“Lord,” I pray, as I have been doing every night for the last ten years, “Please send unto my bed tonight a boy. Amen.” I don’t add the qualifications to my request that the boy be a young beardless virgin slender of cock and heavy of testicle. He knows that from my previous prayers, and although He hasn’t yet seen fit to grant my wish I have no doubt that someday He will do so. Nor do I point out that I only want the companionship of the boy for a month so that I may extract what I can of his seed, or that I when I am done with him I will render him seedless and he will remain forever a boy. He knows all this, and just as He knows my vices and perversions, I know that I will ultimately be forgiven.

I crawl into bed and lie there a few minutes, debating rather to masturbate or hold onto my own seed in case that this might be the night. I am sixty years old and I know I won’t live forever. He, in all his infinite wisdom, must act soon.

I sleep late the next morning and daylight is streaking into the room as I slowly open my eyes. It is unusual for me to sleep that late, as my sixty-year-old prostate usually demands that I hit the toilet before then. The other thing that is unusual is the sunlight, as my bedroom at home doesn’t have a window. I ponder this as I lie there still half asleep, and finally decide that I must be in a motel room somewhere. This has happened to me before, and when I travel a lot I sometimes become temporarily disoriented, but I seldom frequent motels as dirty and shabby as this one.

Another distraction is the pressure I feet in my groin. Not the urgency of a full bladder common to older men, but the welcome fullness of a morning erection. My boners must be pharmaceutically enhanced now, and I haven’t had natural morning wood in over ten years. I am also aware of a wisp of hair that is hanging in front of my right eye. Hair? I haven’t hair on my forehead for decades. I reach up to brush it away and rub the sleep out of my eyes and then discover that I am also either beardless or someone has given me an extremely close shave while I slept.

Awake now, I throw the covers back and look down. I always wear a tee shirt and underwear to bed, but I am now totally naked. My chest is totally hairless, as are my arms, and my belly is firm and flat. My erection arches gracefully across my belly and reaches clear to my navel, below that the thin blonde pubic bush of my youth, bony thighs, and slender, lightly haired legs. Despite my erection my balls are sagging low and I reach down to fondle them. They seem larger than I remember them being when I was younger. “What the hell?” I say, and am immediately surprised at the warbling adolescent contralto of my voice. It suddenly occurs to me what has happened. Somehow He got His wires crossed and instead of bringing a boy into my bed He made me into one!

My meditations are interrupted by the sudden flush of a toilet, then the opening of the door at the end of the room. The man standing there is wearing only a pair of dingy jockey shorts and I instinctively draw up the bedsheet to cover my nudity. He is old, probably fifty, and grossly obese: rolls of fat surround his abdomen and have swollen his thighs to the size of a woman’s. He is dark and swarthy and looks as if he hasn’t shaved for a week or more, and I can smell his body odor clear across the room. His chest and massive belly are covered in a mat of dense black hair. His eyes grow wide, and it is obvious that I am not the only one surprised and mystified by my presence in the room.

“Thank you!” He stated reverently, lifting his head as if looking skyward. He crosses the room and sweeps the sheet from on top of me, and stares at my body. I could clearly see the hair growing from his ears and nostrils, and the blackheads on his pockmarked face, and smell the sourness of his breath. He reaches across the bed to take my nuts in his pudgy hand and rolls them around between his fingers as if assessing their worth. His dirty underpants are inches from my face, and their baggy, stained, crotch is filling right before my eyes. He steps back and strips off his underwear to reveal smallish balls tucked tightly against the fatness of his groin and a fat stubby cock jutting out of a forest of hair. “Thank you! Thank you!” he intones, clasping his hands and smiling with glee.