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.
Part I
"Get out of my room!" Brad said, covering the cell phone section under his mouth.
"It's my room, too," Randy answered, taking a notebook from the study on his side of the bedroom.
"Nothing, Ashley," Brad said, sitting up on his higher bunk. "I told you to get out."
"I'm almost done!" Randy said, dropping the last book into his green backpack.
"It's just my geeky brother," Brad said, climbing down.
The blond shoved Randy; Randy shoved him back; and the two wrestled toward the ground.
"I'll call you later, Ashley."
"Brad and Randy are fighting!" Mark yelled as he entered the fluorescent bedroom.
Tim and Jill storming inside, the 9-year-old stepped back as an idea crossed his head. Now, he thought, was the best opportunity to get back at his brothers for their endless "love" pranks.
Part II
With Randy placed in a refurbished basement, Mark gloated at the prospect of his brothers' relationship turning more sour. After all, what was more corrosive to trust and cooperation than separation between former allies? Such distance was exactly what Mark needed for his plan to succeed--just enough bitterness between Brad and Randy to make them uncomfortable about sucking and fragging each other.
Yet, Mark knew that they would never back away from his dare, for that would have meant their acknowledgment of Mark's superiority in the prank department. Never would Brad and Randy allow Mark to steal that title from them, especially in a 2-versus-1 competition. But his brothers' increasing bitterness would not make things easy.
"Good morning," Mark said, approaching Brad and Randy with a smile.
"Get outta here, weasel!" Brad said, turning left from the davenport sofa's matching, khaki chair.
"Yeah, doofus," Randy shot, turning right way from the khaki chair across from Brad's.
Three months, Mark thought, since Brad and Randy's bedroom separation. "I have a dare for you," he said, his grin widening.
"Shut up!" Brad brayed. "I'm trying to watch the game."
Mark crossed the strait between Brad's chair and the empty davenport, picked the remote control, and pressed Off.
"I'll kill you!" Brad brayed, throwing Mark on the sofa as he lunged at him.
"Then, you won't hear what I have to say," Mark said, his face two inches below his brother's.
"What!"
"I dare you to suck each other," Mark said.
Loosening his grip on the shawl collar of Mark's pajamas, Brad inched back and stood up. "You don't even know what that means," Brad grumbled.
"Yes, I do! You wrap your lips around each other's weenies."
Brad and Randy glinted at each other.
"Why don't you suck my weenie?" Randy said smartly.
"I dared you first," Mark said, jubilant at his sudden astuteness.
Again, Brad and Randy glanced, desperately trying to communicate to each other a way out of this.
"I think I hear something," Mark said, his hazel eyes scouring the air for what seemed like a flea.
"What?" Brad said.
"It sounds like . . . two chickens."
Panic struck Brad and Randy's hearts, as they knew that their anger, resentment, and fledgling hate against each other would make Mark's request an ordeal to meet. Yet, to decline would have meant letting their dinky brother triumph. If only Brad and Randy had stayed allies. Then, each knew, they could have gotten intimate with the same ease with which they had kissed and sucked each other's feet three months ago.
"Who do you want sucking whom?" Brad said, making a face of discomfort.
"You suck Randy," Mark said, eager to bring the blond to his knees.
For a moment, Brad stood in limbo between Mark and Randy, his blue eyes in a semi-pensive mode.
"It's not like we haven't fooled around before," Randy said, trying to ease his brother's trepidation.
Such concern for Brad infuriated Mark, as neither brother had shown the same regard for him. But when Randy started to push down his blue boxer shorts, Mark's breathing intensified in a more pleasing direction.
Randy's uncut, 4-inch pecker exposed over his crunched white briefs, Brad slowly moved toward his brother, who sat back down on the khaki chair.
"I would kneel if I were you," Mark needled.
"Shut up, rat face!" Brad said, missing as he swung his arm at the 9-year-old.
