Copyright 2005 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.
Please note: the twelve parts of this story depict sex between males, between minors and between adults and minors. They depict oral, anal and vaginal sex as well as incest, rape, sadomasochism and transvestitism. If any of these offend you or are illegal to publish in your jurisdiction, or you are under the age of 18, read no further.
All names, characters, locations and incidents in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
Background - The preparation years
My name is Frank. At least that's what I wanted people to call me. Mom and Dad both called me Francis, and so do most of my teachers. I was named for Mom's sister, Aunt Frances. Both Mom and Dad were expecting a girl, -- wanted a girl, -- when out came this runty little thing with its teeny dick. Mom didn't give up, though. All my baby pictures show me wearing frilly lacey clothes. I didn't get my blond locks cut until I was three. In the early grades, Mom had me help her in the kitchen. I thought cooking was fun, and never minded wearing one of Mom's flowery aprons. When I got older, she taught me to sew and iron. Beyond that, she'd often just sit with me at the kitchen table for some girl talk.
I was always a runty kid. Usually the shortest boy in my class. I had blond hair and blue eyes. I wasn't fat, except for one part: my big fat ass.
Three years (well, almost four) later, along came Keith. He was a big bouncing tiger of a kid. He was always claiming my toys even though he received plenty of his own. Our parents tolerated a lot from him. "How's my little man today?" Dad would ask him. He never called me his little man. When Keith started kindergarten, I was told to watch out for him on the bus. Like he really needed any protection. Even then, he could whip any kid his own age, and many older ones, including me. Even so, when Mom and Dad would go out in the evening to visit friends, I was supposed to be the baby sitter.
We lived in a big four-bedroom colonial, but soon after Keith was born, Dad moved out of Mom's bedroom into his own down the hall. Mom said they needed to keep the guest room, so Keith and I had to share a bedroom. Dad told us we could use the basement as a playroom, because neither of my parents ever went down there. Keith was often allowed to have friends come for a sleepover. I had never had any friends who would have wanted to spend a night with me. When Keith's friends came over, they joined him in teasing his older brother. He loved to show them how he could wrestle me to the floor. He also told them to look at my toys and said, "Take whatever ones you want." Of course, I would cry and then Keith and his friends would laugh at me and call me a big crybaby.
Dad often took Keith out on Saturdays, leaving me with Mom for some "quality time." Keith would come back with stories about hitting baseballs in the park, watching the monkeys at the zoo, going to a football game, or wherever. Then I would show him the cake Mom and I baked together.
Keith was always a smart kid. He learned quickly. In fifth grade he took a book out of the library on hypnotism, and we soon discovered he could put me under very easily. Apparently I was easily suggestible. Now when Svengali had his friends over to our house, he had a new way to humiliate me in front of them. I didn't remember anything when he snapped me back awake, but apparently I had done a lot of duck quacking, nose picking, and masturbating in front of them. One time, they told me to sniff my finger. It smelled like shit. I never fould out whose ass it had probed; maybe my own, even though I was fully clothed when I came to. Later, though, when I became his slave, his toady, the hypnotism sessions stopped. Keith got more sadistic pleasure from seeing me obey him while fully awake, fully aware of my humiliation.
The puberty fairy took a long time getting to our house. I think she was trying to save herself an extra trip, because by the time I first showed signs of pubescence, Keith was already doing the same. At ten, his voice dropped an octave, he got hairy armpits, and a really nice black bush over his dick. As a blond, my own body hair was practically invisible, and my soft wimpy voice still sounded like a child's. We both discovered the great pleasures of jacking off, and Keith insisted that I watch his explosive ejaculations; my cum loads never equalled his in size or distance.
Early on in grade school, the girls had found Keith attractive. Some of them would hang around our house on weekends just to watch Keith practice shooting baskets. By the time he was in sixth grade, he had a muscular body, a handsome face, and a circle of girlfriends. He was very precocious. In the summer, we spent a lot of time at the town pool. Keith always had four or five girls hanging around him. He called them his bitch circle. They would run errands for him, buy him cokes and franks, put suntan lotion on his back, and generally kowtow to his every wish. His boy friends liked to hang around us, too, hoping to learn how to develop this power Keith had over women. I'm not sure when he lost his virginity, but it was certainly while he was still in grade school.
The summer after sixth grade, there was a new girl vying for Keith's attention. The bitch pup as Keith called her had to earn her way into the circle. He sent her on all kinds of menial errands, bringing him his towel when he got out of the pool, rubbing his feet, distracting one of the attendants while Keith stole cokes from the concession stand. If she wasn't busy, she had to sit a little separate from Keith and the circle. The other boys would practice by giving orders to the bitch pup, and if Keith nodded, she would obey and bring them a rubber ball or buy them hot dogs. The other girls called her the bitch pup, also. But she was so hungry for Keith's approval, that she put up with all the humiliation. Of course, I was not allowed to give her any orders, and I didn't really want to anyway.
One time, Keith was discussing tits with the circle. A favorite subject. He called out "wall." This was a code word for his bitch circle, the boys and me too to stand close together in a ring forming a wall so that other prying eyes couldn't see what was happening in the center. Keith put the bitch pup in the center and told her to let down her bathing suit and let everyone see her tits. She turned fourteen shades of red, but didn't hesitate. As they all laughed, she exposed her little boobs and turned around so all of us could see what she had. About two weeks later, Jimmy admitted to Keith that he had never been blown, a bold admission for a pubescent boy. Keith said, "Jimmy, I can't have a virgin hanging around me, it's bad for my reputation. Let's take care of this right now." Then he called "wall" and we all stood and watched the bitch pup suck Jimmy's cock.
My brother's behavior disgusted, yet fascinated, me. What was it that made these pre-teenage girls humiliate themselves for my brother? They seemed to worship him. They couldn't do enough to make him happy. They didn't care if anyone made fun of them as long as Keith accepted them into his circle. Keith told the other boys that they needed to cunt-trol their women.
Nearly a year later, here I was doing my little brother's chores, serving him like a toad. And then he used that word again. Ahh, now it all made sense. Keith had me under his cunt-trol just like his circle of bitches. I knew I wanted to serve him, to worship him, to make him happy. I knew he was going to humiliate me in front of others, and I knew I was going to do whatever he told me. I realized then that this summer I would be his bitch pup, and in fact I would always be his bitch pup, because I knew I would never be a real part of his circle.