The following story is fiction and is not meant to represent the sexuality of actors Scott Bairstow, Devon Sawa, or Jonathan Taylor Thomas. The story is derived from the copyrighted movie, Wild America, product of Warner Bros.
I
"Get outta here!" Marty said, jerking his chin up aggressively.
"Yeah! Fairies aren't allowed in hangers," Mark added.
Marshall glanced at the oily wrenches in their hands. If only he could club his brothers with the hammers on the wall behind them. "Oh, really," Marshall said, his blood starting to boil. "I might just quit sucking you guys. Maybe then you'll let me hang in here with you."
"You'll always be a cocksucker, no matter what you try to do to us," Marty said freshly.
"Or quit doing," the blond chuckled.
Marshall swallowed hard. "Maybe," the 13-year-old whispered. "But without me, you guys will have to suck each other because your girlfriends won't do it."
The mild trepidation on Mark's face infused Marshall with pleasure, and the tawny lad's wicked grin further aggrieved the middle brother.
"Don't believe him for a second," Marty said, returning to the wooden, bench table beside them. "Just give him a couple of days and you'll see."
"You think I'm that desperate?" Marshall said, no longer able to contain his hurt. "You bastard."
"What did you call me?" Marty said, straightening up swiftly from his stooping position.
For once, Marshall didn't fear being pummeled by Marty. In fact, he welcomed it! Maybe he had a death wish. Or, perhaps, he was testing his big brother's bravado. "I said you're a bastard," Marshall said flatly. A lump in his throat, he let a tear roll down his cheek.
"You take that back," Marty said, aiming his wrench at the pint-sized lad.
"I won't," Marshall said. "Psychologically, you've already killed me more times than I can remember--calling me names, using me to get your rocks off, pitting Mark against me so you can remain top dog." He sniffed. "Every day you treat me like a piece of crap, and I take it--hoping that someday, maybe, you two will like me enough to treat me as an equal. Who am I kidding?"
Through welling tears, his green eyes exuded heartbreak. But a sense of dignity returned to him, and he raised his head. "You guys are getting no more mouth from me--not now, not ever!"
With that, he marched toward the dimming field outside the hanger. He needed a plan to get back at his brothers. But what could he do?
II
The more the days passed, the more peeved Marshall's brothers became at him. Surely, their girlfriends had denied them sex repeatedly, for the guys began to drop cups and spoons around the dinner table, to fidget in their seats, and to pinch themselves inadvertently with the wrenches and shears in the hanger.
One night, both stormed into their second-story room and finding Marshall reading placidly on his bottom bunk, began to pull off their white shirts.
"What do you think you're doing?" Marshall said.
"What does it look like?" Marty said, unzipping his jeans.
The tawny kid leapt to the floor and rushed past him, but Mark prevented his escape to the door, which he had left half open.
Cornered inches from the white, hallway light, Marshall breathed, "You get any closer and I'll fucking rattle on you. I'll tell mom and dad everything you've done to me."
"You wouldn't," Marty said conceitedly.
"Try me," the lad said, a moon ray highlighting his piercing eyes.
"Come on, Marshall," the blond coaxed. "We'll do your homework."
"So my grades can slip?"
"We haven't been laid in weeks! If I don't get some sucking, my balls will fucking explode!" Fidgeting up and down, the blond grabbed his crotch as though on the verge of pissing himself. "We'll do anything! Your wish is our command."
Never had Marshall seen Mark so vulnerable, and this began to incite the 13-year-old. "You would never do what I have in mind."
"Tell us," the blond begged.
"No!" Marty said, whipping his index finger toward Mark. Then, he turned to Marshall. "You're our baby brother. You do what we tell you, got it?"
"I warn you," Marshall said shrilly. "Take one more step and I fucking yell rape."
"Mom isn't home."
"But she'll be back any minute--and wait till dad gets back tomorrow."
"What're you gonna do?" Marty challenged.
"Don't you wanna have fun with us?" Mark chimed in, a whiny desperation in his voice.
