Making Troy A Man Ch. 04

"It was amazing," he said. "Incredible. I've never seen something so hot."

"I know, Tiger, I know! I could see ya watchin' me, watchin' me... I never saw a look like that in a boy's eyes, oh, Tiger, I love ya watchin' me, I love you, Tiger, I love ya so much..."

"Oh wow, I love you too Gumdrop..."

"Did ya... did ya get somethin' happenin' there, Tiger?" Her eyes were focused on his crotch. Troy realized he was holding his penis. His flaccid, withered, terrified penis.

"Uh, no, Gumdrop, I... I don't know why, I really don't, I... You really were the hottest ever, you gotta believe me..."

"Aw, Tiger, I know. I know. I saw how y' were lookin' at me, I know. I know you were likin' it. Lots. I just wish yer cock was too... But it's ok, Tiger, I know it will come along. I know it'll happen. Just gonna take a bit o' time. Don'tcha worry, Tiger." She paused and giggled. "An' maybe I'll kiss it... Just like a princess... An' I'll break the spell and wake it up."

Troy faked a huge grin.

"Oh, wow, I made a mess here, huh?" she guffawed. "Do you wanna... watch me clean it? A bit? I mean, I wanna... I wanna do everything for ya, Tiger, everything... watch me?"

Troy was thinking. Behind a stupid, eager grin, he was thinking. Looton, Saturday, his cousins and aunt, tractors, horses... He nodded.

Glenda reached between her legs, scooped up a dollop of liquid, and brought it to her mouth. She licked and sucked her hand and fingers sensuously, leering at Troy the whole time. She scooped the juice off of her thighs, sucking her fingers clean after every handful. She giggled and snorted, blushing as she looked longingly at her cousin.

Troy continued faking rapt attention at her actions. His mind was hard at work.

"Mmmm, that was good, Tiger... I like doin' that for ya... If ya like that, I'll do it for ya every time... I wanna do everything for ya, Tiger, jes' absolutely everything..."

"Oh, Gumdrop, wow... Would you?"

"Mmmm, sure, Tiger, I love it... I taste real good, too." She giggled. "You can tell Momma all about this, ok? Just... Just please don't say anything about me cussin' ok? I... I just kinda lost control. I gotta ask the Father fer forgiveness for that, but I'm hopin' He'll understand... I never said nothin' like that before. I'm gonna try to control myself better ok, Troy? Please don't say nothin' to Momma about that?"

"Of course I won't, Gumdrop, don't worry, of course I won't."

"Did ya... Ya liked that, didn't ya, Tiger? I mean, I can tell, I mean..."

"Of course I liked it, Gumdrop! I loved it! Everything about you is so sexy, I love it all!"

Glenda was in a constant state of blushing. She started gathering her clothes and redressing. "Did ya... get anything from that, Tiger? The last bit?"

"Um, a bit, Gumdrop..." he lied. "I think... I think maybe you're wakin' him up. I just hope I can contain myself... so I can... you know, do everything properly."

"It's ok, Tiger. Really, there ain't no pressure. Just anything I can do, anything that's gonna turn ya on, anything at all, really, jus' tell me an' I'll do it, ok? Really, anything."

"I will, Gumdrop. But... Just keep doing what you're doing. I mean it. I love it. It's driving me crazy."

The two gazed at each other as Glenda finished dressing. "Jeepers, I'm gooey down there! I'm gonna need a bath and a change tonight for sure!" she giggled. "We better get back to the chores, huh? Took a bit longer than I figured we was gonna there."

"Sure thing, Gumdrop. Um, what..." he trailed off.

"Go ahead, Tiger."

"Um, what... day is it today?"

Glenda snorted a bit of laughter out. "Oh, jeepers, it's Friday. I guess ya haven't been keepin' track o' the days much, huh?"

"Yeah... Haven't... Friday?" Troy choked up. He had lost track of everything. Slave labour, rape, molestation... That had been the order of almost every waking moment. His lower lip quivered. He fought to keep control of his emotions, but he was nearing a breakdown. Again.

"Oh, Tiger..." Glenda said, mournfully, her face changing to an expression of deepest sympathy and concern.

She came to him gently and embraced him tenderly. He quaked and let out a few sobs. She held him and softly stroked his hair. "Oh, Tiger, it's ok. I know this is hard on ya. I know you miss yer momma. It's ok. You'll be able to talk to her Sunday for sure. It's ok, Tiger. Don't worry about yer equipment, don't worry about nothin'. You'll do fine, everything's gonna be ok. I love ya, Tiger. I'll do anything for ya. I'll give ya such a good rub down tonight, and I'll do whatever ya want. Anything, I promise, just name it. I ain't gonna pressure ya for nothin'. I love ya, Tiger, and I just know yer gonna do just fine."

