Tommy's Attitude Adjustment Chapter 87
by Chadlad

copyright 2008 by Chadlad, all rights reserved
chadlad3@yahoo.com

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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Chapter 87: Life's a Bitch, and then You Cry

Tommy Henson was on his hands and knees, completely naked, in a strange boy's bedroom. Well, he wasn't exactly completely naked – he'd left his socks on. The strange boy was slouched against pillows, his bottom half naked, his legs splayed and bent at the knees, his toes curling upward and his eyes shut. Tommy's rounded, bare butt was in the air and his legs separated to maintain his balance, so that his knees actually were touching the boy's feet. As he was leaning forward with his head lowered to the boy's crotch, his butt crack was wide open, his slightly swollen butthole on display along with his orange-red, Mercurichome painted scrotum. Tommy's penis wasn't visible from behind, though, despite his lewd position, because it was rock hard with excitement and tight against his stomach. Overall, though, the sight of his upturned, boyish bottom would have made quite the shocking picture if someone were to suddenly come through the strange boy's open bedroom door. Such a sudden intrusion was not on either boy's mind, though. The strange boy was focused on the wonderful sensations coming from his cock, the hot, wet mouth enclosing the entire length of his boyhood, the tongue sucking and milking the tip of his organ, deep in the other boy's mouth. Heightening his enjoyment, this boy was his slave, at least for the next hour, and he could force the boy to do anything.

He'd dreamed of this for a long time. In his dream it had been Wayne the Stain who he'd made his bitch, weird, gangly Wayne who would be kneeling between his legs sucking his dick, or being held down by his weight as he plunged his hard dick into the boy's shit hole. But the rest of the dream was the same – a dream of power, of being able to force another boy to do these two things that are most humiliating for a boy. Holding a the other boy's firm, hot body down, turning him face down, demonstrating that he, as a person, wasn't important, didn't even need to be seen. Because he wasn't a person at all, he was just your bitch, your tool. He imagined shoving his hard cock between the bitch boy's buns, right into his shit hole, forcing the muscular orbs apart and finding the soft, yielding orifice, probing it with his dick head and then forcing his way into the boy, making the tight, hot hole stretch beyond all enduring, feeling the other boy tense and squeak under him as his powerful dick dominated the boy, filled him fuller than he'd ever been. Making the boy understand that he had to take it, had to take it just like some girl had to take it up the pussy. Only his bitch wasn't a girl who could expect that sort of treatment – he was a boy, and had expected to be the invader, not the invaded. And that made it the ultimate in humiliation. Rocking himself in and out without any regard for the pain or embarrassment to the writhing bitch animal underneath him, raping him with long, satisfying thrusts until, with explosive strength, he'd thrust himself all the way in, flattening his groin and the kid's butt as his dick swelled and pulsed and shot his seed deep into the boy's bowels, fouled him internally in the ultimate insult. Then just lying there, keeping him pinned afterward, making him feel the power of the dick still inside him, barely less hard at all for all the power of his climax. Then casually pulling out without regard for the bitch boy's feelings, perhaps ordering him to get a washcloth and wash the boy's sated cock, or maybe punishing the kid for some imagined slight, like being too tight or protesting too loudly. He could just see a violated Wayne cowering in front of him, slightly hunched from the burning in his rectum, cowering before him, begging him not to whip his butt or squeeze his balls, or painfully twist his pathetic, anteater penis.

Yet, enticing though that picture was, this one was better. Taking a boy in the mouth was more demeaning for his victim, and thus more satisfying for him. Because this way, he had even more power. They boy had to completely submit to him, kneel humiliatingly between his legs, take his hard manhood in, and suck it, taste it on his tongue, feel it on his lips. When you took a boy in the butt, his head was at a height with yours, and he might feel more your equal even though you were invading him. But in submitting orally to you, the kid had to put himself at a lower level, lower his mouth to the level of the boy's groin. The bottom end of his body, the one farthest from his mouth and eyes and brain. The end that pissed, and shat, and farted. And he had to take the part that pissed into his mouth, and keep it there while he sucked and licked, tasting the boy's pungent manhood the whole time. And in doing so, he was admitting he was the bitch, the one who had to submit. The whole thought made the boy harder than he'd ever been, harder, even, then when he'd been blown by Aiesha herself. Oh, that had been fun, making the fat bitch submit, the first time because she was out of her mind, the second because he had pictures and she had to. But still, this was better. Because Aeisha was a girl, and girls were supposed to do that stuff. Aeisha might even have secretly enjoyed sucking him. But this was a boy. His boy. His bitch. And that boy's humiliation made the whole process intoxicating. He could feel Tommy's breath against the nest of his pubic hair as the boy's mouth worked on him, and feel the boy's shame in having to lower himself to this disgusting deed. And the best part was yet to come, and would be coming in moments – the part where he'd grasp the boy's head by the hair, force it all the way to his groin, and then hump against the boy's mouth, spilling his seed into the boy and forcing him to swallow it, swallow it like a girl's womb swallowed a guy's seed, the ultimate demonstration of his contempt for the boy.

This was a fantasy that he'd entertained for a long time, for more than three years. It was a fantasy that began during his mother's ill-starred 4 month marriage to his step dad.

