J.O. Dickingson

Brewster Adventures

A Brewster Thanksgiving

A Brewster Thanksgiving

25 November 1999

This is a story involving four brothers, two preteens and two thirteen-year- olds, two of their long-forgotten kin, and an assortment of their classmates putting on a community Thanksgiving pageant

If you're expecting a Disney-like family-oriented Thanksgiving story, not only are you in the wrong site and know nothing about the Brewster brothers, but you're in for one fucking surprise.
This is the ninth of the Brewster Boys Series. Comments and horns of plenty can be sent to the author, J.O. Dickingson, at authorsix(at)hotmail(dot)com who suggests you give special thanks this year for the invention of the condom

Posted on ASSGM: 21, 25 & 27 November 1999

— tt tb bb —
17,500 words (35 pages)

Part One: The Rehearsal

Bobby's heart sank. Now what? A kid didn't get called down to see the principal to be congratulated on getting straight A's on the last report card, or to be thanked for behaving politely on the playground, not that Bobby could ever lay claim to either of those deeds. As the carefree ten-year-old headed down the hallway, he thought about the morning.

There was the usual exchange between himself and Mr. Blackburn, the forty-one-year-old beefy bus driver who had the misfortune of having the Brewster brothers on his route. This time Blackburn had accused Bobby of calling him a turkey, and Bobby said he'd only commented that he seemed perky.

Then there was ol'Foghorn directing everyone off the bus and bellowing for them to stop loitering as usual. Bobby had stepped up to the thirty-six-year-old teacher and told him Blackburn was perky this morning and thought he might want to know and go for a quick ride, giving him a leer and an I-know-a-secret look along with the vague comment. As Bobby had sauntered to the school doors, a huge grin spread from ear to ear, Mister Steve West, better known to the students as ol'Foghorn, had studied his back and wondered just what the grade five student had meant, and what he knew about the incident between himself and Blackburn back in February. Both men had tried to forget the incident, but it had been so dynamic, and each man hated to admit, so satisfying, that was difficult to get it out of their minds. Besides, at least once a month one of the Brewster boys was sure to make some offhand comment that brought the memory back. As Steve West turned and looked at the yellow bus parked at the curb, he felt an ache between his legs.

Bobby's next stop had been at his locker, where he'd offered fat ol' Scott Hurd his lunch before the class bully could take it, which of course made Scott suspicious. The dope still believed the rumour Bobby and his brothers had spread about spitting in the sandwiches the big bully had been taking from him. Then at recess he and his best buddy Aaron had initiated a game of grabass tag until Mrs. Ferguson had put a stop to it. The boys wondered if she and the vice principal had ever gotten it on since the day they'd shot both of them with Cupid's arrows and then watched as the two women, both in their late forties, had feverishly masturbated each other like two hot teenage girls. After recess he and Aaron had exchanged answers on the math test, but he was sure his grade five teacher, Mrs. Spiers, hadn't noticed. Besides, if she had, she'd have mentioned it then and there even though he knew that she suspected it was he who had put the dead mouse in her desk after the last time she'd given him a detention, just for muttering "fuckin pencil" when he'd dropped it of all the dumb reasons.

All in all it had been a fairly typical morning for the ten-year-old. Pausing at the display case, Bobby checked out his appearance. The four-foot-four [1.32 m], sixty-four pound [29 kg] grade five boy took out the comb from his back pocket and combed his dark brown gelled hair, which he'd been wearing in the popular Caesar style cut since September. Just because a guy was going to get shit, it didn't mean he couldn't at least look cool. Winking at the image in the reflective glass, Bobby put on his best "what-me-worry?" attitude and with a sparkle in his hazel eyes, he walked into the office. Whatever he'd done wrong, he wasn't alone. There were already a dozen kids waiting for the principal.

That noon Bobby couldn't wait to find his brothers, all of whom were attending the junior high school next door. As he had suspected, they were heading for the dumpster at the back of the elementary school to share a smoke. He ran to catch up to them.

"You'll never guess what the fuck happened this morning!" the four said all at once as Benny took out the cigarette he'd stolen from his dad's pack and hidden in his sock.

"I'm in the dumb school play," all four chorused.

"What?" the four responded.

"Hey, we gotta talk one at a time," thirteen-year-old Brent managed to get in as Benny lit up. He was a typical teen on the verge of turning fourteen, five feet tall [1.52 m], a hundred-and-one pounds [46 kg], and wearing the usual teen uniform of baggy cargo pants, an oversize Gap T-shirt, and Nike runners.

"Me first. I'm the youngest," stated Bobby as he held out his hand for the cigarette next as his twelve-year-old brother exhaled. He had the same high cheek bones, dark brown hair, and hazel eyes as his younger brother, but had chosen to spike his gelled hair instead.

"No way. Should be the oldest."

"That's me," said Brett. "I came out of Mom first."

"Just because I pushed you out," replied his blond-haired twin, a wide smile curling his fine lips and his blue eyes sparkling.

Brett, having the same shoulder-long hair, tilted his head back and exhaled. "Fuck you," he said. "You didn't push me out. I couldn't stand your smelly feet."

"Up yours."

"And because you were trying to do that to me too, while we were still in Mom even!"

Their two younger brothers laughed. "Sounds like Brent," observed Bobby.

"I should go first, I'm the middle child," offered twelve-year-old Benny.

"Fuck you," responded his three brothers.

"Rock, scissors paper time," the four chorused.

Brent won. "Well, the three of us got called down to the gym," he began to explain to his brother. "You'll ever guess who one of the original Pilgrim families was."

"William Brewster and his wife Sarah and two kids," said Bobby smugly.

"How the shit you know that?"

"I got called down to the principal's office this morning."

"To congratulate you on your most excellent behaviour," said Benny with an impish grin.

"Fuck yeah," said Bobby, grinning up at his older brother.

"They want you to play one of the boys."

"Right."

"Which one?"

"The youngest. Wrestling. Shit, can you imagine going through life called that!"

"Huh, try the oldest boy," snorted Benny. "I got to play Love Brewster."

"Love?" snorted Bobby.

"Can you imagine calling your son Love?"

Bobby thought for a moment, and a smile began to cross his lips.

"Don't even suggest you'd call your son that," chorused his brothers.

"Well, I got it even worse. I got to be your dad, William Brewster."

"Who are you?" asked Bobby as he looked up at Brett, and then his eyes sparkled as an impish grin curled his lips. "You our mom?"

"Smart ass!" responded Brett. "I've been given the role of Miles Standish."

"That's not so bad."

"If you wanna be in a dumb play."

"So who's Mom?"

"Judy," said Benny with a smile.

"Yeah? Hey, maybe you'll get to kiss her."

"Or even grab a feel."

"Yeah, right," said Brent sarcastically. "She's got the hots for Derek."

"Zit-face computer geek Derek?" asked Benny.

"Yeah. Ever since word got out about him making out with Debbie last February rumour is he's one hot fucker."

"Thought maybe Judy would have the hots for Erika," said Benny, thinking back to when the twins had initiated a hot session between the two girls courtesy of Cupid's arrows.

"Who knows, maybe she's bi," observed Bobby.

"She still don't know Brent or me exist," said Brett.

"Hey Wrestling!"

"Oh shit," groaned Bobby as fat Scott Hurd approached.

"What a dumbass name," Scott snorted.

"Oh yeah. You're just jealous there were no Hurds on the Mayflower."

"There was," observed Benny.

"There was?" asked his three brothers in surprise.

"Yeah, a herd of pigs."

"Then you did have relatives on the Mayflower after all Scott!" Brent said with a grin.

