The Boogeyman Meets the Brewsters


by J.O. Dickingson <Authorsix@hotmail.com>

Caution/Welcome. This is a story involving four brothers, two preteens and two thirteen-year- olds, a seven-year-old boy, and that hideous being who has tormented all of us at some time or another, the boogeyman. It is posted at free gay adult story sites for adult entertainment only. If you find the boogeyman or the idea of preteens and teens being _s_e_x_ually active frightening, or get excessively horny reading stories about spanking, you'd better skip this story. Permission is not given to copy electronically nor in any other form for the purpose of redistribution or posting at sites other than those described here. This is the seventh of the Brewster Boys Series. Comments can be sent to the author, J. O. Dickingson, at authorsix@hotmail. com who recommends you be sure to take a condom to bed. You never know who might be under it.

On the television screen a dark-haired, good-looking man with just a wisp of white hair at the temples and wearing nothing but a dog collar was being lead by a leash about a room. He had just urinated on a fire hydrant and was about to be rewarded with a bone, not a doggy bone, but the stiffie being taken out of the red speedo of the randy fifteen-year-old boy who had been leading him.

"You know, for an old guy, he was a lot of fun," observed eleven-year-old Benny as he reached for another hand of buttered popcorn.

"Yumph, he wath," agreed his older brother Brent, his mouth full.

"But we sure the _f_u_c_k_ surprised him," observed Bobby, the youngest of the four brothers, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. He was a good-looking boy with high cheek bones, a fine nose and mouth, and dark brown hair of average length on the sides with the front combed up to form sort of a crest, a style called the Caesar. "He sure didn't expect ."

"Oh _s_h_i_t_," interrupted Brett as he grabbed the remote and snapped off the VCR.

The four brothers quickly turned and looked toward the door of the family room. Standing there shyly in the doorway was their charge for the evening, seven-year-old Charles Elwood. He stood there in his white flannel pajamas with colourful Pokemon characters, his light brown hair sticking out in all directions, and his big, deep brown eyes even wider than usual.

"What are you doing out of bed?" asked Brent sharply, not because he was angry that the boy was still awake, but because of what the boy had just caught them doing.

"Ah, well, I ."

"We let you stay up late. You promised if we did you wouldn't get up," reminded Brent's twin, Brett, just as sharply. The little kid had to have seen the images on the screen. If he told his parents, they'd be in big _s_h_i_t_.

"I know, but ."

"No but's. Now off to bed."

"I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I just can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"There's something under my bed."

"Chuck," Brent said firmly. "We've been through this. We looked, remember?"

"Yes," the boy said, his voice quavering. "But it snuck in after you left and while I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth."

"What snuck in?"

"The boogeyman."

"Chuck, there's no such thing."

"There is."

"Isn't."

"Is."

"Oh _s_h_i_t_," Bobby said irritably. Of the four brothers, he had the least patience, and the least concern about his language, not that his brothers were that cautious about when and where they swore either.

"Honest," the boy said, practically in tears.

"All right," said Benny with a sigh as he got up. "I'll come with you and check again."

"Won't do no good."

"Why?"

"Cuz he'll know. He'll just run away and wait until I'm alone. He knows when there's just a little kid there."

"Chuck," warned Brent.

"Honest."

The boy's wide, pleading eyes were sincere.

"Then what are we going to do?" argued Brent. He knew the kid really did believe what he was telling them and he felt sorry for him, but at the same time he wanted to get back to the video they were watching. "You can't stay out here with us all night."

"We'll just have to trick him," observed Brett, having been scheming during the conversation. Of the four brothers, the thirteen-year-old twin was the logical thinker.

"How?" asked Charles, eager for a solution.

"We'll make him think that you're in there, and when he comes out, we'll grab him."

"How we gonna do that?"

"We'll send in Bobby."

"The _f_u_c_k_ you will," Bobby declared.

"Com'on Bobby."

"Why me?"

"Cuz the boogeyman only wants little kids."

"What the _f_u_c_k_ you mean little kid. I'm ten years old!"

"Yeah, by three days."

"So I'm still ten."

"Com'on, be a sport."

"No way."

"You scared?"

"Of the boogeyman?" snorted Bobby. "Oh yeah, I'm shaking in my boots."

"Well go in there and shake in Chucky's slippers."

"Huh?"

"Put on Chucky's slippers. The boogeyman can only see your feet from under the bed, so when you go in the bedroom he'll think it's you. All you have to do is jump in the bed, and when he grabs you, you yell, and we'll grab him."

"Brett, you been cooking up those brownies we made for Santa last Christmas?"

"You made Santa brownies?" asked Charles.

"Oh yeah, he loved 'em," said Bobby with a grin as he thought back to last Christmas when they'd tried to get into Santa's toy bag by drugging him with brownies full of hash.

"Don't try to change the topic," Brett warned. That was a favourite way of the boys of distracting their parents, one that they were very good at. "Go ahead, Bobby. We want to get Chuck in bed so we can watch you know what."

Bobby didn't like it, but he did want to continue watching the video they'd secretly taped at their father's company picnic the previous month. Charles took off his slippers and with a lot of grumbling, Bobby removed his socks and put on the Mickey Mouse slippers with white fur trim. The ten-year-old's feet were far too big and all he could do was slid his toes part way in and step down on the backs with his heels.

"That's not going to work. Your jeans are hanging over them."

"I ain't putting on his pajamas bottoms!"

"They would be too small anyway. Just take off your pants."

"Oh geez!"

"The video," reminded Brett.

