Shota Cock Garden Party story I found
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The year is 2263. One hundred sixty-nine years ago, the last grown man on earth perished as the result of the Shota Virus pandemic. Males who had not yet entered puberty at that time or were born after faced a different fate. The virus lays dormant in their bodies. While not fatal in this state it still has a drastic impact on its host. The plague has caused several drastic alterations to male physiology. The average height of an adult male was greatly reduced from the pre-plague era where most men grew to over 6 feet now they are lucky to reach 5 feet in height. Their build is slender with little muscle mass, no amount of healthy nutrition or weight lifting can change this. Men are now simply incapable of the physiques of times past. Beards and all other body hair have become extinct though there are rumors that some Shota can still get a bit of "peach fuzz" on their chins. Also, every male born is impotent and sterile, and their nature is asexual. The one side benefit of the virus is that age appears to go into stasis for Shotas. Their hair no longer greys, their faces are free of wrinkles, stiff joints and other old age related hindrances are now a thing only females experience. A Shota's age is now measured in Count up years where they seemingly do not age a single minute. Puberty without fail starts on every boy's 13th birthday and sixty years later or plus 60 as it as commonly referred to virus emerges from hibernation and swiftly kills its host. So the new numbering system for a man of eighteen would be 13 plus 5. All new children are now asexually created in a lab. Because their gender is chosen at conception, the world's population of 3.3 billion less than five percent is male. Now one Shota seeks to become a real man.
"Happy Count-up day, Greg." A computer-simulated voice chimed as I rolled out of bed after a night of fitful sleep.
"Thirteen plus thirteen," I murmured in a low flustered voice. "Not that it matters for boys... Always a boy never a man."
I had hated my count-up day since the first time I realized that my technical age had ceased to increase. What a bland term for the years following a male's thirteenth birthday. A cruel joke of being chronologically and mentally an adult but physically child.
It had been one hundred and sixty-nine years since the shota plague wiped out every human male who had entered or passed through puberty. At first, it had been hoped that once it's initial run, the epidemic had made itself extinct, seeing as it's hosts had all perished. Subsequent tests had shown that it had mutated into a different nonlethal form in the surviving population. Unfortunately, this new syndrome had changed what passed as an adult male. Now after passing through puberty y chromosome bearing humans were unable to put on muscle in an appreciable amount. The average height of an adult male had gone down from six-foot-tall to barely surpassing five foot one inch. Beards had become extinct and any body hair was rarer than albino alligators. And worst of all impotence had left every man with a useless cock.
I entered my private bath and started brushing my teeth in preparation for the day. After gargling a copious amount of mouthwash, I walked across my dorm room and groggily plopped down at my lab station. Through half-open lids, I admired the vial of red liquid that was the final answer to my doctoral thesis. "If this works, I'll be the first boy to get a stiffy in over a century." I giggled as much from sleep-deprived hysteria as from my poor attempt at humor. I carefully placed the bottle in a foam case and continued preparing for the defense of my dissertation.
I picked up my toothbrush and placed a healthy amount of toothpaste on the bristles. As I worked the brush back in forth over my I wonder how a woman will react to seeing it stiff and erect.
The old contraband recordings I had seen painted a picture of women being driven to wanton extremes by a virile penis. Females of bygone eras would do anything to get fucked by an alpha male. I had seen them pretend to be unable to pay for services they had just purchased, easily tricked by men pretending to be movie agents, and some would even fuck their close relatives.
I stepped out of the shower, water dripping off my flesh. I towel dried myself as I giddily thought about how next year at this time, I would be a twenty-seven-year-old man. I ran a hand over my smooth chin, imagining how it would feel with a few days old stubble growing upon it.
My walk to the train station was a blur. Lascivious fantasies filled my head, causing me to make a wrong turn more than once. Once gotten my head out of the clouds and found the subway station and safely boarded the train car that would take me to the University, I couldn't help but look around at all the different women sharing the carriage with me. Not surprisingly, I was the only male riding today. All pregnancies were now asexual, so if a woman could, she chose for her child to be female. Only ten percent of fetuses had shota syndrome severe enough that they could not be genetically modified. Of those, only one percent would be born male.
A sexy blonde walked up to me and mussed my hair. "Don't see a cute boy every day. Tell me, how old are you?"
I stared up at her. Her golden locks curled around her face-framing it perfectly. She wore a form-fitting red pencil skirt and tight white dress shirt, both of which worked to accentuate her amazing figure. Her dark hose shaped her legs just the way I liked. As I gazed into her radiant blue eyes, I realized I had yet to answer.
"Plus thirteen..." I stammered in response after an awkward pause.
She gave me a knowing grin. "Double lucky thirteen. So, are you going to University?"
"Yeah, I'm a graduate student. I'm supposed to defend my dissertation today." I replied, trying to deepen my voice like some of the ancient actors I idolized.
"A doctor," She stated with just a mild hint of shock. "Not too many boys try for something so substantial."
"Yes, well... I'm not most boys." I retorted as I involuntarily gripped the case holding my life's work.
This statement was more accurate than she could have guessed. I was the only male on the planet whose mother had been purposely chosen him to be so. My mother, Trista Hart, the most celebrated geneticist alive, thought she had found the cure the shota syndrome. She modified my genome and dubbed me the first-ever "clean" baby. Much to her disappointment, I was stuck with an impotent dick and a body incapable of the classic masculine physique like every other male child.
"You certainly are more handsome than most," she answered with a mischievous smirk. "Whenever you are free come look me up. I would love to study a subject like you." She pushed a business card in my hand before sliding out the now open subway doors and disappearing into the crowd.
I looked at the gold embossed card that had just been pressed into my hand. In a fancy cursive hand, it stated that the hot blond who had moments ago been flirting with me was one Carla Creed a life study artist.
"Life study?" I mumbled quizzically to myself as I hurried along to my appointed trial.
Several hours later, I emerged from my interrogation dejected and defeated. I walked to the boy's room at the end of the hall and locked myself in the last stall. Tears welled in my eyes as I clutched my case to my chest. Those bitches didn't even listen! They barely even looked at my papers. All they wanted to know was what makes me think I can succeed where Trista had failed? As though I'm not intimately familiar with her work. Fuck, I am her work. A failure at birth and a failure now!
I stormed out of the stall and washed my tear-stained face. My eyes were bloodshot, and visage was blood-red with the rage I was feeling. "I'll show them."
I opened the case and pulled forth the vial. Its crimson liquid gleamed in the harsh fluorescent light. I popped the top and downed the serum before I could talk myself out it.
I don't know what I was expecting, but I felt absolutely no change. "Nadda, I guess those bitches were right. I should have felt something... anything almost immediately."
Depressed, I let out a long exhale before gathering myself and starting toward the exit. When suddenly, a sharp pain tore through my abdomen. I fell to the floor, feeling as if I was about to burst open.
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