J.O. Dickingson

Brewster Adventures

The Boogeyman Meets the Brewsters
A Brewster Halloween

The Boogeyman Meets the Brewsters

5 October 1999

This is a story involving four brothers, two preteens and two thirteen-year-olds, a seven-year-old boy, and that hideous being who has tormented all of us at some time or another, the boogeyman

If you find the boogeyman or the idea of preteens and teens being sexually active frightening, or get excessively horny reading stories about spanking, you'd better skip this story.
This is the seventh of the Brewster Boys Series. Comments can be sent to the author, J.O. Dickingson at authorsix(at)hotmail(dot)com who recommends you be sure to take a condom to bed. You never know who might be under it

Posted on ASSGM: 12 August 1999

— tb-boogeyman – non-cons (for the Boogeyman) anal – spank —
9,000 words (18 pages)

On the television screen a dark-haired, good-looking man with just a wisp of white hair at the temples and wearing nothing but a dog collar was being lead by a leash about a room. He had just urinated on a fire hydrant and was about to be rewarded with a bone, not a doggy bone, but the stiffie being taken out of the red speedo of the randy fifteen-year-old boy who had been leading him.

"You know, for an old guy, he was a lot of fun," observed eleven-year-old Benny as he reached for another hand of buttered popcorn.

"Yumph, he wath," agreed his older brother Brent, his mouth full.

"But we sure the fuck surprised him," observed Bobby, the youngest of the four brothers, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. He was a good-looking boy with high cheek bones, a fine nose and mouth, and dark brown hair of average length on the sides with the front combed up to form sort of a crest, a style called the Caesar. "He sure didn't expect ."

"Oh shit," interrupted Brett as he grabbed the remote and snapped off the VCR.

The four brothers quickly turned and looked toward the door of the family room. Standing there shyly in the doorway was their charge for the evening, seven-year-old Charles Elwood. He stood there in his white flannel pajamas with colourful Pokemon characters, his light brown hair sticking out in all directions, and his big, deep brown eyes even wider than usual.

"What are you doing out of bed?" asked Brent sharply, not because he was angry that the boy was still awake, but because of what the boy had just caught them doing.

"Ah, well, I ."

"We let you stay up late. You promised if we did you wouldn't get up," reminded Brent's twin, Brett, just as sharply. The little kid had to have seen the images on the screen. If he told his parents, they'd be in big shit.

"I know, but ."

"No but's. Now off to bed."

"I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I just can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"There's something under my bed."

"Chuck," Brent said firmly. "We've been through this. We looked, remember?"

"Yes," the boy said, his voice quavering. "But it snuck in after you left and while I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth."

"What snuck in?"

"The boogeyman."

"Chuck, there's no such thing."

"There is."

"Isn't."

"Is."

"Oh shit," Bobby said irritably. Of the four brothers, he had the least patience, and the least concern about his language, not that his brothers were that cautious about when and where they swore either.

"Honest," the boy said, practically in tears.

"All right," said Benny with a sigh as he got up. "I'll come with you and check again."

"Won't do no good."

"Why?"

"Cuz he'll know. He'll just run away and wait until I'm alone. He knows when there's just a little kid there."

"Chuck," warned Brent.

"Honest."

The boy's wide, pleading eyes were sincere.

"Then what are we going to do?" argued Brent. He knew the kid really did believe what he was telling them and he felt sorry for him, but at the same time he wanted to get back to the video they were watching. "You can't stay out here with us all night."

"We'll just have to trick him," observed Brett, having been scheming during the conversation. Of the four brothers, the thirteen-year-old twin was the logical thinker.

"How?" asked Charles, eager for a solution.

"We'll make him think that you're in there, and when he comes out, we'll grab him."

"How we gonna do that?"

"We'll send in Bobby."

"The fuck you will," Bobby declared.

"Com'on Bobby."

"Why me?"

"Cuz the boogeyman only wants little kids."

"What the fuck you mean little kid. I'm ten years old!"

"Yeah, by three days."

"So I'm still ten."

"Com'on, be a sport."

"No way."

"You scared?"

"Of the boogeyman?" snorted Bobby. "Oh yeah, I'm shaking in my boots."

"Well go in there and shake in Chucky's slippers."

"Huh?"

"Put on Chucky's slippers. The boogeyman can only see your feet from under the bed, so when you go in the bedroom he'll think it's you. All you have to do is jump in the bed, and when he grabs you, you yell, and we'll grab him."

"Brett, you been cooking up those brownies we made for Santa last Christmas?"

"You made Santa brownies?" asked Charles.

"Oh yeah, he loved 'em," said Bobby with a grin as he thought back to last Christmas when they'd tried to get into Santa's toy bag by drugging him with brownies full of hash.

"Don't try to change the topic," Brett warned. That was a favourite way of the boys of distracting their parents, one that they were very good at. "Go ahead, Bobby. We want to get Chuck in bed so we can watch you know what."

Bobby didn't like it, but he did want to continue watching the video they'd secretly taped at their father's company picnic the previous month. Charles took off his slippers and with a lot of grumbling, Bobby removed his socks and put on the Mickey Mouse slippers with white fur trim. The ten-year-old's feet were far too big and all he could do was slid his toes part way in and step down on the backs with his heels.

"That's not going to work. Your jeans are hanging over them."

"I ain't putting on his pajamas bottoms!"

"They would be too small anyway. Just take off your pants."

"Oh geez!"

"The video," reminded Brett.

Bobby frowned but did as he'd been told. "Okay, so, what's the real plan?" he whispered as Brett stepped into the hallway with him.

"You go in Chucky's room, wait a minute, and then make a bunch of noise. Then come back and say you chased the boogeyman away and he's so scared you heard him say he's not ever coming back again."

"Hey, pretty fuckin' smart."

"Course," said Brett. "I got looks and brains."

"Too bad your dick is so small," teased his ten-year-old brother, his hazel eyes sparkling and his thin lips curling into a devilish grin.

"Up yours," replied his older brother, his own deep blue eyes twinkling. With his long, blond hair midway down his chest and fine features he could easily be mistaken for a flat-chested girl, but he was very much all boy, as were his three brothers.

"Kay, later," Bobby replied, and from the smile on his face Brett had no idea if he was joking or not. Bobby's tenth birthday might have been only three days ago, but the dark-haired boy was more knowledgeable about sex than some who were twice his age. "But while I'm gone don't eat up all the fucking popcorn."

Brett returned and the three brothers and their young charge sat there in silence. Each of them in turn glanced at the dark television screen and then just as quickly looked away.

"What was that you was watchin'?" Charles finally asked.

"Ah… just a movie," commented Brent.

"That man had no clothes on."

"Ah, yeah, ah, he was, ah, going to take a bath."

"You could see his pee-er," Charles giggled.

"Ah, yeah, well.…" Brent looked at his brothers for help.

"How come he had a dog collar and stuff?"

"Ah, well, he was playing he was a puppy."

"That's the other reason he had no clothes on," contributed Benny.

"The boy with him had a boner," Charles observed.

The three brothers glanced at each other in surprise. "What do you know about boners?" asked Benny.

"I know guys who date Cheryl get them all the time," Charles said, referring to his stacked sixteen-year-old sister.

The Brewster brothers could understand that. They themselves had spent many enjoyable hours in the same condition spying through her open window as she got ready for bed or for her bath.

"How do you know that?" asked Brett, his long, fine blond hair bouncing as he shook his head to clear the image of Cheryl from his mind.

"Sometimes when I get up at night they're smooching on the sofa and you can see their pants are sticking out, just like that boy's speedos were," Charles said with a smile. "I didn't know why that was at first, but then I heard one of her dumb dates telling another boy while they was waiting for Cheryl and her girlfriend one day 'bout how smooching with her gave him a boner, and he grabbed himself between the legs so I figured it out."

The image of Charles' well-endowed sister necking on the sofa with one of her boyfriends immediately came to the three brothers' mind, and just the thought caused a stirring in their pants.

"Yahhhhhh! Aggggghhhhh! Guuuuuuyyyyyyys!"

Charles jumped and looked as white as a sheet at the cries and the loud thumping. The three brothers looked at each other, barely able to suppress their grins.

"Gaaahhhhh! Hellllllp! Brrrrreeeet!"

"See, I told you there was a boogeyman! What are we going to do?" Charles cried as he jumped up excitedly, his voice quavering and his eyes wide open in fear.

"Fuuuuck! Jesusgoddamnfuckin'sonofabitchgetthegoddamnfuckin'shitinheregoddamnit!"

The three brothers looked at each other again, this time in puzzlement.

That was not the way it was supposed to go. Bobby was supposed to come strutting out with his sleeves rolled up and brushing off his hands and announcing how he'd thrashed the monster but good and how he'd never bother Charles again.

"Stupid little twerp," muttered Brett. "Can't even get a simple instruction right."

"What are we gonna do?" Charles asked, glancing at one brother and then the next in such a panic that what the older boy had said didn't register.

"Helllllllllp you fuckerrrrrrrrrrrrrs!"

"We better go," said Brett.

Not only was Bobby going to get shit for not following the plan, he was going to get it for cursing too. The occasional word would probably go unnoticed by the seven-year-old, but the stream of vulgarity he'd just uttered, and with Chucky's current emotional stress, that was really taking a chance. If the kid started to use that sort of language himself and his parents found out where he'd learned it, that would be the end of their babysitting money.

Swinging open the door to Charles's room and ready to give Bobby a blast, his three brothers and Charles stared at the sight before them. There laying on the floor, his arms and shoulders and head sticking out from under the bed was Bobby, screaming his head off. The bed was bouncing up and down.

"Help me! Quick, pull me out!"

Brent and Brett knelt beside their kid brother. "You little ham," whispered Brent. "I said to make some noise and come back out. You're supposed to be the hero, not scaring the shit out Chuck!"

"I'm not fuckin' acting. Something's got me!" Bobby replied as he slid a bit further under the bed.

"Yeah, right," laughed Brent.

"Fuck! I'm serious!"

His knuckles were white from gripping onto the edge of the bed and the look on his face and the tone of his voice were sincere. Bobby thought on his feet and usually had a comment for everything, and the ten-year-old was a great actor besides, but he wasn't that good. Still, a boogeyman? Com'on! Not sure what to make out of what was going on, the twins grabbed him by the upper arms and began to tug him out from under the bed. At four-foot-four [1.32 m] and sixty-four pounds [29 kg], he slid out easily, but suddenly it was as if his body got caught on something, and then he began to be drawn back under. The boys were really perplexed. There was no way he could do that himself. They yanked harder, dragging him part way back out again, but to their surprise he was pulled back under the bed once more. The twins looked at each other, and then nodded for Benny, who couldn't figure out just what was going on, to join them.

"Why are we trying to save him anyway?" asked Brett loudly as he winked at his brothers.

"Yeah, if whatever it is that's under the bed wants him that bad, they're welcome to him," said Brent, glancing over at Charles and giving him a wink too.

"Can I have his baseball card collection?" asked Benny, catching on quickly.

"Sure."

"What sortta shit you guys talking about?" asked Bobby. The four of them joked around and poked fun at each other constantly, but they always came to each other's defence and help. That's what brothers who care about each other do.

"Okay, whoever or whatever you are, you can have him," Brent said as he and his brother let go.

