Big Boys Club part 1
by No'-as-gay-as-Gay-Willy-but-gayer-than-Straight-Willy Willy
Ten year old Timmy Robins awoke with the feeling that he was not alone in his room. Bleary eyed, he could make out the silhouettes of four older boys. He knew his brother was having a sleepover, so he assumed he and his gang were there to harass him.
"What do you want," he mumbled grumpily.
"We have something to ask you. Come back to the basement with us."
"Ask me here," Timmy replied.
His brother leaned in close and whispered, "It's not the kind of question you want overheard by parents."
This got Timmy's attention and brought him wide awake. Timmy's brother Chet was six years older than he, and the age difference had often caused problems. It wasn't unusual that Timmy followed his brother and the "gang" around trying to have big-boy fun. It also wasn't unusual for him to receive taunts of "Get lost punk.", and other endearments of love.
Timmy rolled out of bed and stumbled after the three forms in front of him. In his room there wasn't enough light to make out more than dark shapes, but once in the hallway, streetlights revealed more of the teens. Timmy saw with a surprise that his brother and his friends were all naked. Suddenly Timmy was convinced that the group hadn't woken him up just to tease him. Something exciting was happening.
When they got to the basement door, Chet stopped to let Timmy go ahead. All the lights were out, so they all carefully made a few steps down the stairs in the dark. Once he got the door shut, Chet turned on the basement lights. Timmy then got a good look at the teenage buns leading him down the steps. He was interested that one of the three had no tan lines at all.
He had a bigger surprise when the group started to turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs and Timmy could see that all of them had big boners. He turned around with his mouth hanging open and saw that his brother was also sporting a hard-on.
When they got fully into the room two of the boys flopped down on beanbag chairs on the floor, and the one with no tan lines and Timmy's brother stayed standing with Timmy. None of the boys made any attempt to hide their dicks, and the two in the chairs even adopted the "man-spread" position. One of them was even idly stroking his cock.
"We've all decided," his brother started, "that it was time for you to join the Big-Boys Club."
Timmy was looking hard to see if this was some kind of elaborate joke, but he could only hear and see sincerity from his brother.
"Before you can be a member, though, you have to be found eligible and pass an initiation."
Timmy felt a little light headed. His stomach did a flip or two. "Will I be worthy?" he wondered, "What will I have to do?"
Without waiting for Timmy to respond, Chet looked to no tan guy, (Timmy just remembered his name was Allen), and said in a contrived voice, "Master-at-arms, I have a prospective candidate. Will you check his qualifications?"
"Very well, Mr. President. I have the list right here."
Allen held up his flat hand, with the palm facing him. Timmy could see that he was pretending to read from a piece of paper.
"Item number one, has the prospective candidate a dick?"
Chet looked at his brother from head to toe with an almost comic studious look and turned back to Allen. "Master-at-arms, that cannot be determined at this time."
"Pity then. This examination is over," Allen said, dropping his hand.
Timmy stared back and forth between the two with his mouth agape. "What are they playing at?" he thought. "You know I have a dick, Chet! You've seen it before!" he blurted.
Chet looked at Allen. "The prospect claims to be in possession of a dick, Master-at-arms."
"Can you verify that, Mr. President?"
"I cannot, Master-at-arms, said prospect is wearing pajama bottoms."
Both of them turned to me and stared without saying anything. Both boys on the floor were chuckling.
Something in Timmy's brain evaluated the situation. The laughter didn't seem to be mean. They weren't laughing at him, more with him. Allen and Chet weren't making any more comments. The next move seemed to be up to him.
Suddenly realizing what was expected of him, Timmy grabbed the band of his pj bottoms and pulled them down to the ground. Even though the other boys were completely naked, Timmy could feel his face flush from embarrassment.
The boys in the chairs laughed with delight, (not scorn Timmy noted), and his brother turned back to Allen.
"The candidate has demonstrated that he does indeed possess a dick."
"Very good. On to item two," Allen replied, bringing his paper back up to his face.
Timmy bent over and pulled his bottoms back up and grinned at himself for figuring out their little game. "This might actually be some fun," he thought.
Before the "Master-at-arms" could ask the next question however, Timmy's brother cleared his throat and announced, "Unfortunately, Master-at-arms, the candidate's dick status can be no longer verified."
Allen peered over his hand at Timmy and sighed. "Mr. President, as for as you know, is the candidate mentally challenged?"
"Master-at-arms, as long as I have known the candidate, he has shown himself to be very intelligent and thoughtful in every circumstance. I'm sure he will come up to speed very shortly."
Timmy was a bit flabbergasted at the nice things his brother said. He'd never heard him speak positively about Timmy. But he quickly snapped out of his surprise and knew what to do. He pulled his bottoms back down and stepped out of them completely, kicking them aside.
"Master-at-arms, the prospective candidate's dickness has been re-validated."
The other boys laughed and applauded. Timmy was trying not to grin too much.
"Let's carry on, then. Does the candidate's dick have the proper stiffness?"
Chet looked down at Timmy's dick. Timmy felt his stomach drop. He'd just started getting boners, and he had little control over their coming and going. The best he could manage was to try to get a wank in whenever one appeared. He was sure he'd fail this part of the examination.
Chet didn't reply but surprised Timmy by reaching down and lightly fondling his wiener.