Bobby frowned but did as he'd been told. "Okay, so, what's the real plan?" he whispered as Brett stepped into the hallway with him.

"You go in Chucky's room, wait a minute, and then make a bunch of noise. Then come back and say you chased the boogeyman away and he's so scared you heard him say he's not ever coming back again."

"Hey, pretty _f_u_c_k_in' smart."

"Course," said Brett. "I got looks and brains."

"Too bad your dick is so small," teased his ten-year-old brother, his hazel eyes sparkling and his thin lips curling into a devilish grin.

"Up yours," replied his older brother, his own deep blue eyes twinkling. With his long, blond hair midway down his chest and fine features he could easily be mistaken for a flat-chested girl, but he was very much all boy, as were his three brothers.

"Kay, later," Bobby replied, and from the smile on his face Brett had no idea if he was joking or not. Bobby's tenth birthday might have been only three days ago, but the dark-haired boy was more knowledgeable about _s_e_x_ than some who were twice his age. "But while I'm gone don't eat up all the _f_u_c_k_ing popcorn."

Brett returned and the three brothers and their young charge sat there in silence. Each of them in turn glanced at the dark television screen and then just as quickly looked away.

"What was that you was watchin'?" Charles finally asked.

"Ah . . . just a movie," commented Brent.

"That man had no clothes on."

"Ah, yeah, ah, he was, ah, going to take a bath."

"You could see his pee-er," Charles giggled.

"Ah, yeah, well. . . ." Brent looked at his brothers for help.

"How come he had a dog collar and stuff?"

"Ah, well, he was playing he was a puppy."

"That's the other reason he had no clothes on," contributed Benny.

"The boy with him had a boner," Charles observed.

The three brothers glanced at each other in surprise. "What do you know about boners?" asked Benny.

"I know guys who date Cheryl get them all the time," Charles said, referring to his stacked sixteen-year-old sister.

The Brewster brothers could understand that. They themselves had spent many enjoyable hours in the same condition spying through her open window as she got ready for bed or for her bath.

"How do you know that?" asked Brett, his long, fine blond hair bouncing as he shook his head to clear the image of Cheryl from his mind.

"Sometimes when I get up at night they're smooching on the sofa and you can see their pants are sticking out, just like that boy's speedos were," Charles said with a smile. "I didn't know why that was at first, but then I heard one of her dumb dates telling another boy while they was waiting for Cheryl and her girlfriend one day 'bout how smooching with her gave him a boner, and he grabbed himself between the legs so I figured it out."

The image of Charles' well-endowed sister necking on the sofa with one of her boyfriends immediately came to the three brothers' mind, and just the thought caused a stirring in their pants.

"Yahhhhhh! Aggggghhhhh! Guuuuuuyyyyyyys!"

Charles jumped and looked as white as a sheet at the cries and the loud thumping. The three brothers looked at each other, barely able to suppress their grins.

"Gaaahhhhh! Hellllllp! Brrrrreeeet!"

"See, I told you there was a boogeyman! What are we going to do?" Charles cried as he jumped up excitedly, his voice quavering and his eyes wide open in fear.

"Fuuuuck! Jesusgod_d_a_m_n__f_u_c_k_in'sonofabitchgetthegod_d_a_m_n__f_u_c_k_in'_s_h_i_t_inheregod_d_a_m_n_it!"

The three brothers looked at each other again, this time in puzzlement. That was not the way it was supposed to go. Bobby was supposed to come strutting out with his sleeves rolled up and brushing off his hands and announcing how he'd thrashed the monster but good and how he'd never bother Charles again.

"Stupid little twerp," muttered Brett. "Can't even get a simple instruction right."

"What are we gonna do?" Charles asked, glancing at one brother and then the next in such a panic that what the older boy had said didn't register.

"Helllllllllp you _f_u_c_k_errrrrrrrrrrrrs!"

"We better go," said Brett.

Not only was Bobby going to get _s_h_i_t_ for not following the plan, he was going to get it for cursing too. The occasional word would probably go unnoticed by the seven-year-old, but the stream of vulgarity he'd just uttered, and with Chucky's current emotional stress, that was really taking a chance. If the kid started to use that sort of language himself and his parents found out where he'd learned it, that would be the end of their babysitting money.

Swinging open the door to Charles's room and ready to give Bobby a blast, his three brothers and Charles stared at the sight before them. There laying on the floor, his arms and shoulders and head sticking out from under the bed was Bobby, screaming his head off. The bed was bouncing up and down.

"Help me! Quick, pull me out!"

Brent and Brett knelt beside their kid brother. "You little ham," whispered Brent. "I said to make some noise and come back out. You're supposed to be the hero, not scaring the _s_h_i_t_ out Chuck!"

"I'm not _f_u_c_k_in' acting. Something's got me!" Bobby replied as he slid a bit further under the bed.

"Yeah, right," laughed Brent.

"_f_u_c_k_! I'm serious!"

His knuckles were white from gripping onto the edge of the bed and the look on his face and the tone of his voice were sincere. Bobby thought on his feet and usually had a comment for everything, and the ten-year-old was a great actor besides, but he wasn't that good. Still, a boogeyman? Com'on! Not sure what to make out of what was going on, the twins grabbed him by the upper arms and began to tug him out from under the bed. At four-foot-four and sixty-four pounds, he slid out easily, but suddenly it was as if his body got caught on something, and then he began to be drawn back under. The boys were really perplexed. There was no way he could do that himself. They yanked harder, dragging him part way back out again, but to their surprise he was pulled back under the bed once more. The twins looked at each other, and then nodded for Benny, who couldn't figure out just what was going on, to join them.

