Date: Sat, 12 Feb 2022 16:47:19 -0500 From: Paddy Subject: My Sub Stepbrother My Sub Stepbrother by Paddy S. This is a fictional story. If such material offends you, please stop reading. If you have any ideas or suggestions, please email me. All feedback is welcome. I hope this will be the first chapter in a series. My stepbrother Aidan and I do not get along. When his father married my mother, my hatred for him was immediate. I didn't really think too much about him or see him often though. At the time, I lived with my father. My name is Mark. I am 13 years old. I am your normal, average kid. Well, I will be honest. I am a geek. Remember the stereotypical look of a geek: awkward, tall, super skinny with greasy hair and acne? Well, that's me. I am almost 6'2'' and I only weigh 135lbs. I tried lifting weights for about a month but my asthma interfered so my father made me stop. I have a mop of curly greasy black hair, which I have washed over and over with many different types of shampoo and it still remains greasy. The acne on my pale white face has gotten better thanks to Proactive but my face is hardly flawless. What I do have that I am proud of is between my legs. I have been watching porn for a few years so I know what I have is very special. My penis is a hair slight of 8 inches. From what I have seen in the locker room from the boys who are not too shy as to get completely naked when changing is that I am very blessed in that department. Although I have only seen them all soft, I know from the internet that the average penis size is only around 6 inches. Even though I am 13, being almost 8 inches, I know I still have more growing to do. Sometimes I used to think to myself that it has grown so big because I am always playing with it. I jerk it at least four times a day. But I read that wouldn't be the cause of having a large dick. But I am happy to have it and more than happy enough to play with it. It certainly presents me with a lot of chances! I could pop a woody when hit with a light wind gust. It is a bitch to hide when I am at school. It randomly gets hard at the worst times, causing me to retire to the bathroom for what I call dick gymnastics. I used to try to tuck it into my waistband to hide it but it got too uncomfortable when I was sitting down. Also, that occasionally caused a rather pleasurable rubbing when I was rearranging myself in my seat. Nowadays, I wear tight boxer briefs and angle it to snake down my leg, hiding it under baggie jeans. Even though I am very proud of my penis, I hated the rest of my body, hated people seeing it and never showed it. That was part of the reason why I couldn't stand being around Aidan. He loved showing his body and he should. He was 15 but was a Greek god-in-training. His face was chiseled with blue eyes, a strong jawline and dimpled cheeks. His hair was dirty blonde, styled and never greasy. His eyes were deep blue and glowed with a manly knowingness. His dazzling smile revealed perfect teeth through red, full lips; my teeth were still crooked after years of braces. Aidan worked out his body till it was the epitome of perfection. His chest was smooth, full and very developed. He had meaty pecs that would be visible through a thick sweater. His swole biceps looked as if they had swallowed melons. His stomach was flat, not an ounce of fat, with what could only be described as ten-pack abs. There was a small treasure trail of hair that disappeared into the waistband of his defined V-shaped pelvis. His thighs were as thick as tree trunks with a round bubble butt and muscled calves. He had toned legs littered with a light smattering of soft blonde hair. Like I said, he was the opposite of me; Aidan loved showing off his body. Last year we took a family vacation to Hawaii. Aidan took the opportunity to wear nothing but board shorts the whole entire weekend we were there. I think the only time that I saw him in a shirt was on the plane ride there and back home. And I am sure if the airplane would have allowed it, he would have been shirtless then too. Doing the vacation he tanned nicely. Even though I was wearing SPF 40, a T-shirt and the thickest beach shorts I could find, I still managed to get a sunburn all over my body. How the fuck do you burn in a t-shirt? Fuck if I know but I did. But before you think my reason for not liking Aidan is based purely on looks and write me off as a superficial asshole, that is not the case. Aidan is the most insufferable douchebag that you will ever meet. He also has the stereotypical personality of what people may think someone with his looks would have. He is arrogant, selfish, self-involved and narcissistic. Everyone exists to look at him and please him. Part of the reason why I lived with my father was that my mother was also one of Aidan's adoring fans. He was the son she wanted, not the Star Wars-obsessed-still-wearing-Pokemon-pajamas nerd that was her actual son. I have learned to live with it. But within the last year all that changed. Dad was diagnosed with lung cancer. We were shocked. Dad had never smoked a day in his life. After all the tests, we learned that it was fast progressing. I wanted to be there for him so I insisted that for the rest of the year I be homeschooled. Dad fought me on it but I was adamant. He was all I had. Dad was always my favorite parent. He always accepted me and all the weirdness that came with me. Mom constantly tried to get me interested in "normal things" but Dad would embrace whatever I liked and encouraged me to be myself. When Mom announced that she couldn't take being suffocated living with him anymore and left, he cut back on