The following story is fiction and does not necessarily represent the sexuality of actors Zachery Ty Bryan, Jonathan Taylor Thomas, or Taran Noah Smith. The main characters are based on Home Improvement's Brad Taylor, Randy Taylor, and Mark Taylor (as played by Zachery Ty Bryan, Jonathan Taylor Thomas, and Taran Noah Smith, respectively).
Home Improvement is produced by ABC Television (last time I checked) and currently runs on syndication. No copyright infringement is intended by the following tale, and NO MONEY is being made from this story. It is just a product of a highly creative imagination.
In April 2002, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that texts (including fiction) portraying minors in sexual situations are LEGAL, as long as no actual minors are used in the production of the material. Therefore, this court ruling overturned earlier legislation as unconstitutional.
"Have you seen my Superman?" Mark said, walking into his brothers' second-story bedroom.
Their backs toward him, Brad and Randy continued to skim over something on the study, 13-year-old Brad leaning forward on his brother's swivel chair and 11-year-old Randy standing to his right.
"Are those for real?" Brad said, glancing at his brother.
"Nah! Those must be implants," Randy said smart-alecky.
"What are you guys doing?" 9-year-old Mark said, stepping further into the fluorescent room.
Brad and Randy turned like startled rabbits!
"Didn't I tell you to stay out of our room?" Brad grated, his eyes hurling slingshots at him.
"But I can't find my Superman," Mark whimpered.
His brothers exchanged a knowing glance, and grinning impishly, Randy turned the rest of the way, leaned back, and said, "I'm afraid your Superman flew away this afternoon. You see, he found this woman."
"Wonderwoman!" Brad interjected, goggle-eyed.
"Yeah," Randy said, nodding with pleasure. "I'm afraid she whisked him off to her flat in Washington, DC, where she lives, and--"
"And what?" Mark said, the lump on his throat audible.
Again, Brad and Randy looked at each other.
"I don't think you wanna know," Randy said.
"Why not?" Mark whined.
"How should I put it?"
"You're too young to understand," Brad chimed in.
"That's right!" Randy said, lifting a finger.
"Am not."
"Are, too," Brad said, Randy approaching the 9-year-old.
"I'm afraid you'll have to sit this one out until you turn 13," Randy said, patting Mark's shoulder.
"I'll do anything," Mark said.
Randy turned to Brad and winked at him. "What do you say, Brad?"
"If we tell you, you must swear never to tell anyone--especially mom and dad."
"My lips are sealed," Mark said, making the hand motions.
"Close that door, then," Randy said, sashaying back to the study.
"But mom and dad are at that Binford party."
"I know, but this is serious," Randy said, turning toward him. "And I mean drop-dead serious."
"Well, tell me," Mark said, returning from the panel door that he had shut.
"You see, when Superman met Wonderwoman, he fell for her," Randy began. "The Master of the Universe found her incredibly attractive, and she liked him, too. A lot!"
"When did they meet?" Mark said naively.
"Three days ago!" Brad exclaimed. "In this very room."
"Yeah," Randy said, nodding in rhythm. "Anyway, the two being in love, they wanted to share their feelings for each other."
"How did they do that?" Mark said, his face contorting in confusion.
"That's the part you're too young to understand."
"Tell me! I need to know if I can get him back!"
Brad and Randy almost burst into giggles, but that would have ended their game.
"I'm telling you," Randy said, shaking his head in confoundment, while Brad covered his about-to-erupt grin in seemingly equal gravity. "It's hard to believe."
"What!" Mark hollered, stepping forward in his yellow pajamas.
"You see, when two people love each other, they want to get close. Real close. The man puts his . . . thing . . . in the woman's vagina, and that makes him feel real good."
A snicker escaped Brad, who had to hold his breath to keep from laughing.
"And?" Mark said, the fright in his eyes enough to cause Randy to lower his chin to avoid revealing the faint smirk on his face.
"What Superman didn't realize is that sometimes, toothed vaginas snip off men's pee-pees."
Brad lost it! Stamping his foot on the rug, he almost fell off his chair cackling.
"This is serious," Randy said, determined to keep the game going. "Just ignore him, as he obviously must channel his fear through laughter."
"I'm sorry," Brad said, sitting back up. "I just have a really hard time imagining this thing you described."
"Well, nobody has photographed a toothed vagina, as the lethal fang always stays inside, where the damage occurs."
"Then, how do you know that these vaginas exist?" Mark said, tempting Brad to laugh again.
"I saw it on the Biology Channel," Randy said, crossing his arms smugly beside Brad.
"They don't show vaginas on TV," Mark said warily.
"You're right! But they report on them."
"On that show," Brad clarified. "The verbal stuff, that is."
"The pictorial stuff," Randy continued, "men have to see somewhere else."
"Like this magazine," Brad said, picking it up from behind him.
"But you said that nobody has ever photographed toothed vaginas," Mark said, scowling at the glossy magazine.
"True," Randy said. "But we have to go on what's available, as that's better than nothing. So we skim over magazines like this to see, at least, what vaginas look like on the outside."
From Mark's expression, Randy knew that his sissy brother didn't want to get anywhere near that magazine. Therefore, he snatched the Playguy from Brad's hand, extended it to Mark, and smiled enticingly.