As Bobby began to slide back under the bed, the two brothers leaped up and grabbed opposite sides of it. At the count of three, they flipped it over. They froze for a moment at the sight that met their eyes. There was the ugliest looking creature they'd ever seen, or imagined for that matter. It was laying flat on its stomach and holding Bobby's ankles firmly with long, gnarly fingers. Initially the creature had been about the same height and weight as Charles, and the boys' first impression was that it was a midget. However, now that it was exposed, it began to grow, swelling up until it was its normal size, five-foot-ten [1.78 m] and a hundred and seventy pounds [77 kg]. It was blood-red in colour with sunken, rheumy, grey eyes, a hawk-like nose, and a pulsating forehead. Its body was covered with warts and large purplish boils visible under its baggy, tattered clothes.

It glared at them with its rheumy eyes for a moment before letting go of Bobby. Snarling at them with a mouth lined with long, fang-like teeth, it leaped to its feet and made a dash for the open window. The four brothers were faster.

Tackling it to the floor, the four leaped on it, one landing on its head, one on its back and the other two sittings on its legs. Quickly unbuckling and removing its belt, Brent looped it about the creature's legs and drew it tight. Rolling it over and popping off its shirt buttons, Brett pulled off its tattered shirt and used it to tie its arms behind its back. The boys finally stepped back and looked down at their captive.

"Shit, it's ugly."

"You can say that again."

"Even uglier then Benny," observed Bobby with a devilish grin, once more his normal self. Actually, at just over eighty pounds [36 kg] and standing at almost four-foot seven [1.40 m], the eleven-year-old was a slightly older copy of his younger brother, except his dark brown gelled hair was spiked.

"Up yours," his brother responded, a standard reply of the four boys.

"Maybe later," Bobby grinned with a twinkle in his eyes. "After Brett," he added, grinning even wider.

"Who the hell are you anyway?" asked Brent, addressing the ugly creature and keeping his brothers' attention on the problem at hand.

"I think you boys know," came the reply, the voice coarse and raspy. Charles took a step back. Being with the four boys he admired more than anything, he didn't cower, but he sure wanted to.

"You gotta be kidding," replied Brett.

Their captive just glared up at them.

"You ever hide under my bed?" Bobby asked suspiciously.

"Yes. Many times. But you were never alone long enough for me to do anything."

"Fucking cunt," said Bobby. Walking over to him, he gave him a swift kick in the ribs with his heel. The creature winced, but in that Bobby had lost his slipper in the ordeal the ten-year-old's kick wasn't very painful. "Why the shit do you hide under kids' beds and scare the hell out of them anyway?" Bobby asked, his quick temper flaring and his eyes flashing. The creature still said nothing as it stared up at him blankly. This time Bobby was smarter. He delivered a well-aimed kick between its legs. The creature curled up in pain. "Well? I asked you a question cunt!" When there was still no response, the ten-year-old drew back his foot again.

"Alright, alright," the creature responded.

"So what the fuck's this all about?"

"I think you know."

"You really steal kids?" Brent asked.

"Yes."

"What for?" asked Charles. "What do you do with them?"

"Depends," came the sullen reply.

"On what?" the seven-year-old asked.

"On what is needed. On the boy."

"Like?" Charles persisted.

"Most of them are shipped out of the country, to work in factories and sweat shops, or on farms, especially the strong ones. Little babies fetch a high price on the black market and are mostly sold to couples who can't have children. And of course there's always a market for the good-looking ones, ones like you boys," he said, leering despite his position.

"You don't eat them?" asked Charles.

The creature snorted. "Haven't for centuries. Used to, but times have changed. It's much eviler to kidnap children and sell them off."

"So how many children have you kidnapped?"

"Thousands. You lose track after a while. Eternity is a long time you know, especially in hell."

The boys looked at each other, and then back at the creature on the floor.

"So what we going to do with him?" asked Brent.

"Turn him over to the cops?" suggested Benny.

"For what?" the creature asked insolently.

"Trying to kidnap Chuck, and Bobby."

"Got no proof of that."

"Then for hiding under my bed," challenged Charles.

"I'm sure the penalty will be high for that," the man chuckled.

"He's right. He'll just be back out on the street again in no time."

"Or under the bed that is."

"So what we going to do with him?"

"He's bad," observed Charles.

"Very."

"He should be spanked."

The brothers looked at each other, and then as one they thought of one of the web sites they'd visited recently.

"Yeah," agreed Brent, "that works for me."

"Oh, please, don't hurt me," begged the boogeyman in mock fright. "I promise I'll be good." If he'd known who he was dealing with, he wouldn't have been so arrogant.

"First," said Brett, deep in thought, "you need a bath."

"Yeah, you're filthy," Benny agreed.

"What do you expect spending all my time hiding in musty closets and under kids' beds with dust bunnies and missing socks and week-old tuna sandwiches," he asked.

"Week-old tuna sandwiches?"

"Hasn't your mother ever packed you a lunch you hated?"

"Hey," said Bobby, his eyes sparkling.

"Forget it brother," warned Benny. "I'm sleeping above you, remember?"

"And we're in the same room," added the twins together.

"Go fill the tub Chuck," Brett instructed, "and be sure the water is nice and hot." Charles ran off to obey.

Finding a pair of round-ended scissors in Charles's desk, the four brothers labouriously cut off the Boogeyman's tattered pants and filthy underwear and pulled off his smelly socks. Each taking an arm or a leg, they carried him down the hall to the bathroom. The water was steaming and he let out an ear-piercing scream as they dropped him in. Spotting Charles's sister's bubble bath, they dumped half of it in the tub and then proceeded to scrub down their victim. The warm water, the perfumed soap, and five sexy-looking boys running their hands all over his body had the inevitable effect on the evil creature, something that did not go unnoticed by the sex-wise boys and the curious seven-year-old. Finally pulling him out of the bath, they giggled at the sight of his huge, protruding, circumcised erection. It was just as red as the rest of his body.

"Chuck, I seen some rubber bands in your sister's room. Go find them."

Charles hastened to obey. By the time the boys had dried off their victim and taken him back to Charles' room, the seven-year-old had found the bands. Taking one of the thick ones, Brent twisted it several times to make it as small as he could, and then stretching it apart, slipped it down to the base of the huge, twitching cock. The second band he made as tight as possible too and slipped it over the evil creature's hairy balls.

Meanwhile, his brothers had been rearranging the furniture. Turning the boy's toy box around lengthwise, they had their captive lay on it on his stomach and chest, his head hanging over one end and his crotch and legs over the other. Then taking Charles's toy X-man handcuffs, they untied his arms and stretching them out in front of him, cuffed his wrists to the leg of Charles' dresser. Removing the belt around his ankles, they used Charles's kite string to stretch out the man's legs and tie them spread-eagled to the two corners at the foot of his bed.

Brent stepped up to him and looked down at their captive. "Perfect," he said with a grin as he ran his hand over the man's unprotected rump. "Now, you're going to get a spank for each child you've ever stolen." So saying he drew his arm back and delivered the first, solid smack to the boogeyman's ass.

The man winced as the pain shot through his meaty rump, its sensitivity having been heightened by the boiling water. He had not felt that sort of pain since he was a child and it reminded him of the many times his father had punished him this way. He squirmed and tried to break out of his bonds. The slaps being delivered by the boy's hand to his naked butt hurt, but the humiliation of being punished like a little child by a boy barely out of childhood himself was far more painful. Brent smacked him again and again, and with each smack his rump became more and more tender.

"Thirty." Smack. "Thirty-one." Smack.

"His bum is turning redder," giggled Charles.

"It's going to be as red as a fire truck by the time I'm done," promised Brent. "Thirty-two."

As the thirteen-year-old continued his punishment, two things happened.

One, the boogeyman could no longer hide his pain as smack after smack landed on his now tender, glowing bottom. He grimaced and bit his lower lip and inhaled sharply with each blow, much to the amusement of the five boys. The second thing that became very evident was that Brent was enjoying this immensely. Even his baggy cargo pants could not hide the erection that had developed as a result of spanking this adult's naked butt.

"Fifty."

"Alright, alright. What do you want from me? You can't spank me several thousand times." He knew that eventually the boy would tire, but he also knew the boy was young and angry and could easily keep going for a long time yet. He wasn't. He could not take more of this pain, nor the humiliation. That had been one of his many weaknesses as a mortal. Besides, he knew everyone had their price, even thirteen-year-old boys.

"Promise you'll never try to steal Chuck again."

"Alright, alright, I promise."

That was an easy promise. There were hundreds of thousands of children to steal in the country. Charles was a cute kid and would have brought good money on the pervert pedo market, but there was nothing that special about the boy that such a promise would be a major loss. Brent stopped and walked around to face his victim. The man could not believe it. The kid was so simple and naive. If he'd know that was all it would have taken he would have promised after the first ten spanks.

"That's it?" asked Benny, also unable to believe this. "That's all his punishment?"

Brent drew down his fly of his black Guess jeans, and with some difficulty, extracted his slightly more than four inch [10 cm] erection. Standing in front of the bound man, he slowly began to jack off.

"Alright!" said Benny, his faith in his brother restored.

"What are you doing?"

"Aw, com'on, you know what I'm doing."

"Of course I know what. Why are you doing it?"

"Com'on, you know why too."

"Stop."

"You have to be joking."

"At least aim that thing away from me."

"Why should I?"

"I did as you asked. I promised I'd never try to steal Charles again."

"And I stopped spanking you."

"But-."

It was too late. The spanking had gotten the thirteen-year-old hot. He grunted and arched his hips and the first of his ropes of cum spurted out and struck the man in the face. The runny boy juice struck him between the eyes and oozed down the slope of his nose and hung from the tip as a long white pendent. The fourteen year-old's balls were loaded and spurt after spurt erupted out of his stiff cock. His cum ran down the man' cheeks and chin, leaving behind slimy trails. It struck his lips and the smell of fresh boy juice wafted up to his nostrils. Charles stood there watching with his mouth and his big brown eyes wide open.

"Okay, Charles. It's your turn," said Brent, finally turning to him.

"My turn?" Charles asked, his eyes still fixed on Brent's stiff pee-er. A droplet of that strange white pee clung to the peehole.

"Sure, you want to spank him don't you?"

"Hey, now wait a minute. I've promised." As the glob of cum clinging to his lip dripped into his mouth, he was immediately sorry he'd opened it.

"You promised to my terms. Now you have to deal with Charles."

"I can't hit as hard as you," Charles said regretfully.

"Hit him with this," suggested Brent, picking up one of Charles' slippers.

"My slipper?"

Brent smiled and bent over and whispered in Charles' ear. Charles grinned and picked up his Mickey Mouse slipper.

"Okay, Mister boogeyman, this is for scaring me."

With that he began to smack the monster with his slipper, whack after whack as hard as he could. The seven-year-old didn't have that much strength, but with his ass cheeks already sensitized, the man's butt began to sting almost immediately. After a dozen solid slaps, Charles stopped, and turning around his slipper, he rubbed the furry trim against the man's butthole.

"Ahhh," the man responded as he strained against his restraints. "Gmmph, aaaaaah, uuuuunnnnnhhhhh!" The man squirmed with the new agony. "Oh shit, kid, stop. Aggggh! Oh shit! Stop!"

