u/Cormac_McGirthy

My heartbeat is slow and steady as I read the house number on the mailbox. 321 Cherrywood Circle. Steve's house. I pause to tie my shoe and take a little glance at the house. Little Stevie did good for himself - it's a McMansion if I ever saw one. Three car garage and yet there's still a car parked in the driveway. Fenced off backyard, but I can see the pool through the open gate.

Asshole.

Twenty years ago, Steve and I were best friends. Close as brothers. Partners in crime. My cousin got us coke by the kilo, and we sold it one baggie at a time to the frat bros in their popped collars at a 300% markup. Funded ourselves through the first three years of our degrees that way. Two kids from the wrong side of the tracks, not being stupid with our money, no muscle cars or noisy parties, just selling enough to get us through school debt-free.

I still don't know how the cops caught us. But I know how they got a conviction. Stevie, that damn dirty little rat, sold me down the river. Took a plea deal. No jail time, no record, just a misdemeanor charge and eight months probation. Me? I got twenty years. Out in eighteen for "good behavior". I was in almost as long as I was free. Nearly a lifetime wasted away behind concrete and barbed wire. It's about time I set that right.

The front door opens and I rise to my feet, continuing my casual jog. I shouldn't risk a look, on the off hand Steve recognizes me despite the years that have passed, but I can't help myself. It's him. Still a twink but his blonde hair has gone to grey. Not that I can criticize - I shave what hasn't fallen off on its own. He still can't grow a beard for shit.

He looks right at me. Our eyes meet for a moment. He holds up a hand in a neighborly wave and I offer him a nod and a wave of my own as I head on my way. He has no clue who I am! I've always been tall, but I was thin back then. The drugs helped with that. I bulked out in prison, mostly muscle but not all of it. No more long black hair and smooth chin, now it's the other way around. I'm whole new person. And he's still just Steve.

Unlike me, he hasn't been alone. I hear a woman's voice join his in quiet conversation as they walk to their car. She laughs patiently, like he's just told her the same joke for the hundredth time. Then I hear something more interesting. "Come on, son! We're going to be late for orientation," he yells to someone still inside the house. I glance over my shoulder in time to see you step out, still yawning in the early morning lgiht, and my heart immediately starts beating faster.

You won the genetic lottery, the best parts of your mom and dad's physique rolled into one tight body. I heard that Steve's girlfriend was pregnant, that was why he took the plea deal, but I still have to double check my math. Eighteen years, plus the pre-trial holding period, plus the actual trial duration... shit. You're about to start your freshman year at our old alma mater, if your T-shirt is anything to go by.

I turn back around and continue on my jog, but my plans have changed entirely. I never really wanted to kill Steve, I just wanted to ruin his life like he ruined mine. Now I know a better way. He had a chance to live his life, to get married and have kids and a career and a house. I can never take that time from him. But I can take it from his son. Take him, fuck him, break him, send the videos to Steve. Turn his son into a slave, into a broken set of holes with no greater purpose in life than sucking and fucking.

It'll take some planning, but I have nothing but time on my hands.

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Kinks: Noncon, abduction, bondage, D/s, sadism, virgins, training, orgasm control, & more

Limits: death, gore, scat, puke, hyper sizes, bad hygiene. Also no heavy feminization

Leo is more than a brother - he practically raised you. Your parents spent most of your childhood either high as a kite or out trying to score their next binge. He was the one getting you ready for school, packing your lunches, and reading you to sleep. He dropped out of school so that he could get a job at the local auto shop to support you. When CPS finally took you out of the meth shack you were born in, Leo became your legal guardian. It was clear from an early age that you were smart enough to make it out of your shithole of a hometown, and he was going to see that happen no matter what.

When you got a scholarship to a university on the other side of the state, he packed up everything into the back of his old pickup and got a new apartment close to campus and got a new job at a new shop to pay all the bills. He made sure you had a good breakfast every morning before school and a hot dinner when you got home, and even scrounged up a few extra dollars here and there so you could go out with your friends.

He always said you didn't owe him anything, that he was just doing what any big brother would do, but when he got arrested you realized just how much he was doing for you. He'd been working at a chop shop, stealing cars and cutting them up for parts, and his boss was, as he put it, a big G Gangster. Not the kind of guy you ratted out, not even for a sweet plea deal.

