Authors note: If you are reading this hoping for sex by the inch, semen slopping over the pages, weird and wonderful demonic sexual rituals then you will be disappointed. This is a story about two brothers separated by death and how one of them resolves the problem. Is the there sex? Certainly but not on ever page or, for that, every other page. I don't want to disappoint my readers but I do hope those who read this find the same elements of love, sex and, oh yes, what to do with a demon, that I did when I wrote it. I'm probably going to write a sequel in which some of the elements that may not be emphasized here are more apparent. Thanks for reading and I do hope you'll enjoy it.     PJ

A DEMON FOR CHRISTMAS



That was the year Bill wanted very little for Christmas, the proverbial socks and underwear would be great if only.....his brother could come home, rough house on the floor in the T shirts, boxers and white socks but....that wouldn't happen. Nor would he pick up, throw him in the pool and jump in after him. Now and next summer and forever, the surface of the pool would remain still, almost like mercury surrounded by cement. Jack would never come back, never.


In his closet, where it wouldn't disturb his family, particularly his mother, he'd made a little memorial to his older brother, nothing maudlin, just some pictures, a gag prize he'd won at the county fair, and....a pair of while socks, the kind Hanes makes, with the red lettering and the grey stripe. When he cried he could bury his face in those socks so no one heard or saw or even knew. His parents had reserved mourning and grief only for themselves and now Bill was just a transitory figure who lived there, ate there, did the required chores and was not noticed.


16 isn't the best time to be alone particularly at Christmas. They lived just on the margin of the school district, almost too far for his few friends to come and, of course, his own family was too self involved with their suffering to remember to do much more than buy groceries and put the trash out on Wednesdays;While Bill didn't think of himself as trash he often wished they'd put him out as well, at least someone would collect him, he could be taken.....somewhere.


On the third, or maybe it was the fourth, day of Christmas his Dad brought home the mandatory tree. That evening he and his wife put lights and not much else on it as they dissolved into tears and comforting each other. After they'd taken their suffering to bed Bill finished it knowing they'd never notice; The lights were on it so when a switch was turned it lit and the other crap, the tinsel, the ornaments, the star on top were just....there.


He picked up the last box of glass balls, the good sort of decoration that echo the purpose of the trees and how to decorate them and tried to decide how to place the dozen or so in a way they'd be noticed. A cord on the floor, a sneaker entangled, twelve glass balls falling like fragile hail that, like hail, crashed when they hit the floor. The only one that had most of it, not all, but most, was the one Jack had painted God knew when as a class project. At least he had that and, forgetting the mess, raced to his room before it broke and put it with his small, modest collection of things that reminded him of Jack. He reached for a sock....



....but one was handed to him or, more properly, put around his face to stifle tears. He felt himself being pulled back against a warm, fleshy thing. He was too scared to wonder to ask but that wasn't necessary...


"Hello kid, you always did break my balls." He didn't turn around but was turned around to see a version of Jack, not Jack but clearly a figure based on Jack. He wondered if he could fall forward into his arms, hug him, be hugged....the question was answered when the figure reached for him, brought him to him and held him tight. A hand ruffled his hair, he was made more comfortable in a lap, he leaned his head against a broad, muscular chest that he didn't remember as being Jack. This one was heavily muscled and one nipple was scratching the back of his neck, No, not Jack. Also, Jack didn't have a silver barbell stuck through it. Not Jack. But he had the aura of Jack, the sense of being with Jack even the scent of Jack.


Slowly, fearfully he looked up into a bright, shining face that was....almost Jack. The three dimples, the long eyelashes, the fountain of hair that fell over this forehead and down the back of his neck but it was more Jack than it wasn't and that was good enough for Bill.


"Did you get what you want? No socks and underwear?Just something in your closet that's yours....forever."

Whatever it was put a finger over Bill's mouth and slowly, carefully, explained that when Jack had died, murdered actually, he'd changed, murder does that to people. He clawed to come back to, he admitted it, to kill his younger brother to have with him but, of course, that wasn't allowed. Still there was one option, sort of an other worldly Plan B and that was he could come back but not quite as angelic as he'd left the earth. No one denied he was a good man but his longing, suffering for his little brother grew bothersome to those who see to these things and finally they gave him the choice; Sure you can go back, be invisible except when you want to be BUT it must be as a demon, not the typical evil demon but one, none the less, who would be....more spirited, take chances, laugh more and, the home run, he could have his brother with him, forever, until his brother died and then, well, demons live forever, brothers, young or otherwise, do not.


He took the deal and was already secreted away in the closet looking at the adoration his kid brother had for him when he heard the ornament drop, knew which one it was and that opened the door....just as Bill opened the door only seconds later.


"Hi, come on in, I've been waiting.....time to get my brother back, it's why I came." Bill almost cried with relief."I'll go get Dad's gun, I know where he keeps it." Jack looked at him and explained that coming back for him meant he could be with him, not that they'd die together and be together. They had all of Bill's life to be together starting right there in the closet. That was going to be their go-to place.


"First things first, time we got acquainted, not as brother and brother but more as... possessor of demon and demon. I'm the demon as if that wasn't obvious." Bill wasn't dealing with the obvious particularly well but whatever Jack, or this part of Jack, said, he was in agreement.


"First thing, you remember how we used to play'Everything But'? Bill looked a bit blank but then...he had reason to be blank. Jack smiled his amazing smile. "You know, when you were younger and we'd wrestle around you'd try to get my cock and then,'Everything But' ". Bill looked down, ashamed, he remembered more than Jack might have thought. One of his dreams was to be naked and held in his brothers arms while he did ... something, something that felt good and was sexy to him. Now, years later he knew what he had wanted but the moment had passed. Jack looked at him, smiled, and told him to take off his clothes, they were about to play"everything, no but". That's when he noticed that this apparition had on no clothes and was reaching for him. Lifted him, kissed him. "Now, strip, peel, lose the drawers, all the way and when you're done, I'll be in our bed.....waiting for you."


