Chapter I - Good Vibrations

I guess it would be a little premature to begin with how my daddy issues stemmed from my abusive, emotionally impotent father. But it's kind of integral to where my brother and I are today.

At just turned 18-years-of-age, I am what you'd call the breadwinner of the pair. I work full-time from home as a freelance web designer, earning what I guess you'd regard as a "comfortable" living wage. Enough to pay the rent in a modest flat on the outskirts of London, take on the utility bills and make sure my brother Corey and I are clothed and able to go out regularly.

Corey on the other hand, focuses primarily on his studies. Bound to start attending Regent High, he's built up quite the reputation as a top grade student amongst the faculty and student body alike in his old middle school bad home. One of the top five to be precise. For a 15-turning 16-year-old, you'd think he was more put-together than me. His intelligence and wit is what got me to stick my foot in my current career after all. But all of this wasn't achieved without pain.

When our mother passed away at the tender age of 38, our entire family dynamic was shifted. Dad gradually went into this cocoon of withdrawal from any and all family engagement. We stopped having eating together, watching our favourite shows together - just about all communication was shot down between Dad and us both.

But then after about three months of moping and no speak, he suddenly turned a leaf. I had planned a trip to a local Chinese place for us to mark our first meal together since what Corey and I only now refer to as "The Silence." I was on my way to finishing secondary school and Corey was doing okay, but all together there was only good to be felt about things since getting through the initial bereavement. But it all went as fast as it came.

After some great chemistry and lots of chatter during that dinner, Dad was plastered from the barrage of alcohol he had ordered. The second he slammed the front door shut, Corey turned and gave me a look that indicated he may have known Dad's chirpy demeanour was just a temporary facade. Dad came stomping from the entrance hallway to the living room where Corey and I were standing side-to-side and stopped dead still right there in front of us. Crimson with fury and bloodshot eyes that gave away just how intoxicated he was.

'You cunts are my living nightmare.' he barked; the foul stench from his mouth drifting up my nose along with passionate spittle.

My eyes widened. I hadn't heard him swear since I was a pre-teen. Given his anger issues due to his own vile upbringing, I wasn't too surprised when he'd occasionally burst into a rage like this. Although, he'd tried his damn well hardest not to let it beat him. We didn't say anything. I quickly shot a glance at Corey to see what his expression was and it mirrored mine. Horror.

'You two pricks are what I've been left with for the end of my days. You two!' He yelled with verbal violence. 'Why the fuck couldn't your mother be here instead of you two lazy swine?!'

'Screw this', Corey muttered, turning on his heel to make his way to his room.

Dad wasn't having it. He lunged forward and grabbed him by the shoulders with both hands and a menace in his eyes that looked like a murder might take place. I instinctively rugby-tackled him, my adrenaline soaring, as Dad and I went crashing to the floor. We wrestled for a few seconds, but his burly weight and full-grown strength overpowered me in a moments turn. He got me into a vice-grip headlock and all I could do was shut my eyes.

'Get the fuck off him, Dad! You're fucking hurting him!', Corey was shouting. Dad didn't relent. Things where going dark and light-headed for me and my strength that was failing to do much at all, was plummeting.

Needless to say, Corey getting the emergency services on hold forced Dad to finally relent and let me go, collapsing in a heaving sob that would make you believe he was living out some apocalyptic nightmare. We went into silent retreat for a week after that episode. But it wasn't the end of his drunken wrath. Those episodes reoccured numerous times to the point where me holding a knife out at arms length in defence whilst Dad stood there laughing menacingly with a bottle of brandy in one hand made Corey and I realise it may be the best time to leave.

After taking every penny of hard earned savings - including a fund left for us by mum - and quitting my part-timer, Corey and I took a train South to the city of London. We'd had enough of the country without our abusive father forcing further geographical resentment. It was to be a new start. Two gigantic gym bags filled with our most precious belongings and clothes, and the fond memories Mum left behind. We had made a pact to never look back and to carve a future in the image of our mother.

