Don't be misled by the title of this story. This is a story about incest and domination between brothers and their parents. If you don't like stories about a boy dominating and controlling and having sex with his various family members, you definitely won't like this, so don't read it. If you're not of legal age you shouldn't be here anyway, so go somewhere else. To all others, I hope you enjoy it. (Duane/aka: Gladiatorkid)

Mommy and Daddy and Me

Chapter One

Jeremy was just nine months older than me, but you know how big brothers can be. He was a real shit, and lorded it over me all the time. Maybe we could have been friends but Jeremy would have none of it. He had to be the boss; he had to be in charge and he loved picking on his little brother. So he beat me up on a regular basis just to let me know that he was in charge.

Jeremy was born tall and I was born short, and although that changed later, it was quite a difference when we were children, and he took advantage of that difference. Jeremy had dark, almost black hair like his father, and I started out as a toe-head, which later turned light brown, almost blond like my mother. And, Jeremy could do no wrong. As far as my parents were concerned, he was the sweetest little boy on the planet and they doted on him. They somehow never seemed to notice that he beat me up all the time, and if they did notice it, they somehow figured I must have deserved it. Every time I complained to them, they made excuses for him and actually told me if I behaved and didn't get him all stirred up, he wouldn't pound on me. They punished me regularly, but never once do I remember of a single occasion when they punished Jeremy. He kept beating on me but I couldn't do anything, so, eventually, I quit complaining and just endured it.

This is gonna sound kinda weird, but I don't think my parents loved me. There, I said it. I don't think they loved me. Of course I've heard about firstborns and how some parents get really hung up on them and ignore their other kids. Well, that was definitely the case with us. Jeremy was loaded with love and affection all the time, getting all of their attention, while they didn't seem to know that I even existed.

For example, I remember one time when I came home from school with a glowing report card that I was so excited about. I was only ten years old at the time.

"Daddy, Daddy" I exclaimed as I found him in the living room watching TV, a soap opera or something. "Look what I got" I said waving the card in front of him.

"Look out, Jerod. You're blocking my view" he said as he pushed me aside.

"But, Daddy. Look at my report card. Look what I did" I said excitedly. "Look!"

"Not now, Jerod. I've got to watch this program. Show it to your mother." I was too wound up to let him dampen my enthusiasm too much, so I went looking for my mother. Although I didn't know it at the time, she was out visiting our next door neighbor so I couldn't find her.

But I knew exactly what to do. I put my report card on the dining room table right where she always sat, so she'd see it before she sat down for dinner. Then I went up to my room to play video games. However, not more than five minutes later I scurried back down wondering if the dining room table was really the best place to put it so she'd see it right away. So I moved it to the kitchen counter right where she'd be preparing dinner so it would be the first thing she would see when she came in to the kitchen. I couldn't wait for her to see it.

When Mommy finally called me down for dinner I could barely control my excitement, but as I started into the dining room I saw Jeremy standing there with the biggest, brightest smile on his face you can imagine, looking like a little cherub, with Mommy giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Oh, Jeremy, this is wonderful" she said as she kissed him. "I'm so proud of you."

Standing next to her was Daddy looking at Jeremy's report card. "Congratulations, Jeremy. This is excellent work. You should be very proud." Of course Jeremy stood there beaming, and when he saw me standing there he smiled even more, smug with the knowledge that he getting their attention and I wasn't. Mommy and Daddy didn't even seem to notice as I walked through the room into the kitchen, and there on the counter was my report card, unopened, with some stains on if from the dinner preparations.

Of course I went up to my room crying and refused to come down for dinner even though Mommy called me several times. Later on in the evening I got a spanking from Daddy for not doing what I was told.

This report card thing is only one example of the way Mommy and Daddy treated us differently.

Another example was when Jeremy broke our bike. Yes, our bike; there was only one. I got to use it only when Jeremy let me, which wasn't very often.