Reluctantly, he lowered himself toward the seat; and from the sudden rise of Randy's dong, Mark knew that his 11-year-old brother was sexually excited.
"It's no big deal," Randy said, Brad's freckled face holding at four inches away.
"You can't cum, right?" Brad said.
"Of course not, bozo."
Waveringly, Brad resumed his turtle-like journey toward the baby snake, and the closer his head got, the more Mark's peter hardened. At last, Brad stuck out his tongue, licked the head, and took the uncut dick in his mouth.
"Aah," Randy purred, his eyelids heavy as he leaned back.
Brad kept sucking, his head descending progressively further, until his nose touched Randy's hairless bladder region.
"Man," Randy continued, his hands reaching for Brad's shoulder-long, wavy hair.
Something snapped in Mark as he watched his brothers in their unique postures, especially tough Brad in his humbling position. When Randy began to pull his brother's hair, Mark's heart stopped! Amazingly, Brad did not protest, even as the goose bumps on Randy's tawny skin indicated a climax of some sort. Of course, Brad had shut his eyes, but he must have felt his brother's body quaking.
"Aaaahhhh!" Randy wailed, pulling Brad's hair harder.
Stunningly, Brad continued to suck--until Randy collapsed on the cushion behind him.
Wow! Mark thought. But he didn't want to divulge too much information to his brothers, especially the fact that they had converted him from discomfort about his burgeoning homosexuality to avid seeking of it.
"Talk about an Indian Summer," Brad gasped, fanning his black-and-green, vertically striped T-shirt with his left hand as he plunked beside Mark on the davenport. "Can't you turn on the air conditioner?"
"If I did, you wouldn't get to enjoy hot, sweaty cornholing," Mark said, smiling impudently.
"I thought that Randy would get to suck me," Brad said with a suddenly worried look.
"Think again," the 9-year-old reveled, glad to tip the power balance between his brothers.
"Who do you want cornholing whom?" Brad said, almost afraid to ask.
Scratching his round head, Mark rolled his eyes pensively toward the ceiling. If Randy cornholed Brad, that would have completed the cycle of humiliation that Mark had just witnessed, destroying Brad's dominion over Randy and him. Randy, however, might become too cocky, as absolute power corrupted absolutely. There was only one solution: keep Brad's dick hungry for a good sucking and make Brad and Randy cornhole each other. That way, Randy would have gained an upper hand over Brad, while having experienced some "effeminizing" humiliation himself.
"You are to cornhole Randy," Mark began.
He almost heard Brad sigh in relief.
"Then, Randy is to cornhole you," he said, smiling from Brad's suddenly terrified face.
"You want us to show you if butt fucking is safe?" Randy said, his dark, glittering eyes announcing the popping up of some idea in his head as he pulled up his briefs and boxer shorts.
"Not true," Mark muttered.
"You're afraid of women, aren't you?"
"Am not."
"Well, you should be," Randy continued. "Because toothed vaginas are real."
"Brad must cum in you," he shot in revenge.
"Let's go, then," Randy said nonchalantly, rising from his chair.
"Where are you going?" Mark said, Randy starting for the front of the house.
"My room."
"Why your room?" Brad said. "I mean, mom and dad are camping all day, and those blinds are drawn."
"It will add some variety to our lovemaking," Randy said glibly, then resumed his sashay away from his brothers.
"You don't believe that toothed vaginas are real," Brad said, rising from the sofa.
"I have my doubts," Mark said, following Brad to the basement door.
"We can't prove that they exist, unless you want to insert your dong in a pussy," Brad continued, descending the wooden stairs. "What we can prove is that cornholing doesn't threaten cocks in any way."
Part III
Randy sliding open the bright, blue door, he traipsed into his basement room, while Brad peeled off his T-shirt and boxer shorts. Turning, Randy shucked off his loose, yellow tank top. The two down to their white briefs and white, cotton socks, Brad gently pushed Randy toward the single bed, and plopping on the dark-blue bedspread, they began to kiss and grope their fatless, teen-muscled bodies.
