It's Only a Game

(Mbb) (tort) (inc)

Oh my, how children are influenced by television and the world in which they live. Karl Wilber returned back home from a hard day’s work to hear such a ruckus in the basement. His nine-year-old son was screaming and crying.

"Damn, if Timmy is picking on Jace again, I swear, I'll beat the boy's ass black and blue.”

It wasn't easy to raise two boys aged nine and twelve alone. Karl wondered where the housekeeper was, and then he remembered it was her day to leave early. Shit, poor Jace sounded in agony like his big brother was really doing something nasty. Timmy did love to pick on Jace. Karl had found out all kinds of nasty stuff. He didn’t really trust his twelve-year-old son. He learned once that Timmy used to piss in Jace's food, and not tell the boy. He'd act like the nice brother and serve Jace a cola, but he had just pissed in it or picked in his nose and put the snot into it.


“What is going on down here?" Karl said, clomping down the basement steps.


What greeted his eyes blew his fucking mind. Both his sons were naked – bare-ass naked in the basement. You know how kids will sometimes do that, but it was the rest of the scene that blew his mind. Jace was tied up with his little legs up and spread, and his wrists lashed to his ankles hanging from chains and his small, pale back resting on a stool. He looked like something out of a sick S&M club. Karl could see his younger son's hairless asshole as he older son was strutting around with his rock-hard, little dick. It bounced and swayed as he walked and sometimes slapped his little tummy. In his hand, he carried some kind of wooden dowel.


"Hi, Dad," he said with a sweet smile on his twelve-year-old face. He didn't seem ashamed or anything.


"Timothy Wilber, what in God's name are you doing?"


"Oh, nothing, Dad, we're just playing Iraq. I'm the US soldier, the good guy, and Jace is the dirty, stinking Iraq, and I gotta make him confess."


Karl looked at his younger son, trussed up with his tiny, baby asshole winking at him.


"Ah, ah, I don’t think you should be playing this, boys."


"Why not, Dad, are you un-American?"


"Of course not, of course not, son, but—"


Karl couldn't stop staring at his son’s erect little prick. Shit, he'd not had sex since his wife had died, and he was getting turned on by this whole sick thing. What was wrong with him?


"Well, how do you play this game?"


He didn't know why he said that it just slipped out.


Timmy smiled his devilish, cute, sexy smile.


"Well, you see, I gotta torture the fucking scumbag."


"I don't wanna play, Dad. Timmy hurts me bad!"


"Hush, Jace, I'm talking to your older brother. Do you think you should swear like that Timmy?"


"Shit, Dad, I'm supposed to be a tough U.S. soldier!"


"Well, I guess it's okay as long as you only use that language when you are playing and not when you are Timmy Wilber."


"Fuck, no, Dad. Now let's get to work on this towelhead cocksucker! You can be my assistant Dad, a private contractor or something. I need some help with this fuckwad."


Watching his naked twelve-year-old son bouncing around, Karl threw a terrible hard on. It was so fucking exciting, and he didn’t know why.


"What, what do you do?"


"Well, Dad, first I beat the shit out of his ass with this whip.”


It wasn’t really a whip, but only a wooden dowel.


“Then I shove the end of it up his asshole real hard and real deep."


Jace was sobbing.


"It hurts so badly, Dad. Please don’t let him do it."


"Have you boys played this game this before?"


"For the last couple of days. Jace's asshole is pretty raw and pretty sore, but mostly from the pop bottle, I been shoving in it. If he would just confess, this would all be over."


Jace screamed, his little boy voice thrilling.


"I don't know what to confess. I don't know what you want me to say. I'll say anything. Please stop this."


"Then I whack his balls with the whip, but he's still such a shit. Then I put my pee-pee in his mouth and make him suck on it."


"Dad, it's nasty and dirty. Please stop him.


"Jace, I won't tell you again to be quiet. I'm talking with your brother here, and after all, he is a U.S. soldier. How does that work Tim, when you stick your dick in his mouth?"


"He hates it, but he doesn’t dare bite me. The thing is my dick is still too little to do much damage. To really break the prisoner, we should have a really big dick to shove in his cocksucking mouth."


Karl was going nuts. He felt like he wanted to shoot off in his pants. What had happened to him?


“You wanna be my assistant, Dad? You wanna shove your big dick in his mouth. That would teach him good, the dirty Iraqi."


"Well, son, if it is for the good of our country, I guess so."


"Oh, God, Dad, you aren't going to play too, are you? Please, he hurts me so bad."


Karl was peeling off his clothes to get naked with his handsome son, Tim. They simply had to break that fucking Iraqi bastard.


Karl's nine-inch prick stood out stiff and leaking.


"That's great, Dad, that’ll fix the fucker good. Slap his face with it a couple of times before you shove the pee-pee in his mouth."


"All right, son, but don't call it a pee-pee. If you are an adult soldier, call it my fuck meat!"


Karl's prick had never been so hard.


"Make him suck on it and pee in his mouth too. Then we'll light some matches and burn the bottom of his feet and ball bag."


"You know, son, I think the little shit might confess if we stuck a lighted match in the piss hole of his little nine-year-old dick."


"Kewl idea Dad and then I'll show you how I shove the bottle up his asshole."


"Son, you said the bottle wasn't working too well. What if I shove my big hard fuck meat up his asshole instead?"


"That would be awesome, Dad. This is going to be so fucking much fun. I love you, Dad."


"I love you too, Timmy."


"Hey, Dad, instead of untying him, can we just leave him down here from now on like it was a real prison or something. You know, feed him dog food and shit like that. And make him piss and dump and then eat it and stuff?"


"Well, Tim, if we are going to play this game, we might as well play it correctly. In Iraq, they don't let the prisoners go at night, do they?"


"We should get a dog to bite him. A big dog, to bite him on the balls and pee-pee, I mean fuck meat and stuff."


"Well, son, tomorrow, I'll look into buying a dog for us then. After all, this dirty enemy has got to be broken. We have to serve our country."