Date: Sun, 12 Nov 2000 07:37:57 GMT From: Dream Spinner Subject: "A Brewster Veteran's Day" (t/b, m/b, m/t, incest) Caution/Welcome. This is a story involving four brothers, one preteen, one recently turned thirteen-year-old and two fourteen-year-old twins three weeks away from their fifteenth birthday, a cub den, a community hall, a scout pack, a few packs of viagra, a pack of itching powder, a keg, a collection of veterans, and a few hypocrites, a bigot and a couple righteous do-gooders. If you believe every cub, scout and scout leader is straight or has no sexual desires and that the elderly are dead from the waist down, this story will surprise you. If you've read the first eighteen stories in this series, nothing will surprise you. This story is posted at free gay adult story sites for adult entertainment only. Permission is not given to copy electronically nor in any other form for the purpose of redistribution or posting at sites other than those described here. This is the nineteenth of the Brewster Boys special events and myths series. Readers are welcome to send the author, J.O. Dickingson, comments and story suggestions at authorsix@hotmail.com The Brewster's advice for today for all you scouts and veterans: be prepared carry a six pack of condoms wherever you go. A Brewster Veteran's Day "Oh maaaaan, isn't this going to be great?" twelve-year-old Benny asked his brothers, the ninety-four pound, four-foot-ten youngster bouncing in his seat with excitement. "Oh yeah!" replied his older brother, fourteen-year-old Brent, his deep blue eyes sparkling. "This is so wicked!" "I just can't wait to tell everyone at school tomorrow," Benny said, shifting about in the plastic chair in the hallway as if he had to go to the bathroom. "Yeah, we're so lucky to have parents like ours," said Brent's twin brother Brett as he brushed his long, blond hair from his eyes and looked down the hall at his mother and father talking to the doctor. Brenda Brewster's pregnancy had become very evident over the past month, and as her sons looked at her they all thought back to last Mother's day and Bobby's special gift to their mother. Speaking of which, they all looked at their kid brother who had been uncharacteristically silent during the drive to the hospital and while they were waiting for the doctor. "You okay, Bobby?" asked Brett. Bobby stared down at the floor blankly. "Bobby?" "Huh?" Bobby responded, looking up blankly at his older brother. "You okay? You've been awful quiet." "Yeah, I'm okay," Bobby replied in a flat monotone. "You sure the fuck don't sound it," observed Benny. "Yeah. What's up little bro?" "You guys really okay with this?" the boy asked, looking up at his three brothers with his big, hazel eyes. He'd just turned eleven three weeks ago, on the second of the month, and thought he was pretty sophisticated, but this was a shock to the normally outgoing and unflappable preteen. "With what?" "You know. With Mom showing us her baby." "Sure," replied Benny with a shrug. "Yeah, this is going to be so wicked," repeated Brent. "Bet not every guy gets to see his new brother while he's still in his mom's tummy." The boys were certain the newest addition to their family was going to be another boy. "That's just it," said Bobby. "Don't you feel weird about to look up Mom's cunt?" "Huh?" "I mean, watching her and dad screwing was one thing, and looking at Suzie's and Cheryl's things was interesting and stuff," the youngster observed with a shrug. "And exposing Miss Depree last month and messing around with her pussy while she was asleep was wicked, but this is our Mom's cunt for fucksake." "What are you going on about?" asked Brent, knitting his brow in perplexity. "That's our kid brother," observed his twin. "His mind is all messed up from too much wanking." "I'm serious, guys." "You're serious?" chorused his brothers in mock surprise. "His mind really is messed up." "And so young too," said Brett sadly and his brothers giggled. "So, you guys don't feel the slightest bit strange squatting down between Mom's legs and looking up her cunt." Bobby's three brothers glanced at each other. "Is that what you think we're gonna do?" asked Benny. "Well, aren't we?" "Fuck no. That's not how you look at a baby," said Benny, the authority on anything sexual. "They got this machine, an ultrasound transducer. It's sort of like a flashlight connected to a cable, and it sends soundwaves that can penetrate the body because the doctor puts this gel stuff on the mother's tummy first, see. The waves bounce off the baby because of course he got no gel stuff, and are turned into a picture by this transducer machine, sort of like how a computer changes digital signals into a jpeg, and the picture of the baby shows up on a TV monitor." Not just Bobby looked at Benny in surprise. When it came to sexual facts, Benny was a walking encyclopaedia. Of course the twins knew better than to think they were going to look up their mother's cunt, but even they didn't know anything about gels or transducers. Once again their younger brother had impressed them with his vast knowledge. If they ever had a game of sexual trivia, something the boys had actually considered developing and marketing, there was no question they'd want to be on his team. "Sheesh, Bobby, did you really think Mom was going to spread apart her legs and her cunt lips and we were going to look up her pussy?" Benny continued, raising his right eyebrow just like his dad and looking at his younger brother incredulously. "Well hey, how am I supposed to know? I'm the cute brother, not the smart one." His three brothers looked at each other, and then at him. "You are?" they said together in mock surprise. "Too much wanking," they chorused as they nodded seriously, and the three burst into laughter. "Well, you boys are in good spirits," observed Barry Brewster as he rejoined his sons. "Oh yeah," agreed Brett. "So when we gonna get to see the baby." "In a few minutes," Barry said. Ten minutes later the Brewster men were ushered into a small room. Brenda was laying on her back on the table, which made her stomach seem even more monstrous than it was. On a cart beside her was the ultrasound machine, which to the boys looked like a large computer keyboard and monitor. It was connected to a second monitor suspended from the ceiling so that they and their mom could watch during the examination. The Brewster men crowded together at the head of the bed and looked up at the monitor as the nurse, the sonographer, passed the transducer, which to the boys looked more like a microphone than a flashlight, back and forth over their mother's bloated stomach. "Mmmm," she said. "Looks like our suspicious were right." The boys looked at her curiously, and then at their parents, who were beaming at each other like two Cheshire cats. "I'm going to turn on the TV monitor now." As she adjusted the equipment, the boys thought back to Mother's Day five months ago and the fun they'd had with their "maid" for the day, and the fun their dad had had humping their mom like a randy young man of eighteen again, thanks to a bit of assistance from his sons. Little did he know at the time that the condoms he'd been using had been punctured by his youngest son. Nor did he know the four boys had taken several opportunities that day to watch their two parents satisfy their lust. The boys turned their attention to the TV monitor as the image cleared, thankful for the distraction before their crotches revealed the nature of their thoughts. "Wicked!" exclaimed Brett, his deep blue eyes growing wide as he stared at the image. "Holy sh-, sh-, shoot," stumbled Benny. "He's got two heads?" "Two babies!" exclaimed Brent, his one arm wrapped about his twin brother as he leaned forward to look at the blurry image closer. "Another pair of twins," Barry confirmed, something the doctor had suspected last month from the weight Brenda had put on. "Fu-, fu-, fu-, for crying out loud!" sputtered Bobby. Brenda frowned. When school had resumed, she had insisted Bobby be tested by the speech pathologist and they had started him on remedial lessons. She knew it had only been four weeks, but she was hoping to see some improvement in his stuttering. What she did not know was that the therapy lessons were during music class, a subject Bobby hated, and that a hot looking high school student by the name of Zac Williams was earning work experience credits by helping the elementary students with their speech drills. Bobby had decided he was going to have a stuttering problem for the year, or until he got in Zac's pants anyway. "Way to go Mom," said Benny. "Oh yeah. And you too Dad," said Brent, punching his dad in the arm. "Yeah. Wow. A double shot!" exclaimed Brett, slapping his dad on the back. "Fu-, fu-, fu-, for crying out