The Treehouse

by

Alfonso

alfonso82@hotmail.com


On a hot sultry, afternoon in late spring. Billy sipped lemonade on the back porch. The air smelled of honeysuckle and Billy breathed it in lustfully. His large, sneakered feet crossed on top of the whitewashed railing, the laces loose as if too exhausted to stay tied. Only the sound of cicadas screeching or an occasional sparrow chirp disturbed the still air.

Billy relished the silence. His parents had gone to visit Uncle Vern whom Billy or his older brother Lyle both loved, though they found him hard to take at times (largely because their uncle, who owned and managed a popular gym, was in the habit of lecturing the boys on diet and exercise. Though he had once been a competition bodybuilder and still possessed a handsome face and impressive physique, Uncle Vern could be a real "pain in the ass" as Lyle put it.) But, as Billy's mother often said, Uncle Vern, "meant well", (Billy and Lyle both knew that meant that their uncle had been generous to their family in his will) and so their mother felt obliged to visit her only living brother periodically. Lyle would be graduating with honors from high school in June and attending Tulaine University in the fall. Because of his new found status, Lyle was entrusted with the care of his younger brother for the day.

But Lyle was not home. The tall, muscular blonde was probably out at the mall cruising for chicks, or so Billy thought. At 18, Billy still worshipped his handsome brother. He felt left out when Lyle chose to hang out with close friends rather than his own brother. Lyle even formed a kind of secret club, which met in the old treehouse.

Their father had built the treehouse on the lower branches of the old oak tree when his sons were in grade school. He made it large and roomy, so that they would stay in the treehouse for hours and, hopefully, out of trouble. When Lyle and Billy entered adolescence, the tree house went unused. Until Lyle entered high school. In less than a month, Lyle and his friends had painted, repaired, and even expanded the place a little by adding another room. They had put so much work into it that it became Lyle's property. So when the older brother and his friends forbade Billy from using it, Mom and Dad supported Lyle. Billy was told, gently but firmly, to simply find his own chums and perhaps even make their own treehouse.

But Billy had few friends. He often spent hours in his room, listening to Judas Priest or Sisters of Mercy. Sometimes, Billy spied on Lyle and his friends stretched out on the green carpeted floor of the treehouse, shirtless and barefoot. But within minutes one of them, usually Lyle, would draw the faded white shades. Billy suspected that they were getting stoned; the sustained laughter would get pretty loud at times.

"Hi, Squirt!"

Billy turned his head with a start. Lyle stood behind him, a big grin on his manly face. He was barechested, his dirty t-shirt hanging out his back pocket like a dead animal, hands hooked in the empty belt loops of his Levis

"Where the hell have you been?" Billy asked, trying to hide the anger and hurt in his voice.

"Oh...just making plans."

"Plans? What for?"

Lyle laughed, "That's for me to know and you to find out, boy..."

"Who you calling BOY!" Billy snarled.

"You, Squirt."

"Don't call me that!"

"What're you gonna do to stop me?"

Lyle lunged at his brother and pulled him out of the chair. Billy yelled and try to pull away, but Lyle was too strong. They rolled on the back porch, a writhing ball of arms and legs. Lyle fingers began doing their dirty work. . . all over his brother's ribs.

"Oh no! Noooooooooo!" Billy yelled. Then laughter poured out of him in a torrent.

"Aw, you poor ticklish little baby!" Lyle said, his powerful hands leaping into Billy's shirt.

Billy screamed, he knew what was coming next. In a flash, his arms were pinned over his head on to the rough floor of the porch. Lyle held them down at the wrists. He sat on top of Billy's pelvis and held up his right hand like a claw. He grinned wickedly as his hand made it's slow descent.

"Don't! Please!" Billy pleaded.

But Billy knew that his brother could not be stopped. Lyle's hand poised over Billy's abdomen.

Billy bucked and begged, though he knew it was useless. Now Lyle's hand was once again under his victim's shirt.

"I'm going to tickle your belly button, baby brother," Lyle whispered. "and there ain't a damn thing you can do about it."

Lyle's forefinger gently stroked the delicate downy flesh around Billy's navel. The brother giggled. When Lyle's finger finally made it to its destination, Billy was laughing uncontrollably.

"Oh shit! Not there! Not there! Hahahahahahahahahaha! Stop! Hahahahaha! Oh God! Nooooooo! Aaaggghhhhhhhhh! Hahahahahaha!"

But Lyle kept right on going, an evil smile on his face, speeding up the action when Billy's laughter started to wane.

"God damn! Hahahahahaha! I'll do anything! Just stop! Hahahahahaha! STOP!"

"Anything?" Lyle asked.

