“Oh no, bro!" 04 (Patreon)

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Chapter 4: I’m a Fucking Weirdo

I sat up quietly, stunned from the realization, in shock, in denial that he was tapping on my door. When he tapped again, I told myself it could be about anything. Maybe he didn’t see the underwear. Maybe he didn’t notice I wiped up my cum with it. Maybe my load wasn’t as big as it seemed last night. 

When I didn’t answer, it was quiet for a minute. I thought he would walk away, assume I was still sleeping. But the door opened, and there stood Brett.

Wearing the underwear that I had jizzed in.

The stain was streaking dark colors across the crotch and around to his little butt.

I gulped. My brother was wearing a part of me on him. He knew. He knew something. 

His big bulge was just the cherry on top of the humiliation. He hadn’t even said anything yet, and I felt like the smallest guy in the world. 

“Hey,” I said, my eyes traveling down from his crotch to his slender, golden-pale thighs and his feet. 

He stood firmly for a moment.

“You wanna shower together?” he said with a smirk.

I smiled at him from my bed. The weird pseudo-relief rushed through me. If he wasn’t going to talk about it, that was the best possible scenario. I chuckled, almost fully laughing.

“No,” I said, looking him in the eye. “I still don’t.”

“Your loss,” he said. 

As if to hammer in the point, he dropped the underwear to his ankles, exposing himself to me yet again. His big dick popped out, half hard with residual morning blood flow. I became severely aware of my own morning wood, and I shifted in my blanket, failing to cover it up. 

He didn’t react to me. He was doing his own thing. His floppy monster dong flopped and bounced on his balls, drawing my eye, and my body tensed. 

He kicked the underwear off his ankle, across the room. It landed on me. I looked down and saw the stain of my jizz, right across the crotch. I could see the shiny, shimmering crust of a boy’s heavy load, yet more proof that it had been a tense orgasm, and that I had loved it, as much as I hated to remember it.

“You dropped these,” he said quietly.

“But these aren’t—” I started.

He abruptly turned his naked ass around, stepping out of my room and into the hall. I watched his little, perky mounds of butt jiggle with each step. 

I sighed to myself.

“Fuck.”

—[]—

I just sat for a minute in bed. No phone. No music. I just listened to the house, stared at the warm pair of underwear he had just kicked to me. 

I heard the shower turn on down the hall. 

I picked up the crusty pair of boxer briefs. The parts where my jizz had splattered and pooled were a darker red. I could smell him on them. 

My eyes narrowed when I gripped them tighter in my hands. They were moist. 

Is this ball sweat?

My heart started to race. I knew it before I admitted it to myself. I turned the pair over to find another spot on them. A wet spot. 

I felt a rush down my spine. 

I started touching myself, absentmindedly. I held the pair of underwear to my face. I licked the wet spot. I started stuffing it into my mouth. I was a freak and I knew it. I stopped pushing back, stopped resisting everything. He had a hold on me, and he knew it, and he liked it. 

I knew when I came I was going to lose the energy. I slowed myself down. I held my hard dick by the base, watching it throb, red and desperate for release, for escalation, for more of this.

I covered my dick with the underwear, now wet with cum and sweat and my saliva. 

I started playing with myself. Wrapping the underwear like a strap around my balls, around my hard dick as it pointed up at the ceiling. I tightened it, just watching my dick turn darker red, watching it throb, watching it prove how fucked up this had become.

I got curious about what I had seen the night before. I probed my ass with my finger. I tried to push in but found that it didn’t accept it. I sucked my finger, pushing it to the back of my throat. For an instant I imagined it was a dick. The sensation scared me and thrilled me at the same time. I put my finger back between my glutes. 

I made myself relax, and I pushed in. The first knuckle was a strange sensation already, but it went in easy.  

The second knuckle was already a struggle. It felt unnatural. It felt weird already. I was barely a couple inches into my ass, and I couldn’t even take it. It almost felt like a cramp. 

I thought back to Brett the night before. How he lubed up the entire remote and shoved it up his ass. That thing was thicker than three fingers, and it was at least two or three inches inside him. 

Maybe some people are just more built for it, I thought to myself. 

Then I started rubbing myself absent-mindedly with my other hand while I kept the end of my finger inside myself, and the magic happened.

“Oh fuck…” I muttered out loud. 

I felt it. Jerking off with my finger in my ass felt good. Too  good. 

“Fuck,” I said again, louder, to no one.

I gripped the head of my cock tightly, squeezing out a drop of pre-cum and rubbing it around the head, and I was able to put the entire finger inside myself. It was like having two jerkoff sessions at once. It felt like my ass was a whole extra dick that was leading to its own second orgasm at the same time. 

Having gotten the picture, I squeezed the base of my dick and made myself throb and leak, wiggling my finger as deeply as I could, pushing at every angle. I stuck in a second finger and felt myself stretch.

“Fuck,” I muttered yet again. I started rocking my hips a bit. I didn’t even know what was happening to me. I got so horny and flushed, it felt like every porn I had ever seen was flowing through my body. 

I pushed my fingers upward inside myself, like I was feeling my dick from the inside. It was a wild ride as I felt every bump and ridge inside there. I had a general idea of what a prostate was, and I was pretty sure I understood now what the idea was. 

