House Rules

By Philly Buster
PhillipPopple@proton.me

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This story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced nudity, spanking, and sexual activity of preteen and young teen children for the purpose of punishment. None of the behaviors in this story should be attempted in real life, as that would be harmful and/or illegal. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or view such material, please leave now.

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"Are you done?"

The sound of sneakers against leather continued apace, little legs swooshing up to kick the air, heels hammering back down against the armchair. The feet hung freely above the carpet, and the arrhythmic drumbeat continued much as it had for the past ten minutes. "Uh, yeah, I think so... I dunno, you tell me."

Without a moment of hesitation the man rose from his seat. The boy's blue eyes went wide, the man seeming to fly across the office so swift was his motion. As quickly as he rose, he crouched, hands clasping firmly onto the boy's jean clad legs. His grip was not strong enough to hurt, but it was just strong enough to keep the boy's legs pressed silently against the soft leather. "Excuse me, I misspoke. What I meant to say, was are you done kicking my furniture?"

"Uh..." the tween trailed off, the silence punctuated by a gulp. "Uh, yeah, sure. Whatever you say."

"Thank you," the man smiled, the boy offered uncertain stoicism in response. The man casually strolled back to his chair, picking up a notepad from the nearby endtable. "But let's continue with that train of thought. Is that all you did?"

"Um, yeah. At least, as far as I know." The boy shrugged his shoulders, keeping his hands planted atop the armrests. "There was the sandwich prank I played on Adrian..."

"Tricking him into eating meat," the man clarified.

"Yeah. So what? I eat meat. Dad eats meat. It hasn't killed us yet," the boy replied sullenly, pausing in anticipation of a lecture that did not come. The only sound the man made was that of pen against paper. "And, uh, the thing with Ms. Kettleman's dog..."

"She caught you in the yard with your pants down and her dog licking peanut butter off your penis."

A loud, theatrical huff punctuated the conversation. Two slender arms lifted themselves from the armrests and crossed tightly over a sucked in chest. "Whatever. If you already know this stuff why are you asking me?"

"I know your dad's side of 'this stuff', I'm asking you to get your side."

With his gaze averted to the corner, the boy muttered "If you wanted to get my side you wouldn't keep interrupting me."

"Alright Phillip-"

"Phil"

"Alright Phil, the floor is yours."

His gaze slowly turned from the corner back to the man. "Um... Well... I like having fun. I like jokes. Doesn't everybody? Meat is good for you. It's part of the food pyramid, right? If my brother freaks out because he ate a few itty bitty slivers of pork, doesn't that mean there's something wrong with him? It's like... Like how the guy in Princess Bride ate poison in little tiny bits at a time to become resistant, so he could eat more poison later and not die? It's like that. So it makes no sense that Adrian would throw a fit over it. He didn't die, right? He didn't even get sick!"

"Do you know what a vegetarian is?"

Bright blue eyes rolled, cherry tongue sticking out in disgust. "Yeah. It's stupid."

"Phil, have you ever considered the fact that your brother doesn't think it's stupid?"

"Phillip"

The man's gaze left the notepad and settled on the boy. "I thought you wanted to be called 'Phil'."

"I changed my mind," the boy did his best to contain the smirk that painted his face, but might as well have shouted it from the rooftops.

"Let's move on. What's your side on what you did to the neighbor's dog?"

"I didn't do anything to him." Phillip accentuated his innocence by blowing a raspberry between the pink of his lips. "I just dipped my dick in peanut butter. So what? It's a free country! It's not my fault Mrs. Kettleman didn't feed him enough so he decided to start licking it. If anything, she should probably be sitting right here, explaining why she's neglecting him."

"Phil, Phillip, whatever it is you're going by right at this minute, I specialize in seeing people under eighteen."

"I'll bet you do!" the kid sang before breaking out in a chorus of chortles. He was so lost in the moment, that he once again began his sneakered assault on the office chair with his little air kicks. Somehow, even more quickly than the first time, the man was at Phillip's feet, an iron grip securing his legs in place, drawing a startled squeak from the boy.

"If you can't restrain yourself, I can do it for you" the man spoke as calmly as he ever had, the boy squinting down with a mix of fear and confusion. Unlike the first time, the man made no show of withdrawing his hold on his patient's legs or on drawing back to his seat. "Now, shall we continue?"

"Uh... I don't think I wanna."

"If you want my hands off, then the shoes come off." The man's eyes glinted as they traveled up to meet Phillip's pensive stare.

