FIGMENT

By Wes Leigh

 

This is a work of wild fantasy intended solely for the entertainment of my readers; any resemblance to any real people or places is purely coincidental. This story involves romance and sex between adult men as well as between men and teens and preteens, some incestual. If you are uncomfortable with any of this, please choose another story. This story is the property of the author and is protected by copyright laws. The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent.

Readers who would like to chat are encouraged to contact me at weston.leigh@protonmail.com.

If you enjoy this story, please support the Nifty archives today with a thoughtful donation by visiting https://donate.nifty.org/.

 

Chapter Ten

 

͠ ͠ ͠ ͠ ͠ ͠ ͠ ͠ ͠

Kar va menta sar're namo Shee Quessir? Sar're fil ent humel. Va ni'duret Ath feer!

Why do you think we're called fey elves? We're fickle and silly. You can't trust any of us!

͠ ͠ ͠ ͠ ͠ ͠ ͠ ͠ ͠

"Hey, Caleb, can you help me out?" Trace asked as he walked into my bedroom the next morning.

I rolled over, groggy from the night before. Figment and I had stayed at the scenic overlook for several hours, hugging and cuddling as the moon rose into the sky. We had finally left around 11:00, returning to a dark and silent house, where we climbed into bed and fell instantly asleep. Figment was still asleep, wrapped around my side, using my chest as a pillow.

My voice was scratchy as I mumbled, "Sure, Trace. What do you need?"

He sat on the edge of my bed and playfully squeezed my cock through the blanket. "I need a favor after school."

"Does the favor involve your hand and my cock?"

He chuckled and gave me one final squeeze, then said, "Nah. But I'll give you a handjob if you help me out."

I yawned and said, "What's the favor?"

"I need a haircut. I know just what I want to get, and the place at the mall does a great job. I need a ride after school because Dad can't take me. He said he's working late."

"Okay, I can do that," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.

Trace patted my chest and said, "You better wake up Figment. We leave for school in thirty minutes." He stood up, poked my cock, which was now tenting up the blankets thanks to Trace's earlier fondling, and laughed as he left the room. "See you after school."

Figment groaned next to me. "What's Trace doing in our room?"

"Asking for a ride after school."

Figment rolled over quickly, glanced at the clock on the wall, and yelped, "I'll be late." He threw off the covers and jumped out of bed, dashing into the ensuite bathroom. I had to admire his naked butt as he ran off. So cute!

I heard the sound of pee tinkling into the toilet, then water running in the sink. A minute later, Figment came out of the bathroom, struggling to comb his curly hair. "Can you find me some clothes to wear?" he pleaded. "I'm gonna be late."

"I like what you're wearing," I replied with a grin.

He glanced down at his naked body, smiled, and wriggled his hips. "I'm sure the teachers will be thrilled to see me like this, but Dad probably won't let me out of the house without at least a pair of underwear."

I tossed the bedding aside and walked over to give Figment a morning hug. "You look cute in whatever you wear, but let's find something to cover that adorable body. I don't feel like sharing it with your entire school."

͠ ͠ ͠

That afternoon, I sat at a table in the food court, enjoying a fruit smoothie, waiting for Trace to get his hair cut. I suppose I was lost in thought, thinking about Figment and his wild stories about his family's past, so I didn't notice Trace walking up behind me until he shouted in my ear, "What do you think?"

I jumped. Trace laughed and slid into the seat next to me. He turned his head from side to side to show off his new haircut. It was trimmed tight on the sides and left longer, wavy on the top.

"It's nice," I replied. "Looks good on you."

"Check this out," he said, turning his head a little more. The hair on his left side was clipped with a small sunburst emblem. "Radical, right?"

Eyes wide in surprise, I nodded. "It sure is."

"All the guys on the team are doing it. Max had a dolphin cut into his hair. Gabe is getting a howling wolf."

"Your dad is okay with it?"

"Yeah. It gonna connect us together as a team, so it's all good."

"Let me see it again?"

Trace turned his head. I touched the design the barber had trimmed into his tight, curly hair. A blazing sun with rays shooting in all directions. It fit his personality perfectly.

"I like it, Trace. It looks good on you."

"Thanks," he said, smiling.

"You want anything? A smoothie? A drink?"

"Nah. I spent all my money on the frankencut."