loud," repeated Bobby as he stared at the two little images snuggled up to each other. "Have you picked out their names yet?" "How about Love and Wrestling?" suggested Bobby, thinking of their two Pilgrim ancestors. "Or Lust and Screwing," mouthed Brent behind the back of his hand, causing Bobby and Brett to giggle. "Actually, we were thinking of Blaine and Blake," their father said. "Which one's which?" "Well, we haven't decided that. We weren't really sure there were twins until now." "Hi there!" called out Bobby. "Hi little Blaine and little Blakey!" "Hi!" chorused the twins. "I think the one on the left should be Blake," announced Bobby. "Why?" "He just looks like a Blake is all. Look, he even turned and looked at me when I said his name, see!" "I don't think so, Bobby," his mother advised with a smile. "Benny?" Barry asked, noticing his middle son was markedly silent. "Hmmm." "You okay?" The twelve-year-old ran his hands through his gelled, dark brown hair, and glanced at his brothers, and then at his father. "Well. . . ." "What is it?" "Am I the only one who's noticed?" "Noticed what?" "Well, the one on the left, Blake, he's, well, he's sort of developed funny." "What do you mean?" "Well, his legs are little and stubby, and well, well he's got three of them." "Oh," said the sonographer with a smile. "That's the normal size for a fetus's leg this stage of the second trimester, and," she said with a bit of hesitation, "the one in the middle isn't his leg." "It isn't?" Benny asked, looking back at the screen. His eyes gradually widened as he slowly realized what the sonographer meant. He looked back up at his Dad. "You mean. . . ?" Barry nodded proudly. "Hey, way to go little Blakey!" called Bobby. "Except little Blakey ain't so little," observed Brent. "A real Brewster," said Brett. "Oh yes," observed Brenda as she looked up at her husband adoringly. "Actually," the sonographer said with blush, "it's not normally that large, but it seems, well, at the moment, it's extended with blood." "That okay?" asked Brent, suddenly worried about his little baby brother's health. "Extended with blood, get it," whispered Brett as he gave his brother a nudge. "Oh!" Brent said, his big blue eyes growing even wider. The boys glanced at each other and slowly their lips curled into wide grins. "A real Brewster!" they chorused. "Oh yes," Brenda repeated, her eyes still on her husband. She and Barry had been thinking of the day the new set of twins had been conceived and really had not been paying attention to the boys' conversation. Blake turned around and snuggled up behind Blaine. Benny nudged Brent and the four boys giggled. "Just like you were always trying to do me when we was in Mom," Brent whispered to his twin brother. "Couldn't help it, you had such a cute ass," Brett whispered back. "Now," said the sonographer, taking the boys' restlessness as a sign they'd lost interest, "I need to do some measurements and take a finer look, if you've seen enough." "Sure," Barry said. "While you finish with the ultrasound and checkup, I'll go down to see ol'Mister Burns," he advised his wife. "That's fine dear. Give him my regards." "Wow, twins!" Brent said excitedly as they waited for the elevator. "Yeah, just imagine, another pair of twins!" "Fu-, fu-, fu-, futastic!" agreed Bobby. "Futastic?" giggled his brothers as the elevator doors opened and they crowded into the elevator. "And he had a little erection!" observed Benny, and they all giggled even louder as the other adults on the elevator either gave them and their father disapproving looks, or stared up at the floor numbers and pretended they hadn't heard the boys. Barry didn't know how to respond it wasn't as if the boys had been vulgar, and they were right. The little squirt had had an erection! Alex Burns was an elderly gentleman who lived down the street from the Brewsters. Normally spry and cheerful, he'd been having difficulty mending ever since breaking his hip over the summer, resulting in him having developed a depressed, fatalistic attitude. Barry stopped in to try to cheer him up as often as he could and was saddened to see the once lively senior so thin and weak. "So, how is the missus today?" the elderly man asked as he struggled to sit up. "Just fine," Barry replied as he helped him. "Mom and babies." "Babies?" "Twins," Barry beamed. "Just confirmed. We just took the boys for their first look." "Well, so what do you think of your old dad, twins none the less!" the elderly man chuckled with a twinkle in his eyes. "Oh yeah, wicked!" said Brett. "Wicked?" asked the old gentleman, looking up at Barry. "The cat's whiskers," said Barry with a grin, and the old man broke into a toothless smile, the first in many weeks. "So these days it's wicked. Youngsters have always had a language of their own," he chuckled. He thought for a moment, reflecting on his own youth. "Must be great to know you still have it in you," he observed, looking up at Barry. "Actually," whispered Benny to his brothers, "he had it in Mom." "It was great to have yours in me last night," whispered Bobby. "And bet you wish it still was," added Brett. "Boys." "Sorry, Dad," the boys replied automatically, even Brent although he hadn't been whispering. "Do you have any kids, Mister Burns?" asked Brett to distract his dad. "Oh yes, seven." "Wow, seven. You had it in you too," observed Brett to his father's surprise. Figuring his son had to be parroting the old timer, there being no way that he could know what that phrase meant, Barry made a note that he really should sit down and have a talk with his boys about the facts of life. "Yes, a long time ago," Alex Burns said with a sigh, interrupting Barry's thoughts. "Now I can't even sit up on my own, never mind get that up." "I'm sure the doctors will have you up and about in no time." "Well, maybe up out of bed, but not up," the man said wistfully. "Haven't been up for twenty years, and with the missus gone, not much point in it happening anyway. No woman could ever replace Mary." Barry didn't know how to respond to that, especially with his four sons there beside him. He again wondered just how much of the conversation they were understanding. "Would be nice to be a teenager again," Alex said, looking at the four boys standing respectfully beside their dad, each one shocked speechless by the elderly gentleman's previous statement. What had left them speechless wasn't the fact that he'd said it in front of them, but what he had said. That the old gentleman hadn't had an erection for twenty years, and had no desire to have one, was unfathomable to the four very healthy and prurient boys. They could not possibly imagine a day going by without having at least four or five erections, and they could not imagine anyone not wanting to have one. "Bet you boys are up from the moment you wake until you go to bed," Alex cackled. The boys glanced at each other and flushed as they wondered how he knew, and Barry fidgeted. He was glad the elderly man was in an unusually chipper mood, but he was embarrassed also. It had been many years since the old man's children had been the age of his boys, and he evidently had forgotten how careful an adult had to speak around impressionable young minds. "I know. I remember what it was like," he continued, a twinkle in his otherwise dulled eyes. "Ah, what I'd give to be a teenager for even just a day." He glanced across the room, lost in his dreams. "You have fine-looking boys, Barry," he observed finally. "And I bet they're smart as whips too." "Yes, they're doing well in school. Bobby's in grade six and Benny in grade eight and both are getting good marks. Brent and Brett are in high school now, and have made the high school basketball team," replied Barry, glad the conversation had turned to a more comfortable topic. "Well, haven't made all of them," mouthed Benny behind his hand, causing the four boys to giggle. "Not yet," whispered Brett, causing the four of them to giggle even more. "And full of piss and vinegar, I see," observed Alex. The boys had no idea what that meant, but the way he said it and the way their dad smiled, it was evidently something good to be full of. They were not accustomed to an adult swearing in front of them, or making sexual innuendos, both of which had endeared the old man to them. As for Barry, it was the best mood he'd seen the senior in for weeks so he was not about to object to his R-rated conversation. It was far better than sitting there seeing him in pain and hearing him wish he was dead. "They are full of life," Barry agreed with a proud smile. There was no question that they were all boy. "Yes," observed the elderly man. "I used to hear about them now and then when I was able to get around." "I'm sure you'll be out of here soon," Barry said encouragingly, hoping to steer