Bill sat on the edge of his bed, as ordered, naked, while behind him a more visible Jack, also naked, lay on his side, smile on his face, waiting slightly impatiently. Reaching one hand forward, he tipped his brother back so that his head fell on his abdomen, leaned up and then down to kiss him. "That's how it starts. I also knew you wanted me but....I was afraid, you were so young...and there were penalties so we went through what could have been a happier period playing on the floor rasslin' around but never getting to the point we both wanted. That, however, was then. How old are you now? Where I've been time isn't real important."


"Sixteen, birthday's in two month, seventeen then."

"Fuck, I forgot you're our Valentine...."

Bill shuddered when he heard that, being the Valentine Birthday Boy had gotten old very quickly; Before he was ten he was sick of it and the memory lingered. He turned his face to his brother who immediately saw how things were.

"Sorry, bro, it was just a habit, one I've immediately broken. But look at you, on your way to stallion or stud or whatever....." And a quirkish look went across his face. "A course, I can't do so much that it would be noticed, like have you go downstairs tomorrow, six feet three, two hundreds pounds of solid muscle, we can get there but all in one night....." There was a long pause while he looked and felt and thought and smiled and looked some more.


"Every guy dreams about what they want to look like but too many make the mistake of wanting a fantasy, in my line of work, you see it all the time. Want to be six seven, weigh three hundred, squat six hundred pounds, have a twelve inch cock, balls that bounce of their knees but...."

"I don't want that, never did." He was quiet and almost sad. "I just wanted to look like what you wanted me to look like, like you or whatever you wanted." Then there were tears and Jack knew how to deal with that; He took his face in his hand, used his tongue like a can opener and gave him what was probably his first French kiss. Bill, not unexpectedly gagged-the new Jack had a very long tongue. But it was only a moment before he returned it as best he knew how. Softly, gently, Jack got him on the bed, rolled him over, put a pillow under his tummy then leaned over.


"Bill, I've wanted to do this for a long time. In a way I'm glad it's now and not then, then would have been too soon but now you're almost a man and your desire has held up. I'm going to fuck you, take your cherry and even demons can't take away the little pain that's there the first time. Maybe that's good, gives you something to remember, something to compare to later when there is no pain. Gonna do it bareback cuz that's the only way to do it. If I thought there were ever going to be another man for you, well, I'd make fucking sure he wore everything including rubber gloves but you're going to be my man and I'm already your demon. Anything you want to do, we will but we gotta start here with me fucking you.Breeding you. Leaving my seed in you then letting you clean my cock so you can have the first taste of yourself." He leaned over so that his face was beside that of his brother. "You're going in sixteen going on seventeen but you're coming out a man, an ageless man, just like your brother. If you want to scream, okay, they'll never hear you, they're too busy missing me, occupational hazard of being killed in war. But that just means your all mine, forever. Now, let me do what I really know how to do and fuck the shit out of you."


Jack knew that the taking of innocence should be easy, not frightening, welcome particularly if the two persons really cared for each other. As he sat on Bill's legs, his cock immediately ready and slippery with precum, he leaned forward, braced himself with his hands by his brother's chest and started through the gate to knowledge with his cock. Bill muffled some slight cries but then stopped as Jack with infinite patience made him understand what the joy of one man's cock in you was really like. It was as if his tunnel suddenly widened and Jack slid down right to the orb of exhilaration, his prostate. In the future, he'd find out the additional pleasures of the deep, ravenous fuck but for this moment better to emphasize the pleasure leaving the pleasure through pain for later. They'd get there, just not this time. He could hear his possession begin to whimper as the messages from his interior bounced off his brain and sent their own signals to all the pleasure receptors he had.Whimpering turned to groaning, he bucked slightly to drive this spike of wonderment deeper into him but Jack, smiling, denied it. His brother was well and truly fucked, it only was left to have him feel being bred, the elixir of semen that kept men as a species going and so he left his seed in Bill then slowly withdrew and rolled him over.


The face of the newly knowledgeable is a great thing to observe, not happy, not exultant but amazed, enthralled at the feelings in his body. One thing only remained as Jack lowered his still hard staff to his brother's panting lips and carefully inserted it. There was a willing orifice. Bill, who was still on his first time for many things, almost bit off the head now in his mouth in his anxiety to please. Jack took his hand and set the jaws where they needed to be and did the final thing, the one he planned, he fed himself to his beloved brother. He'd saved a good portion so that Bill could have a full course, not just have to lick wildly seeking spots of white man's milk. Again, little brother closed his eyes and suckled on the one thing he loved and was rewarded by a taste...he'd never had. When it stopped pumping out he instinctively licked it, put up a hand to hold it where it was as if there was more, more but, of course there wasn't. As Jack slipped it out, he kissed his brother and then taking one finger on each eye, closed them for a long sleep filled with dreams of what had happened what would happen again and, for the first time in years, no nightmares, just dreams of his brother.


Jack sat to the side as he covered him, made sure he was in a comfortable position but also in a position to do one or two little things. Nothing great or grand but....things that would be helpful in many ways. Nipples grew slightly wider and very much darker, the center of each having a hard, raised spot as if there were something pointed pushing from within. A wave across his face and, in the morning, his twice a week shaving would turn to an everyday necessity. Lower down, imperceptibly his cock grew just a little, his sack lengthened and the balls within it rolled a bit and became larger. It was enough for then; He wondered if Bill would notice? And, because he never needed to sleep, he wandered about his old home looking, noticing and, finally, entering the room where his parents were fitfully sleeping. One last thing for that day....everyone in the house was now sleeping peacefully, each with their own memories of a vanished man but none of them sad.


He thought about school the next day and what he might do there. And smiled.



Because they lived so far out, Bill was the first to be picked up by the bus and the last to be dropped off. Some days, like this one, he could stretch out on the bench seat that went the full width of the bus and get if not exactly sleep, a satisfying nap for the fifty minutes it took to get to school. He was such a fixture back there that nobody bothered him, just made sure he was awake, although sometimes this lay to the driver to do, to haul ass and get into school.