"The candidate does not seem to be experiencing a boner at this time, Master-at-arms, but that is not unusual considering the stressful situation. I can personally vouch, however, that the prospect does have the capability of erection."
Timmy's shock at being handled by his brother was replaced by the shock of this announcement. "When the hell did he see my boner?" he wondered.
"In fact, Master-at-arms, it is a well-known fact that the candidate does enjoy the odd wank or two."
Now Timmy felt like his face was on fire. The two spectators were rolling around on the floor holding their guts with laughter. Comments of "Cheers, old sport!" and "Well done, that man!" were bursting out between guffaws.
"Order in the examination room, please," Allen intoned. The other two gradually settled down.
"Item the third," Allen continued. "Does the prospective candidate possess and asshole?"
Timmy gasped. He was getting used to the salty language of the older boys, but this word seemed to take it to another level. He turned to his brother with a shocked look on his face. His brother didn't say anything, but he cocked one eyebrow and tilted his head to look in the direction of Timmy's rear.
Timmy tried to swallow, but his mouth was to dry. Slowly he turned and bending over at the waist, he presented his backside to his brother.
Chet said nothing, but cleared his throat suggestively. Timmy's heart was beating a mile-a-minute. He knew what was expected. He reached back with both hands and pulled his ass cheeks apart. The basement air felt cool on his exposed asshole.
"The candidate does possess and asshole, Master-at-arms. It appears to be virgin."
Timmy's head began to spin due to the blood rushing toward it. Or was it because of the thoughts racing through his mind? "What have I gotten myself into?" he thought.
"Can the peanut gallery confirm that the third item is satisfied?" Allen asked.
Timmy was confused about the term "peanut gallery", but figured it out quick enough when one of the seated boys spoke up.
"We cannot, m'lord."
Timmy heard a thud along with the sound of skin slapping. Someone had gotten an arm slug. "You don't call him m'lord unless he's the judge in a trial, dummy!" he said.
Timmy was momentarily distracted by the antics of the two spectators, but soon realized his next step. Still holding his butt cheeks apart, Timmy pivoted so his asshole was facing the rest of the boys.
"Hold on, Master-at-arms. We may have something here!"
Timmy heard the boys leave their seats on the floor, and felt them come near. Very near.
"Deary me, where are my reading glasses," one of them japed.
"I've seen better specimens, but it definitely appears to be an asshole. I will withhold judgment as to it's viginosity until a later time," the other intoned.
"I can't seem to make out much more than a blur," the joking on said. Then Timmy felt a gust of warm air on his open asshole, and heard a snuffling sound. The joker continued in a voice that sounded very near, "but I can tell from it's scent that this is indeed an asshole, your worship."
Timmy heard the sound of another arm punch, and giggling as the two spectators returned to their seats.
Allen said, "The candidate may resume his standing position."
Timmy stood up and looked over at the two that had such an intimate view of his asshole. He knew which one had smelled his butt. He had a bright red spot on his arm from the punching. Both boys had lost their boners somewhat, but were busy tugging at their dicks to get them to return. Timmy realized with a blush that they were tugging on each other.
"The fourth and final qualification is thus: does the candidate possess a mouth?"
Timmy knew his mouth could be plainly seen, and besides he had been talking. He was at a loss as to what to do, but then Allen continued.
Timmy opened his mouth.
Timmy opened his mouth as wide as he could.
"... without showing any teeth?"
Timmy managed to close his lips around his teeth while keeping it as far open as he could. He figured he must look very surprised to the others.
The two on the floor were whooping and hollering. "He did it!" one cried "It's beautiful!" the other exclaimed. "I call dibs!" the first hollered. "You can't call dibs, idiot!" the second countered, "He's got a brother." "Oh yeah," the first conceded. "Lucky bastard."
Timmy was grinning now despite his effort to keep his teeth hidden. But he didn't have to worry because Allen then said, "The candidate has met all club requirements and is eligible for initiation."
Timmy was laughing out loud now. Mostly from the relief of the examination being over, but also because of the antics of the "peanut gallery". Both the other boys were on their feet now jumping up and down and hugging each other. Timmy was almost mesmerized by the sight of their boners bobbing up and down with each jump. He was also intrigued that the two didn't even seem to notice that their dicks were rubbing together when they hugged.
The two came forward, and scooping up the "president" and "master-at-arms" gathered all five boys in one big hug with Timmy in the middle. In his joy, Timmy was only partially aware that four teenage boners were pressed to different parts of his body at the same time.
Timmy's brother broke the hug and said, "All right, all right, quiet down. My parents aren't deaf you know. Do you want them coming down here and seeing all this?"
"Let them come!" one joked, "We'll initiate them, too!" Which earned him another arm punch. This time from both sides at the same time. "Hey, no fair!" he complained. "Two against one!"
"It'll be three against one if you don't settle down," Allen threatened. Timmy could see why Allen was the Master-at-arms.
"There's just about enough time for phase one of the initiation," Allen said, peering at the clock. Timmy turned to look and was surprised that it was one o'clock in the morning. Even on New Year's Day he hadn't been up this late. "How long has this been going on?" he wondered. But then, he didn't know what time they had woken him up.
Timmy hoped that phase one wouldn't take too much time.