Being told to stop was all the more reason for Charles to continue. He had thought that Brent's suggestion would be fun, but he had no idea that the man would respond to his tickling so violently. To the seven-year-old, the man's discomfort was sweet revenge. Of course he had no way of knowing that the tickling feeling the man was experiencing was not the same as when the boy got his ribs or underarms tickled. These tickles were tickles of stimulation, and the erotic ripples emanating out from his anus were as painful as electric shocks to the man. He opened and closed his irritated butthole in desperation, which also opened and closed his peehole. He squirmed and withered on Charles' toy box in erotic agony as the seven-year-old boy gleefully tortured him.

Brent nodded, and Charles stopped and once more began to smack the evil man's bottom. He delivered a dozen sharp smacks with his slipper, causing the man's red bum to glow even redder. He then looked up at Brent, and when the teenager nodded, the youngster once again turned his slipper around. This time, however, instead of rubbing it along the man's ass crack, he began to rub the fur along the man's erection, readily accessible between the man's outspread legs and jutting out from his body like an obscene rudder as the man balanced on the toy box on his stomach and chest.

"Agggh, agggh no!" the man called out as he squirmed even more violently to Charles' delight.

The furry trim lightly touched the boogeyman's blood-engorged cock, swollen even larger with the restraining rubber band at the base. He quivered and ached as it ran along the shaft, now lined with blood-filled blue veins. When it touched the sensitive rim of the glans of his cut cock, the man jerked and pulled on his restraints. The tight toy handcuffs cut into his wrists, and the thin cord of the kite string cut into his ankles. As pain shot through his wrists and ankles, an even greater pain shot though his deep purple cockhead.

"Aggggh! Noooooo! Kid, you got to stop!" he called out. "Oh shiiiiiiiit! Stop!" he screamed as he banged his naked body against the hard plastic toy box. "Fuckin' shit I have to cum! Stop!"

"Okay," said Charles agreeably, and once more he began to smack the man's backside with his slipper. Over and over he smacked, this time two dozen smacks, and then once again he began to alternately caress the evil man's butthole and his grossly swollen cock with his slipper. He was making him pay but good and he giggled with delight.

"Attaboy Chuck!" encouraged Brent, causing the boy to beam even more broadly. He could not think of a better moment in his short life than that.

The monster from hell jerked and strained against his restraints. Deep cuts had formed in his wrists and ankles and they were throbbing painfully. His tenderized butt was pulsating with an inner heat, glowing like the burner of an oven. Worst of all, was the ache in his nuts and the burning demand being sent from his itching cockhead to ejaculate. His swollen nuts below the rubber band were doing their best, but there was no way that he could cum.

"Alright, alright!" he called as Charles paused to catch his breath. "What is it you want? Just say, anything."

"Apologize for trying to catch me, and for scaring me."

"You have to be kidding," the man snorted. Apologize, to a seven-year-old kid? He was an adult, and a thousand year's old. He was a fiend and a demon who had stolen thousands of innocents such as this child, and who answered only to those more powerful than himself in the hierarchy of the underworld.

The torture resumed, spank, tickle and arouse. Benny suddenly nudged Brent, and with a leer, nodded toward Charles's crotch. Charles's white flannel pajamas were sticking out, and when he swung his arm, the fly opened to reveal a tiny pink projection sticking up inside. Spanking the man's naked butt, and rubbing his furry slipper along his stiff dick had the expected results on the boy. Charles was totally unaware of the reaction of his body, and even if he had noticed, the seven-year-old would have had no idea why his body had reacted so.

The boogeyman finally gave in. Even when he'd been mortal he'd had a low tolerance for pain. It was because of his weak will that he'd gotten into so much trouble as a mortal and eventually had been condemned to the underworld.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry I tried to catch you. I'm sorry I scared you. Just stop it!" he begged as he squirmed on the plastic toy box as the furry slipper sent a maddening thrill through the rim of his cockhead. "Fucking shit, I have to cum so bad!"

Charles sat back with a satisfied grin. This was alright. He stared at his captive for a moment and thought. "What does that mean?" he finally asked as he looked up at the Brewster brothers.

"What does what mean?" asked Benny, being the authority for the four brothers on sex and strange adult information.

"That he has to come."

The brothers looked at each other, and then back at Charles, or more appropriately, at his barely noticeable bulge.

"How does your pee-er feel?" asked Bobby, stepping up to the seven-year-old and suddenly groping him. Charles giggled and squirmed as Bobby squeezed his tiny, swollen tube, but he didn't try to get away. The groping felt good. "Well? How does your pee-er feel?"

"Well, itchy," Charles responded with a giggle again. Squirming with Bobby grabbing his pee-er felt even better.

"You like to play with it?"

Charles looked at him blankly.

"You know, rub it with your fingers."

Charles shrugged.

"You never done it?"

Charles shook his head in the negative.

"Shit. Never?" Bobby asked in disbelief.

Charles shook his head, this time in the affirmative.

"Then its time you learned all about cumming," Bobby announced, and with a quick flip of his wrist he had slipped Charles's little two inch [5 cm] prong out of his Pokemon pajamas.

Charles froze, not sure what to do or say, and he began to blush a bright red. He had been told for years by his parents that nobody was supposed to see his private parts. However, the seven-year-old also knew that what his parents said and what the Brewster boys often did were not the same. Besides, something very strange had happened to his private part, something he was not aware of having ever happened before. It was hard and sticking straight up in the air, like Brent's had, and his immediate thought was that it had to pee that white pee that Brent had. Brent had looked like that was fun, but he had no idea how a guy did it.

"And I think this nice bum that you've just warmed up would be perfect for your first time," Bobby continued, nudging the confused boy until he was standing behind the Boogeyman. "Now, what you do first is stick your pee-er up his bumhole."

"Up his bumhole?" Charles asked, wrinkling up his nose.

"Yeah."

"Eeeew."

"Trust me, it's not like you think. You'll like it."

Charles looked up at Bobby. He was ten, and he was wise, and someone you could trust. "Really?"

"Yeah," Bobby replied, and his brothers all joined in to voice their agreement.

"What the hell do you boys think you're doing?" protested their victim.

"Should he have some lube?" asked Benny, ignoring the comment.

"Naw, not with his size," said Brent knowledgeably. "It's perfect."

"Com'on," urged Bobby. "Do it. You can be the first of us to do him."

"You're going to do it too?"

"Of course."

"What?" cried their captive. "Now just wait a damn minute here!"

Charles beamed, oblivious to the man's objections. The others were going to do it too. Him and the others, like a team, a team he was a member of. This was going to be all right. It was going to be better than all right, he was going to be the first. "So how do I do it?"

Bobby moved the seven-year-old boy into position. Then as Charles held onto the man's ass cheeks still hot from his spanking with his equally hot hands, Bobby took his tiny dick between his thumb and first finger. The horny, perverted ten-year-old guided the little probe as Charles pressed forward. His slender little cock and the man's large anus did not require any lube as Brent has predicted. Charles easily penetrated him as far as he could stick his little dick. Under Bobby's instructions, he began to work his hips in and out.

"Now, isn't that a great way to scratch your itch?"

"Awesome," agreed the boy, paying only partial attention to what Bobby was saying as he concentrated on the new sensation assaulting his cock and his mind. Never had he experienced anything like this. It was wonderful, and it was the Brewster brothers who had revealed it to him.

The four brothers were enjoying the experience as much as Charles, and all quickly became erect watching him fucking the tortured man balanced on his toy box, even Brent although he'd just cum. Each thought back to his own first discovery of the pleasure that tube of flesh between his legs could bring, and each reached down and squeezed it. As for the Boogeyman, as he lay there helplessly before the five boys, he began to think of all the ways he was going to make them pay for what they were doing to him.

The itch in Charles's dickhead became more intense, and the seven-year-old began to fuck more furiously, slamming his flannel pajamas against the creature's warm ass and grasping his hips tightly as he drew back and then delivered another slam. The four brothers all glanced at each other and leered knowingly. The look of awe and delight on Charles's face gave them all a warm feeling. They began to fiddle with their stiff cocks.

"How's it feelin'?" asked Bobby, already knowing the answer.

"Awesome," panted Charles. "His bum is so hot!"

The itchiness in the young boy's dick head was gradually replaced by a burning, which he found painful but pleasant at the same time. It was frightening, but he trusted his young mentors. Charles worked his hips to and fro rapidly and instinctively in an attempt to bring the new discomfort to an end. His little penis throbbed as the blood pulsated through it and his breathing grew laboured as the pain turned to immense pleasure. Suddenly his eyes glazed over and he began to twitch repeatedly. At the same time he began to really slam the man's ass although the twitching made his thrusts erratic. He grunted and groaned loudly and repeatedly as he worked his cock in and out of the man's asshole. Finally easing his stiff penis out of the hot, pulsating hole, he stumbled back and sat down on his bed with a long sigh. His little chest heaved as he gasped for breath. .

"Now that is cumming," explained Bobby.

"Wow."

"We're going to have to work on your vocabulary next," said Bobby seriously. "Especially the adjectives."

"I'm next," announced Benny eagerly as he stepped up to their bound captive.

"You? I've done nothing to you!" the ravaged man responded, realizing each of the boys intended on having a turn at him.

"Don't matter," Benny said matter-of-factly. "Be right back."

A few seconds later he returned with a huge grin, and a fly swatter. Stepping up behind the Boogeyman, he began to wallop him with all his strength. Over and over he walloped, and the Boogeyman jerked with each swipe of the fly swatter. The pain was bad enough, but even worse was the humiliation. Beaten with a fly swatter by an eleven-year-old boy, and just raped by a seven-year-old! After a thousand years, how could this have happened? He had invaded countless homes and captured thousands of children, but he'd never met any children like these four brothers. He winced and jerked as the swatter slapped his tender ass, no longer being able to hide his pain.

"Not only are you going to not try to capture Charles anymore, but you are going to protect him from other boogeymen," demanded Benny.

The Boogeyman could not believe it. There was no way he could ever do what Benny was requiring of him. He was a denizen from hell. He lived with other Boogeymen, if living is what you could call it existing in hell. The creature could not even begin to imagine what the others would do to him if he tried to interfere in their lives. Gritting his teeth and swallowing hard, he took the punishment. The otherwise silent room resounded with slap after slap of the fly swatter. His butt cheeks burned, but he could not do what the boy was demanding of him. Slap after slap hit his butt, each one causing more pain as his backside became inflamed. His cock was beginning to ache with the dammed flow of blood, and he knew if the band wasn't removed soon the sensitive vessels were going to begin to burst. Finally, unable to stand the pain any longer, and seeing no reason why he should risk damaging his manhood, he agreed to the eleven-year-old boy's terms.

"And now my reward," announced the eleven-year-old happily.

Pushing down his cargo pants and underwear, he stepped up behind the captive. His young boy cock had been hard for so long it was drawn to the man's backside like an iron nail to a magnet. Although it was twice as long and thick as Charles's cock, Benny did not pause to lubricate it. He was hot, and Charles had prepared the man's hole for him. He grasped the man's hot hips, and with a single lunge, rammed his young boy cock into the man's asshole. The Boogeyman tensed as he felt the young boy penetrate him and a shock of pain rip up his ass. The boy's cock was slender and short, somewhere between three and four inches [8-10 cm] long, but his asshole was not accustomed to being penetrated.