His eyes transfixed, Mark sat on the swivel chair by Randy's computer, hesitant about baring his clothes.
"My love," Brad whispered, sniffing Randy's swarthy, silky chest.
The feel of Brad's cock against his own heightened Randy's horniness, and in his thirst, he pulled down Brad's briefs.
"Oooooh, yeah," Brad heaved, wrapping his thumb around Randy's waistband.
Their briefs down to their knees, they began to kiss--slowly and tenderly at first, like prepubescents "playing doctor." But itching Randy snatched Brad's lips with his own, and Brad started to suck back roughly and passionately! Both could only imagine the demons stirring inside Mark. Not that they felt totally comfortable flirting like this. In fact, their latent feelings for each other was what had caused that bedroom fight three months ago, and each could point to lesser matches triggered by their fledgling love pranks.
"Is that how you used to dry hump?" Mark said tepidly.
Brad turned right and back. "Roll over here so you can see better," he said, and sensing trepidation in Mark, he grinned, along with Randy.
Suddenly, Mark wished for the scene to end, as his tough brothers' tenderness had fired more gay feelings than he could handle. Why, he thought, had he risked stirring these emotions, when he barely could tolerate his brothers' lesser games upstairs?
"That's it," Brad whispered, Mark sitting three feet to their side.
For once, fright descended on Randy as Brad kneeled up, climbed out of his underpants, and pulled Randy's briefs off the rest of the way. Not only did that "feeling" of being naked make Randy feel vulnerable; Brad's erection announced the extent to which his pecker had grown since Randy last saw it six months ago.
Brad lowered himself again, and placing his hard, 4-inch cock on Randy's erect, 3-inch dong, he began to pump against his brother. "See?" he said, turning to Mark. "This is dry humping."
At first, Randy simply lay on the bed, but the intense sensation below goaded him to thrust back.
"Aaaahhhh!" Randy exhaled with abandon.
"Give me that Vaseline," Brad said, motioning to Mark as he continued to hump his brother.
Not since Brad and Randy were 12 and 9, respectively, had they attempted to cornhole each other, and back then, they backed off after three unsuccessful attempts. Now, by contrast, Brad was bigger; he dated girls; and he could cum. Moreover, like Brad, Randy was supposed to start focusing on girls. How foolish could two brothers be--toying with intense emotions and pleasurable physical sensations from childhood at a time when they should have been weaning themselves away from them? Of course, Mark hadn't given them much of a choice, but Brad's extra seasoning was like playing with fire.
His uncut cock pointing hungrily at Randy, Brad applied jelly around Randy's end hole. Then, he lifted his brother's legs onto his square shoulders, placed his aching dick in the crack, and pushed.
"Easy, man," Randy said, guiding Brad along the waist.
"I'm horny! What do you expect?"
Slowly, he pressed further into his brother's hole, until the base of his cock touched Randy's skin.
"Alright," Randy gasped. "Now, go in and out, slowly--like you're fucking Ashley."
"But you're not Ashley. You're my tough little brother. I thought you'd be able to handle some hard, savage fucking."
Where did his brothers learn to talk like that?
"You're really getting into this, aren't you?" Randy said.
"Of course! After all, your butt is the only alternative I have to toothed vaginas."
With that, Brad started to hump Randy--slow and long at first, then fast, hard, and deep.
"Huh! Huh!" Brad panted.
"Oh, Brad!" Randy said, imitating Ashley's high-pitched voice. "Kiss me, you little hunk of looove."
"You want me to kiss you?" Brad said, staring deeply into his eyes.
"Oh, my love," Randy said girlishly. "Nothing would please me more than knowing that you love me."
The blond lowered his head, puckered his lips, and met Randy's open, waiting mouth.