Jeremy had been playing with some friends and was trying to stand on the seat. I didn't see it happen but I heard he crashed into a tree, bent the front wheel and dented the fender. He also tore his shirt and got some scrapes on his arm and shoulder.

The first I heard about it was when I got home from school the next day, and Daddy was waiting for me. I pleaded my innocence but he paid no attention and punished me anyway, and actually giving me a black eye. I mean, was he blind? Didn't he or Mommy see the scrapes on his arm or his torn shirt? Were they too stupid to make the connection between that and the broken bike?

When I tried to confront Jeremy, he laughed at my black eye, and beat me up again. And, he wouldn't let me use the bike for a couple weeks, even after they got it fixed.

These events were not that unusual. They treated Jeremy like a Prince and they treated me like shit.

So, as you can see, they didn't love me. And they loved Jeremy a lot. Up to this time; that is when I was ten and Jeremy was not quite eleven; he had lorded it over me because he was older and taller, and he always won when we wrestled. He'd get me down on the floor twisting my arm or something, having me screaming in agony while he laughed. I'd have to yell 'I give, I give, I give' over and over before he'd let me go.

Up to that time I didn't know any better and it just seemed to be the correct order of things for me to get beat up by my older brother. He picked on me because he knew Mommy and Daddy would always take his side. He knew he could get away with it, so why not?

But, in fact, Jeremy took after my father who was skinny, and I took after my mother who was what they call 'big boned', just naturally more stalwart. I guess I just wasn't aware of it at the time, but although Jeremy was taller than me, I was becoming huskier than him.

But that report card thing really turned everything upside down. I was really angry, and the anger began to build within me. It was always there, just under the surface, but now it came out full force. I was angry all the time.

But things were about to change.

Something happened that really changed the way I looked at myself and the people around me right about that time. There was this kid at school, Hank, who was always picking on my friend Tommy. Hank was just a bully, but he had a special thing for Tommy who lived just across the street from him.

On the day that changed my life, I was over at Tommy's house and we were throwing the football in his front yard. His backyard was almost nonexistent, so we had to use the front yard. Hank must have had a bug up his ass that day because he came across the street.

"What the fuck" he said to Tommy. "You fuckin think Coach Ryley is going to let a skinny fuck like you on our fuckin football team?" As you can see he had a limited vocabulary.

"Leave us alone, Hank" Tommy said. I lived a couple blocks away so I didn't see all the action between Tommy and Hank, but I heard about it a lot. Hank loved picking on little guys, and Tommy was his favorite.

"You telling me what to do, you little fuck" Hank said as he walked up to Tommy. "Huh? You telling me what to do?" Hank gave him a shove.

"Please, Hank. Just leave me alone" Tommy whined.

"Leave him alone, Hank" I said, putting my two cents worth in.

"You shut the fuck up" he said to me, as he tripped Tommy and knocked him down. "Coach don't want to fuckin pansies on our football team." He gave Tommy a kick in the side.

"Hey" I yelled at him. "Leave him alone." I couldn't believe that he'd just kicked Tommy while he was lying on the ground. In my book, that wasn't fighting fair. "What do you think you're doing?" Even though Tommy and I were together a lot, Hank had pretty much ignored me; focusing his bullying on Tommy, who was smaller and skinnier than me.

But now he turned to me. "You stay the fuck out of this, creep" he said to me. "This is between me and this little squirt." He turned back to Tommy and gave him another kick, this time getting him just above the ear.

I was instantly furious, and saw red; bright red. I stepped over to Hank, jerked him around by the arm, and swung. Now, I was right handed and had never swung at anyone with my left hand before, but because I was crazed with anger, I somehow hit him just perfectly and got him squarely on his left eye. Thank God I remembered to make a fist, or I probably would have broken some fingers.

Hank went flying back, landing on the ground on his back and banging his head on our football.

He was stunned from the fall and didn't move and I was beginning to wonder if I'd killed him. But I was stunned as well. I'd actually knocked this bully down with only one punch; the very first time I'd ever tried to hit anyone like that.

