Date: Sun, 12 Dec 2004 09:42:57 -0800 From: O Eye Subject: The Magazine The following is a work of fiction. Any relationship to any person living or dead may make the story hotter to read, but is, truly, coincidental. This story includes a fictional account of consensual sexual acts between pre-teen and teenaged boys. If you are offended by content of this nature, you might want to remove the link to Nifty from your favorites/bookmark list. If it is a status offense for you, the reader, to enjoy sexually explicit fictional content of any sort, GET OFF YOUR BUTT AND OUT OF THE F'N MALL AND START ORGANIZING! When I was a kid, the Youth Liberation Front organized an unsuccessful, but motivating, assault on status offenses. Do the same for yourself. This story is anti-copyrighted. By that, the author means that you are free to print, copy, share or otherwise distribute this work as long as you neither charge more for such distribution than your costs of such distribution, and as long as you do not violate any limitations placed upon such distribution by Nifty, the publisher. O. Eye The Magazine (b/b/t/t) Topher was Joey's best friend, and Topher's birthday party was really awful. Except for the Homesteader boys, who were big, like high school, Topher was the only boy that lived anywhere close. They'd been friends as long as Joey could remember, which, at seven, wasn't all that long. And then Topher turned eleven and he had a lot of boys from the school and everybody played rough and Joey got a bloody nose when he got pushed into the ground playing tag and he cried and all the boys, even his best friend Topher, called him a 'cry baby' and laughed and he cried and wanted to go home. But Joey couldn't go home. Daddy had to go to away to "arrange the financing" for a new tractor. Joey guessed correctly that that meant money and probably a lot of money, maybe even more than one hundred dollars. Joey's momma had gone with daddy and Joey had to stay at Topher's house that night. Eventually, the party ended and the older boys went home. Joey and Topher played trucks for a while. They had supper. They took a bath together, watched Batman on TV and went to bed. These things they'd always done, but Joey noticed coldness in Topher he'd never been aware of before. Topher walked Joey home the next day. The path led from the back of a field in the farm Topher's dad owned, through fields and past the farm pond of the Homesteader farm, then into a field of Joey's daddy and so home. Close to the Homesteader pond there stood an abandoned barn, grayed and aging in the sun. Joey heard the voices at about the same time that Topher did. The Homesteaders, Phil and Bry stood smoking cigarettes by the barn door. Joey wanted to just keep walking, but Topher wanted to stop and talk. As Joey listened, Phil and Bry made fun of Topher for hanging out with a little kid. Bry was two years older than Topher. Phil was sixteen Joey knew. Phil had a lot of spots on his face and a bunch of straggly hairs on his face. Bry just had a couple of spots and a little brush of hairs over his top lip. Topher got a cigarette from Phil and smoked it. Joey walked home by himself. It was early afternoon. Joey stopped at the Homesteader's farm pond. The air was still and hot and grasshoppers chirped in the tall grass. Joey stared at the pond, watching the occasional ripples circle out from where a bluegill or bass snapped at the surface. He wanted to go fishing. Maybe Topher would take him. His daddy wouldn't let him fish on his own. Turning from the pond Joey heard a scream in the old barn. It was Topher's voice! Joey ran to the barn door. Dust eddied in the air rising from the years-old straw. When his eyes had adjusted to the gloom, Joey could see no one inside. 'No!' he heard Topher's whine clearly, followed by a deeper mumbling. The voices came from over the boy's head. He looked up at the loft floor above. Joey strode across the floor to the ladder built onto one wall of the barn. Through the opening in the loft floor where the ladder stood he heard Phil say, 'You made a deal.' Topher's voice mumbled in return as Joey paused at the bottom of the ladder, one hand grasping a rung but not climbing, just listening. 'Doesn't count, he didn't pay for the cigarettes.' Joey guessed that was Phil's voice. 'I ain't doin' it, it hurts,' it was Topher, whining. 