Date: Sat, 25 Feb 2017 21:25:57 -0500
From: Bear Pup <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Karl and Greg 17

Please see original story
(www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/karl-and-greg/karl-and-greg-1) for warnings
and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex
between blood-related men. Go away if any of that is against your local
rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but
flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Skip food-related
paragraphs with (^) at the start. Donate to Nifty **TODAY** at
donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.

*****

I looked up as Pa and saw... a mirror. His jaw had dropped so far I could
see his tonsils. His eyes were enormous and suffused with worry, confusion
and lust. I swallowed hard. "Um, okay, um... so that happened." Pa just
nodded slowly. It was abundantly clear that neither of us knew what came
next, were both petrified to find out.

*****

Karl and Greg 17: The Big Game

By Bear Pup

M/M; competition; oral

For a few lifetimes, Pa and I just stared at the TV which remained as
vacant as our minds. I felt like a Monty Python character who had just be
savaged by a fluffy white bunny. There was something so, well, *wrong*
about a Greg who could stare down Pa and make me actually, honestly use the
word, "Eek." There were some vague noises from the kitchen, but neither of
us had the, well, the balls to look in that direction in case the Greg From
Hell returned.

We both tensed when we felt Greg came back to the room.

"Pa, Karl, would you care for lunch? We're having French Dips and they're
ready when you are." Neither of us actually turned our head, but we caught
each other's sideways-cranked eyeballs. I was still a kid; Pa could throw
himself on that grenade!

"Um, sure, son. That sounds, um, great."

We got up and Greg was wearing his sexy-as-fuck apron and smiling like
nothing had happened other than sunshine and smiles. He turned, those
whatever-the-fuck red things still framing his incomparable ass and
apron-strings trailing in the delectable crack. We followed meekly back to
the table. Greg set a plate for each of us with a grinder fresh from the
oven, crispy cheese and something on top. A bowl of brown stuff and a beer
were there as well.

^ [Greg: AAGGHH! I can't take it! Grinder? BROWN STUFF? Fresh-cut
baguettes, toasted with horseradish mayo, thinly-sliced rare roast beef
then a layer of Gruyere all topped with sliced onions in herbed oil and
salt. Baked open-face until hot and bubbly with a rich au jus on the side
and a Belgian Wheat beer. Fine. Back to your regularly-schedule lunk
already in progress... Sheesh!]

The food was out of this world. You dunked the grinder in the brown stuff
and it was heaven. The beer was different, but seemed really great when you
were eating. Pa and I finished our huge ones and Greg ate a slight-smaller
version, jumping up to refill the beer or the browns stuff as needed. It
was like yesterday, only sexier, with a side of 'OMG, I hope Scary-Greg is
gone now'. When the last crumb was gone, Greg's very chipper and sweet
voice was back.

"Let's go in the living room and talk. Pa? Karl? I'll bring the beers."

And he did. Pa sat in his chair, I in mine and Greg sat on the sofa just
like we did normally when watching TV before I went off to Indy. I choked
up a little, as Mom had always sat on the other end of the couch, the one
close to Pa, and I really did feel a pang now and then that no one sat
there anymore.

The voice that spoke was Greg's. I know because his lips moved. But it was
a calm, business-like Greg. Not the fluffy-bunny Greg or the near-to-tears
Greg or the {gulp} fires-of-hell Greg. Both Pa and I watched with cautious
optimism.

"Now, here is how this will work if either of you ever want to have sex
with me again." He stood up. The apron was gone but his raging boner
wasn't, and neither were those crotchless shorts-things that demanded that
you look at his package. He handed each of us a sheet of paper, moving in a
way that made me pop so hard I thought I broke my dick. That was nothing,
though, compared to when he 'accidentally' dropped his pencil and bent
over. Even Pa gasped as that luscious ass parted and we could each see that
winking hole. I moaned, not giving a fuck if they heard me.

He returned to his seat and waited, finally pulling a pad over his crotch
to break our concentration. We both gulped, and looked down. He'd given us
each a list like the one I'd made, but with some items changed, added or
dropped. Next to each was a number.

"Sports and points are the only way I can think of to get you two to pay
attention, so here's the Big Game, better than football by a long
shot. That's a list of what needs to be done around here. Every Sunday,
I'll have a new list for the week. Either of you are free to pick one or
more things off that list and do them. You can also just lay around on
Sunday and relax, or go out, or whatever you like, entirely your choice.