"OK, sure... Just leggo please." Without saying a word, the man released one hand to tug at the haphazardly tied laces, stealing away one sneaker before switching his grip and repeating the process. Before he knew it, Phillip had somehow lost both shoes and the socks that went with them, the conditioned office air causing his ten tiny toes to curl up for protection. "Uh... I can do it myself. And I didn't agree to take my socks off." The man made no acknowledgement of the boy's complaint as he withdrew to his own chair, dropping his newfound trophies on the floor beside him. "Um... Like... OK. So, what else?"

"Did you want to give me your side of stripping your brother?" the man asked, pen pressed expectantly against notepad once more.

"It wasn't stripping, it was pantsing!"

"How do you see the difference?"

"Strippers take their pants off. Pantsers pull other people's pants down. Strippers do it for perverts, pantsers do it because it's funny."

"Was it funny to do it at his birthday party?"

"Duh! If you pants someone around other people, then it's a joke. Pantsing someone when you're alone is just gay."

"From what your dad told me, Adrian didn't find it very funny."

"Yeah, well..." the tween trailed off, huffing as he again turned his head and practiced his corner stare act. "It's not my fault he doesn't have a sense of humor. I'm just trying to toughen him up, he should learn to brush that kinda stuff off. It's a prank. Guys prank each other. No big deal."

"Would you find it funny if someone pantsed you?"

"Of course!" Phillip emphatically tapped his finger against his chest. "I can take a joke."

The man's eyes turned towards the clock, then back towards the preteen patient. "Well, Phillip, I think I'm ready to talk to your father now. Can you send him in on your way out, please?"

"Phil." The barefoot boy flashed a shit eating grin at the therapist, all but skipping towards the office door at the prospect of putting this room, this man, and the entire practice of pediatric psychiatry behind him. As the door swung open he sang out with a far too pleased "Oh, dad!", only to feel a pair of fully grown hands take hold of his jeans and the tighty whities beneath them. The soft face froze in horror as he felt them hovering in place, for one second, two, three, before-

His dad glanced up from the Sports Illustrated he had been idling through just in time to see the tug of the only protection his son's family jewels had in the world, exposing a flaccid cut of hairless boy meat that shivered in the draft of the doorway. A similar shiver overtook the boy when he felt the breath hit the back of his neck. "I made sure to do it in front of other people, so it's funny and not gay. Now step out of them and sit down while I talk to your dad."

"W-W-Wha..." Phillip's brain buffered. His kid cock twitched, the involuntary movement booting his senses back to life. "What the fuck!?" he shouted, yanking his t-shirt down for cover, inadvertently lifting the hem in back and giving an all access show to two round globes.

"That's enough," dad announced, rising from his seat.

The boy craned his neck, sneering back at the pantser psychiatrist "Oh, you are so gonna fucking get it no-OW!"

The crack of paternal palm against exposed asscheek all but echoed off the walls. "Who taught you to talk like that? Keep it up kiddo, and I will wash that dirty mouth of yours out with soap when we get home. And besides that..." A second slap caused the bottomless boy to yelp again. A split second later, he darted forward, out of reach of further corporal punishment. "I believe Dr. Casimir told you to step out of those pants, mister." With his usual deftness, Dr. Casimir swooped down and retrieved the now abandoned articles from the floor.

Buck naked below the waist without anything but a well tugged t-shirt to protect his dignity from the cold, cruel world, Phillip sputtered out a "Butbutbut-"

"The only butt I want to see is yours, planted in a chair, while me and the doctor finish up. We shouldn't be long, alright?"

The boy started forward in protest, only to stop after a single step. Eleven year old lips opened, but no sound came out. The door to the office had already closed, with the doctor, his dad, and his clothes on the other side of it. The boy's blonde head sunk between his cotton clad shoulders, arms clamped tightly around his chest. "Whatever." Bare foot tapping frantically on the floor, the pouting preteen whispered complaints and curses against every authority figure in his life for a full minute. Eventually, no matter how much of a shock to the system it was to be abandoned half naked in a waiting room, the kid's natural curiosity got the better of him.

Taking soft steps with ease thanks to his shoeless state, he crept beside the door. Planting an ear against the solid slab of wood, he heard the faint muffle of adult voices with only slivers of comprehension slipping through: "Real handful... Bad attitude... Lack of empathy... Taste of his own medicine... Lots of touching... Majority rules... Total exposure... No privacy... Can't say no... Nothing off limits..." So enraptured was Phillip with the smatterings of the conversation that was about to change his life forever, that he leapt a full foot in the air when the front door to the lobby slammed shut.

"Marcus White! How many times have I told you not to do that?"

"I'm sorry, mom. I won't do it next time, promise."