A few months later, we had settled into a quaint little flat. Two small bedrooms, a tiny bathroom consisting of a shower, sink and toilet, and a small kitchen and living room. It was all rather tight-fitting, but we'd come to adore the cosy newfound freedom. Once the court approved of my ability to be Corey's legal guardian, Corey, being the smart-ass that he was, managed to bag me a crash course in web design and he made sure to get himself a placement in a secondary school. For me, school was no longer a viable option. I was to keep this ship afloat and with all my power, make the breakaway from our country life a success. And no - no country accents to be found here. You'd think we were city kids from the get-go which only made the transitioning simpler.

So here we are. It's July and the weather is fine. Great, actually.

'Corey!' I shout from the sofa, browsing my phone for cinema listings that could give us an option for out-house entertainment. 'What do you wanna do today, bro?'

'I dunno, man. I was thinking-' Corey mused, walking out the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his glistening six foot toned white torso and his hand ruffling his still wet, short blonde hair. '- we could maybe just hangout in a park nearby?' he said, standing just behind the sofa, looking in the wall-mounted portrait mirror. 'Wuddya think?'

'Yeah, sounds chill. I can't be bothered to spend another Saturday indoors doing work. But when we get back, you're cooking so I can finish a clients specs.' I say without breaking eye-contact with my phone.

'Oh yeah,' Corey muses, a smile clear in his tone. 'The "niche" site.'

I roll my eyes. He's brought this up a few times. I've already done a few job specs by this point, but a couple days ago I received my very first risqué site request. "Sagging". It was all about guys submitting videos and pictures of them sagging in jeans or basketball shorts with their boxer-briefs showing. Depending on the person, you could get a standard sag, which only showed the waistband of the underwear; what the first few submissions were only made up of. I'm guessing due to confidence. But several days of submissions later and the majority would be made up of low sags. Where the jeans or shorts would be near their knees and you'd be able to see the entirety of their underwear if they lifted their shirt. Something everyone who submitted did.

The two founders of the site requested I build all the already sent submissions into the site. Something I only did if I was paid a premium. I usually only crafted the foundation and left it to the client to fill in the content. With me having to view all the submissions in order to place them, I was exposed to a whole new world. Guys with tight, incredibly toned bodies wearing only top-of-the-line boxer-briefs that fitted them to the exact dimensions. Their hairless abs complimenting their bulges that always created an aesthetically pleasing mound on the front.

Now, I never watch porn. Neither does Corey (or that I know of), but we're not prudes in any sense. In fact, I watched Love by Gaspar Noe with him not too long ago. Won't lie. I was as hard as you can get by the end of the very first scene. A girl sensually stroking this twenty-somethings thick cut cock. Judging by the tugging and rearranging, bro had the same issue. But this was new. Clearly attractive guys, modeling their "sag" for the pleasure of others. I checked up online to see if it was a thing. Yup, its a thing. But it didn't stop there.

They'd gently knead and tug at their covered crotches until there was a visible outline of their hard dicks printed through the skintight underwear. And I can only assume the planned subscribers-only content would most likely feature some of those guys following through with less clothing. Having to see this stuff as I received it seemed to cause a reaction I never thought I'd have; the feeling of my limp dick slowly unwinding and growing firmer as the guy on screen massaged his crotch to full hard-on. I mean, sure, I got hard during that first scene in "Love", but that was because of the sensuality of it all, not because I was enjoying the site of the guys thick meaty cock spewing a volcanic load after a couple minutes of a good sturdy hand job. Shit, just thinking of it now makes me tingle.

'So are you just going to stare at your phone all day or are you gonna get ready to head out?' Corey's voice interrupted my daydream. Instinctively I put my free hand on my crotch to hide my slowly rising member. I looked up at Corey and immediately made a mental connection to those guys in the sagging videos. When did he become so lean and muscularly toned? You could see the clear definition of a six pack that laid grounds to forming pecs, and then drifting down you had a V-line that was so immaculately etched into his body, it was like it was his trademark. In fact, even the way he wore his towel was exactly what you'd call a sag. So low I could see his hairless crotch. Huh...I guess he shaved.