"Get that away from me!" Mark screamed, running for the door.
"Not all vaginas bite," Randy hollered, picking up the magazine as Mark swung open the door.
"Yes, they do!" he said, turning toward his brothers from the hallway.
"Leave him alone," Brad said, and Randy dropped the smut on the study behind them.
"Girls are dangerous," Mark said conclusively.
"Yes, they can be," Randy said, glad to solidify the fledgling gayness in his brother.
"Why, then, do you date them?" Mark said, looking at Brad.
"Because they are pretty," Brad said. "But this toothed-vagina business has me worried." Turning to Randy, he made a pitiful face, and his brother reciprocated with his own.
"What are you gonna do?" Mark said, approaching his brothers but remaining afar.
"I don't know," Brad said, lowering his chin melancholically. "Mom and dad expect me to start dating chicks, and I don't want to let either down."
"I pity you, bro," Randy said, patting Brad on the shoulder. "For your hormones must be pushing your willy toward some outlet."
"Yeah, but not toothed vaginas!" Brad said, wiping invisible tears.
"I guess we have to think of other outlets," Randy said, scratching his round head.
Both boys looking intently at him, Randy paced under the room's indented lights. The stillness of the house intensified with each step, and the blackness outside the glass windows accentuated the silence.
Randy parted, then froze his lips, in deep thought.
"What!" Brad said, his hazel eyes fixed on him.
"Nah," the 11-year-old said. "It's too crazy."
"Tell me!"
"Well," Randy said, strolling anew. "At school, some boys talk about cornholing each other."
Brad's head quaked in puzzlement.
"That means they practice boy-girl intimacy on each other, so that when they turn 13, they are ready for the vagaries of sex with girls."
"Is that what we used to do?" Brad said excitedly.
"Not exactly," Randy said. "What we did is called dry humping. Cornholing involves--"
"Damn it, Randy! Tell me!"
The tawny-faced guy suddenly frowned at him, as Brad wasn't supposed to be such an expert at the art of drama. That was Randy's territory, and for once, he no longer knew if Brad was serious, or if he was simply outstretching his performance.
Grinning mildly for the purpose of effect, Randy continued, "Cornholing is when a boy puts his peter in another boy's behind. They make out like boy and girl and practice, like a simulation, for the real thing."
"Wow," Brad said breathlessly, his eyes lost in fascination. "Can we try?"
Mark starting to inch back, Randy's heart began to beat fast, as Brad and he had the boy exactly where they wanted.
"Are you alright?" Randy said, eyeing the 9-year-old. "You look pale."
"I think I better leave," Mark mumbled.
"But I thought you loved Superman," Randy said, lame concern on his supple face.
"I do."
"Then, surely you want to see what led to his demise, especially as the same may happen to you and Brad, should either turn to girls."
"But you and Brad are guys!" Mark exclaimed.
"We're brothers, and we must practice," Randy said. "To make us experienced--like those boys at school--at unleashing our urges, and to prevent saber-toothed vaginas from ripping our dicks apart."
A snigger escaping him, Brad dropped his face to his knee. Luckily, the urge to laugh left when Randy took his right hand and started kissing it.
"Aah!" Brad exhaled as Randy moved his smooching lips up his strong, bare arm.
"Stop it," Mark whined, but Brad pulled off his yellow T-shirt.
"My love," Randy purred, his swarthy hand landing on the white, muscular chest.
"Uuh," Brad moaned as Randy smacked his lips over his left, dime-sized areola. When Randy started to suck the nipple, the blond threw his head back in pleasure.
"I'm telling mom and dad if you don't stop!" Mark wailed.
"Do you want your brother's dong to be eaten?" Randy said, turning right way to Mark.
"No," he muttered.
"Then, Brad and I must help each other. Brothers do that."
Randy pulled off his green sweater, unbuttoned his beige shirt, and dove back into Brad's muscled pecs. The two began to grope each other's arms and backs and shoulders, amazed that physically strong guys like them could have such suave skin. Not that they hadn't touched before, but last time that they "dry humped," each brother was early in his preteens. Now, by contrast, their touching intoxicated them in a way that they could have never imagined, and Mark's discomfort only heightened their pleasure.
"I'm telling mom and dad," Mark said, discreetly covering his pecker.
Again, Randy turned sideways toward him. "So you don't care about your brother," he said, straightening himself.
Doe-eyed, Mark stared at him.
"You don't care if he has to diddle a girl cold turkey." Randy kept nearing the blond boy. "That's not very brotherly of you, is it?"
"You are boys," Mark said. "I don't understand how you could be acting like this."
"We're brothers," Randy said, extending his left arm in Brad's direction. "And true brothers love each other." He placed his arm on Brad's shoulder.
"Not that way," Mark said, his eyes watery.
"Yes, they do."
"Let him go," Brad said with pity.
"Right," Randy said. "You tattle on us, however, and we tell mom and dad that you tried to make out with us, against our wishes."
Mark spun abruptly, ran out the room, and disappeared down the hall.
Randy shutting the door, he turned to Brad; and the two collapsed on each other, snickering uncontrollably. So far, this was the best stunt that they had pulled on Mark--and they had not even rehearsed!
Sighing in catharsis, they looked at each other, understanding that they would expand on that night's joke upon their next encounter with Mark.