Mark could no longer cover his hard-on without becoming obvious, and a part of him wanted to join them. But he was there to make sure that his dare was carried through--not to descend to their level.
"Mmmmmmmmmmmm!" Brad said, still kissing Randy.
He humped three more times, and his body began shimmying like a car.
With Brad's first spray, Randy opened his eyes. With the second squirt, he goggled at Brad. With shots 3 through 6, Randy almost popped his eyeballs out of their sockets.
Brad, on the other hand, shut his eyes tighter with each spray, throwing his head further and further back in seeming agony. "Arrrghhhhh!"
"Fuuuccckkkkkkk!" Randy whooped, rubbing his dong furiously. "I think I'm . . . uuuuuurrrrrrrrgghhh!"
Although no milk appeared, Randy's pelvis writhed, his upper body squirming as well as Brad continued to shoot into him four, five, six more times!
At last, Brad collapsed on Randy.
Part IV
"Hey!" Randy said, lifting his round head from his pillow. "I'm no resting mat, you know?"
Opening his eyes, Brad sleepily raised his head from Randy's moist chest. "I know, but you were so good."
"Shit!" Randy said as they sat up in bed. "Why didn't anyone tell me to put a towel down here?" He ickily continued to feel the white goo on the blue quilt.
"I guess we haven't practiced enough," Brad said, smiling carefree.
"Throw me that towel," Randy said to Mark, placed it atop the slimy liquid, and resumed, "lie down, Braddy boy. Now, it's my turn."
To Mark's amazement, Brad didn't protest, wince, or fidget. That alone transported Mark back to the toothed-vagina story that his brothers had told him three months earlier. That day, of course, he believed them; and although gradually Mark came to dismiss their tale as a myth, he started to reconsider the truth of this story. After all, big, bad Brad wasn't even pretending to resist getting cornholed by Randy, so he must have really wanted to keep Randy from trying the real thing with girls. Toothed vaginas, 9-year-old Mark concluded, must be real!
Of course, a part of him resented the ramifications of that lesson, for his brothers were displaying a love for each other that they had never extended to him.
"I change my mind," Mark suddenly said. "You don't have to cornhole Brad."
Puzzled, his brothers scowled at him, then at each other.
"But you dared us," Randy said, his kneeling legs touching Brad's spread calves.
"I cancel that dare," Mark said, determined to keep Brad top dog and thus, destroy his brothers' renewed alliance.
"I get it," Randy said, his brain cells astute to the last. "What do you say, Brad?"
The 13-year-old glanced at Mark, then at him. "I say . . . cornhole me."
"That's my brother," Randy said, a triumphant grin on his tawny face. He brought Brad's lean legs to his shapely shoulders and placed his hard pecker on the blond's hole. "See, Mark? I told you that brothers do things for each other."
With that, he started pressing into Brad.
"Stop it!" Mark yawped, stomping to his feet.
"Why? We want to show you that butts don't bite," Randy said innocently. "See? You push like this, come out, then press back in."
"I'm telling mom and dad!" Mark wailed, trotted out of the room, and ran upstairs.
Randy stopped humping, and the two looked into each other's eyes.
Mark isn't here, Brad communicated to Randy.
I know, Randy said.
You still wanna shag me? Brad continued.
Yeah.
What about Ashley?
What we're doing doesn't count, Randy said.
Because we're brothers, Brad said, his hazel eyes hypnotized by Randy's glittering, brown eyes.
Exactly! Brothers do that. They practice on each other.
Suddenly, they kissed, and their smooching turned into a grand sucking whirlwind.
"Mmmmmmmm!" Randy whined under his breath, pumping hornily into Brad.
The long-haired blond rubbed his 4-inch cock along the base, threw his head back to the massaging that Randy was giving his boy prostate, and squirted two, four, eight, ten times.
Randy quivering like a jalopy, he nuzzled his bulb-shaped nose tightly against Brad's warm neck.
At last, Randy's muscles relaxed as he rested on Brad.