheeks were shining with oil, smeared from John's hands as he used thumb and forefinger to pry the boy's buttocks as far apart as he could, widening the pucker of muscle that was the boy's anus and exposing the gory details of the penetration to the camera. The lens eagerly soaked in the stretch of the muscle, the way the rubber disappeared under the ridge of flesh, and the periodic convulsing of the boy's anus that served to swallow an additional millimeter or two of the toy each time.
Bit by gradual bit the toy was forced into the tight hole, until finally the widest point of the rat—its hips—popped inside, and the rest slid behind it in a rush, swallowed greedily into the boy, leaving nothing more than the long thin tail snaking comically out from between the boy's cheeks.
His task complete, John took the boy's hips and angled him slightly so that his butt was directly facing the camera. He took one buttock in each hand and spread the cheeks back as wide as he could, giving the camera a straight-on, detailed view of the asshole and the dangling sign of its contents.
Finally he let the cheeks fall closed, giving them one quick push together to tighten them around the toy for good measure, and patted them lightly, sitting back. "Okay," he said to the boy, "we're all done."
Belatedly, Sanderson noticed tear tracks standing out on the child's cheeks as the boy tried to sit up, but the child wiped his nose and sniffled, trying not to show his distress. He groaned as he moved, the toy shifting around inside him.
"Can you stand?" Sanderson asked. "John is supposed to chase you around now."
The boy tried obediently, rising shakily to his feet, but then fell to one knee the moment he tried to take a step.
"Oh my," said Sanderson, not a trace of distress in his voice. "Well, can you at least crawl around? That would still be pretty funny, I think."
The boy dropped to hands and knees once more and began to move, whimpering periodically as the toy moved inside him. He could not move quickly, and John followed him only half-heartedly, simply allowing the boy to parade himself around in a circle for the cameras, wincing around his obviously stuffed ass, rat tail swinging down over his pajamas.
Finally, taking pity, Sanderson said, "Alright then, I think we have enough of that. Do you want us to take it out now?" The child nodded emphatically, and without being instructed, resumed his position in the center of the set with his ass in the air.
John moved back behind him once more, once again spreading the cheeks open with his fingers. Instead of merely pulling on the rat tail however, as Sanderson had expected him to, John worked a thumb and forefinger of one hand into the boy's anus, slipping them in alongside the rat and grabbing the toy. He pulled it backwards, drawing a low groan from the boy, until he had drawn it back past its widest point. When enough of the toy was showing for him to get a good grip on it, John grasped the base of the rat and began to fuck the boy with it, thrusting it in and out at a steady pace, his hips once again working sympathetically in time with his motions.
The boy gave another whimpering, wordless cry, but this only caused John to speed up his movements. He made the thrusts longer, drawing the toy out almost completely before plunging it back in. As he did this he raised his hips, sitting up on his knees, bringing his stiff cock closer to the boy, and Sanderson realized what he was going to try to do.
John placed his cock right next to the boy's anus, and pulled the toy all the way out. A moment later he thrust it back in, as deep as he could while still keeping a hold on it. A second time, he pulled the toy all the way out of the boy's anus, nudged the nose back inside, and plunged the toy forward. And once more, yanked the toy out. But the third time he let the toy drop and pushed his own cock forward, sliding it into the boy's well-lubricated anus.
John was quite well-hung, but if the boy noticed the substitution, he didn't say anything. John pulled all the way out once more, continuing the pattern, and then plunged back inside. Twice more he did this, the camera loving the way the boy's anus parted reluctantly around the head of John's cock before giving in and greedily swallowing the shaft. Finally John switched his pace, no longer pulling completely out of the boy but fucking him now in long, slow strokes. One of his hands came to rest on top of the boy's butt, at the base of his spine, steadying himself.
The boy made a soft sound of protest once more. "Just get it out!" he whimpered.
"It's coming out," John grunted in reply. "Oh, don't worry. Just a little more and it'll all come out." He began thrusting in earnest now; quick, sharp jabs that rocked the boy forward with their motion. The boy's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, head pointed down, and so he did not notice the rat toy lying forgotten by his foot as John fucked him.
Sanderson felt his own cock stirring, but didn't touch it. 'There'll be plenty of time for that later during the editing process,' he told himself sternly. He knew he wouldn't have time to finish before John did.
And sure enough, a minute or so later John stilled, cock buried balls-deep inside the boy, and his testicles twitched and pulsed as his seed flowed into the boy's rectum. He pulled out at the very end, the last pulse splattering the boy's cheeks as before, even as the cum left inside the boy began to dribble down the boy's inner thigh.
John gave the boy's cheeks a last, genial pat as before, and sat back. "Okay kiddo," he said, "it's out."
The boy sagged down to the floor, his breathing heavy, and lay on his side, eyes still tightly shut. Sanderson focused the lens of one of the cameras on the boy's tired, red anus, recording the trickle of cum as it leaked out of him.
"You rest a little," he told the boy. "We'll get back to filming later. John and I have to decide what scene we want to do next anyway. Maybe something with pirates and sword-fighting."
The boy didn't respond verbally, but his eyes flicked open with interest, and Sanderson saw with glee that they hadn't lost him yet.
That evening, when the boy's mother came to retrieve him, an hour later than expected, the boy was fast asleep on the couch. She smiled at him and tousled his hair. "How was he?" she asked.
"A veritable angel," said Sanderson. "He did everything he was told and was a perfect darling. We just gave him a quick bath while we were waiting for you, and then he fell asleep there on the couch." Sanderson smiled to himself, remembering his own soapy fingers slipping inside the boy, emptying him of all traces of their earlier adventures. "He was plum tuckered out, I guess. How was your evening?"
She smiled. "Oh, it was very lovely, thank you. I haven't had a night out in a long time."
"Well, maybe you should do it more often," said Sanderson. "I honestly don't mind looking after the boy. We had a lot of fun today. Bring him over any time."
The mother looked surprised, but pleased. "Really? Thank you so much! Actually, in that case, would next week be a problem? Same time?"
Sanderson's grin was wide and wolfish. "I'll be expecting you, then."