Scott glared, but could do nothing to the thirteen-year-old. The ten-year-old outweighed him by twenty pounds [9 kg] despite their age difference but he knew if he tried anything physical the older boy was more agile, and stronger. As the bully stormed off in search of someone weaker to pick on, angry that his taunting of Bobby had failed and resolving he'd get even with Bobby and Brent, the four brothers high-fived.

That was the only success for the day, and for that week. As word got around, the four brothers had their share of teasing, the two youngest about the names, and the twins from a group of grade nine jocks who said with their long hair and looks one of them should have been the mother. Not only did the boys not want to act in some dumb play and spend their evening memorizing lines, but they definitely did not want to be the Brewster family. The Reverend Elder Brewster was not only a puritan, but an upstanding church leader besides, and he was raising two very proper God-fearing sons. As for Brett, he was not the military type, and that he was portraying a character who was training an army to fight the Indians didn't endear him to the character. Actually, the thirteen-year-old had a couple secret fantasies about Indian boys, and though they involved shooting, they didn't involve rifles. So, not exactly overjoyed about going to school in the first place, except for recesses, lunch, and assemblies, the boys dreaded each day.

Their parents, Barry and Brenda Brewster, on the other hand, were particularly delighted that their boys were going to be in the community play. Their sons were not exactly well known for their school spirit, and more often then not they were suspected of being the source of the frequent deeds of mischief at the school and about the community, though nobody could ever prove anything. Almost as exciting as the fact that all four sons had been chosen to act in the play was the discovery that they had the same name as someone on the Mayflower. The play and the first Pilgrims became almost a daily topic at the supper table.

"It's a great honour to play the Mayflower Brewsters," observed their father for the hundredth time as the boys tried for the hundredth time to get out of the performance.

"Whoop-do-do," mouthed Benny behind his hand as he twirled his finger with the other.

"Yes, many noble and important families are descended from the first Pilgrims," agreed Brenda Brewster.

"So what happened to us?" asked Brett, and the boys glanced at each other and snickered.

"Now boys, your father has a very important job."

"We know," the boys all responded, thinking back to the Labour Day picnic their dad's boss had put on. They might have been mischievous, but they respected their dad, and were proud of him.

"And don't think I've forgotten that you boys had something to do with my promotion."

Although he knew that the boys' fine behaviour at the Labour Day picnic had been one of the reasons for his promotion, and he had told the boys that, Barry Brewster had a suspicion that there was more to it than just that. What exactly had happened between them and his boss and the chairman of the board he had no idea, but knowing what he did about his sons, he knew better than to probe too deeply.

"So, maybe you can get us out of the play?"

"Why would you want that?" asked their mom with genuine perplexity.

"Awww, mom, who wants to be in a dumb play."

"It's not a dumb play. The Pilgrims and the first Thanksgiving are a part of our history, a very noble part. It is what America is all about. It is the story of a strong religious belief and the trials of our early ancestors ."

Placing their hands on their hearts, the boys began to hum the national anthem.

"All right, all right. But it is an honour to be asked to play one of the first Pilgrim families. And the role of Miles Standish. He was a very important and influential man."

"So, these Brewsters. You think they might have been one of our ancestors, Dad?" asked Brent, knowing it was useless to get their parents to change their mind.

"Well, it was a very long time ago. I really don't know. It is possible I suppose."

Despite their parents' enthusiasm and the boys' inability to change their parents' minds, something that until then was unheard of, when the boys saw the costumes they were expected to wear they doubled their efforts to get out of the play. Added to the continual teasing at school and having to spend their free time practising with a bunch of teacher's pets, life was becoming unbearable. Through it all, there were two just rewards. Seeing the skimpy costumes the boys playing the Indians had to wear, the Brewster brothers were looking forward to the opportunity to cop a few great feels and to have an uninhibited look at the bodies of some of the hunkier guys.

The second reward was even better. After weeks of teasing, it was announced that the main financial backing was from Packwell Poultry Farms, and that as an additional part of their contribution, and as an advertising gimmick, the children of all employees would be expected to help with the play, either as extras or ushers or handing out programs, and they would be dressed in special turkey costumes provided by the company. The reward was that two of the turkeys were two of their prime teasers, Scott Hurd in grade five and a new student that school year in Benny's class, Solomon Nejrue, a black boy from Sudan whom the brothers were anxious to see naked but who had rejected every effort of the boys to become friends.

"So, what has everyone come up with?" asked Bobby the weekend before the big play and the last effort by the boys to brainstorm an idea to get them out of the pageant.

"Measles," responded Benny. "We get a red pen, we mark each other up, and say we are too sick to perform."

"Until Mom or Dad remember we've all had them."

"Or until we wash our faces."

"So we don't wash."

"For a week?"

"Sure."

"Yuck!"

"So instead of measles we can have something else. Mumps."

"How you fake mumps?"

"I dunno."

"I heard when men get mumps their balls swell up."

"So, we get the hair dryer, heat up our nuts until they're swollen, and call in Mom and show her?"

"Course not," said Benny indignantly. "We'll call in Dad."

"Ha, he'd just take one look and say we're chips off the old block."

"Yeah, Dad does have big hangers."

"So we're stuck being in the fucking play."

"We could break a leg," suggested Brett. "You know, like they say in the movies."

"You'd really break your leg to get out of the play?" asked Bobby, truly impressed.

"Of course not. We'd fake it."

"All four of us? Breaking our legs all at the same time?"

"So you got a better idea?"

"No."

"It's bad enough being in the dumb play. The Pilgrims could at least have had a better name for the ship. The Mayflower for fucksake! That sucks."

"And William and Sarah could have given their sons better names."

"Yeah, now that really sucks," agreed Benny and Bobby.

"You ever wonder if they were our ancestors?" asked Brett.

"Yeah," admitted his three brothers.

"They got books and books about the Mayflower and the descendants of the Pilgrims and stuff. We could try to find out."

"There's an easier way."

"How?"

"We can call them up and ask them," suggested Brent.

"Yeah, right. You know the area code for Plymouth in the sixteenth century?"

"Seventeenth."

"Whatever."

"Anyway, smart ass. That's not what I mean."

"What do you mean?"

"This," said Brent, getting up and going to his desk. He pulled out an old, worn, black book.

"Hey, you still got the warlock's book of magic spells!"

"How come he's never come back for it?"

"I put a spell of memory loss on him before he left."

"Smart."

"Of course," said Brent, although the purpose of the spell had been so he'd forget what had happened that Halloween night and not come back and seek revenge, not so Brent could keep the book. He had noticed the book later, after the warlock had left and the boys had set to cleaning up the house, an ordeal they were not going to forget for a long time. "I'm more than just the best looking brother."

"Yeah," chorused his three brothers, glancing at each other with a smile. "You're also the one that got the smallest dick." They high-fived and Brent stuck out his tongue at them, knowing he'd walked right into that one.

"So what did you mean?"

"There must be a spell here on talking to the dead."

"Forget it," said Benny, thinking of their experiences with the Boogeyman and at Halloween. "I had enough talking with the dead last month to last me the rest of my fuckin' life."

"Those were from hell. The Pilgrims had to have gone to heaven."

"Yeah."

"So, we gonna try?"

"I dunno about talking to a buncha old ghosts," Bobby said, wrinkling up his nose. "I'm with Benny."

"There's gotta be some other way to find out without having to do a bunch of reading and junk."

Determined to find the easiest way, the boys began to thumb through the spell book despite their reservations about talking to the dead.

"Hey, here it is. Talking to persons no longer living."

"Looks complicated."

"Shit, I can't say half those words."

"Me neither."

"Hey, here's how to talk to a person on any particular day in their past!" said Brent excitedly.

"What the hell that mean?"

