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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
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Family Disturbance
by Boy Writer (bstory@anon.nymserver.com)
1998
***
A brother's planned revenge for bullying goes wrong
when he's caught out in his scheme. (m-dom/m, nc, oral,
inc, youths)
***
"And it better be good. Just like mom makes it," Those
were Brad's last words before he ran outside to play,
leaving Randy in the kitchen to cook dinner. Randy
could barely contain his smile.
Everything was going according to plan he was going to
get even with Brad's bullying once and for all. When he
got home he started an argument about dinner with his
dumbass brother. With threats of sexual violence Randy
let Brad "win" the argument about who would do the
cooking. Randy had suggested Brad's favorite meal,
meatloaf, to make sure he ate a ton of it.
Meatloaf was no big deal for Randy. He didn't
particularly like to cook, but could, if required. He
took the eggs and hamburger out of the refrigerator and
then headed up stairs. He stopped in to see Mark.
"Hey, Mark, do me a favor. If Brad tells you to come
eat - don't. Tell him you'll puke on him, if you have
to, just don't eat the meatloaf."
Mark looked up from his pillow, "why not?"
"Because it's all for Brad. I want him to get real full
and then maybe he'll fall asleep before he visits you
tonight."
Mark brightened at the thought of his ass having a day
of rest. Randy tickled him and he giggled slightly,
some of the color coming back into his face. Randy
slipped out, leaving Mark with some slight hope of not
being violated that night.
Randy entered his parent's bathroom and went right to
the medicine chest. Last week at the library Randy had
looked up all the prescriptions in the Physician's Desk
Reference. He was surprised to learn that his mom had
been heavily sedated at more than one point. He chose
several of the "mother's-little-helpers." Brad was a
pig, he added another one of the tiny sleeping pills.
He didn't want to take a chance that he and Mark
couldn't overpower him.
Back down stairs he opened the capsules and ground up
the pills. In mixing the meatloaf, Randy made sure the
bulk of the drugs were towards one end of the pan. That
way he could eat some, if he had to, and Brad would
still get a full dose with only two slices.
Randy put the loaf on to bake and went into the garage
looking for something to restrain Brad. He wasn't sure
it he'd have to tie Brad up or not, but he figured that
at least a gag would be necessary and he wanted to be
prepared for anything. Randy grabbed a tennis ball for
good measure. That was something he was sure would fit
in Brad's big mouth.
After hiding everything under the couch Randy checked
to see if the batteries in the video camera were
finished charging and loaded a fresh tape. Brad would
be paying for this one for a very long time, thought
Randy. The timer went off and Randy pulled out a
perfect meatloaf. It even looked better than mom's.
Randy had put half a box of brown sugar on top before
he put it in to bake, ensuring that Brad would wolf it
down.
Randy set the table and poured milk for himself and
Brad. He sliced the meatloaf after taking out the
toothpick he had used to mark the spiked side. He
placed the two "high-octane" slices on Brad's plate and
the opposite end on his own. Brad wouldn't be
suspicious, since he knew that Randy liked the end
slice, also Brad was an idiot, he wouldn't notice if
Randy was eating shoe leather. Randy checked on Mark
one more time and then went out to get Brad for dinner.
"Dinner is served, your highness," Randy said with a
flourish.
"Hey guys," Brad boasted, "my dickhead brother cooked
dinner." The other boys laughed at Randy as Brad
boasted about all the work he made his little brothers
do.
"It's getting cold," Randy said dryly.
"God, you've got a regular bitch for a little brother,"
one boy laughed.
"Yeah, but she sure can do laundry," answered Brad,
patting Randy on the ass. The boys howled with laughter
as Randy turned bright red. Brad pushed Randy towards
the house and kept trying to trip him all the way up
the steps.
Randy bit his tongue. He wasn't about to take a chance
on pissing off Brad this late in the game. He pointed
to the table and Brad smiled broadly, reveling in his
command. They both sat down and Brad sniffed at the
plate.