"It's on me." I gave him a few dollars.

"Thanks, bro!" he exclaimed, taking the money and heading for the nearest vendor. He returned with his own smoothie—banana and mango—and placed the change on the table. "I love this combo!"

As we slurped our drinks, I decided to talk to Trace about Figment's imaginative tales. "Your little brother will make a great Dungeon Master one day."

"Which one?"

"Figment."

He wrinkled his nose. "Why do you say that?"

"He's very creative," I replied. "You should hear some of the stories he tells me."

Trace slurped his drink, swallowed, and said, "He's always been that way. Making up goofy stories and stuff. Dad thinks it's funny. I think it's stupid."

It sounded like I knew what Trace would think, but I still had to ask. "He told me your family was from the Feywild and that you were all Eladrin."

Trace snorted. "He would say that."

"And then he changed the story," I continued. "He said you were all illusions created by a master magician. The magician spoke the language of the fey elves, so that's why you all speak Eladrae so fluently."

"Haha, yeah, that's it!" Trace exclaimed. "I'm an illusion." He chuckled as he drained the last of his smoothie and belched.

"I guess I'm concerned for your brother. It seems like he's using fantasy to avoid facing difficult situations in life."

Trace shook his head. "You don't have to worry. Figment is right."

I stopped sipping my drink and stared at Trace.

He nodded. "We ARE illusions. Drew is the magician. You notice how Drew always plays a wizard or sorcerer or something like that? It's because he's actually a fey elf illusionist. Dad isn't real. I'm not real. Figment isn't real. Only Drew is real." Trace laughed and wiped his lips with a napkin, then he leaned in and whispered. "Drew is actually 800 years old. Fey elves age very slowly, so he looks 13, but he's really old. And he's dangerous."

I shook my head in frustration. "Trace, I'm trying to be serious here."

Trace laughed and asked, "Well, what do you want me to say? I think Figment is a little insane in the membrane, but Dad says he just needs more time to sort shit out."

"Have you noticed him getting any better?"

"A little," Trace admitted. "He seems calmer when he's with you, and he's obviously talking now, so that's good, right?"

"Yes," I admitted. "There is that."

Trace pointed at my drink. "Are you almost done?"

I sucked up the last of my drink and replied, "I am now. Why?"

Trace held up a finger. "I have one more tiny favor to ask."

"What's that?"

"Follow me," he said, standing up and picking up our empty cups. He headed for a trash bin and tossed everything inside, then waved for me to come with him.

He led me to the restrooms on one side of the food court. We walked in the men's room and Trace looked underneath the stalls. They were empty, so he opened the far stall door and walked inside, motioning for me to join him.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

He smirked and replied, "Getting your help with that favor."

"What are you up to, Trace?"

"You'll see. Come here."

I walked to the door of the stall, and Trace grabbed my hand, pulling me into the stall with him. Then he latched the door behind us and maneuvered me so I was sitting on the toilet facing him.

"Here's the thing," Trace began. "Sitting in school all day, I get horny. No way to take care of it, so by the end of the day, I'm ready to explode." To prove his point, he unsnapped his jeans and tugged his pants and underwear halfway down his thighs. His cock was hard and throbbing, all eight thick inches of it. He pulled my head towards his groin with one hand and pointed his cock at my mouth with the other.

I put my hands on his belly and pushed him away. "Trace. We can't do this. Not here. It's a public restroom."

"No one will see us," he said. "Even if someone comes in, we're back here in the corner where they can't tell what we're doing."

"If they look underneath, they'll see two pairs of feet."

"So? If someone comes in, lift your feet up and all they'll see is mine. Please, Caleb. I'm fuckin' horny. Help a guy out," he urged.

"I think it's a bad idea—" I tried to say, but he worked the tip of his cock into my open mouth and shoved it in. Reflexively, I opened my mouth wider and sucked in a breath. Trace took advantage of the moment to shove his cock against the back of my throat.

"Get it wet all over," he begged, sliding his cock in and out. "Like that. Yeah, that's good."

My initial concern over Trace's impulsiveness was rapidly being overwhelmed by my desire for Trace's heavy cock. I could smell the musk coming off his crotch, and I began to want him in my mouth almost as much as he wanted to be there. My only hope was he'd be so horny it would be over in thirty seconds and then we could get out of here before we were caught, but judging by the boy's stamina in the past, I didn't think that was likely.