"Well," said the history enthusiast as he glanced through the page, "like suppose you wanted to talk to Paul Revere on the day of his famous ride. This is the spell you would use."

"Cool."

"So, let's try to talk to Love and Wrestling on the day of their first Thanksgiving."

"When was that again?"

"Fourteen ninety-two."

"No dummy. That's when Columbus discovered America."

"Oh yeah. It was sixteen ninety-two."

"Naw. It was earlier."

"Sixteen twenty-three."

"Yeah, that sounds right."

"Kay. Here it goes."

The boys held their breath while Brent recited the words.

There was a shimmer in the air, and slowly there appeared before the four brothers two boys, at first as transparent images, and then slowly taking on colour and form. They both had hazel eyes, high cheek bones, and long, curly dark brown hair down to their shoulders. They evidently spent a lot of time outdoors, both having dark tans. The oldest appeared to be about twelve, the youngest nine. They were wearing plain blue linen shirts covered with patches of assorted colours, high-waisted, sleeveless leather jackets, small white linen collars, woolen knee breeches, long knit grey stockings and large clumsy looking boots.

"What the helle?" commented the older boy, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Shit, it really worked!" observed Brent.

"What mannere of place is this?" asked the older boy as he looked around, clearly on guard but not overly worried considering the circumstances.

"And who be ye foure?" asked the younger boy, also showing surprising confidence and even a bit of cockiness.

"I'm Brent Brewster," said Brent, taking the lead. "And these are my brothers, Brett, Benny, and Bobby."

"Brewster?" asked the older boy, raising his right eyebrow. "Aye, ye foure have the Brewster cheeks, and ye two the eyes."

"But why do ye weare such strange apparell?" asked the youngest.

"Strange? What the fuck you mean strange?" asked Bobby. "If anyone is wearing strange clothes, it is you two."

"Us?" asked the youngest. "Ye got shite for brains? Our clothing is quite naturall."

"Even if it is clouted."

"Aye."

"And for your information, our doublets are of the newest fashione."

"Though I'll never like wearing this fucking falling band," said the youngest, removing his stiff white collar.

"Aye, I also brother."

"You also speak weird."

"We speak weirde? It is ye who speaks strange."

"Ah, guys, lets not argue," stepped in Brent.

"Oh yeah? Who made ye the kinge?" asked the older of the two boys.

"Yeah. Up yer arse," agreed his brother.

"Love, Wrestling, I think I'm gonna like you guys," said Bobby with a big grin as he stepped up between them and wrapped his arms about their waists.

"How do ye know our names?"

"Sit down. This is going to be a long story."

The four modern day Brewsters soon found that like themselves, it took a lot to phase Love and Wrestling. They also found that although three hundred and seventy-eight years had passed since the first Thanksgiving, they and their two ancestors had a lot in common.

"So this is nineteen-nintie-nine."

"Yep."

"Ye know ye gotte the first Thanksgiving date wronge. It was 1621, not 1623."

"So, we can't have looks and brains too," observed Benny.

"Why not? The Brewsters of 1623 do," observed Love with a grin.

"Maybe, but back then you sure had small dicks," retorted Bobby with an impish grin and sudden grab.

"Oh yeah?" retorted Wrestling, "well maybe we shoulde see who can give who a stiff pricke the fastest."

So saying the nine-year-old boy grabbed Bobby and wrestling him to the floor groped his crotch. There was an immediate free-for-all, the boys rolling about on the floor and laughing and grunting as they grabbed and were grabbed, finally ending in six hot, panting boys with woodies tenting out their pants.

"So, what was it like back in 1621?" asked Brent as the boys sprawled out on the floor.

"Great," said Love.

"The shites," said Wrestling.

The two brothers looked at each other. "Both," they replied with smiles.

"Were there many children?" asked Bobby, having the same interest in history as his brother Brent.

"Of the ninetie-nine of us who landed at Plimoth, about thirtie were children, frome babies just borne on the trip across the ocean, to teenagers that were almost men."

"So, what sorts of things did you take in school?"

"School?"

"Yeah. You did have school."

"What is that?"

"You know, where you go to learn."

"We learne at home, how to do our adding and numbers, and how to write our names, and read the Bible a little."

"Especially us, Dad being the Elder and all."

"Yeah, and two sermons every Sunday," said Wrestling, wrinkling up his nose as his brother groaned.

"Yuck."

"By the waye, thanks for summoning us juste now, or whatever it is ye call what ye did. We were just about to go to church," said Love.

"Hey, that's fuckin' right, brother. We are missing church!" said Wrestling with a grin.

"But you had no school?" asked Bobby with an incredulous look.

"No."

"Fuck. I think I could love living back then."

"It is funne. Once the worke is done."

"Work? What do you mean work? You're kids."

"Everyone does worke. We get up at sunrise and Father reads a passage from the Bible and then we eat our porridge and go to worke. The smaller children pull weeds, gather nuts and berries, and pick up kindling woode. Girls do the spinning, weaving, cooking and baking. They pound the corn into meal and make soap and candles. We boys fell trees, sawe and split woode to build houses, sow and reap the crops, and fishe and hunte. Then before supper, at nightfall, the little children recite their ABC's and Father asks us questions about religion from the catechism."

"Don't you have any fun?"

"For sure! We whittle toys out of woode, and make things out of corn husks and pine cones. We play games like tage and hide and seeke and roll the hoope."

"Fishing and clamming are goode sport, and evene picking nuts and berries in the bush be fun also if the grown-ups are not around," said Wrestling with a grin. "And there are wrestling matches, and races. And the Indian boys can be a lot of fun."

"Oh yeah," said Love with a knowing smile and sparkle in his eyes.

"Oh yeah?" asked Brett enthusiastically.

"Sounds like a tough life," observed Benny before Love could say more. Brett made a note to ask more about those fun things with the Indians later, in private.

"And your dad sounds real strict."

"Oh yes, but he also is not so pure."

"Right."

"How so?"

"Well, he does like his beer. And he wrote religious bookes that were forbidden in England, and he is not afraid to speak his mind."

"Mom says we got that from him," said Wrestling.

"Besides other things," said Love with a knowing smile that got the four modern day Brewsters wondering.

"But enough of this shite about us. What is all this ye have here? Never have we seen such plentie."

The boys showed them their belongings. Love and Wrestling were astonished that the boys had so much, and not only that, that many of the things they had were just for fun. Other things, like Benny's space models and the boys' CD's and the computer and even the electric lamps were beyond comprehension.

"Ye have so muche! We live in a smalle cottage made of logs with straw mixed with clay to fille the cracks. Never have we seen such smooth walls! And there are only two rooms that together are not much larger than yer bedroom! Mother and Father sleepe in one and we two share a narrow bed and sleepe on a mattress filled with strawe in the corner of the other, the same room as where we cook and eat. There is only one carved chair, and that is for Father to site in, and one smalle table and a large trunk to hold all our thinges. Our heate comes from a woode fire kept in a circle of stones under the chimney, not out of a hole in the floore."

"What do you eat?"

"Mostly plaine and simple fare. On Thanksgiving we have a wonderful feaste though," said Wrestling with a gleam in his eyes.

"Aye. There are longe tables piled with wilde turkey, chickens, duck and goose and venison, with clams and fish and cornbread, and wild plums and cranberry tarts and cranberry- apple jam for dessert."

"And beer."

"Oh yes. In England we made beer out of barley, but in Plimoth we have learned to make it out of pumpkins and parsnips, and walnut tree chips."

"Yuck"

"Oh yes, we do not much like the taste either. We much prefer cranberry nog."

"Especially with a bit of rum," said Love with an impish grin.

