The Young Stepfather Part 2
by Tim Thomasson
timthommass@yahoo.com

copyright 2006 by Tim Thomasson, all rights reserved 

* * * * *
This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY.  It contains
explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If
you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such
material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not
read further, and do not save this story.
* * * * *

Slowly, opening his eyes, as if waking from a dream state,
Dale lets his gaze fall onto Jerry. The calmness, the
serenity of Dale's expression has Jerry off guard, and
shaking in fear. Jerry knows his stepfather well enough to
know that his plea was crossing the line. Just as he knows
for his stepfather to look this peaceful means he had every
right, and reason, to be scared.   Looking to his left, Dale
smiles at Linda. How peaceful she looks. So unlike the woman
he had first met. The woman who used to get etched lines of
worry across her face every time one of the boys was to be
punished. Now she was all but above the fray. Hands crossed,
laying on her lap, looking as prim and proper, yet
undisturbed, as a judge at a flower show. Dale knew better.  
 His focus back on Jerry, Dale's eyes become hooded, his
pupils grow smaller, becoming darker, a sneer of a smile
tries to form, then races away. Even his speech sounds
ominous, for the slower Dale speaks the more sinister his
voice becomes. Such as his slow rasp when asking Jerry,
"Boy, were you given permission to speak?" Jerry hangs his
head and shakes it no. Twice. "Boy, You look at me when I am
speaking to you!" Jerry's top teeth are covering his bottom
lip as he looks up, then into his stepfather's eyes. Then
shakes his head no, again.   The sneer that had raced away
is back. Nothing resembles joy, in Dale's mind, as much as
one of his boys being submissive to his will. "Jerry?" and
the hidden lilt, the shadow of forewarning is caught by one
and all, "What is your position within this house?" Gulping,
as if daring to speak, Jerry, in a small voice that crackles
with emotion, softly says, "I am a boy. Sir."   "That's
right! Something you seem to have forgotten. Well boy, since
you have gotten too big for your britches I guess you had
better finish taking them off. Seems a little resizing is
called for." It is more a bark than a chuckle, but it is
obvious Dale found wit in his saying, even if Jerry didn't.
Anymore than Stephen did when being told, "That goes for you
as well."

All but closing his eyes again, Dale is aware of just how
disturbing it is to the boys that he seemingly goes in and
out of a trance at these times. This very fact just adds a
twist to the small snatches of memories he is seeing. The
past and present over lapping one another, accenting his
emotions until he feels as taunt as an over stretched wire.
Power and dominance dancing together in the dark until he
feels ready to jump out of skin. Screeching in ecstasy.

"Was it only a year ago?" Dale is asking himself as he slips
back into the past. A small gurgle of amusement gets caught
in his throat, creating a sound that is unearthly in pitch.
He laughs out loud at the sound. Shutting his eyes, Dale
ignores the boys as they slowly shed their clothes, but not
before seeing the hint of glee appearing on one his sons.
Catching his eye, he curls one corner of his mouth upward in
approval, then slips back a year. 

As is always the case when one or more of the boys are
undressing in public, the room takes on the sounds one
expects to hear on an especially gloomy night. Small creaks
as chairs are shuffled forward, a groan as wood streches, as
one of the younger boys has leaned onto the two front legs.
The quiet shuffle of fabric as legs are crossed, then
uncrossed. These sounds are broken, starkly, by a dry cough
as someone clears their throat. It is only when both boys
have finished undressing, only when both are naked and at
attention, that the mood changes. Broken by Mikey's happy
chirp of, "Look mom. Steven has hair!"

Flushing brightly, Stephen looks down as if to confirm this
fact for himself. Being almost twelve and in the throes of
puberty, this is a fact. Where just last month he been a few
sparse hairs, he now has blotches of light brown hair here
and there. Patches of hair that are quickly filling in what
skin is showing. Stephen feels a sudden bolt of shame and
blushes deeper, all as his knees fold into one another. Only
fear and training keep the boy in place. Even so the breads
of sweat on his forehead are a dead give away to his inner
feelings. Not that the younger boys care. His shame is
nothing but fodder for their game. Bradly is the leader of
the younger boys and as such it is he who always pipes up
first, such as tonight when asking, "Daddy? How come
Stephen's dick is so much smaller than Jerry's?"