Oh, the step dad wasn't the major player here. He'd been interested only in banging the boy's mother, banging her multiple times a week, loudly, unashamedly, and sometimes with the bedroom door left open, as if boys didn't get up in the night to pee or just to wander and look for the source of the strange thumping and moaning noises. Within the first week of his step dad moving in, the boy had found himself standing in the darkness of the hall watching with wide eyes as the man's huge cock pistoned tirelessly in and out of his mother's widespread cunt. They were doing it on his mother's bed, and he lay on top of her, his knees spread so wide that his pendulous balls and hairy butt crack was in full view, as well as his mother's cunt. And his mother had shameless moaned and panted and clutched at his back and begged for his stepfather to fuck her harder. He'd been almost shocked watching his mother's cunt lips cling to the man's cock as he pulled out, and then give and fold in again as the man rammed back in. He could still remember the wetness, the pinkness, and the weirdness of it all.

And while he'd been standing there, his mouth agape and his cock tenting the boys' pajamas he still wore then, threatening to emerge out the open pajama fly, he almost jumped out of his skin when a voice by his ear suddenly said, "Your mom's a bitch slut, you know. But Pop can handle bitch sluts – he knows what they want." Then an iron hand had gripped him by the upper arm, sharp nails digging in, and pulled him back to his room, and he'd been introduced to the concept of boys making other boys their bitches.

Because the stepfather had come with a stepsister, a girl of 15 to his 12 at the time. A dark haired, dark skinned, girl with pert breasts, muscular legs and arms, and a weasel face with a pointed chin and nose. He'd been just about to enter puberty then and had been at that awkward age when boys develop pubertal body fat but otherwise show no signs of maturity, all legs and arms and baby fat and "no goodies" as his stepsister mockingly pointed out many times following that day. She'd pulled the boy back into his bedroom, shut the door behind them. In the glow of his nightlight, she'd glared down at him, still gripping his arm painfully, and laid down the law that was to apply for the next 4 months in a hoarse, menacing whisper.

"You were spying on Pop fucking your bitch-slut mother, pussy boy. Pop doesn't like spying pussy boys. You know what Pop does to spying little pussy boys? He cuts their balls off with his Bowie knife. Their little dicks, too. He makes pussy boys out of them for real." She looked at him with complete seriousness, and he believed every word she said, never questioning any of it until long afterward. He could feel his aforementioned balls trying to climb to safety inside him as she spoke, while his little boy penis shriveled to nothing in fright. Still holding his arm, which had begun trembling, she had roughly groped the front of his pajama pants, finding the soft, vulnerable little finger of a prick and squeezing it hard. Probing, pushing downward, she found his retracted balls and pushed them against his pelvis, bearing down just enough to cause discomfort. "You like your little dick, don't you, pussy boy? And your baby balls? So you don't want me to tell him you were spying, do you?"

Too frightened to speak, the boy had shaken his head vigorously. "Then we understand each other," she said. "You do what I say from now on, I don't tell. You slip up even one time and..." she mimed holding out his ball sack in front of his crotch, made knife-sawing motions with her other hand. The boy's bowels felt like they were turning to water, and he was glad he'd peed just before going to check out the noise in his mom's room. The girl looked at his frightened face in the dim light and nodded. "Stand there, and don't you dare move." She released both the boy's arm, and he concentrated on standing absolutely still while she strode across the room and slapped the other resident of the room on his briefs-clad rump, which was protruding out the side of the covers. That person, his new stepbrother, awoke with a jerk and a muffled cry, quickly silenced when he saw his sister standing over him with her finger to her lips. "Get up, little brother," she said. The boy's step brother stretched elaborately and scrubbed at his eyes, but he did as he was bidden by his older sister. He was almost a year younger than the boy, but roughly the same size. Like his sister, he had a pointed, weasel face, dark eyes and hair, and dusky skin. Unlike the boy, he slept in boy's briefs, skin tight and displaying a prominent crotch tent that was testimony to the erotic dream out of which he'd been awakened, or perhaps just to a general horniness that seemed to pervade his being.

The tent itself was quite impressive on a half-grown boy. That crotch bulge that had been the envy of the boy from the moment his step-brother had arrived. The day he'd moved into the boy's room just the week before, in fact, he'd immediately stripped off the clothes he'd been wearing for the drive over and proceeded to poke through his suitcase evaluating what he wished to wear, all the time shamelessly exhibiting his naked body to his new big brother. His choice of clothing had taken quite some time, and all the while the boy had not been able to avoid looking at his stepbrother while simultaneously trying not to look like he was looking at him. He'd been shocked by the boy's crotch, which had been covered with straight, downy hair, out of which a fat phallus dangled, only about three inches long flaccid, but far bigger than his own even when it was hard. The head on the circumcised tool was prominent, and the balls under it looking huge compared to the boy's own plum-sized sack. The stepbrother's genitals were a darker, duskier brown than his body, which made them stand out more prominently. The boy was mesmerized as the whole package swayed with the stepbrother's movements – it was rather like watching a snake weave back and forth, preparing to strike.