the topic away from his boys' shenanigans. "Well, I'll be out of here for November thirteenth," he observed. "I'll not be celebrating Veteran's day in the hospital. After that, well . . . ," he said with a shrug. As the conversation drifted off to Veteran's Day and the war, the boys' minds wandered. When they joined their mother in the lobby, their dad was deep in thought also. "You're awful quiet, dear," Brenda observed as they headed for home. "Hmmm? Oh. Yeah. Was thinking." "About?" "Old Alex Burns. He's so down. Seeing the boys and talking bout the babies cheered him up, but it was only for the moment. I'm afraid he's just hanging in for Veteran's Day, and after that, well. . . ." "Oh no!" "Afraid so. He just doesn't seem to have the will to live anymore." "That's sad. He used to be so cheerful. It's too bad things have to change." "Yes. And speaking of change, that was the other thing I was thinking about, the meeting coming up, the one James Forsythe has called about the Scouts." The boys' ears perked up. "He's insisting on pushing his idea of screening all the boys in the program, and all the leaders, and anyone new in the future." "What in heaven's name for?" "Well, you know Forsythe," Barry sighed. "The national headquarters has clearly announced they are not going to make any effort to discover a person's orientation, but Forsythe doesn't think that goes far enough. Ever since the Supreme Court ruled at the end of June in favour of the BSA expelling that assistant troop leader in New Jersey for being gay, he's been ranting and raving about morals and ethics and how the BSA is one of the last true American traditions, and of course he has quite a crowd following him, and quite a crowd against him. It is really threatening to split the scouting parents, and the community." Just how split the community was became clear at the meeting in the Community Hall the following week. As the CEO of Forsythe Enterprises, James Forsythe was one of the two major financial backers of the local boy scout troop and cub pack and a very influential individual. He argued that the Scout Oath to keep oneself "physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight" meant being heterosexual, and he used every argument the BSA lawyers had used against the gay leader, James Dale. Reverend Bentley, whose church was sponsoring the troop and whose son Cole was an Eagle Scout and the assistant troop leader, added that under no circumstances did the church condone homosexuality, and reminded everyone that a scout swore to do his duty to God. Lining up on their side was Anthony Maartens, the town's major, whose two sons were active leaders in the scouts, thirteen-year-old Eric having reached the rank of first class, and sixteen-year-old Danny the rank of star scout. Of course everyone knew the mayor took whichever side he figured was to his political advantage, which in this case was the side for family values and American morals, but still, he was an important figure to have on their side. Martha Richards was not a surprise either even though her children and grandchildren had never even been in the scout movement. The matronly grandmother had taken it upon herself to watch over the morals of the youth of the town many years ago, and so far had successfully campaigned for a curfew and the closure of the only bar to offer lap dancing, and was constantly reviewing the books in the local library and the magazine stores for porn even though she had no legal authority to do so. Nor was anyone surprised to hear Wilson Carter stand up and speak against having gay men and youth in the scouts. Wilson had also spoken against blacks being in scouts when the first black family had moved into town since he didn't think it would be fair for them to try to meet the scout's standards considering their mental and genetic inferiority, and although he had no problem with the Gonzalez family starting up a landscaping business in town, he wasn't sure if Juan's children would be capable of upholding the Scout Law, particularly being trustworthy, obedient, and clean, being Mexican and all. Speaking on the for side was Henry Farnsworth, the president of Wecare Pet Supplies Limited and the other major financial backer. He had been a scout himself, and so had his sons and so were his grandsons at the moment. A forward thinking man, he believed that when the scout law said a scout was to respect those with ideas and customs other than his own and was to respect and defend the rights of all people, that extended to those who were gay. As the president of a company with international markets, he travelled around the world, and like most people who travel, he had a much broader outlook on things. Of course many locals had never been out of the state, and to them anyone who travelled wasn't really a local. Barry supported Farnsworth's views, not just because he was third vice-president in the company, but because he truly believed that being gay was not contrary to the scouting movement, nor to the American dream, and those views had nothing to do with the sexual orientation of his brother James. The Brewsters were known to be strong community supporters and dedicated volunteers for a number of major charities, and to be a solid, churchgoing family. Of course their four sons were a mite too lively for some of the neighbours and the immediate suspects if there was any mischief about, and the strictness of their parents, or rather the lack of it, was a frequent dinner time topic in the Crestview neighbourhood. Still, the Brewster family was a highly respected family, and they were, after all, direct descendants from the Mayflower Pilgrims. Supporting them was Harold Bingham, a prominent lawyer and highly respected citizen, whose son Wally was a scout, and who unbeknown to anyone had recently come out to him. Of course a select group of high school students knew that the one-time bully and fine featured grade eleven student was not just gay, but a mincing queen and a sure bet if you weren't scoring and needed a blow job. Ibrahim Nejrue, one of the few black men in town knew about bullies and prejudice, and he knew his son Solomon's antagonistic attitude was in part because of that. He also knew being in the scouts was helping his boy cope with being different. So, he spoke for the for side, not because of any support for homosexuals, but because he was against discrimination of any kind. Daring to put his position on the line was Mark Alden, grade four teacher and cubmaster in charge of the cub den. Mark was a happily married man with a sixteen-year-old son in grade eleven who was a life scout, but he'd messed around with guys in his youth, and he knew many boys messed around sexually, including some of those in his cub pack. To him, that was a natural part of being a boy, and he knew all this talk about homosexuality was creating some very heavy guilt feelings for some of his cubs. That he felt was wrong, and he felt strongly enough about it to speak out. It was an emotional meeting that degenerated into a shouting match and accusations by both sides, and ended with the decision to put the issue aside while they prepared for Veteran's Day, and to take a vote on Forsythe's motion later in November. That had been old Ty Cobb's suggestion. Ty was seventy-five and had been scoutmaster for at least three generations of boys. He had not declared a side despite bullying attempts by Forsythe to make him do so. He knew that no matter which side he took, it would alienate half of his financial supporters and probably half of his longtime friends, and he was more concerned about whether they would be able to continue the scout troop if one of the backers pulled out than he was about the issue of homosexuality. As far as he was concerned, that was a big city issue, not one that they needed to concern themselves with. There wasn't a homosexual for a hundred miles around to his knowledge. The meeting generated a lot of talk in the households about town the rest of the week, including at the supper table at the Brewsters, and in the boys' bedroom afterward. "Well, I think Forsythe's motion is totally dumb," announced Brett as he flopped down on his bed. "Yeah, me too," agreed Brent, hopping up on the top bunk above his brother and sitting on the edge with his feet hanging over. "Who you have sex with got nothing to do with the Scout Oath or the Scout Law or nothing." "Yeah," agreed Benny. "So what if a guy likes another guy?" "Fuckin' right," observed Bobby. "A scout is a friend to all. He is a brother to other Scouts. He seeks to understand others. He respects those with ideas and customs other than his own," the four boys chorused, having leaped to their feet and given the scout salute as they recited the fourth Scout Law. "Forsythe just