Troy sobbed a few more times. His heart was being torn apart with despair. But his cousin... he felt sorry for her too. As horrid and disgusting as she was to him, she was really in love with him. And she was nice to him. She was genuinely nice. Kind. Sweet. And she had fallen head over heels in love with him. And that could only mean Troy was going to break her heart. She was the closest thing Troy had to a friend here. His cousin, his bedmate, his rapist. And he was lonely, and feeling sorry for her. He almost completely fell apart.

"Gumdrop," he said tenderly, gathering himself, "Thank you. I love you."

How could he keep up this charade? He had to! There was no other choice! He considered he might even be suffering from the early effects of Stockholm Syndrome. Glenda was nice to him! And after the brutal, physical, predatory manner in which she had raped his mouth his first day on the farm, wasn't this preferable?

He felt like his mind was fragmenting. He had to keep thinking. Keep his sense of himself. Keep focusing on escape.

That evening, he struggled to keep awake. Participated more in the conversation. Watched the news. Paid attention to the weather reports. Tried to memorize any flashes of overhead maps he could see. Made goo-goo eyes at Glenda periodically. Wendy seemed pouty about it. Carol seemed nonplussed. Aunt Lulu seemed pleased as punch. From what he'd heard earlier, Troy calculated that it was best that he and Glenda seem completely infatuated with each other. If that illusion would delay his having to 'service' his other cousins and Aunt, he would maintain it at all cost.

He made a few casual enquiries. Where Looton was, what other dwellings might be in the area. What the locals did for fun. He tried to keep all his probings on a believable, natural level. Nothing too suspicious. He held Glenda's hand beside her on the couch the whole time. Every once in a while he caught a sour expression from Wendy. He noted it carefully. Clearly she was the most dangerous one of the four at this point. Glenda was practically cheerleading for him. Aunt Lulu was happy and relaxed. And Carol didn't seem to care much one way or the other.

Troy took extra care to drink a few glasses of water when no one would notice. He intended to do some sneaking around tonight. And maybe, if a perfect opportunity presented itself, make a break for it. At least he knew how far Looton was, and the general direction. There had to be road signs. If he was desperate enough, he figured he could knock on any farm house door he came by with some pretense of an emergency. Oh well, one thing at a time.

Bedding down this evening was almost a pleasant experience. With his agreement, Glenda offered to masturbate while he watched. He faked an eagerness in that regard, trying to make it seem as though that was more arousing for him than performing cunnilingus on her. In truth, he supposed that it was more arousing, in that it was significantly less nauseating. She did her best to keep quiet as she finger-banged herself before him with lusty abandon. He tried to imagine sexy thoughts, and tugged on his uncooperative member. Glenda squirted all over a towel she had prepared, then lewdly scooped and licked up as much of her own juice as she could. Troy faked rapt attention. But his penis, despite his most desperate urgings, would not participate in the façade. Glenda assured him once again that there was not pressure, and she knew that his heart and his mind were captivated by her display. His penis would catch up in time. Again he was moved with how loving and understanding she seemed.

She then gave him an expert massage again, and Troy faked drifting off to sleep. Real sleep was quick to follow.

***

He awakened in the dark. He was unsure of the time, but his bladder was ready to be emptied. Glenda was snoring like a buzz saw. He wondered how he could possibly have slept through that racket the last few nights.

Quickly, stealthily, silently, he slipped out of bed, down the hall into the bathroom, and quietly relieved himself. Now it was time to do a bit of skulking.

He crept down the hall to where the phone was, past Wendy and Carol's bedrooms, to the alcove next to his Aunt's bedroom. He couldn't have hoped that it would be unlocked, but he had to try anyway. Predictably, he was limited to gazing at it covetously in the dark through the locked glass case. He considered getting a towel or a blanket and softly breaking it, but thought better of it. If he could get a hold of his mother, or the local police, or whomever, he had no idea how long it would take for help to arrive. Moreover, he didn't even really know exactly where he was. If he broke the glass, there would be no way to hide what had occurred. And he had no idea what his Aunt was capable of if she were to discover it. In a place as insane and fictitious as this one seemed, there was no way he could guarantee that the police force here wasn't in on their fucked up rape scenario.

He slunk back down the hall to take a look around.

He noted that Wendy's bedroom door was slightly ajar. He froze. Was she up? Shit! He quickly snuck back towards Glenda's bedroom. He could, after all, just feign that he needed to use the toilet. It was why he had gotten up in the first place.

