Mr. Morris (Part 4)
The amulet. Grandpa’s amulet. He’d promised me that he’d give it to me, and there it was hanging around my brother’s neck. I was angry for a moment, but then he started talking to me in that same way Grandpa always talks to me…and I calmed down, but I still fought him. I told him that the amulet wasn’t his, that I knew he’d stolen it, that Grandpa had planned on giving it to me, and he laughed. He told me Grandpa had given it to him–that Grandpa had always planned on giving it to him. He said, “Why in the world would he give it to you? You know he thinks you’re just a stupid pig slut.”
And then, right then, there was a seed of doubt. I had these memories, but there were these other ones too, ones I couldn’t quite sort out. I could remember Mr. Morris, I could remember Grandpa how I’d always known him but there was also someone else, someone…very, very different. I refused to believe what my head was telling me, but I started to get dressed. I had to go see him, I had to talk to him and see for myself. My brother thought that was a fine idea–and suggested we both go over together. We snuck out of the house, and I drove us both over to the senior living, went up to Grandpa’s apartment.
The place was a filthy. Before, it had been spotless, but now…now the entire place was littered with trash, and there was a foul odor in the air…the same odor I’d smelled around Grandpa all my life. My old memories were retreating, these new ones were coming forward. I already knew what I’d find in the recliner, slouching in front of the television, but I had to see it for myself. He glowered at me when I entered the room–he’d always despised me, and I’d never known why. He loved my brother though–my slobby, failure of a brother–and why not? Grandpa was a drunk, a smoker, massively obese. He’d never taken care of himself all his life. His hair was matted with sweat, and I don’t think he ever showered, but the worst part was the diapers. He’d been incontinent for years now, and he never changed the ones he was wearing regularly, so he stank like an overflowing toilet all day.
I was furious. My brother had done this to him, to my Grandpa, he’d fucking ruined him, but instead of yelling, and getting angry, I was stripping off my clothes. I was getting down on my hands and knees in front of Grandpa, and he was laughing with that cigar stuck in his mouth, that cackle-wheeze, and my brother was behind me sliding a finger into my hole, telling me that he’d always hated me, hated me for the attention I got from our parents, hated me because everyone wanted my ass, hated me because I was smart and perfect, and that it was past time I’d taken my proper place in this family. I then I heard a dull thwack, and my brother crumpled to the ground, Grandpa standing up from his recliner with a lamp in has hand, huffing and puffing.
As quick as I could, I got the amulet off from my brother’s back. Grandpa told me how he’d attacked him that afternoon, stealing the amulet and fucking him into the filthy slob standing before me. But it hadn’t worked as well as my brother had thought it would, because the amulet can only be used to it’s fullest if it is given, not taken. And so grandpa gave it to me, and when my brother woke up…well…let’s just say I fucked him right in the head. He’s a dumb, stupid pig, but I wasn’t as cruel as the amulet would have liked. It has…quite the mind of its own, but as long as you’re ready for it, it isn’t too much of a problem. My brother spends his days now living at home, serving my father, and then he goes to the senior center and he serves the men there. All of them. He pays special attention to Grandpa of course, but his ass and mouth are available to anyone over the age of fifty-five, and I…well, I went off to college, the amulet still hanging around my neck. I did my best to help grandpa get back to how he was, but the amulet really doesn’t like reversing anything it’s already done. He still has to wear diapers, but he takes it in stride at least–though I think he might rub them in my brother’s face when I’m not around, as punishment. At least, I think that’s something the amulet might have snuck in while I was fucking my brother, but I never really felt like asking for details.
Grandpa made me promise that I wouldn’t use it while I was at school, and so far, after a month, I haven’t. That certainly doesn’t mean that I don’t want to. I have no problem getting cock, of course–pretty much anyone will drop their pants at a word, and all of my professors love me, and my mouth, and my ass, to bits. I just have a way with those older, burly bears, you know? But to be honest, I’m starting to think that what my grandpa doesn’t know, probably wouldn’t hurt him. And I have this guy on my floor–fuck, he’s so damn hot. Huge cock, and he lets me suck him off, but he’s a bit of an asshole, you know? I’m thinking he might need a bit of an attitude adjustment. Just some light conversation is all, nothing extreme. And maybe, if the feeling’s right…well, what’s the harm in one good fuck and a few changes to go with it? I’m sure I can keep everything under control just fine.