The sweat beaded Phillip bolted to a seat, planting his bare butt in a chair as requested. Draping a magazine as nonchalantly as he could over his crotch, he picked up the same same Sports Illustrated his dad had been idling through before. Pretending to peruse the pages, he did his best impression of the noises dad would often make when watching the game. "That was an easy catch... They oughta fire that coach... What was he thinking?"

"Are you reading that?"

Slowly looking up from the deodorant ad he had settled on, Phillip's gaze met the younger boy's. Marcus had chosen to plant his own butt in the seat adjacent to Phil's and was using a single finger to tap the magazine that was currently covering his cock. Closer examination revealed that it was not just any magazine, but a Batman comic book, one that clearly aroused the interest of the patient to be. Phillip, for his part, was becoming just plain aroused. The magazine developed its first hint of an upwards tilt. "Uh... Yeah. I'm reading it."

"No fair!" the gentle tapping turned into a sour grapes swat, causing the stiffening boy pole to bounce beneath the Arkham adventure. His preteen penis filled with blood even faster than before.

"Mark, be nice!"

"But mom, he's the one who won't share..."

The mom looked past her boy and at Phillip at the same time that he was forced to make an emergency adjustment to his crotch covering, pulling it in closer against his lap as his now hard head of kid cock threatened to poke right out of it. "I'm sorry, he can be a real handful."

"Oh, um..." The eleven year old's cheeks were flushed, as he managed his best grown up impression. "It's fine. I know how kids can be."

With his hard on going nowhere soon, the boy was forced to abandon the sports magazine and cling for dear life to the comic book lest a pair of impatient fingers snatch it away. After a few audible complaints about the remaining options that did not involve caped crusaders, the boy beside him was eventually sated by lesser reading material. Phillip spent the next several minutes with burning red cheeks, stilted breathing, and frantic leg trembling, while waiting for his half-naked nightmare to end.

"I know you're naked under there." The sudden warmth of whispering against his ear rocked Phil's senses. Marcus had brought his knees up onto the seat so he could lean over, lips a hair's breadth from the big kid's lobe. "Do you read with your wiener or somethin'?"

Panic painted Phillip's face, his mind coming up blank for a response, when suddenly-

"Thanks doc. I'll do my best. And I'll make sure Phil does his. Alright kiddo, let's-" The SHKRPT of shota skin separating from commercial leather stopped dad's sentence short, and barely did little Markus have time to notice the ass shaped sweatprint that Phillip had left on the seat before the bottomless boy was clinging for dear life to his dad. Flushed face buried itself in chest, arms wrapped tightly around stomach, and boy boner frantically dug into thighs. "Well, I'm happy to see you too."

Man hand reached down and gave a reassuring half pat, half grope to bare butt. When Phil's dad noticed the mom's shocked stare, he playfully pulled one cheek aside, flashing his son's virgin asshole. She quickly turned away in disgust, eliciting a chuckle from his father before he remembered his manners. "I hope he didn't give you folks any trouble."

Between pursed lips, the woman uttered a solitary, disdainful "No."

"He did too!" Marcus shouted out. Picking up the comic Phillip's dick had been bookmarking, he showed the pre-stained pages to the room as evidence. "He got Batman all wet!" Dad's gut shook with a hearty laugh, and even the therapist's professional manner was betrayed by a jovial smile. Phillip did not find it funny.

The preteen peep show moved on from Dr. Casimir's pediatric psychiatry practice, but not before giving an encore. When Phillip realized the pants he brought into the office would not be returning home with him, he defiantly dug heels into carpet. Even the encouragement of a fatherly tap on the tush didn't deter him. One squat, scoop, and grunt later his dad was standing upright, half naked boy hanging bridelike between his forearms. With a blush painted in crimson across his face, the dad's ward warbled out a soprano series of protests all the way to the car.

The drive home found dad sneaking as many peaks in the rear view mirror as the traffic would allow, taking in the silent, sulking figure of bottomless boyhood in back. Apart from the occasional shift of cheek against cushion, Phil kept perfectly still. Fingers locked in a death grip on his t-shirt, tugging tightly on the cotton. Feigning interest in the window, Phillip stared at the neighborhood passing them by.

"You're getting your shirt all wet," dad broke the stalemate of silence.

Sneaking a glance down, Phil's periphery took in his boy boner tenting his t-shirt. Not only was the tugging making the material less opaque than usual, his piss slit that had earlier dripped all over Batman was now plainly visible through the pre-stain it had painted. He let out a huff between clenched teeth, leaving a fog film against the window. "Whatever. I hate you."

"Well, that's a shame Mr. Grinch, because I love you."

"If you really loved me, you wouldn't have let that pedo psychologist pull my pants off."

"First thing: He's not a 'pedo psychologist', he's a pediatric psychiatrist. Second thing: Does that mean I don't love Adrian since I let you pull his pants off?"