I pulled my mouth off and slurped hard on the cap, feeling a sticky gush of precum squirt out onto my tongue. I licked it off and lapped all around the ridge of his cock, making him groan softly. Moving down to his balls, I sucked each one. Trace held my head in his hands, pushing his hips forward and pressing his groin against my face.

I looked up and saw a look of intense concentration. He saw me staring and bit his lip. "Can you get back on my cock, Caleb? I like it when you suck my balls, but I really want you to deep throat me."

I grabbed his cock and pushed it back against his belly, then licked from the base to the tip, smearing spit all over, moving up and down the thick shaft to cover it with my saliva. Then I pulled his dick down, pointing it at my mouth, and took him in, sliding halfway down. The tip of his cock pressed against the entrance to my throat. I took a deep breath and pushed forward, forcing it to follow the curvature of my throat.

Fortunately, Trace had a slight downward bend, and he slid into my throat without too much trouble, making me gag only a little. He pulled out slightly, waited for me to catch my breath, then slid slowly deeper, giving me time to get used to the huge spongy tip that was blocking my throat. With each slow thrust, he pushed deeper, until I felt his belly pushing against my lips.

He stroked the front of my throat. "Swallow my cock, Caleb. I love that feeling."

"Mmm kaay," I hummed.

"Oh, yeah. Keep doing that," he moaned. "The vibration feels awesome!"

I had to push him away to get more air. He waited, and when he saw me take a deep breath and hold it, he began quickly face-fucking me, smashing against my face and forcing his cock into my throat. His gentle caresses were gone, replaced by wild, frenzied lust.

Every dozen thrusts, he pulled out slightly and gave me a chance to suck in frantic breaths through my nose. Then he started again, grabbing my head and pulling me against his groin, quickly thrusting in and out with such power I thought he'd bloody my lip.

At one point he giggled and said, "You're turning kinda purple, Caleb."

I pushed him back until his cock popped out of my mouth, dripping with my saliva. "That's what happens when you can't breathe!" I exclaimed.

"Sorry," he apologized, but then he aimed his cock at my mouth and started pushing it in before I could say anything else. "I'll go faster," he promised.

And he did. He slid his cock into my throat before I could get a full breath of air and immediately began throat-fucking me, slapping his belly into my nose and his balls against my chin. When I thought for certain I'd pass out from lack of oxygen, Trace stood up on his toes and forced himself as far into my mouth as he could. I felt his body shake as he violently came, pouring his cum down my throat.

He slid most of the way out, leaving just the tip of his cock in my mouth. Sharp, tangy cum oozed out onto my tongue. He urged me to keep sucking, drawing out the last drops.

Then he pulled out, leaned down, and kissed me on the mouth, licking my lips and tasting his own cum. He smiled and said, "Tastes pretty good for an illusion, doesn't it?"

͠ ͠ ͠

Drew was my designated assistant chef that night, which meant dicing tomatoes, chopping onions, and slicing lettuce for tacos while I browned meat and added seasonings. Drew never minded when he was asked to help in the kitchen, and I suspected he would one day enjoy cooking himself, judging by the interest he showed in the kitchen.

"What spices are you using?" he asked, watching as I pulled containers from the cabinet.

"Mostly red chili," I replied. "That's the primary taste you want. And a little black pepper, onion salt, and beef bouillon. A tiny dash of cumin and oregano. They're both pretty strong, so you don't want to overwhelm the flavor."

"Don't they sell taco flavoring?"

"Sure, but I like to make it from scratch. Try different things, you know."

Drew nodded. "I get it. Are we doing hard tacos only?"

I pointed to a package of flour tortillas. "I thought we'd have hard and soft both. What do you think?"

He giggled and jiggled his crotch. "I like hard and soft."

"I deserved that," I admitted. "Set you up for it, didn't I?"

He giggled again. "We can have hard and soft tacos for dinner and hard wieners for a midnight snack."

I smiled and ruffled his hair. "Are you horny every minute of the day?"

"Pretty much," he replied. "Aren't you?"

"Not as horny as you boys, but I'll admit I'm enjoying all the fun nights since you guys moved in."

Drew looked at me sideways. "Are you going to be able to eat tacos tonight?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

He smirked and said, "I just thought your throat might be too sore to swallow."