"Why are we trying to save him anyway?" asked Brett loudly as he winked at his brothers.

"Yeah, if whatever it is that's under the bed wants him that bad, they're welcome to him, "said Brent, glancing over at Charles and giving him a wink too.

"Can I have his baseball card collection?" asked Benny, catching on quickly.

"Sure."

"What sortta _s_h_i_t_ you guys talking about?" asked Bobby. The four of them joked around and poked fun at each other constantly, but they always came to each other's defence and help. That's what brothers who care about each other do.

"Okay, whoever or whatever you are, you can have him," Brent said as he and his brother let go.

As Bobby began to slide back under the bed, the two brothers leaped up and grabbed opposite sides of it. At the count of three, they flipped it over. They froze for a moment at the sight that met their eyes. There was the ugliest looking creature they'd ever seen, or imagined for that matter. It was laying flat on its stomach and holding Bobby's ankles firmly with long, gnarly fingers. Initially the creature had been about the same height and weight as Charles, and the boys' first impression was that it was a midget. However, now that it was exposed, it began to grow, swelling up until it was its normal size, five-foot-ten and a hundred and seventy pounds. It was blood-red in colour with sunken, rheumy, grey eyes, a hawk-like nose, and a pulsating forehead. Its body was covered with warts and large purplish boils visible under its baggy, tattered clothes.

It glared at them with its rheumy eyes for a moment before letting go of Bobby. Snarling at them with a mouth lined with long, fang-like teeth, it leaped to its feet and made a dash for the open window. The four brothers were faster.

Tackling it to the floor, the four leaped on it, one landing on its head, one on its back and the other two sittings on its legs. Quickly unbuckling and removing its belt, Brent looped it about the creature's legs and drew it tight. Rolling it over and popping off its shirt buttons, Brett pulled off its tattered shirt and used it to tie its arms behind its back. The boys finally stepped back and looked down at their captive.

"_s_h_i_t_, it's ugly."

"You can say that again."

"Even uglier then Benny," observed Bobby with a devilish grin, once more his normal self. Actually, at just over eighty pounds and standing at almost four-foot seven, the eleven-year-old was a slightly older copy of his younger brother, except his dark brown gelled hair was spiked.

"Up yours," his brother responded, a standard reply of the four boys.

"Maybe later," Bobby grinned with a twinkle in his eyes. "After Brett," he added, grinning even wider.

"Who the hell are you anyway?" asked Brent, addressing the ugly creature and keeping his brothers' attention on the problem at hand.

"I think you boys know," came the reply, the voice coarse and raspy. Charles took a step back. Being with the four boys he admired more than anything, he didn't cower, but he sure wanted to.

"You gotta be kidding," replied Brett.

Their captive just glared up at them.

"You ever hide under my bed?" Bobby asked suspiciously.

"Yes. Many times. But you were never alone long enough for me to do anything."

"_f_u_c_k_ing cunt," said Bobby. Walking over to him, he gave him a swift kick in the ribs with his heel. The creature winced, but in that Bobby had lost his slipper in the ordeal the ten-year-old's kick wasn't very painful. "Why the _s_h_i_t_ do you hide under kids' beds and scare the hell out of them anyway?" Bobby asked, his quick temper flaring and his eyes flashing. The creature still said nothing as it stared up at him blankly. This time Bobby was smarter. He delivered a well-aimed kick between its legs. The creature curled up in pain. "Well? I asked you a question cunt!" When there was still no response, the ten-year-old drew back his foot again.

"Alright, alright," the creature responded.

"So what the _f_u_c_k_'s this all about?"

"I think you know."

"You really steal kids?" Brent asked.

"Yes."

"What for?" asked Charles. "What do you do with them?"

"Depends," came the sullen reply.

"On what?" the seven-year-old asked.

"On what is needed. On the boy."

"Like?" Charles persisted.

"Most of them are shipped out of the country, to work in factories and sweat shops, or on farms, especially the strong ones. Little babies fetch a high price on the black market and are mostly sold to couples who can't have children. And of course there's always a market for the good-looking ones, ones like you boys," he said, leering despite his position.

"You don't eat them?" asked Charles.

The creature snorted. "Haven't for centuries. Used to, but times have changed. It's much eviler to kidnap children and sell them off."

"So how many children have you kidnapped?"

"Thousands. You lose track after a while. Eternity is a long time you know, especially in hell."

The boys looked at each other, and then back at the creature on the floor.

"So what we going to do with him?" asked Brent.

"Turn him over to the cops?" suggested Benny.

"For what?" the creature asked insolently.

"Trying to kidnap Chuck, and Bobby."

"Got no proof of that."

"Then for hiding under my bed," challenged Charles.

"I'm sure the penalty will be high for that," the man chuckled.

"He's right. He'll just be back out on the street again in no time."

"Or under the bed that is."

"So what we going to do with him?"

"He's bad," observed Charles.

"Very."

"He should be spanked."

The brothers looked at each other, and then as one they thought of one of the web sites they'd visited recently.

"Yeah," agreed Brent, "that works for me."

"Oh, please, don't hurt me," begged the boogeyman in mock fright. "I promise I'll be good." If he'd known who he was dealing with, he wouldn't have been so arrogant.

"First," said Brett, deep in thought, "you need a bath."

"Yeah, you're filthy," Benny agreed.

"What do you expect spending all my time hiding in musty closets and under kids' beds with dust bunnies and missing socks and week-old tuna sandwiches," he asked.

"Week-old tuna sandwiches?"