"I pulled them down, not off."

"Splitting hairs, kiddo. Splitting hairs."

"Whatever." Phillip resumed his tight lipped stare out the window. After more than a minute of the only vocalization being his dad whistling far too cheerfully, the boy slowly turned his gaze towards the driver's seat. "Dad?"

"Yes?"

"If it's just 'splitting hairs', why didn't you let me get my jeans back from Dr. Cassie Mirror?"

"Hey, that was his idea, not mine."

"Called it. Pedo."

"If you want to keep going with that smart mouth, I can give you a smarting behind to go with it. I wonder which one would be more embarrassing to show off, your leaking penis or your glowing red bottom? What do you think, sport?" The talk about hypothetical handprints on hindquarters deepened the boy's blush. His tween cock twitched, and only a deep breath sucked in between clenched teeth kept him from further mouthing off. "Oh, and don't even think about putting on anything below the the belly button when we get home, mister. If I catch you doing that you're going be in for a world of hurt."

"Whatever."

*****

Dad raised his palm to the side of his face, heralding the household with a musical "Dinner time!" Despite the exhaustion that naturally follows from a long day of kid psychiatry, bottomless boy wrangling, and picking up Adrian from soccer practice afterwards to top it all off, he had nevertheless cooked up as fine a meal as had ever been served in the Popple house: Cheeseburgers for the omnivores and a grilled cheese sandwich for the resident nine year old vegetarian. An already seated Adrian was doing his best to ignore the piping hot plate in front of him, choosing instead to fix his gaze on a big book of whale facts that lay open on his lap. Half a minute passed, no bites having been taken, and one seat still remained empty. "Phil! Dinner time! If I get a cold dinner waiting on you I'll spank your ass until it's hot instead!"

A blonde mop and matching set of blue eyes peered around the dining room doorway. "It's alright. I'm not hungry."

"That's some bull. You skipped out on lunch earlier, there's no way you're not starving right now."

"You can go ahead and eat without me. Really, I'm fine," Phil asserted, only for his stomach to betray him with a loud growl.

"Oh. You're fine, huh?"

A soft gulp sounded. "I..." the tween trailed off into silence as he locked his gaze on the burger.

Dad leaned over and pinched the edge of Phil's plate, softly spinning it to produce the sound of ceramic scraping wood. "It's your favorite, Phil. Just sitting here. Waiting for you. Are you giving up meat? Maybe you've gone vegetarian like Adrian here?"

Adrian who had been very diligently ignoring the conversation finally looked up at the mention of his name "Even if you don't wanna eat, can you please just sit down already? I'm starving."

"I can't."

"Maybe I should schedule an emergency appointment with Dr. Casimir tomorrow. I can tell him that now you've got an eating disorder. How would you like that, kiddo?"

The peering prepubescent stared down at the floor in defeat. He resigned himself to his bare derriere dining in a voice so low that nobody but him could make out the "Fine." Eyeing Adrian who had since gone back to learning all there was to learn about whales, the eleven year old made a frantic dash for his seat.

"Ahem." Dad verbalized, placing both hands together and closing his eyes. "Dear Lord, we thank you for this meal," he began. Adrian, even if he had not looked up from his book, caught a glimpse of his brother's boy toy bouncing in his periphery. Despite his usual devotion in such moments, he couldn't help but take the opportunity to lean over and look under the table. "We thank you that we were able to take Phil to the doctor today, and that the doc already is helping with his behavior." There, in all of its glabrous, glistening glory, was his big brother's soft cock nestled between his thighs. "We thank you that Phil is as cute as he is, because that will make this process a lot easier for everyone." Phil went beet red at the direction that the pre-dinner prayer was taking. He opened his eyes to glare at his dad, only to notice his little brother was nowhere in sight. "To put it another way, Lord, we thank you that you made Phil a hot little piece of jailbait. If he's going to be naked he might as well look good doing it, isn't that right Lord? Amen." In a flash, Adrian popped upright, hands locked in prayer and eyes tightly shut, just in time for dad to open his.

"You little shit!" Phil hissed, only for Adrian to ignore it with a saintly air.

"Keep it up if you want some soap in that mouth, Phil."

"Dad?"

"Yes, Adrian?"

"What was that you said about Phil being naked?"

"Oh! As if you don't fuh..." Dad's eyes burned into the bottomless eleven year old beside him. "As if you don't freaking know!"

"Good save, sport. In any case, the doctor Phil went to see today stripped him in the waiting room and asked us to keep him that way."

Adrian feigned a gasp, holding one hand to his chest as if to steady himself. "Really? In the waiting room? Why?"