He was about to reenter Glenda's room when he paused. Her room wasn't locked, and there was no reason why he shouldn't be up and around, was there? What if he was thirsty? Surely he was permitted to get a glass of water... He crept quietly toward the kitchen.

The stairs were a bit creaky, but sticking to the corners, he was able to descend in relative silence. The room felt eerie. There was the front door. Beckoning to him. But if he exited, he didn't have any follow up actions planned. Damn. Best to not get ahead of himself. He was up, he was scouting things out. This was progress.

He turned and saw a glow from the stairs leading to the cellar. There was a light on. His senses all alive and attuned, he crept towards the source. It had to be Wendy. What was she doing up and in the cellar in the middle of the night?

Slowly he approached the staircase and his eyes started to adjust to the glow. He heard breathing from downstairs. Laboured breathing. Surely it was Wendy. What the hell was she doing?

He turned and slowly bent down the staircase, trying to get a view of what was occurring downstairs. Peering around the corner of the wooden staircase, he indeed spied Wendy. It was obvious who it was from her wavy brown hair. She was masturbating. That much was also obvious.

"Fuck me, stud," she hissed. She appeared to be plunging a dildo into and out of her vagina. Seated on a cot, holding a flashlight in her left hand, she gazed at an open magazine that rested on a chest before her. "Yeah, fuck me."

She took her right hand off the dildo, quickly flipped the page, and continued thrusting it inside of herself. As off-putting a sight as this was, Troy was intrigued. A flashlight was certainly a valuable asset. And if Wendy had taken the time to sneak downstairs to masturbate, surely there was something forbidden about it?

Wendy grunted and snarled, bucking her hips rapidly. Clearly she was orgasming. Then she gasped a few times, and got her breathing under control. She then placed the flashlight beside her, lifted the edge of the chest, and slid the magazine underneath. Then she turned the flashlight off.

In the shroud of darkness, Troy crept away, concealing himself behind the couch. In a short period of time, Wendy ascended the staircase, and walked though the kitchen, then up the staircase towards her bedroom. Troy waited a few minutes, then began slinking towards the cellar. Slowly, carefully, he climbed down into the pitch blackness of the cellar. He made his way towards where the cot was. He found it, and the chest. He fumbled around searching for the flashlight. He was unsure if Wendy had taken it with her or not. She might have it with her in her bedroom. He didn't think Glenda kept one in her room, but made a note to ask her. I mean, if there was an emergency, like a fire or something, wasn't it important to know that?

After some time, he felt the flashlight hanging from a hook. Well, there was one downstairs at all times it seemed. This was a good thing. He flicked it on and searched under the chest. Stowed there were two magazines. Troy smirked to himself. One was titled, "Meat Locker," and featured two muscular studs in a locker room with towels draped over their obvious erections. The other was entitled, "Stud Ranch," and depicted a shirtless cowboy with a hairy chest wearing jeans and a pair of chaps with a coiled rope thrown over his shoulder. Instantly, Troy's penis began erecting, and within moments was hard as a rock, throbbing, and pointing to the ceiling.

Troy was a bit taken aback, as sex had been the furthest thing from his mind since his mother had caught him in the act, such as it was. Just looking at the covers of these magazines, his cock was thundering with lust. His testicles tightened and his scrotum clenched. His pulse was quickening. Fuck, he was horny as all hell. Instantly.

He wanted to move on and see what else he could find, but found himself unable to stop staring at the cover of "Meat Locker." There were two men featured on the cover. Troy had to see if there were two men featured on the inside pages.

Sitting down, he pulled down his pyjamas and grasped his rigid little prick and began pumping as he held the flashlight in his left hand, similar to the way Wendy just had. He flipped the pages. His dick raged with hungry lust. There were indeed two men. In a locker room. Quickly discarding their towels. Sucking each other's cocks. Tongue kissing. Jerking their own cocks. Jerking each other's cocks. Rubbing their cock heads together as they French kissed. Troy was about to go out of his mind. Frantically he beat his little cock, staring longingly at the two large, thick cocks in the photographs. They were both at least twice his length. One probably almost three times as long. And thick. Circumcized. Gorgeous. The smaller of the two cocks reminded him of Kevin's. The bigger one was maybe a bit thinner, but a monster in length. It had to be ten or eleven inches. These were exactly the sort of studs Troy craved to fellate. Troy wished he could burst in on the scene, surprise these two gorgeous men, fall to his knees, and start sucking them both like a vacuum.

Troy beat his cock like a madman, totally engrossed. He felt a slug of semen building up in the base of his dick. He kept flipping pages, hoping to find one of one or both of the studs shooting their loads.