I lifted my knees to either side of my head. I tried to look down at what I was doing.

My dick almost touched my chin as I bent as far forward as I could. I watched my own pink hole stretch around my fingers as I moved them in and out. I could smell my balls and my own musk, so much stronger than I had ever smelled it, even muskier than when I scratch my balls after practice and bring my fingers to my nose.

I stopped myself every time before I pushed myself over the edge. I realized that even when I stopped stroking my cock, I would make myself cum if I kept pressing the buttons in my ass. 

This was a game changer. I pictured all my future masturbation sessions, as if I had unlocked the key to pleasure for the rest of my life. It was like jerking off for the first time again.

I had never felt so in touch with my body before. It was intense and intimate, and it all started because of Brett. I started to feel some spiritual communion with him through this bizarre, shared experience. I almost wanted him to be there with me. 

I wondered if this was his plan the whole time. Even though he was the younger one, it was clear from recent events that I was the naive one. I had the muscles and the height, but he had the emotional control over me. And it didn’t help that he had the bigger dick.

I laid back. I was edged to fucking hell. My breath was fast, my heart was racing and I felt the sweat dripping down both sides of my body. I was going crazy with whatever was going on. The only thing I knew was that I didn’t want to cum. I didn’t want to feel a post-nut clarity about any of this. The edge was the only place where it all felt right and ok. Then a second thought occurred to me. 

I had to piss. Really bad.

“Fuck,” I said out loud again, looking at my open doorway. 

There was a bathroom downstairs, but I knew I was going to go into this one. It was physics at this point. 

I threw Brett’s underwear, wet with saliva and sweat and pre-cum to the corner of the room, and stepped out of my bed to stretch. My bladder panged as bad as my aching erection that I let levitate in the air, I had to piss so bad.

I walked naked to the bathroom and found the door left partly open, unlatched. I took a deep breath and walked in.

I saw Brett through the foggy shower glass, his blurred silhouette showing the shape of his slender frame, his big dick flopping as he turned toward me. I wondered if he was hard, or more accurately, how hard he was.

“Did you find my present?” he said, in a tone only half taunting.

I chuckled, stopping in front of the toilet to finally get some release. But I had to bend forward to angle my steel-hard rod at the bowl, and it already hurt. I don’t think I had ever had such a bad mix of horniness and having to pee. I was struggling to even get the stream started, when Brett opened the glass shower door, doing nothing to cover up his crotch.

“Just piss in here,” he said, then looking down at my cock, “it looks like your only choice.”

I chuckled. Of course that is what’s happening next.

Before I risked pissing all over the wall, I hopped into the hot water, nudging him out of my way, and finally let my stream loose. It was as relieving as it was surreal.

“You finally got me in the shower with you,” I said quietly, staring at the shower wall as it received my morning stream.

He chuckled behind me. “Shut up, it was your idea.”

I rolled my eyes, finally finding some levity in the situation. “And how the fuck do you figure that?”

“Don’t gaslight me,” he said.

I narrowed my eyes, turning my head halfway to try to look at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Shut up,” he said, as he reached a soapy hand onto my back. I didn’t even flinch, as I was somehow expecting it already. 

And I did shut up. My piss was taking forever to finish, or maybe it just felt longer when I was pissing in a compromising situation. 

His second soapy hand joined the first on my back, and started to caress my lats, my shoulders, my upper arms. It felt good, like a massage. 

“Thanks,” I muttered, still wondering when the hell my piss was going to end.

He didn’t respond, instead suddenly moving his hands to my arm pits. It tickled and I laughed and flinched, my piss accidentally spraying around. 

“Fuck,” I yelled, too loud on accident, spurred on by the tickling. “Stop!” 

“What?” he said slowly, drawing out the word to accentuate his feigned ignorance. “I’m just washing your arm pits, big bro!”

He tickled me again, while I was helpless. 

“I will fucking piss on you I swear to god!” I said, again louder than I should have, completely disregarding that mom and dad were home, presumably downstairs and within shouting distance. 

“You better fucking not!” he said, laughing.

“Then stop!” I said.

He finally relented, just as I was finally done peeing. 

“That felt like it was never going to end,” I said, turning toward him. 

We paused for a second, the water rushing over us. It finally hit me that we were standing naked together. I had almost forgotten, somehow. I looked down, and so did he. His dick was big, fleshy, robust, dwarfing mine, even though we were only half hard. My rod started to harden a bit, throbbing lightly, giving me a pang to my stomach. There was no plausible deniability anymore about what was going on with me, what was happening to my dick and why. 

Just when I saw his own stack of meat start to flicker, mirroring mine, he opened the shower door. 

“Alright, I’m done showering,” he said. 

“All yours,” he added as he stepped out, quickly grabbing a towel and wiping down his wet, naked body.

I was a little stunned, but I couldn’t even figure out why. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I didn’t know what to say, so I just grabbed the body wash and poured it on my hands, starting my reflexive routine, soaping up my balls and my ass, my pits and my chest, while Brett dried himself and disappeared out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

With him gone, I found myself hurrying up. When I walked past his room, he wasn’t in there. When I got dressed and went downstairs, he was already gone to school. It was strange, weirdly disappointing.

But I knew there was more to come.