"You better not have put any Ex-Lax in here or I'll
kick your ass."
"No, Brad, no Ex-lax," Randy said truthfully.
Randy couldn't help himself, he was riveted to Brad's
movements. Brad cut a small slice of meatloaf and
brought it up to his mouth. He paused and looked at his
fork. Randy's heart leaped into his throat. Brad put
the fork down and looked at Randy.
"I should do you right now," Brad said stone-faced.
Randy couldn't speak. He began to feel sick.
"You thought I wouldn't notice? I'm not the fuckin'
dork in this house, remember?"
Randy felt his world was crashing down on him. He
couldn't think fast enough to say anything. It was all
going into slow motion. Brad was going to fuck him, or
worse and the weeks of planning, the money, Jimmy's
homework, everything; it was all for nothing.
"Brad, I, I, uh..." Randy stumbled.
"Shut up, dickhead. Just get me the ketchup."
Randy came to the realization that Brad's whole scene
had been because Randy had forgotten to put the ketchup
bottle on the table. Randy almost dove for the
refrigerator to get the condiment.
He spent the next fifteen minutes watching Brad wolf
down enough meatloaf to feed three people. Randy
watched with a sick fascination and thought that Brad
was turning into one of the boys in the movie "Lord of
the Flies." Randy noticed how muscular Brad had become
and for the first time was truly afraid of his big
brother.
"Get me a beer, dick breath," ordered Brad.
Randy knew that some of the drugs he fed Brad would
become more potent under the influence of alcohol, but
there was no denying Brad any vice now.
Randy popped the top on a Miller Lite, Tim's favorite
brew, and slid it down the table to Brad. The oldest
Taylor boy chugged the beer and slammed the empty
bottle down on the table.
"Nice going, bitch," complemented Brad. A loud belch
followed by a fart erupted from Brad's satisfied body.
"Well, I aim to please," smiled Randy, wondering when
Brad would start to get woozy.
"Now for dessert," said Brad standing. He belched again
and turned towards Randy. Brad fumbled at his belt and
started to undo his pants. Randy had expected that Brad
would be out cold before he had time to think of sex.
Oh, man, this was too gross to imagine, thought Randy.
Brad stepped out of his pants. Randy could make out the
thick ridge of his erection under the cotton briefs. At
the tip a wet spot spread out where Brad's juices had
flowed out in anticipation of breaking in Randy to the
wonderful world of brother-sex.
Randy sat paralyzed, his eyes fixed on Brad's eager
erection. Here, now, in the light of day, in a normal
room, it somehow seemed different, more powerful, as
though showing its presence here cast aside all
resistance. Brad walked up to the chair where Randy
sat, then lowered his briefs and moved closer. His cock
moved against Randy's nose, making a thin wet line of
pre-cum on the boy's cheek.
"Open up, pretty boy," Brad said. Randy sat stock
still, neither complying nor seeking to escape. Brad
smacked him on the back of the head. "I said, open up!"
Having no choice, Randy opened his mouth and took
Brad's penis inside. For some reason, Randy had thought
it would taste repulsive, but it didn't. It had very
little taste, in fact. He thought idly about the taste,
his mind unable to encompass the situation. Randy
became detached from himself, as if floating outside
his body, watching.
"Good, good," Brad said. "Keep your teeth off it, like
you're doing. Lick it some. No, don't take it out of
your mouth, asshole, just keep it inside and run your
tongue over the bottom. Oh, yeah, that's right...
you'll be really good at this in a while."
Normally, Randy would have replied with some kind of
zinger of his own, but he couldn't talk now because my
mouth is full of cock. He thought to himself, 'My big
brother has his cock in my mouth!' A horrible chill
went down his back as he thought of it, but he could
not stop, Brad wouldn't let him.