his hours at work to help me adjust. Whenever I was home, he was there. Six months after she left, Mom was remarried with a new "perfect family." I fell into a deep depression because it wasn't that Mom was suffocated; she just didn't want us. Dad never said one bad word about her and instead insisted he was to blame. He said that I was the best child a parent could hope for and my mother left because of him and he was sorry that he couldn't hold the family together. I knew he was lying to protect me. Mom had always been a bitch. He did everything he could to keep her happy and it was never enough. But I loved him even more for trying to make me feel better. When I came out to him last year as queer, his response wasn't to recoil in horror. He took me to a family Pride event, with an "I am so proud of my gay son" T-shirt and rainbow wig. Of course, it was uber embarrassing but it meant the world to me. So when his doctor told us about the cancer, I didn't give a fuck if he objected, I was going to be there for him all the time, every step of the way. Unfortunately, I didn't have my chance for long. His type of cancer required an aggressive combo of chemo and radiation therapy. It decimated his immune system. He caught pneumonia and died in the hospital with me, sobbing at his side about two months afterward. I was devastated. My aunt stayed with me for a month to wrap up everything. Aunt Lanie was Dad's older sister. They were both raised by their hippie grandparents after their parents had died in a car crash. My aunt was very much a free spirit. She was unmarried and had no kids. She and my Dad were best friends. She had no real job and was always traveling to the most exotic destinations. We would go visit her at her beach cottage that belonged to their parents when she was home. She always stayed with us when she visited, telling us all about the most amazing places and people she would meet. She would bring me the most interesting gifts. She and my mother never got along. When Aunt Lanie was around, I saw a different side of Dad. He was more fun-loving. He laughed differently. He seemed happy, really happy. I don't know why he married my mother. Mom was shallow and very uptight about so many things. She and Dad just didn't match. Probably why the divorce happened. After Dad died, one of his friends who was also his lawyer sat Aunt Lanie and me down to talk about his will. He had left everything to me with Aunt Lanie as the trustee until I turned 21. I didn't know what that meant until Aunt Lanie explained it all to me. That was when I realized why Aunt Lanie never had a real job. Dad's grandparents-- my great-grandparents -- had left them millions. Dad's grandparents were some of the original investors in renewable energy companies. I never knew. I had never questioned how we lived such a good life even though Mom never had a job and Dad was a part-time professor at the local community college. Dad never talked about money around the house. Mom was furious when she found out Aunt Lanie had been left controlled of everything. I also found out that Mom got little in the divorce settlement from Dad because all the money was in a family trust. Dad himself had very little in his own name. I wanted to live with Aunt Lanie permanently but Mom threw a shitfit and demanded that I come live with her. I begged Aunt Lanie to fight back but she explained that my mother had a right as my only living parent for me to live with her. Plus Aunt Lanie said that the life she lived wasn't good for a child. A child needed stability, especially at a time like this, she said. I wasn't convinced. I didn't need stability; I needed someone who loved me as much as my Dad did. My mother always treated me like a nuisance. After the house was cleaned out and sold, Mom did agree to let me stay with Aunt Lanie for the summer at Aunt Lanie's beach cottage. Mom couldn't say no. Aunt Lanie controlled all of my money until I was 21. Even though Aunt Lanie would never use it to control me, she knew that if my Mom had half a chance she would cut Aunt Lanie out of my life. Dangling money in front of my mother ensured that Aunt Lanie would always have a prominent place in my life. Even though I didn't like the beach, I loved being at Aunt Lanie's cottage. The sound of waves helped me sleep those nights I cried to myself, thinking of Dad. The cottage felt so familiar. It was filled with pictures of Aunt Lanie and Dad from all the way back to when they were kids. There were photos of my grandparents who I never met. I looked like my grandfather a lot, especially with the same mop of curly black hair. The cottage was full of artifacts that Aunt Lanie had collected from all over the world. I felt so at home when I was there. Aunt Lanie explained that it was my home too. I owned my Dad's half and since Aunt Lanie did not have any children nor want them, her half would be mine too someday. I loved being with Aunt Lanie. During the nights, we would have our own little bonfires. We made s'mores and Aunt Lanie told me stories about Dad before he met my mother. I told her about me being queer and she was just as supportive as Dad had been. She even told me about a male-on-male experience that my Dad had with two Peruvian guys they met when they were high and backpacking through South America. "Your Dad wasn't gay or even bi, I think," Aunt Lanie said. "He was just...so much more open in those days to new experiences. Before your mother." I couldn't believe it. Dad never told me about that but it did make me feel closer to him, even though he was gone. Aunt Lanie tried her best not to bash my mother but after