"This is all part of the program that the doc has your big brother on. You know how he's been playing mean tricks on you lately?" Phil stared down at his plate and proceeded to chomp into his dinner, trying his best to block out every word. He wondered why he could close his eyes, but had no way to shut his ears. Adrian, meanwhile, nodded enthusiastically at his dad's query. "Well, this is supposed to help with that. I don't have a degree in this stuff, but the doc is an expert, and he says that taking your brother down a peg or two should help him be nicer."

"Oh, I get it!" Adrian said as if he had just figured out some new law of the universe, and proceeded to take a gentle bite of his grilled cheese sandwich. The blush inducing table talk lulled as the youngest chewed, only picking up again after a swallow. "But dad..."

"Yes?"

"He's not naked."

A displeased throat clearing on Phil's part did nothing to slow the tide of conversation. "Well, Adrian, he's wearing a shirt. But that's it."

Another theatrical show of shock, another palm to the chest. "Really?"

Phil contributed curtly "Yes. Really."

"Go ahead and see for yourself Adrian. Don't mind Mr. Grumpypants over here."

With a rapid fire application of napkin to hands, the boy scooted off his seat and over beside his big brother, who in turn hunched over his plate. "Sit up Phil. That's bad posture," dad chided.

"Fine, whatever," he huffed, sitting upright. He tugged tightly on his t-shirt and scrunched both bare thighs together to protect as much of his dignity from being shredded in one day as was boyishly possible. As if the protective plane of cotton might have been hiding some secret scrap of clothing, Adrian bent over, bringing his face mere inches from his big brother's shirt. Despite the bottomless boy's best efforts, his bits were growing as hard as they ever had from all the incestuous attention. The fabric formed a well-pitched tent with a leaky piss hole front and center for his baby bro to see not more than an inch from his face. Despite all of this, the younger boy kept his head locked in place, showing no sign of ceasing his penis inspection anytime soon. "Adrian?"

Out of sight of their dad, the younger boy's tongue peeked out from between his lips and licked the cotton covered tip of his big brother's pole. A sharp shota squeak sounded, shivers shaking every inch of the half naked toy for adventurous nine year old brothers. He stood upright once more. "Wow. He really is naked, isn't he? But hey, between grumpy pants and no pants, I think no pants suits you better, big brother." Dad bit his hand to keep from laughing too loudly at his firstborn's remark.

"You little fag! Sooooooo freaking funny. When you grow up, maybe you'll be a comedian, huh?" Phil said. Dad was having too much fun to bother with his usual chiding at profanity.

"When you grow up, maybe you'll be allowed to wear clothes." Phil shot his little brother a stink eye that could have killed a skunk, while dad failed to hold back gut shaking laughter. Adrian resumed his seat and beamed with pride.

the trio finished their dinner. All three were full, two of them happy and one very much not. The nubile half-nudist sat with both arms crossed tightly across his chest, unconsciously clinging to the last scrap of covering left. "So, uh, dad?"

"What is it Phil?"

"I learned my lesson. I'm not gonna pants Adrian ever again, as long as I live. I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die."

"If that's true, then I'm very glad to hear it."

"So can I put some pants on already, pleeeaaase?"

"Hmm... You know, I don't think you ever apologized to your baby brother for what you did. Did he ever apologize to you, Adrian?"

Placing the back of his hand against his forehead and looking away as if he was on the verge of a fainting spell, Adrian replied: "No. No, he never did. And it hurts my feelings very much that he never did."

"I think you should apologize, son."

Swallowing down more than a little pride to cap off his cheeseburger, Phil turned towards his little brother. Adrian planted both elbows on the table, cheeks resting on palms, staring up with wide eyed anticipation at what was to come. "Ahem. Adrian, I'm sorry for all the mean stuff I did to you recently."

"Such as?"

"Pantsing you."

"Where did you pants me again?"

"At your birthday party."

"In front of everyone, wasn't it?"

"...Yes."

"Wow, I don't know if that's something I can forgive just like that." Adrian paused as he peered around the table at his sibling's soft, slender hips that were all too visible and helpless. "But I'll do my best, big brother."

Turning away from Adrian as quickly as the conversation would allow, he was once again the doting son. "See dad? I apologized. And anyways, I've been naked for way longer than Adrian was, so... Don't you think I've learned my lesson? Can I please put some pants on, puh-leaz?"

"Well champ, he was naked in front of a lot more people," dad raised a fist up his mouth and fake coughed, followed by a whispered "At least so far," under his breath. Resuming his normal volume, he continued: "So I don't think you can say you've had it worse than Adrian."

