Date: Sat, 3 Dec 2016 15:44:47 +0000 (UTC)
From: Skorpio <j_skorpio_2005@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Clearing in the Woods - Part 3 (author, interr)

The story you are about to read depicts virulent homophobia, brutal
dehumanization, and ruthless predatory acts calculated to stimulate men who
find that sort of thing erotic. If you are not one of those men, Nifty
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The Clearing in the Woods.

by Skorpio



Part Three: Out with the Truth



"You've got to be kidding me," said Frank.

Everyone was nonplussed by Sonny's revelation, but probably Frank was
stunned the most. He and Sonny had been friends for years. They had
wrestled on the varsity team senior year. This did not make sense. It had
to be a joke. Sonny liked girls, or so Frank always assumed. Mike and
Lebron shrugged as if this came as no big surprise, but Omar owned the smug
expression of one whose suspicions were confirmed.

"It's true," said Buddy. "My own brother is a cocksucker. In fact, he's
been smoking my sausage for almost a year now. Isn't that right,
Sonny-boy?"

The older redhead sat on a large fallen tree trunk, leaning forward so that
his head rested on his knees, incapable of looking his friends in the
eye. Without glancing up, Sonny grabbed another beer, and popped the tab, a
man determined to get drunk. Buddy went on to explain how his fraternal
relationship with Sonny had changed since he found out.

"My brother is messed up. I think he still likes girls, but when he drinks,
something happens to him, alcohol turns him queer or something, and he gets
super horny for cock. I only found out about a year ago when he got really
smashed the weekend our folks were away. I never saw him so fucked up. He
was staggering all over the place, breaking shit, I don't think he didn't
even recognize me. When I tried putting him to bed, he pushed his face into
my crotch and started begging for my cock. Next thing I knew, he managed to
pull down my pants and wrap his lips around my shit."

"Sonny did that?" said Frank, still coming to terms with this mind-blowing
eye-opener.

"I know, right?" said Buddy, shaking his tousled head with dismay. "I
couldn't believe it, either. My own brother was actually sucking my cock. I
was freaking out. Bad enough that's how I found out Sonny was a
cocksucker. What was worse, I didn't stop him. It felt good. Sonny knew
what he was doing, for sure. I've gotten bee-jays from girls, but Sonny was
something else, dude. I mean, he didn't just want my cock in his mouth. He
needed it. So I let him do his thing. It wasn't like we had sex. It was
just a blowjob. Like jerking off except Sonny used his mouth to help me
out. It was something a guy could get used to, but I was afraid to tell
anyone. Figured I was the only guy who would let a cocksucker blow him. I
didn't know what that made me. It didn't turn me gay, I know that."

"You're not gay," laughed Omar. "So what happened after he sucked your
dick? You seem to have him under control.

"Well, the next day I asked Sonny if he remembered what he did," Buddy went
on.  "But he claimed to have blacked out after emptying the liquor
cabinet. I had a feeling he was lying. He remembered what he did, but he
was too ashamed to talk about it. So to get him back in the mood, I brought
out a handle of Dewars Dad stashed in the garage, and got Sonny drunk all
over again. I had a few shots myself in order to do what I was about to
do."

"What did you do?" asked Frank.

"I asked Sonny if he wanted to suck my cock again. I told him it was cool
with me if he wanted to do that. I teased him: you remember how good my big
juicy cock felt in your mouth, don't you? I knew he wanted it. I could tell
by crazed look on his face and his lips were quivering.  Then, I pulled out
my cock so he could get a good look at it, and I fucking swear, he started
drooling like a dog at dinnertime. I was getting impatient, so instead of
asking him if he wanted to blow me, I simply told him to do it: C'mon,
cocksucker! Suck my cock like you did last night! Then, he gave me another
round of excellent head, and you know what I learned from that? Asking
Sonny to suck my cock was not gonna work. The cocksucker had to be bossed
around like a bitch!

"That's when I realized that I was in control. Sonny does whatever I
say. I'm the boss now. I'm in charge. I took pics of Sonny giving head to
keep him in line, and got him trained so he doesn't need booze to turn into
a cocksucker."