"Whatcha doin', Troy?" came Wendy's teasing voice from the top of the stairs. Troy almost jumped out of his skin.

"Jesus Christ!" he uttered, hoarsely, trying to keep quiet as possible as he bolted to his feet, almost dropping the flashlight as he tried to cover himself.

"That's two for blasphemy," said Wendy as she came down the stairs, deliberately, one step at a time, as her tits bobbled and her belly shimmied beneath her nightshirt. "Found my little stash, did ya, Troy? Thought I heard somethin'. Sure enough, here ya are. Beatin' yer li'l pud jes' like a horny li'l faggot would, huh? Which one d' ya pick? Betcha anything it's 'Meat Locker.'"

Troy was standing, terrified. His erection had beat the hastiest of retreats, and was now trying to hide inside his abdomen. His heart was pounding in fear, he was instantly nauseous and sweating.

Wendy looked at the magazine briefly. "Yup, 'Meat Locker.' Jes' like a faggot would. A sick li'l cocksuckin' faggot. That's what ya are, ain't it, Troy? A faggot? Y' might have Momma and silly ol' Glenda fooled, but I know. Faggot. Well, let's have a talk, you 'n' me, huh? That ok with you, faggot?"

"What..." Troy stammered, trying to steel himself. "What do you wanna talk about?" His cock twitched oddly at her words, and an unpleasant thrill ran through him like a cold breeze from a morgue.

"Well, faggot, first things first. I know what ya are. Y'couldn't fool me before, and ya sure as heck can't now. So while we're talkin'," Wendy said, lifting up her night shirt, "Why don'tcha come here an' get yer tongue into my pussy. Glenda says yer some kinda magic pussy-eater or somethin' an' it ain't fair that she's been getting' all the action since ya got here. So get t' lickin' an' we'll have our talk. Got it, faggot?"

She had her nightshirt raised above her waist and her legs parted slightly, revealing a thick, tangly brown bush. Troy was panicking. This was inconceivable. Things were maybe starting to go his way. And now...

"I don't think so, Wendy," he said suddenly, his mind working overtime.

"How's that now, faggot?" she asked, haughtily.

"Ok, you caught me jerking off. So what, I caught you doing the same. I'll bet there's something not allowed about the whole thing or you wouldn't have been sneaking downstairs to do it."

Wendy paused. Troy knew he had better be careful here. He knew she was the most dangerous one, and she had him in a precarious position.

"Yeah, sure," she replied. "But I ain't the one that's a faggot. That's supposably all in love with Glenda and her cooch. The one that's been fakin' the whole thing. An' I c'n prove it by bringin' everyone down here right now."

"Yeah? Well how did these mags get here in the first place? And what the hell is with the 'Meat Locker' thing anyway? Two guys? You have a thing for queers? How else would you explain these magazines here that I found huh? Betcha Aunt Lulu wouldn't like to find out about these too much, huh? Bet she'd find a dildo if she searched your room too, you supposed to have one of those?"

Wendy paused. She let her nightshirt fall to cover her bush. "All right, Troy," she began in an irritated tone, "You ain't as dumb as I figgered. Looks like we got a bit of a Mexican standoff here. So I'm gonna level with ya. Yer right, I ain't supposed to have them magazines. The naked boy one wouldn't be so bad as the faggot one. So we both got somethin' t' lose here. So let's chat. See if we can't come t' some sorta understandin'."

Troy's heart was pounding in his chest. Adrenaline was surging in his veins. He shifted the flashlight to his right hand in a firm grip, prepared to use it as a weapon if it became necessary. He remembered his Aunt as well as Glenda's bear-like strength, and surprising agility. Escape was impossible with her at the stairs as she was. He was determined not to get raped again, whatever it cost him. Maybe she did just want to talk? Troy was extremely wary, all his senses on hyperalert.

"All right," Troy swallowed, "Let's talk."

Wendy sat down on the second stair, her legs apart. Troy could almost see all the way up her nightshirt, not that he had the least bit of an urge to look there. Her thighs and calves were thick and muscled. There was definitely fat there, but her legs were clearly powerful. Her medium length brown hair spilled about her shoulders.

"Right, then," she rumbled. "I ain't gonna fib to ya since I don't see no reason fer it. I'm just gonna be straight up. Y' c'n tell Momma what we said here, but I'm jes' gonna deny it. An' she'll believe me more 'n you any day. An' yer probably smart enough t' know that them magazines are gonna be gone before mornin'. So lets have a straight-up chat, you 'n' me, an' then we'll jes' go back t' bed like nothin' happened. I won't say nothin' about it, an' neither will you. Deal?"