But that wasn't the biggest shock for the boy. Because his new stepsister suddenly swung open the door and walked in, big as you please, and began questioning her brother on the whereabouts of a particular bag. And his new stepbrother hadn't run screaming for cover as he would have under the same circumstances. He'd very calmly propped his far leg up on the bed, leaned on it, making his genitals even more prominent and visible, and began making suggestions as to where the bag might be. Continuing to talk with her, he'd reached down and idly fingered his prick, making it partially hard, then dropped it and casually chosen a pair of tight white underpants and slipped them on, tucking his genitals in with his hands unselfconsciously, and then adjusting himself through the cloth. Topping it all off, his sister had let her hand trail across his briefs as she left, quite clearly touching his bulging package, and the younger brother hadn't said a word of protest, or acted like this was odd in any way.

They boy had become even more self-conscious about his own body from that point on, even as his new stepbrother continued to flaunt himself. He'd tried to change with his back turned, and locked the bathroom door when he was in there, even just to pee, but still his new roommate would catch glimpses of his now clearly inadequate genitals and call attention to them. "I think you've got a worm attached to your crotch. Oh, sorry, that's your dick," he'd say. Or, "Put the toilet seat up after you sit down to pee, will ya, guy? Us guys that pee standing up don't like it left in the way."

The step brother had stopped rubbing his face and was looking at the boy with his predatory, weasel eyes glittering in the semidarkness. "He was spying on Pop banging the bitch-slut," his stepsister said. "You want to teach him a lesson? I told him that Pop would cut off his baby balls if he found out."

"You want to fuck him, then fuck him. Mouth or butt, your choice. Make him your bitch," the boy's stepsister said calmly to her brother, as if the boy wasn't there. She turned back to the boy. "Or you can lose your precious balls and your baby pisser to Pop's knife. That might be fun. So make a choice, right now. Be a girl for real, or be my brother's bitch."

The boy had instinctively clapped both hands over his crotch protectively and his new stepsister had grinned ferally. "Thought that would be your choice. You boys are all about your little wee-wees." She grabbed him around the waist and shoved him roughly to the floor, face down, where his mattress lay on the ground next to the new stepbrother's more elaborate bedstead. The bedstead had been his, but he'd been exiled to the mattress on the floor the first day. His stepbrother had pointed out that it wasn't fair that he had to sleep on the floor, and his stepfather and turned, looked at him, and said, "So you get the floor, and my son sleeps on the bed," in a tone that brooked no protest.

Meanwhile, her brother had slid his briefs off, his thick penis looking like a pole pointed out in front of him, not the first time the boy had seen his step brother with a raging hard on, but certainly the first time he'd found it frightening. He was maybe 5 inches long erect, but it looked at least a foot long to the boy, looking fearfully upward from where his stepsister was leaning on him. His stepsister moved her body aside and let her stepbrother straddle his legs, then pulled his arms above his head and held them there in hers. He could feel the boy's soft, muscular butt against pajama-clad legs. The younger step sibling had then leaned forward and pressed his body against his older step brother, making it hard for him to breathe as the other boy's weight settled on his back and pressed his chest into the mattress. They stepbrother's hard cock pressed the side of the boy's small, pajama clad butt. When the boy had tried to gasp his protests, the stepsister had hissed an ominous warning. "You're going to be my brother's bitch," she said. "And one of the things you do to your bitch is fuck her, just like Pop is doing to your bitch-slut mother. You know about fucking, don't you, pussy boy? My brother's going to fuck you, just like Pop's fucking your bitch slut mother. Because that's all you people are good for, fucking. Only he's doing her in the cunt, and little brother is going to do you in your tight little pussy-boy butt," his stepsister had announced. "And you'd better be quiet if you don't want Pop to know what you did."

The boy's heart was thudding now, because he'd understood what she'd said all to clearly. He was going to be butt-fucked by his stepbrother. Kids talked about people butt fucking at school in derisive tones, talking about queer boys who took it up the butt and liked it, and about taking girls up the butt so you didn't get them pregnant. His step brother was going to stick his big dick up the hole where he pooped, and ram it in and out just like his stepbrother's father was doing to his mother's female parts. Only her parts were made for that, if the boys at school were to be believed. And his butt hole wasn't.

He'd learned about being dominated then. His pajama pants were yanked down so hard they tore, but his new stepbrother had ignored that, simply bunching them below the firm globes of his youthful butt. His buttocks were roughly pried apart, and when he'd tried to clench them to protect himself, his stepbrother had leaned over his back and hissed in his ear, "Let me in. Or, snip, snip, and pussy boy's singing soprano," a reference he didn't fully understand but sensed, nonetheless, involved the loss of his immature balls. He'd forced himself to unclench. His stepbrother had hawked and spit on his butt hole, rubbing the saliva into the tight slit of his bunched nether eye, a feeling that was almost erotic. The stepbrother had then spit on his own penis as well. (Not for his stepbrother's comfort, but simply his stepbrother had taken other little boys in the butt in the past, and he knew, from past experience, that young boys had butt holes so tight they hurt the tip of his penis when he tried to push it in if he didn't lubricate it to at least some degree). Then the stepbrother had settled his weight on the boy's back full length, covered the boy's mouth tightly with his hand. The boy gagged, then, because the stepbrother was covering his mouth with the fingers that had massaged his butt hole, and he could smell his own poop on the boy's fingers. The boy ignored his distress, though, and shifted his body, awkwardly spread the boy's buns with his free hand and sliding his penis between them. Immediately, the boy had felt the hard, cold, wet tip of the kid's penis against his anal slit, and with a lunge that made it feel like he was being split apart, the kid had entered him and immediately began a frenzied rocking of his hips, making the fat cock slide in and out of the boy's burning, overstretched hole.