respects those with ideas like his," Brent observed, straddling his chair backwards and resting his chin on the back. "Those whose ideas go back to when dinosaurs roamed the land," observed Brett, leaning against one of the double bunks. "And those that suck up to him," added Bobby. "Fuckin' right," Benny agreed. "Why don't they see it's a bunch of crock?" observed Brett, who was the one who most often thought things through of the four brothers. "American morals and decency and yadda yadda yadda. He don't really believe in all that, he's just trying to be a big shot pretending to be so upright and decent and everything. It's so fucking evident that he's just doing it because he thinks it makes him look like a hero, and because he thinks it will be good for his business." "Adults are so dumb sometimes," observed Brent, the quietest and most serious, and most sensitive, of the four brothers. "Yeah," the others agreed. "So what we gonna do about it?" "We just got until the meeting after Veteran's Day." "Hey, speaking of Veteran's Day I wonder if old Mister Burns will be there." "I hope he is. He's sortta cool." "Yeah. Did you see the twinkle in his eyes when he said that Dad still had it in him?" asked Brent. "Yeah," his brothers observed. "Can you imagine not having a boner for twenty years?" asked Benny, wrinkling up his nose. "Ewwww," the boys responded, and the four shuddered as a chill passed up their spines with the thought. "Did he really mean there wasn't any point of being able to get a woodie anyway?" asked Bobby. "Well, his wife is dead." "So he can still jerk off," suggested Bobby. "Guys that age can still come, can't they?" The three brothers all looked at Benny. "Sure, I once read in an advice column that they can, if they are healthy and everything," the twelve-year-old advised. "He could mess with other old guys whose wives are dead too," suggested Brent. "I wish we could do something to help him," observed Benny. They all agreed and sat there staring off into space, deep in thought. They were silent for an exceptionally long time, at least two or three minutes, which for the hyper Brewster boys, was a record. "Maybe we can help him, and other old guys like him, and fix it so that they never vote on that dumb motion at the same time," said Brett seriously. "How?" "I got an idea." The boys leaned in closer to listen to Brett's plan. Being the logical thinker of the four, they were not surprised he had an idea, and when he was finished, they all agreed it was awesome. That settled, they decided to play a game of crotchya. It was three weeks yet before Veteran's Day way too far ahead to think about it. Eight o'clock Monday morning, November 13th, three days after Benny's thirteenth birthday, the four Brewsters, bright eyed and bushy tailed as their grandfather would say, headed over to the community hall in their scouting uniforms to join the other scouts in hanging up the flags and banners of the various groups who were going to be taking part in the ceremonies, and to set up the rows upon rows of chairs. "I need someone to help me bring in the cross, and the stands for the wreaths and some other stuff," announced Cole Bentley. "James, Danny." The two sixteen-year-olds, working on their final requirements to become Life Scouts, readily joined the assistant leader. "We'll help too," called Brent and he and Brett joined their school mates, James Forsythe and Danny Maartens. Ever since the Bastille Day parade, the two older boys had been waiting for an opportunity to get their revenge on the twins. It would be a small thing, but for starters they'd make sure the two boys carried the heaviest objects into the community hall. "Hey, Solomon, come give us a hand," Brett said as they met the black youth at the door. The black teenager had also had thoughts of getting revenge on the Brewster brothers, in his case ever since Thanksgiving a year ago. "Hesperth and Clothe, spinners of dreams," began Brett, rasing his right hand and beginning to perform a series of gestures with his fingers as the six of them stepped up to the Bentley's van. "Brewster, what the heck you doing now?" asked James Forsythe. Sometimes Brett and his brothers acted so strange. Brett continued with his gestures and a moment later the four boys slumped on the ground unconscious, the result of the spell he'd recited from the wizard's spell book he'd gotten just over a year ago when he and his brothers had been attacked by four very evil beings, who'd also been on a mission of revenge for perceived wrongs the brothers had done to one of their own. Over the years a diverse group of humans and nonhumans was forming that did not appreciate the efforts of the four brothers to expand their sexual horizons. "Wicked spell," said Brent with a wide grin. "Sure is," agreed Brett. "We better hurry before someone comes." "Huh?" "We better ," began Brett, and then reaching over, plucked the cotton from his twin's right ear. As the caster of the spell he hadn't had to worry, but his brother had had to block his ears or he'd have been stretched out on the ground with the other four. "We better hurry before someone comes." "Right," Brent agreed, taking a narrow six-inch long hose and a packet out of the inside pocket of his scout jacket as Brett quickly pulled down the pants and underwear of the four boys. Opening the packet and pinching the hose closed an inch from the end, he sprinkled some of the powder in the pinched end. Then, while his brother pulled apart Cole's butt cheeks, he carefully stuck that end in and then eased the hose up the eighteen-year-old's rectum as far as he could. Placing his mouth at the other end of the hose, he blew into it several times. Removing it, he quickly reached for more powder. "Better make sure you put the powder in the same end as the first time or you're going to have a surprise when you blow it up the next guy's asshole," observed Brett with a grin. "Ewww," responded his brother as he wrinkled up his nose, and they giggled as he inserted the hose up Danny's rectum, and with a couple strong puffs, blew the powder up his rectum. After doing James and Solomon, they pulled up the boys' underwear and trousers. "Now hear my words," Brett said, addressing the four spellbound boys. "For the next eight hours, each time you hear the word 'free' you'll want to get off a load worst than you've ever felt in your life, and the more often you hear it, the hornier you'll get." He looked at Brent and the two brothers high-fived before he brought their victims out of their spell. "Sheesh, that was something," he said as the four boys on the ground looked at each other in a daze, and them about them. "What the heck happened?" asked Cole as he sat up. "James slipped, and Solomon tripped over him, and then Danny fell over them and knocked you to the ground. You all musta hit your heads or something." The four looked at each other, and then at the twins as they got to their feet. They were not believing that for one moment, not after their past encounters with the two blond, blue-eyed demons, but they had no alternative explanations. Their suspicions grew even stronger as a few minutes later they felt an itch developing deep in their bowels, the result of the itching powder Brett had blown up their rectums. Opening and closing their assholes as they packed in the supplies, they gritted their teeth and tried to ignore the prickling deep in their bowels. They had no sooner set up the podium and the cross and the wreath stands than people began to arrive for the services along with the high school band, who set up in the front of the hall and began playing military marches while the people filed in and took their seats. The front rows were reserved for the speakers and dignitaries and of course the veterans, cubs, scouts and army cadets taking part in the services. The boys were pleased to see old Alex Burns slowly walk up to the front row with his walker, dressed in his World War II khaki's and with his medals all polished and hanging from his chest. As Cam Souyong stepped forward and played a solo on his trumpet, the attention of all four turned to him and Brent remarked that the handsome sixteen-year-old Thai youth could blow his horn anytime, a sentiment that his three brothers all readily agreed with. The ceremony began promptly at ten-thirty with the posting of the Nation's colours. The National, State, BSA and Seventy-third Army Cadet Corps flags were trooped in and placed in their stands, and two members of the Army Cadet Corps marched to the front of the hall and took their places on either side of the cross with their rifles pointed to the ground and their heads bowed. Despite the solemnity of the occasion, the four Brewster brothers could not help but fantasize about Neil Jasperson as he stood there in