"But once we got Francis Billington drunk on beer."

"Oh yes," giggled Wrestling. "The Billington boys are a wilde bunch."

"When we arrived in this new lande, Francis almost blew up the ship!"

"Yeah?"

"He shot off a musket in the cabin of the ship, next to the open powder. His Father sure gave him a spanking."

"Spanking? How old was he?"

"Fourteen."

"Shit!"

"He deserved it though. Our boy Richard was by the powder kegs and could have been killed."

"Your boy Richard?"

"Our servant boy."

"You have a servant boy?"

"Yes, Richard More. He is the same age as me," said Wrestling. "You must have many servants with a home this huge."

"Ah, no," Brent said.

"Tell us more about getting Francis drunk," said Benny.

"And about your servant boy," added Bobby.

"And about the fun you had with the Indian boys," suggested Brett.

"If ye tell us what sorte of funne you boys have," said Love and Wrestling together, and from the look in their eyes, the type of fun they wanted to know about was quite clear.

So, for the rest of the morning the boys shared tales, and after introducing Love and Wrestling to jam and peanut butter sandwiches and soda pop, they continued well into the afternoon. It became very evident that although they had a lot of differences, a lot of things were not much different in Plymouth either. The boys had their bullies and their means of revenge, their games and their tricks on other boys and some of the stiffer, humourless adults, and a lot of fun with some of their young Indian friends. Although their father was the Reverend Elder, Love and Wrestling were just as full of mischief as their descendants, and they were just as sexually active.

Needless to say, the exchange of tales, especially those of the more daring and taboo nature, soon got the boys horny. Being three-hundred-and-seventy-six years apart, they were also more than just a little curious. Love and Wrestling were fascinated by the invention of the zipper, and had to open and close the boys' flies a dozen times before allowing them to remove their pants. The four brothers were glad that each time they decided to open their pants they didn't have to unbutton them, though from the worn buttonholes, evidently Love and Wrestling did that quite often. They were also fascinated by the woolen stockings extending all the way to the boys' hips.

Just as fascinating for the six Brewsters were the boys' underwear. The two Plymouth brothers were delighted with the colours and different styles, from Brent's black, cotton knit Calvin Klein boxer briefs to Brett's grey, ribbed Marky Mark boxer briefs, and from Bobby's bright blue Fruit of the Loom briefs to Benny's white BVD's. The four brothers were just as surprised that the underwear worn by Love and Wrestling were made of simple white linen and resembled outer shorts, except they had no flies, and instead of elastic waistbands they had drawstrings.

Having made those discoveries, the boys were eager for a comparison of a more intimate kind. With more than a little excitement, the six boys pushed down their underwear. Both Love and Wrestling had hairless pubes, and both were circumcised. They said all boys in their colony were cut, as the modern day Brewsters described the condition, but that their Indian friends were not. They were surprised that the twins already had hairs, saying that boys did not get hair there so early back in the sixteen hundreds, and in fact Francis Billington's older brother, John, had not started to get hair until after his seventeenth birthday.

Sitting down in a circle, the six boys began to fiddle with themselves, each one closely watching the other. Despite all their differences, they discovered that wanking had not changed one bit over the years. Each boy had pretty much the same way for getting himself hard, and each had the same feelings as they tugged on themselves. The Plymouth kin were also surprised that the twins could cum at their age, saying they didn't know anyone younger than sixteen who could cum. They watched closely as Brett and Brent finally announced they were about to shoot. They threw their heads back and groaned in ecstasy as they rapidly beat their young, now almost five inch [12½ cm] cocks until their hot, teen cum spurted out and splattered their bodies. They were soon followed by the dry orgasms of the other four boys.

The next day saw a surprising change in the attitude of the four brothers. Their teachers and the director of the play were caught by surprise, and were very suspicious. Not only did the brothers approach their characters with a sudden and surprising enthusiasm, but they added aspects of their characters that gave them far more depth and realism, and they had other suggestions for the play that were readily adopted to make it more suited to a play for children. One change that they insisted on was adding a character, Richard More, a child servant of the Brewsters. They also insisted the part be played by Chucky, much to their young fan's delight. The boys even had some great lines for him.

The rest of the week went by quickly and finally the big day arrived, Thursday, November 25, 1999. The employees of Packwell Poultry spent the day hovering over hot ovens at the community centre while in homes from one end of town to the next moms were busying preparing their contribution to the potluck feast, dads were putting finishing touches on the props for the play, and the kids were fervidly practising their lines.

That evening the children of the Packwell Poultry employees got into their costumes before the rest of the cast so they could hand out the programs and show people to their seats. To show there were no hard feelings, Benny and Bobby even helped Scott and Solomon into their costumes. Both boys were no fools, and figured they knew why the Brewster brothers were being so helpful. The two boys had stripped down to their gaunches and they guessed that the four bothers were hoping for a chance to cop a feel, and steal a look. They were both on guard, and the moment the Brewster boys grabbed their underwear and attempted to yank them down, they were quick to grab their gaunches and pull them back up. The brothers didn't have a chance to see anything, and at the most their fingertips grazed the two boys' stomachs as they made a thwarted attempt to cop a feel.

"Hey, what is that?" asked Solomon as Brett zipped up his costume for him since the boy could not do that himself with his arms and hands in the wings of the outfit.

"What?"

"You got hair on your hands."

"Oh, well, hmmm, must be from your costume," stuttered Brett as he glanced at Brent who was zipping up Scott's costume.

"Hey, so do you," observed Scott.

"Then it must be from the costumes," observed Brent as he wiped his hands off on his jeans.

"Ha, we know what causes hair between your fingers," said Scott with a leer in his eyes and a smug grin.

"Very funny," Brent said with a smile.

As the four brothers began to change into their costumes, they glanced back at the two turkeys and exchanged knowing grins. They would see who had the last laugh. Meanwhile, this was going to be one hell of a great play.

Part Two: The First Thanksgiving, A play in Four Acts

"In our search for religious freedom, we Pilgrims fled from England to Holland, and then in September in the year of our Lord 1620, one hundred and two men, women and children set sail for America on a ship called the Mayflower with Captain Christopher Jones, his officers, and twenty seamen. The boat was very small and the voyage very rough. It was gale season when we set sail. For days at a time we had to lower the sails and drift through gigantic sea swells. Seams in the deck opened, spilling icy water down on us. As the journey progressed we became more and more frightened for our lives."

The curtains opened, revealing the deck of a ship with canvas sails noisily flapping through the help of hidden hands behind the stage flats. Other stagehands rippled tin sheets to sound like a storm and several students were blowing into the microphone. A dozen students dressed as men and boys were swaying back and forth on the deck. Several in the audience twittered as the boys swayed in opposite directions instead of together as the ship supposedly rocked. A whisper from the director of the play, high school drama teacher Mr. Jean Poulette, quickly had everyone swaying in unison.

"Captain, the main beam has buckled and cracked," announced one of the sailors running onto the stage. "Some of the men are saying it is time to turn back."

"We have a strong ship," replied Captain Christopher Jones, played by fifteen-year-old Howard Miller. He slipped his hand in the vest of his ship captain's uniform in what he figured was a Napoleon-like pose. "It is water tight, and the beam can be repaired.

There is no need to turn back."

"Aye, we have suffered too much to turn back now," agreed John Carver amongst the murmur of agreement of the other Pilgrims on stage, including his twelve-year-old servant William Latham and twenty-one-year-old servant John Howland standing on either side of him.