The titillation of childish laughter is accented by the dry
chuckle of their mother's voice. A wheeze of a sound that
cackles like dry leaves be bunched into a ball. Her memories
of the boys father's are as sudden as they are cruel and
vivid. And the self knowledge that Stephen isn't abnormal,
as much as Jerry is like his biological father, does nothing
to ease the old hurts that had flared up at their memory. It
is with a smile of an Ice Princess that she nods her
approval as Dale gleefully remarks, "Why yes. Stephen does
seem small. Does he not?" 

Noticing the glee in the younger boys eyes Dale smiles a
slow, softer smile. One that eases the tension in his face,
creating a face that looks almost too young, and innocent.
Only twenty three Dale needs two picture ID's to buy liquor,
but when happy, as he is now, his face glowing, he looks
like a teenage cherub. Beaming, Dale asks the younger boys
to come closer. All do, the youngest three all but skipping
forward. Sure that something terribly fun and amusing is
about to happen. To them, this is but a play being produced
and performed for their entertainment.

With the younger boys now in a tight semi-circle surrounding
them, Dale reaches out and with each hand grabs a dick.
Laughing at the sudden high sequel coming from Stephen, and
smirking at the deep gasp from Jerry. Ignoring both, and
their dicks in his hand, he directs them forward until they
are standing at a angle to one another. Jerry's left hip
touching Stephen's right. Forced so tightly together, they
are all but gyrating into one another as they shake. This
sight is enough to bring the sneer back to Dale's face.
Until Tommy, who is the youngest and shortest, and therefore
has a unique view, loudly proclaims, "Lookie! Their pee-pees
are waving at one another!" Dale lets out with a loud snort.
A snort that becomes laughter as Tommy continues blithely
on, breathless telling one and all, "Oh gross! It looks like
there pee-pees are trying to kiss!" Dale can't hold it in.
He is laughing. Loudly. Indeed, the angle of the boy's dicks
as they shake leaves them this close to touching, tip to
tip.

Done laughing, Dale's mood changed. His stern voice, so soon
after his burst of laughter, brings a hush to the room. His
words a fresh flush of shame to the boys faces. He has just
told the younger boys he wants them to feel their brother's
dicks. To compare for themselves the difference in size.
Then glaring at Jerry and Stephen as if he can read their
minds. As if he can hear their unspoken words of protest. As
if daring them to verbalize it. Neither boy does. 

Dale's mood shifts yet again, so calm now that he is
teaching, as he sees it, the younger children. Explaining to
them how their dicks shall also change with time. Combine
age, puberty and a normal growth pattern and some day, in
the future, this too shall be them. The littlest ones titter
in protest. Bradley, his mouth drawn up tightly, as if in
deep thought, then asks a question, "But daddy? Kevin is
older than me, yet he isn't much bigger, so why is Stephen
so much smaller than Jerry?" At first Dale is silent, then,
catching Kevin trying to slink into the background, afraid
that the mention of his name will draw him into the fray,
Dale all but claps his hands together with pleasure. How
satisfying it is, or so Dale is thinking, to come up with
the perfect answer. Much less one that is bound to be so
entertaining. Then, with one crook of his finger, motions
Kevin forward.

Kevin knew what was coming, even so, there is a tear in his
eye as he strips his clothes off. Nine, almost ten, Kevin
has just entered that phase of life where he doesn't want to
be seen naked -- by anyone. A phase that he wears like a
shawl to protect him, invisible, except to the eyes of one
like Dale. Who can sense a boys distress a mile away, much
like a wolf smells injured prey across the winters tundra.
Dale grins as Kevin pulls his underwear off. So much drama
for so little show. Kevin is as bare as any newborn, with a
boys packaging, all of this, yet with an adult sense of
propriety. How 'cute' that one with nothing to hide could be
so embarrassed by showing it. For the longest moment Dale
says nothing, relishing the show of the shaking boy, before
all but whispering to the younger children that it was
alright to go ahead and touch Kevin, then Jerry and Stephen
again. Go ahead, compare the differences.