"I want respect. And if you guys are truly serious about treating me as an equal, you can start by lowering yourselves from your high estate."
"Anything," Mark said breathily, still grabbing his jeans in front.
"You two say you're lowlife worms, and I might warm up to further negotiation about tonight."
"Just tonight?" Mark said.
"I told you. I'm no longer your sexual punchbag."
Marty shook his head in discombobulated disbelief. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"
"In your words?" Marshall said dispassionately. "A hopeless whore who can't be replaced."
"O.K.!" Mark said. "I'm a lowlife worm."
Marshall shifted his stare to Marty, but the guy tightened his lips.
"Fine," the lad said, starting for the door.
"Hey!" Mark brayed. "I said I'm a lowlife worm!"
"You two have to say it," Marshall said, and not expecting big brother to relent, swiftly exited the room.
In the hall, he smiled to himself. Already, he could see Mark blaming Marty for his lack of cooperation. Pitting his brothers against each other had never felt so satisfying.
III
"Please!" Marty said over the platter of pancakes. "I need that favor."
Their 9-year-old sister grinned, and the contagion caused Marshall to chuckle.
"Asshole," Marty said, staring ferociously at the lad from across the table.
"Marty said a bad word," Aubrey said to their mother, but two minutes earlier, she had stepped outside the kitchen behind them.
"You're gonna pay for this."
"I'm shaking," the lad said, imitating with a high-pitched voice.
Marty slammed the wooden table, reached across, and yanked his brother's khaki, silk collar. "You think you're cute, don't you?" Marty said, an inch from the urchin's face. "Well, I can break you anytime."
"Get your straight hands off me," Marshall said.
"Mom will be here any second!" Mark exclaimed.
Marty shaking himself free of Marshall's collar, he sent the lad landing on the floor.
"Mom!" Aubrey shrieked, and the brothers rose quickly and left the kitchen from behind them.
Marshall legs up on the floor, the long, silky-haired blonde caressed his forehead. "You alright?"
"Yeah," Marshall said. "Those bastards are just itching down below. Remember what we talked about?"
"And what I witnessed them doing to you," she said, then covered her mouth to the screen door behind them.
"They're not doing that to me now." He rolled aside.
"I wish you could get back at them."
"Me too," he said, getting up. "But that's a pipe dream." He brushed off his silk, black pants.
Her normally shy face showed pensive pity as her eyes drifted toward the floor. "Follow me," she said, suddenly leading him by the hand.
Like a tow truck, she tugged him across the side of the wooden house, opened the door of a parallel structure, and led him inside.
The low construction was an outside toilet, but inside, there was enough room for a stack of hay, where she pointed for Marshall to sit as she settled atop the toilet lid.
"Close that door," she said, then began unzipping the back of her flower-printed dress.
"What are you doing?"
"I hate to see them--how did you put it--banging you, especially when you can't return the favor." She maneuvered her shoulders around a strap and wiggled outside the dress. "You deserve better."
"Sis," Marshall said, his voice wavering. "I'm . . . I'm . . . I'm g--"
Her flat-breasted chest exposed, she pushed down her dress, exposing her soft, white panties.
"I don't like girls that way," Marhsall said, but her soft, white skin brought him a mild tumescence.
"Go on," she coaxed. "Touch it."
"I like guys."
She scowled. "Don't you like me?"
"Yeah! But I can't touch you."
"I'm giving you what your brothers won't," she said with a chilling certitude in her voice.
"You're only nine!" Marshall said.
"But you and I are so alike. We play together when our brothers aren't around, we help each other with homework, we hang out together."
Marshall sighed in frustration, turning toward the sunlight that penetrated the box hole atop the cinderblock wall. "You're my sister!" he said, turning back to her. "We can't play like this?"
"Why not? You do it with Marty and Mark."
"There are things that brothers are allowed to do--or, at least, society doesn't frown on them as much as doing those same things with your sister."
