A Family Tradition

Sometimes when you have nothing to do, it’s better to do everything you can do. But, if you can do it, should you? That was a question that Ryan Copplefield asked himself a lot. Growing up in a small town in the middle of nowhere, Maine, was a boring life. Finding things to do was tough, so he had to be tough too. His father has always told him, “make the best of your time, because you never know when you’ll have no time left.” So that’s what he did. At least that’s what he thought he did. In reality, he wasted a lot of his time. Playing video games, working as a wage slave at his day job, skipping out on an education to ponder about life after high school. It wouldn’t be long til he had to figure it all out. Hell, he was graduating in May, only five months away. Being a senior at Whetstone High School wasn’t as great as his peers made it seem to be. They all wished that the end of the year would come quicker, but he prayed that the days would drag on like they had been during the summer.

Summer was heaven to him.

Hunting. Hunting was the main thing he did during the summer. The woods was the one place he could be by himself and away from the world. His dad had shown him the ropes (when he wasn’t being an asshole) a few summers ago. He had even gifted him a hunting knife for his seventeenth birthday earlier that year. Maybe it was a bit too morbid, but he loved the way that skin separated from the fat and muscle as he sliced and detached the hide of animals away from their worldly flesh and bones. Sometimes he wished that he could do the same to himself. Maybe other people if he ever got the chance. Perhaps it was his internal moral instinct that stopped him from ever going through with it though, or maybe the social repercussions. He wasn’t sure.

Pondering on the thought, Ryan sat in his bedroom, alone. It stenches with teenage boy sweat and cigarettes. Smoking wasn’t something that he was proud of doing, but it was addicting after a while. He had started a few months ago when his co-worker, Matt, had offered him one during a break at work. Leaning against the hard wooden headboard of his bed, Ryan fidgeted with the knife his father had gifted him. His mind was plagued with thoughts of attractive women that had come in asking for help with picking out games and gifts for their boyfriends at the store earlier in the day. His fingers ran against the smooth metallic blade. One wrong move and his finger would be cut. One wrong flick of the blade. Would he freak out if he cut his own flesh? He’d never done it before, but it was ever so tempting. How would he react if there was a pretty girl in front of him, begging to be skinned like the animals he had mutilated a few months prior?

“What’re ya doin’?” A familiar voice spoke out, drifting Ryan away from his spiraling thoughts. He hadn’t even registered that his bedroom door had been opened, shut, and now stood before him was his younger brother. He flinched, quickly glancing up at the smaller teen as he stood in front of his bed.

“Nothing. Andrew, get out.”

Ryan snarled at his brother. He hated him. He thought it was hate at least, but late at night his thoughts didn’t reflect that hate. They reflected something… much darker.

“Awh, c’mon. I haven’t seen you come outta your room ever since ya got home. You gotta be doin’ something.” Andrew retorted, taking a seat on the edge of Ryan’s bed. His mattress creaked and Ryan rolled his eyes. What a fatass. He hated Andrew so much. He just wanted to wipe the curiosity off the boy's face and hit him with a harsh punch of the degenerate nature of the world. Ryan shut his eyes. It was taking everything in him not to angrily degrade his brother or to just tell him to shut the fuck up.

“You know what? I was about to do something.”

“Huh, what?”

“I was about to go take a quick hunting trip, maybe shoot some rabbits. You think you’re not too much of a pussy to come with?” The older teen surprised himself with this offer. He wasn’t quite sure what he was trying to do. It felt as if the words just came out on their own, but he went along with it anyway, not wanting to embarrass himself by taking back his words.

“Whatever, I’m not a pussy,” Andrew retorted with a bit of an edge to his tone. He was upset that his brother would even imply such a thing.

Ryan got up from his bed, stretching as his socks touched the dirty, wooden floor. He had discarded the pocket knife in the process, leaving it sitting on his sheets where anyone could take it. After a bit of thought, he leaned over, taking it, flicking the blade back into itself and putting the knife into his right jean pocket. He couldn’t trust Andrew not to fuck with it. His brother's eyes followed him as he stood, his head tilting with question as Ryan stretched and let out a soft yawn.