"And that's just the pantsing!" Adrian simulated heaves of his chest, working to make his breath come out in artificial stutters. "Wh-When I th-think about the r-rest of it..." A single nine year old hand reached out to where the napkins usually were in the table center, only for said hand to open in mock surprise upon finding none. "Ph-Phil... Can you get me a n-napkin, please?"

Phil rolled his eyes at the cheap pantomime Adrian was putting on for the family, only for a piercing stare from his dad to let him know that his private parts staying private depended on his actions at this very moment. "Uh..." the boy scanned the table for any errant napkins, seeing none his eyes hit the far end of the kitchen. He would have to walk over and back, with his buns and bits bouncing in the open, which was no doubt a feature and not a bug in Adrian's little production. "Um..." his blonde head worked overtime. "Oh! I got it!" Quickly stripping off his t-shirt, he passed it to his sibling. "Go ahead and use this, baby bro."

"Th-Thanks." Adrian said, before putting the cotton up to his nose and blowing as loudly into it as possible. Pausing for a second to hawk up the nastiest loogie he could summon from the walls of his throat, he spit it square in the center, and then tossed it in the nearby trash. Sitting upright and wiping both eyes with his arms, he seemed to make a near instant recovery. "I feel much better now!"

"Um, Adrian, that was my-"

"Anyway!" Dad cheefully cut off his buck naked firstborn, "I think since Adrian is the one you hurt the most, he should have a say in whether you're allowed to wear clothes ever again. But, of course, it affects you too, right? So, what do you say we put it to a vote?"

"I don't th-"

"That's a great idea, dad! As the big fat guy who used to rule England once said, democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others where I don't get to make my big brother stay naked forever!"

"Wait, I just apolo-"

"So, it's settled then. All in favor of keeping Phil exactly as dressed as he is right at this very moment, raise your hand." One nine year old hand shot up at lightning speed. Phil trembled as much from the cold against his now bare nips as from the proceedings that would seal his fate without so much as one sentence being completed on his part. Slowly turning towards his dad with pleading, plaintive eyes, his father winked slyly before slowly raising his own powerful palm to the sky. "I'll write that down. A vote was taken regarding whether Phil no longer has the right to wear clothes. Two in favor, one against. Let the record show that Phil has hereby permanently lost clothing rights. Phil, go get me some stationery and a pen. We're going to start keeping records around here, and besides, I want to watch your hot little hiney while you walk."

*****

One thoroughly naked and embarrassed eleven year old and one very clothed and smug nine year old sat side by side on the sofa, ostensibly watching cartoons. In spite of the animated mayhem, Phil couldn't help but peer away from the electric light and down towards the paper left ominously on the living room coffee table, and Adrian couldn't help but peer over at his buck naked big brother. Both of Phil's hands were clasped protectively over his penis, keeping the real star of the sexy shota show tantalizingly out of sight, but every other bit of boy flesh was his little brother's to soak in. Phil was too distracted to notice Adrian scoot an inch closer on the couch to his bare boy flesh. "House rules," Phillip read the title of the paper out loud.

"Yeeaahh." Adrian cooed in his big brother's ear.

Phil snapped out of his trance, suddenly becoming aware of his all too eager baby brother leaning in towards him. In a second he scooted over against the arm. "Stop creeping up on me, you little shit!"

"Wow, such filthy language. I don't know if my delicate ears can take it." Adrian inched his way closer. "House rules, though. Aren't they fun?"

"It just doesn't make sense."

"What's that?"

"Why dad would be ok with all of this crap. Why he'd make me go naked. Why he'd even put it up to a vote in the first place."

"Big brother, you know what's so cute about you?" Phillip didn't even deign to answer, instead focusing his flushed face back on the television so he could pretend to be distracted. "I mean, the fact that you have to be naked all the time, forever, is obvious. But what's extra cute about you on top of that is how dumb you are. You had your fun torturing everyone around you, and now you're gonna pay for it, big time. Loss of clothing privileges is juuuuhhhhst the beginning of what's in store for you, Philly."

Trying with all the might he still possessed to act unfazed, Phil swallowed as Adrian kept up his slow crawl across the couch. "...I'm not dumb."

"Oh, you are, but in a very cute way."

"Anyways, this is all a bluff, right? Dad can't mean any of it. Dr. Cassie Mirror is a pedo for sure, but dad never talked like this before."

"Like what?"

"Like..." the tween trailed off.

Adrian scooted close enough that there was now less than inch of air between the siblings. "Like, when he calls you a hot piece of ass?"

Phillip forewent pretending to watch cartoons any longer and turned to face the wall "Forget it."

"Or when he talks about how much he likes seeing your cute butt naked?"

"Leave me alone you fucking pervert."

