Date: Mon, 15 Jul 2013 20:00:45 -0700 (PDT) From: Alex O'donnell Subject: Cinderfella, part 10 The following story is an erotic fantasy story meant for mature readers and should only be read by adults over the age of eighteen years old. It involves depictions of sex. If this subject matter offends, then stop reading this page now. This story is a work of fiction and is not intended to depict any living person. Do not read this story if you live in an area where it is illegal to do so. The author does not condone the actions in this story. This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. The author would appreciate your comments, pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions. My thanks to Mike, Em, Donna, Larry, Crockshucker, Seraph, Paul, RK, Orso, Thor, James and Mitchell for the feedback and story suggestions. The amount of e-mails I have received concerning this story, particularly parts 8 and 9, has been incredible. I've tried to reply to all of the messages as best I can. Your encouragement, ideas, and even criticism have kept this story going, and I'm extremely grateful for your comments and ideas. I guess I write slowly. For those of you impatiently waiting for me to write more, you're welcome to check out "The Ultimate Muscle Hunk Challenge", a 23-part story in "Athletics" that I wrote last year, which may help pass the time. It's not the same type of story, but some of you may like it. Please donate to Nifty. Your contributions keep the archive free. Cinderfella, part 10 It was the year 2030 when the repeal of the 13th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution changed my life. Diminishing incomes meant my mother was no longer able to pay the bills, and I had willingly signed a contract indenturing myself to my new stepfather, a man named Jake Head. Jake was a total jerk, as were his sons, and I hated every moment living in his house. Every day seemed worse than the one before. * * * * I spent most of the night cleaning up from the party, going to bed around 2 AM. Luckily, I still woke up by 6:30, in plenty of time to groom myself and get breakfast going. By 7, I was serving Jake, Christopher, and a bleary-eyed Daniel breakfast. Daniel obviously had a hangover. "Daniel, I'm really disappointed that you chose to get that drunk last night," my stepfather said, shaking his head. "Like the Good Book says, 'Wine bites like a serpent and stings like an adder'. You should know better, son." "Come on. Lay off the sermons, Dad," Daniel said, holding his head in his hands. "I didn't come up here for lectures." "I want you to respect my home and my rules, Daniel," Jake said testily. "You can do what you want at your drunken frat parties, but here, under my roof, you will follow my rules. Understood?" "Yes sir," Daniel muttered. "I'm serious, Daniel," Jake continued. "When you get so drunk that you pass out in the upstairs hall bathroom, you disgrace the entire family." "I'm sorry, Dad," Daniel moaned. It was the first time I had heard Jake seriously lecture either of my stepbrothers about anything, after he had spent the last ten days lecturing and correcting ME about the tiniest things. Hearing my stepfather finally lecturing Daniel, I felt joy running through me; it somehow felt like a tiny, brief moment of fairness. Unfortunately, the lecture ended all too soon. My stepfather mentioned something about "going back to Milwaukee", but I didn't really catch what he had said. Huh? Weren't we already in Milwaukee? "I'll gas up the car before we head out of town," Christopher said. "We'll need some gas money, Dad." I suddenly understood. They were headed back to school in Milwaukee. And we were somewhere outside of Milwaukee. It sounds crazy, but I hadn't known for the last ten days that I was living somewhere outside of Milwaukee. My so-called stepbrothers were headed back to Milwaukee! A rush of relief passed through me. I hated those two bastards worse than I hated my horrible stepfather. They had made my life a living hell for two years. Jake had only done so for ten days. Jake grabbed his wallet and set some bills in front of Christopher. "And we'll need money for Dick's food," Christopher said. Jake pulled out more cash, stacking it on top of the other bills with a sigh. Money for MY food? What did Christopher mean? "Alright Dick," Jake said. "Finish washing those dishes and then you can get the boys' car loaded up with their suitcases. And don't forget to grab your toothbrush." "Sir, why would I need my toothbrush?" I ventured, already realizing the answer as I spoke. "Don't be a dumbass, Dick," Christopher said. "You can't spend two weeks in Milwaukee without brushing your teeth. Jesus Christ, you're disgusting!" "Sir, I'm not going with them, am I?" I said, gripping the table as I spoke. I knew the answer to this question, too. "Of course you are, Dick," Jake said. "Your stepbrothers need your services, so I told them I wouldn't mind having you go to the university for a little while. It'll be good for you. Plus, it will help your mother and I spend a little 'alone time' together." "Sir, no, please," I begged. "I can't go with them. I have to go back to school in a few days, and--" "Now, Dick," Jake said, using that no-nonsense tone he used on me during lectures. "You know you can't go back to high school in your condition. You're an indentured servant. Think of the disturbance it would cause, a half-dressed servant wandering down the halls like that. Besides, it's not legal here in Wisconsin for indentured servants or slaves to go to school." "But Sir," I cried, "The recruiter at DCI said I could still go to college." "You still can, Dick." "How?" I asked, tears