"So, basically, you're using Sonny like a slave," Omar pointed out. "That's
good. You ready for this faggot?"

"Yeah, I'm ready."  Buddy beckoned to Brock with a crooked finger while
unbuckling his belt with the other hand. Pants slid to his ankles. The blue
boxers clung snugly to an impressive banana-shaped bulge.

The naked cocksucker kneeled before the young redhead, jerking down the
boxers, taking a moment to admire the semi-flaccid, bone-white prick
dangling in his face, before parting his lips. It did not take long getting
hard. Brock steadied himself by holding onto Buddy's milky thighs. He
started off by lubricating the shaft with saliva, swirling his tongue, and
built up speed as the flesh became engorged.

Once again, the cocksucker knew the amount of pressure and the tempo
required, servicing Buddy exactly the way he liked. A warm, wet, tight
mouth was good as a cunt if the cocksucker knows what he is doing, and
Brock most certainly did. No one could have guessed this was merely his
fifth time. Like guys with innate athletic reflexes, musical ability, or
alacrity with the written word, Brock's skill was fellatio.

"Yeah, he's good," said Buddy. "Real good. Look, Sonny! This cocksucker is
doing your job. Way better than you ever did. I think you need practice!
Somebody stick a cock in my big brother's mouth. I think he feels left
out."

"I can handle that," said Frank. "Sonny and I used to be best friends, but
I had no idea he was a cocksucker. He must have been pervin' on me in the
gym and locker room all those years. That's fucked up. He owes me a
blowjob."

"Yeah, I think so, too," Buddy agreed. "Sonny, before you suck your
friend's cock, take off your clothes and get naked."

"Do I have to?" Sonny mumbled.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" said Buddy, driving his cock into Brock's
throat with a sudden thrust.

"No, sir," said Sonny, mindful of the terrible consequences if he disobeyed
a direct command. Submission was a sexual thrill, and not just when he was
drunk because Buddy brought that out of him. But it was devastating having
this shameful secret exposed to friends and strangers. On the other hand,
giving Frank a blowjob would be awkward, but whatever fears he had were
overridden by his craving for cock. The one thing Sonny did not want to do
was get naked, but he had no choice in the matter.

Sonny slowly unbuttoned his colorful Hawaiian shirt and peeled off the
wifebeater beneath. He had a wiry wrestler's build, small flat nipples like
pink pennies, and wisps of red hair under his arms, and biceps encircled
with tribal ink. Off came his sneakers, followed by a deep sigh as he
unbelted and dropped his trousers. All that remained was a cotton athletic
supporter cupping his private parts.

"Sup with the jockstrap?" asked Omar, directing the question at Buddy
rather than the former athlete.

"Since we share a room," said Buddy, "I make him wear it all the time. That
way I don't have to see his junk, and it seems to make him horny. Makes him
easier to control, I guess."

"That's the key," affirmed Omar. "Keep a faggot horny and he will do
anything you want. And you're right about keeping his junk out of sight. I
don't need to see that shit neither."

"He can keep the jock," decided Frank. "All I'm interested in is his
mouth."

"Go on, Sonny," Buddy insisted. "Suck your friend's cock."

"Former friend," corrected Frank. "How am I gonna be friends with a
cocksucker?"

"That's true," admitted Buddy. "Ever since I found out, it's been real
embarrassing having him for a brother. I know that's not a reflection on me
or my folks. He is what he is. At least he's not prowling the streets
looking for dick like Cockroach. I keep Sonny busy doing my chores and
homework, when he isn't sucking my cock, that is. Do you know he woke me up
one morning with a blowjob, and he wasn't even drunk? I was fucking
pissed. After he got me off, I made him stand in the corner in his
underwear which gave him a boner, believe it or not. So I took a couple
pics with his phone and threatened to text them to some high school girls
if he didn't get in line. That straightened him out. You know what I mean."

"What a pussy."