The pain was momentary. As Benny began to work his hips to and fro as Charles had, the stimulation of the boy's stiff hot cock methodically working in and out of his rectum changed the man's pain to pleasure. The Boogeyman welcomed the change, and he concentrated on the pleasure rippling through his otherwise abused backside. Before long Benny was gasping and quivering with his dry orgasm and the Boogeyman was thrusting and aching to get off himself, his mind trying to will his flesh to do what was impossible. Charles grinned, knowing exactly how the two of them felt.

"Who's next?"

"Me," announced Brett. "For me you gotta promise to never steal any more kids."

"That is impossible! I can't promise that," the man protested. "That's my nature. That's my purpose. I can't promise not to do something that is my sole reason for existing."

"Then that's tough shit for you," was Brett's reply. "Chuck, go in your sister's room and get one of her bras. They're in the third drawer of her dresser."

Charles ran to obey, not even questioning how Brett knew that. He was thirteen, and thirteen-year-old's knew a lot of things. Brett of course had spied enough on the girl getting dressed and undressed to know more than just where her bras were kept. Charles returned in seconds, carrying a frilly white bra with pink flowers embroidered on it. He handed it to Brett, wondering what the boy was going to do with it.

Drawing back the elastic, the thirteen-year-old boy let go with a resounding whap, causing their captive to jerk with the pain even harder than he had the previous three times he'd been spanked. Over and over Brent snapped the elastic and little bluish welts rose on the man's cherry-red butt. Over and over the elastic struck until his butt looked like the zit marked face of a teen with a severe acne problem.

He had kidnapped children when he'd been a human, and his purpose ever since he'd been condemned to hell had been to kidnap little children. His solitary joy was the look of fear on their faces as he stalked them in their darkened bedrooms, and there was no greater reward than the look of terror when he turned them over to some sweat-shop owner or some perverted pedo. He concentrated on the tear-stained face of a different boy he'd kidnapped with each snap of the bra, but finally even that could not block out the pain. His butt had to look like raw hamburger, and it felt like it had been stung by a thousand wasps.

He had an eternity of punishment in hell, but he could not take the punishment being delivered by the thirteen-year-old blond. He finally relented and promised he would never steal another child. He had no idea how binding these promises were considering he was a demon from hell, but knowing the limitless torture that existed, he would be surprised if there was not some code that bound him to these oaths. There were many ways that the punished could be further punished in the underworld.

As Brent dropped his pants and underwear and the Boogeyman felt the teenager pressing his hard, hot cockhead against his tender, raw hole, the creature also wondered where being beaten and raped by these five young boys was going to place him in the scheme of things. If word got to his colleagues, or to his superiors, he would likely be finished as a boogeyman. There were thousands of lower beings and disgusting things that he could be turned into. If that were to happen, then what would be the meaning of his oaths this night? Such are the thoughts of the damned. Perhaps more accurately, such are the thoughts of those under the control of the Brewster brothers.

The penetration of the boy's hard, hot cock interrupted his morbid thoughts, and he welcomed the diversion even if the diversion was his rape. Of the three cocks that had now been up his asshole, Brent's was the longest, and as the head of the boy's pecker struck his prostate, the man whimpered and his balls began to ache all over again as they strained to release the load that had built up inside them. As Brent gasped and panted with the ecstasy of fucking the man's hot, tight asshole, the man gasped and panted in desperation to get off.

The thirteen-year-old screwed the man hard and furiously, his own pleasure the only goal in mind. He loved the way his cock felt when it was being stimulated, and he loved the way it felt when he came. If he could, he'd come all day long. As for the Boogeyman, a thousand years had not dulled his lust. Although he was more accustomed to being the one doing the fucking, there was something erotic about being screwed by a thirteen-year-old.

It was not long before Brent achieved his goal and the hot teenager groaned and clenched his eyes as he shot his hot, thick load up the man's butt. When he finally withdrew, the Boogeyman wailed in desperation and the inability to achieve his own ejaculation.

"Just you left Bobby. Which of these you want to spank him with?" Brett asked.

"None," the boy replied. "I want Brent's runners."

"Wicked!"

"Yep," he said with a grin.

Brent readily removed his runners. Taking one, Bobby removed the laces, and then placing it over the man's nose and mouth, he began to lace it up behind his head. Brent was very conscious of his hygiene, but after being in a pair of hot runners for fifteen hours, even the cleanest feet begin to pick up an odour, especially when they belong to a growing, active teen. The man began to gag with the assault of the sharp odour of hot, sweaty teen feet and he had to fight back the urge to upchuck. Taking the other runner, Bobby gave a resounding smack to his captive's ass. The blow left behind a pattern of tread marks on the creature's backside.

"Cool," said Charles, observing the red pattern on the smooth butt.

Over and over Bobby smacked him. With each smack, the wave on the top of his head bobbed. Except for Charles, he had the greatest reason for spanking the creature. The man had really scared him, and he was going to make him pay for it. Besides, spanking his bare butt with Brent's runner was fucking hot, and there was nothing the recently-turned ten-year-old liked better than getting hot. His little cocklet, all of three inch [7½ cm] when stiff, had been aching long before he'd gotten his turn to do the spanking, and now it was itching for attention even more.

He finally announced his requirement of the evil man, that the Boogeyman promise to try to free all the other kids he had ever kidnapped. The previous demand that he stop trying to kidnap boys was contrary to his nature. Bobby's demand that he try to free those he'd kidnapped demanded of him that he do just the opposite to what he'd been doing for a thousand years. Despite the pain of his rump, and the humiliation he was experiencing, that was not something he could agree too. Bobby didn't really care how long it was going to take him to agree as he joyfully walloped the man's backside. There was not a square inch of skin that did not have a red pattern from the runner tread. The man gritted his teeth as he struggled with the conflict.

He still had not come to terms with the problem when Bobby pushed down his jeans and underwear and his slender young cock suddenly eased up the man's asshole. Already ravaged by three other cocks, the Boogeyman quivered with the sharp pain. Despite the slenderness and shortness of the boy's weapon, it felt monstrous and sharp as a knife as he began to slice in and out of the man's tender rectum. He reached around and began to jack off the man as he fucked his ass, and the man trembled and jerked his hips and cursed the boy, which only made him wank all the harder. The man's nuts were drawn up under the stem of his cock like hard little marbles, and they ached with a pain as severe as if they were being kicked. On top of that, his cockhead burned with desire and demanded a release of his semen, but there was nothing he could do. By this time the man's cock had turned blue with lack of oxygen and cut off circulation and it throbbed dully, feeling detached from his body and twice its usual size.

Finally unable to stand it any longer, the man gave in and agreed to the boy's terms, but only if the boy would let him cum. That was enough to trigger Bobby's orgasm and he groaned and trembled with the joy and awe of his dry climax. It was awesome, and he could not wait until he was old enough to come. He humped rapidly for another half a minute, causing his cock to itch and burn hotter and hotter until he could stand the itch no longer. When he finally drew his cock out of the man's rectum, the tube of flesh was as red as the boogeyman's rump.

Bobby looked at his brothers, and they all looked at Charles. "What do you say, Chuck? Wanna see him cum?" asked Bobby.

"Sure," Charles said with a shrug.

Unlocking the toy handcuffs, they allowed the man to sit on the toy box. Although his wrists were arching from where the toy handcuffs had cut into them, and though his hands were numb from having their circulation cut off, the Boogeyman eagerly grasped his aching erection and began to rapidly jack it off. He did not care five young boys were watching him. He did not care if they were laughing and nudging each other as they smirked at him. In seconds his blood-engorged, numbed cock was fountaining out his pent-up juices. Rope after rope flew up in the air and landed back down on his body. The boys giggled and smirked and cheered him on.

They finally untied his legs and told him to come back and visit sometime and they'd have another fun party. He said nothing as he quickly slunk away, wondering how he was going to keep this from his colleagues, and especially from the big boss himself.

The five boys returned to the family room and while Bobby surfed in search of something appropriate for Charles to watch on the television, Brett popped a fresh bowl of popcorn and Benny got out some chilled cans of soda. They finally decided to watch the Disney Channel, but in less than half an hour Charles was stretched out on the floor sound asleep.

"Hey, look," observed Bobby. "He's got a little boner again."

Sure enough, his little stiff cocklet was sticking out of the open fly of his pajamas.

"I think the next time we babysit, we should teach him a few more of the fun things that he can do with it," observed Brett.

"Oh yeah," the others agreed. They high fived, and then inserting their video of Labour Day into the VCR, they lay back and reached for each other's cocks with their greasy fingers. The four brothers had several fun things in mind to pass the time until Chuck's parents returned home, and salted, buttered cock was featured in each of them.

A Brewster Halloween

31 October 1999

This is a story involving four brothers, two preteens and two thirteen-year-olds, a collection of neighbourhood children of assorted ages, and four hideous creatures of the night (no, not those ladies for rent on the street corner this is a gay story)

If you don't find any humour in the living dead, or the idea of preteens and teens being sexually active, you'd better skip this story.
This is the eighth of the Brewster Boys Series. Comments can be sent to the author, J.O. Dickingson at authorsix(at)hotmail(dot)comwho suggests you do a good deed and save some teeth--hand out condoms instead of candy to the children this Halloween

Posted on ASSGM: ...

— tb-demons – non-cons oral anal —
10,000 words (20 pages)

"No. I'm not," replied the thirteen-year-old's father.

"That's fu-, ah, f-ah-," stumbled Bobby.

"A funny idea," interrupted Brett, coming to his kid brother's rescue.

"Frustrating," suggested Brent.

"Fair, NOT," added Benny, doing his part to help.

"Yeah, it ain't fair," Bobby agreed, giving his brothers a grateful smile.

"It isn't fair," corrected Bobby's mother.

"See, even Mom agrees."

Normally the four boys would have laughed and high-fived, but this was fucking serious.

"One of us got to stay home and hand out candy?"

"One of you twins. Your mother agreed to help with the church supper for the senior citizens weeks ago, and I've just found out I have to catch a flight to Canada for an important business meeting. There will be nobody home."

"There's Canada, messing up our lives again," said eleven-year-old Benny, referring to South Park: Bigger, Longer and Uncut, a recent animated adult-rated movie he and his brothers were not supposed to have seen.

"So why does one of us have to stay home?" asked Brett, the logical thinker among the four brothers.

"We've already gone through this. We don't want the house left unattended, not on Halloween night. There has been too much vandalism and too many break-ins these past few years."

"Yeah, like Brett or I will be able to do anything to stop that," Brent said, his voice sharp with annoyance. Usually the one quick to make brownie points for the brothers, the comment was not typical for the thirteen-year-old twin. The situation was serious.

"Brent," warned his father as he raised his eyebrow.

That was all it took to tell the teenage boy that he'd crossed over that fine line between acceptable objection and insolence. He might be full of piss and vinegar as his grandfather said, the meaning of which none of the boys could figure out but which they took to be a compliment, and he definitely was on the mischievous side, but he was a good boy at heart, and loved and respected his father. "Sorry Dad. It's just that we had big plans, the four of us."