"Hasn't your mother ever packed you a lunch you hated?"

"Hey," said Bobby, his eyes sparkling.

"Forget it brother," warned Benny. "I'm sleeping above you, remember?"

"And we're in the same room," added the twins together.

"Go fill the tub Chuck," Brett instructed, "and be sure the water is nice and hot." Charles ran off to obey.

Finding a pair of round-ended scissors in Charles's desk, the four brothers labouriously cut off the Boogeyman's tattered pants and filthy underwear and pulled off his smelly socks. Each taking an arm or a leg, they carried him down the hall to the bathroom. The water was steaming and he let out an ear-piercing scream as they dropped him in. Spotting Charles's sister's bubble bath, they dumped half of it in the tub and then proceeded to scrub down their victim. The warm water, the perfumed soap, and five _s_e_x_y-looking boys running their hands all over his body had the inevitable effect on the evil creature, something that did not go unnoticed by the _s_e_x_-wise boys and the curious seven-year-old. Finally pulling him out of the bath, they giggled at the sight of his huge, protruding, circumcised erection. It was just as red as the rest of his body.

"Chuck, I seen some rubber bands in your sister's room. Go find them."

Charles hastened to obey. By the time the boys had dried off their victim and taken him back to Charles' room, the seven-year-old had found the bands. Taking one of the thick ones, Brent twisted it several times to make it as small as he could, and then stretching it apart, slipped it down to the base of the huge, twitching _c_o_c_k_. The second band he made as tight as possible too and slipped it over the evil creature's hairy balls.

Meanwhile, his brothers had been rearranging the furniture. Turning the boy's toy box around lengthwise, they had their captive lay on it on his stomach and chest, his head hanging over one end and his crotch and legs over the other. Then taking Charles's toy X-man handcuffs, they untied his arms and stretching them out in front of him, cuffed his wrists to the leg of Charles' dresser. Removing the belt around his ankles, they used Charles's kite string to stretch out the man's legs and tie them spread-eagled to the two corners at the foot of his bed.

Brent stepped up to him and looked down at their captive. "Perfect," he said with a grin as he ran his hand over the man's unprotected rump. "Now, you're going to get a spank for each child you've ever stolen." So saying he drew his arm back and delivered the first, solid smack to the boogeyman's ass.

The man winced as the pain shot through his meaty rump, its sensitivity having been heightened by the boiling water. He had not felt that sort of pain since he was a child and it reminded him of the many times his father had punished him this way. He squirmed and tried to break out of his bonds. The slaps being delivered by the boy's hand to his naked butt hurt, but the humiliation of being punished like a little child by a boy barely out of childhood himself was far more painful. Brent smacked him again and again, and with each smack his rump became more and more tender.

"Thirty." Smack. "Thirty-one." Smack.

"His bum is turning redder," giggled Charles.

"It's going to be as red as a fire truck by the time I'm done," promised Brent. "Thirty-two."

As the thirteen-year-old continued his punishment, two things happened. One, the boogeyman could no longer hide his pain as smack after smack landed on his now tender, glowing bottom. He grimaced and bit his lower lip and inhaled sharply with each blow, much to the amusement of the five boys. The second thing that became very evident was that Brent was enjoying this immensely. Even his baggy cargo pants could not hide the erection that had developed as a result of spanking this adult's naked butt.

"Fifty."

"Alright, alright. What do you want from me? You can't spank me several thousand times." He knew that eventually the boy would tire, but he also knew the boy was young and angry and could easily keep going for a long time yet. He wasn't. He could not take more of this pain, nor the humiliation. That had been one of his many weaknesses as a mortal. Besides, he knew everyone had their price, even thirteen-year-old boys.

"Promise you'll never try to steal Chuck again."

"Alright, alright, I promise."

That was an easy promise. There were hundreds of thousands of children to steal in the country. Charles was a cute kid and would have brought good money on the pervert pedo market, but there was nothing that special about the boy that such a promise would be a major loss. Brent stopped and walked around to face his victim. The man could not believe it. The kid was so simple and naive. If he'd know that was all it would have taken he would have promised after the first ten spanks.

"That's it?" asked Benny, also unable to believe this. "That's all his punishment?"

Brent drew down his fly of his black Guess jeans, and with some difficulty, extracted his slightly more than four-inch erection. Standing in front of the bound man, he slowly began to jack off.

"Alright!" said Benny, his faith in his brother restored.

"What are you doing?"

"Aw, com'on, you know what I'm doing."

"Of course I know what. Why are you doing it?"

"Com'on, you know why too."

"Stop."

"You have to be joking."

"At least aim that thing away from me."

"Why should I?"

"I did as you asked. I promised I'd never try to steal Charles again."

"And I stopped spanking you."

"But-."

It was too late. The spanking had gotten the thirteen-year-old hot. He grunted and arched his hips and the first of his ropes of cum spurted out and struck the man in the face. The runny boy juice struck him between the eyes and oozed down the slope of his nose and hung from the tip as a long white pendent. The fourteen year-old's balls were loaded and spurt after spurt erupted out of his stiff _c_o_c_k_. His cum ran down the man' cheeks and chin, leaving behind slimy trails. It struck his lips and the smell of fresh boy juice wafted up to his nostrils. Charles stood there watching with his mouth and his big brown eyes wide open.

"Okay, Charles. It's your turn," said Brent, finally turning to him.

"My turn?" Charles asked, his eyes still fixed on Brent's stiff pee-er. A droplet of that strange white pee clung to the peehole.

"Sure, you want to spank him don't you?"