"I figured out something else. Sonny woke me with that BJ on purpose
because he wanted to piss me off. He wanted to get punished. He likes being
bossed around. It's like he makes you treat him like shit. I feel kind of
bad about it sometimes."

"You shouldn't," said Omar. "You're doin' the right thing. Look, I'm sorry
about you losing your brother. Being related to a cocksucker is like having
a death in the family. But at least you got a slave in return, you know?"

"Yeah, it really is like having a slave," Buddy admitted. He glanced down
at his cock sliding in and out of Brock's mouth. "Lick my balls, bitch."

"Next time Sonny gets out of line, you should take a belt to his ass. Not
being able to sit down for a week will make him think twice about fucking
up."

"Yeah, that's a good idea."

"You don't have to wait until he fucks up either, you know what I'm
saying?"

"I'm way ahead of you, bro," said the freckled youth with an impish
smile. "He's gonna get the belt when we get home. I can't wait."

"Cool," said Omar. "You may have to gag him because he's gonna
scream. Faggots can't deal with pain. Make every stroke count. When he begs
you to stop, you're halfway there. Keep going, harder and harder, until he
breaks down and cries, but make sure he's completely broken before you
stop."

"Yeah, I can do that. Makes sense."

"Now this is the important part. After you break the faggot down, you can
rebuild him. Tell him how much it pleases you when he is obedient. You
don't like punishing him, but it's necessary, tell him he needs to accept
that. Then let him know you love the way he sucks your cock, because that,
my friend, is what a faggot wants to hear. He wants to please you with his
mouth more than anything in the world. He sucks cock. That's his
function. Getting drunk doesn't change who he is, it just brings out his
true nature. He was born a cocksucker. He can't change. So let your big
brother do what he does best. Give him a taste of dick for taking his
punishment like a good faggot."

"You know a lot about this shit," said Buddy.

"Yeah, I've had some experience," admitted Omar. "I'll tell you about it
some time. Mind if I give you some more advice?"

"Sure, go ahead!"

"Sonny is a loser. I don't know why your folks put up with him. Make him
get a job. A janitor maybe. Garbage collector. Flipping burgers. Something
menial with long hours and a lot of overtime. Make him give half his
paycheck to your folks, and you keep the other half. When you get paid, let
him suck your dick. Down the road when you get a place of your own, let
your brother stay with you out of the kindness of your heart and no one
will suspect a thing. You're just looking out for your loser of a brother
who wouldn't make it without your help. That's the stone truth! He wants to
be used."

"Yes-he-does!" said Buddy. "I don't even need to threaten him with exposure
anymore. He might grumble sometimes, but he does what he's told because it
turns him on when I tell him to do something. He's sick."

"You have no idea, my friend," said Omar. "There is nothing these perverts
won't do. I used Cockroach for a urinal last night, pissed in his mouth,
pissed all over him in fact. Sent him home smelling like a fucking toilet
bowl."

"We should do that tonight before we split up, you know? All of us should
piss on these cocksuckers. I wanna see the look on Sonny's face. What do
you say?"

While Buddy and Omar were talking, Frank whipped out his cock, and Sonny
fell into position. The hairy stud grunted with approval as he felt the
cocksucker's warm, soft, wet lips, like a woman's labia, encircling his
stiffening tool. Frank glared down at Sonny and met his former peer's
pleading gaze. "There you go, Sonny-boy, you fucking faggot, yeah suck my
dick, I know you want it," he ranted. "I know how Buddy feels about losing
a brother. We were like brothers but not no more. At least Buddy got a
slave out of it. Omar, what's Cockroach's story? You own that faggot?"

"Let's just say I found him," Omar shrugged. "You can have him if you
want. He can be your faggot slave."

"Seriously?" exclaimed Frank. His thick, dark brows arched like
caterpillars.

"Word is bond."

Omar and Frank sealed their deal with a fist bump. Brock knew his fate had
been decided by two young men who saw him as nothing more than a
convenience, a means to an end. He had no say in the matter. His life would
never be the same again. How would this affect his job? What if his family,
friends and neighbors found out? Brock choked on Buddy's cock, and had to
catch his breath. The young redhead gave him a second before shoving his
ivory pole back into the cocksucker's mouth.

