It was a perfectly beautiful suburban house in a perfectly charming suburb. John Allan had just left for work, and his wife Martha had gone out for the day with her friends leaving Brad and Bart, the two Allan sons, home by themselves, which was not unusual as the thirteen and fourteen-year-old boys could pretty much take care of themselves. They were good, typical teen boys. Sure, they got into their share of trouble, but what healthy horny thirteen and fourteen-year-olds don't? They were sweet-faced boys with well-proportioned bodies Not little boys anymore, but not yet men either. Nice, smooth bodies with beautiful, tight boy muscle under velvet soft, boy skin. Brad was wearing a gray tee shirt with plaid boxer shorts and baggy pants. He was currently chasing his younger brother Bart through the hallway trying to get his peanut butter sandwich, which the younger boy had stolen right after he had spent precious minutes spreading the peanut butter evenly across the bread and then layering it with potato chips.
“Bart, you Fuckface give me that goddamned sandwich now, do you hear me?
“MMMMMM tastes good. Tastes better than Sally Martin's pussy!” Bart yelled back licking the edge of the bread to goop up some of the peanut butter.
“Yeah right, what the fuck you know? Give that back right now, or I'll call Sally Martin and tell her you are a cocksucking faggot and then you'll never, ever get to fuck any girl!”
Bart waved the sandwich in the air to tempt his brother.
“OHHH yeah, Mr. Cocksman! Like you have ever gotten that pathetic weiner of yours into anything but your own hand.”
“Julie Ashton rubbed it last week, and it got hard, and she kept on rubbing and everything.”
Bart lowered the sandwich.
“You're shitting me?”
He walked over to his bro and handed him the bread.
“Honest to god, I was so fucking hard, and she kept on rubbing it right through my cargo pants while I had my tongue down her throat.”
Young Brad's dick got hard just thinking about it.
“Holy fuck, and you never told me? Why the fuck didn't you tell me?”
In spite of their constant fighting, young Bart idolized his older brother.
“It was personal, you know.”
Brad took a big bite out of the sandwich and then offered it to his bro.
“You never kept any sex stuff from me before. Like when Kelly Stevenson showed you her tits.”
Bart stood there with a sandwich in one hand as his other hand groped his little boy bulge like a rap star.
“I know, but this was you know — special. I wanted to keep it to myself for a while.”
It was nine o'clock on a Tuesday morning, and yet these two teens were already talking about sex. In fact, that's all they pretty much did talk about, girls and sex and fucking and nasty stuff. They were typical teens. Brad swallowed a chunk of peanut butter and bread.
“But I got another date with Julie this Friday, and I'm gonna go for some tit.”
Bart scraped one barefoot across the carpet.
“Aw, fuck. I'm never gonna get a date with a girl.”
Brad laughed, but it was a friendly loving laugh. He reached out and lightly slapped his brother’s head.
“Sure you will; the day you turn fourteen, honest. At thirteen, no cunts ever looked at me, but suddenly this year they can’t keep their eyes off my dick bulge.”
“What dick bulge?” Bart teased.
Brad slammed into his brother, and they both tumbled onto the hallway carpet rolling around laughing and playfully punching each other and then the doorbell rang.
“You get it,” Bart said trying to pick peanut butter out of the carpet.
“Fuck you! You get it. I got it last time.”
“No, dork breath, I got it last time, remember? It was Timmy Craswell selling some shit for that boy's club he goes to.”
“Okay, okay, fuck it.”
Brad got to his feet and without realizing it ran one hand over his short choppy hair. Boys his age are always so self-conscious of their looks. He ambled to the door as the bell rang again thinking it was probably old Mrs. Kreuser who always bothered his mom, but when he opened the door there stood a very handsome middle-aged man dressed in a black short-sleeved summer shirt and cream-colored slacks. He looked rich like some of Dad's clients. Behind him were two other guys, one with some camera equipment. Both the other guys were Asian, but Brad couldn't tell from where. Brad squinted as the sunlight splashed across his cute young teen face.
“Yeah? Can I help you?”
The man smiled.