"Hey, now wait a minute. I've promised." As the glob of cum clinging to his lip dripped into his mouth, he was immediately sorry he'd opened it.

"You promised to my terms. Now you have to deal with Charles."

"I can't hit as hard as you," Charles said regretfully.

"Hit him with this," suggested Brent, picking up one of Charles' slippers.

"My slipper?"

Brent smiled and bent over and whispered in Charles' ear. Charles grinned and picked up his Mickey Mouse slipper.

"Okay, Mister boogeyman, this is for scaring me."

With that he began to smack the monster with his slipper, whack after whack as hard as he could. The seven-year-old didn't have that much strength, but with his ass cheeks already sensitized, the man's butt began to sting almost immediately. After a dozen solid slaps, Charles stopped, and turning around his slipper, he rubbed the furry trim against the man's butthole.

"Ahhh," the man responded as he strained against his restraints. "Gmmph, aaaaaah, uuuuunnnnnhhhhh!" The man squirmed with the new agony. "Oh _s_h_i_t_, kid, stop. Aggggh! Oh _s_h_i_t_! Stop!"

Being told to stop was all the more reason for Charles to continue. He had thought that Brent's suggestion would be fun, but he had no idea that the man would respond to his tickling so violently. To the seven-year-old, the man's discomfort was sweet revenge. Of course he had no way of knowing that the tickling feeling the man was experiencing was not the same as when the boy got his ribs or underarms tickled. These tickles were tickles of stimulation, and the erotic ripples emanating out from his anus were as painful as electric shocks to the man. He opened and closed his irritated butthole in desperation, which also opened and closed his peehole. He squirmed and withered on Charles' toy box in erotic agony as the seven-year-old boy gleefully tortured him.

Brent nodded, and Charles stopped and once more began to smack the evil man's bottom. He delivered a dozen sharp smacks with his slipper, causing the man's red bum to glow even redder. He then looked up at Brent, and when the teenager nodded, the youngster once again turned his slipper around. This time, however, instead of rubbing it along the man's ass crack, he began to rub the fur along the man's erection, readily accessible between the man's outspread legs and jutting out from his body like an obscene rudder as the man balanced on the toy box on his stomach and chest.

"Agggh, agggh no!" the man called out as he squirmed even more violently to Charles' delight.

The furry trim lightly touched the boogeyman's blood-engorged _c_o_c_k_, swollen even larger with the restraining rubber band at the base. He quivered and ached as it ran along the shaft, now lined with blood-filled blue veins. When it touched the sensitive rim of the glans of his cut _c_o_c_k_, the man jerked and pulled on his restraints. The tight toy handcuffs cut into his wrists, and the thin cord of the kite string cut into his ankles. As pain shot through his wrists and ankles, an even greater pain shot though his deep purple _c_o_c_k_head.

"Aggggh! Noooooo! Kid, you got to stop!" he called out. "Oh shiiiiiiiit! Stop!" he screamed as he banged his naked body against the hard plastic toy box. "_f_u_c_k_in' _s_h_i_t_ I have to cum! Stop!"

"Okay," said Charles agreeably, and once more he began to smack the man's backside with his slipper. Over and over he smacked, this time two dozen smacks, and then once again he began to alternately caress the evil man's butthole and his grossly swollen _c_o_c_k_ with his slipper. He was making him pay but good and he giggled with delight.

"Attaboy Chuck!" encouraged Brent, causing the boy to beam even more broadly. He could not think of a better moment in his short life than that.

The monster from hell jerked and strained against his restraints. Deep cuts had formed in his wrists and ankles and they were throbbing painfully. His tenderized butt was pulsating with an inner heat, glowing like the burner of an oven. Worst of all, was the ache in his nuts and the burning demand being sent from his itching _c_o_c_k_head to ejaculate. His swollen nuts below the rubber band were doing their best, but there was no way that he could cum.

"Alright, alright!" he called as Charles paused to catch his breath. "What is it you want? Just say, anything."

"Apologize for trying to catch me, and for scaring me."

"You have to be kidding," the man snorted. Apologize, to a seven-year-old kid? He was an adult, and a thousand year's old. He was a fiend and a demon who had stolen thousands of innocents such as this child, and who answered only to those more powerful than himself in the hierarchy of the underworld.

The torture resumed, spank, tickle and arouse. Benny suddenly nudged Brent, and with a leer, nodded toward Charles's crotch. Charles's white flannel pajamas were sticking out, and when he swung his arm, the fly opened to reveal a tiny pink projection sticking up inside. Spanking the man's naked butt, and rubbing his furry slipper along his stiff dick had the expected results on the boy. Charles was totally unaware of the reaction of his body, and even if he had noticed, the seven-year-old would have had no idea why his body had reacted so.

The boogeyman finally gave in. Even when he'd been mortal he'd had a low tolerance for pain. It was because of his weak will that he'd gotten into so much trouble as a mortal and eventually had been condemned to the underworld.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry I tried to catch you. I'm sorry I scared you. Just stop it!" he begged as he squirmed on the plastic toy box as the furry slipper sent a maddening thrill through the rim of his _c_o_c_k_head. "_f_u_c_k_ing _s_h_i_t_, I have to cum so bad!"

Charles sat back with a satisfied grin. This was alright. He stared at his captive for a moment and thought. "What does that mean?" he finally asked as he looked up at the Brewster brothers.

"What does what mean?" asked Benny, being the authority for the four brothers on _s_e_x_ and strange adult information.

"That he has to come."

The brothers looked at each other, and then back at Charles, or more appropriately, at his barely noticeable bulge.