“Well, come on.”

Ryan spoke, stumbling over to his bedroom door as he opened it and gestured for Andrew to follow. He walked into the living room, scowling with disgust as his father lay asleep in his armchair as Family Guy played on the old, cracked TV in the background. The teen grabbed his shoes off the floor, sliding his boots on as his brother followed, quickly getting the memo. Ryan headed towards the garage, grabbing and struggling to put on a jacket as he unlocked the door and flicked on the overhead light.

“Uhh, are we gonna use dad’s guns?” Andrew chimed out as Ryan headed towards the mounted shotgun on the concrete wall.

“Duh, what else would we use?”

“Bro, we can’t. We’ll get in trouble— dad’s not even awake and we need his permission!”

“Well, why don’t you go and wake him?” Ryan snapped at Andrew, daring him to wake their father. He knew his brother wouldn’t. His father would probably start yelling drunkenly at them both, perhaps getting physical if his obesity wasn’t putting too much of a strain on his bones.

Grabbing the shotgun from the wall, Ryan bent down and grabbed a box of ammo, tossing it to his brother to carry as they made their way out the garage's backdoor and into the woods. It smelt heavily of rain, only having done so yesterday. The air was filled with chirps of birds and the sounds of leaves crunching under the brothers shoes as they headed deeper and deeper into the wilderness. Ryan could almost smell the hesitancy of his brother as they got further and further away from the house. Andrew had neve done something like this without their parents permission before. He knew that Ryan had done this before, but he had never partook in the activities himself. The cold air made the hair on his arms stand up and he grumbled something out about how Ryan should’ve warned him to grab a jacket, but his brother just laughed.

“Here.”

Ryan abruptly spoke out, stopping in his place as they reached the end of the woods that opened into an empty field. He crouched down, pulling his little brother down with him as he positioned the gun on a log and moved onto his stomach to look through the rear sight. Andrew looked at his brother, and then around nervously. The sun was setting and he had heard stories about coyotes in these woods. Any sound he heard behind him was making him jump slightly, but Ryan seemed to be so fearless and he wanted to prove him wrong about being a ‘pussy’.

“Still got the ammo?” Ryan questioned, looking towards his brother as if asking if he was stupid enough to drop the box somewhere.

“Oh uh, yeah,” Andrew handed the box to Ryan as his older brother rolled his eyes. Andrew was so stupid, such a fucking scaredy cat. He loaded the gun, cocking it back as he silently aimed in on his target; a family of deers that had been grazing in the grass of the field. Andrew had sworn he had never seen something so peaceful before. There were two bucks, maybe three or four does, and a beautiful fawn. Their ears perked back at the sound of the shotgun cocking, but they didn’t run. They couldn’t sense the danger that lingered or even fathom what their fate would be.

Ryan seemed so… nonchalant? But, how could he not spare the lives of the family that stood before him? How could he bite his lip with a smirk and adjust his aim at the life that he plans to take?

Before Andrew could speak out a warning to the deer, Ryan took his shot. The deer ran, and neighboring birds flew away from the trees as the bang echoed throughout the forest. Ryan grinned, sitting up with a proud smile as he enjoyed the sight in front of him. Andrew wanted to cry in disgust. He had shot the fawn.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Andrew yelled out in tears.

“What? What? What’s wrong with you?”

“You just- you killed that baby! It was just a baby!”

“Don’t be like that now.” Ryan scoffed at his brother's antics. So he was a pussy. He needed to toughen that boy up.

“I hate you! I hate you!” Andrew began to throw a tantrum, “I’m gonna tell dad and he’s never gonna let you go hunting ever, ever again!” He continued, angrily crying as his brother rolled his eyes at him and snarled at the sight.

“You’re not gonna tell anyone,” Ryan pointed the gun at Andrew, “You’re not gonna tell dad or mom, or even a single soul. Got it?”