Brad could, though. He pulled out. Randy looked up at
him beseechingly, his wiseacre mouth deserting him
entirely. When would Brad start getting tired of this?
"You know, I really think you should be on your knees
when you suck cock little brother," Brad said with a
smirk. Once again, Randy did not move. "Get on your
knees!" Brad threatened.
Mechanically, Randy rose from his chair, continuing to
stare at Brad's penis. Sure, Brad was still a boy, but
he had a man's cock. It made Randy feel small and
inadequate - helpless, even.
"No, wait!" Brad said. "Get naked. I want you naked
when you suck my cock." Randy stood still, his mind
awhirl. "I *said*, take off your clothes. Now!" Brad
ordered.
Randy lifted his pullover shirt and dropped it on the
floor, then sat back down on his chair to pull off his
shoes and socks. "Hurry up bitch, I don't have all
day," Brad said, as Randy stood back up and removed his
jeans and underwear in one movement. Naked, Randy stood
there, looking at the floor.
"Well?!" Brad demanded. Randy knelt and took the fat
penis back into his mouth. "Finally!" Brad said with
mock exasperation. "For a little cocktoy, you sure make
life difficult! Now suck me like you want it. I know
you do."
For Randy, in this unfamiliar world, it almost seemed
like he *did* want it, as he sucked and licked at the
older boy's cock. It's warm, Randy thought. And soft.
But hard underneath.
Brad soon tired of Randy's slow exploration of his
cock, however, and grabbed Randy about the ears,
pistoning in and out. Randy, immobile, felt Brad's
penis pushed painfully against the back of his mouth,
again and again. It brought Randy back to reality, the
harsh reality of being a cocksucker.
There was a knock at the door. It was Jimmy! Oh God NO!
Randy panicked, but again he could not move; Brad held
his head firmly. "Just a minute!" Brad called out, then
spoke more softly to Randy: "Hurry up, dickbreath." As
if Randy could do anything about it. "Suck harder,"
Brad breathed.
Randy complied urgently; if there was one thing worse
than being forced to suck his brother's cock, it was
being seen doing it. He sucked like mad, nearly cramped
his tongue with the activity he forced upon it. There
was a second knock at the door. "Ca-ca-coming!" Brad
said, swaying on his feet. And then Brad *was* cumming,
right in his brother's mouth.
The door opened, and Jimmy walked in. "Squirrel?" he
said, looking around, then settled his eyes on Randy,
naked on his knees, Brad's penis spasming between his
lips. A long dribble of white cum leaking from the
corner of Randy's mouth.
Brad was momentarily horrified, but he quickly
recovered. After all, he wasn't the one with a dick in
his mouth, was he? Still, this was Jimmy Abramson, the
meanest kid in town. "Squirrel" must be Randy, it was a
fitting nickname, but what could he want with Randy?
Brad looked at Jimmy in confusion, still coming down
from his orgasm.
Jimmy, however, was not at all confused. Everything had
suddenly become clear to him. Jimmy was a dull boy, but
he wasn't *that* dull. He could see what Randy's game
had been. Talking about "Brad the fag" and "Brad the
flamer," when all along all Randy wanted to do was get
Jimmy to come over and fuck him. Then timing things so
that he was sucking off his brother when Jimmy walked
in.
Jimmy almost felt sorry for Randy, not that he ever
felt sorry for anybody. In a weird way, the squirrel
had almost become a friend. Well, after all Randy had
done for him, if the boy wanted to be fucked, Jimmy was
certainly ready to do it. Sure, it was twisted, but the
kid did have a nice, smooth little butt, ready and
waiting for a cock to plug it.
Brad pulled out of Randy's mouth, and both Brad and
Randy stared at Jimmy, wondering what he would do next.
Brad spoke first, deciding bravado was the best
approach. "Just giving my little cocksucker brother
something to be happy about," he said. "You want some?
He's ready and willing."