The boys did. They had worked out a plan whereby the four would each go to a different house, and if the stuff they got was good, they'd signal the others and they'd go there too. That way they could skip the houses that gave little away, or even worse, handed out healthy food. They also had planned on using their roller blades so they could get about faster and hit more houses, so they were really looking forward to trick or treating this year. They could still do all that as a threesome, but it wouldn't be as much fun as with four. The boys had always been very fond of each other and rarely did anything without all four being involved. Besides, one of them would be losing out on all the treats.

"Look, we'll be sure there's lots of extra candy so whoever stays home won't be left out," said Barry Brewster, having been a boy himself and knowing that was on their mind. He himself had gotten into his share of mischief as a boy, and Halloween was still one of his favourite special days, and not just because he had a sweet tooth.

"But half the fun is going out from door to door."

"Well. There is nothing your mom or I can do about it, so you'll have to make a choice." He felt bad about it, but he could think of no other solution.

"If Brent has to stay, so will I," said Brett.

"Same here."

"One of you have to go with Benny and Bobby."

"Me and Bobby are old enough to go by ourselves," objected Benny, though going without his two older brothers wouldn't be any fun.

"Bobby and I," corrected their mother.

"Gee yeah, Mom, with your new haircut, you do look awful young," observed Brent, trying to make up for his earlier slip.

"Oh yeah, bet if you went door to door they'd think you was a kid for sure," agreed Benny.

"A big-boobed kid," mouthed Bobby behind his hand, causing his brothers to snicker.

"Yeah, that new haircut makes you look way sexy," contributed Brett.

"Sexy?" asked Brenda and Barry Brewster together as they looked at their thirteen-year-old son.

"Well, ah, for a mom that is," he quickly tried to cover without any success.

"Everyone's always saying how great you look," helped Benny.

"And when you have parties here the men are always looking at you," added Brent.

"Why is that anyway?" Bobby asked mischievously.

Barry and Brenda looked at each other and smiled. "Your Dad will explain that to you some time," Brenda said with a coy look at her husband.

"Cool."

"So we can go out by ourselves?" asked Benny.

Brett sighed now the heat was off him.

"Absolutely not. Bobby's only turned ten and you're only eleven," observed Barry Brewster.

"I'll be twelve in ten more days," objected Benny.

"Doesn't matter. There are dangerous men out on the streets at normal times. Who knows what sort of perverts will be out Halloween night."

"Horny ones?" Bobby mouthed behind his hand with a hopeful expression on his face, causing his three brothers to snicker again.

"Bobby," his dad warned, not sure what the boy was doing to make his brothers laugh but knowing he was up to some mischief.

"Sorry dad."

"Well, anyway, that's the situation," concluded their father. "I'm sorry."

Crestfallen, the brothers returned to the bedroom they all shared.

"Fucking sonuvabitch," swore Bobby as he plopped down on the bottom bunk. Even with the scowl on his face, the four-foot-four [1.32 m], sixty-four pound [29 kg] ten-year-old was a good-looking boy with his hazel eyes, high cheek bones, fine nose and mouth, and dark brown hair gelled to form a wave above his forehead.

"Yeah. This fuckin' sucks," agreed Brent also with a scowl. He tossed his long blond hair back as he slumped down in the chair in front of his desk. With his fine features, deep blue eyes with long blond lashes, and long hair, he was often mistaken for a flat chested young girl.

"Fucking senior citizens. They've had hundreds of Halloween parties. Why did Mom have to volunteer to help out with this one?"

"Hundreds?" asked Brett.

"Well lots," admitted Bobby.

"It's not her fault. She thought Dad would be home way back when she agreed."

"And it's not his fault. He had no idea he'd get called to a meeting for Monday way up in Canada."

"So what we gonna do?"

"We'll all stay home," announced Benny.

"That's no good," observed Brett. "Brent or I will stay."

"How we gonna decide?" his brother asked glumly.

"How 'bout a jerk race. Whoever cums first gets to go?"

"I don't feel like jerking," said Brent.

"You don't?" asked his three brothers in surprise.

"I'm too depressed."

Brent's three brothers knew exactly how he felt. Now that was really depressed! After moping about for an hour, they ended using the old standby for making decisions, paper-scissors-rock. Brent was the loser. Even though it was a Friday night the boys went to bed early, and their hands stayed above the blankets.

Late Sunday afternoon Barry Brewster said goodbye to his four sons and headed for the airport. The boys put on their costumes, even Brent who had decided to wear his to greet the kids who came to the door. Bobby at the moment was reading Treasure Island, and being fascinated by it, he had been walking around as if he had a peg leg all week and saying things like "avast there, maties" and "hand me over yer family jewels or I'll run a sword through yer fuckin' liver", the latter of course when there were no adults around and accompanied by a crotch grab. It had come as no surprise when he announced he'd chosen to go as a pirate, and the boy, having just turned ten on the second of the month, figured he cut a ferocious figure with his pirate hat, painted black beard, fake scar, eyepatch and sword.

Benny had chosen to be a skeleton, using one of the twin's older Halloween costumes from a school play. Brett had commented that he wasn't surprised Benny wanted to be a skeleton considering the fact that he was constantly playing with his bone, and his brothers had all high-fived and laughed, even Benny, who could not deny the observation. The about-to-be-twelve-year-old was a good-looking boy, a slightly older version of his younger brother except he'd chosen to spike his hair instead of wear it in a Caesar cut as had his younger brother.

The twins had chosen to dress up as vampires, not just because the two thirteen-year-olds found the idea of vampires intriguing, but more so because they had recently snuck into the theatre with their two younger brothers to see Brad Pitt in the movie Interview With a Vampire. Having a multi-theatre complex at the mall, it was a simple matter to buy a ticket for some family-oriented movie and then slip into the theatre showing the movie they really wanted to see, which was any movie that was restricted. The highly homoerotic imagery and theme of Ann Rice's story had not been lost on the two horny teenage boys who had many wet dreams about handsome young vampires over the following weeks. With their curly, blond hair extending down to mid-chest, their deep blue eyes and smooth pink cheeks, and the tight black pants, frilly dress shirts their mom had made and long capes they had put on, many a boy and many a man would readily have succumbed to the wishes of the two teenage vampires that night.

The boys had barely gotten changed when the doorbell rang.

"Six o'clock?" observed Bobby. "Some little buggers are sure eager for candy."

Brent opened the door. Outside stood four trick-or-treaters. The youngest, who looked to be about Bobby's age, was dressed as a vampire also. He was exceptionally good looking, with pale skin, wavy, jet-black hair covering his ears and in a bang across his forehead, big, dark, sensual eyes with long, fine eyelashes, and full, red lips. He smiled, revealing two long wicked-looking fangs. Beside him was a bald, ugly, pasty grey-green creature in tattered clothes with huge pig-like ears and snout, round green eyes sunk into his skull, and a wide, gaping mouth lined with sharp teeth. Even though he was all hunched over, he was way too tall to be a kid. Behind him was a boy who looked to be around sixteen dressed as a teenage werewolf.

He was wearing typical teenage clothes, baggy Gap cargo-pants, Adidas runners, and an oversized plaid Guess T-shirt under a high school jacket. His werewolf mask was awesomely realistic. The shaggy brown hair was highlighted with lighter and darker streaks giving him a rather handsome look despite the black nose, pointed wolf's ears and the jagged canine teeth. Beside him was a tall kid of an average build in a suit, cape, bow tie and top hat and made up to look like an adult with a dark brown goatee and moustache.

"Cool costumes," Brent observed as his three brothers joined him.

The four trick or treaters just stood there scowling, and, Brent figured, trying to look fierce. Suddenly they stepped forward as a group, pushing their way inside.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" asked Brent as he and his brothers stumbled back into the hallway.

"We've come to seek revenge," said the one in the suit and the cape. He had an adult's voice, and it was tinged with anger.

"Revenge? What the fuck you mean?" asked Bobby as the four brothers immediately thought back to their victims over the past ten months. Santa, janitor Bjornson, bus driver Blackburn, a few teachers, their principal, a colleague of their father, the tooth fairy, Cupid, Reverend Bentley's son Cole, some classmates.… They had probably left someone out. There were too many to remember let alone pinpoint just who these four might be.

"You shouldn't have done what you did," said the greyish-green creature ominously.

"You went too far," agreed the werewolf with a low growl, his eyes scanning over the four boys hungrily.

"When?" desperately asked Brett, the only one of the four thinking clear enough at the moment.

"At the beginning of the month."

The boys' minds quickly turned to the beginning of the month. There had been some games of crotchya in the showers after gym class, but that only involved the twins' classmates, and there had been some grabass with chubby seven-year-old Carson but that had only involved Bobby and Benny. Carson's fat older brother had been more obnoxious than usual since school had resumed, and had been bullying the other grade five kids into giving him their lunch, until Bobby started the rumour that the boys had been spitting in their sandwiches and peeing in their juice boxes before arriving at school. That had been the beginning of the month… and everyone assumed it was just a rumour. Then there was the new black boy from Sudan down the street in Benny's class. The four brothers had tried to get him to drop his pants, none of them having seen a black boy's stuff before. And of course there had been…

"The Boogeyman," announced the individual in the grey-green goblin costume, growing tired of waiting.

"Oh yeah," said the four brothers.

"Well the bugger got what he deserved," said Bobby, still remembering how the creature had scared the shit out of him, and had almost succeeded in carting him away.

"Yeah," agreed Brent. "He did. What business is that of yours anyway?"

"He was my partner," said the grey-green creature, "and a friend."

His voice was calm and spoken slowly, like when their dad spoke when he was trying to control his temper. The four brothers glanced at each other, the first hint that they could be in serious shit crossing their minds.

"Ah, you mean, you're really a boogeyman?" asked Benny, raising his right eyebrow skeptically, just like his dad.

The creature nodded and grinned evilly, his wide mouth dripping with slobber. "And I know many men who will be delighted to buy you," he said with a leer.

"Ha. Well there you're going to have a problem," bluffed the eleven-soon-to-be-twelve-year-old. "The Boogeyman has sworn to protect me."

"I think that was to protect Charles."

"Oh. Oh yeah."

"And you're saying you're really a vampire?" asked Brent, looking at what appeared to be the youngest of the four.

"You bet your sweet, attractive neck," the young vampire said looking up at Brent with a shine in his eyes. "And you know those dreams you've been having of becoming a vampire? I can make that possible." The young boy grinned wickedly and Brent blanched.

Just a kid in a costume wouldn't know about those dreams.

"And I think you'd make a delightful young werepup," said the werewolf to Bobby as he stepped forward. "And after you've become one of us, I'd love to do it doggy-style to you. Or I guess that's wolf style," he said with a leer. For a fleeting second, the idea appealed to the ten-year-old boy, but the teen werewolf's snort as he inhaled quickly brought Bobby back to reality.

"And as for you," said the fourth as he took out his spell book from his suit jacket and looked over at Brett, "I can think of a dozen spells to curse you with to pay you back for the things you did. I think the first one will be to make you a eunuch."

"So, you're… you're a.…"

"Warlock."

"And we've come to teach you four what happens to young boys when they mess with denizens of the underworld."

The boys looked at each other, at the four creatures standing in the foyer, and with four screams, they scattered, yes, in four directions. After a moment's confusion bumping into each other in the narrow hallway and cursing, the four evil creatures took off after them. The boys had the advantage of being young and agile, but the creatures had a mission and stayed hot on their tails.