I turned and gave him my meanest glare. "Why do you say that, Drew?"

He obviously didn't think I was serious, because he giggled and pretended to be sticking a cock in and out of his mouth, poking his tongue in and out of his cheek. "I heard your throat might be sore after your afternoon in the mall restroom." He grabbed his stomach and laughed out loud.

I advanced on him menacingly, holding my hands out to grab his shoulders. "And who told you that?" I growled, trying not to smile.

"The boy with the biggest dick in the family," he said, snorting.

"Do you believe everything he says?"

"No. Was he lying?"

I smiled and squeezed his shoulders. "He wasn't this time, and my throat is a little sore, but I can still eat."

"I knew it!" Drew exclaimed.

I tilted my head and studied him carefully. "You knew what?"

"When Trace got home from the mall, he didn't want to do blowjobs or anything with me, not like he normally does. I figured he probably wasn't horny because you guys did something together at the mall, so I asked him what you guys did. He said, `None of your business, you little creep,' and that was all he would say. But all week long, Trace has been talking about how much he loves it when you deep-throat him, and your voice sounded a little scratchy just then, so I figured it all out. I'm smart, you know."

I shook my head in amazement. "You tricked me, you little bugger!"

"Yep. I did," Drew said, smiling big.

I jumped at him, grabbing him before he could get away, and tickled his ribs. He squealed but didn't try to get away. I pulled him against my chest and hugged him. "You're a rascal. You know that?"

He nodded and pulled my hand down to his crotch. "You can have a hard one right now if you don't wanna wait for dinner."

"Right here in the kitchen?" I asked, turning the heat off under the taco meat. It was done and ready to serve.

"I'm not kinky like Trace," Drew said. "Let's go in your bedroom." He took my hand and tugged, leading me down the hall. By the time we reached the bedroom, he had unfastened his pants and worked them down below his butt, turning around to show me his soft thighs, throbbing five-inch dick, and small patch of dark pubes.

He reached forward and unsnapped my pants, eager to get me semi-naked too. When my cock plopped out of my underwear, he grabbed it in one hand and stroked it while fondling my balls with his other hand. I wasted no time reaching for his thin boner and hairless balls.

"What did you have in mind?" I asked.

"Sixty-nine," he said, backing up to the bed and jumping to land in the middle. He patted the spot next to him, motioning for me to lie down.

I stretched out next to Drew, stroking his inner thigh, marveling at how soft it was.

He did the same, looking down at me, watching me. He grinned and stroked my leg from my knee to my ball sac.

I extended my tongue and licked his cock from the base to the tip.

Drew did the same.

I held his dick between my thumb and finger and sucked only the cap into my mouth.

Drew took my cock in his hand, holding it with a finger and thumb, and slid his mouth over the tip, sucking gently.

I bobbed halfway down his cock, stopping and grinning at him.

He tried to do the same, mimicking my actions exactly, but gagged when my cock touched the back of his throat. He pulled off and smiled at me. "Can't go as far down as you."

I kept bobbing up and down on his cock, sliding to the base and holding him in my mouth.

Drew didn't try to imitate me, but instead licked all around the end of my cock, making electric tingles shoot from my balls to my cock.

Pulling off his dick, I said, "That's just as good."

He smiled and continued licking, but I noticed his hand sneaking between my legs and one finger playing with my pucker. Two could play that game. I slid one hand past his balls and found his hole with my finger, teasing the edges and sliding partway inside. Drew moaned and pulled his hand back, sucking on his finger to get it wet, then moving his hand back to my butt and sliding his wet finger slowly past my sphincter. I wet a finger and found his hole, pressing gently until my finger popped inside. His hot, velvety smooth bowels gripped my finger, squeezing and gripping as I pushed deeper inside, stopping when I felt the rough bump that I knew must be his prostate. I prodded gently, making Drew jump and thrust his cock into my mouth. Definitely hit the spot.

Unlike his brother Trace, Drew didn't have as much control over his body, and it was only seconds later that he stiffened, pushed his groin against my face, and held himself rigid. I stopped probing with my finger and waited as his body quivered, emptying his young load in my throat.

When he finished, he seemed to collapse, falling limp before me. Only his dick remained stiff, throbbing slightly as his orgasm slowly faded.