"It is God's test of our faith and courage," observed Reverend Elder William Brewster, his long blond hair powdered grey to reflect his age. At fifty-four, he was the eldest Pilgrim to make the crossing. "But we will make it with honest work and prayer." The others all murmured agreement, fortunately loud enough to hide the snickering of his two sons. Bobby and Benny glanced over at Love and Wrestling, whom they had conjured back for this evening and whom only the four brothers could see and hear. As Reverend Elder William Brewster dropped to his knees, those playing the Pilgrims joined him. Joining the sailors in making fun of their pious passengers, Love and Wrestling stuck out their tongues at their supposed father and gave him the finger, a gesture they had learned from their descendants and which made the visible play Love and Wrestling giggle and receive a glare from the director.

"No matter how hard it gets, we will keep going," observed young Samuel Fuller the Second, who would have been twelve during the crossing. He was played by fifteen-year-old Wally Bingham who easily looked twelve years of age with his fine features, wig and rouged cheeks.

He was kneeling directly before Captain Christopher Jones, his head level with the boy's crotch. Back in February Howard Miller had been one of the boys Wally had blown in the boy's washroom in his drug driven lust, the result of the bully having been shot with one of Cupid's arrows. It had been an experience that in one day had changed him from being the school bully to being the school queen.

"Aye, it will be hard, but we will make it," agreed Captain Jones, glancing down at his classmate on his knees in front of him. His mind flashed back nine months earlier, the Monday after Valentines, when he and Wally had been in exactly the same position in the end stall in the boys' washroom. That had been the first blow job he'd ever received, but certainly not the last. The Captain shuffled uncomfortably, wishing he'd never thought that thought as his dick began to stir. The more he tried not to think of that, to his horror the faster he began to stiffen.

As Samuel Fuller the Second looked up at the captain, the boy saw that far away look and had a good idea what the captain was thinking. He glanced down at the captain's cotton breeches. The tent that was forming was evidence that he was right. As his own dick began to stir, Samuel Fuller quickly glanced away and tried to think of something else, but it was too hard. In no time so was he. He quickly dropped his hands in front of his crotch, and it was not in prayer. He noticed the captain drop his hands too. Shit, of all the times for the two of them to get woodies! Samuel Fuller glanced about slowly, hoping nobody had noticed as he turned a bright red.

Two young, buxom maidens stepped out onto the stage. The younger woman's dress was a bright red and the older woman's a dark green. Both had a stomacher of pale orange and full skirts that reached down to their ankles. Both wore a laced bodice over which they wore waistcoats and hooded cloaks. Captain Jones welcomed the distraction and he concentrated intently on their lines in a desperate attempt to will away the swelling between his legs.

"Desire," you should not be out on deck, John Carter said worriedly as he got to his feet and rushed over to his teenage servant, being played by the Brewster's sixteen-year-old neighbour, the buxom and highly sought-after Cheryl.

"She was feeling ill," observed the older woman in the green dress helping her. "We figured the fresh breeze might help."

"That is very thoughtful of you, dear wife," said William Brewster, leaping to his feet with amazing agility for a man of fifty-four and approaching his wife. He put his arm about her and squeezed her butt. His wife flashed him a dirty look and drew away, but he quickly stepped up beside her and squeezed again. His move was hidden from the audience, but quite evident to those on stage, and several of Brent's classmates smiled enviously.

"Many of the women and children are sick," observed John Howland.

"Ohh," groaned young Desire. As she dropped to her knees in a swoon, her bodice, which had fit very well in rehearsals but had mysteriously become very loose this evening, opened to reveal that she might be sickly, but she was also stacked. Several of the Pilgrim men and boys quickly stepped forward to offer their help and to see that she was all right. Brent and Benny exchanged smiles. Love's idea of ripping the seams of her bodice along the sides had worked perfectly, just as it had three-hundred and seventy-six years ago.

As she groaned again and bent forward, all the men leaned forward to offer assistance. Young Wrestling Brewster leaned over the rail and pretended to be ill. It was most realistic, and those who were in the audience who knew Bobby had to wonder if it was an act or if he really was upchucking. Richard More, the young Brewster servant, quickly stepped up beside his master and followed suit. Having been warned about the Brewster brothers, Mr. Jean Poulette watched the two boys closely. They were supposed to play sick, but the vomiting was purely adlibbed. He had to admit it was effective. It definitely was turning many of the players green, which was not a bad thing provided the boys soon stopped.

"It is hard sleeping on the bare boards of the ship," observed one of the men.

"It is hard," agreed Samuel the Second with a wistful look, his hands still strategically crossed in front of his crotch.

"Especially laying on bare broads boards," commented one of the Pilgrim men standing beside Desire and looking down at her, but not with Puritan concern. The boy immediately turned pink and several in the audience besides his classmates on stage twittered, which caused him to flush even more. Desire Minter gave him a cold look as she tried to adjust her bodice, which only drew more attention to her.

Fortunately for the boy a sudden squall was scheduled after his line and John Howland was swept off the deck. Everyone hurried to the railing, and after some commotion, a drenched John Howland was hauled back aboard the ship. By some miracle he'd manage to grab a hold of one of the topsail halyards. Hauling him back onboard had been an opportune time for Cheryl to carefully stand up without further revealing herself, but for poor Samuel Fuller the Second, Harry Schwartz's soaked breeches revealed just how well hung the seventeen-year-old football player was. Samuel Fuller the Second glanced down fearfully as he felt his stiff dick begin to ooze pre- cum. If it soaked through his cotton breeches, he'd never hear the end of it! He glanced out at the audience in an attempt to distract his mind. Seeing the hundreds of faces staring back up at him while his stiff dick leaked pre-cum was a mistake. 'Oh God,' he sighed to himself, 'let me die.'

Meanwhile in one of the meeting rooms in the community hall, Scott and Solomon had the task of looking after the younger turkeys who would be performing later in the play. The two boys were bored, and they were beginning to discover that the feathered costumes were hot. Besides that, they had a desperate need to scratch where proper boys did not scratch in public. They quickly found even if they had wanted to scratch, they couldn't with their arms and hands inside the costumes' wings.

At first they had tried to ignore it, but the more they tried to do that the more desperate the need became. Finally they could stand it no longer and catching the attention of one of the teachers supervising the halls, they asked her to unzip their costumes. Much to their dismay, they found the zippers had become caught in the lining and could not be opened without the risk of ripping the costume, which the teacher was not about to do. As their bodies got hotter and hotter and their balls itchier and itchier, they finally sidled up to one of the metal chairs or anything else available when nobody was looking and rubbed their crotches against it. What they did not know was that they were being watched. Love or Wrestling was popping in to keep an eye on the two boys and to report back to their newfound relations.

The play and their plans for Scott and Solomon were off to a great start and the Brewster brothers could barely restrain themselves they were so giddy with excitement. At the end of the first act, the grade one class lined up outside the curtain and recited some of their Thanksgiving songs while behind the curtain the scene for act two was being set up. Once again the hall darkened and the spotlight focussed on Captain Christopher Jones as he stepped out from behind the curtain, thankful that the fear of speaking to a hall full of people had caused him to lose his wood.

"It was a difficult crossing, but three months later the Mayflower arrived at Cape Cod. Finding there was too many Indians and not enough fresh water, we headed for Thievish Harbor, but being unable to find it, we continued on to Plymouth in the chill month of December. It was there that we spent our first winter in the new land."

The scene opened on a room below deck with many of the Pilgrims laying on fold-up cots and lounge chairs covered with blankets.

"I did not expect to be spending the winter aboard the ship," observed Miles Standish, wearing a tri-corner military cap and vest and his long blond hair done in a ponytail.

"Nor did I expect my ship to become a hospital," observed Captain Jones. Two Pilgrims walked on stage carrying a stretcher with a body under the sheets. "Another?"

