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Mastering Alvin

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I am back again, this time with something a little bit different. Still Alvon but an slight AU Alvon. Forgive me if it's not great, it's like 5:00 am so yeah I've not had much sleep.

Bah, Who needs sleep? I want you guys to be happy

This will be rated M (No surprise there)

This fan fiction will contain

Incest

Yaoi lemon

scenes of bondage

sado-masochism

etc.

It will contain some swearing but it is the story of a safe, loving, consensual, dominant/submissive relationship. A nice little story about a fucked up family "that's fucked up in a good way.

Please enjoy and don't forget to review

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Chapter 1

Let me start out by saying that I'm not much of a writer. Back when I was growing up, I had dreams of becoming a famous author, writing fantastic science fiction stories that rivalled the best that were ever written. I'd wander the bookstore, closing my eyes and seeing my book sitting on the rack in front for the best sellers. People would stand in a line that snaked halfway around the mall just to let me sign their copy, just like I did the one time I got to meet the greatest of them all, mighty Asimov himself. I even had a ream of paper a teacher gave me on my last day of fifth grade. I started that summer with the goal that by the end of it, I'd have all five hundred pages filled with my first novel.

I filled ten of them.

It's not that my dream died, it's just that my life changed. Life has a way of doing that, changing in the ways that you least expect it at the times that you never see it coming. I guess afterwards you can look back and imagine that all the signs were there if you could only have seen them. I've been doing that a lot these days.

Some people might think that I never sat down and started page 11 because I didn't have much of a story to tell. That's what I used to tell people, that I wanted to be a writer but I was just waiting for the right story to come along. The truth of the matter is that I've had a story to tell, a good one, and I've had one ever since I put my pencil down mid-sentence on that June day so long ago.

I just didn't think anyone wanted to hear it. But then, in one of those strange twists of fate, I should come across this site. I don't even remember exactly how I stumbled in here in the first place, but as I read story after story after story, the only thing I could think was if I had actually found a group of people that might want to hear my story. It took me a few months to work up the courage to do this, and if somehow you are reading this you know that I managed to push that send button.

I don't know why I'm so nervous. I am completely convinced that not a single one of you is going to believe a word of this. Heck, if I read this story, I'd have a hard time believing it. So what would be the point of me trying to insist that everything you're about to read is completely true? Believe what you like, my goal is not to convince all of you that there is a truth out there that you might only have dared to hope existed.

Get to the story, you say?

Then let's go back thirty years or so, to a June day when my life changed forever.

I hated it here. It was too hot and way too sticky, and we didn't have any air conditioning. There were too many bugs, and not just the little annoying flies and mosquitoes that I was used to when we lived in California. These were big bugs, the kind that made me shiver. I never was the kind of kid that liked bugs. Florida sucks.

I knew early in the morning that this day was going to be a real scorcher, because when I woke up at the ungodly hour of six, the sheets were clinging to my body as though I had crawled into bed after forgetting to dry myself off from swimming. Six would have been normal if it were a school day, but school was over for the summer, and it was my god given right as a ten year old boy to sleep for as long as I felt like it. Trouble was, it was so hot that I didn't feel like it anymore.

I sat up in bed, peeling the sheets away from my skin, noticing only then that somehow I had shed my pyjamas during the night and had nothing left on except my underwear. They were tangled up with the blanket on the floor. I was about to put them on and then decided they weren't worth it, it was too hot to get dressed anyway. I picked my glasses up from the nightstand and scanned the floor. Had to check for bugs, they had a way of crawling up through the floorboards especially at night. I saw a beetle so big three weeks ago that I screamed until Dave came into the room and smashed it with a broom. It was yellow inside.

It seemed safe enough, so I got out of bed and walked quietly across the bare wooden floor, watching out for the places where I knew the floor squeaked. Back in California we had a house big enough that Alvin had his own room, but that had changed when we moved. I could tell that Alvin was still sleeping because he was snoring just a little bit, which was kind of funny but I kept myself from laughing. He had kicked off his blanket too and was laying all spread out on his bed just wearing his underpants too. But that was normal for him; he didn't wear pyjamas any more. He told me he was too old for them now that he was sixteen. Alvin didn't like sharing a room with me, but I didn't mind.

I managed to get out of the room without waking him up. Except for those sounds that insects make when its hot out, the way that you hear a low buzz that gets louder for a few seconds and then fades away, the house was silent. Dave was already gone, at work and wouldn't be back until late. I was glad that he decided we didn't need babysitters anymore now that Alvin was sixteen, since it meant that we could pretty much do what we wanted. I pushed the door to the one bathroom in the house open and barely had my underwear down before I couldn't hold it back anymore.