"How does your pee-er feel?" asked Bobby, stepping up to the seven-year-old and suddenly groping him. Charles giggled and squirmed as Bobby squeezed his tiny, swollen tube, but he didn't try to get away. The groping felt good. "Well? How does your pee-er feel?"

"Well, itchy," Charles responded with a giggle again. Squirming with Bobby grabbing his pee-er felt even better.

"You like to play with it?"

Charles looked at him blankly.

"You know, rub it with your fingers."

Charles shrugged.

"You never done it?"

Charles shook his head in the negative.

"_s_h_i_t_. Never?" Bobby asked in disbelief.

Charles shook his head, this time in the affirmative.

"Then its time you learned all about cumming," Bobby announced, and with a quick flip of his wrist he had slipped Charles's little two inch prong out of his Pokemon pajamas.

Charles froze, not sure what to do or say, and he began to blush a bright red. He had been told for years by his parents that nobody was supposed to see his private parts. However, the seven-year-old also knew that what his parents said and what the Brewster boys often did were not the same. Besides, something very strange had happened to his private part, something he was not aware of having ever happened before. It was hard and sticking straight up in the air, like Brent's had, and his immediate thought was that it had to pee that white pee that Brent had. Brent had looked like that was fun, but he had no idea how a guy did it.

"And I think this nice bum that you've just warmed up would be perfect for your first time," Bobby continued, nudging the confused boy until he was standing behind the Boogeyman. "Now, what you do first is stick your pee-er up his bumhole."

"Up his bumhole?" Charles asked, wrinkling up his nose.

"Yeah."

"Eeeew."

"Trust me, it's not like you think. You'll like it."

Charles looked up at Bobby. He was ten, and he was wise, and someone you could trust. "Really?"

"Yeah," Bobby replied, and his brothers all joined in to voice their agreement.

"What the hell do you boys think you're doing?" protested their victim.

"Should he have some lube?" asked Benny, ignoring the comment.

"Naw, not with his size," said Brent knowledgeably. "It's perfect."

"Com'on," urged Bobby. "Do it. You can be the first of us to do him."

"You're going to do it too?"

"Of course."

"What?" cried their captive. "Now just wait a _d_a_m_n_ minute here!"

Charles beamed, oblivious to the man's objections. The others were going to do it too. Him and the others, like a team, a team he was a member of. This was going to be all right. It was going to be better than all right, he was going to be the first. "So how do I do it?"

Bobby moved the seven-year-old boy into position. Then as Charles held onto the man's ass cheeks still hot from his spanking with his equally hot hands, Bobby took his tiny dick between his thumb and first finger. The horny, perverted ten-year-old guided the little probe as Charles pressed forward. His slender little _c_o_c_k_ and the man's large anus did not require any lube as Brent has predicted. Charles easily penetrated him as far as he could stick his little dick. Under Bobby's instructions, he began to work his hips in and out.

"Now, isn't that a great way to scratch your itch?"

"Awesome," agreed the boy, paying only partial attention to what Bobby was saying as he concentrated on the new sensation assaulting his _c_o_c_k_ and his mind. Never had he experienced anything like this. It was wonderful, and it was the Brewster brothers who had revealed it to him.

The four brothers were enjoying the experience as much as Charles, and all quickly became erect watching him _f_u_c_k_ing the tortured man balanced on his toy box, even Brent although he'd just cum. Each thought back to his own first discovery of the pleasure that tube of flesh between his legs could bring, and each reached down and squeezed it. As for the Boogeyman, as he lay there helplessly before the five boys, he began to think of all the ways he was going to make them pay for what they were doing to him.

The itch in Charles's dickhead became more intense, and the seven-year-old began to _f_u_c_k_ more furiously, slamming his flannel pajamas against the creature's warm ass and grasping his hips tightly as he drew back and then delivered another slam. The four brothers all glanced at each other and leered knowingly. The look of awe and delight on Charles's face gave them all a warm feeling. They began to fiddle with their stiff _c_o_c_k_s.

"How's it feelin'?" asked Bobby, already knowing the answer.

"Awesome," panted Charles. "His bum is so hot!"

The itchiness in the young boy's dick head was gradually replaced by a burning, which he found painful but pleasant at the same time. It was frightening, but he trusted his young mentors. Charles worked his hips to and fro rapidly and instinctively in an attempt to bring the new discomfort to an end. His little penis throbbed as the blood pulsated through it and his breathing grew laboured as the pain turned to immense pleasure. Suddenly his eyes glazed over and he began to twitch repeatedly. At the same time he began to really slam the man's ass although the twitching made his thrusts erratic. He grunted and groaned loudly and repeatedly as he worked his _c_o_c_k_ in and out of the man's asshole. Finally easing his stiff penis out of the hot, pulsating hole, he stumbled back and sat down on his bed with a long sigh. His little chest heaved as he gasped for breath.

"Now that is cumming," explained Bobby.

"Wow."

"We're going to have to work on your vocabulary next," said Bobby seriously. "Especially the adjectives."

"I'm next," announced Benny eagerly as he stepped up to their bound captive.

"You? I've done nothing to you!" the ravaged man responded, realizing each of the boys intended on having a turn at him.

"Don't matter," Benny said matter-of-factly. "Be right back."

A few seconds later he returned with a huge grin, and a fly swatter. Stepping up behind the Boogeyman, he began to wallop him with all his strength. Over and over he walloped, and the Boogeyman jerked with each swipe of the fly swatter. The pain was bad enough, but even worse was the humiliation. Beaten with a fly swatter by an eleven-year-old boy, and just raped by a seven-year-old! After a thousand years, how could this have happened? He had invaded countless homes and captured thousands of children, but he'd never met any children like these four brothers. He winced and jerked as the swatter slapped his tender ass, no longer being able to hide his pain.