This was, of course, a different day. Overnight a lot had changed the first being when, after his shower, he noticed he really needed to shave, even the hair under his arms and his crotch seemed a bit thicker and speaking of thicker, he handled his dick and thought...somehow it seemed larger? Thicker? And his balls were slightly different. He chalked it up to the experience he'd had the previous evening, smiled at the thought and wondered where Jack was?Clean and ready to get dressed he automatically went to the closet where he found his shrine gone but his brother hanging on the wall in a slightly demonic attitude. Around his head was a slight, red glow and just the suggestion of horns from his forehead. His eyes were red but the most startling things were his cock and balls both of which almost touched the floor, the cock head looking like the forked tail of a devil's tail. Scared, he grabbed his brother, afraid he might be gone again but found he immediately turned into the bright, smiling brother he loved.


"Okay, first thing today, I'm going to pick out what you wear. Got a pair of jeans you've almost outgrown? Wear them. No T shirt, just this" He fumbled in the back of the hangers and produced an old shirt that had been Jacks. Unbuttoned one lower than usual, a wider belt and he was told to wear his boots as well as the bomber jacket Jack had bought him. "Got a good shave, great but...try going a day or two between, let that five o'clock shadow be an eight a.m. Event. Got to get your hair cut, I can't do that now, go eat and I'll catch up with you later." Kissed him, slapped him on his bare butt and started to close the door...."Almost forgot, no underwear just socks and push the belt buckle down, let the shirt hang on other side but I want those kids to see the new, improved brother."


The bus driver looked at him a little bit oddly, no reason, he just sensed a difference but chalked it up to kids growing up. He said his usual "morning" and they were both shocked to notice his voice had lowered, not much, but enough to be heard as different. This time he did not rack out on the back, he sat dead up talking to himself, trying to hear what the difference was but it was just beyond his ability to hear. In his mind he added all the things this morning as an effect to being fucked and smiled. Alone in the back of the bus, he put his hand over this butt and tried to finger himself through the much worn material. It felt good and, somewhere around him, he thought he heard a laugh and a voice that seemed to say....something, something about things that felt good.


Bill was a good student, better than most but not quite outstanding. The sort of student the football coach never worried about making his grade. First thing in the morning Coach Webster taught a civics class that was mandated by the state and generally regarded as one of the most boring classes in school. Most of them didn't take math or the minimal science required so this was the bottom of their educational barrel. Only that Webster taught it made it tenable and only then because he had the power of life and death, figuratively speaking, in the athletic department. Whatever your sport, Webster was the Athletic Director in addition to the football coach and a negative word from him not only put you on the bench but quite possibly out for the season. For that reason, and that reason alone, Civics was well attended with almost a zero absence rate.


Today, however, the room was absent Coach Webster but had Vice Principal Howell and a new man. Howell calmed everything then made a little speech. Without saying what had happened-they would find out when they got home and watched the news or heard their parents discuss "it", Coach Webster was gone. In his place would be this new gentleman whose name was....Howell stumbled, stopped and the man picked it up.

"The whole name, too long, I am French Canadian so let us call me Coach Pierre, I'm replacing Coach Webster in all his capacities."


Shock, gasps of breath, amazement went round the room.Webster was a fixture, destined to be there until he was buried under the goal posts during a homecoming game. But now....Coach Pierre?


Except to one student who was having trouble containing himself. While he did not know Coach Pierre, he sure as hell knew"Coach Jack" and caught the wink from him.


It's hard being the only one who cannot laugh but that's where Bill was. Around him there was almost a steady babble of incoherent, pointless chatter. "Coach Pierre" let that run on as he thanked the vice principal, smiled at the class, picked up a pointer (known to him as he'd been a student here too many years ago)as Webster's Dick. With one quick flick of his strong wrists, he snapped it down causing it to break in half on the desk. "Alors, a new regime she begins, no? I think oui. And now, let me see this book they have given me to teach to you." There was a pause while he consulted a sheet and the the book...."Ah, oui, yes, the Mississippi purchase. Something sneaky Americains stole from foolish France. Did you know that the way the French first populated what they were about to sell were with what was known as 'Filles de Casquet', young ladies of no standing, actually prostitutes. Those became the distant relations of the fine residents of New Orleans."He had everyone's attention save one young man who felt his fresh shaved face, popped open another button and, though it was difficult to do sitting down, pushed down the waist on his pants just a bit.


Coach Pierre removed his coat, his tie and undid a few buttons on his shirt. You could hear the guys say, "Fuckin' A, we got ourselves a stud for a coach." Whereas the young ladies didn't give a damn about coaching but the stud part....was certainly of interest. Class began.


Some hours later, after practice, the team got a much closer look at the coach when he stripped and showered with them. No one, not one guy, could even match him in any department from looks to package. He was the total package in every way. Even turning to push the lever to get some soap his dong slapped the guy next to him, an accident for which he apologized. It was very, very quiet in the shower room although, if they could have read a mind, they would have found that Coach Pierre was tempted to sing that most famous of French Voyageur songs, "Alouette". In one appearance he'd annealed the team, something the vanished Webster could never have done. Pierre while careful not to be "one of the guys" did provide leadership that started with his cock and good looks and went right on to his intelligence. And that was day one.


Later, in their closet, Bill found Jack again hanging on the wall but this time as a more typical demon, cloven hooves, horns, a tail, broad chest with a chain woven through the flesh, goatee and slanted eyes that looked....painful. It was just a moment until Jack returned-or Coach Pierre-and grabbed his brother saying, "Well, I found a way to go to school with you." And laughed. Bill had to ask..."What happened to Webster? You didn't kill him or anything did you?"


"No, why bother he'll do that later tonight, want to watch? Brother Bill, learn something here; Everyone has secrets, some are good, some are bad and some....are incriminating. Such was the case with the now absent Webster. Did you know he took pictures of all you guys in the shower? In the locker room? At times he'd fondled some of the kids not able to resist him and desperate to make the team?" Bill gagged. Webster? The fat, ponderous buffoon with his too hearty laugh, his plays that lost games and, as he thought about it....some players who might have been considered "special" to him.