'Come here,' the teen voice demanded. Joey heard shuffling. Dust swirled down from the boards above, eddying in the shafts of sunlight slicing into the barn where the wall boards no longer met. It was quiet for a little while, then Joey thought he heard something like a smoochy kiss. It was a strange noise to hear, and Joey cocked his head trying to catch more of what was going on up in the loft. He heard a grunt, followed by someone spitting. Low mumbles reached his ear. He smelled cigarette smoke and heard feet moving overhead. Joey left the barn and sat against the wall in the sun thinking. Behind him he heard the voices of Topher, Bry and Phil as they came down the ladder. Bry was going to help Topher with his chores, then they'd go to Bry's to 'hang out.' Joey realized he'd be in the way. He made no noise. Not one of the older boys saw him as they left. The loft was empty except for a wooden crate. Joey walked around. There was a large wet spot near the crate that gave off an odd smell. 'It smells like the pool,' Joey thought. He touched the wet spot. It felt slimey. There was a blanket in the crate. Dusty and full of holes, it smelled like the cloth tent that his daddy sometimes set up for him to play in. Under the blanket was a plastic bottle of lotion with a pump thing on the top. And under the lotion bottle, there was the magazine. Joey retrieved the magazine from the bottom of the crate. The cover showed two men, one who looked to be about the same age as his own father, the other maybe a little younger. The older man had on blue-jeans and a white T-shirt. He held the younger man by the back of the neck. Joey could see the older man's fingers pressing into the flesh of the younger man. As near as the boy could tell, the younger man had no clothes on at all. Joey wasn't really sure. A bright red circle covered where the younger man's penis would be. Three letter X's were in the circle. The boy rocked back onto to his bottom and pulled his feet up to sit cross-legged. He stared at the words at top of the magazine cover, moving his lips to sound out the words like they taught him at school. Joey finally came up with three words he knew, "boy", "butt" and "slaves"; and one he'd never heard before, "fuck". It came to Joey that "butt" meant "butt" and not "but" and he blushed involuntarily, momentarily tossing the magazine to the floor of the loft. Joey stood and walked to the end of the loft, looking out of the barn over the fields surrounding it. He looked back over his shoulder, seeing the magazine where he'd left it. As if drawn by a rope, Joey walked directly back to the magazine and picked it up. There were three different sets of men in the pictures inside. Little stories, really, though to Joey, it didn't seem that way. There was no plot that he could discern. 'Why would men do that?' his brain screamed. Penises in mouths, tongues licking penises, tongues licking poopholes, penises in poopholes, and - very weird - penises shooting white goop. None of it made any sense to the seven-year-old, but something gnawed at his mind, causing him to look at the pictures in the center group over and over again. Suddenly, Joey knew what bothered him. The young man with the two older ones looked like Jeremiah, the man from college that worked for his daddy on the farm in the summers. Joey thought about Jeremiah. He went to "cow college", which as funny as it sounded, wasn't what it was. At least that's what Joey's daddy said. Still, the boy liked to think that Jeremiah went to a school with cows. He thought about it unusually often, imagining cows sitting in little chairs in front of little desks, carrying books in bags and playing tether ball. The boy focused on one picture where he could see the young man's face and there wasn't a penis shoved in the man's mouth. It did look like Jeremiah, but not enough Joey decided. Still, the boy had the sudden feeling that, even if it wasn't Jeremiah in the pictures, the summer hand was probably a boy butt fuck slave. Shortly after this conviction formed in Joey's mind, the notion that Jeremiah was Joey's daddy's boy butt fuck slave crept in. The boy threw the magazine violently into the crate and stood shuddering. A short time later he'd replaced the lotion and the blanket as was standing once again staring at the surface of the pond. Joey stood and thought. He wanted to ask his daddy why. 'Why was Jeremiah a boy butt fuck slave?' 'Why was he yours?' 