"Hahahahahahaha! Yes! YES! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!," Billy screamed, his voice hoarse from all the forced laughter.

Lyle let go of Billy's arms. He got up quietly.

Billy lay perfectly still, curled up and arms folded in tight in front of his waist. The porch door slammed. The air was so still, Billy could hear then sound of Lyle's fingers pushing the buttons of the phone. The thick curtains muffled Lyle's voice, but not his laugh. Billy trembled.

Blindfolded by Lyle's dirty t-shirt, Billy was led out to the back yard by Lyle. Billy's wrists already began to chafe a bit from the tight rawhide Lyle used to tie them together. An old dog collar surrounded the captive's neck as his brother led him to the tree. Billy dug his heels into the ground.

"N...No," he stammered.

"No!" Lyle laughed. "You've wanted to check out my club and the new treehouse for a long time, man. You mean to tell me you're going to let a golden chance like this slip through your little fingers?"

"What's this 'bout your club?", Billy asked, trying to sound cool.

"What do you think I made the phone call for? Why do you think I'm putting you through this now? You're going to be initiated, baby brother." Lyle said, a hint of pride in his voice. Or so Billy hoped.

"But you and your friends are going off to college, anyway. I'm going to be the only one in the club!"

"You'll be the first new initiate. But not the last. My friends have little brothers too."

Lyle slapped Billy hard on the butt.

"Get moving, Squirt!"

"But I can't see!"

"Move!" Lyle yelled.

Billy ran head on into the treehouse ladder. Lyle laughed as he hooked the leash on to the dog collar.

"Let me lead you up, Woof-Woof." Lyle said.

The collar pulled tightly around Billy's neck. He heard his brother's steps as he climbed the ladder. Billy's hand grasped the smooth rungs, his ears ringing with Lyle's taunts. Every time Billy fumbled, lost his footing, or just hesitated for a second Lyle would snicker and pull the leash even more strongly.

Billy heard his older brother open the door of the treehouse and step inside. Even a few feet away, the captive could feel the cool air of the house, the faint smell of old sweat and another odor. Billy sniffed harder, refusing to believe.

Leather!

Billy's hands finally grasped the floorboard. Lyle pulled his brother up roughly, slamming the door behind him.

"Take your clothes off," Lyle said. "But leave the blindfold on."

Billy followed his brother's command. As he removed his t-shirt, Billy's head began to swim. His body began to shake a little and he swayed. He felt a firm slap on his butt.

"Get it together, little brother. It's a little early to feel faint. Plenty of time for that later."

Silently, Billy took off the rest of his clothes. His cock began to rise a little. Lyle's index finger teased the tip, drawing a circle around the circumcised head.

"This is going to be fun," he said.

Lyle's large hand grasped his brother's cook and balls. Billy let out a groan as he was led to a special part of the room. The smell of leather grew stronger.

"Stop now," Lyle said.

Billy obeyed. Though the air was cool and still, Billy's flesh erupted in goosebumps. Lyle stroked the sensitive place behind his brothers balls.

"Oh, God! Don't! Hahahahaha!" Billy shook with laughter, his hard cock drawing circles in the air as Lyle kept up the cruel stroking. Then, as suddenly as he began, Lyle stopped.

"Step back," Lyle said, guiding Billy by the shoulders.

Billy felt something cold and yielding. It felt like a hammock, but the smell and feel told him that it was made of leather. Lyle pulled Billy's arms up and whipped off the rawhide. Billy began to tremble as he felt the padded bonds tighten around one wrist, then another. Lyle lifted Billy's left leg and wrapped a bond around the ankle. After his right leg was bound, a trickle of sweat crawled down Bill's forehead down to his quivering lips.

"Maybe, "Billy said. "Maybe we should do this some other time..."

Lyle laughed. "Couldn't put it off even if I wanted to. I wouldn't want to disappoint the gang."

Billy pulled on the bonds; he was tied securely enough to keep him strongly in place, but loosely enough to squirm. His legs were spread wide and upraised, he knew his crotch and asshole must be in plain sight. Billy blushed.

Lyle smiled and said, "You should see yourself, wimp. In fact, I think I'll let you do just that."

Lyle tore off the blindfold. The light hurt Billy's blue eyes and he squinted. Against the wall, five feet away, stood a full length mirror. Strapped tightly to a leather sling, its shiny chains making sharp squeaking noises as he squirmed, Billy turned his reddened face to Lyle.

"L...let me go man." Billy said. "Pl . . . please."

Lyle threw back his head. As his brother's laughter pounded his ears, Billy felt a warmth in his loins. His cock began to rise, swaying with his futile squirming. Lyle grabbed Billy's cock and stroked it to full size. The bigger it got, the harder Lyle laughed.