Jimmy laughed then, and Brad heaved a silent sigh of
relief. "Yeah, the little pussy invited me over," Jimmy
said. "You wouldn't believe the story he told me."
"I would believe this little shit would say almost
anything," Brad replied, laughing himself. "I just
wouldn't believe *him*." He turned to Randy, who
remained mute on the floor. "You can get up now. Clean
off the table. No, leave your clothes there. I want you
to stay naked tonight. And wipe that shit off your
face."
Unable to deal with the situation, Randy simply wiped
the cum off his chin with the back of his wrist and
started taking dishes into the kitchen. He didn't even
think of running away. He just didn't think at all. He
felt the older boys' eyes on his bottom as he walked.
"So tell me, what did he say?" Brad asked, smiling now
that he was sure that Jimmy was an ally. Brad put his
clothes back on.
"He told me this story about how you were a big flaming
faggot who wanted to get fucked. He gave me $20 to come
over and fuck you. Gave me booze and pot too. Did my
homework for two whole months. Said it was all to help
his poor brother, who was too shy to ask for what he
wanted." Jimmy laughed loudly.
Brad stared at Jimmy in silence for a moment, then
laughed too. "I should really beat the hell out of him
for that," Brad said. "I just didn't know he wanted it
so bad. Randy here's a great cocksucker" - Brad slapped
the boy's behind as he want past, carrying dishes -
"but he's never had it in his ass. Not like his
brother." Brad called up the stairs: "Mark! Come down
here!"
Sheepishly, Mark came walking down the stairs, dressed
in briefs and a t-shirt since he had been in bed
feigning illness.
"Shit, I don't believe it. Two little fags in the same
family," Jimmy said.
"Brad, you promised," Mark whined, as his older brother
led him to meet Jimmy.
"Don't worry, sweetheart, your little bottom is all
mine," Brad said, reaching down into the back of Mark's
briefs.
"I'm here for Randy," Jimmy said to Mark, caressing the
younger boy's cheek.
"You and I will have to wait for another time."
Randy was washing the dishes. "Randy! Get your cute
little bottom out here! Your boyfriend is waiting!"
Brad yelled. Obediently, Randy came out of the kitchen,
wiping his hands on a towel, his head hanging. He knew
he was going to get fucked; he hoped it would only be
once.
"Randy is probably wondering why I'm not asleep yet,
since he tried to drug me," Brad said, smirking, as
Randy walked past.
Randy turned quickly, his eyes very wide. How could
Brad know?
"Sorry, Randy," Mark said sadly. "Brad said he would
share me with his friends if I didn't tell him what you
were up to. I saw you getting Mom's pills out of the
medicine cabinet."
Brad laughed loudly. "And I switched them with
vitamins." Jimmy snickered too. Brad snaked his arm
around Mark's neck and pulled him close in front. "The
rug-rat here loves a dick up his ass, but only if it's
mine. He's my little butt-slut. Isn't that right, Mark?
Tell him."
"I'm his little butt-slut," Mark said, staring at
Jimmy's shoes.
Jimmy grabbed Randy and pulled him close. "And Randy
here is mine."
Then Randy had a brief burst of desperate self-
preservation, but it didn't last long. He struggled to
pull away from Jimmy, to escape the older boy's grip.
Jimmy responded by forcefully pushing Randy forward
onto the couch. Crouching over the younger boy, Jimmy
was about to commence the deed when Mark shouted,
"Wait!"
He squirmed to get away from Brad, who let him go, and
both older boys watched as the underwear-clad youngster
ran into the kitchen, coming back with a bottle of
cooking oil. He held it out to Jimmy. "You have to put
something on your dick so it will go in easier," Mark
explained. "Brad didn't used to do that, that's why it
hurt me so much," the little boy said to Mark, who was
pinned tighly under Jimmy with his arm twisted behind
his back.
"You put it on," Jimmy said, bemused.