At least the stepbrother came quickly. He always came quickly, all 4 months that he'd been the boy's tormentor. He hadn't got in more than 4 good thrusts before he was squashing the boy's tight butt under him, arching his back as he rammed in as deeply as he could, pumping his meager seed deep into the boy's rectum. He'd shuddered and collapsed with all his weight on his older stepbrother, rested there, panting, a minute, then abruptly rose and pulled out with a soft pop, stalking out of the room to the bathroom where the flush of the toilet and then running water was heard after a bit. His older sister released the boy's hands and moved to his hindquarters, spreading the now softly crying boy's butt and examining it in the dim light of the night light. Then she'd arisen, leaving him sniffling into the mattress, and walked to her room, coming back with some cotton balls which she pushed painfully into his still stretched anus. "This will stop the bleeding," she said. "Don't worry, pussy boy – after he stretches you out, you won't hurt as much. You'll come to like it." She rose again and left.

The stepbrother had returned moments later, his penis fat-headed and swaying in satiety, stepping over and climbing into the bed without putting on his briefs again. "You got a nice, tight ass," he said to the boy, who was still sniffling into his pillow, soaking it with tears. His rectum burned fiercely, and his insides were stirred up and felt violated. "I'm going to get some of that every day from now on." He readjusted his position in bed. "Stop that sniveling, pussy boy. Or I'll go another round with you right now."

Just to add insult to injury, he'd gotten spanked a day later for tearing his new pajama pants, which of course his step brother had done in his haste to claim the boy's ass. And the spanking was a new and humiliating experience, too, because it was administered on his naked bottom right in the living room with his stepbrother and sister both watching openly and smirking in the background while his lower half was stripped and he begged and kicked and cried like a baby. His mother had seldom spanked him in the past, and then only by hand on the seat of his jeans. But this spanking he got from his new stepfather. Upon hearing that the boy's new pajamas were torn, he'd gone on a tirade about how he wasn't paying for clothing for her brat to tear up, and that if she had any sense she'd whip his butt right there and then.

His mother had refused. "I can't spank him," she said. "I can't stand it when he cries."

"I can," his stepfather had said. "You just go for a walk, and I'll teach the little brat some manners."

His stepfather had reached for him even before his mother had left the apartment, and before he could even consider trying to escape. His arm was seized in an iron grip, and he was dragged over to the worn, lumpy sofa. "Take your pants down, boy," the man had ordered, as the boy's stepbrother and sister looked on, smirking. "Take your panties off, too."

The boy hadn't moved. His stepfather tightened his grip. "Did you hear me, boy?" he barked.

"You got hair on your crotch, boy?" the man had barked.

"Huh?" the boy had responded, puzzled at this intrusive question.

"I said, you got hair on your crotch?" the man repeated.

"Uh, noooo—" the boy had said hesitantly.

"Tell him the rule," the man barked at his own kids.

"If you don't have hair down there, you get it bare," the boys stepbrother and stepsister both said simultaneously and gleefully.

"That's right," the boy's stepfather said. "Once you've got hair, you get whipped with the belt on your underpants. My kids both have hair down there, so they get it with a belt now – it's not fitting to treat half-grown teens like little kids. But you don't have hair, and while you're still a bald little boy down there, you get it bare. Now get your pants and panties off."

The boy still had hesitated. "Do you have to do it in front of them?" he whined.

"Family punishments are done in front of the family," the man said with finality. "What's the matter, boy? Ashamed to be naked in front of your brother and sister? Ashamed of your baby prick? I suppose you are. Big kid like you with now hair on his crotch probably has lots to be ashamed of. But I'm sure it's nothing they haven't seen before – your sister's diapered lots of little ones –I'm sure she's seen plenty of toddler pricks. Now get those pants and panties off."

The boy still had hesitated. Suddenly, and without warning, the man had reached out with his free hand and slapped the boy's face. As the boy had recoiled, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, the man had reached down and yanked the front of his pants. The button had popped off and gone flying, the zipper had ripped where it joined the fly, and the boy's pants were around his knees before he was even fully registering the burning heat on his cheek from the slap. The man roughly grabbed his briefs next and yanked them down, ripping the elastic so that they fell in a puddle on top of his lowered pants. "Impudent brat," the man barked. "Now you've torn your pants and your panties, too! You'll pay for those as well."

"Pay with his butt, right Pop!" the boy's stepbrother smirked.

"Right," his father had said. He shook the boy by his grip on the boy's arm. "I'm gonna have to paddle you now after I spank you. I had been just going to redden your ass, but now I'm gonna blister it."

Through the haze of pain in his face, it dawned on the boy that he was naked in the living room, about to be spanked or worse. "Nooooooo!" he wailed.

"Shut up!" his new stepfather said. He slapped the boy sharply on the other cheek. The boy began sobbing, his hands clutching his face. "Get over my knees!" his stepfather ordered. "Try not to be such a pussy boy! You haven't even started hurting yet!"

"That's the tiniest weenie I've ever seen," his stepsister commented, pointing at his fear-shriveled genitals, just as if she hadn't already seen them before. "He looks like a big baby down there."