she had a few glasses of wine, it spilled out. One night while we were on the beach, Aunt Lanie told me that she had first gotten drunk when she was 14 and Dad was 12 on some alcohol called absinthe that she had stolen from their grandparents. "No offense, Mark, but I am not sure you could handle that but try this," she said, giving me her wine glass. I took a sip. It tasted like rancid grape juice. She laughed as I choked on it. "It's an acquired taste," she said, pouring herself a separate glass. She was quite tipsy by then. "She ruined him," Aunt Lanie went on. "He used to have this light, this aura around him that made everyone around him love him. All she saw was his money." And that was when I discovered why they married. Mom got knocked up with me. Aunt Lanie drunkenly hugged me after telling me that. "But he never blamed you. He loved you. He loved you so much. He would have done anything for you. That's why he put up with Alison for so long. And your father -- the dutiful fool that he was -- would have stayed with her forever if it meant you being happy. You were the most important thing in his life. It was with you that -- that I could see that aura sometimes, that he used to have. I see it beginning to glow in you." The single glass of wine had gone to my head and I started crying. Aunt Lanie started crying too. "I miss him so much," I sobbed, as she hugged me close. "I do too," she said. "Keep that aura, Mark." She took my face in her hands, breaking our hug, wiping tears from my eyes. "Grow it. You are you. And you are amazing. Fuck what anyone else says. Don't let your mother smother it in you as she did with Alec." That night Aunt Lanie and I laid on a blanket near the waves, talking about Dad till the sun rose. The summer came and went so fast. School started in two weeks. Mom and her new husband lived in a smaller house than Dad and I had. Aunt Lanie had had all of my personal stuff shipped to my Mom's house so it was just waiting for me to arrive. I had my own room but I would have to share a bathroom with Aidan. If the Hawaii trip had taught me anything about Aidan, it was that he had so many different products to keep himself perfect: his perfect hair, his perfect skin, his perfect body. The bathroom must be a fucking mess. I tend to be a very orderly person so that was going to be a nightmare. At the end of the summer, I said my goodbyes to Aunt Lanie with a promise I could spend all the holidays I wanted with her and the next summer also. At least I had something to look forward to. When I arrived at my Mom's house, I knocked on the door. I had texted my Mom when my plane landed and she told me to just take an Uber from the airport. Wow. Dead Dad, new house and new school. Just take an Uber. Great parenting, Mom. I didn't have any keys yet so I knocked on the door harder. Aidan opened the door. I hadn't seen him since he came to Dad's funeral with my Mom and his Dad. "Oh, it's you," he sneered, slightly rolling his eyes, when he saw me standing there. Wow, still a charmer. He wasn't wearing a shirt. Surprise, surprise. "Hey," I said. I so didn't fucking want to be here. He stood looking at me, disgustingly, like I was a Mormon missionary trying to tell him about the gospel. I finally asked, "Could I come in?" He laughed. What the fuck was he laughing at? "Yeah, I guess," he shrugged, moving to the side. "Where's Mom?" I asked, walking inside past him. I had noticed that her car wasn't in the driveway. "Oh, her and Dad took the weekend to go to Miami," he said, shutting the door behind him. He walked pass me over to the sofa and spread out his body. I had just flown here to live permanently away from everything and everyone I have ever known and my own mother couldn't be bothered to not only greet me when I arrived but failed to even send a fucking text saying that she wouldn't be here. I looked at Aidan on the sofa. He was just in his boxers. His thighs looked like they were straining to burst through the fabric. Not surprising, I thought. He would be practically naked to show off his body even at home. Aidan turned his attention back to the television. I took a heavy sigh and walked toward the stairs. Before I started to ascend the stairs, Aidan yelled, "Hey, I am having friends over. Stay upstairs. I don't want you fuckin' creeping them out." He planned on having friends over and he is still in his fucking boxers when he answered the door? "Whatever," I sighed again and continued up the stairs. My room was on the third door to the right. I walked past Aidan's room and looked inside. It was a fucking disaster. There was clothing all over the floor. As if he couldn't be anymore a fucking meathead, there were Fast & Furious posters covering the walls with bikinied women and different -- what I am assuming -- musicians and bands. He had an electric guitar and speaker in the corner. I remember that he did play the guitar just well enough to scam on girls who were stupid enough to overlook his personality to focus on his body. I walked to my room and opened the door. All my boxes were there; all that was left of my life with Dad. There was a dresser, two nightstands, a desk, a chair and a stripped bed with four bare white walls. I sat on the bed. "Fuck my life," I said, leaning back until my head hit the pillows. End of Chapter 1 NOTE: I know there wasn't any sex in this first chapter but I wanted to introduce a bit of backstory on the characters because if there is a good reception to the story, I want it to be a series. I promise more spice in the next chapter. All feedback is welcome! 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