his Cadet uniform. Their fifteen-year-old classmate looked so hot in his military uniform and beret. The band began to play, and everyone stood to sing the National Anthem. "Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?" The Brewster brothers glanced at each other and smiled knowingly while farther along the row four boys wiggled uncomfortably as they felt a surge of desire in their loins and the itch up their rectums grew worse. By the time several hundred voices had called out the last line of the anthem for the third time, all four were embarrassingly erect. "Oh, thus be it ever when freemen shall stand," continued the crowd. Four of the freemen were more than just standing by then, they were throbbing with desire. Following the Pledge of Allegiance, the speeches began, starting with Mayor Maartens. "When Francis Scott Key wrote the 'Star Spangled Banner' almost two hundred years ago, he called American 'the land of the free and the home of the brave'," he began, and his son's cock ached so badly with desire the sixteen-year-old was afraid it would rip through his scout trousers. "Those words are as true today as they were then. Throughout this Nation's history, America's soldiers, sailors, airmen, Marines and coastguardsmen have bravely answered the call to defend our freedom." Danny, James, Solomon and Cole could barely keep still the desire in their loins was so bad. Beaming out at the crowd, Mayor Maartens had no idea what he was doing to his teenage son. The President of the American Legion was next, beginning his speech with reference to that year's poster, entitled "Freedom Is Not Free", much to the amusement of the four Brewster brothers. That was followed by prayers and blessings by the United Church minister, the priest from the Catholic church, and Reverend Bentley, representing the Evangelical churches. Following the minute of silence at eleven and the playing of taps, the representatives of the different groups came forward to lay their wreaths. One by one the Air Force Association, American Legion, American War Mothers, AMVETS, Disabled American Veterans, Korean War Veterans, Vietnam Veteran's Institute, WAVES, cubs, scouts, army cadets and scores of individuals added their wreaths below the cross and Cole, James, Danny and Solomon discretely slipped a hand behind them to jab at their anuses or cupped their hands before them and squeezed their crotches, the itching so bad they could not think of anything else. With the retiring of the colours, all four teenagers were thinking about heading to the washroom, hoping a crap would relieve the itch deep up their bowels, and while they wouldn't dare jerk off, hoping a discrete squeeze and a few seconds of rapid rubbing would satisfy the urge in their loins until they got home and could satisfy the need in private. Before they could seek relief, however, they had to help move the chairs and bring out some tables for the tea arranged afterwards. The ladies of the various service clubs in town had prepared sandwiches, vegetable plates and pastries, and urns of coffee and pitchers of juice ahead of time. In the kitchen a large bowl of punch had been set aside for the cubs, scouts and cadets who were responsible for serving the veterans, and a keg had been chilled specifically for the veterans' use. What nobody knew was that the Brewster brothers had discretely spiked the punch with several packets of Spanish Fly, which they had ordered through the net and paid for with their fake money courtesy of the warlock spell book. Those whose duty it was to serve were going to find it a very uplifting experience. The Brewster boys had similarly dissolved seven dozen Viagra tablets they'd also purchased off the net in the keg for the veterans. When they'd asked their father, he had anticipated at least two dozen veterans would be present, and figuring if they were all like old Mister Burns they'd need all the help they could get, the boys had decided on three tablets for each veteran and had thrown in another dozen for good measure. Solomon Nejrue, the thirteen-year-old second class scout who had immigrated from Sudan a year and a half ago, finally could take it no longer. With memories of the night of the Thanksgiving play when the Brewster boys had tied him up and stuffed his rectum, he took the longest carrot stick he could find and discretely slipped away to the first meeting room that was open in the hall to satisfy the itch up his asshole. Of course the Brewster boys had been watching and waiting, and when one of the veterans, from the Korean War by his medals and badges and who was either exceptionally well hung or feeling the effects of the beer and Viagra, headed for the washroom, Brett sprang into action. Covering up the washroom sign, the helpful first class scout directed the elderly veteran to the conference room where Solomon had headed. Discovering the good-looking, horny, black teenager standing there with his red and yellow scout tie askew, his trousers and jockey briefs about his ankles, his legs spread, working a carrot stick in and out of his rectum, the exceedingly horny seventy-five year old veteran and widowed grandfather did exactly what Brett had figured he would do, he unzipped his trousers and pulled out his throbbing erection. By that time Solomon was so horny and his bowels itching so badly, he eagerly withdrew the carrot stick and bent over, figuring the man's six inches would do a much better job of satisfying his itch. Besides, thanks to the Brewster brothers, it would not be the first time he'd had a cock up his ass, and also thanks to the Brewsters although he did not know it, he was feeling randy as all fuck. A minute later Danny Maartens headed down the hall, having decided to slip into one of the meeting rooms himself to have a quick jerk to at least satisfy one of his itches. Walking in on Solomon and the vet who were so intent on their fucking they did not notice him enter the room, the horny sixteen-year-old was surprised and almost backed out, but the desire in his loins won out over the logic of his mind. Pulling down his fly and extracting his stiff, aching cock, the star scout began to slowly stroke himself. He'd had no idea Solomon was gay, or that guys that were even older than his grandfather still had sexual urges, and as he mulled over his new information and watched the two he picked up the tempo. The horny teenager did not have any idea that at that very moment Brent was directing one of the second world war veterans to the meeting room. Needless to say, seeing one scout bent over and being furiously buggered and a second, a handsome five-foot-ten sixteen-year-old star scout with blond, spiked hair, long fine eyelashes and dark black eyebrows jerking off, the horny eighty-five year old vet, fired up by several pints of Viagra-laced beer, pulled out his cock and approached the horny Danish boy. Knowing what it was like to have a cock up his ass, thanks to the Brewster boys, and considering the itch deep up his rectum, unbeknownst to him but also thanks to the Brewsters, Danny more than willingly stepped out of his scout trousers and his boxers and assumed the same position as Solomon. Meanwhile, Wally Bingham, the sixteen-year-old who had switched from being the school bully to the school queen after Benny had scratched him with the tip of one of Cupid's arrows back when he was fourteen, was feeling the effects of the Spanish Fly laced punch and was looking around for someone he might satisfy his lust with. Brent moved over near the life scout, pretending to be refilling the glass of one of the veterans while Wally passed around the plate of cheese and crackers, and Brett stepped up and whispered in his brother's ear, loud enough for Wally to hear, that he had seen Danny Maartens getting screwed by one of the vets in meeting room number three. Of course Wally immediately slipped away to check it out, followed by one of the Vietnam War vets who had also heard the convenient whisper and was, to his surprise, feeling even randier than he'd felt as a young man in the war. Needless to say, upon seeing the two couples rutting as if their lives depended upon it, Wally willingly dropped to his knees and took out the vet's rapidly swelling sausage, and the vet willingly let the good-looking young scout service him. Unable to stand the itch up his rectum any longer, James Forsythe was the next to slip away with the longest carrot stick he could find hidden inside his scout jacket, hoping to do the same as Solomon had planned. Cole Bentley had seen the handsome, dark-haired and dark-eyed youth discretely fiddling with himself, and hoping to catch him in the act so he could use that as leverage to get the boy to do something with him, he gave the younger teen a minute to slip out of the room