'Why do you put your penis in his mouth?' '...in his boy butt?' Joey shuddered again, then noticed the tears on his cheeks and angrily fisted them away. He was such a little boy! Crying! Why couldn't he be big like Topher, he wondered. And then, magically, it was all clear. His daddy didn't do those things, it was Bry and Phil and, Joey smiled, Topher! They were playing the magazine, and Topher, Joey actually giggled at the thought, Topher was the 'boy butt'. "You have to go home," Topher stamped his foot. "No," Joey said. "I wanna play." "I'm not playin' with you. You have to go home," the eleven-year-old repeated. "You gonna play the magazine?" Joey asked. Topher's eyes widened, "What did you say?" "With Bry and Phil," Joey said. "Play the magazine?" Topher made a funny face. "Did you see us?" he whispered to the seven-year-old. "Nuh-uh," Joey shook his head in a negative. "How do you know?" Topher asked. "You don't know nothin'!" he added, then repeated, "You have to go home." "I heard you play it," Joey said. "I wanna play." "You can't play," Topher said. "It's only for big boys." Joey decided that the squealing gig might get him what he wanted, which was, actually, only to play with Topher. But if Topher was going to play the magazine, then, Joey thought, he'd have to play it too. "I'll tell," he said. "Don't!" Topher hissed, panic in his voice and face. "You can't never tell!" "Then let me play," Joey said. Joey didn't understand why they all still had their clothes on. Phil had emptied the crate and flipped it over. He was sitting on it while Bry and Topher shared a cigarette. He held the magazine on his lap. "Come here Joey," Phil said. The boy walked closer to the teen who reached out an arm and snagged the child. Joey let himself be pulled to perch on one of Phil's thighs. One of the teen's arms wrapped around his waist, and where the two large hands met in front of Joey, they held the magazine. "You looked at this?" Phil asked. Joey nodded. "And you wanna do what's in the pictures?" Joey nodded again, but a little slower. Phil opened the magazine and flipped a couple of pages. The pictures showed a man on his knees. On one page he was licking a penis. On the other the penis was in his mouth. "You wanna do that?" the teen asked. "I'll do it," Joey squeaked. He wasn't sure that he wanted to, merely that he would if that's what it took to be a big boy. The teen flipped a few more pages. On both pages the pictures, there were three, showed a man licking a butt hole. "That?" Joey didn't say anything. The pictures scared him now that he saw them again. The pages flipped before his eyes then stopped. One picture spread across both pages. A man's big penis was half in a butt hole. "You'll do that?" Phil breathed into his ear. Joey wanted to look away, but found that he couldn't. He knew his head was nodding, but it didn't seem to the boy like he controlled the nodding. He thought that he wanted to leave, but he wasn't leaving. 'Why aren't I leaving?' Joey thought. The blanket was spread on the floor. Joey couldn't remember that happening. He couldn't remember taking off his sneakers, socks, T-shirt, shorts and underwear, but he must have done it. He was bare naked and his clothes were piled beside him as he kneeled on the blanket. Topher was standing beside the blanket, bent at the waist, pulling his still sneakered feet out of the wad of his shorts and underwear. Joey watched his friend straighten up. Joey knew that Topher's penis wasn't like the ones in the magazine. He saw it all the time when they took baths. It wasn't big and it didn't have hairs around it. As Topher stepped to stand in front of Joey the boy's eyes widened slightly. Topher's penis was more like the penises than Joey had first noticed. It was hard. It was the first time Joey had ever seen it hard and it was definitely bigger that way. Joey glanced down at his own penis. It wasn't hard like Topher's. He wondered how come it was hard now. It stuck straight up, twitching, one blue vein raising a lump on the left side. Topher's hard penis was a little longer than one of Joey's own fingers the boy noticed. Joey lifted a hand and touched it lightly. He grasped it a little more firmly and pulled the tip down so that its one eye looked back at Joey's two. Joey smelled the familiar odor of his friend. He stared at the penis tip for a moment, trying to figure out if it looked like there was pee on it. "Well go on, suck him," he heard Bry say. Joey wished that no one was watching him do this. He had Topher's penis in his mouth. He sucked on it for a moment, then, remembering the pictures, took his mouth off of it to lick it, then sucked on it again. "Lick it some more," he heard Topher urge, so he did. "Man that's great!" Topher