The Three Billy-Boys Gruff

The Three Billy-Boy's Gruff
A Pervy Tale of The Steamworld

Chapter One - Willie Gruff

The follow contains scenes of an explicit nature (buttsex mainly), many poorly written sentences, and what the author thinks is conkey, but it really an Australian dialect. Reader discretion is advised.

This Story is dedicated to Captain B.J. Smethwick (Mrs.)

 The London Skyline was cold and dark on that morning, the fog hung like a pall over the city, covering it like a thick fog. A thousand deals, murders, thefts and exploitations were happening at the very moment that young Willie Gruff ran down the alley. His long, lean legs were covered in sweat as he ran. His young, strong heart beating powerful in his thin chest. The chair of the watch he had stolen flapped and beat on his fist as he pumped his long, thin arms. He could still hear the Bobbies behind him, but they were growing evermore distant and further behind as well.

 Willie, a well known ducker and diver, made his way through the labyrinth of alleys, but soon realized he was lost. A combination of the thick fog, and his panic at finding the coppers so near, had caused him to run into a part of the city he didn't recognize. He didn't want to come to a main street, and so kept to the alleys as much as he could. After all, there were women out there, and as beautiful a young boy as Willie was, women always wanted something from him. All too frequently, they didn't want to pay him either, and Willie was a rent boy with a habit to feed.

 He found himself near the river, with his hands feeling numb and his veins aching. He would need his stuff soon, or he would spend another night up some society woman's horrible, horrible body. The idea of quim made him ill, but the thought of not sucking on the wooden dick that Mister Ho offered was even worse. He looked at the watch in his hand, and wondered if it could be sold for enough money to get him into the opium den.

 As he walked along the river, he came upon an old and disused bridge. Normally there were tramps under a bridge like this, but here there was only one man. He was tall, muscular, clean shaven and well dressed by the standards Willie understood. The top hat was battered, the long coat was patched, but Willie was not a remarkably smart lad and the existence of the hat and coat impressed him greatly. The fingerless gloves gave this man an extra air of magic, as far as Willie was concerned.

 "Aren't you young Willie Gruff?" The man asked, walking towards him on powerful legs.

 "That's right," Willie said with a distinctive cockney voice "and who might you be govnah'?"

 "I?" The man asked, pressing his hand to his chest and spreading his fingers wide across it. "I am Mister Troll, and if you are Willie Gruff, then I have a proposition for you."

 "A wut?" Willie asked. "Wat's dat den?"

 "An offer." Troll said smiling a warm and inviting smile.

 "What is it den?" Willie asked in an voice that was becoming more irritating to type every moment.

 "I understand you are one of The Club, yes?" He winked. "One of Oscar's own lovers of the lavender passage?"

 "Ypu mean I like to take men up me backside?"

 "Yes." Troll said, his smile flickering for a moment.

 "That's right govnah!" Willie announced. "If you want to fuck me bum, it'll cost you a bit, cause you ain't me type."

 "Oh am I not?" Said Mister Troll. "Alright, my little rent boy. I'll tell you what I will do. I will give you a right old seeing to. If you let me finish and if I come before you do, then I will give you fifty gold sovereigns. Now is that a deal, my young lad?"

 Willie wasn't listening anymore, his long, delicate hands were furiously working at his belt. In no time at all, his trousers were about his ankles and he was displaying a lovely little cock to all of London that wanted to see it. He kicked one leg free of his pants and spun around putting his hands against the wall and leaning his pert ass to Mister Troll.

 "Come on then." Willie said. "Get whatever you call a cock up here!"

 In his mind, Willie was already spending those sovereigns on chocolates and a new pair of shoes. He could get himself a suit of clothes, a fancy hat and... his mind was taken away by the cold feeling of some liquid on his back side. Then Mister Troll's finger, sliding up his bumhole. It was entirely without ceremony that Willie felt the round, bulbous head of Troll's cock pressing against his sphincter. He pushed out, opening the ring of muscle and talking Troll in. He began to realize that this might be too much for him as the head was truly massive. There was actually pain for the first time since he was seven. He balled his fists up and gritted his teeth, but it was clear that he  could not do this.

 "Cor and blimey!" He shouted and pulled away, his hands covering his butt and tears streaming down his face. "I can't have that up me back passage!"

 "No?" Troll said, standing still and looking quizative. "No you say? I haven't even got the head in."

 "It's too big!" Willie complained, and having spun around got a good look at the huge erect penis that was waving between them.

 "I thought you'd had a hundred men up in that arse of yours."

 "Maybe, but all of them together don't match the size of that cock mister." Willie said, looking fearfully at the large penis as it drifted away from its erection.

 "This will not do!" Troll said, looking annoyed. "I either need satisfaction, or you need to pay me for the privilege of fucking you. We don't leave without money changing hands."

 "Now hang on!" Willie said, as he pulled his pants up. He wasn't sure how angry Mister Troll could get. "I've got an idea. My brother William fucks society people. He's always telling me how they like to put things up his arse, bigger than a horse's cock even!"

 "Yes?" Troll asked, placing a finger to his chin, stroking his beard that I was sure we said didn't exist a few paragraphs ago.

 "He should be able to take you in his chocolate tunnel, no problem." Willie assured him.

 "Hurry up and get him then, or I'll come looking for you." Troll said.

 "Yes sir!" Willie told him.

 "And I'll just keep this as collateral." Troll help up the watch Willie had stolen.

 "Right."

 Willie ran off, though his ass hurt and he had to commit two murders and steal a jar of cold cream for his burning butthole and rob half a dozen men of their wallets before he could make it home. So as things went in Victorian London, his walk home was uneventful. I've done a lot of research (read: I glanced at the TV while the musical Oliver! was on) and I'm pretty sure it's accurate to portray the place as one level lower than Detroit.

STAY TUNED FOR CHAPTER TWO!