Date: Wed, 15 Dec 2021 23:25:34 -0500 From: Solipsist Aesthete Subject: Black Sheep - Chapter 1 The following is an original, omegaverse erotica containing such diverse elements as: mpreg (male pregnancy), incest (between brothers and father/son), high school aged characters, heat sex (and thereby dubious consent), mild violence, intersex-like genitalia (boys with both penises and vaginas, wombs, etc.), anal, oral and vaginal sex, as well as cunnilingus, analingus and multiple penetration, and discussions of self-harm and mental illness. If any of these elements do not appeal to you, I would suggest you look elsewhere. This story is the property of the author, and I retain exclusive rights for its publication on other websites. Please reach out to me through email or my social media (linked below) if you would like to share this story to another website. This work is NSFW, featuring explicit descriptions of homosexual sex acts between family members and should not be viewed by anyone under the age of majority or by anyone living in areas where viewing such content would be illegal. See the end for my social media and author's page. Please consider donating to Nifty to keep this wonderful site free and flourishing. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy the first chapter of this multi-chapter serial. :) Chapter 1: My Concerned Brothers, Or: How Many Times Do I Have To Say "I'm Fine" Before You All Calm Down?! Gathering the empty plates from the table, I watched the satisfied smiles of my four alpha brothers licking the last lingering stains of maple syrup from the French toast I'd made especially for them from their lips, turning my head just as those smiles flipped back into the frowns I'd gotten far too used to seeing of late. Another day of this mystery ailment I'd been having all week, and between the aches and pains, mostly coming from my pelvis, the mood swings and nausea, it was my brother's overwhelming concern that was by far the most annoying. Bud Cox, better known in this house as Dad, had rushed more than 8000 yards for the Washington Wereskins as a fullback before retiring at age thirty-two to coach high school football for his Texan alma mater. Callahan High School in central Texas had won both the state and national football championships in their division for the past three years, and it wasn't just thanks to their famous coach. Coach Cox's four alpha sons, my brothers, were all nationally ranked and expected to go pro just like their dad. Brock, my oldest brother, sat at the head of the table. Dad always left before us, so Brock, as eldest, would always take his place. He had most of the trappings of a firstborn son, naturally dominant, responsible, protective, a good communicator, in short, a leader. And this served him well, both at home and at school, where he was the star quarterback and captain of the football team, wrestling team, and swim team. He was a charmer with an active social life and what seemed to be a new girlfriend every week, and who could blame him? Everybody was after my brother's dick. With his soft brown hair, amethyst eyes, 6'4 Adonis-like body, and svelte, baritone chuckle, he was every androphile's wet dream. He managed his time well, though, and had somehow made it all the way to senior year without knocking anybody up, even though I knew most of the beta and omega girls would stop taking their birth control before getting with him at a chance of trapping him. Apparently, he was more into eating pussy than breeding it. Anyways, with his decent grades and stellar performance on the field, Brock had already accepted a full ride to Alpha State, the top-ranking college football program in the country for next fall. Maybe there he'd find some girl he'd want to keep for more than a weekend. I was going to miss the Hell out of my big brother when he left. Luckily, Alpha State was only a couple hours' ride away, just outside of San Alpha in south-central Texas. I was already planning on visiting him on alternating weekends. Surprisingly, he hadn't talked me out of it. The idea of tagging along with him to some alpha frat parties was the stuff of my dreams. Maybe I'd meet someone there, too. Cliff and Biff, seated across from each other to Brock's right and left, were the middle brothers. Identical twins, they were both huge, 6'7 and 275lbs each of solid muscle, which is where mom had given them their nickname, the Tanks. It helped when you couldn't tell them apart to just yell, "Tank," and have either of them respond without needing to look like a dumbass because you couldn't remember which of them had the tiny scar on the left side of his forehead. Quiet and often overlooked despite their size, what they lacked in intelligence they made up for in athleticism. Powerhouse linebackers, wrestlers, goalies, and star players on the basketball team, the Tanks were beasts at any sport, but what they were probably most well known for were their 13-inch, coke-can-width dicks that they apparently loved pulling out in the lockers, much to dad's annoyance. They'd been held back last year, putting them now in sophomore year with me, but they were still hoping to get into Alpha State with Brock once they graduated. It was dad's alma mater, and they were national champions in multiple sports, so they had a shot. I'd been helping them prepare for the SAT, and we were still stuck on spelling their names correctly, but I had hopes that they'd at least finish the damn thing by next year. Either that or maybe dad would finally get his head straight and pay a couple of kids to take the damn thing for them and give them a reasonable 1200 or so, whatever the minimum was for admittance