Like kids in a toy shop, this is the younger children as
they first hold, then stroke, then stretch each boys dick.
Giggles as they explore. Loud sounds of exclamations as they
compare. Laughter as their brothers squirm and turn colors.
Laughter becoming squeals as both Kevin, and then Stephen,
grow in size. Dale and Linda catch one another's eyes, then
sigh with fake shrugs, as if over indulgent parents ignoring
their children's antics. Allowing the fun and games of the
younger children to continue until their pitch is all but
out of control. Only then does Dale stop them. Leaning back
Dale is all but enchanted by the way all three boys are
still squirming and changing colors, even after the play of
small hands upon their privates has stopped.

Once the room is quiet, and Dale has explained normal growth
patterns, how they will all go from being Kevin to Stephen
to Jerry, Dale is content to let the silence stretch. How he
loves these moments. The build up of tension before he drops
a new bomb shell. To Dale, this is a test of character. To
see how long he can hold out before his new idea so
overcomes him that he is forced to react. Finally Dale sits
up straight, surprising one and all by leaning forward and
speaking to Bradley. Pretending to be contrite, playing at
being the concerned father, Dale says, "But I never have
completely answered your question. Now have I have Bradley?"
Not sure of what his father is referring to, Bradley still
knows enough to answer with a sincere, "No sir."

Looking into space Dale counts off a slow, one, and a two,
and a three in his head before darkly intoning, "Yes. That
is a good question. How come Stephen is smaller. Is he not
growing? Is Jerry growing to quickly. How can we answer
these questions?" Dale tries to keep his lips tight, sealed,
as if to keep his answer a secret as long as he can. Lips
that no are no longer sneering, but are held tightly
together, creating a crack in his face, and Dale looks like
a piece of pottery that has been badly glued back together.
Holding onto this look while intoning, "The only thing I can
think of.....is to start measuring your brothers" leaves all
in the room opened mouth, and eerily quiet. Lost in their
own thoughts. Or afraid to speak. Even Linda is a
motionless, unless you catch the dance in her eyes. Dale
does. And grins.

It is Linda who breaks the silence. Unusual that she speaks
when Dale has the floor, so this alone causes every eye to
turn to her. More unusual is her distant tone, as if she is
speaking from a great distance. Worse yet is what she is
saying. Add it all together and to the boys her words sound
like the hiss of a whip being flung in the air. Linda has
just stated her approval. Worse yet, she has claimed from
Dale the right to be the one who measures. After all, she
has stated, she is their mother, and as such it is her duty
to guard the boys health. The distance in her voice changing
into a soft purr as she speaks her thoughts aloud. As if
trying them on for size. All the while looking at Dale out
of the corner of her eye for approval. A feeling of security
drapes her. Dale is looking at her with more than just love.
Maybe lust.

Lust that is becoming an inferno as they banter back and
forth. Such as when Linda slyly coos, "Dear, I do have a
question though." Then draws out the question so that both
may look at one another while still gauging the boys
reactions. "Do I need to measure them erect, or limp?" A
unheard sigh of pleasure escapes Dale lips. Is it the
wickedness of his wife's thoughts or the way the boys all
are but crumbling before his very eyes, Dale doesn't know,
or care. All he knows is that tonight, it will be a while
before either boy is put over his knee. It goes against his
own code of conduct to have an erection when spanking them.
And the one he has just sprung, is a monster.

A monster that grows until he is hurting, ready to get on
his hands and knees and crawl to his wife and beg for mercy,
and more. Linda, her voice so feminine and soft, has just
suggested that they should mark the boys growth on the back
of the kitchen door, along with their height. This is a
natural, if unused talent of Linda's, she is fantastic
artist. A talent she is suggesting she put to use by drawing
a life sized picture of each of the boys, showing them limp,
and then with an erection. A ledger of sorts that be can
used for decades to come as their family grows. Dale can
feel his mouth moving, but no words are coming out. No one
notices, not even the boys, who are soundless crying.

Shuffling in his seat, Dale can feel his memory fading, the
reality of the moment trying to reassert itself, but he is
not ready, not yet anyway. Clamping his eyes shut he races
to later that night. 

Oh how the boys had cried when being spanked that night. The
pain of the spanking, that was no worse than normal. However
they knew that the deal had been sealed. What they didn't
know was to what extent, and in this house, the unknown is a
truly fearful beast. One worthy of tears. Snarling to
himself, Dale is thinking that the boys should have saved
some of their tears for later. Now that, that is a memory.