“Wha-” Andrew began to speak, but was soon interrupted at the sound of the gun cocking again. His heart dropped and he started to hyperventilate. His head turned to look at the dead fawn again, it seemed to have moved a bit, spasming before it died as blood was staining the grass in a few puddles. Bile rose from Andrew's stomach to his throat to his mouth. He hunched over, vomiting up orange and green chucks from the dinner he had eaten a few hours before. His brothers laugh chimed in the background.

It was a blur. He went from sitting to standing to being pushed roughly against the forest floor, the cold dirt and leaves tickling his arms as goosebumps formed in their wake. Ryan towered over him, his calloused hands holding his arms down as his knee pressed into his crotch.

“I’m gonna toughen you up like how dad toughened me up when I first started going hunting with him a few years ago.”

Andrew swore his heart almost stopped at his brother's words. Was he serious? What was he about to do to him? He lost his faith years ago, but he nearly began to pray to God that some divine force would stop Ryan from doing what he was about to do next. His head turned away from his brother and towards the sky, looking up at the tall branches and leaves as he felt his brother's hands begin to roam over his soft skin, nearly as soft as he imagined a girl’s to be. He wanted to speak out in protest as Ryan groped and grabbed at his chest. As his brother leaned down and mumbled lewd promises into his ear and kissed at his neck.

He swore he was having an out of body experience at this point, trying to imagine himself anywhere else as the older teen flipped him over and began to hump his erection against his clothed ass. He swore he could almost feel what it was like to fly, to be a bird and able to get away from here. But, that wasn’t reality. Reality was his brother yanking his pants down and fingering at his puckered hole with spit covered fingers. Andrew wished he could get away, grab the shotgun, and turn it on his brother.

Pain was an odd feeling. A heavy uncomfortable feeling that you could almost ignore if you tried hard enough to disassociate the thing causing you that pain away from yourself. He had never thought that he would ever feel a pain as bad as this though. As bad as his ass being split open by the head of his brother's dick. Andrew could feel his skin nearly tearing apart as his brother inserted and pushed himself further into the darkness that lies within the smaller teen.

“Help, help... Stop, please, stop…” Andrew didn’t even realize he had been speaking, begging, until Ryan replied.

“Stop, stop! Oh, help me!” Ryan mocked, pushing himself further into his brother until he bottomed out. He couldn’t help but groan at how tight his little brother was. Why had he yearned for a girl for so long when his brother was right here all along? He grinded his hips against Andrew’s small ass, savoring the heat around his cock. A hard contrast compared to the cold air of the wilderness.

Ryan’s hands groped at Andrew’s ass, squeezing the plush flesh as he began to move in and out of the tight hole. He loved how small his brother was compared to him, how he cried underneath him and begged for him to stop and let him go. How he swore he wouldn’t tell their parents.

It wasn’t long before he felt the sweet, sweet release of cum leaving him. His balls tightening up as he hit his orgasm and coated the inside walls of his brother with white. Ryan let out a grunt as he snapped his hips against his brother one last time before finally pulling out all the way. He tucked himself back into his pants, the harsh November air hitting his softening cock for a moment. The older brother roughly pulled his younger brother’s pants up, manhandling him and pulling him to his feet. Andrew seemed so out of it, as if he had accepted what was happening to him, or as if he wasn’t even there anymore entirely.

It didn’t matter to Ryan anyway. What mattered was making sure his brother would keep this little secret of theirs and that his lesson had done its job.

“You’re a tough boy. I didn’t think you’d be able to handle that the way you did,” Ryan seemed to almost praise, a soft contradiction to his earlier harsh demeanor. He wrapped his arms around his little brother, enveloping him in his warmth. “You did such a good job. I’m proud… almost.” He continued, cooing at Andrew as if he was one of the girls that Ryan had dreamed of fooling around with.

Andrew said nothing, trying to process what had just happened to him. The trauma that Ryan had been inflicted with, now being inflicted onto him. A family tradition, it seemed. More like a curse. Ryan released Andrew, bending over to grab the ammo box, closing it shut and handing it towards his little brother as he also grabbed the shotgun.

“Ready to head back?”

“Ye... yeah.”

“Good.”