"Not only are you going to not try to capture Charles anymore, but you are going to protect him from other boogeymen," demanded Benny.

The Boogeyman could not believe it. There was no way he could ever do what Benny was requiring of him. He was a denizen from hell. He lived with other Boogeymen, if living is what you could call it existing in hell. The creature could not even begin to imagine what the others would do to him if he tried to interfere in their lives. Gritting his teeth and swallowing hard, he took the punishment. The otherwise silent room resounded with slap after slap of the fly swatter. His butt cheeks burned, but he could not do what the boy was demanding of him. Slap after slap hit his butt, each one causing more pain as his backside became inflamed. His _c_o_c_k_ was beginning to ache with the dammed flow of blood, and he knew if the band wasn't removed soon the sensitive vessels were going to begin to burst. Finally, unable to stand the pain any longer, and seeing no reason why he should risk damaging his manhood, he agreed to the eleven-year-old boy's terms.

"And now my reward," announced the eleven-year-old happily.

Pushing down his cargo pants and underwear, he stepped up behind the captive. His young boy _c_o_c_k_ had been hard for so long it was drawn to the man's backside like an iron nail to a magnet. Although it was twice as long and thick as Charles's _c_o_c_k_, Benny did not pause to lubricate it. He was hot, and Charles had prepared the man's hole for him. He grasped the man's hot hips, and with a single lunge, rammed his young boy _c_o_c_k_ into the man's asshole. The Boogeyman tensed as he felt the young boy penetrate him and a shock of pain rip up his ass. The boy's _c_o_c_k_ was slender and short, somewhere between three and four inches long, but his asshole was not accustomed to being penetrated.

The pain was momentary. As Benny began to work his hips to and fro as Charles had, the stimulation of the boy's stiff hot _c_o_c_k_ methodically working in and out of his rectum changed the man's pain to pleasure. The Boogeyman welcomed the change, and he concentrated on the pleasure rippling through his otherwise abused backside. Before long Benny was gasping and quivering with his dry orgasm and the Boogeyman was thrusting and aching to get off himself, his mind trying to will his flesh to do what was impossible. Charles grinned, knowing exactly how the two of them felt.

"Who's next?"

"Me," announced Brett. "For me you gotta promise to never steal any more kids."

"That is impossible! I can't promise that," the man protested. "That's my nature. That's my purpose. I can't promise not to do something that is my sole reason for existing."

"Then that's tough _s_h_i_t_ for you," was Brett's reply. "Chuck, go in your sister's room and get one of her bras. They're in the third drawer of her dresser."

Charles ran to obey, not even questioning how Brett knew that. He was thirteen, and thirteen-year-old's knew a lot of things. Brett of course had spied enough on the girl getting dressed and undressed to know more than just where her bras were kept. Charles returned in seconds, carrying a frilly white bra with pink flowers embroidered on it. He handed it to Brett, wondering what the boy was going to do with it.

Drawing back the elastic, the thirteen-year-old boy let go with a resounding whap, causing their captive to jerk with the pain even harder than he had the previous three times he'd been spanked. Over and over Brent snapped the elastic and little bluish welts rose on the man's cherry-red butt. Over and over the elastic struck until his butt looked like the zit marked face of a teen with a severe acne problem.

He had kidnapped children when he'd been a human, and his purpose ever since he'd been condemned to hell had been to kidnap little children. His solitary joy was the look of fear on their faces as he stalked them in their darkened bedrooms, and there was no greater reward than the look of terror when he turned them over to some sweat-shop owner or some perverted pedo. He concentrated on the tear-stained face of a different boy he'd kidnapped with each snap of the bra, but finally even that could not block out the pain. His butt had to look like raw hamburger, and it felt like it had been stung by a thousand wasps.

He had an eternity of punishment in hell, but he could not take the punishment being delivered by the thirteen-year-old blond. He finally relented and promised he would never steal another child. He had no idea how binding these promises were considering he was a demon from hell, but knowing the limitless torture that existed, he would be surprised if there was not some code that bound him to these oaths. There were many ways that the punished could be further punished in the underworld.

As Brent dropped his pants and underwear and the Boogeyman felt the teenager pressing his hard, hot _c_o_c_k_head against his tender, raw hole, the creature also wondered where being beaten and raped by these five young boys was going to place him in the scheme of things. If word got to his colleagues, or to his superiors, he would likely be finished as a boogeyman. There were thousands of lower beings and disgusting things that he could be turned into. If that were to happen, then what would be the meaning of his oaths this night? Such are the thoughts of the _d_a_m_n_ed. Perhaps more accurately, such are the thoughts of those under the control of the Brewster brothers.

The penetration of the boy's hard, hot _c_o_c_k_ interrupted his morbid thoughts, and he welcomed the diversion even if the diversion was his rape. Of the three _c_o_c_k_s that had now been up his asshole, Brent's was the longest, and as the head of the boy's pecker struck his prostate, the man whimpered and his balls began to ache all over again as they strained to release the load that had built up inside them. As Brent gasped and panted with the ecstasy of _f_u_c_k_ing the man's hot, tight asshole, the man gasped and panted in desperation to get off.