"Yes," observed one of the men. "We are losing two or three people a day. Of the eighteen married women, there are only ten remaining, and most of those are sickly."

A groan came from one of the beds where William Brewster sat with his bedridden wife and two sons. "There, there, my dear," he consoled, mopping her supposedly perspiring head with one hand, and coping a feel of her chest under the blanket with the other. His wife squirmed and twisted in protest, and her husband smiled down at her kindly. "Now, now, dear, try to rest calmly. I know you are worried about me and our children," he adlibbed.

'A very effective touch,' thought Jean Poulette. He did not understand what all the fuss had been when he'd discovered the school district had four students with the same name as one of the Pilgrim families and had suggested the brothers have a staring role in the pageant. They were nowhere near as bad as he'd been lead to believe. On the contrary, they were proving to be a great asset to the production.

"Scurvy, pneumonia, typhus," observed Samuel Fuller, the company's doctor, "we are besieged by all manners of diseases for which I have no cures." He glanced down at the boy on the cot beside him. "Even my poor brother and his wife have died this winter, and now my nephew has a burning fever and I have no idea how to help him."

Samuel Fuller the second, who had managed to get rid of his erection also, looked up at his uncle plaintively from the bunk where he lay. As he felt a hand grope his crotch, he quickly looked down in surprise but there was nothing there. Deciding his mind was playing cruel tricks on him, he glanced up at his uncle again only to feel himself being groped again. Although he could definitely feel a fist wrapped about his privates, when he glanced down he could see nothing. What he had no way of knowing was that the real Wrestling Brewster was mischievously grasping his cock through the fabric of his costume.

His uncle, being played by Sam Aldin, the very first boy he'd sucked off in the washroom back in February, also felt someone groping him, and like his nephew, when he looked down he could not see anything despite the very real feeling. All he could figure was that it was the cotton breeches, little aware that the cause was the real Love Brewster grasping his basket. The two brothers had been told all about the Valentine's caper, and the mischievous boys grinned at each other as they groped their poor victims and felt their pricks begin to respond. This was marvellous fun.

"I don't know the cause of these illnesses," said William Brewster as he gave his wife's breast another feel, "but I would give all my belongings for some fresh vegetables right now."

"How about a pair of melons?" whispered his youngest son impishly.

"I'd love a fruit right now," observed the play Love Brewster, substituting "fruit" for "apple" in his line. He glanced over at his ancestor and winked and then stared intently at Samuel Fuller the Second. His words, and the meaning, did not go unnoticed by the boys on stage.

"Oh yeah, I'd love a hot 3; ah 3; a fresh piece of fruit," adlibbed the play Wrestling.

"A fruit would really make me feel sooo good," sighed the play Love, now also adlibbing. He reached down and groped himself out of sight of the audience and the play director, who was frantically trying to get the boys' attention, but making sure the two Samuels saw him.

"Our life is hard," observed the doctor .

"And so are you," giggled the play Wrestling Brewster just below a stage whisper.

"Ah, and, ah, but it is good to be in this new land," Samuel Fuller stammered as he began to flush a bright red.

"Has to be hard to be good," observed the play Love Brewster, quoting a joke he'd heard in school in a whisper as his dad gave his mom another loving squeeze in her sick bed and the doctor held his medicine bag in front of his crotch. Samuel, certain his face was bright enough to light up the entire stage, desperately concentrated on his next line. Meanwhile his nephew was thankful he was under the blanket as he glanced down to be sure it was not tenting out as high as it felt it was. The two boys could not help but fumble their next lines, and as their stiff cocks tented out their breeches, they had never felt so embarrassed in all their life.

Back stage, Scott and Solomon were also fidgeting uncomfortably. They could not understand why, but their nuts, hot and sweaty in the costumes, were itching like they never had before. All they could figure out was that it had to be the material the costumes were made of, although that didn't explain why none of the others were having the same problem. What neither knew was that the Brewster brothers had copied another trick of their ancestors, one that Love and Wrestling had played on several of the prominent church fathers, including their own father. When the brothers had approached Scott and Solomon and yanked down their gaunches, what they were really doing was dropping a handful of fine hair clippings in their underwear.

At the next scene break, several band students entertained the audience with some old fashioned fiddle music. Then Captain Miles Standish, resplendent in his waistcoat and breeches and carrying his musket, stepped out from behind the curtains to introduce the third act. "It was a long hard winter," he began. Behind the curtain the two Love Brewsters glanced at each other and mouthed "prick" in place of winter and then burst out giggling. "Many of the new settlers died. However, the pioneers had a brave and courageous spirit. Now living nearby was the Wampanoag tribe in the communities of Mashpee, (again there was giggling behind the curtain) Gay Head (the giggling became loud enough for the first several rows of the audience to hear, and those children there who were old enough to understand the reason for the giggling also snickered), and Herring Pond."

"Yuck," someone observed behind the curtain, followed by a loud "hussssh" from the director.

"Besides food, clothing and some pieces of furniture, the Pilgrims had taken along a supply of seeds, garden tools, saws, axes, hammers, gunpowder, and firearms. They also brought barrels of bright cloth, beads, knives and small mirrors to trade with the Indians. Two Indians, Samoset and Squanto, who had lived in England and had learned to speak English, approached the colony in the spring."

The curtain parted to show a number of the Pilgrim men and the two Indians in a field. Squanto was being played by William, the skinny honour student who had made out with Joe, the football jock, back in February. Finding out William was auditioning to be Squanto, Joe had auditioned and been selected for the role of Samoset. The two boys were wearing their hair combed up to form a crest running from front to back and had a fake eagle feather tucked in it. They were only wearing loincloths. Every girl in the hall, on stage and in the audience, a number of the women, and even a few men and boys strained forward to have a good look at the muscular football player. Joe and William did not notice. Unbeknownst to everyone except the Brewster twins, ever since February the two boys had eyes only for each other.

The two Indians showed the Pilgrims how to plant corn, which wild herbs and berries were safe to eat, and how to fish. The smaller Pilgrim children played by the grade one and two classes pulled weeds in the garden and went into the forest to gather berries and pick up kindling wood. Pilgrim men and older boys were sawing and splitting wood for building houses and heading out to fish and hunt. In front of a house front on the left of the stage girls were spinning, weaving, pounding corn into meal, and making soap and candles.

The play had actually been three acts originally. It had been the Brewster brothers who had suggested most of the content for this scene, based of course on the things they had learned from Love and Wrestling. They had even written some of the dialogue. Now as Jean Poulette watched the boys pretend to whittle toys out of wood, and the girls playing with dolls made out of rags, corn husks, and pine cones, he had to admit the depiction of the daily life of the early Pilgrims added a lot to the play. He began to make plans to have the Brewster boys star in the Christmas play next month.

At the end of act three, the turkeys entertained the audience with several songs and dances. Their two chaperones performed a dance of their own, the two boys now very definitely agitated. They were perspiring profusely, and their privates were itching like they had been exposed to poison ivy.

Act four was introduced by William Bradford, who had become governor upon the death of John Carver before the first Thanksgiving. He was played by Billy Graham, the first of the group of grade nine students who had been shot with one of Cupid's arrows causing him to fuck their gym teacher back in February. He was fifteen now, a high school student and gaining a reputation for being a real stud with the girls.

"We begin now to gather in our small harvest, and to fix up our dwellings for winter, those fifty-one of us who have survived now well recovered in health and strength and having all things in good plenty. All the summer there was no want which has made many write so largely of their plenty here to their friends in England. There is much to celebrate and to be thankful for."

The curtains parted to show the village painted on flats. In the centre of the stage were rows of tables and benches. The young children, including the play and real Wrestling, entered with the older girls and the women with their arms loaded with corn.