“Oh, I think so. How nice to finally see you in person. May we come in?”
Brad, who was quite intelligent and not very easily intimidated, smiled back.
“I don't think so. What are you selling?”
The man scratched one dark eyebrow.
“Sex. I am selling boy sex. My name is Mr. Black, and I am here to film you and your younger brother Bart having sex together.”
“What are you talking about?”
He started to shut the door, but Mr. Black put out one hand, and the door shook and swung open pushing Brad back.
“Let's not get off on the wrong foot. Let’s stay calm and civil. Please allow me to explain. You and your brother got into some pretty nasty sites on the internet. I'm sure without your parents knowing. You looked up some pretty sick stuff, didn’t you?”
It was true, Bart and Brad had figured out a way to get around their father's protective attempts and had gotten into some extreme adult sites with chicks getting fucked by dogs and whipped and stuff like that. If his parents found out, not only would the boys be punished, but also worse, they would be made to feel guilty. Brad and Bart loved their parents and didn't want to disappoint them. Their parents trusted them. Hurting them would be horrible.
“Who are you and how did you get our address?”
“May we please come in and talk about this with you and your brother or should I just mail a list of the sites you two little perverts surfed to your principal at school?”
Suddenly Brad felt like a little kid like a baby again. He wanted to cry. Shit, he hadn't cried in years — okay months, but still. He rubbed his head with one hand a habit he had.
“I'm not supposed to let anyone in the house.”
“Yes, but this is an exception, isn't it? Your mom is gone until at least five o'clock. So we have lots of time to film you and young Bard sucking and fucking.”
Brad didn’t know what to do.
“I'm going to call the police.”
“Great, do you know the trouble you can get into for going to those sites? Those are illegal sites. Your dad could get fined or even put in jail. Let's call the police, shall we?”
“Bart,” Brad called needing his brother for support.
“Yes, I want to meet Bart he's even cuter than you are if your pictures are accurate. Not that you are a slouch in the looks department young man. No, no I certainly wouldn't throw you out of bed.”
“BART!” Brad yelled even louder.
“You go barefoot around the house? I like that. When your parents are gone, do you ever go around the house bare-assed? Do you and your brother ever run around with your teenage dicks and balls swinging and flopping all over the place?”
Brad's fourteen-year-old eyes filled with tears.
“Go away” he cried.
Brad tried to close the door again, but this time Mr. Black put out a foot. He kicked the door open with his expensive Italian leather loafer, and he and his two assistants marched into the Allan home.
“Set up in the living room for now. We'll go to the boys' bedroom later for some bed fucking.”
Brad went for the phone, but Mr. Black put out a foot and tripped the boy who tumbled onto the rug.
“Now, if you two young colts behave, your parents and friends never need to know about this. Here's the deal. I told you that I make sex films and sell them for lots of money. Well, today I am going to make a sex film of you and your brother doing all kinds of nasty stuff. I am going to turn the two of you into faggots. You are going to indulge in homosexual activity. You are going to perform dirty acts that you never imagined doing, although from some of the websites you boys play with maybe you have imagined them.
“Let's go into the living room, shall we? These are my two assistants, Chang and Yuan. They will fuck you too, but later much later.”
“What's going on? Who is this?” Bart asked running down the stairs looking at his crying older brother on the floor.
“Hi, Bart .I'm Mr. Black, and I'm here to make you into a movie star.”
“Like on that Pop Idol TV show?”
Bart was much more gullible than Brad. His sweet young face brightened.
“Yeah, kind of like that. But we have to get Brad here to cooperate. You see, Bart, you are going to be a thirteen-year-old sex film star — a gay sex film star.”
Bart sat down on the stairs and curled his cute young toes and twisted his fingers together as he did whenever he was scared.
“Is this a joke, Brad. Is this some kind of joke?”
Brad looked up at Mr. Black standing over him. Mr. Black tapped the boy with his foot.
“Answer your brother. Tell him it’s no joke.”
Brad said nothing, so Mr. Black kicked the fourteen-year-old boy in the balls.
“Answer your brother. Tell him it's not a joke.”
“It's no joke,” Brad mumbled through his pain.