Just as Adrian was leaning in for a third round of taunting, their father entered the living room carrying a garbage bag filled to the brim. "Hey sport, let's make a deal. I'm going to pretend like I didn't hear you say what you just said to Adrian and I won't belt your adorable ass into hamburger meat. In return, you're going to stop playing with yourself and keep your hands away from that cute kiddy cock of yours for the rest of the night. Deal?"

"But I'm not-" before the shota could squeak out half a sentence, dad exited through the front door and left it wide open. Phil's imagination was bursting with visions of all the kids in the neighborhood walking past at precisely this moment, causing his prepubescent prick to twitch beneath its shield.

"I'd do what dad says if I was you, big brother," Adrian whispered so closely Phil could feel the warmth of his breath against his ear.

Arms atremble, both boy hands slowly withdrew. "Just go away and leave me alone."

"Why should I? You're naked as baby, and now you're just as helpless as one," his sibling began a slow motion reach towards the defenseless dick.

"Stop it Adrian."

"You forgot the magic word, big brother," his open hand continued its approach.

"Stop it PLEASE!" he said, his fear of the familial touch sending the final syllable an octave higher.

"Hmmm..." he hummed, stopping his hand a hair's breadth from the stiffening dicklette. "Ok."

The predicament of the almost molested boy meat caused it to bob up in excitement, head pressing against sibling palm. "Puh... Please move it."

"Hmmmmm..." Adrian mock pondered all while a few more errant twitches pushed his brother's penis all the harder against the soft of his hand. "Ok!" Rubbing his palm in a circle caused the boytoy to freeze up, his strawberry lips rapidly sucking in air as he tried to process all the nerve endings that were firing in his little hard on. Adrian adopted his best imitation of an elderly Asian man, chanting: "Wax on. Wax off. Wax on. Wax off."

"Breath in. Breathe out," father joined son in doing his best Mr. Miyagi, startling both kids out of their not so private moment. Looking as if he had been caught elbow deep in the cookie jar, Adrian pulled his hand away and feigned interest in the television once more. His beet red big brother hunched over, tummy touching thighs and keeping his boy bits safe from further molestation.

"Now you're gonna get it," the older boy hissed through clenched teeth.

"Phil, what do you think you're doing?"

"Huh?"

"Bent over like that. Are you picking up a penny? Scratching your ankle? Because the one thing you better not be doing is covering up that hot little hard on."

"But..." the boy paused, blue eyes blinking and soft mouth agape. "But dad, he touched it!"

"So what?"

"But, but he touched it, dad!"

"I'll ask again. So what?"

As it dawned on Adrian that he was not, in fact, on the hook, a shit eating grin painted his face. "Yeah, big brother. So what?"

"Wha... What?"

"Let me break it down for you, sport. I did tell you that if you covered up, your ass was grass. I did not tell Adrian that he couldn't touch your cock. So starting right now, you have about five seconds to get your butt in gear and sit back up before I go to town on you with a belt, and maybe I'll even let Adrian get in a swing or two for good measure."

"Oh please, please, please stay right where you are Philly! I wanna whip your butt into next Tuesday!"

With all the enthusiasm of a prisoner at the gallows, the naked boy slowly sat upright, freeing his eleven year old erection once more. "Whatever. You don't love me," he said, turning to stare at the wall.

"I'm doing this precisely because I love you, kiddo. The easiest thing I could have done is let you keep running wild and being a little hellion. Besides, if I didn't love you, would I do this?" Approaching the sofa, the man took three thick fingers and rubbed them up and down his progeny's penis. Calloused digits deftly worked their way around the underage member, dipping into the boy's own leaking pre as they stroked shaft and felt frenulum.

"D-Dah...Dad..." The kid was closing in on cloud nine as the man hands worked their well practiced magic. "Feels..." the boy tried and failed to articulate some kind of objection. His limbs tensed up, and a sensation like nothing he had ever felt before was quickly building in his preteen penis.

A sharp sucking of air, a bucking of hips, tense tweenage limbs jerking, and the kid thrust his little bits into the hand of his dad who gave him a few final strokes for good measure. His piss slit was pulsating, but nothing came out except for a few more drops of clear Cowper's fluid. When the father finally relinquished his grip, the boy collapsed into a pleasure puddle.

"Whoa..." Adrian, who had been staring wide eyed and slack jawed at the paternal penis pulling, finally spoke. "Ohmygosh! Dad, that was SO cool! What was that? Huh? Can I do that? Pretty please? I wanna make him flop around like that! Pleeeaaase?"

Adjusting his pants to better hide a hard on of his own after showing his eldest son just how much he loved him, dad replied, "Well Ade, that's called an orgasm..."

"Organism..." the hazy headed tween toy still crumpled on the couch muttered.