"Just what you're thinking, yep, he was fucking, more like raping some of the students. I thought so when I played for him years ago but...at that age proof is impossible and like every school rumour, is questionable. Like the permanent one that saintly Mrs.Wynn who taught Home Ec was a lesbian. Completely wrong, what she was and is is a nymphomaniac who doesn't care which sex she gets it from."


Bill was having trouble accepting all this, not that he disbelieved it, but he was in overload in terms of information."Webster's going to off himself tonight?"

"Yeah, and because he's a fool he'll not do it well and hang there for half an hour until he croaks." Jack paused and an idea, not a nice one, ran through his head. "Hey, how about as our tribute to the old mutherfucker, we show up and, after he's started to dangle, let him see two men fucking, it'd be his last memory on earth." And almost fell over with laughter. "The old cunt, fuck, we gotta do it, bro, give him the send off he so richly deserves, remind him of the sin he committed to bring him to where he is....prosaic."


Bill genuinely did not want to do this. Demons maybe and they would have had a good reason but what Jack wanted....he couldn't do it and told his lover demon as much. He was understood, it was too much too soon; Jack knew that in time Bill would be able to put the noose around the neck and kick away the ladder but not tonight.However he did make one request that could have been seen as a command; He wanted Bill to go with him, to watch him do something he thought he'd understand.


When they got there, Webster was already hanging, shit and piss coming out of his pants, his legs bicycling the air hoping for one last chance but, of course, there were none. By then Bill had seen some of the pictures, been disturbed to find he was is in one or two of them and so his sentiments had hardened. Told to stay quietly in a surround of bushes, Demon Jack moved away from him and turned himself to the figure that had been hanging in the closet, the red fur, cloven feet, long, long tongue that had a spade at the end, horns, eyes that were red, hands that had claws......If hadn't already been dying, it would have killed Webster.


"In the end the coward are you. Plucked the cherries of lots of little boys, boys who could not refuse you, for whom you were too strong. Well, coward Webster, I am here to welcome you to your next life and all those in descent that will follow. Just for a moment, I'll take your pain, make the rope seem slack but only for a moment. There's something I want from you as a demonstration of a loss of innocence from those who should not yet lose it. Do you know what you did? The deaths you caused? The lives you wrecked? Demons come for you and for the good but they protect one and prosecute the other. You have some questions to answer and to refuse....."Immediately in front of them there was a hole from which licked fires of all colours....even at a distance Bill could feel some of the heat.

"Who did you most enjoy fucking?"

There was a silence. "Once more, who did you most enjoy fucking taking his cherry, buggering him, who? There is always one."

Again the silence and then Jack's tongue shot out, burned off Webster's clothes and proceeded to brand his chest with a terrible figure. "Who...."

Now in agony he squeaked out a name....."Jim". It was not enough for the demon, "Jim Who?".

One word, "Ostertag".

"Jim Ostertag.....did a little more to him didn't you.Fucking wasn't enough, making him blow you wasn't enough, enough came when you tied him to an X and whipped him and the only reason you didn't kill him was that you broke your wrist; Am I right Webster?"

The former coach hung there completely debased his own waste dripping from him.


"The ballad of Jim Ostertag, you got so lucky, his parents were killed and you, benevolent soul, took him in. Into your dungeon, into his nightmares, into your fondest and wildest imaginations. He didn't even plead, he just started at you, that, Webster, was your condemnation and when you could not bear that, you blinded him with the brand you used all over him."


Silence can have substance, not seen but there. Bill had heard it, vaguely remembered about Jim and whatever happened to him.The coach had told the cops his sorrow was so great he'd run off....they never found him. At once Bill was up and running toward this hated man, this devil, this person who might have killed him....and in that moment he became the twin to his brother, forked tongue, cloven hooves, hairy thighs, horns and long, sharp teeth. He stood there, on the other side of the pit no knowing what to do but wanting, wishing......In his mind he heard Jack's calm voice telling him he loved him, he could walk over the pit in fact, stand in the middle and let the green and orange fire surround him, let it burn of that coat of fur to reveal one of gold....then he would know what he must do next.


It was just that way. In the fire he could see the man hanging and realized that even hanging was a coward. He could not be punished enough but he would do what he now knew he had to do. In determined steps, his golden fleece glinting in the fire, he walked to the hung man, leaned over and ripped off his cock with his teeth. A voice in him said to leave the balls but to take the cock to Jack which he did. Surrounded in the demonic strength he speared the cock on his tongue and held it out. Jack took it and advanced on the man while Bill followed him hoping there was more justice to be done.


In his hands, the ripped away penis grew larger fatter, on the edge of shooting. Jack watched until he knew it was ripe and then...stuck it in the fat old fools ass. Then turned and walked away, his arm around Bill. "He feels pain now, all the pain of all the good men he violated." Behind them was a terrible noise, a tornado of agony, the final understanding that he'd caused pain and would suffer in pain.....forever. Jack turned around suddenly.

"Bill, I need to take you, now, here, at the edge of the pit, as this, not as Jack...." His forked tongue went into Bill's mouth, his forked dick invaded his ass and it was...wonderful. Bill backed into him, finding muscles he didn't know he had, clinging to that red, hot, forked cock, screaming for pain, screaming for the seed of the devil, screaming for his brother to make him like him.


And then the rope broke, Webster fell to the ground, the fire went out, Bill and Jack were themselves, Jack on top of his little brother who had had an experience he hadn't planned on for several months if ever but...it had been done. Bill was out cold, his clammy body still dripping a few golden scales when Jack picked him up and carried him away from the scene.