"You better learn to control that gag reflex, faggot," snickered Buddy,
with a thrust. "Sounds like you're gonna be sucking a whole lot of cock
from now on."

"Tell you what," Omar suggested. "Cockroach should take you home with him
so you know where he lives."

"I've got a better idea," replied Frank, scratching his flat, furry
stomach. "I'm gonna crash at Cockroach's place tonight. Spend a few days so
we can get to know each other. My dad wants me out of the house anyway, so
I'll say I'm staying with a friend. This bitch better know how to cook."

"Dude, he's a faggot. Of course he knows how to cook. See, that's what I'm
saying. He's good for more than just sucking dick. Not only can he cook, he
can do laundry like a pro and clean up behind you. If you want, he can
follow you around like a mobile ashtray or urinal. Very convenient. And you
won't have to tell him to pay your bills or buy you shit because he will do
that totally on his own. If a faggot wants to make you happy, why not let
him? Doesn't make you any less of a man. In fact, it's just the opposite,
because you're letting a queer be your slave."

"I've always wanted a slave," said Frank, but the inscrutable way Omar
looked at him with unblinking eyes made Frank elaborate: "Not, you know,
not like on a plantation or anything like that. Not that kind of
slave. Like, um, like in ancient Rome, you know?"

"Cockroach is probably not gonna be your only faggot slave. There's a lot
to choose from when you think you're ready to handle more. But there's one
thing I want you to do for me, in exchange for giving you Cockroach as a
starter fag."

"No problem," Frank readily agreed. "Name it."

"No black faggots. Leave them to me and my cousins. Call me if you run
across one, but let us deal with it."

"You got it. Anyway, I would feel kind of funny owning a black faggot
slave."

"Because it would be wrong," Omar averred flatly.

"Do you think all cocksuckers are like this?" Frank asked, ready to change
the subject. "Cause it seems like there's a whole of faggots these
days. They're on TV, getting married, playing football, always having
parades, they're everywhere."

"They're not the kind of faggots we deal with. It's closet cases like
Cockroach, the ones who betray their families, friends, and society by
lurking among us, pretending to be straight. Like your old pal chowing down
on your dick right now. But keep this shit on the down low. Don't go
bragging to your squad every time you get your knob polished to perfection
or the faggot buys you something nice, because people might ask questions
you won't wanna answer. You're a Master now. Get your life together."

"Master Frank. I like the sound of that."

"You getting all this, Cockroach? You're gonna be Master Frank's slave,"
Omar proclaimed over stereophonic slurping. "See how everything works out
when you let a Real Man be in charge? You got the Master you wanted all
along. Heh-heh. I know you're gonna miss this black dick, but don't
worry. I'm gonna check up on you, see how your owner is making out. You'll
get a good taste of this again."

Omar turned back to Frank, the proud faggot owner: "If this piece of shit
gives you any trouble, give me a holler. Me and my cousins will take care
of it. We know a thing or two about dealing with faggots." The quarterback
and center folded their muscular arms across their chests and nodded
silently with grim, taut smiles.

The sun was westering in a blaze of golden light as Buddy and Frank
ejaculated. Both grunted with satisfaction. The case of beer was
depleted. No one wanted another blowjob. Getting hungry, everyone concurred
it was time to break camp. There was a round of solidarity marked by
handshakes, fist bumps, high fives, and back slaps, congratulating
themselves on a good time and swearing not to breathe a word of it. After
Omar exchanged phone numbers with Buddy and Frank, there was one last thing
to do.

The six men stood in a circle around the naked fags squatting on the
ground, and took out their cocks. Six streams of urine were aimed at the
two gaping mouths. The faggots' eyes were clenched shut. Brock let his
mouth fill up like a bowl and then he swallowed without reluctance. Knowing
Frank was coming home with him was all the thirty-five year old cocksucker
could think about. Sonny grimaced as piss filled his mouth, choking him,
causing him to sputter, swallow, and gag, sickened by the acrid taste, the
foul stench. It was more humiliating than anything he had experienced since
coming out to his brother. More humiliating than having his secret exposed
to a group of guys, some of them strangers. More than being rejected by his
old pal Frank, more than being made to suck Frank's cock.