and then followed, just in time to see him enter the meeting room instead of the washroom. The two boys were still standing there in the room staring in disbelief at the scene in front of them when they were joined by two more veterans who had been seeking the solitary of the washroom to satisfy a most unexpected but welcome development. Having been unable to find the washroom, they had been directed to the meeting room by a most helpful young Tenderfoot scout, Bobby Brewster. Thanks again to the Brewsters, James was not new to the concept of getting his ass ploughed, and eighteen-year-old Cole, also thanks to the Brewsters at a much earlier date, had discovered gay sex, and had over the subsequent months, begun cruising the park for men. Both horny scouts readily stepped out of their trousers and bent over to accommodate the two vets, neither of whom were gay, but both horny enough that they readily accepted the alternative of a hot, moist asshole to their fists. By this time, the Brewster brothers had decided it was time for a full scale attack. Calling over Charles Elwood, their eight-year-old neighbour and hero worshipper, and a few of the other cubs who they knew were close friends of Charles, they told the boys to check out what was happening in meeting room three and to report back to them. The six young seven to eleven- year-olds were horny before they headed to the meeting room thanks to the spiked punch, and their cub uniforms were all tented out with little erections by the time they returned. Following Bobby's suggestion, they spread out, and each picking a vet, they took the unsuspecting adult down to the meeting room for an unexpected award. One cub who was totally innocent and two who knew the pleasure of fiddling with themselves were soon engaged in mutual jerk sessions with the veterans they had chosen. Two of the more daring cubs were prepared to do a good deed by blowing the vets they had picked out. Charles, knowing much more about the ways of men thanks to his neighbours and heros, was prepared to offer more than the warmth of his heart to the portly President of the local American Legion, and the portly president was more than willing to sink his aching stiff cock up the ass of the eight-year-old bear cub. After waiting a few minutes, the brothers, along with their closest friends, fifteen-year-old first class scout Billy Hollis, thirteen-year-old second class scout Justin Fording, and Aaron Porter, an eleven-year-old Tenderfoot like Bobby, selected a few veterans themselves, and joined the now frenzied activities in the meeting room. Having picked a grey-haired air force vet from the second world war who unlike many of the vets had kept his trim figure, the twins soon had his trousers and underwear off and the man on his hands and knees. While Brent slipped under him and began to lick his thick, cut cock, the randy teenager offered up his uncut erection. The man eagerly went down on him as Brett slipped up behind him and pushed his own erection, slick with KY, up the man's butt. In an identical position beside them, Benny was furiously fucking the backside of a slightly plumb gay vet from the second world war by the name of Mike Wolenski while the man happily engaged in a hot sixty-nine with young Bobby who was eagerly sucking the man's long, fat sausage. Word soon spread among the other veterans and the cubs, scouts and cadets as the first to leave returned to the hall, and soon there was a steady stream of elderly men and young boys heading to the room with bulging trousers, and returning with large smiles. Vets matched up with the young, randy scouts and cadets, vets matched up with other vets, and horny cubs eagerly plunged their tiny pricklets up the backsides of their equally horny older brothers. The meeting room was soon rank with the odour of hot, sweating balls and fresh cum. After several hours, as the crowd began to thin but before the coming and going of the vets and the extended absence of certain cubs and scouts began to be noticed, the Brewster brothers figured it was time to put the last part of their plan into action. Deciding to start with the most vocal and most insistent of the anti-gay side, Brent and Brett casually paused near where James Forsythe and his wife were sitting and talking to the Catholic priest. "I can't believe what's going on in meeting room three," whispered Brent. "Nor can I," Brett replied. "Isn't it supposed to be a sin or something for guys to have sex with guys?" "Well if it is, there's going to be a lot of guys going to hell." As the twins moved off, James Forsythe and the Catholic priest immediately headed for room three. Slowly opening the door and peering inside, they were shocked to find a dozen young scouts and cubs and an equal number of vets engaged in a variety of perverted acts. One chubby Viet Nam war vet of at least sixty was perspiring profusely as he fucked a young first class scout, his medals bouncing on the chest of his blue blazer as he furiously worked his cock in and out of the boy's backside. Two vets over eighty-years-old were engaged in a passionate sixty- nine in the far corner, and two ten-year-old Webelos Scouts were sitting side by side and wanking each other's little, reddened erections as they approached their third orgasm of the afternoon while they watched the two elderly men. "Oh yeah, shove it in all the way," gasped a familiar voice on the other side of the room. "Right up as far as you can. Oh fuck, that feels so good!" "Oh yeah," grunted the man ploughing the star scout's ass. "I'm going to fill your fucking little fag ass with the biggest load of your young fag life." The senior James Forsythe stared at his sixteen-year-old son, naked from the waist down and bent over and grasping the back of a chair, his yellow and red Scout tie swaying in time to the humping of the forty-three-year-old Gulf War vet fucking his ass. Totally in shock and not noticing Father O'Rilley enter the room and head toward a very cute, solitary six-year-old Tiger Cub who'd been in the cubs for only two months and was pinching his stiff little cocklet through the cloth of his uniform, the senior James Forsythe headed outside. He was standing there in the parking lot still in shock when he was joined ten minutes later by the muscular Gulf War army vet who'd stepped outside to have a cigarette. "What the hell type of man are you?" he asked, glaring at the man with hatred. "What are you talking about?" "I saw you, you pervert. I saw what you were doing to my son in there!" "That . . . that was your son?" the man asked, momentarily taken aback. The senior James Forsythe simply glared at him, unable to speak. "Well, hey, before you start with the accusations, your son was more than willing." "My son? My son is only sixteen, you sick pervert! I don't know what the hell is going on, but someone has evidently drugged my boy, and the rest of those young boys in there. I don't know who the hell you are, but know this, I'm contacting the police and having you arrested for molesting my boy! You'll be in jail for the rest of your sick perverted life." "Well, I know who you are," the man responded, "and that you've been making weekly visits to a certain two-story house over in the northeast part of town. You know the one, the one with the pealing brown paint over on Marlborough Drive. So, I've just fucked the ass of the son of the rich and famous James Forsythe. Well, you hypocrite, I'm sure your wife would be interested in the fact you've been paying visits to a brothel, and according to one of young ladies you and I have both been balling, that you also have a mistress you've been seeing on the side. You report me and I'll make sure the whole town knows your secret. I wonder how your wife'll take that, along with the discovery she has a little faggot son." James Forsythe said nothing as the man headed across the lot and got in his car. After all these years of being discrete, in a matter of a couple minutes his secret was now dependant on him keeping the secret of this filthy pedo. His marriage would be over, and he wouldn't be able to look his business associates in the eye if the word got out about his side interests. It would be even worse if word got out about his son being gay. As the CEO of Forsythe Enterprises headed back into the community hall, he suddenly had a lot to think about. So did Reverent Bentley, who at that very moment was sitting off in a corner by himself, unable to get the image of his naked eighteen-year-old son out of his mind. The boy had rolled up his jacket with his Eagle Scout insignia and twenty-three merit badges lovingly sewn on by his mother to use as a pillow, and was laying there on the floor of meeting room three, his hips and legs in the air while fat Charlie Winsloe, President of the