said. Joey smiled and licked harder. "Wait 'til you fuck him," Bry said. Topher bent over at the waist, reached back with his own hands, grabbed his butt and pulled. Joey couldn't look away. It was a butt hole, where the poop comes out. Where Topher's poop comes out. Joey thought that Topher's butt hole smelled like poop. Joey didn't think there was any poop on it. At least he couldn't see any. It was the first time he'd ever seen one close up. The first time he'd smelled one close up. He was intrigued by the color, a dusky red-brown with a little bit of bluish ring around it. He touched it with a fingertip. It was warm and dry. "Don't touch it, lick it," he heard Topher grunt. Joey wasn't ready to do that. He knew it was in the magazine and if he was going to play the magazine that he would do it. He touched it again, pressing harder, surprised to see the clenched ring of muscle give a little and his fingertip going into his friend's body. He jerked his finger back. "Make him do it," he heard Topher plead. "He'll do it when he's ready," Phil said. Joey nodded and reached out to poke at Topher's poop hole for a second time. Joey's mouth was open wide, locked into Topher's crack. That's what Phil told him to do. He made his tongue lash at the poop hole again and again and again. Topher was giggling. Topher said it tickled. Topher said don't stop. Joey thought it tasted a little bitter, like a lemon, but that wasn't quite it. He'd expected much worse. His tongue was tired. "Can I stop now," he asked. Joey grunted as Topher's penis pushed through his ring again. It didn't hurt this time at all. The pain wasn't ever too bad anyway. Joey, as he knelt on the blanket, had a difficult time understanding why it was happening. The seven-year-old understood that, for Topher, it felt good to have his penis in someone else's butt hole. But if it felt good on his penis, why did he keep jerking around, pulling his penis out and shoving it back in. "It came out again," he heard Topher whine from behind him. Joey already knew it had. He felt the older boy fumbling with his butt again, a thumb pulling his crack open, felt the plump little knob of Topher's penis press against him, slide into position and pop in. Joey grunted feeling the spike of Topher's penis shoot into him as Topher's stomach slapped hard against his upturned rump. "Come on, you're done," Joey heard Bry say. Joey twisted his head locating the young teen standing beside the blanket. Bry had his jeans and underwear off. One of the teen's hands slid back and forth on his penis. Joey saw the shine of the hand lotion. When Bry wiped his hand clean on his thigh, Joey's eyes widened. Bry's penis was like the ones in the magazine. It was big. It had hairs above it and on the sack that hung below it. "No I'm not," Joey heard Topher say. The boy could feel his friend doing the hunching thing again. 'Why does he do that,' Joey though to himself as, once again Joey felt the knobby head of the small penis yank his ring open and his butt hole close ejecting Topher's penis. "Shit!" Topher said. Joey felt his rump being pried open again. Joey was gonna play the magazine and Topher would know he was a big boy and he wouldn't leave Joey alone anymore. Bry's penis would go in, Joey decided. He lay on his side on the blanket, sweating. Bry lay behind him. The teen's greasy penis was big enough that Joey could feel it spreading his butt crack. The spongy head was in the right place, Joey knew. He'd guided it there himself, and now held it in position with one hand by reaching between his legs. Joey took a deep breath, braced and pushed himself back with all the force he could muster. His butt hole stretched, the knob of Bry's penis halfway in, and the pain returned. It was a point Joey'd reached before. 'Not this time,' he thought, meaning that he wouldn't give up again. The seven-year-old bit his lower lip and pushed hard. His eyes shot wide as he felt his ring snap down onto the shaft of Bry's penis. The head part was in and it hurt! Joey gasped and twisted, losing his grip on Bry's penis. Afraid he would cry and ruin everything, Joey turned his head into the blanket. "Aw, fuck!" he heard Bry grunt behind him. The teen held Joey in place with one hand grasping the boy's stomach. Joey heard the whine escaping from his own throat as Bry's penis pushed up into his small body. The boy snapped his mouth shut, muting but not stifling the sound. 'Don't cry!' his brain screamed. 