The stepfather had looked at the boy's crotch with contempt. "He is pretty pathetic," he commented, lifting the boy's inch long projection with an index finger and studying the plum-sized sack underneath. "I've seen clits bigger than that." He turned his face toward the softly sobbing boy. "Looks like you're going to be getting it bare for quite a while yet. Quite a while. And I'm a big believer in spanking for pussy boys. Helps toughen you guys up. So you'd might as well get used to being naked and over my knees. Now get into position for your licking!"

Still sobbing, the boy had settled fearfully across the man's rough lap. The man had lifted him around the waist and shoved him further forward, so that his butt was centered under the man's hand. "Ok, boy. I'm going to spank you first, for tearing your new pajamas. Then I'll paddle you for tearing your pants."

"What about ripping his undies, Pop?" the stepbrother asked.

"I'll leave that for you two," he said gruffly. "You want to punish him for that after I've blistered his butt, that's up to you. But I'm gonna tear his butt up pretty bad, so you'll have to settle for his little prick and balls." He turned his attention to the boy trembling over his lap, examining the white globes of the boy's bare butt with a practiced eye. "You're soft, boy," he commented. "A pussy-boy with a soft, girly butt. I don't put up with that around me. You're gonna grow some balls if I have to half kill you do make it happen." He rested a big ham hand on the boy's soft butt, making the boy flinch and whimper in fear. "Cut it out!" the man snapped. "I expect my boys to keep their sniveling to themselves when they get whipped! You just grab onto that pillow right there and stick you big fat yap in that while I blister your ass! You try to get away and I'll tie you to the crossbeam and whip you with my belt, right out front where everyone can see!"

"They'll see your little weenie!" his stepsister had said gleefully. "And your baby balls."

"No they won't," her brother said. "He hasn't got any!" They both giggled gleefully. The man raised his hand and brought it down hard on the kid's butt with a sharp crack.

The next few minutes were the most agonizing the boy had ever experienced, and still made him shiver when he thought about it, three years later. He'd been spanked, slow and hard, with a hand big enough to cover half a butt cheek on each blow. Half way through his spanking he'd been unable to stand it anymore and had reached back with both hands to protect his burning butt, a move that resulted in his step-siblings holding his hands the rest of the spanking out in front of him. Then, during the rest of the spanking that had been extended because he'd reached back, he began kicking so violently he slipped off the man's lap. At that point, the man had grasped his genitals and hauled him back up, squeezing his small ball sack hard, and then extended his spanking again for resisting more. After an unimaginably long time of butt searing agony that had him squealing and yanking on his genitals in a blind attempt to escape, he'd been released. Unable to control himself, he'd leapt to his feed and hopped around the room spasmodically for some time, wailing and holding his bright red butt. The man and his kids had gone to the kitchen for beer and sodas, then settled on the couch and watched his antics wordlessly until he calmed down some and became aware of how ridiculous he looked hopping around with his little penis flopping. At that point his stepfather had sat his beer down. "Time for your paddling, boy," he'd said. The boy, who'd honestly thought his punishment was done, had frozen, staring in shock at the trio, the glaring adult and the two smirking step-siblings, the color draining from his face. Then he'd done the most shameful thing of all – his inch long little penis suddenly erupted, emptying his bladder onto the carpet.

Moving faster than he'd thought possible, his stepfather was on him, grapping his neck and shoving his face to the floor, where he proceeded to roll the boy's face back and forth across the pee-stained carpet, wiping it with the boy's face, his cheeks, and his hair. "I'll teach you not to act like an animal," he snarled, releasing the lad. "An animal pisses on the carpet, you rub his face in it. The boy, his face red with carpet burns and his hair reeking, was seized around the waist and deposited over his stepfather's lap, his stepsister taking his hands and holding them out in front of him again, while his stepbrother gleefully scoured the apartment for a suitable paddle for his bare butt.

All too soon, the stepbrother had returned with a wooden spoon, and, true to his word, the man proceeded to slowly and methodically blister his soft little butt with it. Long before he was done, the boy had surrendered completely, lying limp across the man's lap, sobbing, as blow after blow landed on his welted, unprotected skin, his only movement the spasmodic quivering of his tortured buns. But that wasn't the end of it, even when the spanking stopped. Because the man had left then, left the apartment and his sobbing stepson for to find the boy's mother and take her with him to the local bar, and the boy's stepsiblings had then gleefully stretched him out on the floor and sat on him, his stepsister on his back, his stepbrother on his legs, and the two of them had pried his butt crack apart and then smacked his sore, abused butt hole with the wooden spoon multiple times, making him beg for them to stop in between blows. The boy tried his mightiest to resist this treatment, but his butt refused to clench as a result of the abuse it had suffered, and he was totally unable to keep one sibling from leaning into his buttocks and spreading them as the other took aim with the spoon on his swollen hole. To cap that off, his stepsister landed a final blow right on the base of his plump little sack as it protruded back between his legs, and he more or less blacked out.