I didn't like the bathroom here. It was nothing like our bathroom back in California. That house had three bathrooms and they were all nice and clean. This one was kind of dirty, no matter how much you tried to clean it. Dave tried to make it look nicer when I wouldn't take a shower at first, and he sat there for hours scrubbing the tile and the tub, but it didn't make a difference, it still looked dirty. I took a shower anyway because I felt bad that he tried so hard.

I don't know how long I stood there before I heard a shout and a crash from the bedroom. I pulled my underwear up as I ran to find out what happened. Alvin was sitting up in bed, wide eyed.

"One of those fucking bugs just ran right over me!"

I recoiled, checking the floor in front of me, but I didn't see it. I looked back up at him; he was all wide-eyed and scared. He looked at me and his face quickly melted into a scowl.

"What're you looking at?"

"Nothing," I said, backing up a couple of steps, a little smile creeping across my face as thoughts of sweet justice filled my head. "I thought there was a girl here."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know, I heard a scream and it sounded like a girl."

His eyes narrowed. "You are so fucking dead, Si." He curled up like a cat about to pounce, and I made a mad dash from the room, with him in sudden pursuit. I laughed as he chased me around the house, over and over again since it didn't take long to run the whole way around, yelling about how dead I was going to be. He eventually caught up to me when I tripped trying to go around the kitchen table, pinning me down to the linoleum floor on my stomach and sitting on my lower back. I didn't mind, the linoleum felt good because it was a little cool and I was really sweaty from running.

"Now you're gonna get it," he said as he grabbed the waistband of my underwear.

"Nooo, not that!"

I didn't really expect that he wouldn't do it. He yanked, hard, driving them up the crack of my ass and crushing my balls to my front. I howled, not because it really hurt that bad, but because it was fun to howl when we played like this. He rolled off of me.

"I'd kick your ass if it wasn't so hot." He laid down on the linoleum next to me for a few minutes while we cooled off.

"You want a pop-tart?" he asked. I nodded. He lifted himself up and went over to the cabinet to take them out. I watched him go. For as much as he kept telling me that I was going to die and that he was going to kick my ass, I knew he never really meant it. I mean, he was my big brother and all, so I looked up to him in all the ways that little brothers usually do. But I think it was something more. As I watched him get the pop-tarts out, I remembered the time when I was eight, when a group of kids decided that I would be good to beat up on. He came over, but instead of just saying he was going to kick their asses like he always did with me, he really did. He got in a lot of trouble for it too, but he told me that night that no one picks on his little brother.

"Here, puke-face," he said, throwing the package over to me. I ate it sitting on the floor while he sat at the table. "Whatcha want to do today?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. It's too hot to go outside."

"Yeah," he answered. "I'm gonna watch TV." It was weird, the way he told me like that before he left the room, almost as if he wanted me to come with him. I didn't much feel like watching TV though; I wanted to work on my story. I finished my pop-tart and went back to our room, taking out the stack of paper from the bottom drawer of the desk, squaring it neatly and picking out a sharp pencil.

I stared at the paper without writing anything for what seemed like hours. I knew the word; they called it writer's block. I had written ten pages about this spaceship and the people that were on it that were going to some mysterious part of the galaxy to get something. I just couldn't figure out what they were trying to get and why they wanted to go there, and I couldn't think of anything else to write about. I tried a couple of things but erased them after just a few words. I erased so hard on the last one that I tore a hole in the paper and had to re-write the whole page over again.

"Can I read it yet?"

I hadn't even heard Alvin come in, I was too busy copying.

"No."

"Come on, I won't laugh or anything, I promise."

"I just wanna finish the first chapter, that's all."

"Yeah," he said. He laid down on his back with his hands folded under his head and stared silently at the ceiling. I finished my copying, both of us not saying a word. I was in the middle of actually writing a new sentence when he spoke.

"I'm bored. Let's do something."

"I'm writing," I answered.

He didn't say anything for a moment. "I got an idea of something to do."

"I said I'm writing," I growled.

"We can do this for just a little bit and then you can go back to writing if you want," he offered.

"I wanna finish this."

Then he said something really weird. It was in a very different voice than he usually used, very serious, like the one when he told me that no one picks on his little brother.

"Please, Simon."

I put down my pencil and looked back at him a little annoyed. "What do you want to do?"

He kept staring at the ceiling. "Never mind," he said quietly.

I groaned. "C'mon, you made me stop already."

"Well, I just..." he trailed off, and then took a deep breath. "I thought we might just do a game, like one where, ummm, you tie me up." He looked over at me. "You know, to see if I can get out of it."

I made a face. "You want me to tie you up?"