"We have had a fine harvest this fall, Mother," said one of the girls.

"Yes, thanks to our Indian neighbours we will be able to supplement our grain with this fine Indian corn."

"We are fortunate they showed us how to plant this new crop," said Wrestling Brewster. As he spun around with one of the larger ears, he "accidentally" goosed one of the girls bending over to empty her basket with it. The two Wrestling's giggled as she let out a "whoop" and quickly straightened up. Whispering his apology, he turned and accidentally goosed his mother. She was seriously beginning to dislike the Brewster brothers. Meanwhile, hidden behind the actors, the real Wrestling picked up an ear and proceeded to goose the six-year-old playing Resolved White. Spinning around, the boy was surprised to see an ear on the floor and nobody behind him. As the boy bent over to pick it up, the real Wrestling took the opportunity to grab his butt.

Love Brewster, accompanied by the real Love and his servant Richard More entered, the boys carrying something in their stocking caps. "Look, Mother," Love said excitedly. "Look at all the nuts we have gathered in the forest."

"That's nice dear," she said somewhat coldly for a mother, especially on Thanksgiving. She was not trusting any of the brothers.

"Wow, you sure got lovely nuts," Wrestling said loudly, adlibbing as he stepped over to his brother. With his back to the audience, he gave his brother a playful grope. Several of the younger boys on stage and behind the wings snickered, thinking only they knew the double meaning of the statement. Jean Poulette glared at the boys on the stage.

"Yeah, they will be great roasting in the fire," observed Love, also adlibbing and causing the boys to snicker even more. "And you should see Richard's," he added as he looked over at his servant boy. "He's got a couple huge ones."

The boys behind the scenes cracked up, much to the consternation of the stage director. The boys' natural enthusiasm was a great touch, but he had his first suspicion of the evening that perhaps the warnings about the Brewster boys were not totally wrong. The boys were young, but they had to know the double meaning of their words.

"Ah," said the new governor, "here are our Indian friends now."

The Indian Chief, Massasoit, with six of his braves, including Squanto and Samoset, and his two young sons entered. Each pair of braves was carrying a deer carcass made of plywood. Besides his loincloth, Chief Massasoit, played by Cole Bentley, was wearing moccasins, leggings, and a deerskin mantle over his shoulders. While the braves where putting down their deer carcasses, one of them got caught up on the long skirt of one of the women. Chief Massasoit quickly bent over to untangle it, giving the real Wrestling Brewster an excellent opportunity to flip up the back of the chief's loincloth. Several men in the audience gasped at the sight of that naked backside before the boy managed to flip the cloth back down. Any remaining doubts that what they'd seen was the same backside as they'd found conveniently exposed and waiting for them in Murray Park last Easter were quickly eliminated as the blushing teenager on the stage and the bright pink bunny in the park merged into one.

Those men who had taken advantage of the bound bunny that Easter Sunday didn't pay much attention to the ensuing conversation between the chief and the Governor, nor did they notice the arrival of the Indian women and the conversation they had with the other settlers. Cole Bentley was a handsome young man who had just recently turned seventeen. Like his portly father, Reverend Bentley, he was a bit on the chubby side, but that only made him more desirable as far as the men were concerned, especially in his deerskin leggings and with his smooth, bare chest and his fake crest of hair with eagle feathers stuck in it. Those who had experienced him in the park shifted uncomfortably in their seats and tried to discretely rearrange what was swelling in their trousers.

Captain Miles Standish arrived with several members of the Pilgrim army, followed by several of the men settlers carrying nets and baskets of fake fish.

"The ocean has been plentiful also this fall," said Edward Winslow, played by seventeen- year-old Mark Fording, who had been seen engaging in anal sex with his girlfriend over a year ago by his twelve-year-old brother, Justin, and the Brewster brothers.

As he put down the basket on the table, he knocked the basket of nuts over, spilling the contents on the floor. Cheryl being the closest, squatted down to pick them up and her bodice immediately opened up. Edward Winslow and several of the other fishermen quickly bent over to help.

"Nice cod," observed Love Brewster as he coped a feel of Edward Winslow's dick, which he knew from having spied on him was a nice size.

"And bass," said Wrestling Brewster, grabbing the boy's butt as he thought back to watching the teenager humping his girl's ass.

Edward Winslow glared at the two boys as Francis Billington, Samuel Fuller the Second, and William Latham returned at that moment from their hunting expedition carrying wild turkeys, actually dead domestic birds courtesy of Packwell Poultry Farms. Adding their bounty to the table, they knocked the pile of corn on the floor. Desire, figuring it would be safer, bent over to pick them up instead of squatting.

As her big boobs popped out of the loose bodice, the men quickly surrounded her to hide what had happened from the audience. By the time the corn was picked up and Cheryl's bodice was back in place, more than a few of the boys had erections, and for the Indian braves, that was a major problem. They all stood there awkwardly with their hands clasped before them as if they were praying.

During the ensuing conversation, Love and Wrestling joyfully slipped from one character to the next checking out who had boners in their cotton breeches and under their loincloths and who did not, and coping feels of the butts of the boys and the girls with equal delight. In the confusion, the modern-day Love Brewster impishly coped a few feels of the chief's son Wamsutta, being played by his buddy Justin, and the modern-day Wrestling Brewster similarly took the opportunity to playfully slip his hand under the loin cloth of the younger son of the chief, Metacom, played by his best buddy Aaron.

As the play drew to a close with the assorted cast stating their thanks on that first Thanksgiving, many of the teenage boys were silently giving thanks that the play was almost over and that they had no or few lines left. Even though every one of them was mortally embarrassed, the sight of Desire Minter's big boobs peeking out of her bodice and knowing at least some of the others had boners kept their young teenage flesh up. For the young gay lovers Squanto and Samoset, their nearly naked bodies and evident arousal had them thinking very un-Puritan thoughts. When the occasional boy did start to soften, a sudden grope or a goose, which they could only attribute to as a mysterious draft or a vivid imagination, brought their dicks back up in a flash. When the Reverend Elder Brewster lead them in blessing the food, everyone readily and gratefully clasped their hands before their crotches.

Love Brewster, having been sporting his own erection for most of the play, stepped up behind young Samuel Fuller the Second. Pressing his groin up against the boy's cotton knee breeches, he began to gyrate his hip. Knowing there was nobody behind him, young Wally assumed that his cotton breeches had simply become wedged between his asscheeks. The feeling, and knowing that many of the boys around him were sporting erections, many of which he'd sucked over the past nine months, was too much for the horny teenager. With a shudder and a sigh, he creamed his breeches in the middle of the Reverend Brewster's prayer and standing there before a packed community hall, including his mom and dad. His face was so red and felt so hot he was sure it could be seen from the back of the hall.

The Brewster brothers knew what Love had done of course, and the effect it had had on Samuel Fuller the Second. They also watched with amusement as Wrestling stepped up to Edward Winslow and slipped his hand between the boys clasped hands and his cotton breeches. As the seventeen-year-old boy felt the invisible fingers grasp his seven inches [18 cm] of stiff aching cock, like Samuel, he assumed his breeches were wedging on him and he pressed his hand against his body in an attempt to push the cotton down. That, of course did not work, and between Wrestling's warm hands and rapid stroking and being unable to shake the memory of Desire's boobs popping out of her bodice, the horny teenager also erupted.