running down my cheeks. "I need a high school diploma to go to college!" "Oh, Lord, here come the water works," Jake said, rolling his eyes. "Dick, I know you're a homosexual, but I wish you would at least act like a man when I talk to you. Stop crying. You're not a baby." I was embarrassed by my stepfather's scornful words, and equally embarrassed that I was crying in front of my awful stepbrothers. I tried to pull myself together, wiping my face with my hands, angry with myself for sobbing in front of the three of them. I had just been caught off guard. "Listen to me, boy," Jake said, standing up and putting his hand on my shoulder, firmly squeezing the area between my neck and arm. "Once you've served your seven years, you'll be a Free Man again. You can get your GED, and then apply to any college or trade school in the country. You just have to serve your time first." "But that's seven years away," I said, my voice full of despair. "Oh, it's not so bad, Dick," my stepfather said, "Plenty of young men have served, and then gone on to be productive Free Men in society. You will, too. You'll see." He lifted my chin up so that I was looking him in the eyes. "It will be over before you know it, boy," he said firmly, using that tone people use on small, rebellious children. "Now, be a good boy and finish cleaning up the kitchen, then go get your stepbrothers' suitcases and then grab your toothbrush. They want to be on the road in the next fifteen minutes." Obediently, I cleaned up the kitchen, scarfing down a piece of bacon as I cleaned off the counter, then went upstairs to grab Daniel and Christopher's suitcases. Daniel wasn't even packed, so it took me several minutes to pack his suitcase. By the time I was finished packing, I already heard honking downstairs. I took the bags downstairs, then quickly ran down to grab my toothbrush. I wondered if I should be grabbing my clothes. But my stepfather had only mentioned my toothbrush, so I didn't take them. I went back upstairs, put my toothbrush between my teeth and grabbed a suitcase with each hand. I took the bags outside, where the chilly wind whipped at my flimsy garments. Christopher, in the driver's seat, popped the trunk. "About damn time," he remarked. As I loaded the trunk with the two suitcases, a yellow cab pulled up in the driveway. The two young women from last night got out of the cab. Mindy Van Lanningham and her nameless friend. The one with the distinctive eyes. The four of them exchanged greetings as I closed the trunk. Daniel got out of the car and kissed Mindy. Then the four of them got into the vehicle. I moved around to the back side door, where Mindy was sitting. "Excuse me, honorable Miss," I said politely, using the honorific I had been taught to use in front of young Free Women. "I have to get into the car." I thought she would just slide over. She just sat there. On the other side of the car, Daniel got out, slamming the door angrily. "What are you doing, buttmunch?" he yelled at me, coming around to my side of the car. "I'm sorry, Sir," I said. "I thought... I thought I was going with you." "You are, asshole," he said. "But you don't ride in the car." "Where...?" "Chris, pop the trunk again," Daniel sighed. "Icky Ricky closed it." As Christopher popped the trunk of the car open, I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. "It's not legal for a servant to travel in the same part of a vehicle as a Free Man," Daniel explained. "'No fraternizing'. Luckily, the trunk's still available. Hop in." I just stood there for a moment. Surely he didn't really expect me to get into the trunk of the car? "I said hop in," he said. "Sir, I'll smother," I said. "No you won't," Daniel replied. "There's plenty of air in there, and a 'slave vent' for extra circulation. Now get in." "This is getting tiresome," Mindy sighed from the back seat of the car. I had to rearrange the suitcases so that they were sitting on top of each other on one side of the trunk. Then, slowly, awkwardly, I crawled into the trunk, feeling like a complete loser. If you've never gotten into the trunk of a car before, you can't understand how awkward it is to get into one for the first time, especially when you're holding a toothbrush in one hand. As I tried to find a comfortable position, Daniel said to me, "Oh. Nearly forgot. Sometimes it gets a little warm in the trunk. Better give me your shirt." Slowly, reluctantly, I pulled my shirt up over my head, bumping both my elbows in the process. He held out his hand and I gave him my tank top. "Shorts, too, buttmunch," he said. "Sir, please," I begged. "Don't make me do this." "Come on, Icky Ricky," he urged, firmness in his voice. "We don't have all day. We've gotta get going. We've got classes tomorrow. I'm going to be pretty mad if I oversleep tomorrow morning." Slowly, with great reluctance, I complied, pulling my undershorts down and then off my legs. Then I started to hand them to him. "I'm not touching your dirty undershorts, asswipe," he said to me scornfully. "Toss them outside." I tossed my briefs outside the trunk, and then Daniel slammed the trunk door shut. My world turned black as I heard my stepbrother walking to the side of the car, and then getting in. There was a ray of light coming in from a four-inch hole in the wall between the back seat and the trunk. That was the 'slave vent', I realized. I could hear the four of them talking. I heard Christopher turn on the car, as the radio blasted music and then the car lurched down the driveway and out to the street. As I sat naked in the trunk of my stepbrothers' car, I wondered if my life could get any worse. As it turns out, it could. To be continued...