that wouldn't have the College Board hounding us. Chase, sitting to the left of Cliff, was the baby of the family. A freshman at Callahan this year, he'd already made a name for himself as something more than "Coach's kid" or "Brock's brother", something I still struggled with, though either of those was better than "faggot" which is what they called my best friend, Jimmy, and what they'd probably call me if Brock and the Tanks hadn't beaten that kid half to death who did say it that one time after I'd been outed. Chase had always been a comedian, but the prank he'd pulled on Suzi Welchell, the beta bitch who'd outed me and Jimmy at the end of last year, had cemented his status as a Callahan legend. Technically, it had been a spiritual relation to revenge porn, tricking the girl into sexting over Zoom with the principal while he recorded it. The legend part, though, was that when the principal answered, he'd been with a woman who wasn't his wife in a very compromising position. How my brother had managed to pull it off, I'll never know, though I can't imagine him being able to do this without at least some help from the devil. Regardless, when Chase leaked it pseudonymously to the school's message board, it had started an uproar that had led to Suzi transferring and Principal Johnson resigning (and apparently separating from his wife). Best of all, they couldn't even punish Chase since he was still a student in middle school. Dad had been furious, and mom had at least appeared disappointed, scolding him for breaking the rules, but I'd seen her later going into me and Chase's room and hugging him. "You did good to stick up for your brother," she'd said. "Family sticks together, always." Then she'd smiled, giving him a soft noogie. "I've always found Johnson to be a real prick. Good on you, kid. I'll make you your own superhero costume for Halloween. Just don't tell your father." He'd started high school king of the freshers, and had cemented that status by being a class clown, the kicker on the varsity team, a forward on the varsity soccer team, a member of the swim team, and something of a programming genius and Esports champion. He was also bisexual, coming out after I'd been forced out, and had dated a guy and a girl on the swim team, his class being a lot cooler with variant sexualities than mine or my brothers. Like all of my brothers, he was also apparently very well-endowed. Everyone wanted to get with the Cox alpha boys, practically kings of Callahan High, but what about me? I wasn't quite so lucky. The only one of the Cox boys not to turn out an alpha, ever since I was a child I'd found myself defined more by my differences to my brothers and father than by any achievement of my own. My family never meant it in a mean way, in fact, they were often a lot kinder and gentler to me than to each other. Only mom was treated with more veneration and gentility. Still, it stung, looking at the other men in the family and realizing that despite my sex I had far more in common with my mom than any of them. I wasn't strong or agile or athletically gifted in any way. In fact, until I was seven I had a sensory disorder where my brain switched my left and my right, leading me to have difficulties with all large motor activities. In short, I was a clutz, and as such, while my brothers were all involved in sports from the time they were toddlers, I spent all my time with my mother, reading, singing, and helping around the house. She taught me to knit and crochet and even enrolled me in dance and gymnastics to help me with my sensory integration problems, and they really helped, and I was actually quite good at gymnastics, but I never got over the shame of being the only boy my age doing such activities. While my brothers never picked on me or shamed me for being different, other kids at school certainly did. I was rarely bullied outright, as everyone was afraid of what my brothers would do to them if they were caught, but I never made any friends. I was never picked for group activities or invited to birthday parties. I was an outcast, the black sheep. While I excelled academically and some of my teachers were kind to me, I hated school. I hated my life. The school's guidance counselor had suggested that my parents take me to see a therapist and psychiatrist after I'd been found cutting my thighs with a razor blade in the bathroom during lunch. I was only eight, and by the time I was caught, I'd been doing it for a few months. I was prescribed Zoloft, and while that did help with the worst of my depression and anxiety, it only further othered me. Not only was I a sissy, but now I was crazy, too! I withdrew more and more, ashamed of going to the doctor, ashamed of talking about my problems with my therapist. It had gotten so bad that I'd basically gone mute. When my therapist had told my parents to enroll me in acting classes, I thought she was insane, but in a way, they'd saved my life. I'd been able to make friends, some of them with boys who were like me. Our teachers had been kind, and while I was shy, speaking someone else's words gave me the strength to start to share my own again. When I was on stage, acting, singing, dancing even, I wasn't so afraid. I wasn't just the black sheep. I was my own person. Starting in fifth grade, I'd been a major part of every theatrical production put on by my schools, and through that, I'd been able to make friends and a name for myself other than Brock and Tanks Callahan's weird younger brother. As a sophomore in high school, I had the second largest part in the winter play and had several productions under my belt in local community theater. I may not have been a Callahan