Serene, this is Dale as he remembers the rest of that night.
How they had to lead the naked boys, by the hand, into the
kitchen and line them up, one by one, against the door. How
small and scared they looked. Such a contrast to the laughs,
even whistles, coming from the younger children as they
pranced around their brothers in excitement. It is possible
that Linda and he knew, even in advance, that they couldn't
paint pictures of the boys in an excited state in such a
public space. Still, what a blast it was to watch the boys,
who were sure this is exactly what was about to happen.
Large tears, mouths that couldn't stop moving, bodies that
were trembling so hard even Kevin's little dick was
swinging. Like drinking nectar. It was that sweet.

Not that the end wasn't half bad in and of itself. Claiming
their wasn't enough room to do justice to all three boys,
much less to add the other children once they got older,
Linda left the room, then came back in with an artist sketch
book so large it required a stand. A glint in her eye, she
tells Dale, "This will work better." Then answers his look
by stating, "This way, I can draw a new picture of the boys
each and every month. Then create individual scrap books in
which to keep them in." Dale places his hand on Linda's
shoulder, then leans down to kiss his wife on her head, all
the while proudly proclaiming this is a wonderful idea.

Jerry went first. Linda had her oldest stand in front of the
kitchen door, which acted as her back stop, facing her.
Shooing the children away, saying, "Mommy needs to
concentrate." everyone was confused as to just what Linda
was doing. Dale thought maybe she was being a perfectionist,
or that he had misjudged her talent, but Linda kept
switching pages back and forth, flipping from the front
page, to the second page, and then back again, then, of all
things, to a third. A few minutes later she had Jerry turn
to the side, a few minutes after that, turn until his back
was to the room, then one more turn until he was at the
opposite side. Finishing only when the naked boy is again
facing the room.

Closing the book Linda stands up and stretches her arms out,
then wiggles her hands as if to get rid of a cramp, before
walking towards Jerry. Walking towards her son with a
singleness of purpose that literally curls his toes. Toes
that spread and lift skywards as without a word of warning
his mother placed her hand on his thirteen year old dick and
squeezes. Quietly, all but under her breath, whispering that
she checking to see how thick he is. Jerry is turning a new
shade of red. The boy is so embarrassed that for the moment,
he has forgotten to breathe. This all changes when Linda
releases her grip, then with a gentle touch, lays Jerry's
dick on her palm, letting in hang onto her middle finger, a
rough measurement that for tonight, works. The "Mommy." that
Jerry gasps in protest is so deep, so thick, that he sounds
ten years older, as old as Dale. It is a sound, to Dale's
ears, he has only heard before in his dreams. A sound only
matched by the chattering of horror the boy uttered when
Linda told him, "Ok Jerry. Mommy now needs you to get
erect."

Jerry gasps in protest. A protest that had he been given the
time, Dale would have reacted to, harshly. Tonight however,
there is no need. Linda is in a zone, a wall of emotions has
burst and for the first time in her boys life she is taking
control. There is more than a trace of steel in her tone as
she latches onto Jerry's eyes and states, "Young man! Do you
need to be told a second time?" The "No Mommy" the boy is
croaking out is more murmured than spoken. Jerry's horror,
his utter disbelief at her next command is so great it is
greeted not with words, but syllables of sounds, accented by
tremors that are threatening to shake him apart, from the
inside, out. Linda has just informed him that as long as
they are checking, she wants him to continue until he cums.
"Let's make sure you can. Shall we?" 

Dale is this close to hyperventilating. For years he had
looked for a way to humiliate the boys sexually, and in one
fleeting moment Linda has topped anything he had ever
dreamed of. The other two boys look almost as stricken as
Jerry. All of this and the high pitched sounds as the
younger children, who picking up on the drama, keep asking,
then pleading in higher and higher wails, "Mommy? Daddy?
What does cum mean?" It is all Dale can do to keep from
throwing his hands down his pants and jerk off himself.
Instead, through a will he never knew he had, he drops to
one knee and looks the youngest children in the eye, saying,
"See where Jerry's hand is? Watch and see what happens to
your brother's pee-pee after he plays with it for a few
minutes!" 

