Forcemasc Notes Challenge

Baby Bro who's the drunk perv. He gets so tired of being pent up. He's touched starved and it makes him cry. Well, it makes him cry AFTER he's about half a bottle of whiskey down.

He sneaks into his sleeping brother's room. Big Bro had a hot date tonight. He even has lipstick on his collar bone still. Baby Bro crawls right on top of him, face red and cheeks soaked. He grinds against his brother's sleeping cock. He needs to get him hard. He needs to feel full somehow.

Big Bro wakes with a jolt, immediately concerned about his Baby crying. "What is it???"

"Nobody loves me."

That is quickly proven wrong. Big Bro has him on his back, plowing his precious Baby into the mattress. Baby Bro mewls and cries as his hole is throughly fucked. But Big Bro isn't stopping anytime soon, he has a point to prove.

i would love to get a text from an unknown number

lemme rephrase that. i want someone, some unknown phone number, to randomly text me one day. i click onto it, curious, because i don’t give my number out to anyone

no words, just an attachment

i click onto it to see a video with a familiar backdrop

is that… my bedroom?

suddenly, an unknown man, wearing a mask, walks into frame, turning the camera to show me, in bed, asleep

he pulls my blankets off while i sleep. i’m not wearing anything, i never do…

i proceed to watch the full video, 20 minutes of some masked stranger using me in my sleep, announcing to the camera when he cums inside my tight boycunt

the video ends. i look around, praying silently that he’s not still there

my phone pings again

and he’s sent me a picture of myself, taken through the window while i was watching the video

that night, i don’t lock my door before going to bed

we were not born to text we were put on this earth to smoke blunts and jerk eachother off in massive fields of soft grass on a breezy sunny day

boys that want to get pounded until their eyes well up with tears and their eyeliner is dripping down their cheeks

I’ve been a bad girl daddy

Okay go kill yourself honey

tw; intox, fauxcest, grooming(?)

it starts when you turn 18. maybe you've had friends whose parents smoke, never anything worse than a cigarette around you and your friends, but their home still has that skunky smell to it.

the same skunky smell that lingers on your brother's clothes. nothing washes it out, so stained in the very fibers of the fabric that it's ingrained in your brother's presence. so very him in a comforting way that makes your stomach tingle with warmth. you're not sure why.

he smokes in his room, and now that you're 18, whenever you're together. at first, you don't ask when he pulls a joint from a metal tube stashed in the top drawer of his desk and sparks it right in front of you. he doesn't bother to offer you a hit, either. he'd feel guilty about corrupting his little brother. and then you get used to the smell, and it becomes your smell, too, no longer just your brother's. he smokes regularly, you've found, because whenever he's in his room, there's a joint in his hand.

one day, you wander into his room without knocking to find your older brother seated at his desk, smoking as usual. it's not like you've never been curious about it because whenever he smokes, you feel a little lighter - a contact high. so you walk over to him, standing beside his desk for a second to just watch.

"need somethin'?" he asks, his joint half-smoked and dangling from his lips, his eyes briefly flickering to you.

"can... can i try?" you point to said joint. he looks really good smoking, you find. maybe you will, too.

"hm?" he glances at the dangling fire hazard, high but not enough to be unaware. "oh, sure."

you're confused when he pauses his game and grabs you by the back of the neck, his free hand securing the spliff as he takes a long drag, only to press his fingers just behind your jaw, forcing your mouth open like a dog. it all makes sense when he brings you closer with that grip, and blows the smoke out into your mouth until it's all gone. you inhale, a fast learner, but it's a lot for a new smoker. why do your boxers feel wetter than before?

he watches you cough, your cheeks turning red and your eyes tearing up, with a slightly sadistic smile. a smile that only widens when you recover and say, "can we do that again?"

fun fact about me is that i don’t actually want bottom surgery because i love being a faggot with a tdick and a cunt

i deleted my blogs but i couldn’t stay away lol