The next morning, almost before he was out of bed, his father rushed in holding a newspaper, wild eyed with concern. "Had he....? Did he.....? He must tell him....." and the answer was a simple "no", never. If you listened you might have heard the chuckling of something coming from a closet. What Bill could have told his father would have probably killed him whether he could believe it or not. All over town boys were being wakened, dragged from bed, being interviewed by police who believed they'd been photographed, violated. But not Bill, with a sangfroid that Jack admired, he told them nothing was wrong, never had been. He needed to get up, ready for school oh, one thing, when his father was by a place that sold cut throat razors, get one, he wanted to learn how to use it. Flustered, his father left the room just before a strong hand opened a closet door. Jack was smiling at him, "Well done, well done indeed. Some advice and then I gotta get out of here to go take up my job as 'Coach Pierre', be somewhat shocked at school, it's going to be expected and anyway, the concept of having classes today with the hot breath of scandal on the whole place is a farce. Oh, I picked out some things for you to wear....." He crossed the room.Bill, still nude, stiffened. "No time, get that soldier back in line but later...." then kissed him deeply. "Good call about the razor, proud of you." Then went back in the closet followed by bill who found it empty save for a sack which, he assumed, was for him.Same low riding, tight jeans but this time a turtle neck that fitted him like a coat of paint even to displaying his newly forming nipples. Boots, of course, and a ring with a strange device to which was attached a note, "wear on thumb".


Even the bus driver had to ask if he'd heard and that was just the opening salvo in what would prove to be a day long shit storm of confusion, adults trying to seem adult, kids rabid to know the whole story and Bill, who knew the whole story, walking around just shaking his head as if in disbelief rather that boredom. One exciting thing, the PA system announced that at One, all the boys involved in sports were to report to the gym, no exceptions, a roll would be taken. Bill wondered what exactly that might be about but he had a good guess as to what might happen. One thing of which he was sure, "Coach Pierre" was doubtless going to be involved.


He was. Dressed in his shorts, a tank top, both of which had the school emblem, "Pierre" looked grave, reserved. For his second day, this was a lot except, as Bill knew, he was ahead of this one whatever it was. Just to fill out the adult contingent Vice Principal Howell was once again there as spokes person. In a gaggingly awful speech that left everyone confused as to what he was trying to say, he tried to overview the events of the last few days, give them a very watered down dossier of events and then explain that, the previous day, beloved Coach Webster had succumbed,services were pending. Of course no explanation of how he succumbed was offered nor were questions accepted on the topic. Bill exchanged quick glances with "Pierre" who had a look of consternation and sorrow on his face.


In what must have been achingly hard for him, Howell explained that it was felt that the young men in the school should know, should know some things that it was felt they should know. He followed that illogical statement with the fact that they'd all been gathered here, privately, because they were men and not women. There was a rill of tittering. Howell stumbled on. Anyway, he said, anyway, Coach Pierre although new to the staff had gallantly offered to give the boys a sort of well, a chat of a sort about things that the adult faculty thought they should know if they didn't know already.He was looking at 70 or 80 blank faces when Coach Pierre stood up, thanked him and said he felt he could take it it from there so if Mr.Howell had other duties.......If they'd greased the floor he couldn't have left faster. Everyone seemed relieved.


Pierre/Jack knew there was no point in concealing anything up to a point-the point being the manner of the coach's demise. He sat on a table facing the group and said, "What we need to talk about is fucking." There was a gasp which he let pass. "I know that's not a polite word but what happened here wasn't polite.Webster is gone because over the years he fucked some of the students, fondled others and had some perform oral sex, that's a blow job, on him." He paused because what he had to tell them next was the real bomb shell.


"There's more. He had cameras rigged in the locker rooms, the toilets, the showers any place he thought he might film you naked." He paused realizing it hadn't quite sunk in.

"There are pictures of some of you in this room naked, naked and playing with each other in the showers, nothing that doesn't happen but it was photographed and that was wrong. I'd like to show you one or two so you can understand some things. This is something I'm sorry I have to do but...." he got down from the table and walked toward Bill...."I'm going to ask for a volunteer whose pictures were prominently taken and displayed in the coach's home." He had reached Bill. "Son, the pictures are of you. I'm gonna let you see them and if you will, I'll show them to the other men just so they'll understand what might have happened to some of them." Jacks arm was around his shoulder as he guided him to the table where, no one had noticed, there was a stack of large, white sheets of paper.


In his ear he could hear say, this is a reputation maker, just do it, smile and laugh, make a joke about your worst angle.....Bill flexed his shoulder to tell him he was with the program. At the table and so the others couldn't see them, he turned them over for Bill. If you wanted to be shocked, and he didn't, you could be. It was him, naked, in a shower, washing his dick, talking to another guy who was also fiddling with his balls but whose face had been blotted out. One of him leaning over in the locker room, his ass nicely in view, a few others, but almost the sort of snaps that get taken at a frat house initiation.


"Sure, Coach, I got better than these of me at home...." and held up the one of his ass. They laughed and then....applauded. One by one and without a word he held them up and made sure all of them saw them. When he was done, Jack gave his shoulder a squeeze and let him sit down.


It was easier then, easier for all of them. Pierre/Jack gave them a very direct lecture on pedophilia sparing no details. He demanded they ask questions and asked them to verify that they fully understood, not only the actions but the lures that led to the actions. In his white shorts, just a little bulge, and white tank top he seemed a maestro on the top of bad things to avoid. Equally, he gave time to what men could and sometimes did with each other only saying he'd done it, too. Jerking off with a buddy, wondering what sex with a buddy might be like, maybe they'd tried. IF, and he was specific, anyone had any private questions, they could always come to him, no holds barred, no question too dumb and, most of all, fuck embarrassment. He'd been young, he'd done a lot adding, as a coda at the end, "I am, after all French". If the elected officials of anywhere could have been elected by the guys in that room, Pierre would have won. He sent them away, telling them to not discuss what had happened in this room not because anything bad had but because to discuss it was to bring down on them a shit storm of of adults worrying that they'd been harmed by the truth. Some guys came over to shake his hand, several gave him high fives but it was obvious that in fifteen short minutes he'd bonded with them as men and members of the teams.


Bill hung back. "You know you were terrific.... and it's going to come back. Some of those guys have parents who live in the Nineteenth Century, when they go home and quote you.....".

"They'll be after my scalp but I cleared all that with Howell in advance, it's all on tape so if they object, let them.There's the small matter of who let Webster get away with this all those years, chew on that one....the school board and administration is." He had his arm around Bill, perfectly acceptable in light of how he'd used those pictures. There was a question in Bills mind...."How did you get the one of my ass? To take that, someone would have had to have been....." and he looked at Jack and smiled. "It was a set up, you knew yesterday, in the shower with all of us, that's when those pictures were taken." Jack smiled a devilish smile. "Some day I'll have a whole album of you doing things you never learned in school. Go back and listen to all the shit and take your bows for being so brave, such a good sport, Scat...."

