Pain Throughout
{ OOC. ( .... ) Means it's in a flashback. And a large portion of this story takes place around the main characters childhood. ( /// ) Means that it is back to the present time. This is my first time ever writing an erotic story. -Is kind of Conservative- And I would love a review. Thanks.}
I walked past crowds of cats and dogs. Each stopping in their tracks to stare at me. It's been like that since my feathers grew in. Don't get me wrong-I'm not vain. I just need to make sure my feathers are perfectly glossy and shapely. I saw my reflection in a window of some store. I smiled back at myself. I'd fuck myself in a heart beat if I could. Brushing back a blue-tipped lock of in with the rest of my hair. As I modeled for myself, I tried to make an account of that new designer shampoo I'd never get to try. Some reason I felt like crying.
One of the workers who was watching me with an open mouth, and a growing erection in his work uniform. Blowing a kiss to him, and a suggestive wink, I returned back to my walking, my trail of perfectly manicured Peacock feathers trailing gracefully from my tight rear.
I was looking for someone. My addiction had racked up a huge debt. And with the threat of castration, this gorgeous son of a beast, has to find the quickest way to clear it up.
...
Looking back, I guess I was a mess. With hazy blue eyes and a messy crop of hair. I shuddered at the memory of how ill-groomed I was. When I was eight, My father-mother was the hallmark king. Plateful of cookies and kisses for my boo-boos. Until one day, he met some guy he met online, ran off and had a whole mess of babies with him. My father-father spiraled into depression, and buried himself into his work, and when not working drinking and pilling his way into a drunkards bliss.
And than IT came. My father-father had met a girl through work. She was a bitch of a thing. With a cruel tongue and a viscous fist. When she came to live, she brought IT with her. I could forgive her words, and maliciousness, but IT could never be forgiven.
The two intruders into my life took over.
///
I craved the intoxicating smell of the drug. It never let me feel like a victim when I took it. I wished that the sidewalk never ended. And that I wouldn't have to go there. Because I knew because of my insatiable craving for the drug, I'd be giving up everything. Why? Because I rather like me cock thank you. I choked back a tear. What happens to all the unwept tears? Do they pool in the backs of our souls, drowning it into a salty abyss?
A gaggle of girls flirted and squealed at me. I had time. I gave them a wave of my hand, and a downcast sexy stare. The street signs made me feel nostalgic.
...
IT was charming. IT was smart. IT seemed to think it owned me. He was cute calico of a cat. With softest fur spotted in different shades. When he came to live with me, I adored IT. I knew that if I could have anyone be my brother it would be him.
IT was good at everything. IT could draw, run, be the best at any sport without ever trying. At first I admired everything about IT.
At first IT just did little things. Like watching me undress for a shower, putting his paw down a few centimeters in my pants. And touching my chest whenever he got the chance. For some reason, in me feeble eight-year old mind, is that these where normal things that a brother did.
My step-mother made it apparent that I should spend every waking moment with IT. She almost seemed obssessive about it.
Than things got worse.
IT would grope me, blow in my ears, constantly walk naked in my bedroom. One night, after my step-mom got done yelling about how I need to tighten the lid on the soda bottle, I went up to my bedroom.
IT was there laying in my bed, His dick in his hands. I was so shocked I couldn't move. It pumped harder and his face twisted in pleasure, IT's dick was pink and unsheathed, it was nice and full. IT panted, he was going all out. It's lust stricken eyes caught mine. He huffed, and turned his body so that I could see everything It was doing. Beads of Pre-cum streamed down it's length. Without finishing, It got up, I stood there in my doorway dumbfounded at what my 'perfect' big brother was doing. He closed and locked my door with a key. (Which also surprised me, as seeing my door never had a lock) And put the key up high, where I could not reach.
Puddles of his cum was spilled on the floor. It licked it''s lips, when he turned back to face me.
"Want to play with me?" It had said. His catty eyes narrowed at me as he pushed me on the bed. "My sweet sweet little peacock.." He purred on top of me. The vibrations going through my small body, sending me into a timid panic.
You can guess what happend next.
It had raped a child, not once. But many times after that. It hurts whenever I think of it's name. I remember the bad times. If I didn't give him what he wanted when he wanted, he would pull out chunks of my beautiful feathers. And in that itself is a sin not even God can forgive.
It became so obsessed with having sex with me, when I was ten, he refused to let me go to school. The bitch agreed with her son fully, convincing my abscent father that Independant study would be the best thing for me.
Sometimes, my friends from school had called, asking where I was, either my It or my step-mom would feed them a lie. And eventually they gave up. It never let me out of my bedroom. It constantly locking me in there, with no food or water for the day, but he was considered enough to leave a lighter and a plastic bag full of what would soon become my addiction.
The years after became a blur of penetration, tears and the numbing smoke marijuana.
////
I saw a plastic bag floating in the wind. It reminded me of that one movie I didn't understand. I tried to think of some way that would tie into my life or current situation I was about to get myself back into. But my body ached to loudly for the depressants.
The apartment was in view, I checked the address I had conveniently wrote on the palm of my hand. Now I would just have to go up the stairs, through the door, and never leave it. Ever.
I made sure it was the right one. And I opened the creeky door.
The apartment was well furnished. Charming in it's own depressing way, and eerily clean. There he was, sitting on the sofa, waiting.
"Youv'e made quite a debt for yourself" A voice said.
"I thank you for that."
"Your welcome." He retorted sarcastically.
There was an awkward pause.
"I cleared it all up you know. The debt you made." He said, shifting in his seat.
"...." I didn't know whether to just blow off the deal, and get my dick cut off and never see my precious drugs again, or complete our agreement.
"You can take off your clothes. There's scissors on the table. Cut them up, you don't need them anymore." Hearing it in person made my heart sink lower than it ever has.
Like a beaten dog, I picked up the scissors. I did not meat eyes with him, when I came back to the living room to strip for him. I removed the shorts and the shirt. He could see everything, smiling like the Cheshire cat, as I cut my beloved clothes into useless strips of cloth.
I am prideful, but damn I needed a fix. And he knew that. What used to be my clothes lay tattered on the floor. On all fours, I crawled on my hand and knees to where he was sitting. I looked up at him, his eyes as flared as they where when we were kids.
The dam in my eyes broke, and tears flowed out. I put a hand on his furry knee, and than another on his crotch, than slowly pulled myself onto his lap, my tail feather flared out to there widest, in a lacy colorful rainbow behind me. Tears fell onto my naked body.
I closed my eyes to kiss him. I hated his taste. His flavor. His skin. I hated him.
So I kissed harder. I gave him what he wanted. As much as he wanted. He paws caressed the small blue and green feathers on my back leading down to the full half-circle rainbow framing us, as our soft lips crashed in a crazed teary fury.
I broke the kiss, my eyes still not connecting with his.
"Welcome back, Baby Brother."