"If you *do* want to do some chores, look at the number. You score that
many points for completing the item and doing it well. If you're sloppy you
get squat. If nobody has points by dinner, I go out afterwards and sleep in
my room. Whoever has the most points, though, is whom I'll be sleeping with
each night.

"Will you 'get some'? If you're nice and ask and I am in the mood, yes. If
you're bitchy and entitled and nasty about it, you know where the jack-off
lotion is kept but don't expect me to help or even watch."

Pa and I were spellbound. What the fuck was going on?

"No game is fun if there aren't penalties, extra points and bonuses,
though. Be a grump or a fuckwad to me or each other -- pull some macho
bullshit like this afternoon, for instance -- and Every. Fucking. Point
vanishes. Do anything that pisses me off, and I deduct 10 points. If you
hurt me, physically or in any other way -- like giving me as a fucking
birthday present {glare to Pa} or patting your lap like I'm your fucking
dog {glare to me} -- and that's 20 points lost. And if you're in the red at
supper, that is where you START the next day until you work it off.

"Extra points are simple. Do more than just the job on the list, like
something really a lot better, and you can get points added. Anywhere from
2 to 5.

"As for bonuses, they don't work that way. Go out of your way to be nice to
each other, or me, or do something special for us or treat us, and you
might get anything from a long, sexy wank to a phenomenal blow job. Do
something really great and unexpected and I throw in your favourite kinks
next time I'm in your bed. Erotic massage? A little piss-play? A long, oh
sooooo loooooong edging session? Orgasmic foot rub? Don't worry, I'll keep
it interesting." Pa and I were flat out drooling at this point, he was
sucking in huge lungfuls of air and I was panting like puppy.

"Let's see if you were listening. Karl, how do you earn points?"

"Um, uh, um... Do stuff on the list and be nice."

"Half-right. Points come from the list. Being really, really nice gets
you," he slowly licked his lips, "special treatment."

"Pa, how do you lose points."

"Um, be mean to you or not do what you say?"

"No, you never have to do what I say. I'm not your boss. And it's not about
me, it's about US. Be mean to *anyone* in the house, act like a fucking
idiot to *anyone*, be a dick *in any way* and those points get
flushed. Make me mad or hurt me, yep, those lose points. Being a prick
loses you everything."

"Karl, what do you get if you do something really, really special for Pa
and me?"

"Oh, God, Greg, I hope it's another blow job like last night!"

Greg chuckled, "could be, or could be something even... better." My mind
boggled at the thought of dot-dot-dot better. I nearly came in my pants.

"Now, this next week will be a hard one for everybody. Tests for me and
Karl and a lot of dealing with two freaked out sons for Pa. So this week we
have special rules.

"Karl, each afternoon I'm going to quiz you on each of the two tests you
took. If I think you aced it, you get 30 points. If I think you passed it
pretty well, 15. Otherwise zip. Pa starts with 30 points each day for
making the money that keeps us in this house, and can do any chores he
wants for more. You, Karl, don't get points from anything other than
getting great grades."

I did some quick math. If this were an algebra test, I'd'a flunked it
straight, but this was just sports scores with weird weightings. No sweat!
Nothing small enough to fit at the end of the day was worth more than 5-10
points, so if I aced one test and even passed the other each day, I got
Greg. If I flunked even one, or otherwise fucked up AT ALL and Pa even,
like, cleaned a cupboard, I was gonna listen to them fuck themselves silly
with nothing but a jack-rag. FUCK!

"Well, Pa, Karl, it's 1:00 and the bell rings at six o'clock sharp..." Pa
was up first but I had a jump on the stairs as we ran to get some clothes
on.

Now, there were some real subtleties in this scoring system. Some of the
items seemed easy but could be really fidgety, like making the washer stop
moving and thumping. Could take 30 seconds and wrench, or an hour with a
whole toolkit. Some were straightforward, clear the garage; fix a squeaky
door; weed the flowerbed. But those had tiny little scores and you'd have
to do lots. Some were an all-day crap-shoot on whether you could get it
done at all, like organise the shed, but were worth a ton of points. All of
that was thought out before I even topped the stairs.

