Saturday, March 22, 2014

Power Recognized

"You see that bicep, bro. That used to be yours. Take a good long look at it."
"Please, Kyle," I whispered, effetely.
"Please, Kyle," he mocked me. "God you sound so pathetic, LITTLE Richie."
My once little brother had overnight turned the tables on me, gaining or rather switching seven years and a hundred pounds of difference between us. Now he had a car, a girlfriend, and worst of all, all my years of hard earned muscle! But we hadn’t exchanged faces. Mine had gotten younger and his older and everyone just thought it had always been this way. Only I remembered the difference.
"Way I figure, you can worship me at home when I tell you to. Faggot. I bet your little dick is getting hard just thinking about these big guns." He ate and I watched, fascinated by how my own little body betrayed me by getting so excited over my now-huge now-big bro. "Yeah," he said between mouthfuls "We’re definitely gonna do things different, First off, your name will be Faggot. When we’re at home you will answer to this new name and no other. If you want to get older or bigger again, or even have the body type you used to have instead of that little pipe cleaner body I gave you, you will start taking orders. You’ll do chores, clean my clothes, bask in my presence, wash MY car, do as you are told at all times. Basically be my slave in secret. And you will never complain. You do this for several months, LITTLE bro and we’ll talk about getting you some muscle like me. What do you say?"
"Say: Thank you, Sir."
I wanted to fight him, scream at him, make a scene, rush at him with my puny little ineffective arms. He glared at me, my new master, expectantly.
"Yes. Thank you. Sir." I continued to watch him eat, entranced.
"Very good, Faggot." He nodded approvingly. My heart soared.

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