'Just don't cry!' Joey didn't cry. He didn't cry when he felt the pain deep in his stomach as Bry's penis got all the way inside his poop hole, way up. He didn't cry when Bry's grip on his stomach tightened and squeezed him painfully. Joey didn't cry when, after Bry had pulled most of his penis out, he pushed it back in. And Joey didn't cry after a whole minute of slow, deliberate in and out, Bry rolled him over face down on the blanket, laid upon him and thrust into his little butt fast and deep. He might have cried if it had lasted any longer than fifteen seconds. It hadn't. And as Joey lay hot, sweaty and gasping under the weight of Bry's equally hot, sweaty and gasping body, the pain in his rump faded. Joey eventually realized that Bry's penis wasn't big anymore. Shortly after, the boy felt his butt hole contract like he was pooping. A faint slurping noise accompanied the contraction of his butt hole that ejected Bry's no longer hard penis. Joey felt it, wet and slimy, between his legs for only a moment. Bry got off of him, rolling to Joey's side on the blanket. "You okay?" he heard the teen ask. Bry was stroking his sweaty back. Without lifting his head, Joey nodded. He felt hands grasp his ankles and pull his legs apart. After the struggle with Bry, Phil's penis had gone into Joey's body with relative ease; at least for Phil if not Joey. With Bry Joey hadn't been pinned immobile to the blanket, as Phil had held him. And where Joey had done the hard part for Bry, getting the knob in, Phil had used his powerful lower body, thrusting just once to slam his much fatter knob forcefully through the painfully yielding ring of Joey's little anus. Now, as the thick sixteen-year-old penis rammed through his heavily lubricated, gaping, leaking and aching butt hole, Joey bit hard on the wad of mildewed blanket he'd shoved into his mouth. With intense effort, the seven-year-old willed himself not to cry. His eyes were screwed shut, his arms out to the side, his fists clenching more of the blanket. Joey's mind refused to focus. Mostly, he thought about the pain from his rump; but the sweat pooling on his back, trickling down his neck, the sides of his chest and stomach, and running into his tightly closed eyes both tickled and stung. 'It's like spanking,' he thought, feeling and hearing Phil's stomach slap rhythmically against his upturned rump. And then there was definitely something coming out of his butt hole. Joey knew that it couldn't be poop; it was hot slimy liquid running in the crack between his splayed legs. 'If it just didn't hurt so bad,' Joey thought, now aware that the wad of blanket in his mouth was wet with his saliva. Joey spit out the wad of towel and panted. Phil did it to him real hard and fast. The blanket below him muted Joey's whine of agony. "Oh, yeah," Phil grunted loudly as he stopped thrusting and pushed Joey hard into the blanket. Phil was now lying mostly still, breathing in heavy gasps and twitching. Joey felt more stuff ooze from his stretched hole. He wondered, first, if Phil could feel it too and then wondered why the teen wasn't grossed out. Unlike Bry, Phil laid on Joey, his penis softer but firmly lodged in the boy's little rump. Joey tried to wriggle out, but the older Homesteader was just too heavy. Eventually, Phil responded, rising up and pulling his penis from Joey's body with a slurp. Joey felt both the odd sensation of his hole gaping open and the gush of liquid from it. As he rolled over to sit up, Joey's guts tightened painfully. Joey looked away from the three older boys standing around him naked from the waist down, not wanting them to see the pain he knew was evident in his face. "Hey, you okay?" Phil crouched beside him, one hand on Joey's shoulder. Joey nodded violently, not looking at the teen and biting his lip. His stomach hurt. "We're done," Phil said. "Get dressed." Dressing had been hard, and getting down the ladder even harder. Joey had almost passed out, the barn momentarily going black as he'd wavered on the ladder. Still, there was one thing he could smile about. Before Joey'd dressed, Phil had made Topher take off his T-shirt and use it to swab Joey's butt hole and legs clean of the brownish-gray slime that dripped from his backside. The liquid had puzzled Joey for only a short time. The boy could smell that some of it was hand lotion, and it smelled like poop some too. Yet the liquid had a texture to it that wasn't poop and wasn't lotion. Eventually Joey realized that it had to be white stuff from penises and wondered why it was inside him instead of on his butt or face like