Very slowly he seemed to come back to his senses and then he started to cry.

Now, you've got to understand that bullies don't cry. Their reputation would be ruined forever if anyone saw them cry after being hit by another kid. So I knew he was hurting. I wasn't little and skinny like Tommy and I'd put a lot of power into that swing and it'd actually hurt my fist. Hank was going to have one hell of a black eye, but he also must have really banged his head, almost knocking himself out. He just lay there bawling, and I, very slowly, began to smile. I was thrilled. I'd knocked Hank, the local bully, on his ass.

"You broke my eye" he blubbered as he held his hands to his face. I walked over to him, reached down and grabbed his hair, and pulled his head up off the ground. "You touch Tommy again and I kick the shit out of you" I growled at him. He looked up at me with this shocked look on his face as he continued crying, and that's when I found out that I could be pretty damn assertive and self-confident.

Tommy and I just left him there and went into the house. I was still in shock. I couldn't believe that I'd actually knocked Hank down; the bully; the guy who liked picking on littler kids. Then I saw Tommy's face.

He had the biggest look of admiration on his face that I'd ever seen. "That was beautiful, Jerod. You were awesome." Tommy praised me up one side and down the other, and, of course, it went right to my head. I was floating on air. I was a macho-man, a superman. I'd actually beat up the local bully. Tommy and I were ten at the time, and he'd always looked up to me anyway because he was such a little kid, but from that time on it was hero worship all the way.

This event really changed me because I found out that I could stand up for myself, and didn't have to put up with shit from anybody. Tommy and I ran into Hank a few days later, and I was loaded with confidence. Leopards don't change their spots that quickly so he was still being a bully to smaller kids, however he didn't come after Tommy as usual because he was obviously afraid of me. Can you imagine what that did to me, him being apprehensive and fearful in front of me? I loved it. He tried to just ignore us and walk away but I went after him. I chased him and grabbed him and whipped is ass. Just for the hell of it. It was fun.

Did that make me a bully? Probably, but who cares. The buildup in my confidence was intoxicating, and along with Tommy's hero worship, I was flying above the clouds. It changed my life.


So, what was I going to do with this new load of confidence? I decided to have it out with Jeremy.

A couple days later when our parents had gone out somewhere for the evening I decided to have it out with him. Of course I was nervous because he'd always beat me before, but I went into his bedroom anyway, absolutely determined to stop his terrorizing. Kicking Hank's butt had really changed me, and I was loaded with grit and determination. Jeremy was lying on his bed playing with his Gameboy, but looked up as I came in.

"Get out of my room" he growled at me as he continued his game. I just walked up to the bed, grabbed him by the hair, and dragged him off the bed onto the floor and got on my knees on top of him.

I slugged him in the mouth. "Yeeeaaaoooh. Jerod" he screamed. He grabbed my arms, but I got loose and slugged him again. We struggled for a bit and he actually got me off of him, but I had so much anger built up, and for the first time I didn't care that he was older than me. And I didn't care how much he hurt me. We wrestled around for a while, hitting and clawing at each other, and, yeah, I was taking a lot of punishment.

At one point he was on top of me and hitting me, but I was able to grab his arms. And then, through sheer arm strength I was able to push him off. That's when we both realized that although he may have been taller and older than me, I was stronger than he was. I said I was becoming huskier than him, and with that extra beef came strength.

After that it was pretty much downhill because I took control, wrestling him around until I got him down on his stomach with me on top. I grabbed his hair, pulled his head up, and started slamming him in the face. I hit him, and hit him, and hit him, and kept hitting him. I had a whole lot of anger built up in me.

"Jerod" he screamed. "Stop, stop, stop. IgiveIgiveIgive." As I finally got myself under control and stopped hitting him, both of us were panting wildly, and I saw that his face was bloody and so was my hand. I jerked his hair viciously a couple times and then got up off of him. He just lay there crying as I looked down at him.

Finally I grabbed his arm and pulled him over onto his back. Getting on my knees next to him, I grabbed his hair again, and forced him to look at me.