Brent headed into the kitchen for no other reason than it was closest. The young vampire was right behind him. The boy, who had been ten when he'd become a vampire and was destined to be ten for eternity, backed Brent up to the kitchen cupboards and leered up at him.

"Com'on, just a little bite, and you can become one of us. You'll like it. Having someone suck the blood out of your neck is even better than having an orgasm. And the flow of hot, thick blood in your mouth and down your throat it's even better than drinking cum.

When you become one of us you can have an eternity of stalking young men, sucking their blood, and their cocks if that's really your wish. A lot of us are gay you know."

The boy ran his hand along his thigh, and a tiny bulge that had not been there before tented out his pants. He was very good looking, having wide, innocent eyes and a seductive smile and that unique sexuality of a boy on the edge of puberty where one had to look carefully to decide if he was a he or a she. His enticing looks and his smooth, seductive voice almost had Brent convinced, and the thirteen-year-old even felt a stirring in his tight black pants. He shook his head to clear it of such thoughts. "Look out," he warned as he grabbed the first thing in his reach, "or I'll throw this at you."

"A glass of water? Who do you think I am, the Wicked Queen of the West?" The boy giggled hysterically at his joke.

Ooops. He was hoping for a knife. He glanced around desperately for something else to defend himself with but the counter was bare. Of all the times for his mom to have put everything neatly away. He yanked open a drawer, spilling the contents on the floor in an attempt to slow down the boy. Scooting around to the other side of the kitchen, he yanked open the fridge and tossed yesterday's meatloaf at his pursuer.

Meanwhile the warlock had chased Brett into the den and the two had been racing around his father's desk. At the moment they were paused one at either end, sweating and gasping for breath.

"I … think," gasped the warlock, "I'll start… by changing you… into a urinal… and setting you outside by the fence tonight."

"Oh yeah," challenged Brett as he caught his breath. "You don't look like you could change me into anything."

"Maybe with that big mouth I should change you into a frog and you can spend the rest of your life catching flies with it," the warlock warned as he flipped through the spell book.

"What's with the spell book anyway?"

"I had an altercation with another warlock. He erased my memory and I now have to relearn all my spells."

"Oh yeah? What was the altercation about?"

"It was oh no you don't. You're not distracting me," the man said, aware of the boys' trick of getting their parents off topic so they wouldn't be punished. As Brett made a dash for the door, the warlock blocked him and with a scream of terror from the young boy's throat, the chase was on again.

Benny had sought refuge in his parent's bedroom. After pulling out the dresser drawers and tossing everything he could grab out of the closet to toss in the path of the pursuing boogeyman to slow him up, Benny found himself pinned in the corner.

"Ah, just what was your relationship with the other boogeyman anyway?" he asked, hoping to buy some time.

"George and I were good friends. We often worked together, if there were two young boys in a house."

"George?"

"Huh," snuffed the man. "You torture him and exact all kinds of promises out of him and you didn't even know his name."

"George?" asked Benny again. Who ever heard of a boogeyman by the name of George? "Well then, what is your name?"

"Where I come from, they call me Spook, but my name doesn't matter," the creature replied. "You are going to bring me a good price. I might even leave you in that costume when I offer to sell you. There are a lot of men who would like to add a bone to it, or uncover the one of yours that's not showing." He cackled with amusement.

"You're a bit late with the bone jokes, doofus," said Benny. "My brothers have already covered all of them."

"Doofus? I'll show you doofus! When I catch you I'm going to fuck your little ass till you've screamed yourself hoarse. Then I'll sell you."

As he lunged for Benny the boy ducked and slipped between his legs, managing to give the creature a swift punch where it hurts the most on his way under. Spook cried out in pain and anger as he spun around.

Bobby, meanwhile, had sought refuge in his bedroom and at the moment was perched on the top bunk and swatting at the werewolf's hands with his runner as the creature tried to grab him.

"It is useless you know," said the creature. "I'll catch you sooner or later. Why not just give in. You'll like being a werewolf."

"No fuckin' way," replied Bobby. "All that yucky hair on my body? And romping around on all fours and howling at the moon. That ain't for me."

"Well, you aren't going to have much choice in the matter," said the werewolf, making a sudden lunge and grabbing the boy by the foot. Bobby's scream joined the cry of pain in his parent's bedroom and the scream of terror in the kitchen as the beast's strong paws dragged him off the bunk.

Back in the kitchen, having momentarily distracted the pale ten-year-old blood sucker who was wiping the meatloaf and tomato paste off his clothes, Brent pushed past him, screaming at the top of his lungs. Diving under the table and scrambling to his feet, the teenager leaped back over it, but the vampire boy was quick on his feet too and right behind him. He grabbed a hold of Brent's shirttail as the two hits the floor running. Spinning around and trying to shake his purser loose, Brent spotted the spice rack. Now there was something that vampires could not stand. What was it? He grabbed the first container. Cinnamon? Cloves? Nutmeg? That was it! He opened the container and tossed the contents in the air. Nothing happened. Damn, that wasn't it! Grabbing the bottle of Allspice he opened it up and tossed the contents in the air. If it was really all spices, it should contain whatever it was that he needed.

"No need for seasoning," the boy chuckled. "Your neck will be just as tender and tasty without it."

Damn, that didn't work either! Brent panicked. Spice bottles went flying every direction as he desperately searched. Garlic! That was it, garlic! He opened the bottle and held it in front of him. The boy immediately froze, and then backed off. Ha! Garlic! He held the open bottle of garlic powder under the boy's nose and the boy staggered back dizzily. Brent giggled ecstatically. The boy took a step and Brent took a step forward, the two engaged in a strange slow motion tango. Garlic! Spinning the boy around, Brent grabbed the electric cord for the frying pan off the floor and wrapped it about his wrists. Quickly removing the boy's belt, he wrapped it about the boy's ankles.

Meanwhile his twin brother had managed to keep out of the grasp of the warlock, and had kept the man on the run so he didn't have time to use his spell book, but both were now gasping for breath and tottering with exhaustion. As the man made a leap for him, Brett spun around and crashed into the bookcase, and in his attempt to get away, pulled it down on top of both of them. As the two scrambled out from under it, he noticed the warlock had lost his spell book. The two dived into the pile of spilled books and began to toss them every which way in their desperate search for the book of spells. With a whoop of joy, Brett leaped to his feet, the book in his hand.

As the warlock made a leap for him, he read what was on the top of the page. The warlock suddenly froze in motion. Brett stared at him for a moment, and then slowly and cautiously reached out. The man just stood there, balanced on one foot, his two arms outspread, his mouth wide open.

"Coochy coo," Brett said, scratching the man under the chin. The frozen figure did nothing, but you could tell from his eyes he was very much aware of what was going on, and was not pleased. Brett looked down at the man's crotch and a smile curled the thirteen-year-old's lips.

Benny was not smiling as he tried to escape from the clutches of the boogeyman. The room looked like a hurricane had hit it as the boy tossed whatever he could lay his hands on at his pursuer as they raced in circles around his parent's bedroom. As Spook made a grab for him, he leaped aside and Spook stumbled forward, his feet tangled in Brenda's 42 D cup bra. Benny yanked open the drawer of the night table in the hopes of finding something he could use to defend himself.

"Okay, you fucking creep," freeze right there.

The boogeyman paused as he felt something hard and narrow press against the middle of his back.

"Don't move or I'll shoot."

"Shoot?" the evil man asked, not bothering hiding the concern in his voice. He was already dead, but he could still feel pain. In fact being a denizen of the underworld was even worse it took a lot more pain to stop you than it did when you had been a mortal being. A pistol could cause a lot of pain.

"Yeah. My dad keeps this beside the bed in case of emergencies."

"Intruders?"

"What do you think, doofus? Now put your hands in the air, real slow."

Spook did as he was told. He had no doubt this eleven-year-old would pull the trigger. A gunshot wound to the spine would be particularly painful, and there was no chance he could avoid it if he decided to fight instead of complying. His three buddies would surely be there any second and would rescue him anyway. While the creature was rationalizing his surrender, Benny was glancing around for something to tie him up with. His mom's pantyhose laying on the floor where he'd tossed it seemed to fit the bill. Continuing to hold his weapon against the boogeyman's back, he had the man slowly put his hands behind his back and then tied them together and then to his ankles with the elastic hose. As the evil creature slowly turned, Benny lowered the dildo he had pressed against the man's back.

"Squirt squirt," he said with a mischievous grin over the screaming coming from the boys' bedroom.

Bobby had been screaming ever since the werewolf had grabbed his leg and dragged him to the floor. He twisted and turned but could not escape his firm grasp. Now where was a good handful of wolfsbane when you needed it! Grabbing the only thing he could, he twisted around and rammed it in the werewolf's mouth. The creature began to gag and released his hold as he reached up to remove the object. Having momentarily immobilised the creature, one of Brent's dirty socks proved to be just as good as wolfsbane. Bobby seized the opportunity to bean the creature with the chunk of basalt from Brett's rock collection for his school science project, stunning him long enough to tie him up.

"Fuckin' shit," gasped Brent as he staggered into the living room, nursing his sore arm where the bookcase had struck him.

"Oh yeah," agreed his twin brother arriving at the same time and collapsing on the sofa. He smelled a strange combination of nutmeg, garlic and meatloaf. Since neither was being chased, each guessed that the other had taken care of the monster that had pursued him.

Bobby staggered into the living room, and looking around in a daze, headed over to Brent. "Oh man, I love your feet," he said, dropping to his knees and hugging Brent's legs. Brent glanced down at him, and then at his twin. His kid brother was getting weirder by the day.

"I fuckin' can't believe this," said Benny as he joined his brothers. "I fuckin' can't believe this."

He was still carrying their parents' dildo. Brent looked at him, and then glanced at his two brothers. Benny was definitely weird too. Attacked by four fierce monsters and the kid's messing around with their parent's dildo. Maybe it came from too much jerking off. The doorbell rang and the four boys leaped. They looked at each other, and then at Brent.

"You're supposed to be answering the door."

"No fuckin' way."

"It's probably just some kids."

"And if it ain't?"

"We'll all go."

Huddling together, they inhaled deeply as Brent slowly and cautiously reached out and turned the door knob. To their relief it was a little four-year-old kid with his mother lurking at the bottom of the stairs.

"So, what are we going to do, about you know what?" Benny asked as they closed the door.

"I dunno. We gotta do something with them before Mom gets home tonight."

"Yeah, you should see the mess the kitchen is in."

"And I think she might be a bit curious to find a boogeyman tied up in her bedroom with her pantihose," Benny said, and the brothers all glanced at him. He was still clutching the dildo, right below the knob. The boy was definitely weird.

The door bell rang again and once more they approached the door cautiously as a tight little group as though they had been glued together.

"So, what are we going to do? We gotta do something with them," said Brett after handing out the candy.

"Yeah, and besides, times wasting if we're gonna go get our share of the goodies out there," observed Bobby.

"Maybe we can have the goodies come to us," said Brent, the thinker of the four boys.

"What you got in mind?" his three brothers asked, gathering closer.

Half an hour later, as two five-year-olds accompanied by the older eleven-year-old brother of one of them arrived at the door, the brothers made their first offer.