American Legion, fucked his ass, his red Legion cap askew and the ribbons pinned on his blue blazer fluttering as the old pervert worked his cock in and out of his boy's ass, the two surrounded by a dozen other perverts in a frenzy of homosexual perversity. It was a hellish image he would never forget. Nearby was mayor Anthony Maartens sitting in equal shock at the sight of his son in the middle of the room on all fours being banged doggy style by a hairy ex Marine. When he'd overheard the youngest Brewster boy talking about the orgy down the hall, he'd had no idea his son would be right in the middle of it. The sight was bad enough, but hearing his young son telling the man his asshole was burning deep inside and begging the man to shove his cock in farther and farther was too much for any father to hear. Speaking of fathers, Martha Richards and Wilson Carter were standing at the door of the meeting room that very instant being totally ignored by those inside. One of those in the room was Martha's eighty-year-old father who's unbuttoned blazer and shirt were flapping against his naked hips and whose thin, grey-haired chest was heaving as the old man furiously thrust his cock in and out of the smooth backside of a cute eight-year-old bear cub with light brown hair and dark brown eyes standing up on a chair to accommodate the old man. Laying on the floor near them was. Wilson's nude seventy-six year old father engaged in a hot foursome, the elderly man and a now naked thirteen-year-old black boy engaged in a sixty-nine while a horny eleven-year-old tenderfoot scout with swarthy skin and straight black hair, one of the Gonzalez boys, buggered the old man while a fifty-five-year-old Vietnam vet was furiously fucking the backside of the black boy. Wanting to be sure there was no way they were going to be blamed for what had happened, the Brewster boys were back in the main hall helping to put away the chairs and making sure everyone knew they were there. There was another reason they were in the main hall Neil Jasperson. Plying the handsome army cadet with the last of the punch, the twins convinced him to come home with them with the promise they'd take care of his horniness. After the unexpected fun in the videocommunictions course several weeks earlier, the randy cadet was more than ready to join the two good-looking blond teenagers. He had decided over the past couple weeks that he liked both boys and girls, and that being bi really let him have the best of both worlds. The Brewster brothers were quite happy being gay themselves. As they headed home a bit later, Neil squeezed in between Brent and Brett in the last seat, it was all the twins could do to stop from reaching over and fondling the handsome cadet, and their two younger brothers had to sit on their hands to keep them off each other. Arriving home, the boys took Neil directly to their bedroom. "Ah, shouldn't your brothers go watch TV or something?" he asked as the twins stepped up beside him and Brett ran his hands up the teenager's right thigh as Brent caressed his butt. "And miss having some hot sex?" asked Bobby. "No fucking way." "You don't mind if we make it a fivesome, do you?" asked Brett softly as he squeezed the boy's swelling flesh. "Ah, no," he replied, glancing at the two younger Brewsters. They were hot looking actually, in a different sort of way than their twin brothers, and the novel thought of the five of them getting it off was so erotic it caused his cock to throb with excitement. "Good," said Benny as he dropped and began to unlace the boy's army boot. "Cuz in this family we believe in doing things together." "Fucking right," said Bobby as he dropped and began to unlace the other boot. "Isn't this supposed to be against the Scout oath or something?" Neil asked, glancing at the four boy scouts as Brent and Brett unbuttoned his khaki tunic and slipped it off. "Well, let's see," Brett purred in his right ear as he loosened the boy's tie and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt so he could slip his hand inside to caress his chest. "We told you if you came home with us we'd show you a good time. Now that was the truth, and we keep our promises, because a scout is trustworthy." He ran his fingertips over the boy's smooth chest, and finding the boy's teat, he began to fiddle with it. "And loyal," added Brent as he cupped the boy's warm, rapidly swelling crotch outside his heavy woollen pants. "Which means we're true to our friends." He unbuttoned the boy's fly and slipped his hand inside the opening. "You do want to be friends, don't you?" he asked as his fingers cupped the boy's warm jewels. "Oh yeah," Neil sighed deeply. "And a scout is helpful," observed Benny as he and Bobby pulled off the boy's army boots and then his grey, woollen socks. "We do things willingly for others, and without pay." The two youngest Brewsters stood and slipped the boy's suspenders off his shoulders. "And a boy scout is friendly," said Brett, having finished unbuttoning the boy's shirt and having removed his tie. Wrapping his arm about him and drawing the slightly taller boy down to his level, he bent his head forward and kissed the boy firmly on the lips. As they kissed a second time, Neil felt his trousers and his Joe Boxers being drawn down. Brett pressed his lips tighter against the boy's and slipped his tongue in his mouth. "Was that friendly enough?" he asked when their lips finally parted, his hot, sweet breath blowing in Neil's face. "Mmmm," was all the boy could say as Brent slipped his hand down behind him and caressed his naked butt. "And courteous. Would you lift your right foot please so I can get your pants and boxers off?" the horny eleven-year-old asked, his hazel eyes sparkling as he looked up at the teenager with an impish smile. Needless to say Neil readily complied. "And a scout is kind," said Benny as the boys eased Neil to the carpeted floor and lay him on his back. The recently-turned thirteen-year-old began to massage Neil's right foot as he'd been taught by Ali, the genie. "He treats others as he wants to be treated." His stiff four-and-a- half inches were tenting out his scout pants and ached for satisfaction. "And he is obedient," said Bobby. "You just say what you want us to do and we'll do it." Neil could not speak as the eleven-year-old ran his hand up the army cadet's naked thigh, causing his stiff cock to jerk excitedly. "And cheerful," continued Brent as he pushed down his scout pants and his black, cotton knit Calvin Klein boxer briefs. His own stiff cock sprang to attention. "He tries to make others happy, and goes about his tasks cheerfully," he continued, untying his red and yellow scout tie and beginning to unbutton his shirt. "And thrifty," said Brett. "He uses his time carefully. And as we promised, we are going to show you a good time" He had not yet begun to undress, and as Neil looked over at the fourteen-year-old first class scout, his long blond hair cascading down over the shoulders of his scout jacket, the sleeves emblazoned with badges for first aide, citizenship in the community, climbing, computers, family life, hiking, personal fitness, personal management, camping, and swimming, his cock twitched and he felt the first drop of pre-cum ooze out. This was so fucking hot. "And a scout is brave," said Benny, having totally chucked his pants. "He has the courage to stand up for what he thinks is right." At the moment the four-foot-ten, ninety-four-pound scout's four-and-a-half inch cock was standing straight up, and he brushed it against Neil's butt cheek. "I'm standing up for what I think is right," he said with an impish grin, his hazel eyes twinkling. "And he is clean," said Bobby as he took the boy's throbbing five-and-a-half inch uncut cock in his hand and slowly drew back his skin. The eleven-year-old had chucked all his clothes and now squatted down and examined the teenager's cock closely. "Glad to see you're clean too," he said, his hot boy breath blowing against the teenager's cock and causing a second drop of pre-cum to ooze out of the slit. "But a bit leaky," the youngster said with a giggle. "And a boy scout is reverent," concluded Brett as his brothers spread the blanket from Bobby's bed on the floor and tossed the pillows on it. "We respect your beliefs, whatever they might be," he continued as the five of them gathered on the blanket. Brent and Bobby were already naked and their cocks were standing up stiff and ready. Benny quickly removed his tie and shirt, and Brett quickly stripped off his clothes and tossed them aside while Brent raised Neil's legs and hips and their two younger brothers piled up their pillows under his rump. Taking the tube of KY out of the drawer where Bobby kept his bug collection and where they knew their mother would never go, Brett