When he was fully aware of anything besides blinding pain, it was later, and he was lying naked face down in his bed, his stepsister kneeling beside him. "I've got to put this stuff up your butt," she said, holding up a tube with an applicator tip. "I told your mom you were sore back there from playing with yourself – you know, rubbing your dick and sticking your finger up your butt at the same time. She you've got to let me put this stuff in you three times a day, and that if I see you touching your weenie I'm supposed to tell Pop so he can spank you even harder than you got it today. I will, too. Your little wee-wee is off limits to you from now on. But look on the bright side – if you don't jerk off, you'll be horny all the time, and you'll like it better when my brother takes you up the butt. And this stuff will probably make him slide in easier. Now hold still – this is probably going to hurt."

It did, but he bore it. He bore everything that happened after that. He'd sucked his stepbrother's cock that night, because his butt was too sore to satisfy his stepbrother his preferred way. He didn't want another spanking, and he didn't want to lose his balls or his dick, and he hadn't resisted being converted into his younger stepbrother's boy bitch at any point after that. He hadn't resisted or complained when the boy had tired of blow jobs two days later and made him take his almost man-sized cock up his butt again, even though he was still so sore that shitting was a nightmare. He didn't complain about anything the boy did to him after that night. He'd become the boy's bitch in reality. If the boy walked to his bed at night and stood, he rose mechanically and pulled the boy's underpants down and began sucking him immediately. If the boy pointed to the floor, he would lay face down and tilt his butt up, reaching back to separate the cheeks so the boy could enter him more easily. He even began licking his stepbrother's cock before the boy impaled him, saving his stepbrother the trouble of providing the lubrication himself. Half the time his stepsister would join her brother in these humiliation sessions, leaning back on her brother's bed with a hand languidly working in her panties as the boy gasped in pain in time with the hard dick thrusting in his butt or knelt red-faced and took the boy's hard member as far as he could into his mouth.

He never told during the remainder of the 4 month marriage, even though the butt fucking and cock sucking continued to alternate each night (his stepbrother once said he needed a day between being "reamed" to heal so he'd stay tight.) His stepsister stopped being modest around him and began removing her panties as she watched him being dominated, so that he saw her adolescent pussy full on during those sessions, pink and wet and puffy from her excitement. Often his stepbrother would cum long before his stepsister, and the two of them would then look on as the stepsister continued working her cunt until she'd gasp and cum herself. The boy stopped calling him pussy boy after the first week and began referring to him as his bitch, and it was his stepbrother's bitch that he remained until the end. The final month of his servitude, his stepsister had even insisted that he lick her pussy after his stepbrother had cum up his butt, and he learned all about the man in the boat and how to provide good tongue action.

To compound his misery, his stepbrother enforced his mother's ruling, and forbade him to touch his own genitals at all during this time period, either to provide himself with whatever comfort he could gain, or even to innocently aim himself while peeing. "You make me cum, but you don't cum yourself," he had been told repeatedly, and thus his penile recreation was limited to the spare moments when he could be alone and sure his stepbrother or stepsister or mother or step father weren't surreptitiously observing, and there were darn few of those times.

That turned out to be even harder than it had first seemed. It was hard trying to go to sleep with the taste of his brother's semen in his mouth and his own little cock begging to be touched, throbbing against the mattress, overstimulated from the sight of his stepsister's masturbatory efforts. He'd tried humping the mattress covertly when he thought his brother had dropped into post-orgasmic sleep, only to be suddenly and rudely turned over and punched so hard in his little-boy balls that he couldn't even scream. (And by the time he could, his brother's big hand was smothering his mouth). He also tried masturbating when in the bathroom supposedly taking a dump, but he'd paid for that, too. His stepsister had wrenched to door open (the lock wasn't all that good and would slip if jiggled hard) and caught him just as his penis was pulsing dryly in his hand. She'd looked at him contemptuously. "What part of 'you don't play with your pee-pee, ever' didn't you understand?" He hadn't answered, just stood there holding his now softening penis guiltily. "The folks just left," she said. "They took my dickfaced brother with them. So you and I are all alone." She smiled at him, like a cat smiles at a mouse. "You like to play with your baby weenie?" she said. "Fine. So that's what you'll do. You'll play with it from now until bed time. You have to make it hard and keep it hard the whole time."

The boy had swallowed hard. "What if I can't?" he said. "Sometimes it won't get up, you know."

"But..." he said.

"But nothing," she replied. "Get hard, now. My girlfriends are coming over, and I want you to make a good impression."

"Girlfriends?" he'd squeaked.

Sadly, they had. In fact, once they'd got done laughing at the naked boy playing with his toddler-sized hard on, they'd taken turns playing with his genitals. His sister had graciously rescinded the ban on cumming while being manipulated by them, and he'd experienced 6 orgasms that evening. The girls had finally sent him to bed, still naked, with orders to lie on his stomach right on top of his now sore phallus, so he couldn't touch himself in the night. It had taken him a long time to fall asleep. But when he had, he had been awakened rudely in the middle of the night with the weight of his stepbrother pinning him, and a hard dick invading his butt, thrusting several times, and filling him with cum before he was even fully awake.

His butt had stretched, and he got to where he could take his stepbrother up it easily with only a bit of spit as a lubricant. And he got used to sucking cock, as used to it as he was to peeing. He'd even gotten used to licking his stepsister's cunt. And then, without warning, his life had shifted again.

