The following story is fiction and does not necessarily represent the sexuality of actors Zachery Ty Bryan, Jonathan Taylor Thomas, or Taran Noah Smith. The main characters are based on Home Improvement's Brad Taylor, Randy Taylor, and Mark Taylor (as played by Zachery Ty Bryan, Jonathan Taylor Thomas, and Taran Noah Smith, respectively).
Home Improvement is produced by ABC Television (last time I checked) and currently runs on syndication. No copyright infringement is intended by the following tale, and NO MONEY is being made from this story. It is just a product of a highly creative imagination.
In April 2002, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that texts (including fiction) portraying minors in sexual situations are LEGAL, as long as no actual minors are used in the production of the material. Therefore, this court ruling overturned earlier legislation as unconstitutional.
Mark's spellbound horror only fueled Brad and Randy's determination to torture their brother with more "love" pranks. Not that Tweedle-slick and Tweedle-slicker knew exactly what would transpire, but with their parents away on a romantic night of their own, Brad and Randy knew that they would soon be alone with Mark, once he arrived from his friend's house.
"What are you guys doing?" Mark said, sauntering in through the dining room's double doors.
"Show time," Brad whispered in Randy's ear.
"Come, and join us," Randy said, twisting back his pint-sized body on the khaki davenport sofa.
Brad looking back as well, both smiled mischievously as Mark approached them.
"Why are those blinds drawn?" Mark said, pointing indiscreetly.
"Because we don't want Wilson butting on our lives," Randy said, turning forward as Mark passed them on the kitchen's side.
"What do you mean?" the 9-year-old said, plumping on the matching khaki seat to their right.
"Tonight, we plan on exploring some more," Randy said, glinting at Brad seductively.
"Yeah," the blond 13-year-old said, ogling back at Randy.
Randy lifting his brother's legs, Brad turned to the right, toward him, and reclined back on the comfy armrest, while Randy slithered his bending left leg onto the sofa to better support Brad's basketball sneakers.
Without looking, the brothers could sense Mark tensing his breath.
"Man," Brad heaved as Randy finished untying his sneakers. "I can't believe this, but you're giving me a hard-on."
Grinning, Randy pulled each sneaker off, then took Brad's left foot.
The contrast between the white, cotton sock and Randy's tawny, suave hands was almost poetic to sensitive Mark, and this divergence accentuated the physical differences between taller, blond-haired Brad and shorter, brown-haired Randy. This, in turn, helped Mark to brush off the disquieting fact that Brad and Randy were, in truth, brothers.
"Does Ashley massage your foot like this?" Randy said.
"Heck, no," Brad answered.
Randy turned to Mark. "Are you still breathing?" he said, jerking his chin up in a streetwise manner.
"I'm gonna tell mom and dad that you're doing bad things," Mark whined, his jean-covered legs drawn tightly.
"Like you don't have a hard-on yourself. Hey, Brad! What do you say we check his boner?"
"We'll get to him later," Brad said, his eyelids heavy. "First, I would like you to suck my toes."
"Gross!" Mark squawked, recoiling in his seat.
"Shut up, butt face!" Brad yelled.
"At ease, brother," Randy said, patting the 13-year-old on his jean-covered leg. "Dork doesn't understand that brothers do things for each other."
"Not the things that you're doing," Mark protested.
"Everything!" Randy said, eyeing him sternly.
Despite what he had said, Randy stared flintily at Brad, as well, when he returned to him. For flirting with Brad to torture Mark was one thing. But Brad appeared to be taking advantage of Randy, too, and this called for a little poetic justice.
"Tell you what," Randy said. "Why don't you kiss my feet, first? Then, I'll suck your toes."
"You got it, bro," Brad said, bringing a puzzled scowl to Randy, who seconds before had thought that his brother and he were no longer in this together.
Watching the enthusiasm with which Brad untied and removed his sneakers, however, Randy changed his mind again, and when Brad kissed his white, cotton socks, he sighed and threw his head back in prepubescent abandonment.
"How was that?" Brad said, his hazel eyes gloating.
"Heavenly," Randy whiffled, his head spinning with tipsiness.
"Your turn," Brad said eagerly.
Returning to earth, Randy raised his brother's left leg, pulled off the sock, and took the big toe in his mouth.
"Sick!" Mark squealed.
Randy continued sucking.
"Yeah, bro!" Brad breathed. "Suck my tootsie."
The swarthy-faced lad passed his tongue over the smaller toes.
"Stop it!" Mark yawped.
Randy took the second foot, removed the sock, and resumed his sucking and flicking. Not bad, he thought, for a "stinky" brother. In fact, Brad's soles smelled no worse than the palm of a hand.
"Whew!" Randy said, letting go as he gasped for breath.
"That was awesome," Brad reveled.
"It's the least . . . I can do . . . for . . . my favorite brother," Randy panted.
"Aaahhhh!" Brad moaned, the two moving hungrily toward each other.
Randy landing on Brad, they started to suck each other's lips before they knew what they were doing.
"You two are going to hell!" Mark wailed, rising in a huff and running toward the foyer.
"Hey!" Brad said, pushing Randy back. "We didn't have to get that carried away, you know?"
"I'm sorry," Randy muttered, breathing heavily. "I guess I really wanted to press his buttons."
Brad rose from the sofa and grabbed his socks. For a moment, he contemplated them in deep thought, prompting Randy to frown quizzically at him.
"Are you alright?" Randy said.
"Fine," Brad whispered. "Holler when mom and dad get home."
Brad shinning toward the entrance steps, Randy leaned back on the sofa. What, he wondered, had gone through Brad's head? After all, never in his 11 years had he seen the dumb blond musing over anything. That would have been like watching an athlete draw the insides of a rocket engine.
Whatever the answer, Randy closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to forget the strange emotions that had descended on him minutes before.