"Will you come out of the closet tonight and fuck me?"

Jack just smiled and brushed over the crotch of his pants. Looking down Bill could see what he'd done, turned and....no one was there. Nothing to do but open the door to the hall, see what was going on and prepare for a lot of questions.


In a strange turn of events, his parents, both of them, were waiting for him near where he would normally take the bus. They were weepy and shocked that he'd been so exposed but proud of him for probably saving other children (he cringed) from being used like that. But those pictures! They hadn't seen them. Bill interrupted, saying only that they weren't likely to, they were part of a police investigation and, as such were evidence. (Mentally he thanked Jack for whispering that in his brain.) Just to turn the tide, he offered to pose, naked for them if that's what they wanted. All conversation on the topic stopped with the exception of his mother huffing, "well, really, one would think you'd enjoyed something like that." They drove away in silence while Bill thought, yeah, if an opportunity came up to show it all off, and Jack were there, sure, he'd do it.The smile he got from that realization shocked his father as he could see it in the rear view mirror. Their son was changing, almost before their eyes. One thing, he handed back a package to his son saying only to be careful with that thing....Bill smiled at the new razor knowing he'd have expert instruction and if any blood was let....there'd be an audience for it.


Claiming homework and disliking dinner which he thought of as crème de slop, he went to his room asking for little privacy as he had a tough trig exam. It was granted as this was their favourite night for television. IF jack showed up the two of them could have dropped barbells on the floor and attracted no attention.But Jack wasn't there. The closet was empty save a note that floated down from somewhere that said he had to play Coach Pierre for a while, to do his homework, do something he liked to do, like sit in the closet and jerk off and enjoy his own production. Bill smiled, even in the middle of totally pointless educational matters, Jack could not resist encouraging him to an activity that had sex, not learning, at its base. Fuck trig, he got naked, sauntered into the closet, picked up one of Jack's socks, leaned back and began a long, slow jerk.


Jack/Pierre and the various people who showed up who"wanted a word with him" took longer than he'd thought. As he'd known there were two radically polarized groups, those who felt he'd done a brilliant job and those who felt he'd exposed young boys to words and deeds about which they needed to know nothing. Oddly it was Vice Principal Howell who took that one and asked the more outraged if they wanted their sons to be used as the boys who proceeded them had? Did they want them raped? Forced to perform oral sex, allowed to do things of which none of them were aware but...as they went through the thousands of pictures, would find out. Oh, and if their son was amongst those photographed nude did they want to know? It was a frustrating question as it forced them to acknowledge something they did not believe existed to exist. What if their Joe or Sam or Alex was on Kodachrome or 16 millimeter just doing what he was supposed to do but the pictures of him doing that were now the stuff of men's sexual fantasies. And, yes, they'd discovered Webster had been "sharing" with a small but devoted group who enjoyed little boys and not so little boys. Like it or not, some of their sons not to mention decades of sons were now part of pornography and they could complain until the cows came home but they could not stop it.Jack/Pierre took a swipe at this own personal bete noir, FaceBook, and pointed out that the soft porn, the sexing that their children could put there, or see that which other children had, was there forever and there was no protection.



That brought a hush. He planned that it would. After all, in his own piquant way he knew things about some of the fine upstanding folks in the room that would have boiled the swimming pool were it to be known. It wouldn't be but....it remained a fact to know, one of those little known facts about well known people.Finally, tearing himself away, he said if they wanted to make appointments with him they could, but, remember please he was an active teacher and coach and his time was very limited. This infuriated some but...there was nothing they could do. Excusing himself, he said he wanted to get started on his ride home before the promised rain could come down, always making the road hazardous for bikers. Just what sort of bike he didn't say.


He found a very sleepy Bill in their space. Naked, cum on his legs, what he'd been up to was obvious as was the sock he held but never used. For his own pleasure he sat down by his brother, leaned over and started to lick the dried elemental fluid from the man he loved. Bill came around, put his hand on Jack's's head, leaned over, kissed it and then leaned back to enjoy the feeling of his oddly textured tongue on his legs, his abdomen and finally gently taking his balls in his mouth and rolled them in warm fluid. His subject was too tired to resist anything, even when he slipped cuffs on him and hung him upside down, his arms stretched to the ground, his legs tied apart. He fucked him in just that position and then was when Bill began to discern the correlation between pain and pleasure and how, if applied by one you loved, they were the same.


At the end, Jack took him down, carried him to bed, laid him softly there, waved his fingers over his eyes. Not only did he go to sleep with the amazing feeling of what had happened but...his eyelashes grew very imperceptibly. As usual, Jack made sure he was well, safe and wandered around the town learning, finding out, listening and finally returning to their closet where he hung himself upside down, his considerable cock dripping, dripping his own sauce into his mouth.


The days before Christmas went very quickly; There was a dance at school to which Jack went as the most popular chaperon and Bill went stag as the most popular one of those. Seems word of what he looked like au naturel had reached some of the young ladies all of whom were determined to find some way to do their own examination.Bill was courteous, pleasant looking, not yet handsome-strange, no one had ever really noticed that-but clearly not interested in just one girl. This made him both popular and unpopular, depended on what you wanted and what you thought you could get. Jack also recognized a group of young men who watched Bill as well. They weren't his enemy but he thought it would be a good idea to pair them off, as much as was possible, to spare Bill any uncomfortable moments in the future when one of the them "confessed" their feelings for him.


But if there was one sensation it was Jack. For a somewhat casual dance, yes, the boys wore suits, the girls their new heels, Jack showed up in a form fitting tuxedo of a black so deep it was almost hard to see it, dancing pumps, his hair his usual tangled mass of locks, in short, perfectly turned out. Some noticed that his pants did seem to have a strange sort of, well, bulge, where his genitals were. The guys on his teams and in his gym classes knew there was a bulge and why it was there. Few coaches had ever been more popular and, beyond his abilities, a stud and a half. In the one game he'd coached, they'd won by forty points, a reverse from the previous year when they'd lost by thirty five. Carrying coach on their shoulders, his legs slightly spread, his "bulge" at once a prize for them and a fuck you to the other team. Holding one of his legs, Bill squeezed his calf and knew why in spite of the cold, he'd worn coaching shorts, no jock, just what was there.