'You done?' again I was thrown for six.

'Wha- huh?' I half-laughed in embarrassment at being caught effectively ogling my brother.

He smirked, 'We going or what?'

'Yeah, no, yeah lets go.' I got up, thankfully facing the telly in front of me, my back to Corey. My now full-mast dick tented my PJ bottoms with no sign of sharing my embarrassment. I looked down at my phone pretending to see an email.

'Yeah, go get dressed, I just have to sort this client out.'

Corey giggled, walking towards his room, wet feet slapping the tiles. I quickly dug into my bottoms and rearranged my stiff tool and tucked it into my waistband, then hurried to the bathroom to brush my teeth and all the rest of it. By the time I was done, I had forgotten about the mishap and was thankfully limp. I went to my room to change into some summer gear - pair of shorts, t-shirt, white socks, trainers, when a light rapid tapping caught my ears.

It sounded like it was coming from my brothers room, but I wasn't certain. I quickly checked myself in the full-length and made note of my pale legs that needed some sun. Corey and I had the hairless gene where only our heads would sprout soft, voluminous blond hair. From the neck down, we were mostly hairless, not counting the extremely faint dusting of ultra-fine, blond leg and arm hair and the obvious pubic region. But I tended to shave mine neat, and by the looks of Corey, it happened to be a rather popular trend amongst others, too. So not having any visible hair on my arms or legs meant that a tan would be a must for the rest of the summer.

Since I was ready, I decided to sate my curiosity in the tapping sound. A pat-pat-pat that kept tempo. I snuck quietly in the direction of the sound and realized it definitely was coming from Corey's room. A few strides and my ear was against his door. Silence. The tapping stopped. Probably playing drums on his legs again.

'Oi, Cor!'

'Err, yeah?' his reply a little gruff.

'You mind? I wanna be out before the sun sets, you know?'

'Yeah, just get yourself ready and I'll be out.'

-

The Sun was at peak and at 1pm, Covent Garden was heaving. Corey and I gave a collective groan. No way were we spending our day lounging wedged in-between hundreds of people. We argued options and settled on Bushy Park. A luscious, grandiose, immensely beautiful green public park that I tended to visit on days the indoors felt slightly claustrophobic, or if I needed to work on some designs in the best possible environment.

We sat under a gargantuan oak and I suppose due to the soaring heat, Corey took his shirt off, leaving him in only a pair of gym shorts and trainers without socks. He spread out his shirt and laid it neatly on the grass before lying down on his back with his arms behind his head. His arm pits, just like the rest of him, had not a strand of hair. My eyes drifted down and I noticed no boxers waistband.

'Feeling comfy, are we?' I hinted, a glimmer of mischief in my tone.

'Whats that?' He replied, with his eyes shut, clearly embracing everything the outdoors had to offer.

'I see you decided less was more.' There was a brief silence before his confused expression turned into a crooked smile.

'I suppose I've seen most guys in this weather who take advantage, so I thought I may as well. Besides, it's not like I don't have the body for it.' His smile grew into a grin, exposing his perfect hollywood-white smile. While I wasn't quite lucky enough to avoid braces as a kid, Corey got the very best of all our parents genes. I always used to joke about being the beta test whilst he was the full, bug-free release.

'No, you're right. Looks like you've been working out.'

'Hahaha, I need to get back to my routine, actually. I only just started with my 5 mile morning runs. I think I'll get back to my full body stuff from tonight onwards.'

I remember watching Corey when he was 14. Pull-ups, push-ups, crunches - absolutely rigorous in his workout routine and needless to say, his dieting. Our family line was never a healthy one. Full of diabetics and obesity; the hallmark for any gym recruitment package. I guess Corey just felt compelled to avoid that mess, and since his early teens came up with a self-made regiment that he has since abided by. Recently, with the whole drama and all having taken place and us finding our footing here in the capital, that regime slipped a little. But he never looked or came across in mood any differently.

'You do that.'

'You should too, you know. It'd be good for you. I don't want a fat slob of a brother.'