alpha, but I was still somebody to notice. The fact that I was consistently top of my class academically also helped. I was going places, not due to athletics, but through my own talents. I still often felt second fiddle to my older brothers, and depression was still a recurring problem in my adolescent life--though between Prozac, Wellbutrin and therapy I had things mostly under control--but my life was generally good. At least until COVID happened, and I'd been outed, and then two months later mom had died. This weird virus or growth spurt or whatever I had been having this week was the last thing I needed, and my brother's overwhelming concern was not helping matters. "Are you sure you're doing ok, Benny?" Putting the dishes into the sink, I turned back to face them with an annoyed pout. It wasn't the first time Brock had asked me some version of that question this morning. In fact, all of my brothers, even the Tanks, who usually only used their voices for grunts or whispers to each other, and my dad had been doing nothing but peppering me with questions about my health all week. I could understand their concern--although answering, "I'm fine!" a million and a half times was getting pretty tiring!--Mom's death had been sudden and devastating. Still, I knew that whatever was going on with me was neither severe nor any sign of COVID. Occasional bouts of wooziness, fatigue, mood swings, and a kind of dull, transient pain in my pelvis and chest were less symptomatic of any pathogen or disease state than just the typical abnormalities of teenage hormonal shifts. Perhaps I would finally present as the beta everyone but my body had already figured out I was supposed to be. A boy could hope. As the only person, not only in my grade but in the entirety of my high school not to have presented yet, I was beyond ready to have this nightmare of a delayed primary adolescence put to an end. This vision of a potential light at the end of the tunnel made the crying spells and the constant concerns of my family more than worth it, such that when I turned to my eldest brother to waylay his fears, my tone may have been a bit more chipper than appropriate. "I'm fine," I said with a smile. "Really," I added as his hand clenched down on my wrist, drawing me towards him so that he could inspect me for the umpteenth time. As Brock checked me once again for a fever I didn't have, asked me to open my mouth to look for redness or swelling that wasn't there, rubbed his hands down my trunk, grasping my arms, searching for what I did not know--lumps? Broken bones?--I couldn't help but roll my eyes. It would have been bad enough if it had just been him, but soon enough Chase was standing behind me, palming under the collar of my shirt for a second assessment of my temperature. Biff and Cliff squeezed their massive, linebacker bodies onto my left and right, looking a little lost as far as what they could do to help but still wanting to be there. It would have been sweet if it wasn't so damn annoying. "Are we almost at the bit where I turn my head and cough?" I said as Brock, Cliff and Biff had bent down to feel up my legs for some reason. Three pairs of blank stares later and I added, "Hernia? Hello? It's what we in the medical profession call `a joke'. A joke, like whatever assessment you four are performing on me when y'all clearly aren't doctors!" They all stopped, looking up at me with such sad puppy eyes and hangdog miens that I instantly regretted my words. "I'm sorry. That was harsh." "We're just worried about you, Benny," Chase said, patting my back. "I know," I said. "If we lost you..." Brock said. "We can't," Cliff muttered. "We won't," Biff added a second after. My heart felt fit to burst. What had I done to earn such caring brothers? "You guys," I said. Tears beginning to accumulate in the corner of my eye--Damn these hormones!--I opened my arms to give them a group hug. They all crowded against me, surrounding me with their huge, muscular bodies, sandwiching me between them. "I'm not going anywhere." We'd always been a close family, something rare for a house full of alphas. It was mom's doing. She'd put her foot down on hotheaded, alpha behavior in her house, and her sons had been, rightly, more afraid of disappointing her than their gigantic, alpha father. Mary Cox had been the glue that kept the Cox family, our family, together. After her death, it seemed like that role had fallen on me. I only hoped I could live up to it. "If I died you all would starve," I chuckled as I was slowly released from my brothers' death grip. "None of you know how to cook, and dad can barely handle ordering takeout. Nor do any of you know how to clean or do your own laundry. Whatever omega girl y'all find to marry your sorry asses better be satisfied doing all the chores. You better treat her like an angel!" They all chuckled, giving me a little bit of space, but I could tell from the anxious expressions they were terrible at concealing that the issue was far from over. All of this trouble over hormones. If only I'd known how much worse it was about to get. I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter! New chapters will be posted routinely (at least every three weeks!). For the quickest updates and a collection of my other works (mostly fan-fiction) subscribe to my profile on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/users/solipsistaesthete. Send me an email if you enjoyed this fic, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Or, leave me a message on one of my social media accounts listed below. Follow me on Tumblr at: http://solipsistaesthete.tumblr.com/ Follow me on Twitter at: https://twitter.com/solipsaesthete