"How'd you three like something way better than a pack of chicklets and a couple suckers?" offered Brent.

"Like what?" asked the older brother.

"Your two little brothers get to torture a real live Boogeyman," began Brent, and then leaning close, whispered something in the boy's ear.

"You're kidding."

"No way."

"What's in it for you?" asked the eleven-year-old, knowing nothing was for free.

"For five minutes, a scoop of candy from each of your bags," said Brent, holding up the flour scoop from the kitchen.

"Show us first."

"Take the customers downstairs," said Brent to Benny and Bobby as more potential clients came up the sidewalk.

Benny and Bobby escorted the three down the basement. Stopping first at their father's workshop, Benny opened the door. There before them, his arms spread out and tied to the rafters with pantihose and his legs spread out and tied to the workbench, was the Boogeyman.

"Neat costume," one of the five-year-olds observed.

"That's no costume. He's real."

"Aw, no way!"

"Go ahead, remove his mask."

The boy who'd spoken grabbed Spook's face and tried to remove his mask.

After a moment the five-year-old's eyes widened and he took a fearful step back. "Oh wow," he observed as he stared at the greyish-green creature.

"You can do anything you want to him," said Benny. "We got wood sticks if you want to spank his bum, plyers if you want to squeeze his toes, or his nipples, wire brush you can comb his bald dome with and really make him scream, whatever.…"

The two little boys looked at each other gleefully and then glanced around the workroom for their instrument of torture. "Let's screw him," said one of the boys.

Benny and Bobby looked at each other in surprise. "Screw him?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah," the five-year-old said confidently.

"How we do that?" asked his little friend.

"Dunno," the other boy replied with a shrug as he picked up a screwdriver from the perforated wall. "Just when my brother is mad at someone he says 'screw you' all the time."

They all looked at the eleven-year-old brother and the poor boy turned a bright red.

"Well," said Bobby with a grin, coming to the flustered boy's rescue, "come around behind Spook here and I'll show you where you can stick those screwdrivers. And then when you get tired of doing that," he added with a grin as he glanced at the older boy, "for another scoop of candy, I can show you an even funner way you can screw him."

Leaving Bobby there to get them started, Benny took the older brother to the bathroom. There, tied to the toilet, was the young vampire. His fangs had been capped with gummy bears and the jar of garlic powder was sitting on the toilet tank incase he needed convincing. As the boy drew down his fly, the captive glared angrily at Benny, and as the boy eagerly stepped in front of him, he reluctantly began to deliver his first suck job of the evening. The four brothers were going to pay dearly for this when he got loose. He'd make sure they became the sex slaves of the ugliest, most sadistic creatures that existed in hell.

On his way up the stairs, Benny met Brent escorting three more customers down, two young preschool boys and their teenage guardian for the night. Leaving the little boys with Bobby and the other two preschoolers, who were happily ramming their screwdrivers in and out of the Boogeyman's asshole, Brent showed the teenager to the family room. There, bent over the pool table was the werewolf, his arms and legs tied to the table and his pants already down. The boy grinned as he pulled out his limp cock and began to tug on it. He had always wondered what it would be like to fuck another boy, but he hadn't dared act on his fantasy until now. So what if the kid had a werewolf mask and was covered in shaggy fur? He was good looking in a way, and besides, it was the boy's ass that he was interested in, and this boy had a nice, compact ass all ready for a good fucking. This was his chance for the bi-curious teen to find out what having a piece of ass would really be like!

As Bobby, now carrying the two extra scoops of candy in his pirate hat, and Brent headed for the stairs, Brett was escorting another little boy and his older brother down them. Leaving the littlest one with the others to enjoy five minutes of pleasure with the now screaming Boogeyman, Brett took the older boy to the guest bedroom. There, laying on the bed was the most beautiful, biggest-boobed wrench the teenage boy had ever seen. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he eyed her and his dick rapidly began to swell as he thought of the possibilities. When the eleven-year-old kid upstairs had offered him either a blow job from a young boy, or a piece of ass from a teenage boy his age, or five minutes with a girl to do whatever he wanted with in exchange for a scoop of candy from his kid brother's sack he'd thought the boy was pulling leg. This broad was even better-looking then that big-boobed cock-tease Cheryl who lived on this street.

"Come here, lover boy," the gorgeous brunette said with a voice dripping with lust as she gyrated her hips.

As the teenager approached the bed, Brett smiled. He had really outdone himself with the spell book. What the boy thought was a young vixen was really the warlock, and not only had a spell of deception and a spell of confinement been placed on him to make him look like a sexy young girl and to keep him in the bed, but Brett had also put a spell on him that made him horny as a toad.

Soon the house was filled with cries of ecstasy and cries of pain as their four would-be avengers were repeatedly assaulted and as more and more youngsters coming for a handful of candy instead ended up offering a scoop of their own treasure for five minutes of unexpected fun. As the night progressed and the number of little preschool boys dwindled, Spook found himself visited by a growing number of older preteens and teenagers who were eager to enact their unfulfilled S and M fantasies. His three cohorts were not lacking in attention either.

The four brothers escorted a steady stream of boys up and down the stairs, many of whom later decided to turn over their entire bag of goodies for unlimited time in the basement. Whenever there was a lull in male trick or treaters, one or more of the Brewster brothers headed down the stairs to check on their four special guests.

In the guest bedroom a naked, buxom young girl was squirming and withering with unsatiable desire. Spread out on her back with her legs in the air, she was being vigorously humped by a fourteen-year-old boy who was under the belief that he was losing his virginity to the girl of his dreams. He was losing his virginity, but instead of thrusting his young, stiff cock in and out of an eager young girl's hot, moist cunt, he was working it in and out of the warlock's just as hot and just as moist asshole. At the same time his fourteen-year-old buddy was getting the blow job of his life from what he thought was a gorgeous babe, not from a middle-aged man with a goatee and moustache. A third young boy was gasping and squirming with ecstasy as he sucked and caressed the biggest boobs he'd ever seen while getting a hand job from the horny teenage girl, not realizing he was sucking a forty-year-old man's chest while being wanked by the guy. Meanwhile, two boys, their stiff cocks jutting out of their flies, stood leaning against the wall wanking themselves while they watched and waited their turn. Of course having been in on delivering the spell, the four brothers were able to see the scene for what it was, and found it hilarious. For a few boys that they did not particularly like, the Polaroid pictures they discretely took for later blackmail was even more hilarious.

Meanwhile, in the downstairs bathroom, the young ten-year-old vampire was being fed his thirty-first blood engorged boy cock for the night. Most of the boys who had chosen to get blown had been old enough to fill his gullet with young boy cream also, and they had done so with enthusiasm. The young boy's jaws were stiff and aching, but he knew he could expect no mercy from his captors. While he dutifully serviced the boy standing before him, two more boys stood just outside the door waiting their turns. His hair stuck out in all directions from the dozens of boys who had run their fingers through it in the ecstasy of their orgasms, and his young body was hot and sweaty from the combination of the hot boys he was blowing, and the confines of the small half-bath. With each load of hot cum the young vampire's rage and urge for revenge doubled.

In the family room, a handsome sixteen-year-old werewolf was being slammed against the pool table by a horny fourteen-year-old who could not believe his luck. He'd wanted to fuck a boy ever since he'd entered junior high and realized he was gay, but he'd never been able to get up the courage to approach any of his classmates. Who would have thought going door to door trick or treating would have ended in him realizing his dream? He didn't care if the kid he was fucking was dressed up as a werewolf. Actually, it made it all the sexier. Little did the boy realize that as his hard, hot cock massaged the boy's prostate, the howls of pleasure being emitted were from a real werewolf.

In the workroom, a much older evil resident of hell was screaming out with pain. A twelve-year-old boy was reaming out his ass with the wooden handle of a toilet plunger, while a second was applying hot glue from a glue gun to his red, swollen nipples and a third was milking his aching cock. He'd already shot off half a dozen loads, and his nuts were shrivelled to the size of little green grapes and aching like hell as the boy's fist rapidly pumped his irritated cock, kept stiff by an O ring about its base. All three of his torturers had little stiffies jutting out their trousers and they grinned with pleasure and fiddled with themselves through their pants with each new cry of pain that they were able to draw out of the creature.

After several hours, the four brothers were about to close things down when their mother phoned. The supper for the seniors was over and she and an old school chum were going to go out for a few drinks. Since the police would be out watching for drunk drivers especially this evening, she was going to stay the night at her friends and come home in the morning if that was alright with the boys. The boys immediately assured her there was no problem.

Meanwhile word about the Brewster household had spread, and more and more teen and preteen boys were showing up at the door with bags of candy. The Brewster brothers readily welcomed one and all. At one point Bobby observed that they probably had more perverts in their basement than were wandering the streets in the entire state that night. As the evening progressed, the four brothers found themselves getting hornier and hornier. The last of their customers finally left at one that morning. Locking the doors, the four boys went downstairs and gathered their captives in the family room.

"Well," began Brent, taking a bite out of the fifth candy apple that night. "I guess all that's left to do is to ensure none of you ever get a stupid idea like this again."

Their four captives glared at him but none of them spoke. Even though every one of them was braced for the worst and determined they would not be beaten by four young boys, each also remembered George upon his return at the beginning of the month, and each had a nagging suspicion that they might not emerge the winners in this battle either.

"We've had a long time to think about this, so it's really quite simple," Brent continued with a grin, having been chosen spokesman by the boys. "First we figure a nice piece of garlic bread will convince you to agree to whatever we say," he said, glancing at the young vampire now on his knees in the middle of the room with his hands tied behind his back and to his ankles. His dishevelled hair was greasy from the dozens of hands running through it and it hung down over his eyes. His clothes were rumpled and large wet stains marked the front of his white shirt where cum had dribbled out of the corners of his mouth and down off his chin. The green and red gummy bears capping his fangs were worn and saturated with cum but still firmly affixed.

"And a spell changing you into wolfsbane should take care of both of you," he continued, looking first at the naked warlock now tied flat on his back to one side of the pool table and then looking at the werewolf still tied to the opposite side. The werewolf snarled as he strained at his bonds, but the boys had had plenty of experience tying people up and the electrical cords they'd used to tie him to the pool table held fast. He stood there still bent over and tied to the table at a ninety-degree angle with his trousers and underwear about his ankles, his chest resting on the table's green felt, and his bumhole, red and raw from its continual assault, sticking out invitingly.

The warlock also strained against his bonds, but with a very different reason. His bumhole was also raw and aching from repeated fucking, and he'd swallowed as much cum as the young vampire, but despite having had sex repeatedly over the past six hours he still needed more. Brett had removed the containment spell, and the deception spell that had made him look like a young girl, but had not yet removed the third spell that the four brothers had on occasion that night wondered if they had secretly been put under several years ago.

"And you," Brent said with a leer, addressing the boogeyman now naked and suspended from a planter hook in the ceiling of the family room, "I think one more wank on your boner and you'll agree to anything we say." Spook stared at the boy in a bit of a daze after suffering the abuse of an untold number of youngsters for the fear and torment he and others of his kind had inflicted on them. His nipples burned as if they were on fire from countless pinches, piercings and glue burnings, and his asshole had so many different objects shoved up it that it would be months before he'd be able to sit down. Worse of all, after being kept erect by the O ring for six hours, his cock was so engorged and so sore it felt like someone had beaten it with a hammer.