'Pfft, as if. I'm in no way even hinting at going down our aunt's and uncles route.'

'Yeah, but it's only because you were a sports whiz in school. Now you're mainly on the computer all day. It might catch up with you.'

I guess he's right. I didn't have footie, athletics, tennis and the slew of other activities I did for fun to keep me in this shape anymore. I was on my own and had to make an actual effort to go out and do something now. Ugh. Growing up sucks.

'Fine! I'll probably start tomorrow.'

I leaned back against the massive tree trunk behind me and looked out toward the field in front of me. Given the immaculate weather and it being the weekend, I was surprised to find it not as crowded as it had potential to be.

'You know...if you want...'

'Huh?' I replied to Corey's rambling; still distant in thought.

'You could watch me workout tonight, if you wanted?'

I looked down at him, my eyes once again resting on the fact he wasn't showing a waistband. 'Ummm, sure?'

'Just for, like, to see what I do and then you can take away what you need for your own workouts. I think it'd motivate you a little more knowing what you're in for.'

'Oh, true. Yeah, I could sit in for sure. If its no problem with you.'

'Feel free, bro.'

'Speaking of free,' I replied, again with the suggestive tone. 'Whats with the free-balling?'

'What?' He opened his eyes and looked down, I presume to make sure he wasn't flapping out from one of the leg holes. He quickly shot a glance with a sly smile and then closed his eyes again. 'Oh yeah, why?'

'Oh nothing, just didn't think you were that courageous.'

'Theres a lot you probably didn't think, that you'd be surprised about.' He replied, grinning with confidence.

'Oh, is there now?' I mocked, indicating for him to give me such an example.

'Well, I'm not stupid. I know you have a couple idea's. Let's hear it.'

My face heated up instantly. I was expecting him to recoil in embarrassment or something. Not ask me to confirm that I had effectively been staring at him the whole day.

'Nah it's cool, I was just sur-'

'Ah-ah-ahhhh.' He taunted. 'Tell me what you'd noticed, and I may confirm or deny it.'

Should I tell him? Let him know that I had most likely ogled the fuck out of him?

'Welllll, I guess, since you're free-balling, I did notice there to be a lack of hair down there.'

Corey opened his eyes briefly to check himself and then closed them again.

'You know damn well you wouldn't be able to see shit, if I did or didn't have any.'

'What? Of course I can.'

'Puhhlease. So it wasn't this morning that you noticed, eh?' His mischievous side now peaking.

'This morning?' I said dumbstruck, but clearly embarrassed as hell. Was I about to be busted?

'Eh, I guess it's the trend or something.' Without a pause he pulled his right hand out from under his head and pushed the front of his shorts down until the waistband stopped right at the start of his dick. I guess I was right. He was completely and utterly bald. And because of the rest of his body's condition, it looked naturally hairless like the rest of him. No visible stubble or anything. But then came the realisation of what was happening.

'Holy fuck, dude! Chill!' I whisper-shouted, shocked by Corey's sudden brashness.

'Hahaha!' He pulled his other arm out from under his head and slid his hand to his hairless crotch, gently caressing the area. 'Smooth as silk.'

I was losing my mind. Never have we ever been this candid with each other. At most, I'd see him in boxer shorts when running to the bathroom at night. But nothing to this degree. But the real mind melter was my dick suddenly hardening. Why the ever living hell was my cock hardening over this?!

'Dude, you've proved your point, okay? Put that shit away, you're in a public place!' I whispered, still in a mild panic about what had just happened.

'Pfft, relax. No one's even near us, let alone looking at us.' But he pulled his shorts back up and went back to resting his head on his hands. His smile brighter than ever.

'Oh, by the way. I prefer to workout in my boxer-briefs. You okay with that?'

-

Hey guys, Corey here. Thanks for giving this story a read. It's been a while since I've written anything so pardon the rust. If you have any questions, ideas, suggestions, fantasies or just want to tell me how much you came, don't hesitate to send me an email. All feedback welcome. Happy Reading!