"No, well, just to see if I can get out of it, you know? Like Houdini."

"They used chains and stuff for him."

"I was just thinking, that's all."

I put my pencil down on the stack of paper, shrugging. "If you want, I guess."

"Ok," he said, sitting up. "But I got to show you how to do it right."

"I know how," I said boastfully. He didn't answer, grabbing his boots from the closet and pulling out the laces. I watched him curiously as he threw them on the bed and then grabbed a few of his dirty sweat socks from the floor and threw them on the bed too. He sat down again, taking two the socks and tying the toe ends together in a knot.

"Come here," he said. Curious, I got up from the chair and sat down on the bed next to him.

"Ok, here's how you do it right," he said, picking up one of the shoelaces. "First, you tie my hands behind my back, but you got to do it a special way." He picked up my hands and placed them together in front of me. "You tie a knot around them first like this," he said, demonstrating but leaving them loose, "and then you wrap it around like a figure eight like this, then you use the rest to wrap in the middle like this." I nodded as he undid the shoelace from my wrists. "Then you do the same to my feet, but leave some extra so that you can tie my feet to my hands when I lie on my stomach." He rolled onto this stomach, bending his legs back so that his feet touched his butt. "Make sure everything is really tight, I don't want this to be too easy."

"Uh huh," I nodded, looking over at the socks. "What are those for?"

"Oh, ummm," he said looking at them. "The one tied together is so that you can gag me."

I wrinkled my nose. "Why?"

"Cause its part of being tied up," he said, in that tone that older brothers reserve for their little brothers that don't understand the ways of the world. "Use the other one to blindfold me. Make sure you put those on tight too and knot them so that they don't come off."

"Ok," I said slowly. This was getting kind of strange. "How long do you have to get out?"

An odd look came over his face. "I dunno; just leave me until I get out."

I looked at him in surprise. "What if you can't get out, then you'd have to stay tied up all day."

"Then I'd have to stay tied up all day," he repeated, almost like he was talking at me instead of talking to me. "I'll just stay in my underwear because it's too hot to get dressed."

"Whatever," I shrugged. He rolled over onto his stomach and put his hands behind his back, his wrists crossed.

"Remember, do it nice and tight."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time." I started wrapping the shoelace around the way he told me, pulling it tight on each pass. This might actually be kind of fun, having Alvin tied up, especially if I did it so that he really couldn't get out. Then I could do whatever I wanted to him and he wouldn't be able to stop me. Not that I wanted to do anything really mean, I just wanted to get even and tickle him. An evil little grin spread across my face. Or maybe give him a really big wedgie and leave him like that because all tied up he wouldn't be able to get it out. I giggled.

"What's so funny?" he asked as I cinched the shoelace tight.

"Nothing. Is that tight enough?" I watched him try to twist his wrists and then pull them through the shoelace. He didn't get anywhere.

"Yeah, that's pretty good," he said. "Now my feet." He crossed his ankles, and I used the other lace to tie them together the same way, wrapping around in figure eight's that then wrapping a little more around the middle. "Don't forget to leave the extra," he reminded me.

"I know, I know," I said, pulling the shoelace tight and knotting it off. He pulled his ankles back so that they rested close to his hands. I pulled the extra lace and tied it off to his hands. "How's that?"

He pulled his ankles back. "Too loose."

"It's good enough," I answered. "It's not like you're gonna be able to untie it or anything."

"Just make it tighter, ok?"

I rolled my eyes and untied the shoelace. For a moment, I couldn't figure out how to make sure that his ankles would be right up against his hands, and then I had the idea to lean on his legs to force them closer and keep them there while I tied them off. He grunted as I leaned on him. "You told me to make it tighter," I said as I finished and got off of him.

"Yeah, it's ok," he answered. I watched him strain a little against the laces, but again, nothing gave an inch. "Do the blindfold." He lifted his head up, his eyes closed, and I lined up the sock. In a moment, it was knotted off behind his head.

"Can you see?" I asked curiously.

"Nope," he answered. "Just a tiny little bit of light."

I picked up the other two socks that were knotted together. They were dirty and had the unmistakable musky odour of old feet. "You really want me to gag you with this? It's kinda gross."

He took a deep breath. "It's ok, just put the knot in my mouth and then tie it off really tight so that I can't spit it out." He lifted his head from the pillow again, his mouth opened wide. Up until now, I didn't feel strange about any of this; it was just a kind of game to me. When he opened up his mouth like that, it stopped feeling like just a game to me, like there was something different happening. It was just a feeling, though. He had to open his mouth even wider as I pushed the knot into his mouth. He put his head back on the pillow and I tied it off behind his head.