in the magazine. For Joey, things changed dramatically. The following day it had hurt too much to even get Topher's small penis into his bruised and distended anus. Joey had watched as his best friend took his turn on the blanket. Topher had cried. Though Joey felt some sympathy for his friend - knowing just how painful getting fucked could be - he refused to defend Topher when the Homesteaders called his friend a 'cry baby'. Just days before Topher had stood silent while Joey was mocked, and so the seven-year-old simply smiled cruelly at his sobbing friend. The next day Topher had not come to the barn. Joey learned that he could eat cum. Within a week Joey's hole was healed enough for a second fucking. Topher still hadn't been to the barn for days, and at first, the seven-year-old was simply unable to get Bry's penis inside him, until it occurred to the boy that he needed Topher's small penis to open him up. Phil thought that a finger might work. The Homesteaders were more than willing to stab his little hole and loosen him up. Joey learned that it's what you did with a girl, anyway, so Phil and Bry would be fingering a girl if they could get a girl, which Phil and Bry would do if they could. He'd been disappointed to learn that he was merely a stand-in. The disappointment faded when, with Topher out of the way, the Homesteaders took him fishing, fixed up their old go-cart - even breaking the welds on the seat and re-welding it to fit him, taught him to swim at the pool in town, let him ride between them in the car to get malts at the drive-in, and treated at the carnival where he went on all the rides. Topher had to get a new best friend, which was just fine with Joey. Being best friends with a guy who could drive a car was way better than being best friends with Topher. When they added kissing to the act, the teens heartily enjoyed getting Joey ready for fucking, spending a half-hour or more passing him back and forth to French a squirming Joey while prodding his little backside. On more than one occasion, Joey had to draw the kissing to a close so they could get to the fucking. It took several years for Joey to really enjoy getting fucked. The boy took immense pleasure in the act from the second time on. At first, the knowledge that he could do something that an older boy couldn't sustained him. Later, knowing that the thing in his shit-chute was somebody's hard dick, and a dick made hard by his charms, tickled him. There came a time when it dawned on Joey that Phil and Bry liked him, indeed loved him, for enduring the sometimes painfully clumsy act. The pleasure became physical shortly before his eleventh birthday, shortly after Bry had started sucking Joey's little dick, and occurred quite suddenly and violently as Joey lay spiked, sandwiched between Bry's sucking lips and Phil's thrusting hips. Seeing Joey's obvious enjoyment Phil and Bry tried fucking each other shortly after, found they liked it, and Joey had to sometimes argue with the brothers before they'd plug his willing hole. As he grew, Joey learned more about boys and girls as friends at school first talked about the opposite sex, then got crushes, then started dating. Just shy of thirteen, Joey discovered with shock just how easy it was to 'get a girl' when a classmate cornered him at a dance and made him put his hand into her panties while they kissed behind the gym bleachers. Phil and Bry just weren't trying very hard, Joey realized. Joe threw in the clutch, shifted to neutral and braked the tractor. Now fourteen he was responsible for the summer chores previously performed by hired hands. Reaching down, he disengaged the drive to the spreader and watched the blades spin to a stop. He needed to get done. Phil was picking him up at seven-thirty. Bry was out of the army and back in town. The teen pushed the seed-company hat up and stared vacantly over the farm for a moment. A flash of color caught his eye. Glancing quickly he saw the scrap of colored paper tumble in the grass of the fallow field and out of sight beyond the tractor's rear tire. Not being eager to return to the barn and shovel shit, Joe clambered down. It was only a scrap, but Joe recognized it, the letters 'utt F' legible and part of a man's chest in a white T-shirt. Joe laughed to himself, crumpled the paper and threw it to the ground. 'Only doing this until I get a girl,' he thought to himself as he climbed back up to the seat. Phil was picking him up at seven-thirty. Bry was back in town. Joe smiled as he shifted into first.