The Epson boy

By Josh Dugan 
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I'd heard about the Epson's boy only incidentally, but I knew I had to meet him.

It was after gassing my car up at Walt's filling station. I was paying Walt at the cash register, when I happened to catch mention of the Epson boy. Phil the mechanic was telling Dr. Hughes about the old convertible he'd sold Charlie Epson.

“Wasn't he the guy whose son is four-legged?” Dr. Hughes asked.

“Yep. He's back from college now. Good-looking kid,” Phil answered. Dr. Hughes and Phil went over to get a soft drink, and Walt was handing me my change.

“Thanks,” I said to Walt, stuffing the change in my jeans pocket. To my horror, I could feel my hardon enormous inside my jeans. I grabbed a copy of the local newspaper and laid the money for it on the counter, opening it and nonchalantly holding it in front of my hardon-powered jeans bulge while I turned and walked back to my car.

I thought I remembered something about the Epson's boy, from back in my gradeschool days. Something about him being sent to a private school or some sort of special place where you lived and went to school, for some kind of medical reason. We would have been in the same grade school, even in the same class, but the plans were changed. I had only heard about it after they'd called roll call on the first day of school and he wasn't there. I'd never known anything about the boy, but now I wondered. I didn't know the other kids in the family, except that they were all nice kids, all off to the best schools, athletic and popular, and their parents were perpetually away, traveling.

I wished I'd had some pretense to use to meet the Epson boy. I didn't even know his first name. I knew where the house was—a very nice place in the best part of town, but I wasn't a friend of the family. I wished I had a reason to visit there, but I didn't deliver pizza or newspapers, or solicit for charities, or anything at all that would work.

I realized that I didn't need a reason. I'd just say I heard he was back from school, and we would have gone to the same grade school if he'd lived in town when we were growing up. It was lame, but balanced by desire to meet this four-legged boy, it would have to work.

Amazingly, it did.

I didn't know what to expect when I knocked on the door of the family home, but he answered himself. He was nice.

I found myself introducing myself and explaining myself just as I'd planned, and it was enough for him.

“Well, glad to meet you,” he said. “I'm Chad. Come on in!”

He turned on his four tanned legs—he really had four of them—and led me inside. Trying not to stare, I took in his handsome four-legged body. All four of his feet were bare, and they walked as a foursome very naturally, and his four tanned legs were long and muscular in shorts. He was wearing an old yellow polo shirt that showed off his nice physique.

I pictured myself carrying him on my shoulders and having the warmth of his four well-developed tan legs all around me, and I could almost feel his hind feet comfortably splayed out in front of us as I carried him along as I held the ankles of his front feet. I was imagining how heavy he'd be to carry, especially with four muscular legs.

“Would you like a soft drink or a glass of water?” Chad asked, turning to glance at me as his four legs carried him beautifully along in front of me.

“Sure, thanks!” I said, wondering if he could tell how aroused I was at the sight of his four beautiful legs and the working of his four handsome hips, hind legs crowded into the hips of his front legs, hind hips protruding and moving so well with his elegant four-legged walk on four bare feet.

We were at a small refrigerator where he dropped bonelessly to his four knees, squatting on them as he pulled out a selection of soft drink bottles, passing them to me. I loved the way his kneeling front legs allowed the soles of his front feet to kiss the calves of his hind legs as he knelt on his four tanned legs, the four feet shapely with their soles upturned as they knelt on the floor.

I got all the bottles under one arm and offered him a hand as he got up. He took it with a smile, and I pulled him as his four legs gracefully stood themselves up.

I followed him out to the back yard as he headed his four legs down the walk, his four feet deftly taking the steps of a short stairway, and we found a couple of patio chairs with a table between them for our softdrinks and the ice and glasses he'd brought. He offered me one, and slid comfortably into the other, his four legs arranging themselves comfortably. His hindquarters spine comfortably fit into the curve of the chair as he relaxed informally, one of his front legs splayed forward as its partner rested across the knees of his handsome hind legs.