If silence is golden, then this moment is beyond
calculation. With a fresh tears dropping, Jerry moves his
hand down until with a graze of his fingertips, he locates
his dick. Afraid to look away, to scared to close his eyes,
Jerry tries to hide inside his mind. Only there is no way to
hide when you are thirteen and your dick is in your hand.
Touching himself, ever so gently, with just his forefinger
and thumb, Jerry's first move is to stretch his dick
outward, away from his body, as if pointing it at the
family. His second move is to bring his dick back towards
himself, before again, moving it outwards. A few movements
later and children's eyes are wide. Already Jerry's dick is
growing, changing shape.

Licking one lips must be a family trait, or so it seems. Not
only is Jerry doing so, both Linda and Dale are as well.
Jerry's dick is now engorged and pointing out, the natural
size of his equipment, in this state, requires that the boy
now use his entire hand to stroke himself. Opening his fist,
surrounding his length, he slowly moves his hand up, then
down. His movements are hypnotic, be it the slow stroke of
his hand, or the shimmer to his body. Jerry's face is beyond
recognition as deep emotions crest, then fall. Utter
humiliation in his eyes, a glow of physical heat on his
cheeks, lips that are quivering, a face that is glistening,
with his head tilted back, leaving his mouth open to gulp
for air.    The small sound the boy makes causes Dale to
shiver, and groan internally. Jerry's rasp is a marking
point, the boy's dick is no longer pointing out, but up,
straight up. Erect, hard, now pulsating with a rhythm, a
life of it's own. Swaying slightly as it continues to climb
higher and higher. Linda is still holding her pen's in her
hand, but they are forgotten. The sight of her son's young
dick, engorged and throbbing, so large that it appears to
dwarf the rest of him, has left her in a daze. So red, so
angry in coloration is the head of the Jerry's dick that the
younger children are uncomfortable, then break the silence
in backward jumps, highlighted by fear, as Jerry suddenly
growls from deep in his chest.

One more furious pump, then another, and Jerry releases a
sound that is all man, followed, all but instantaneously, by
a soft, feverish pitch that is wildly high. Like a crystal
glass being gently pinged, once. Then, the boy's sounds
become a gurgle of ahhs, then a sudden giant intake of
breath and the boy shivers, and screams, a scream so soft
you have to be listening to hear it. Dale and Linda are, and
find themselves shaking in relief, and release. A release
that is timed, perfectly, to the sudden gush of milky white
fluid flowing from their son. Flowing like a volcano that
has blown it's top. Spewing in all directions as the boy's
dick quivers back and forth and then side to side, as if
trying to draw a circle. Spewing white hot liquid so high
into the air it is not only falling to the left and the
right, it is falling back onto Jerry. White specks litter
not only his body, they are even in his hair.

Jerry's eyes are now closed, he can't help it, anymore than
he can help the small prance he is preforming as his body
continues to talk to him, as if refusing to let go of this
high without a fight. One small whoosh of a breath, followed
by one last spasm, and Jerry grows still. 

Linda is ignoring the explosion of sound around her. The
million questions being fired at her by the children, even
the husk of an order coming from Dale as he angrily tells
Jerry to get over to the sink and grab the towel and clean
his mess up, now, are voices that she choices to ignore.
None of this matters to her, for the moment. In her mind she
has captured the moment. A moment that is so defining no one
has ever captured it on canvas before, only in film. A
medium which, in her mind, lacks the ability to show true
depth and feeling. Red pens, blue pens, creams and pinks,
she is using every color within her reach. Only when she has
the rough copies done does she stop. Placing the pens down
she pips up with a 'urp' of glee and asks Dale to come and
look for himself.

Seeing page one, Dale is soundless. Turning to page two,
Dale is stunned, and it shows. Reaching page three, Dale
himself looks teary. Dale engulfs his wife and whispers into
her ear that she is a genius. Whispers with a voice that
bespeaks awe, a voice Linda has waited her entire life to
hear. She fights away a tear of joy, then orders Jerry to
come here, in a tone that is almost unreadable, if not for
her underpinnings of pride and joy.

  
TYS_2_The_Young_Stepfather_part_2