Chapter 1

I awoke rather groggy, to put it mildly, not to mention with a severe headache, one worse than any I had ever known in my life. Mind you, I had never been hungover before, though I got the distinct feeling that this was exactly that scenario after bowing to the porcelain god a couple of times. I then really, really had to piss, and so I did, almost missing the damn bowl twice.

I then turned to wash my hands and realized that it was in a vanity ... That was when it occurred to me that the only vanities in my home were Mom’s ... and the one that I was forced to share with my sisters. This was NOT either vanity, which meant that I wasn’t home at all! Where the fuck was I, then? I looked around the master bedroom adjacent to said vanity and saw a king-size double bed with a naked woman lying there in all of her raven beauty. That wasn’t possible, was it?

Trying to make sense of everything, I hit the shower and noticed a massive supply of feminine care and hygiene products, typical of a rather gynocentric bath and shower arrangement. I was already nude, so I just turned on the water jets and waited for the refreshing hot stream to soak my flesh. I heard footsteps, rather soft ones, in fact, and then I heard someone pulling on the shower curtain. The brunette that was on the bed was right in front of me, just as naked as before and now even sexier awake than she was asleep.

She stepped into the shower without asking me, it being her place perhaps, and then started washing my skin as if it was old hat to her. I stood there in shock, even as my boner paid very close attention to her actions. She looked down, licked her lips, bit her bottom lip, and grinned wickedly at me. Then she handed me the same puff that she just used, gestured for me to put more body wash on it, and invited me silently to soap her up, too.

“Morning, babe. Thanks for last night ... it was terrific, especially for a virgin! Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. It’s not like I can put a fifteen-year old boy down on a birth certificate as the father, anyway. I’d go to jail, and even though they tend to give ladies a slap on the wrist, unlike what they do to guys, that would be too brazen for them not to make an example of me. One can only take luck and privilege so far.

“Anyway, how about some breakfast and a little hair of the dog that bit ya, hon? Last night’s supper clearly went to waste, birthday boy. Literally down the drain. You need some aspirin, too, I think. You look worse than I did in my groupie days! Thanks for the baby batter. I owe you! At my age, got to shut that biological clock up, by hook or by crook! As it is, by the time our kid reaches your age, I’ll be fifty! By the time they graduate, I’ll be fifty-three!

“Oh, look at me, being a chatty Kathy here. Where are my manners? I’m Katrina Vanderwaal. From Rochester, New York. Family’s been there for centuries, since it was the Dutch colony of New Netherland, you see. Old money. We were ... patroons ... landed gentry, back then. Unlike some other families, we kept most of our wealth and at times even increased it. Well, except for that one branch that were Copperheads in the Civil War,” the stunning cougar informed me with a steamy lip lock.

We quickly wrapped up the shower and dried each other off, after which Katrina led me to the dining room, both of us still very nude. I couldn’t believe my eyes, as she pranced around the kitchen in the buff, let her luxuriant hair flow freely, poured me some coffee, and dropped a little rum in there for the hell of it. She did the same for herself and then scrambled some eggs with spinach together for both of us (a low-carb breakfast that I highly recommend). I was floored by her cooking skills, too.

“Oh, fuck, honey, you are quite the tall drink of water, aren’t you, stud? Is it okay if I refresh your memory about last night? I still can’t believe that they took the deal, anyway. It’s not often that a lad’s mother or babysitter or whoever, still not clear which, sells her son or nephew or whatever to a perfect stranger. I guess that everyone does have their price, am I right?

“But ... yup ... don’t expect any angry or worried texts from Mom or whatever. I bought and paid for you, sweetie ... fair and square. You’re mine now. You belong to me now. A sound investment, if you ask me. Why marry some douchebag when you can simply purchase a boyfriend? I was looking for a virgin, too, so I could have the chance to free you from such an embarrassing status.

“Yep, I’d settle in if I were you ... you’re kinda stuck with me, baby. I got you drunk and high last night to help you relax about your new situation ... and lower your inhibitions, of course. Also, it tends to help my cause that teenage boys are basically walking hormones, right? All of that wonderful, manly testosterone, all of those sweet, sweaty pheromones! So, yeah, just don’t worry or fret about your old life. It’s all behind you, babe,” Katrina explained to my complete shock.

“So ... I’m your ... slave? Prisoner? Fosterling? I just want to know my status here. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful ... you fucked me and fed me ... I just want to be sure of what to expect of my life and future here. You’re not into whips, chains, and dungeons, are you? Kinky stuff like that, not to shame you, of course,” I shook my head, trying to figure this all out.

“Well, technically, I’m your kidnapper, but effectively ... I’m your foster mom or guardian or something of that kind. I want you to help me out here ... and I’ll make your life here very nice and cozy. When in public, just call me... ‘Aunt Kat’ or ‘Aunt Katrina.’ I’d never claim to be your mother. That would be too easily disproved and draw too much attention to key details best avoided now.

“So, here’s how this will go down. Don’t lose hope just yet, okay? Don’t think that I’m gonna keep and trap you, against your will, for the rest of your life. I want ... babies, okay? I’m rich and I can afford to set up a college or other kind of fund for you to ... make your life easier after this. All I ask is that you fuck me ... a lot ... and hang on my arm ... in public, play the beloved nephew, but in private, be my passionate lover.