She began to rub over her flowerprinted underwear, and as Marshall's erection intensified, he began to feel a strange link to his brothers. This alone slowly melted his defenses.
"What do you want?" he said.
"Take them off."
The power he was feeling! He was capable of digging chicks--just like his brothers! He proceeded toward her, knelt on the soft floor, and pulled down her panties.
The cleat exposed, he eyed its every nuance--it's lips, curbs, moistness, whiteness, and overall lusciousness.
"Go on," she said. "Touch it."
The skin electrified his fingers upon contact, and their penetration of her vagina infused him with energy.
Never had he imagined that he would feel--be--like his brothers. The implications terrified him, but the fresh feelings were too important to pass up.
Then, something inside her prevented his proceeding any further. It feeling like some membrane, he slowly pulled out.
"Go on," she coaxed. "I've learned all about it in class."
"Your hymen?" Marshall said, laughing nervously.
"Uh-huh!"
"I think we better continue another time. Mom's around and she'll be soon wondering about us."
She nodded, but with their exchange of glances, they communicated that they would proceed later.
IV
A week later, Marshall was certain that his brothers would do something drastic. After all, that was their nature--not to wait helplessly for fate, or worse, for Marshall, to decide their fortune. A part of him felt thrilled at the prospect of his brothers forcing themselves--once again--on him, but he had threatened to tell their mother. Furthermore, reneging his pledge not to suck them again would hamper his credibility before his brothers.
He spotted the moonlit field as he neared the ranch. Surely, he thought, his brothers must be in the barn, for why else was the light on at 10:30 p.m.? Besides, mother had threatened to tell their father had they ventured into town that late. Of course, an emergency had required their mother to drive to Little Rock, but as far as his brothers were concerned, they expecting her home within the next 30 minutes.
Fear descended on him, as he knew his brothers were mighty mad at him. Who knew what they were planning?
Silently, he trotted toward the barn, and soon, he heard whispers coming from inside.
"I'm horny, man," Marty said.
The lad tiptoed to the entrance, then peeked inside.
His brothers were sitting on a haystack, wearing their usual blue jeans and white t-shirts.
"I'm horny too," Mark said. "But I can't . . . suck you."
"Alright!" Marty groaned. "I'll suck you! Heck, I'll even swallow your spunk." He paused for emphasis. "But I gotta have your ass."
Marshall raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Was he hallucinating?
"You must be joking," the blond said.
"I'm serious," Marty said casually. "I'll apply some of that stuff we use when fucking Marshall. You won't feel a thing."
"You have a 9-inch dick!"
"So you've been checking me out."
"Whenever Marshall has sucked you, yeah!" Mark said.
"Marshall can take both of us, and he's a third shorter than you. Surely, you can too."
Mark shook his head.
"Isn't my swallowing your spunk enough?"
"No! Not for giving you my ass." The lanky blond resumed moving his eyes. "Can't we get Marshall to forgive us--you--for treating him so badly?"
"That piece of lard," Marty spittled. "I think we should grab him and--" He clawed his fingers for emphasis. "If he weren't out, I'd go and fuck him right now."
Marshall felt a tinge in his pants.
The blond took a deep breath. "You swallow my spunk . . . and I swallow yours," he said with great difficulty.
"I need pussy, man! And your dirty butt's the next best thing."
"Fine!" Mark said, grabbing his aching crotch. "I fuck you first, and then you can have my ass."
"I can't let you fuck me."
"Why not?" the blond said, scowling.
"Because you're my middle brother."
What a jerk! Marshall thought to himself.
"Please!" Marty said, kneeling before him. "I'll do anything you want outside this barn. Do your homework, kiss your feet, you name it.
All except--"
Mark smiled amusedly. "It would be fun to feel you kiss my feet."
"Is that enough kick for you?"
"Yeah!" he finally said. "But you better swallow my spunk. Every drop."
"Take off your sneakers, then," Marty said, taking off his shirt.
Their chest muscles exposed, Marshall pulled the area around his zipper. If only Marty's camera hadn't broken.