At home that night, Jack had Bill spread eagled on his bed and began to show him how to use a lash, a quirt but, not yet, the whip. When he whimpered in pain, Jack kissed the back of his neck and promised he'd find it better eventually. After that, and they'd showered, Jack had a question, one he'd somewhat avoided but only because he knew it would put pressure on his brother.


"You know, it's a custom to give presents at this time of the year. I've tried to think what I might give you but maybe it's better if you give me some suggestions...."

Bill broke into tears, "....If I could give you something but....I can't. So it isn't fair".

"Little bro, you give me your love, your body, your sex, your youth, the pleasure of watching you grow, the sneakiness of letting me grow you up a little faster in some ways...." and he fondled his groin. "The little shrine you made for me, that's the biggest gift I ever got, meant you'd never forgotten me, not ever nor would you so come on, I promise, I'll think of something you can give me but until then...what would you like?"


It was a quandary as Bill figured he could give him almost anything, no restraints. Every guy wants a car but how to explain it? Clothes? Same problem. He was a quiet person, never needed much, never asked for much and the last several years while his parents dragged on in their unending mourning quest for Jack, he'd been pretty much forgotten. If he really needed something, new shoes for growing feet, they'd get them for him but in terms of thinking of him....wondering what would make him happy? No. Bill got used to it, knew they weren't trying to hurt him, just so involved in something he was not he became almost a piece of furniture. There but unnoticed. Jack, however, was quite another set of problems. He knew Jack wanted to give him something, do something for him, and, worse, could do almost anything for him. He sat there, wondering, looking out a window while Jack curled around him, holding him for once not sure where he'd gone in his mind, all he could sense was confusion, love and babble.


Bill finally said something. "You know, the best present I ever got was something I knew the other person wanted me to have. Whatever it was, it had meaning and importance to them so that's what I want from you, something you want me to have, even if it's socks and underwear". And smiled his increasingly magnificent smile. The formative dimples in his chin and cheeks helped. The darkening eyes, now a sapphire blue, the lashes that swept over them....Jack did see the logic if also the problem.


He'd like to give him a lot of things, mainly about six more years in age so he could move away when he'd be well schooled in the demonry of the world, of sex, of life, finish however much school he was going to attend, become more his side kick than his little brother. Be able to show him interesting things to do that ordinary folks don't know and don't need to know....he thought of a dungeon in Izmir...Victoria Falls, long treks on motorcycles but that was for an adult. He knew he could "age him up" but he'd still be sixteen almost seventeen. It would require some thought but, in another area, he knew what to do and did it.


Fuck their mourning, they could mourn to their hearts content but they could also do something for a kid who was so desperately lonely that he had to bring back a demon brother who would now raise him. That resolved, he slipped into his parents bedroom, leaned over his father and told him, no suggestion, what to do and some surrounding details. Rounding the bed he did the same for his mother, just different things, things she would find normal to do if a little out of what she normally did. In their sleep they relaxed having solved a problem they didn't know they had. That completed, he stopped by Bill to see that he was warm, dreaming of a football championship and smiled when he saw that, once again, he was hoisting Coach Pierre on his shoulder.


By chance he'd run into a fellow demon who was stuck with what he described as the dullest family in the world and was beyond grateful when Jack suggested they go out and fuck the shit out of each other. Twice. Then go get a beer.



The days to Christmas went by more quickly than usual.Bill always had something to anticipate when he woke up even if often he was wakened by a tongue or fingers in places not normally used to rouse some one. Arouse, yes, rouse, no. Jack, too, was finding things to do, hovering over and with Bill wasn't all that good just yet although there would come a time when separation would be nearly impossible. Via his newly found demon friend who had a dull family, he met some others of his sort and they conspired to amuse themselves both in irritating those who needed irritation and gently doing things that made a life better if in a less obvious way.


Christmas Eve day, Jack made a point to hang around the house, just being with Bill, telling him amusing things he'd learned about the town and some of the citizenry. Showing him things he could do that he would enjoy, continuing his education in how to dress for various purposes and, of course, how to dress to thrill, something Jack had to almost avoid doing. Even as "Coach Pierre" he was careful to make sure his shorts weren't too short, when he was out on the field he was bundled up although he really wasn't bothered by heat or cold and when he showered with the guys to do so in a casual way, not making anything of his doing it but aware they were all watching him. There had been some flack about this, some parents thought an "adult" showering with children had "overtones".Again, Howell came to his rescue and pointed out that in virtually every school he knew of, the coach showered with his team who, by the way, were young men, not "children".


Just before dusk, Jack told Bill to lay down, try and nap for few moments which Bill found odd but complied. At least he lay down. But not for long. There was the sound of a car horn, loud and persistent from the driveway. Bill got up, looked out his window and there was his father....with a brand new car. Out of curiosity, he went downstairs and was stunned to find it was for him. Not only that, but it was hardly some second hand junker, barely rising to the appellation, "transportation", this was an almost new Chevrolet Camaro, black with gleaming red upholstery. His parents seemed to be delighted he was pleased, stunned was closer to the truth, and he was encouraged to hop in, if he had his license, and take it for a spin.They stood there waving, smiling at him as he backed out and, after he'd driven away, wondered why on earth they'd done that, bought him a car, and that car....but he seemed happy and for those few moments it was as if Jack, their dead son, seemed to smile on them, tell them they'd done a good day. Given that, Christmas Eve seemed almost....happy.


Less than a block away Bill saw "Coach Pierre"walking and, of course offered to give him a ride.

"Bright eyes, almost too out of breath with amazement looked at his older brother and spit out...."You did this, you put this into their minds, hell, they'd never even by a new car for themselves much less one like this. I want to kiss you for it."