Leo got a ten year sentence. He tried to put on a brave face when you went to visit, but you could read between the lines. He was getting thinner, and sometimes showed up with a black eye - or not at all. He begged you to put money in his commissary, but you were struggling enough to keep your own head above water.

Then he got a new cellmate, Duke, and became fast friends. The change was almost immediate. No more black eyes or scraped knuckles - though you did see a weird red mark on his shoulder once, before he pulled his shirt up to cover it. Sometimes he perched on the edge of his chair, like sitting hurt. But he started filling out again, smiling a little more, and he stopped asking for money. There was something in the way he talked about Duke that made you wonder about their relationship, but you never asked. What Leo did in prison was his business.

At least until last month. During your visit, Leo asked you for a favor. A big one. Duke was getting out, early release for good behavior, but he needed somewhere to stay. Just for a few months, Leo promised, while he found a job and got his life together. Duke was good guy, Leo said. Honest. Reliable. Hardworking. He wasn't going to steal shit or cause trouble, he just needed a home. Maybe even a friend.

You agreed. What choice did you have? You owe Leo, well, everything. You agreed, and on the first of the month a knock comes at your door. Standing on your doorstop is six and a half feet of muscle, tattoos, and testosterone. His tanned skin, rough tattoos, shaved head, and dark mutton chops make it clear he's fresh out of the slammer. Piercing hazel eyes that watch you like a wolf. He smiles when he sees you, but he's not looking you in the eye, he's measuring you up. "You're Leo's brother," he drawls in a thick southern accent. "I'm Duke. Mighty fine to meet you."

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Kinks: noncon/dubcon, domestic servitude, orientation discovery/shift, bondage, teasing, denial, anal training, plugs, deepthroat training, gagging, enemas, spanking, impact play, nipple play, cock cages, gags, harnesses, piercings, tattoos, collars, enemas, humiliation, rough sex, prostate play, drugging, petplay - you get the picture, other related kinks are likely.

Limits: raceplay, scat, poor hygiene, bad smells, inflation, hyper sizes, gore, and death.

The night air is shockingly cold after the heat of the packed club. Dozens of writhing bodies made the dance floor feel more like a sauna, and my white shirt clings to my toned torso with the light sheen of sweat I'd worked up grinding against girls who didn't give me their number. I've never had great luck with girls despite being easy on the eyes - I'm in great shape, I'm tanned, and I know how to style my dirty blonde hair. Getting girls to look at me, to smile and wave and blush, that part is easy. It's everything after that which falls apart.

Especially when there's alcohol involved. And I've had a lot of alcohol tonight. That's what my brother's bachelor party is supposed to be about, getting shitfaced and hooking up and letting loose. Maybe I got a little too loose with it. The world is spinning as I stumble over to a nearby planter, leaning against it as I search my pockets for my phone.

It isn't there. It's still in my jacket, piled with the rest of them in the VIP booth. I stumble back over to the bouncer and explain that I just need to go back in for a second, or maybe he can go back in for me, and let my group know that I got kicked out. At least grab my phone so I can get a rideshare back to the hotel. But he isn't having any of it. "Fuck off," he growls, and I step away with an irritated sigh.

The sidewalk is really spinning. Did someone slip something into my drink, or did I just have too many? I can't tell. I could try to get a taxi, but I don't have my wallet either. I turn out my pockets and find a single cough drop and my hotel room key. The wind picks up and I shiver again. It's way too cold to wait around out here for the rest of the guys to figure out I'm missing, and I'm not too far from our hotel. Maybe forty-five minutes to an hour.

I decide to walk back and stagger away from the club, towards the bright lights of downtown. My jeans are tight against my round ass and thick thighs, but once I get a couple of blocks away there are no more club girls in tiny dresses around to admire it. I didn't realize there was such a seedy neighborhood in between the nightlife district and the city center... but I decide to press onward. So what if I get mugged? It's not like they could steal my phone or wallet. It never occurs to me that there are worse things than being mugged.

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Kinks: noncon/dubcon, orientation discovery/shift, intoxication play, abduction, bondage, teasing, denial, anal training, plugs, deepthroat training, gagging, enemas, spanking, impact play, nipple play, cock cages, gags, harnesses, piercings, tattoos, collars, enemas, humiliation, rough sex, prostate play, drugging, petplay, domestic servitude - you get the picture, other related kinks are likely.

Limits: raceplay, scat, poor hygiene, bad smells, inflation, hyper sizes, gore, and death.