"This is going to be fun!" Lyle said.

"Yo, Lyle!"

Art O'Brien strutted into Billy's view. Art was on the wrestling team and his imposing physique seemed to fill the room. In sharp contrast, his face was smooth and rosy-cheeked, almost pretty, though nobody would have dared told him that to his face. His chestnut hair was close cropped, adding to the boyish look.

"Art!" Lyle said. "I knew I could count on you."

"No sweat, man. Rick'll be up in a sec. He's parking his heap."

"He's got the stuff, right?"

"You bet. This is gonna be a class act, man."

Billy felt the color drain from his face.

"Wh . . . what stuff?" Billy said.

Suddenly he heard the ladder creak.

"You're about to find out, brother."

Rick entered, carrying a black doctor's bag. His lean, swimmer's body was encased in a white, cotton jumpsuit and he moved with a feline grace. He greeted his friends with a nod. Studying Billy, Rick scratched his head as if studying an insect. His brown, collar length hair was so thick, his finger disappeared completely under it's dark waves.

"Well." Rick said. "We better start."

"Great," Lyle said. "Who wants what?

Rick pondered the question.

"Armpits," he said finally.

"I'll take his feet," Art said with a wide grin.

"That leaves the sides." Lyle said. "Just what I wanted. I'll be able to get that cute little belly button."

Billy gasped. Being tickled was bad enough; his feet were so sensitive it tickled just to think about them. But his belly button! He hoped that Lyle had forgotten just how sensitive it was.

"He's my brother," Lyle said. "I'll do the count."

With the discipline of dedicated soldiers, the young men took their places around Billy, whose brow was already sprouting bright beads of sweat.

"One." Lyle said with an evil grin.

"No man. Don't."

"Two."

Billy's heart began to race. Everyone's hands were bent claw-like and hovered over their victim, ready to attack.

"Three!"

"Noooooooooo!"

But Billy's cry went unheeded. A fury of sensation hit him like a tidal wave.

"Oh my god! Hahahahahahahahahahahaha! STOP! STOP! Aaaaaggggghhhhhhhh! PLEASE! I CAN'T TAKE IT! Hahahahahahahahahaha!"

But they just laughed and kept going. Rick had a light, but vicious, touch as he stroked Billy's downy pits. Art's fingers danced merrily along the captive's soles, grabbing and probing the toes when he wanted Billy to scream in a higher pitch. But it was Lyle's fiendish poking of the ribs and delicate stroking of the navel that sent Billy into quivering hysterics. Lyle's eyes gleamed as he made his brother's abdomen shake and roll.

"THIS IS FUCKIN' INHUMAN! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOP! HAHAHAHAHA! I MEAN IT!"

"That's okay, brother. We're sincere, too."

"No More! Aaaaaaaggghhhhhhh. Billy cried, his head swimming.

The room fell silent. Billy's unconscious, sweat soaked body lay heavily on the leather sling.

Lyle sighed, "Guess it's time for phase two."

Together, Lyle and Art untied Billy and laid him face up on the floor. Rick set about unhooking the sling in preparation for what was to happen.

"Everything nice and sharp, Lyle? "Rick asked.

Lyle grinned as he walked over to the corner of the room. From behind the bean bag chair, he removed an old, black doctor bag.

"Everything's ready," he said.

Billy awoke. The strange scraping sensations on his stomach, chest, and armpit dragged him out of his dreamless slumber. His arms were stretched overhead, tied by soft ropes around his wrists to a hook on the ceiling. He needed time to focus; the blurred images of his brother and the others captors. Cool air tingled his legs in a way he never felt before and his groin felt . . . funny.

His eyes focused on the full length mirror a few feet in front of him; he was hairless form the waist down. Mesmerized, he watched in horror as Lyle and the others shaved his upper body, the straight razors gliding effortlessly through thick shaving cream. Billy had never been very hairy, but the transformation took his breath away. He looked and felt like a child.

The last of Billy's hair now gone, Lyle sponged off his brother with warm water from a nearby bucket. Art toweled Billy dry. As Rick spread talc on Billy starting at his shoulders, the young man began to moan softly.

"Enjoy it while you can," Rick said in a low voice. ''We'll have you screaming real soon."

But Billy felt to good to care, at least for the moment. Soon, he felt six hands stroking his denuded skin, spreading the silken powder everywhere: chest, stomach, back, between his cheeks, over his sensitive crotch, down to his feet. Billy felt the leather being pulled tightly around his ankles again. He saw Lyle link the two together with chain and fasten them to a hook on the floor. Suddenly, their fingers became more aggressive, sliding and skipping across sensitive flesh.

"Please..." Billy pleaded.