His cum was nothing like Trace's. Watery, sweet, with only a trace of bitterness. I was enjoying my dessert before my meal, I realized.

Drew shook himself and renewed his assault on my cock and butthole. His finger darted in and out, not getting far enough inside to stimulate me, but still causing tingles every time he forced his way in. My cock, on the other hand, was thoroughly enjoying the energetic bath his young mouth was giving it.

I relaxed, pulling my finger out of his butt, and gently sucked on his cock, drawing out the last drops while avoiding the sensitive tip.

Drew grabbed my balls with his free hand and squeezed them with just enough pressure to make me gasp. He knew how I like a bit of extra testicle tugging while getting a blowjob, and it was just what I needed to send me over the edge. My cock began lurching, sending globs of cum into his mouth. His cheeks bulged out, and though he tried valiantly to swallow every drop, half of it seeped past his lips and dripped down the sides of my cock onto my belly and balls.

He eagerly licked up whatever had leaked out, then sat up and smiled at me. "How was that?"

I turned and pulled him down next to me on the bed, hugging him to my chest. "That was wonderful, Drew. The perfect way to start my meal!"

He giggled. "Do I taste good?"

"Delicious. I could eat you every day and never get enough."

He giggled more and asked, "As good as Trace?"

"Well, that's hard to say. The flavors are very, very different. Trace tastes like ... a spicy taco, and you taste like a bowl of ice cream."

He snuggled closer and asked, "What does Dad taste like?"

"Oh, he's a big, delicious steak sandwich."

Drew laughed and punched me in the chest. "You're teasing me now."

"I'm not," I assured him. "I love the taste of each one of you. All different, but all magical."

Drew got quiet then, and I began to wonder why.

"What's wrong, buddy?" I asked, stroking his cheek.

He looked up at me and frowned. "Trace told me what he said about me being an evil sorcerer. He said he told you that everyone in the family is an illusion that I created. That's mean."

"He was just joking, Drew."

"I know, but it was still mean. He was making fun of Figment, and I don't like that."

I continued stroking Drew's cheek, adding, "We all deal with things in different ways. Trace can be rough with his actions and his words, but that's how he works out his emotions. Figment does it with imagination. You do it with jokes and playfulness."

"I know, but Trace makes me mad when he says mean things. I wanna punch him, but I don't, `cause he'd clobber me."

"I understand, Drew. And it's okay." I paused and then asked, "How about you? What do you think of Figment's stories?"

Drew shrugged. "They're okay, I guess. I'm glad he's talking again, but sometimes I wish he'd stop talking about the Feywild so much."

"Why?"

Another shrug. "I don't like thinking about the land we left behind. I like it here, now, with you."

͠ ͠ ͠

Once again, I had a lot to think about, so that night, I sat on the back porch, staring at the stars blinking like diamonds in the cold winter sky. There were thick clouds blowing in, obscuring the moon, a sign that snow might be on the way.

Figment walked out of the house dressed in a light tee-shirt and short pants. He walked up to me and climbed into my lap, cuddling with me.

"Aren't you cold?" I asked, wrapping my arms around him to keep him as warm as possible.

"No," he replied. "Fey elves aren't bothered by cold. We live in mountains, some higher than these, and there's always snow on the ground. Winter doesn't bother us as much it does humans, or half-elves like you."

"Oh, so you've decided I'm a half-elf?"

"Yeah. Half human. Half fey elf."

"Really? My parents might be surprised to learn that."

He pressed himself deeper into my arms. "They aren't really your parents. They adopted you, took you in, and raised you as their own."

I smiled and hugged him. "I wonder how I got here, in Colorado."

"It was an accident," Figment whispered. "You weren't supposed to come here, but you wandered off one day and found your way here. The trip must have been hard on you, because you can't remember where you came from any more."

"Hmmm, I guess that's why you and your family came for me?"

He nodded. "Yes. We're here to bring you home. To bring you back to the Feywild."

"That sounds wonderful, but I find myself loving Colorado. What if I decide I want to stay here rather than return to the Feywild?"

"You won't want to stay. You need to go back, and you're finally realizing it." He slipped his arms farther around me and hugged me, desperately it seemed.

In that moment, I stopped noticing the cold in the outside air, though I now felt a chill in my soul.

 

The end of Chapter Ten of FIGMENT