"Don't this is a public street and I'm suddenly pretty well known. To all appearances, I'm your coach whom you saw walking and are showing your new car. Right?"

"Right. Can I take it someplace quiet and where you won't be noticed?"

Jack got his slightly evil smile and suggested that two blocks up they turn right and he'd find some place Bill might like.All along one of the things he'd planned on introducing to Bill was the illicit joy of fucking in public not to mention occasionally fucking the public. He knew you couldn't start out as publicly as he had in mind but out of doors, near an expressway with the vague possibility that two men humping each other might just be seen by a fast moving vehicle....that would do for a start. Later, when he got home, he explained the dirt and bits of dead plant life on him as the result of a fall in somebody's driveway.....they bought it.


Dinner that evening was actually good. His mother had remembered all the things Jack liked and with tears in her eyes, made them. Once done she was almost relieved...what they were consisted of just things she'd made all the time, even if some of them were his favourites, until....but then they'd taken on an almost sanctified aura, not to be eaten for fear of .... something. But this night the three of them enjoyed dinner and, for a change, seemed to enjoy each.The car, predictably, was the centre of conversation but their happiness is his pleasure was palpable. Without bothering to clear the dishes they all went to the room where the tree was, amazed at how beautiful it was, not remembering doing it just that way but....oh well, it was lovely, reminded them of how Jack would have liked it and that was comforting. For a moment or so they tried to sing carols but that devolved into laughter as they all knew they couldn't sing.


Into this Bill brought out his present for them. It was large, rectangular and somewhat heavy. When opened there was a portrait of Jack, smiling, happy, in his army fatigues, not on the field of battle but the way they seemed to remember him. Tears, arms thrown around Bill, questions about where he'd got it, how had he had it made...but that was all forgotten in the joy of having it. That it was no staid portrait made it more real to them, there was a sense of they were all together and he'd turned to look just as a camera took his picture. It was a calming picture, it had memories but nothing of the tragedy that was to come; When he'd come home on leave he'd worn clothes just like that, laughing he'd got them for free so might as well use them up.... Tomorrow, Christmas, they'd all find the perfect place to hang it. In the minds of his parents it somehow completed the family and it was Bill, wonderful Bill, who'd done it. Made the car seem like almost too little to have done. They turned but he was gone, up the stairs...probably to call a friend and brag about the car.


The closet was empty. He stood there for a moment hoping that Jack would make an appearance but...that didn't happen. He thought, maybe the bed but it, too, was empty. It was then he realized how desperately his demon brother had become to him. Not for all the amusing things he could do, not because he could make his body better but because he loved the sex with his brother. It seemed so horrible but....then....it wasn't. Jack had taught not only to love sex but, as he thought about it, to love in general. That night, at the table, his parents seemed to like him, respect him and that was all thanks to Jack although in ways they wouldn't have understood.


He thought...having your own private demon was like having a genie who came out of the bottle, well, the closet, when you wanted him. Say some magic spell an he appeared but he didn't. Just to make sure he checked the closet, under the bed but, no, empty.Almost automatically he took off all his clothes, something two weeks ago he wouldn't have done, walked to the shower-maybe Jack was there but he wasn't-had the good kind of shower he'd been taught to have.Paused to stick his finger up to give his prostate a bump. Back to his room, empty. Naked, dry he had two choices, go back and take another shower or get in bed. Actually there was a third choice but he had yet to think of it. He pulled a blanket-seldom needed now that Jack so often with him-and sat in the window seat where he'd spent so many hours thinking about his brother. But tonight, nothing. The house was quiet, his parents asleep, he had that alone feeling. Maybe Jack had done all he came to do. There were tears, he picked up the blanket and headed for the first and last place, the closet. The memorial was gone, he couldn't find a pair of while socks just the silence and the dark and in those two things lie sleep.


When, he didn't know but he felt his face being lifted by a familiar hand. Jack. "You little devil, you thought I'd left you, admit it" and Bill nodded his head, he had. "But I can't leave you, didn't I explain that? I'm yours. You own me...well, in a sense. I'm never going away unless you go away in which case I go with you. Don't you get it? I'm your forever demon. Now, come here, let me pick you up and take you to bed and fuck you, your first Christmas fuck. Then we'll get to gifts. Bill was ago and almost ran to the bed.


As they settled in Jack told him, again, that he could never go away, he was his forever. But the demon part was that he could never have another man, no matter how badly the guy wanted him.No lover, no casual affairs. Sure, as he grew older, he'd meet guys with whom he'd form close, very close friendships. Maybe even have some low grade sex like hand jobs or maybe even a suck or two but nothing serious. The man who tried to take him by force....Jack's eyes got red....the horns appeared....Bill got the idea. But...all he wanted was Jack. His eyes cooled and he reached for his possessor.


"You so understand, I knew you would but sooner rather than later. Time to give you your writ of possession, every demon possessors has one. It proves that for all time you have a demon. Lay back, this will hurt."


It was if he'd been scalded and then scalded again. Five times. Once on the head of his cock, his forehead, his palms and his belly. Waiting for the fire to go out, Jack held him and explained he now had the outline of the pentagram, the sign of the demon. Not filled in, never would be but now Jack was his as he had put the mark and Bill had accepted it.


Bill smiled a stupid, happy smile, forever, Jack was his forever.


"And one more thing for when we fuck...look at your cock."


It was much longer, red and at the end where the head once was, the point of a sharp instrument. "You can't see them now but when you're in me, there are little hard, fleshy hooks that you can push out and hold me in you. Oh, and I have those as well."


That was his present, forever with his demon brother. He grabbed a pillow, put it under his tummy and said, "Demon, I command you to fuck me, put your hooks in me and make me cry with pleasure and, please, dear demon, can you grow me up fast?"


As he sank into him he thought of a way that would allow him to skip his senior year and, while he was at it, gave his cock just a touch more and started a well formed shag of hair on his chest. Because he was a demon he could do all that while taking his possessor on a long, long trip guided by his cock. He kissed the back of his man's neck...forgetting he was once a little boy playing with socks on the floor.

 

PJ

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