At those words Lyle attacked Billy's feet with full force, forcing talc between the ticklish toes.

"AAAAAAAggghhhhh! Hahahahahahaha! Stop! Don't! Please! PLEASE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!', Billy screamed.

"I'm getting kind of bored with this," Art yawned as he stroked Billy's naked pits. "Let's get the drills out."

"Good idea," Rick said.

Lyle nodded in agreement.

They stopped while Lyle went to fetch the drills from the closet.

"Drills...what the..." Billy blubbered.

"You'll find out soon enough, shit-for-brains," Lyle said.

Lyle handed an instrument to each of his friends. A white feather was attached to each drill through a drill bit. They turned on their toys at the same time; they had done this sort of thing many times before.

Billy's eyes went wild with fright.

"No... No...NOOOOOOOOOO! AAAAAAHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

A tortured smile spread across Billy's cute face. Laughter blasted from his mouth as the high speed, fluffy feathers teased every inch of naked flesh. Just beneath his own laughter, Billy could hear the taunts and jeers of his captors.

"All right! This is one HOT tickle slave."

"Look at that cute little ol' belly button! Kitchy-kitchykoo!"

"I'm gonna get the crack of your ass, little boy! 00ooooooooo Weeeeee!"

Billy's cock twitched. The young victim tried to bite his lip, but he couldn't stop laughing long enough.

"Shit!" Billy thought. "I just can't get hard! They'll really get me then!"

But Billy couldn't help himself. In moments his cock, all seven inches of it, bounced in front of him like a waving flagpole.

"Don't anybody play with that," Lyle said firmly. "We're saving that for the guest of honor."

The others chuckled and continued tickling Billy with renewed fury. He bounced and yelled, tiny drops of sweat flying off him.

"No more! NO MORE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOP IT, YOU FUCKERS!"

"Well, listen to HIM!" Art said. "Here we are doing him a favor, getting him good and hard, and this is the thanks we get!"

"We'll just have to teach him a lesson," Lyle said wearily. "It's just part of growing up!"

Lyle worked the feather between Billy's squirming toes, making him yell even louder. So loud that nobody noticed that someone else was now in the room, watching the scene with keen interest. Lyle noticed the distinct heavy breathing. He looked up, a delighted smile on his face.

"Uncle Vern! I was wondering when you'd get here!"

Uncle Vern towered over the young men. Tall, broad shouldered and massively muscled, he seemed to fill the entire room. His dark hair and eyes made him look almost malevolent.

"You're parents are asleep. You're Ma insisted that I come here and spend the night after I told her that I just painted my bedroom and the fumes were giving me a headache. I told you that would work, Lyle."

"You sure did, Uncle Vern," Lyle said, giving him a hug. His arms barely made it around his uncle's chest.

"Ma and Dad're going to wonder where we are!" Billy stammered.

"I already told them we were going to spend the night up here. I said you'd take over the treehouse after I left for college so I thought we could all 'break it in' for you." Lyle said.

"Uncle Vern!" Billy said. "Please make them stop!"

"After they went though all this trouble! And you obviously enjoying yourself," Uncle Vern laughed, pointing at Billy's half-hard cock. "Why, I'm here to help!"

Billy trembled at those words. Lyle handed their uncle a fifth drill.

"Thanks, Lyle," Uncle Vern said. "You always were a considerate boy."

Everyone turned their drills on and inched their way towards Billy, with Uncle Vern leading the way.

Billy had never felt such raw panic in his young life. Desperately, he pulled on his restraints, his hands and feet turning red.

"No! NO! OH MY GOD!"

Then the tickle-torture began again. Billy laughed. And laughed.

For hours, Billy's tormentors worked him over. When Billy's voice sounded raw, Lyle gave his brother a drink of water from a flask. Then they'd continue. Suddenly, Billy felt a feather on his asshole, another just behind his bouncing balls. His cock now totally hard, he felt a rough hand grab it at the base. Billy's eyes flew open just as Uncle Vern lowered his feather. Billy felt the incredible tickling softness at the head of his cock and screamed. Lyle's feather wormed into his brother's belly button. Billy threw his head back like an animal and howled, cum shooting across the room and splattering against the mirror. Billy fainted.


* * *

"Why are we doing this?" Jim asked. Art's brother, Jim, was a clone of his older sibling, only about ten muscular pounds lighter.

"You're going to get to use the treehouse after we're all gone to college," Art said, putting his hand on his young brother's shoulder. "I just need to show you a few things. Make sure you treat it right."

The two brothers, with Art leading, ascended the rope ladder. Billy peaked out the treehouse window and Lyle pulled him back.

"All in good time," he said.

Alfonso
alfonso82@hotmail.com


www.ropejock.com