There had been fights up to that point, screaming matches between his mother and stepfather, matches where one or the other of them would stomp out, slamming the door. He'd quickly learned to dread it when his mother was the one who left, because his stepfather would then roam the apartment until he found something the boy had done wrong, then bare him in the living room and spank, paddle or whip his butt until he was broken and sobbing again. This always was followed by him being sent to his room, where his stepbrother would join him almost immediately, and his stepsister, too, the former reveling in taking him up the butt while his butt was glowing red and hot, and the latter watching with a smirk and manipulating herself. But the, oh glorious day, he'd come home from school, and all of them were gone and their stuff, too, and he'd learned that his mother was getting a divorce, and that he'd never see them again. And he'd felt relief.

No more spankings. No more being butt fucked in the middle of the night, or sucking his stepbrother's fat cock, or licking his stepsister's cunt. But over the months he began to feel that something was missing. He could masturbate all he wanted now, and his genitals were growing rapidly, bringing with that growth the ability to wet cum. And gradually, over the years, a new fantasy arose in him. A fantasy where he mentally changed places with his dominator, until he was the boy who made the other boy his bitch. A fantasy that he masturbated to endlessly, dreaming of actually carrying it out. And now this wasn't a dream, it was reality. He was making another boy his bitch, and not a wuss boy like Wayne the Stain, but a real boy almost as big as him, with a real dick and not an anteater nose at his crotch. He thrilled with the thought of how humiliated he must be making this boy feel in forcing the boy to suck his cock.

The strange boy would have been surprised at Tommy's thoughts. Because Tommy wasn't seething with resentment and humiliation at being forced to do this act of degradation. Tommy was excited. Yes, he recognized that his position was considered as humiliating as any position a boy could be put in, more humiliating than crying while being spanked naked in front of girls and other boys, more humiliating than being stripped in public and having kids make fun of his genitals, more humiliating, even, then if his cock were to crawl inside his body like his brother's often did while those things were happening. But the humiliation wasn't making him feel small and weak, as he'd felt while wearing the SCOOB and carrying books. This humiliation was coupled with overwhelming sexual excitement. Go ahead, dominate me! his mind was singing. I'm scum! I deserve it! I'm a cocksucking little pussy, that's what I am! I deserve everything you give me! I butt fucked my cousin, and made my brother suck me, and cruelly spanked his butt when he was so sore he couldn't stand it. I'm attracted to boys! I'm gay! But I'm scum! Give me what I deserve!

He wasn't even aware of his lewdly exposed butt, although he was acutely aware of his throbbing genitals. Throbbing, excited, even though his mouth was full of adolescent cock.

Well, full was a bit of an exaggeration. Tommy wasn't sure what he was expecting when he had climbed obediently down between the boy's legs onto the bobbing surface of the water bed. The kid was a year or two older than him, after all, and he was bigger, and he acted quite a lot more manly, and he'd bragged that Tommy's cock was nothing and called him a "dickless wonder." So perhaps Tommy had been expecting something mind-boggling to be under the boy's shorts zipper – something huge, perhaps even something to rival the almost 6-inch python of his brother's pale new friend S. F. But unbuckling the boy's pants and fishing in the moist heat inside the fly of the boy's boxers, he'd found something somewhat less substantial than that.

It wasn't that the boy was in any way poorly hung. The throbbing stalk that Tommy had finally worked through the open fly was respectable enough for a teen boy. Once released, it stood up like a fleshy pole into the air, and it was as hard as any boy ever got. But it was short compared to the dick on Chad's friend, perhaps 5 inches from the boy's groin, where it emerged from thick, bushy hair, to the circumcised tip. It was not assymetrical, but it was mildly curved, so the fleshy, knotted underside was more prominent than on Tommy, his brother, or Jesse. The circumcision scar was dark and prominent, almost dark brown, and the pee hole in the tip was a slightly open oval, not neatly shut like Chad's and Jesse's and Tommy's own was even when excited.

Although the boy's dick was longer than Tommy's 3 or so inches, it wasn't really any thicker, might even have been thinner, and that observation made Tommy's heart pound faster. It was barely wider than Jesse's shorter tool, barely wider though longer than Elvin's, and he'd had both of those up his butt. And unlike those two, this one might actually fill him more deeply than the lower inch or so of his rectum, if the time came that he was forced to take this boy's tool there. And he realized he did want it there, wanted to see what it felt like. But now, looking at it, he wondered how far into his mouth it would go – certainly farther than the middle of his tongue, which was all the farther any boy he'd sucked up to this point had gone.

Tommy fussed with the boy's boxers for a few moments. The boy's dick wouldn't come all the way out of them, and the fronts of the boy's zippered shorts kept flapping shut against the sides of his erect dick. The boy finally pushed Tommy's face back rudely with the palm of his hand so that Tommy slipped back onto his bare haunches, and lifted his midsection, sliding the shorts and boxers off in one motion, then settling down on his bare bottom against the bed. Tommy could see the boy's balls, now, larger than his, pendulous rather than snug like his own. In fact, although his dick was thinner and shorter, the boy's balls looked rather like those of Chad's friend S. F. The dick reminded Tommy of someone else, though, now that the boy's legs and genital region was completely bare. Alan Delvechhio, that's who it was. Alan didn't have balls this big, and he hadn't had any pubic hair by the time Tommy had seen him naked (Mrs. Rose had shaved it off in class, Chad told Tommy later). But Alan's dick had been something like this, longer and thinner than the dicks of both the Henson brothers.