"Don't you ever try to beat me up again, Jeremy. I'm top dog now, and if you try to fuck with me I'll beat you bloody every day of the week." I jerked his hair. "You hear me?"

"Okay, okay, Jerod" he cried. He must have been embarrassed to be crying in front of his little brother, but I knew he was hurting and couldn't stop. "Just let me go."

"I'll let you go when you admit I'm in charge" I said. "Say it."

"Come on, Jerod. Let me up" he sobbed, blood dripping down his face from his bloody nose.

I slugged him again. Not really hard, but just enough to get his attention. "Tell me who's in charge. Tell me whose Boss" I snapped.

"Okay, Jerod. Okay, you're boss" he cried.

"About fuckin time" I said as I got up and walked out of the room.

Jeremy didn't go to school the next day, and after Daddy caught up with me, I couldn't set down for a week, and I had more bruises on my face than Jeremy did. Yeah, than was my Daddy, and Jeremy was his little baby. But I felt really good about it.

There was no doubt that I had now taken over, and Jeremy was never going to be able to beat me again. Of course I had beat him up a few more times, actually a lot more times, to drill it into his head that I was in charge, but he soon realized that I was stronger than he was and he couldn't beat me in a fight. So he finally accepted my superiority and gave up trying to win, and after a few more sessions of me pounding him, he quit arguing with me and started obeying my orders.

And yes, I ordered him around. He'd been a shit to me for years, so I had a lot of catching up to do. But, I was not simply satisfied with just being able to beat him up and be in charge, I wanted him to know that he had to earn my good behavior. I didn't allow him to just keep out of my way, hoping I wouldn't kick his ass, but I gave him a growing list of chores he had to do, things he had to do to keep me from pounding him. And I demanded complete obedience on a day to day basis. His main objective when he got home from school every day was to try to keep me happy. So, it wasn't long before he was doing all my chores, and anything else I wanted him to do.

As you can imagine this didn't set well with Daddy, and I took a few whippings and a whole lot of bruises from him before I trained Jeremy that tattling to Mommy and Daddy only made things worse for him, a lot worse. But I trained him well. He became my obedient little servant. Yes, he was still Mommy and Daddy's little angel, but I was the one that would kick the shit out of him on a regular basis if he didn't do my bidding. Eventually he just accepted that he had to do what I told him no matter what, and basically he just became my dedicated servant, my lackey. I was barely eleven years old, and he wasn't twelve yet. I loved having my very own servant.

The final culmination of all my efforts was the day I entered his bedroom and he literally leaped up off the bed with this shocked and fearful look on his face. Yeah, fearful. Finally, he was afraid of me. And nothing gave me more pleasure than my older brother fearing me. This was exactly where I wanted him.

"Wha... wha... what, Jerod?" he said nervously that day.

"You didn't put those boxes in the garage" I growled at him. "The ones Dad told me to move."

"I'm sorry, Jerod. I didn't... I didn't... I didn't know" his whole body shuddered in apprehension.

"You heard him tell me, didn't you? Didn't you?

"Yes, Jerod. Yes. I did."

"Well that means you. Now get your ass out there and move them."

"Okay, Jerod. Sorry. I'll do it right now." And he was off like a shot to do my bidding, not even taking time to put his shoes on. Of course I was beaming with pleasure. I had him right where I wanted him, and I was going to keep him there. I planned to keep him on edge all the time, so he'd always worry whether he was doing the right things to keep me happy.

When he was finished moving the boxes into the garage he came back and apologized to me. Can you imagine? He apologized for not doing my work for me. I was delighted.

When Jeremy stopped complaining to him, Daddy must have still noticed what was going on but he didn't do anything. He just continued ignoring me, just like always.


What really changed my life was when Uncle Rick came to live with us. Uncle Rick was my Dad's younger brother. He had gotten into some kind of trouble and had been in prison for a couple years, and my father agreed to help get him back on his feet. Jeremy and I each had our own bedrooms upstairs so our parents set up a small room with a bath in the basement for him.