Mark knelt down and carefully opened the bottle,
pouring a small amount of oil in his hand. Then, with
both hands, he applied the oil to Jimmy's penis, which
despite the fact that Jimmy out weighted Brad by more
than 50 pounds was not significantly larger. Jimmy's
cock, in fact, was somewhat thinner than Brad's, though
much longer.
His work done, Mark sat back on his heels as Jimmy
aligned the head of his penis with Randy's hole. "It's
okay, Randy. Just relax and let it go in. It hurts more
if you try to keep it out. It doesn't hurt too bad if
he goes slow," the little boy added, looking at Jimmy
hopefully.
"Don't worry, squirrel, I'll fuck you long and slow,"
Jimmy said, pushing the head of his cock into Randy's
bottom. Randy groaned. It hurt, no matter what Mark
said. But it did not hurt that much. If this was all,
Randy could take it.
But it was not all. Brad and Mark watched as Jimmy's
penis slowly disappeared into Randy's smooth, round
bottom. All were silent. Jimmy and Randy were breathing
quickly, one in pleasure, the other in pain. Deeper and
deeper Jimmy's long cock went, and Randy began to
shudder against the couch cushions.
Randy was no smart-aleck now. This was not something he
could stand above and make wisecracks about. This was
Jimmy Abramson's strong, muscular body pushing down,
crushing him, Jimmy's proud, long cock shoving ever
deeper inside. Against his will, Randy's own hairless
little penis became hard, as fear surpassed itself and
became acceptance, pain submerging itself in hopeless
submission.
Then, good as his word, Jimmy began to fuck Randy, long
and slow. Every deepening plunge took something away
from the boy's accustomed sarcastic demeanor. For the
first time since he could remember, Randy could not
form a sentence in his mind. Each - uh - word - uhm -
was - uhh - punctuated by a thrust that made him lose
his place. Randy was left with his body and his
feelings, neither of which he was quite comfortable
with. His body was so weak and little, so helpless, so
smooth and soft, so dominated by the hard strong man
above him.
Then Jimmy sped up, fucking in earnest, and Randy was
tossed repeatedly against the cushions, all pain, all
shame lost now, all lost, only his bottom pulsating,
pounding with a rhythm he could not control, driving
his rock-hard little dick into the rough fabric. Randy
twisted, struggled, not knowing whether he wanted to
get away or wanted more.
And then it was over. Jimmy's cock expanded once,
twice, then again and again, and Randy's hypersensitive
rectum seemed to feel every drop as the semen drained
into him. Jimmy rested on his elbows, remaining atop,
and inside, Randy.
Looking to the side, Randy could see that Mark was once
again receiving Brad in his rear end. The little boy
reclined on the couch, his head propped against the
back, his knees pulled to his shoulders, as Brad shoved
his impossibly fat penis into the impossibly small
hole. And Mark was crying, yes in pain, but there was
more to it. And now Randy knew how much more.
Epilogue
--------
Jimmy came over nearly every day after that. Randy
continued to do his homework. Mark continued to clean
Brad's room. Tim and Jill didn't know what to make of
the new peace in the house - all the boys seemed very
quiet, as if they had a secret together. Tim joked
about the Stepford children.
Jimmy and Brad exchanged their catamites after a couple
weeks. Randy got used to swinging on the end of Brad's
thick dick, and Mark learned precisely how deep Jimmy's
long dong could go.
Brad, true to his word, never did share Mark out
(except with Jimmy a few times), but Jimmy had other
ideas for Randy. He would take Randy downtown in short,
tight pink shorts and a cutoff shirt, making the boy
walk the streets in a slow, suggestive manner.
Randy would endure the catcalls and the rude remarks
until a man, or more likely one of Jimmy's friends from
the football team selected for the occasion, would
proposition him. Off they would go to the broken back
door of the abandoned theater, then inside.
And Randy, no longer the smart-aleck, would learn the
feeling of many thick, manly cocks in his backside.
END
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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