greased up his stiff cock, now almost five-and-three-quarter inches, and knelt behind Neil. Between the Spanish fly and being disrobed and caressed by the four Brewster boys, Neil had never felt so horny and the young cadet readily spread his legs. Besides, after the episode at school with Conrad and Jason, he was curious if having his ass fucked would be as great as fucking their asses had been. Feeling Brett's greased knob pressing against his butthole, he inhaled deeply in anticipation, and after Brett's prompting, he contracted his stomach muscles and pushed out while Brett pushed forward. Brett's dick seemed to be growing in length daily, but it was still narrow, and between the KY and the enthusiasm of the two boys, he managed to insert the knob on the fourth attempt. He paused for a moment, knowing the shock that was to someone who'd never been fucked before, and then he slowly pressed his hips forward, sinking his stiff cock up Neil's virgin chute. Neil trembled with the unique sensation of a stiff rod slowly sliding into him. Waiting until Brett had eased his stiff cock up the boy's asshole, Brent straddled Neil's chest and grinning down at him, slipped his hand down his stomach and through his blond curls. Pressing down on the base of his cock, identical in shape, length and diameter to his twin's, so that it was pointed at Neil's face, the horny, blond fourteen-year-old licked his lips seductively. By this time Neil had decided to go all out while he had the opportunity, and he readily opened his mouth even though he'd never sucked a boy's cock in his life. Brent eased forward slowly and paused frequently, allowing the virgin boy to get used to having a dick in his mouth. He slipped first just the top half of his cockhead between the parted lips, and then three-quarters, and finally the entire knob. He waited for a bit before slowly easing his cock further in. Neil could not believe how hot this was, to have a cock up his ass and another in his mouth, and it being the cocks of identical twins was even hotter. Brent's cock did not taste anywhere near what he'd feared it might, and, in fact, it was rather enticing. He sucked on it tentatively, and just the thought caused his dick to ooze out a droplet of pre-cum. He was sucking a guy's cock! He was a cocksucker! Another droplet of pre-cum oozed out of his dick and he eased his lips father down the slender teen cock. Having waited for Neil to get used to the two cocks inside him, Benny and Bobby finally lay down on either side of him in the opposite direction and began to lick and nibble on his cock and balls, causing still more pre-cum to ooze out. Neil reached out and ran his hands up along their slender, smooth legs until he found their genitals. He rolled and caressed their young, hairless balls and then brought his fingertips to his nose just as he often did to himself when he jerked off. Their sweaty nuts smelled much as his did, yet each was slightly different, each unique. He reached back over, running his fingertips along their smooth skin, up their legs and over their hips, across Bobby's hairless pubes and through the fine, curly hairs that Benny only recently had begun to sprout. Their dicks were hard and curving up parallel to their stomachs. He wrapped his fingers about the young, slender tubes and slowly began to wank them. There on the carpet under the poster Freedom is Not Free and the pennant from the last boy scout jamboree that the four brothers had gone to, the four scouts and the army cadet forgot about wars and killing and debates over orientation and American values and enjoyed being boys and being horny. Most of all they enjoyed the freedom and the openness of their youth to follow their hearts and to give free reign to their hormones. They were boys above all else, exemplified by the moth on the pinning board on Bobby's desk, the half-made jet fighter model on Benny's, and Brett's science fair trophy along side Brent's trophy for the school debate competition. The tube of KY on the floor beside them, the mementoes of past sexual escapades hidden away in drawers, the pack of condoms in the twin's wallets, and the growing number of gay sites bookmarked on the Brewster computer reflected another very real part of their boyhood. Neil was experiencing a very new aspect of being a boy. He opened and closed his anus as Brett eased his cock in and out of his rectum. Quivers of a new and unique pleasure ripped through his lower torso as he concentrated on the long, hard organ easing in and out of his asshole. He eagerly sucked on the hot cock easing back and forth between his lips and swallowed his cock-flavoured saliva as Brent rocked back and forth on his chest. The thought of what he was doing caused his heart to speed up and another type of pleasure to flow across his upper torso. Still another pleasure rippled through his groin as he wanked the two small cocks of the younger brothers while they licked and nibbled on his cock and his balls. He oozed out a seemingly endless stream of pre-cum which was immediately lapped up by one or the other young boy's tongue. Being the centre of attention, it was no surprise that Neil was the first of the boys to cum, his wagging boner suddenly erupting with rapid shots of his creamy teenage cum. It shot across his body to splatter against Brent's back and run down over the fourteen-year-old's buttocks, and it landed in thick puddles on Neil's stomach. Seconds later Benny also shot off, his young, thin cum lacing Neil's heaving chest and stomach. Brett was next, grasping the panting teenager's hips tightly as he filled his rectum with his hot, thick load. Almost instantaneously Brent reached his climax, filling the army cadet's mouth with his creamy cum. Neil swallowed the sweet, thick load, and as he opened his mouth it oozed out around the corners of his lips and around his chin. Bobby was the last to climax, grunting and gasping with his dry orgasm as his slender dick, now three-and-a-half inches long, throbbed just as violently and as pleasantly as his older brothers'. The boys disentangled and lay there on the carpet, chests heaving as they savoured the unique pleasure of ejaculation, all five of them with a trace of creamy boy cum on their fingers or spattered somewhere on their naked bodies. It had been fantastic, as it always was, but Neil had drunk a dozen glasses of punch, and the Brewster brothers were especially randy. It was not long before the five had formed a new combination there in the boys' bedroom and were going at it again. Several days later Barry informed his family over the supper table that on the way home he'd seen old Alex Burns and another elderly man on his front porch putting up Christmas lights and he'd pulled over to see how the old man was doing. It seemed that not only had his hip healed, but he'd had a change in attitude and was his old chipper self. It seemed to have something to do with the other old man, a Mike Wolenski, moving in with him. Old Alex wouldn't say how that had happened, but only observed with a twinkle in his eye that he'd developed a sudden taste for Polish sausage on Veteran's day. Mike responded that Alex might have snow on the roof, but there was still a fire in his furnace, and the two men looked at each other and laughed like young boys. Barry had other good news to share. James Forsythe had announced he was withdrawing his motion, and it seemed the rest of the opposing side was not going to push the issue either. In fact there was a rumour that Charlie Winsloe, President of the American Legion, was spearheading a fledging movement to start up a gay youth support group in town, and there was even talk of joining the Scouting For All movement that had been launched almost three years ago by an eagle scout by the name of Steven Cozza to end discrimination against gay youth by the BSA. "Now, I wonder what brought that change about," mused Brenda as she caressed her swollen tummy. Her four sons glanced at each other and smiled knowingly. It was a tough war that they were in and had officially declared on November 13th, but they had at least won this battle, and who knows, maybe by the time little Blaine and little Blakey were in the scouting movement, your sexual orientation wouldn't be an issue. If it was, it would not be through any fault of the boys. Glancing back at their mother, they felt particularly good being in the land of the free and the home of the brave. "Anyone want a second piece of apple pie?" she asked. "Fu-, fu-, fu-, for goodness sake sure," said Bobby, and his three brothers and his father all quickly agreed. As Brenda cut six more slices of pie, and took out a dill pickle to have with hers, she wondered how Bobby would feel if she approached the school about increasing his speech therapy time.