Free of his boxers, the boy's dick now stood up, curved and proud. It also was glistening with a drop of moisture filling the open pee slit, a drop of clear moisture that looked like thick spit. Tommy had never heard of precum before, but he rightly surmised that he was looking at the beginning hint of the effluent of the boy that he'd soon be forced to take in if he went through with sucking him. It looked like snot, and he hesitated a minute.

The kid glared at Tommy. "What are you looking at, Dickless? Ain't you ever seen a real man's dick before?"

Tommy almost laughed, distracted for a moment from the drop of fluid in the boy's pee hole. This kid thought he had a big dick? A real man's dick? What would he think if he saw S. F.'s? "Mine's wider than yours," he blurted out without thinking. "And I'm younger."

The kid moved like a python, or a leaping tiger, perhaps, was up in a moment, and suddenly Tommy's own throbbing dick felt like it had been caught in a vise, while a second vice closed painfully on his protruding ball sack. "Your dick is half the size of mine, Dickless," the boy snarled. "You're just a little baby, with a baby dick and baby balls. You ought to have a diaper on those things, they're so baby. You probably have to wear diapers. You probably still piss the bed. Don't you dare compare my dick to yours, unless you want to be a balless wonder, too." The boy released Tommy's genitals. "Suck my dick, Dickless," he ordered contemputuouly. "Suck it good, pussy boy."

Tommy's own cock was throbbing and hard against his stomach. Without thinking, he reached down and grasped his own dick with his left hand and he reached for the boy's dick with his right. There was a loud crack of skin on skin, and Tommy snatched his hand back, stinging mightily from where the boy had slapped it. "No touching your baby dick, Dickless," the boy snapped. "This is about my pleasure, not yours. I catch you touching yourself down there again, I'll beat your balls with a ruler." The boy had smirked nastily. "I've had my own balls beaten with a ruler – you won't like it. I'm the only one who cums in my room," he said smugly. "You can jerk yourself off when you get home, and think about my cock when you do. Or you can have Wayne the Stain suck you off later. But not while you're my bitch."

Tommy hunched over the boy's dick, looking cross-eyed at the drop of precum filling the oval hole in the tip. He's making me do this, he thought to himself. Because I'm scum and I deserve it. I have to suck his dick, dick snot and all. And, his own dick throbbing with excitement, that's exactly what he did.

The boy's cock was different from having Chad's, or Elvin's, or Jesse's in his mouth. It was longer, so that the head reached all the way to the back of his tongue. And it tilted up, so that the knots of skin on the underside were more prominent in his mouth. And the kid had hair, and that hair tickled Tommy's nose each time he slurped the boy's dick all the way in (he'd decided to move his head up and down the boy's dick, and had found that to work better on his longer cock than on Jesse's or Chad's). But it was exciting, and the more degrading it was, the more his heart pounded and his dick throbbed.

Courtney was staring, aghast, at the people who'd just entered her house to join the throng of boys waiting to punish her. "Say hello to Emily and Mrs. Git," Courtney's mother ordered. "We couldn't possible begin without them. Emily has an important part to play in this, you know." She nodded at a figure in white emerging from the shadows. "I believe you also know The Reverend," she said.

"I'm afraid I can't stay," The Reverend said. "I've got to go advise a congregant concerning her errant son. I'll be back later to take custody of the young lady." And he silently slid out.

"All right, people," Courtney's mother said. "Let's get started. You boys all settle down comfortably on one of the chairs, so we can all see. Emily, I assume you'd prefer to stand," she said, looking pointedly at the still naked Emily and her still bare, blistered and striped butt. Purple bruises now covered it, and yellow tinges were appearing over the welted surface.

"She can't sit, anyway," said her mother. "She's still wearing the corrective harness, and I'm not taking it off unless absolutely necessary. I like the way it makes her compliant. She can wait by standing in the corner. She needn't see anything until her part in this," her mother said abruptly. Emily let herself be led shoved to the corner where Courtney had been standing, her mother guiding her with the handle of the discipline harness. She was moving stiffly and uncomfortably, but her eyes glared daggers at Chad and S. F. as she went. Her pain was obvious to all in the room. Serves her right, Jimmy and Chad thought simultaneously. Kind hearted S. F., though, felt a tug of sympathy.

"Now, Courtney," her mother said. "You will strip naked and stand in front of the boys and let them look at you as long as they want."

"MOTHER!" Courtney protested.

"Mother, nothing," her mother said. "Every person in this room has been stripped naked and punished because of things you did. You will experience every one of those punishments, just as those boys did. You can start with your top."

Courtney stared at her mother in horror. This couldn't be happening – it just couldn't! She couldn't be naked in front of these slavering, Neanderthal boys! She couldn't show her breasts, and her genitals, and her bottom, to slimy, disgusting, stinky boys! People who didn't even wash their hands after they peed! She felt like throwing up, and she found she couldn't move. Her hands and arms were too weak to do anything. She began hyperventilating.

Her mother lost patience. "If you won't take them off, I'll cut them off," she said. She turned to a table and obtained a large pair of dressmaker scissors, holding them up. "One way or the other, you will be naked."