"O.K. I've kissed your feet, now get your jeans off."
"I'm wearing socks," Mark said. "You must kiss my feet."
"You fucker," Marty said. "Get them off."
"You do it," Mark said seductively.
"Shit!"
"Aaaah!" the blond sighed, throwing back his head.
This was more inciting that anything Marshall had ever seen! Heck, he even forgot he was present in the barn--eight feet from his brothers.
"Now the other," Marty said.
"No need to rush things," Mark said, his voice somehow different.
"You're really getting a kick out of this."
"Of course!"
Marty pulled off the other white, cotton sock and pressed his lips under the foot. Watching macho brother kneeling under Mark drove Marshall insane! Had he not controlled his emotions, he would have flung himself at Marty and pulled down those tight sexy jeans from behind.
"Done! Now give me your pecker."
Mark was totally erect! And so far, he had not thought about girls--at least, to all appearances. "Don't use your teeth," the blond said, pushing Marty's head away.
"Hey! I'm no cocksucker, so you'll have to bear with me." Again, he lowered his head and proceeded on his knees.
"That's better," Mark said, his cracking voice further inciting Marshall. He brought his hands to Marty's head and started caressing his brother's short, brown hair. "Deeper."
Marty pulled back. "Don't get too demanding," he said, looking up at him with a faint smile in his eyes. "You'll need Marshall for that."
"Fine! Just suck faster so I can cum."
Marty lingered his stare on purpose, trying to convey some message to Mark. Again, he lowered his head, grabbing Mark's legs for support.
"Faster, man! And don't use your teeth."
Seeing Marty and Mark like this sent shock waves through Marshall's body, as he had never seen anything so captivating.
"I'm gonna cum!" Mark said. "Just . . . keep . . . moving . . . up and down my shaft. Holy shittttttttt! Aaaaaaaaarrrrhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
The milk began to roll down the side of Marty's mouth, even as he swallowed three times.
"Yeaaaaahhhhh!"
Swallowing two more times, Marty started to cough, but Mark kept cumming one . . . two . . . four . . . six more times before collapsing on the hay stacks behind him.
Marshall stopped breathing, but as soon as Marty regained his breath, his heart kicked his lungs back into gear.
"Scoot over," Marty said, unzipping his jeans.
"Where's the Vaseline?" the blond said.
"Shit! Where the fuck's that hole where Marshall keeps it?"
"By that corner."
Almost falling, Marty ran to the spot, the ensuing silence scaring Marshall. Would Marty hear Marshall breathing?
Luckily, Marty returned in twenty seconds. "Turn over," he said, pulled down the blond's jeans and white briefs from behind, and applied the jelly.
"Slowly insert a finger," Mark instructed his brother. "Now two, but real slow."
That skinny, muscular butt exposed so lusciously, Marty grabbed his briefs along the waistband, pushed down, and their jeans barely a third down, he penetrated his brother from behind.
"Easy!" Mark yelped.
"I'm fucking gonna explode! What do you expect?"
He began to pump, his chest caressing Mark's bare back with each thrust.
If only Marshall could pull down Marty's briefs from behind and fuck him too. He would have to do something radical to manipulate them into giving him their butts. But what?
Marshall could tell that Mark was cringing underneath, but the more Marty pumped, the less the blond bit his lower lip.
"Fuck!" Mark breathed, the thrusting quickly bringing him to a breaking point.
"You like it?" Marty said, smiling wickedly. "Well, see if you can take this."
Gneading Mark's limber legs, he pumped harder and faster. "Man!" he said. "You have one fucking butt! You know that?"
"Just get it over with," Mark said, his tone indicating that he was beginning to fear his enjoyment of Marty's cock.
"I'm coming! Shitttt!" His body convulsed. "Maaaaaaan! Uuuuurgghhhhhhhh! Fuccckkkkkkkkkk!" Cum dripped from Mark's rear end to the hay as Marty kept convulsing uncontrollably. At last, he collapsed on his brother.