"Orgasm Phil. Not organism. Orgasm."

"Yeah big brother. Orgasm. Everybody knows that."

"Anyway, since the sourpuss sexpot over here is having such a hard time being naked, I think it would help him out a lot for you to make him flop his little blonde brains out. You can show him some brotherly love in these trying times."

"What about if I have friends over? I bet they'd wanna do that to him too! His face was real funny!"

"You know what this sounds like, Adrian?"

"What?"

"This sounds like another perfect opportunity for a family vote. All in favor of making it against the rules for your boytoy big brother to cover any part of himself that anyone else wants to see or touch while under this roof permanently, raise your hand!" Not content merely to shoot his hand up towards the ceiling, Adrian frantically waved it back and forth as if it might otherwise be in danger of not being counted.

Finally wresting some sense of bodily control back from his post handjob fog, Phil slowly sat upright. "Dad, you can't."

"Oh, I can't, huh?" Shooting a smirk down at the buck naked fruit of his loins, dad thrust said loins towards his son while raising his hand in the air. "Well, would you look at that? Looks like I just did. Let the record show that Phil has hereby permanently lost covering rights. Let the record also show that his 'privates' are now 'publics' that anyone in this house can touch any time they want. Two in favor, one against. Want to tell me anything else I can't do, kiddo?"

*****

Dad did more chores as the evening wore on, occasionally stopping by to check on the progress his fractious firstborn was having with the latest regimen pediatric psychiatry had to offer. Both Phil and Adrian had long since given up any pretense of staring at the television, with Adrian's eyes now firmly glued to his big brother's bare body and Phil's eyes lost in a sea of sensations. Nine year old hands stroked the sibling shaft for all they were worth. Boy hips would buck, lithe limbs would spasm, and the naked cutie on the couch would sing out moans between heaving breaths. Adrian giggled his little heart out with every new orgasm he milked from his big brother, wringing five more out of his sibling sex toy before the night was over. With Phil still breathing in stilts and stutters from his latest assault, sweat slicking every inch of his well explored boy body, Adrian teased: "Hey, Philly, who am I? I'll give you one guess: Oh. Oh! Oh yeah! Oh God! Don't stop!" Emphasizing his impression with several spastic shakes, he finished his big brother play acting with an ear piercing "Oooohhhh!" before flopping over.

"That's enough Adrian. It's past your bedtime."

"Oh, dad, can I make Phil do an orgasm dance one last time pleeeaaase?"

"You already asked for a 'last time', kiddo."

"This'll be the last one for real, I promise!"

"Nope. Bedtime. Now."

"Fiiine," Adrian said, tearing himself away from his newest and by far best toy and heading off to brush his teeth.

"Phil, same goes for you." The well used boy wobbled to his feet, completely worn out from a day of ever escalating embarrassments and invasions, now on the verge of passing out. "Here, I'll help you walk, sexy." Man hands on boy shoulders, he guided the kid to the bathroom where Adrian was washing his toothbrush under the sink. Taking Phil's toothbrush, he dabbed it against the boy's softening, pre-soaked cock head, sending a new round of shivers through the tweenager.

"Stop..." was all the protest the once spastic sex pet could muster.

"No, your brother is using the water, and I'm not in the mood for waiting. We're wetting it like this." Tugging on his firstborn's foreskin, he scrubbed every last bit of pink glans with bristles, eliciting a soft series of hisses and groans.

"It hurts, dad..."

"Well, you looked like you were feeling some of the best feelings you've ever felt for the last few hours, so I think you can take a little pain to balance it out, champ. It'll toughen you up." With a gentle slap to his son's ass, he withdrew the now thoroughly glistening brush head and coated it with toothpaste. "Open wide, kiddo."

Adrian, having just rinsed out the taste of toothpaste, scrunched up his face as dad went to work inside his big brother's mouth. "Gross, dad! That stuff came from his dick!"

"That just means he's saving water. Haven't they taught you how important water conservation is in school?" Dad winked at his youngest. The man moved the brush in soft circles around Phil's mouth. "Phil, I need you to open up more, or I can't get your molars. There you go. Good boy. Now go rinse it out." Another love tap on tween tush guided the kid towards the sink.

After performing a thorough visual inspection of the well cleaned tween teeth, dad walked his bare boy to bed. Laying him down on the sheets, he kissed the eleven year old once on the forehead and once on the cock head. "Love you, kiddo. Every inch of you."

"Dad..." The boy's eyelids weighed down, blue irises barely peeking out. "This is wrong... I'm a person... I have rights..."

"Yeah, and you're a beautiful person. You should see your tight little ass when you walk. Whew! Now get some sleep Phil, tomorrow is a brand new day."

(End of File)