Mr. Black kicked him a second time.
“He can't hear you.”
“IT'S NOT A JOKE!” Brad yelled as his still youthful voice cracked under the strain.
Bart put his hands over his mouth at the sight of his brother getting kicked.
“Brad,” he cried into his hands.
Mr. Black smiled.
“Good, now shall we go into the living room? We have lots to do today and only limited time unless, of course, you want your mom to waltz in here while you have your dick in each other’s mouths and asses. It doesn't matter very much to me either way. I'll get my film one way or the other.”
He ushered the boys into the living room and told them to sit down on the couch.
“Now, I know you have a lot of questions I can answer most of them while we play. We got your name and address from your server. We hacked in, and we got the sites you watch. You were stupid enough to send pictures to that one teenage chat room.
“Well, guess who was on the other side? Remember Missy that nice cunt you had an internet jerk-off crush on? Well, guess who Missy was? You boys should consider yourselves special. Of the hundreds of boys, I considered for this film you won hands down. My clients are going to love your innocent, fresh-faced beauty. But, now it’s time to work. First of all, I think…cameras rolling? Then why don't you two young cuties lower your pants and shorts and show me those pretty little teenage dicks?”
Bart tried the polite approach.
“Please, don't make us do this, sir. It’s so sick.”
“Does your father keep any liquor in the house? I could use a martini. I know what you’re thinking. It’s too early in the day for me to drink, which is true, and I thank you for your concern, but shooting fuck films is challenging work, and I do enjoy a drink while I am filming.
“Now, down with your trousers, boys. Show me those hoses and fuck sacks. Let me see what I've got to work with.”
Bart looked at his older brother.
“Do we gotta, Brad?”
Mr. Black jumped in and wagged a finger at Bart.
“I can answer that young fella. Yes, you gotta. In fact, if you don't have your pants down around your ankles in…oh…ten seconds, I am going to slap your ball sacks until they are swollen the size of basketballs.
“Chang look for some vodka. Come on, Brad, show your brother that it’s wise to obey. I don’t want to have to hurt you, boys. Getting your ass fucked for the first time hurts enough. There is no sense in you wanting more pain.”
Slowly, Brad's shaking hands went to his belt. He opened his pants.
“Oh, wait, wait. Good idea. Stand up, young man. Now, drop your pants and show us your cute teen ass first. Let the audience feast their eyes on a perfect unfucked, virginal, fourteen-year-old ass. You know, we'll do a before and after before the ass is turned into a fucked out pussy and after—
“I don't want to do this, sir, please.”
“Catch those tears on film, Yuan. Those are million dollar tears. Drop the pants, Brad, and the cute shorts and bend over show us that boy ass.
“Oh, very nice, very nice, look, Bart, doesn't your big brother have a delicious looking ass? Stop crying and look. Look at those soft ass cheeks yet well-muscled ass globes. Do you play soccer, son? I can always tell a soccer player.
“Now, be a good boy, reach back with your hands and spread your ass cheeks to show us your virginal asshole.
“Oh, here comes the vodka. You can always tell dad that you and Bart hit the booze. You might be punished, but not nearly as much as if they found out you look at sick cunt sites on the internet.
“You have a delightfully deep ass crack, Brad. I like boys with deep ass cracks. I hate flat-assed boys. I want to kick them in their flat asses.
“I do hope you have a pretty ass, Bart. Is your ass as pretty as Brad's, do you think? Are you listening? How the fuck can we carry on a conversation with you two sobbing like that? Now, stop this crying at once, or I will be forced to punish you by shoving Coke bottles up your assholes.
“Now, Brad was just going to spread his ass cheeks for us. Get that camera in there. Oh my, yes, yes, yes, what a pretty pink little virginal pussy hole. You will be amazed by the difference at the end of the day. Brad, by the end of the day, that tiny, puckered, little hole will be able to accommodate the fist of a full-grown man.
“Okay, now, the first thing I want you boys to do is sit on the couch and jerk your teen dicks so our audience can see what they look like. No more wasting time. WE HAVE A MOVIE TO MAKE!”