He started towards me, ready to swing, but my gloves were faster–they went right to his massive tits and tugged on them, and the blast of pleasure scattered every thought of hurting me, and he just stood there, jaw slack, eyes distant, groaning as I twisted and tugged at his nipples, growing them until each was larger and meatier than the puny cock between his legs. I grabbed each of his hands and brought them to his tits–he started playing with them of his own will now, no longer even thinking of violence–no, my brother would look like a brute, but violence, from now on, would be the furthest thought from his mind. I had him bend over, face pressed to the wall of his trailer, ass out, and I slid the first two fingers of one gloved hand into his hole.
I’d needed that fuck–I’d needed to get it out of the way, so I could get to the real task at hand. Two fingers, then three, and then my whole glove fist slid into him, my brother moaning and howling in pain, but he wanted it–he wanted it more than he could even understand, and with my hand in him, I could find his prostate, and I began milking it, swelling it larger, until it went from the size of a golf ball, and became an orange, throbbing inside him, and the first orgasm ripped through his body. He cried and hollered in a deep voice, but just a few dribbles of cum fell from the tiny cock he now had. The orgasm itself, however, lasted for nearly a minute, and by the end of it he was sweating and shaking, his legs giving out as he slid down further onto my forearm, my other hand eager to join in, and slowly, I stretched his hole even further, until both of my gloves were inside him, pleasing him, his mind going numb from pleasure and desire, forcing him to have orgasm after wracking orgasm, until he collapsed to the floor, quivering, pale, and panting, begging and mewling, though I couldn’t tell if he was asking me to stop, or if he was asking for more. I doubt he even really knew what he wanted himself. Still, I figured he wouldn’t try anything for a few minutes, and I went back to my car, dug around for his presents, and went back inside the trailer, where he still hadn’t recovered.
“Alright Kyle,” I said, “I’m going to be sleeping here tonight, just to keep an eye on you, until we can finish you off tomorrow. I’ll be taking the bed of course–a beast like you will be plenty comfortable on the floor, won’t you?”
“F-fuck…” he muttered, and tried to push himself up as best he could, but could only really manage to get to his knees, where he looked at me. He was trying to be angry–he really was. It was only his natural reaction, after all, but I was breaking him of that, slowly. Instead, I could see something else, a dullness to his eyes, a hunger there as well. “How…the fuck did you…fuck…”
“Don’t worry so much, bro,” I said, walking over to him, one glove rubbing his head, the hair there falling away until it was a smooth dome, the other hand gripping his jaw, thick stubble sprouting into a full, wiry beard a second later. His face shifted too, slightly–not so much as to make him unrecognizable, but his brow thickened, his mouth widened, his eyes sunk slightly and his nose and ears both expanded. “You won’t have to worry about much going forward. Your only concern is going to be finding enough cock for that ass and throat of yours, and finding enough men to abuse you to make that little cock of yours spurt. But that’s for later–for now…for now, I need you here, with me. For one night, I want my brother in there, worshiping me, serving me, hanging on my every word, begging for my cock, begging for whatever sort of abuse I might feel like giving you.” My hands were tightening on his skull now, worming into his thoughts, “I want you to want me to hurt you. I want you to want all of the abuse you’ve given me over the years. I want you to want to suffer–it’ll be more fun that way, trust me.”
I walked over to the duffel bag I’d brought in with me, unzipped it, turned it over, and let the contents fall to the floor in front of him. Massive dildos, tit clamps, candles, cigars, a humbler, handcuffs, rope, flogger, whip, and plenty else for us to play with. His eyes latched onto the largest dildo of all, right away–a black rubber replica of a fist and forearm, at least two feet long. He tore his eyes away and up to mine, both terrified and desperate.
“You want that in you, don’t you, you fucking slut?”
All he could do was nod.
“Well go on then. I know how that ass of yours gets, when you haven’t been punchfucked in a few minutes. Then we’ll introduce you to your other new friends.”
Bracken's Corner 