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Barry Lowe

Sold By My Stepdad

These carpenters had all the right tools to make Brady happy.

Erotica. Brady is a bundle of confusion. Even though he’s bulked up his body at the gym, his stepdad and his stepbro hate him because he’s majoring in Costume Design at university. His stepdad wants him to butch up because everyone thinks he’s gay including the construction workers remodeling a room in their home. His whole world comes crashing down when his stepdad insists he grow some balls and confront the slack workers. But if his stepdad’s a bastard there may be others ready to pick up the pieces of his shattered ego.


Exclusive to Amazon Kindle and Kindle Unlimited.


eBook Cover Price: 2.99

Length: 8774 words

Gay erotica, Gangbang

Heat rating: 5


Excerpt

Deke, my younger stepbrother is favorite because he’s a chip off the old block, a blood son, a younger version of the old man, right down to the arrogant asshole personality. Conversely, I’m a bit on the ‘soft’ side. I’m not gay if that’s what you’re thinking, although I have experimented a little. I don’t know what I am…probably too timid for either gender.

My major is Costume Design, adding to the ridicule. Deke constantly repeats, “Ooh, that’ll get you a good job in the big, wide world of real life.” Like he’d know about the big wide world…he’s a corporate raider, for crying out loud. He walked straight out of high school into a job at his dad’s firm.

He might be right though. Problem is I don’t know whether I am cut out for real life. That’s precisely why my stepdad—I could never bring myself to call him ‘dad’ even though my mom told me it would help our relationship and make life easier for her—decided I needed toughening up. I called him Karl. He was of the opinion I should join a gym to build up my body. For ‘body’ read ‘masculinity.’ And not just any gym, the gym that his company part owns and where Deke works out. I lasted exactly three visits, after which no amount of threats, cajoling or blackmail would get me back through the doors. I likened the gym to a medieval torture chamber.

Karl let my easy capitulation rest for a while, although it was another black mark against my masculinity, or lack thereof. I could read what a letdown I was in his eyes like a headline in the morning newspaper. My brother took every opportunity to ridicule my manhood, stopping just short of calling me a faggot, although I know he wanted to. It wasn’t long before he did finally use the F word.

We’d argued bitterly over the family’s dubious and ruthless business practices. When the word was used, that was something, like my sexuality, we always disagreed upon. “I’m not a faggot!” I yelled in response.

“Of course not, Brady,” he sneered, grabbing a handful of his crotch. “Faggots are at least useful for something.”

Karl snickered, not an ounce of reprimand in his face. He beamed his approval at what Deke had said and done. Sighing, he turned to me, “If you won’t man up at the gym, I don’t know what we’re gonna do with you.”

Strangely enough, I did like working out. It made me feel good about myself. I just didn’t like Karl’s gym, which treated its customers as if they were trainees in boot camp. If I’d wanted that sort of regimented instruction, I would have joined the Army. As there’s not a militaristic bone in my body I joined a more down-market establishment where the approach was sufficiently hands-on to get me started before I was left to progress at my own pace.

Knowing neither Karl nor Deke would approve, I tried to keep my burgeoning new body hidden beneath layers of loose-fitting clothing. Soon, however, my brother noticed. He was startled by the change in me. Not in my personality, but in my body mass and musculature. I had definition. I found I had a small number of admirers who wanted to do things to my dick. Some were scared off by my inexperience, but a handful siphoned off all my ball juice while I sat passively. I never reciprocated. They muttered their thanks or admiration for my ‘big cock.’ I’d never thought of it as anything more than average—like the rest of me—but then I had nothing against which to compare it. I began looking when I was in the showers, which got me the wrong sort of reputation.

I kept my new body hidden because my father would expect that I would ‘man up’ in direct proportion to my new ‘manly’ physique. Inside, however, I was still the same mousy personality regardless of how good I looked. My brother’s reaction was about what I expected. Jealousy. Worse still, now he felt he could use the F-word more freely in front of his dad. Suspicious of my new body shape, one day he flipped my sweatshirt over my head to reveal that my pecs, abs and biceps were now large enough to have an IQ of their own. After his initial surprise at that unveiling, he’d yanked down my track pants to reveal my tight fashion underpants that all but thrust my cock and balls into any onlooker’s line of sight and hugged my ass so tightly they threatened to disappear up my ass crack.

That seemed to confirm everything for my brother. His face turned up in derision. “You may have got your body all pumped up, but it just makes you look even more like a faggot.”

Karl and Deke had dark hair and coloring whereas I’d taken after mom who was blonde and blue-eyed. As an added taunt, I’d allowed my hair to grow longer than my stepdad decreed acceptable. His only comment was “You look like a girl.” Still, I knew what he really meant. After my brother had stripped me practically naked, Karl looked me over and his nostrils flared as if he’d been confronted with a bad smell. “Cover yourself up, you look ridiculous.”