The thirteen-year-old screwed the man hard and furiously, his own pleasure the only goal in mind. He loved the way his _c_o_c_k_ felt when it was being stimulated, and he loved the way it felt when he came. If he could, he'd come all day long. As for the Boogeyman, a thousand years had not dulled his lust. Although he was more accustomed to being the one doing the _f_u_c_k_ing, there was something erotic about being screwed by a thirteen-year-old.

It was not long before Brent achieved his goal and the hot teenager groaned and clenched his eyes as he shot his hot, thick load up the man's butt. When he finally withdrew, the Boogeyman wailed in desperation and the inability to achieve his own ejaculation.

"Just you left Bobby. Which of these you want to spank him with?" Brett asked.

"None," the boy replied. "I want Brent's runners."

"Wicked!"

"Yep," he said with a grin.

Brent readily removed his runners. Taking one, Bobby removed the laces, and then placing it over the man's nose and mouth, he began to lace it up behind his head. Brent was very conscious of his hygiene, but after being in a pair of hot runners for fifteen hours, even the cleanest feet begin to pick up an odour, especially when they belong to a growing, active teen. The man began to gag with the assault of the sharp odour of hot, sweaty teen feet and he had to fight back the urge to upchuck. Taking the other runner, Bobby gave a resounding smack to his captive's ass. The blow left behind a pattern of tread marks on the creature's backside.

"Cool," said Charles, observing the red pattern on the smooth butt.

Over and over Bobby smacked him. With each smack, the wave on the top of his head bobbed. Except for Charles, he had the greatest reason for spanking the creature. The man had really scared him, and he was going to make him pay for it. Besides, spanking his bare butt with Brent's runner was _f_u_c_k_ing hot, and there was nothing the recently-turned ten-year-old liked better than getting hot. His little _c_o_c_k_let, all of three inches when stiff, had been aching long before he'd gotten his turn to do the spanking, and now it was itching for attention even more.

He finally announced his requirement of the evil man, that the Boogeyman promise to try to free all the other kids he had ever kidnapped. The previous demand that he stop trying to kidnap boys was contrary to his nature. Bobby's demand that he try to free those he'd kidnapped demanded of him that he do just the opposite to what he'd been doing for a thousand years. Despite the pain of his rump, and the humiliation he was experiencing, that was not something he could agree too. Bobby didn't really care how long it was going to take him to agree as he joyfully walloped the man's backside. There was not a square inch of skin that did not have a red pattern from the runner tread. The man gritted his teeth as he struggled with the conflict.

He still had not come to terms with the problem when Bobby pushed down his jeans and underwear and his slender young _c_o_c_k_ suddenly eased up the man's asshole. Already ravaged by three other _c_o_c_k_s, the Boogeyman quivered with the sharp pain. Despite the slenderness and shortness of the boy's weapon, it felt monstrous and sharp as a knife as he began to slice in and out of the man's tender rectum. He reached around and began to jack off the man as he _f_u_c_k_ed his ass, and the man trembled and jerked his hips and cursed the boy, which only made him wank all the harder. The man's nuts were drawn up under the stem of his _c_o_c_k_ like hard little marbles, and they ached with a pain as severe as if they were being kicked. On top of that, his _c_o_c_k_head burned with desire and demanded a release of his semen, but there was nothing he could do. By this time the man's _c_o_c_k_ had turned blue with lack of oxygen and cut off circulation and it throbbed dully, feeling detached from his body and twice its usual size.

Finally unable to stand it any longer, the man gave in and agreed to the boy's terms, but only if the boy would let him cum. That was enough to trigger Bobby's orgasm and he groaned and trembled with the joy and awe of his dry climax. It was awesome, and he could not wait until he was old enough to come. He humped rapidly for another half a minute, causing his _c_o_c_k_ to itch and burn hotter and hotter until he could stand the itch no longer. When he finally drew his _c_o_c_k_ out of the man's rectum, the tube of flesh was as red as the boogeyman's rump.

Bobby looked at his brothers, and they all looked at Charles. "What do you say, Chuck? Wanna see him cum?" asked Bobby.

"Sure," Charles said with a shrug.

Unlocking the toy handcuffs, they allowed the man to sit on the toy box. Although his wrists were arching from where the toy handcuffs had cut into them, and though his hands were numb from having their circulation cut off, the Boogeyman eagerly grasped his aching erection and began to rapidly jack it off. He did not care five young boys were watching him. He did not care if they were laughing and nudging each other as they smirked at him. In seconds his blood-engorged, numbed _c_o_c_k_ was fountaining out his pent-up juices. Rope after rope flew up in the air and landed back down on his body. The boys giggled and smirked and cheered him on.

They finally untied his legs and told him to come back and visit sometime and they'd have another fun party. He said nothing as he quickly slunk away, wondering how he was going to keep this from his colleagues, and especially from the big boss himself.

The five boys returned to the family room and while Bobby surfed in search of something appropriate for Charles to watch on the television, Brett popped a fresh bowl of popcorn and Benny got out some chilled cans of soda. They finally decided to watch the Disney Channel, but in less than half an hour Charles was stretched out on the floor sound asleep.

"Hey, look," observed Bobby. "He's got a little boner again."

Sure enough, his little stiff _c_o_c_k_let was sticking out of the open fly of his pajamas.

"I think the next time we babysit, we should teach him a few more of the fun things that he can do with it," observed Brett.

"Oh yeah," the others agreed. They high fived, and then inserting their video of Labour Day into the VCR, they lay back and reached for each other's _c_o_c_k_s with their greasy fingers. The four brothers had several fun things in mind to pass the time until Chuck's parents returned home, and salted, buttered _c_o_c_k_ was featured in each of them.


More stories byJ.O. Dickingson