While my Dad was skinny, Uncle Rick was a hunk, and one of the first things he did was to set up a workout room in the basement. He'd been a football player in high school and junior college so had got into major bodybuilding, and while in prison he had really maxed out on his muscles. He saw that I was a natural and got me started lifting weights along with him. I wasn't even thirteen yet but did I ever take off. I must have had the perfect body type to begin with because my muscles were only waiting for their chance to burst out of my clothes, and they did exactly that.

I was looking damn good with muscles showing after only six months and when Uncle Rick moved out a year later, I was catching up to him and I was only fourteen. I was spending my life in the basement and making gains that astonished everybody. Everybody except Daddy, who seemed not to notice, or at least he pretended not to notice. Uncle Rick had been working out ever since his high school football days, over ten years, and he said he'd never seen anybody make the kind of progress I was making.

But Uncle Rick got me started out on something else along with my bodybuilding. Fucking. In fact there was hardly any separation between working-out with him and fucking with him. From the very beginning with Uncle Rick, bodybuilding was a sexual thing.

When I hit puberty, which was about the same time I started working out, one of my very first ejaculations was in Uncle Rick's mouth while I was doing bench presses. From the very beginning we worked out in jockstraps or tiny bikini's and sometimes in the nude, so there was barely ever a workout when we didn't have roaring hard-ons. So, having a hard-on and lifting weights were almost synonymous for me right from the very beginning.

Uncle Rick was unfortunate to be born with a tiny dick, less than six inches, a lot less than six inches, and I was fortunate to be born with a big one, right up there around nine inches. So it was no surprise, and not unusual for a guy with a little peepee like Uncle Rick, that he was wild about big dicks and particularly wild about my big schlong. Actually, although he was a hunk, with a great physique and nice musculature, he'd always been mesmerized by big dicks and loved submitting to big dicked studs. He told me stories about a huge guy in prison, a real dominant stud, who used him as his boytoy. Yeah, big hunky, husky, handsome Uncle Rick, some giant muscleman's boytoy.

So he took me under his wing and started training me, not only in bodybuilding but also in hot domination sex, and I was a natural at both of them. I had a big growth spurt when I was twelve, so I was a pretty big kid to start with, but using my strength and the muscles I was building, and my natural aggressiveness, I took to domination sex like a duck to water, and started fucking Uncle Rick before, during, and after our workouts.

But, of course, I was a novice at both working out and fucking. As much as I loved both activities I was just following Uncle Rick's direction and learning from him. He was molding me into an image of what he thought a dominant muscle stud should be. And that image was of a very young, very cute nephew, who loved to work-out and who loved dominating his Uncle. Uncle Rick didn't expect me to reciprocate, like blowing him or anything, so I didn't. He said submissives got their pleasure from giving pleasure to their dom. I was the top and he was the bottom, always.

Yes, he was a bottom, but while he was training me, he was a dominant bottom. Is there such a thing, a dominant bottom? Actually, he was blowing me a lot, and I was fucking him like a rabbit, but he was the guy who was controlling the action; he was directing me.

But, I was a natural leader and within six months or so I was tired of doing what he wanted, and I wanted to be in charge myself.

After all, Jeremy barely made a move these days without my permission and I liked bossing him around. I'd go into Jeremy's bedroom sometimes and just stand there glaring at him. He'd almost start shaking in dread, but he'd ask me if there was anything he could do for me. Sometimes I did it just to scare him, just for the hell of it, but other times I'd give him a list of things to do. But you have no idea what a charge I got from having him there, nervous as hell, asking what he could do for me. I loved having him fear me and I loved being in charge, so at some point I had to lay down the law to Uncle Rick.

"I'm in charge from now on Uncle" I said to him one day. "From now on you'll do what I say." We'd just finished working out and he'd just given me a blowjob.

"What?" he asked. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm tired of you making all the decisions here. I know what I need, and tomorrow we're going to work arms and shoulders."