"So," said Brent with a grin, taking a large bit out of the apple and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked at his brothers. "Let the party begin." Walking over to the young bound vampire in the middle of the room, he held up the container of garlic powder. "Now, you've had a lot of practice tonight, so I expect a specially good blow job," he said with a grin, "and if you don't do it right, you're going to be snorting some wicked powder."

The ten-year-old looked on helplessly as Brent slowly unzipped his trousers and then undid his belt and unclasped the clasp. As his trousers dropped to his ankles, the thirteen-year-old slowly and seductively pushed down his black, cotton knit Calvin Klein boxer briefs. His thick, uncut cock swung as he stepped forward and instructed the young vampire to begin by licking his balls. The young boy inhaled deeply as he leaned forward and the scent of the hot lusty teen filled his lungs. Normally he enjoyed the aroma almost as much as he enjoyed the musty smell of a bat cave, but at the moment he hated this teenager dressed up as one of his kind with such a vengeance he could think of nothing else other than revenge. Reluctantly, he stuck out his tongue, long and red, and began to lick the boy's hairless balls, running his tongue over the low hung ball sac. The flavour of sweaty teen balls caused his saliva to flow abundantly. The young vampire had many years of practice, and was an expert. He licked the boy's slowly swelling cock, a delicious soft pink tube of teenage flesh. He brushed his gummy bear capped incisors against the swelling sausage, wishing he could sink his teeth into the delightful fleshy tube and drink the hot blood pulsating through it.

Despite the fact he was being forced to do this, the young boy felt himself becoming erect and he brushed up against Brent's leg and rubbed his groin against it. He might as well have some pleasure. The young blond teenager smiled and squatting down, unzipped the young vampire's pants and slipped his fingers in the boy's fly. Finding the hot, stiff little weenie, he guided it out of the boy's fly and stood once again. As the young boy eagerly licked Brent's now stiff cock, he rubbed his own against the teenager's leg. Brent ran his fingers through the thick, dark black hair of the young boy as his hot, moist mouth descended around Brent's cockhead and sucked with a gentle loving force that only a vampire can master. Brent's young cock had been slowly growing over the months, and at that particular moment it seemed larger than it ever had before.

Watching his vampire brother being sucked off by the young vampire boy had to be one of the sexiest scenes his twin brother had seen in a long time. He reached down and squeezed his swelling cock as he watched the young, dark-haired boy bob his head up and down the full length of his brother's dick and rub his little three-inch [7½ cm] boner against his brother's bared calf. As his brother closed his eyes and tossed back his long, blond hair, Brett knew just how he was feeling.

The warlock had been tied on his back to the pool table with his arms stretched out to the sides, his butt resting on the wooden edge and his legs bent and tied spread-eagled to the two table legs. Standing between his outspread thighs, Brett dropped his trousers and boxer-briefs, grey, ribbed Marky Marks, and leaned over to caress the man's chest. The forty-year-old warlock had kept himself in reasonable shape so that his chest, though fleshy, was firm. Brett ran his fingers through the man's chest hair, and then unbuttoning the frilly white shirt his mother had sewn for him, Brett leaned against the warlock and rubbed his smooth teen chest against the man's upper torso. As his smooth, hot skin slid over the man's nipples they quickly became firm, and the warlock, still under the horny spell, twisted and ground his body against the thirteen-year-old with desire.

Brett ran his hands down along the man's hips and caressed them, allowing his long, blond hair to caress the man's chest and irritated nipples and causing the man to groan with desire. He continued slipping his hands down along the man's smooth hips to his sweaty crack, and then the boy ran a finger along the crack to finger the man's hairy, ravaged hole. Sensitive from the repeated fucking it had received and from the spell the man was under, he opened and closed his hole anxiously in anticipation. A droplet of semen oozed out from his cum-filled rectum.

Brett teasingly ran his finger over the man's pucker and spread the spent cum over it until the man begged the thirteen-year-old to fuck him. Ever so slowly Brett inserted his finger, easily sliding it up the eager and cum-slick channel. He worked his finger in and out of the man, causing him to gyrate his hips and groan with pleasure. By this time Brett had become firm and he rubbed his teenage cock along the man's inner thigh, causing the man's own stiff cock to jerk. He teasingly ran the tip of his uncut cock along the man's aching pucker and brushed his fingertips along the rim of the man's circumcised knob until the man begged to feel the boy's cock inside him.

He finally positioned his dick at the man's eager hole, and as he leaned forward, the sex-crazed warlock's rectum literally sucked in his young teenage bone. As Brett slowly worked his hot, stiff teen cock in and out of the forty-year-old, he closed his eyes with the pleasure of a hot, moist hole eagerly pulsating about his swollen, irritated meat. He glanced over at Brent, his eyes still half-closed, and the two thirteen-year-old twins smiled at each other knowingly and their twin cocks throbbed pleasantly as their young nuts began to tighten.

Feeling extra horny from watching his two brothers, Bobby eagerly unzipped his fly as he stepped up behind the werewolf. Withdrawing his erect, three-inch [7½ cm] cocklet, the ten-year-old reached around and caressed the boy's furry balls and stroked his limp cock.

The boy soon responded. "Thought you were going to bite me, huh?" Bobby whispered in the boy's ear as he squeezed the teenager's stiff cock. "And then do it doggy style to me, huh?

Well, I'm gonna fuck you doggy style, and I'm gonna do it until you howl." Easily slipping his little boy cock up the teenage boy's cum-filled hole, Bobby slowly began to work his hips to and fro as he wanked the boy's cock.

Picking up the dildo he'd used as a fake gun, Benny approached Spook with an impish grin. Inserting the thick rubber penis up the man's already ravaged ass, he slowly began to work it in and out while he reached around and began to milk his aching dick with the other. Having been milked dry, the boogeyman twisted and gyrated in agony as the young boy's hand relentlessly pumped up and down his aching organ. After a few minutes, Benny opened the skeleton costume's Velcro fastening at his crotch, and pulling down his fly, freed his hot, aching bone. Then slipping the man's stiff cock between his legs and clamping a hold of it with his thighs, Benny began to ride up and down the irritated shaft as he nibbled on the man's irritated, aching nipples, causing the tortured creature to twist and gyrate all the more. Benny's own little bone jabbed Spook's flabby stomach as the eleven-year-old road back and forth on the boogeyman's thick, stiff cock.

Brent was twisting and gyrating also, but not in agony. As the thirteen-year-old felt his climax approaching, he bent down, and fastening his mouth on the neck of the young vampire sucking his cock, he clamped down, giving the boy a large, red hickey as he felt his cum race up the core of his cock. Brent groaned with ecstasy as he squirted out his first shot and the boy immediately swallowed it. Shot after shot erupted from his throbbing, irritated cock and the young ten-year-old eagerly swallowed every drop as at the same time he reached his own dry orgasm and feverishly rubbed his tiny stiff boycock against the teenager's calf.

Brent's twin brother was also gasping for breath as he reached his climax, and the young blond thrust his hips forward as his hot, tight balls pumped out their load of teen cum. Shot after shot blasted up into the warlock's rectum and Brent shuddered and moaned with the pleasure of his release. As his load filled the man's rectum, the warlock also climaxed, the constant probing of Brent's young cock against his prostate having brought him to his peak. His thick, stiff cock jerked about wildly, sending his cum in all directions. Thick creamy ropes of cum flew through the air, striking the man's naked chest, his stomach, and the frilly white shirt of the teenage vampire fucking his ass. As the force subsided it ran down over the knob of his cock and down the shaft like hot lava flowing from a volcano.

Brent's kid brother was trembling and gasping with his climax also, his young body jerking uncontrollably with his dry orgasm. Bobby grunted with the exquisite pleasure, his fingers entwined in the thick fur of the werewolf as his sixty-four-pound [29 kg] body hammered the hundred-and-forty pound [64 kg] body of the teenager. Still trembling with the waves of pleasure rippling out from his little cocklet, the young bearded pirate, still wearing his eyepatch and pirate's cap, reached around and continued wanking the teenager's hot cock. The horny teenager soon emitted a low deep-throated growl as his nuts contracted and he throbbed out his teenage cum. Rope after rope shot out of his burning peehole and flew under the pool table to leave long, sticky ropes on the carpet.

In the corner, young Benny, still in his skeleton costume, was performing an erotic dance with Spook, who was rapidly jerking his hips to and fro, working his stiff bone between Benny's tightly clasped thighs in a desperate attempt to satisfy the itch that was causing his cockhead to burn. Having been milked dry, he cried out in pain with his dry orgasm, and Benny grasped him tightly and madly rubbed his own little penis, protruding out of his skeleton costume like an obscene little bone, against the man's hairy crotch. As the young boy trembled with his own dry orgasm, he pinched the boogeyman's teats, causing him to howl out with even more pain as Benny howled out with the pleasure raking his young body.

The four brothers collapsed on the floor, exhausted and satiated, but not for long. They were young, and tonight, full of sugar. Half an hour later their young cocks were aching for more pleasure, and they eyed their four captives with evil delight as they slowly stood.

Two and a half hours and four orgasms apiece later, the brothers freed their captives after exacting promises they would never return nor send others in their place, and the four exhausted boys dragged their loot to their room.

"We gonna divvy up this stuff?" asked Bobby as he dropped the last sac on top of the others on the floor.

"Naw. Let's wait til morning. I'm too fuckin' tired," said Brent.

"Yeah, me too," agreed his twin brother.

"Yeah, screwin' can sure wear a guy out," said Benny with a grin.

"And getting sucked."

"That vampire kid sure could do it fuckin' good, couldn't he?" observed Bobby.

"You know we never found out their names, except for Spook."

"Can you imagine that Boogeyman who was after Charles being called George?"

"Yeah, who'd have thought."

The boys chuckled at the idea as they put on their pajamas, Bobby wearing white cotton pj's with Disney cartoon characters, Benny's pajamas having a bright red collar and cuffs and a collage of star wars characters, and the twins wearing only bottoms, Tommy Helfiger pj's with thin black vertical lines and black trim. The boys wearily crawled into their beds. Laying there in their bunks, they glanced over at the mound of candy barely visible in the moonlight. It was going to take hours of sorting and swapping. The wind had picked up and dry branches scraped up against the house. An owl hooted in the distance. Suddenly there was a loud, angry growl.

"What was that?" whispered Bobby as he quickly rose up on one elbow.

"Just my stomach," said Benny.

"Oh, good," said Bobby as he lie back. "Thought it might be another fuckin' monster coming for us."

"Sorry if I scared you."

"Scared me?" asked Bobby. "No way! I was just thinking I'm too fuckin' tired to lift a finger right now."

"I'm too tired to even get another stiffy," said Brent.

"Oh yeah," his three brothers agreed with satisfied sighs.

As the moon slipped behind the clouds and the dead branches brushed up against the house, the owl hooted again farther away and mysterious and eerie shadows glided across the sky. The four brothers reached down and their hands slipped inside their pajamas bottoms to fiddle with their limp organs. In a matter of seconds the four boys drifted off to sleep, their breaths sweet from all the candy they'd already eaten, their fingers clutching their limp little cocklets, and contented smiles on their angelic faces. It had been a perfect Brewster Halloween.

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