"Say something," I said, curious to hear what he sounded like gagged.

"Mmmffmmm," he answered. I could barely hear him.

"Cool," I said. "It really works. Try to get out." I slid off the bed and stood up, looking at my brother, that strange feeling suddenly getting stronger, taking shape and lodging itself firmly in my stomach. My idea of tickling him or leaving him with a massive wedgie didn't hold so much appeal any more. I watched him strain against the laces, trying to pull and tug, but he quit before he had tried for very long and then laid still on the bed. I felt like I should gloat or something because I had tied him up so that he couldn't get out, but that didn't feel right either.

"Can you get out?" I asked him. He shook his head no. "Then I'll untie you."

He shook his head no and grunted into the gag. I took it out anyway.

"What are you doing?" he asked, sounding a little annoyed.

"Untying you," I said.

"Don't. I wanna get out on my own."

"But you said you couldn't."

"I wanna keep trying." I didn't answer him. The feeling of strangeness was getting stronger. "Just put the gag back and let me try." He tilted his head back and opened his mouth again. I sighed and stuffed the knot back in his mouth and tied it back off, but not quite as tight as the last time.

"I'm gonna write," I said. He didn't answer, lying still on the bed, and I went back to the desk, picking up my pencil and trying to remember where I had left off. It was right in the middle of a sentence. I read the words, but couldn't remember at all what I was going to say afterward.

For five minutes I stared at the paper and then groaned in frustration, turning around to look at Alvin. He was moving around a little, I could see him trying to find the knot with his fingers. I smiled, because the knot was on the other side of his hands where he couldn't reach it anyway, but them the smile faded from my face again. This just seemed... mean, to leave him all tied up like that. I tried to imagine what it would be like, not being able to move much or see anything and having to suck on that big hunk of dirty sock. Didn't seem like much of a game to me.

I turned back to the writing, sharpening my pencil, straightening out the stack of paper, trying to go back and read the ten pages that I already knew by heart anyway. But none of it helped. More and more I found myself turning around to stare at Alvin, more and more unable to turn away and go back to my story. He hadn't made any progress at all in getting out and he had been like that for over an hour.

I finally got out of my chair and stood next to him. His whole body was covered with sweat. His hands and his feet had turned a dark shade of red that sent another twinge through my stomach. Before, I hadn't thought twice about the fact that he wasn't wearing anything but his underwear. I mean, we were brothers and we shared the same room, I had seen him in his underwear or even naked a million times. But somehow, with him all tied up like that, the image of him being so exposed sent another twinge of weirdness through my stomach.

He started whimpering a little, and I snapped out of my thoughts. "Do you want me to untie you?" I said quickly, getting nervous that I had left him like that for way too long already. He didn't move for a moment, and then he started to shake his head no.

"Your hands are all red," I said to him, my voice a little shaky, "and they feel kinda cold. I'd better let you out." He kept shaking his head no and making noises into the gag, but I picked the knot loose and pulled the sock out of his mouth. He coughed a couple of times.

"Why'd you do that?" he asked, sounding angry.

I got scared. "Cause your hands are all red and everything and..."

"Put it back, I wanna get out on my own!"

"I don't wanna do this anymore," I said nervously, untying the blindfold. He blinked as it came away from his face, looking over at me, his eyes fiery.

"C'mon, just put them back."

I shook my head and started working picking the knots loose around his hands. All his pulling and straining had made them really tight, and it was hard to pick them apart. He let me work on them for a minute or so and then suddenly rolled on to his side away from me.

"Don't do that," I said, exasperated.

"Don't let me out," he said, not sounding angry. "I wanna get out on my own.

"You're not going to get out, it's too tight." I reached over him and tried to grab at his hands, but he rolled over again so that he was lying on top of them. I pushed him in the side to try and get him to roll back over, but he wouldn't budge.

"Just... just a little while longer."

"Why?" I asked. He didn't answer. "Doesn't it hurt?"

"A little, but I don't care."

"This is really weird," I said. "I don't wanna do this anymore."

"Ok," he sighed. I watched him roll back over onto his stomach. With a renewed fervour I gradually worked the knots loose around his hands, unwinding the shoelace until he was able to pull his hands apart and his feet rested back on the bed. I got off the bed, backing away.

"You do the rest," I said "I'm gonna watch TV."

He didn't answer, and I left. I turned on the TV, but the cartoons were already over for the morning, except for the little kid ones on PBS. It didn't matter; I didn't really care what I watched. I just wanted to stop thinking about how strange Alvin had been acting. He came into the living room, a towel slung over his shoulder.

"I'm gonna take a shower," he announced. I shrugged.

The water was on for a long time.