By the time I had dragged on the minimum of clothes, I was already out the
back door. I saw Pa had his toolbelt and was headed to the laundry. The
shed had been a playground for me since I was a kid, so I knew the massive
junk-pile was actually not that bad. I dove in like a man
possessed. Everything, and I mean *everything* came out and got sorted and
I was seconds form putting it back when the idea of 'extra points'
popped. I ran into the house and got the push-broom from the garage. The
floor was spotless in minutes, and every item I put back got a brush-up
before ending up in its proper place. Maybe two hours left.

I ran in and asked breathlessly, "Do I tell you when I'm done or at the
end." Greg laughed and said either was fine, so I told him about the shed
and the clean-up just before I launched myself toward the garage. Fuck if
that bastards Pa hadn't already got the Christmas decoration boxes out and
into the attic. Damn. Check the list. BINGO!

I snatched a step-ladder, some chamois and a wad of lead stickers and ran
for Karl's room. Balancing a ceiling fan so it doesn't tick or squeak is a
fussy job, but I'd just spent 9 weeks at the Brickyard. That fan was
nothing but a goddam sideways wheel! I spotted the wobble and went to place
the lead for the first test and realised that the fan was fucking filthy. I
cleaned the whole thing, even the lamp part, the balanced it. That took
four tries, but only maybe fifteen minutes. I ran and did the ones in Pa's
room, my room and the living room, giving each the same treatment. About an
hour left!

I scanned the list. Cars? Machine? Tronics? Nothing. Pa was a builder and I
knew he's be all over the doors and windows and trim like white on
rice. Hall closet! No, that thing was a monster that could eat the
unwary. Maybe next week. Instead, I decided to dust the highboy in the
hall. This knickknack nightmare had been Mom's domain, and I guess it
probably hurt Greg a lot to touch the stuff. I felt sad, but not the way it
would have made him feel. It wasn't a lot of points but it seemed... right.

I took meticulous care of every item, not just dusting but polishing and
shining the relics of a woman who was important to me, but was Greg's
universe. I even windexed the glass, finishing just a few minutes before
the deadline. I was in front of Greg explaining the fans and the curios
when Pa came, drenched in sweat in and announced he'd done the loose trim
and railings around *the entire house*, including the porch. FUCK! That was
a buttload of points!

Greg told us to turn on the TV and enjoy the sports for a bit as dinner
would be served at 6:30. We both just collapsed in our chairs. We grinned
at each other like opponents at the end of a long and friendly match and
settled back for some baseball. The Reds were off today, but that was
okay. KC was playing. Pa had always said that his two favourite teams were
the Reds and whoever was playing the fucking Royals.

Into that backdrop rose a smell that made both of us growl, and stomachs,
too. Greg eventually came in. Pa and I tensed. The bout was over and we
were about to hear from the judges. And Greg said... nothing.

Greg smiled and moved over to me. My heart soared in elation and joy. He
slowly teased out my cock and balls and began to lick and nibble my
foreskin. I moaned as his amazing tongue worked its way down under the skin
to clean the day's sweat and musk and I groaned in appreciation. Suddenly,
the winning was second to the fact that the person I worshipped, man and
boy, was crouched in my crotch and sending me to heaven.

A sudden deep-throat sent me squealing, then down to my nuts with long,
supple tongue-strokes. Long low growls of satisfaction kept erupting from
me. When his long, thin hand slipped under and found my pucker, I whinnied
like a horse then went back to purring like a lion. Round and round,
foreskin, head, shaft, deep-throat and back. One hand teasing and
tormenting my quivering ass and the other caressing and tickling my
sensitive balls.

This wasn't the long, insane, intense, mind-altering thing that I'd had
last night, but it was damn sure a close second. This was a not the edging
and torturous rapture, but in about ten lifetimes/minutes I was howling in
ecstasy when he finally brought me off, explosively, and began to lick and
suckle up the drops. I looked over and Pa's face was a thing to behold. He
did not like being beat, and he was not pleased in any way, shape or
form. He looked like a red thunderstorm poised to wipe out a town. Greg
tucked me back in, zipped me up and sat back as my breathing returned to
normal and an almost-liquid contentment took me. I was in heaven, and not
only because I beat Pa, but because I won Greg.

Greg sat back on his haunches and looked up and smiled gently. "Karl, I'm
sorry, Pa won."

<eof>

Keep the letters coming and let me know what you think about the
newly-emancipated Greg. -Bear Pup