I found it hard to talk, facing his four beautifully muscled legs, his four handsome male feet, but Chad was nice about it, evidently taking my attention as a compliment.

We talked a little about ourselves and our families. Apparently four-legge dness ran in Chad's family; there was a great uncle and a great great great uncle who'd been four legged. Growing up and in college, Chad had either been the object of curiosity or pity by some, but was popular overall and the boy of many people's dreams, also envied for his natural athleticism and his endowment of four excellent legs. He said it was funny that he was used to being carried off the field or basketball court or away from the pool when whatever team he was on won, and generally the quarterback or team captain took it as a given, because the guys just wanted to help carry those four legs.

We moved to sit on the lawn, where he sat with his hind legs crossed, his front legs basically sitting on his crossed hind legs, his crossed arms resting on the knees of his front legs, where he could absently reach to scratch a front foot or stroke the sole of a hind foot.

He'd had several boyfriends, including a four-legged boy who was a foreign exchange student from France, with four feet to die for, he laughed—a gymnast whose well-developed hindquarters gave him incredible four-legged sure-footedness, who could perform on the balance beam with all four feet or any two or any one of them, and whose flips, somersaults and parallell bar routines were all the more powerful and spectacular because of his strength and agility on four muscular legs and four muscular, beautiful feet. The beautiful four-legged boy from France had gone on to perform at Cirque d'Soleil, and had developed a show-stopping routine about a barefoot centaur bucking bronco who ultimately falls in love with his cowboy trainer right in the middle of the arena.

“I gave him the idea for the barefoot centaur rodeo, and I definitely miss him,” Chad said, a little sadly. “But it helped him win his audition, and it got him the career start he needed. And it's been good for the circus, because they can use the extra legs.”

I laughed. “I see what you mean; since he joined them, they got four legs for the price of two,” I said.

“Better than that,” Chad explained. “He literally fell in love with the acrobat who playe the cowboy trainer, and they were able to expand the act and add new four-legged acts when the acrobat grew four legs.”

“How did he grow four legs?” I asked, amazed and aroused.

“Naturally you wouldn't know this; not many do,” Chad explained. “Probably because so few are born four-legged, nature allows us to pass on four-leggedness to our boyfriends who are attracted by it.”

I was dumbfounded and bone-hard. He read my look with a smile.

“It's like Carlos, our pool boy. Hey, Carlos!” he called. I had noticed someone in the distance past the walls and bushes, doing something around the pool, but hadn't really paid attention. He was a beautiful youth, and as he came our way I noticed sure enough he was walking on four beautiful feet, his four legs tanned and very attractive in their ragged four-legged cutoffs.

“Where's Jose?” Chad asked Carlos. They smiled at each other, eyeing each others' handsome foursomes of legs.

“In the pool,” Carlos answered, blushing and waving an arm towards the area he had just come from. “We were making love.”

“Very nice,” Chad said. “Your four legs are looking so nice, no wonder he loves them!”

“I love his, too,” Carlos said, giving me a welcoming smile but following the bidding of his four handsome legs, which seemed to urge him back to his four-legged lover, Jose.

“Nice meeting you,” I said, totally hopeless about ever containing my enormous hardon, which raged out of control.

“He is so sweet,” Chad said, smiling after the departing Carlos. “I am so proud in a way, because he is so beautiful four-legged, and so is his Jose.”

“Wow,” was all I could say.

“Wow for sure,” Chad said. “That's why so many guys come back from spring break or from rave parties four-legged.”

I had to stretch, I was feeling so hot and turned on. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the two beautiful four-legged youths Carlos and Jose mounting each other, and I wanted Chad in the worst way.

“My legs are aching,” I said. They were.

“That's a good sign,” he smiled. I lay back on the lawn, and he knelt by me on four knees and kissed me.

“I can't wait to do this to you,” he said, undressing us and laying his wonderful four-legged body on me. I could feel my legs under the four of his, dying to be four for him.


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