Buddy ordered the two stinking faggots to get dressed. Frank told Brock to
gather all the empty cans and cigarette butts into a cardboard box.

"Get used to cleaning up my mess, faggot. I'm putting your faggot ass to
work. I expect you to scrub the toilet after every time I use it, got it?
Yeah, slave! This is going to work out. Be a good slave, and I might let
you blow me before I go to bed. Oh, and I'll be sleeping in your bed from
now on, so I hope you have a guestroom. Nah, you can sleep on the floor
like an animal until I decide how things are gonna be. You look like you
work out. You can get me membership at your gym, yeah, we can get that done
tomorrow. You wanna do that for me, fag?"

Brock nodded contentedly. He was beginning to have an idea of what living
with Frank would be like. Basically, he would be Frank's personal chef,
chamber maid, and ATM, as well as his cocksucking whore. It was an
arrangement Brock could live with even if it did take a while for him
answering to his new name: Cockroach.

As for Sonny, he had no idea what was in store for him that night. He
trotted behind Buddy, downwind because of his foul smell, glad the day was
over, hoping Buddy did not feel like rehashing what had happened. After
all, Sonny consoled himself, he did every Buddy told him. He even gave
Frank a blowjob, which he wanted to do anyway, but he did it knowing it
would cost him their friendship. Irrevocably. Maybe if Sonny had refused,
shown some backbone, he could have won back a shred of Frank's respect. But
that was unthinkable. Sonny had to obey his little brother. Buddy was the
boss.

Omar and his two cousins lingered behind. One never knew when a cop might
be parked behind the liquor store. Best to stagger their departure. A
string of guys emerging drunkenly from the woods seemed like a bad
idea. Omar, Mike, and Lebron were not actually drunk having consumed
considerably less malt liquor than the others. All three were definitely
high evidenced by eyes glittering like polished mirrors. Mike sparked
another blunt and passed it to Lebron. Several minutes went by in
silence. Their minds were in accord. It was a moment to reflect. They were
as one. Finally, Mike spoke. His deep, rich voice projected strength,
integrity, confidence. "I think that went well," he said. "I think so,
too," said Lebron.

"What's next?" said Omar.

Said Mike: "There's a cocksucker who prowls the men's room in Brookside
Park picnic grounds after dark. I shadowed him home, talked to his
neighbors, got the scoop. Divorced, kids, cushy political appointment. Big
family values type. No one suspects he sucks dick at night. After I break
him in, I'm gonna introduce him to this cat I know, Monroe, who could
really use a faggot."

"Does Monroe know you're a Hunter?" asked Omar.

"I told him everything. He's down with the whole mission statement. Wants
to do his part. He was locked up for awhile. Had a white faggot for a cell
bitch. Funny thing about that is the cellie was straight before he shared a
cage with Monroe, know what I'm saying? My boy been used plenty fags when
they crossed his path, but he never went looking. Until now. He's been
reading some of the literature. Says he's ready. Wants to own a faggot
slave.

Said Omar: "Sounds good. Let me know how it works out. I gotta get home. Ma
Dukes got dinner on the stove, plus I've gotta Skype with this faggot
later, some rich-bitch-preacher-piggy bank in Texas who wants to pay me to
tell him what I honestly think about fags. Thirty minutes of
no-holds-barred, verbal terror is gonna cost him a good grand. But I can
double that by making him beg for more. It's like taking candy from a
baby."

It was dusk. The air was thick, sullen with humidity, perfumed by
honeysuckle. Cicadas were screaming for sex and lightning bugs were
flickering with identical intent. Under the rising full moon, the empty
clearing in the woods exerted an allure like a Venus flytrap waiting for
anyone choosing to gather there to fall under its spell.



THE END