"Jerod, that's not on the schedule, and we need to stick to the schedule."

"That's your schedule, not mine. Fuck the schedule. We're working arms and shoulders tomorrow" I said. "And from now on, you'll stop trying to get me hard while I'm working out. I hate it when you grab my dick while I'm in the middle of something. If I want to fuck, I'll tell you I want to fuck."

He tried to buck me the very next day, when he started feeling me up while I was doing curls.

"Get your fuckin hands off of me, damn it" I growled at him. "Didn't I tell you I was in charge now? You don't fuckin do anything without asking me."

"You mean I can't even touch you?" he snickered. "But you're so hot. How can I keep my hands off of you?" He was being a smart ass and I wasn't about to take it.

"Here's how" I said as I put the weights down, reached up, and slapped his face, hard. His whole body shuddered and I know his cock gave a surge.

"Ohhh, Jerod, Jerod" he moaned in delirium. "Oh yeah, Jerod." I think he was close to an orgasm. But that answered one question I had; he not only wanted me to dominate him, he wanted me to slap him around.

Well, that was just fine with me. In fact it was more than fine. I slapped him again. "You wanna touch me, you gotta ask" I said firmly.

"Okay, Jerod. Okay" he gasped, still in the throes of his near ejaculation. "Can I feel you up?"

"No" I said, making sure he knew that I was going to make the decisions. "Get the fuck out of the way. Maybe I'll let you lick my ass when I'm done."

I had never spoken to him like this before, with such confidence and authority, so his body shuddered again in excitement, and as he reached down and barely touched his prick, he started to shoot. His pecker gave a bounce and his first shot got me in the thigh.

"Oh, shit, shit, shit" he grunted as he grabbed his prick and fired shot after shot onto the floor. "Oh shit, Jerod." I just ignored him, picked up my dumbbells and went back to my curls. He was definitely going to lick that cum off my quads, and I was going to make him lick it up off the floor as well. And maybe I would have him lick my ass when I was done.

So I took charge and started making the rules, and Uncle Rick became my submissive, deferring to me on everything. Uncle Rick said his partner in prison, or Master as he sometimes called him, was very demanding and trained him to be a perfect bottom boy. So I took over that job; I became Uncle Rick's Master. Yes, I took charge, but Uncle Rick continued subtly molding me into a demanding, controlling Master. He literally became my slave. I was going on fourteen and Uncle Rick was twenty-seven.

I made him into my flunkey during the workouts and I'd sometimes make him lick the sweat off me afterwards, and then beg to be allowed to service me. Then I'd slap him around some while I fucked him. We did all kinds of crazy shit and he was absolutely wild about it and could never get enough. As I got bigger and more aggressive he became even more submissive and became my total slave. I was in hog heaven, and so was he. Standing in front of a mirror flexing my muscles with my hunky uncle on his knees blowing me or licking my ass was absolutely mind blowing. Particularly for a gay kid not quite fifteen years old who was being turned into a powerful commanding top man, both physically and mentally.

This went on for months, until my parents finally figured out what was going on and made Uncle Rick move out. I told you they ignored me entirely, so they paid no attention to what we were doing in the basement, and it took them forever to figure out that I was fucking Uncle Rick every day. Jeremy didn't dare tell them and they were too oblivious of me to even notice what we were up to. So Uncle Rick and I were fucking for over a year and a half before Mommy accidently walked in on us.

Uncle Rick had a job and was well situated by the time Daddy kicked him out, so he could afford to get out on his own. He wasn't going to have me anymore, but I knew a submissive hunk like him was not going to have any trouble finding some dominant stud to keep him in line. Besides, Uncle Rick said his 'Master' from prison was getting out in a few months and they were planning to hook up.

By then I was a seasoned bodybuilder and an accomplished top man. Not even fifteen yet, I was a hunk. Uncle Rick left the weights behind, so I continued having fantastic workouts in the basement.

(more to come)




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