He quivered as his hot, copious teen cum squirted out of his cock and flooded over his stomach. The virile young seventeen-year-old had had some violent ejaculations in the past, but this had to be the most violent and most pleasurable of them all. As he closed his eyes and sighed with the pleasure washing over him, he was suddenly aware of the total silence. Slowing opening his eyes, he found everyone on stage staring at him. In his foggy mind he could hear Jean Poulette whispering, "And so a new custom. 3;"

Edward Winslow stepped up to the front of the stage, hands clasped before his crotch. "A-a-and s-s-s-so a new custom was b b-born: a-a-a special day of both p-p-prayer and feasting, celebrated in family groups, and proclaimed annually by the Governor in thanks for general well- being and a successful harvest. Thanksgiving will always be a time for appreciating your friends and family, your home, your community and your country," he concluded. He stared out at the audience of more than six hundred people, at the standing and applauding crowd of friends, neighbours and relatives as his warm juice trickled over his tight nuts and down the inside of his thigh and soaked into his cotton breeches. As his fellow actors stepped up to join him and those on each side grabbed a hand and raised them in salute to the audience, he prayed that the wet spot between his legs was not as noticeable as it felt.

Part Three: Thanksgiving Feast

"Hey, what is with you two," asked Cole Bentley, addressing Solomon and Scott as he dropped off his costume in the change room. "You like your costumes or something?"

"The freaking zippers are stuck or something."

"Yeah. Someone help us here."

"Ha, leave Scott in until I get my plate of food," someone called out, and the others laughed.

"Yeah, we want to be sure to get something to eat," giggled another.

"What about me?" asked Solomon.

"Hey, you need help?" asked Brent as he slipped up to the boy. "I'll help you. You look hot in that costume."

"Never mind," said Solomon as he quickly backed away. He might have been new to the community and only twelve, but he knew the reputation of the Brewster brothers, and being the only black boy in the school, he knew why they had a special interest in him.

"Suit yourself," said Brent. "Get it, SUIT yourself." The boys around him giggled and high-fived.

Soon Scott and Solomon were the only two left in the change room. Having no choice, they headed for the door to get help, only to find to their surprise that someone had removed the doorknob. There was no way that they were going to get out, and with the music and excited conversation in the main hall, nobody was going to hear the muted pounding of their wings against the door or the muffled calls for help through their masks.

While the two boys were desperately trying to attract someone's attention, the cast and audience were loading up their plates and were beginning to stuff themselves. The ladies of the community had gone all out. There were steaming pots of barley soup, vegetable soup and pumpkin-apple soup. You could choose to have mashed potatoes, scalloped potatoes, or baked potatoes or even all three. There was green salad, bean salad, cucumber and tomato salad, seafood salad and salads that were a mystery to everyone. You could have Harvest Muffins, Dutch bread or sour dough buns. They had prepared New England Squash Pie, snow peas, corn on the cob, and dilled baby carrots. There were pickled beets, pickled onions, pickled pigs feet, and baby dills. And of course there were heaping platters of carved turkey with every manner of stuffing you could possibly want and heaping bowls of cranberries. Then, if you had room for dessert, you could have fresh apples, apple pie, apple crumbly, a wheat pudding by the name of furmenty, or of course several types of pumpkin pie.

"That whov fuff greate funne!" observed Love, looking like a chipmunk with his cheeks stuffed full.

"Aye, I've never hade so much funne!" agreed Wrestling, preparing to bite into his third buttered corn on the cob.

"Well, there was the time we went in the forest collecting nuts with the Billington boys," said Love.

"Oh yes. They brought along a flaske of choke cherry wine, and before long, we were really collecting nuts, hot sweaty ones," observed his younger brother with a giggle, his chin and lips dripping with butter.

Love took a long draught from his glass and let out a resounding burp, much to the amusement of the six Brewsters. "What mannere of drinke is this anyway?"

"Root beer."

"Beer?" the boys said, their eyes widening and lips curling into a bright grin.

"Not that kind of beer," giggled Bobby. "This is a soda pop."

"It is fizzy," observed Love.

"And sweet," added Wrestling.

"Yeah, it's got sugar."

"I love anything sweet," said Wrestling.

"Especially if it is covered with molasses," observed Love with a knowing smile.

"Oh yeah," giggled his younger brother. "Did we tell you the time Richard was sound asleep and we lifted his night shirt," began Wrestling, and the six boys' heads pressed together as he continued his tale in a whisper.

"You boys are certainly in high spirits," commented their father as they burst into hysterical giggling.

"Well, yeah," agreed Brent. "I think the spirits are on a high, a sugar high."

The boys giggled and the six of them high-fived.

Barry Brewster had no idea what his son had meant, but decided to leave well enough alone.

"Hey, I think we had better go see our turkeys," said Brett. "You guys wanna join us?"

"Naw, that's your funne," said Love. "We've never had a chance like this to eavesdrop on the adults' conversations."

"Or to give them a grope without them being able to see us."

"Or a goose."

"Hey, that's our principal, Mr. Bayer, over there. Ya gotta give him a goose," Benny said, thinking back to Sven Bjornson the janitor giving him a good fucking with the plunger in the furnace room last February. As Love and Wrestling headed across the hall with a mischievous sparkle in their hazel eyes, the four brothers piled up their plates with desserts, took a couple ears of corn and one of the plastic containers of butter, and headed down the hallway.

"Hey, how ya turkeys doin'?" asked Brent with a big grin as they stepped into the change room.

"We brung ya some food," said Bobby.

Scott immediately forgot how hot and anxious he was as he hungrily eyed the plates heaped with desserts.

"All right," said Solomon, having accepted that he had no choice. "Help us out of these costumes."

"Not til we have some fun," observed Benny.

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see," the twelve-year-old said with an impish grin.

"So what we gonna do first?" asked Bobby.

"What's the first thing Mom does to prepare the turkey?"

"She pins the wings down and the legs together, so they don't come apart while the turkey's cooking I think," observed Benny, always the authority on weird and obscure information.

"Okay."

As the four boys approached the birds, the birds slowly backed off. The brothers increased their pace, and so did the turkeys. Soon they began to run. "Hey, this is just like the turkey chase Love told us about."

"What?" gasped Scott.

"You wouldn't believe it."

Scott was too puffed already to respond any further. He ran as fast as his short fat legs could carry him. The twins chased him around and over the benches as Bobby and Benny chased Solomon. Unhindered and agile, the brothers easily leaped over the benches while the two turkeys, their wings flapping wildly, scrambled as best they could. It did not take the twins long to tackle and truss Scott up with the discarded long woollen Pilgrim socks, and then all four tackled and tied up Solomon.

"There," announced Brent, wiping his hands. "Two turkeys all tied up and ready."

"What's next?" asked Brett.

"Mom cleans out the birds," said Benny.

"Oh yeah, through their bumhole," said Bobby enthusiastically.

"All right!" said the twins with huge smiles.

"Hey, what are you doing!" called out Solomon as they grabbed him by the arms, or rather, by his wings.

"You'll find out soon enough," the twins replied as they hoisted him up onto one of the folding tables.

Using the laces from the bodices of some of the dresses, they soon had him tied down on his back with his legs raised and drawn back above him so his knees were by his ears. Benny slipped out of the room while his three brothers, after considerable effort hefting him up on the next table, tied Scott up in the same position. Being as chubby as he was, they had to tie his raised ankles to the legs at the other end of the table so they formed a V, it being impossible to get his knees anywhere near his ears. By this time Benny had returned, his arms loaded.

"What the fuck you got?" asked Bobby.

"Figured we could use this stuff," Benny said, dropping everything on the floor with a clatter.

"Where'd you get all that shit?"

"The caretaker's room."

"Hey, scissors, good thinking."

"And all this time you thought I was the brother with just the good looks."

Benny's three brothers looked at each other. "No," they said in unison.

"Up yours."

"Naw, up theirs," said Brett, nodding at the turkeys, and the four brothers giggled.

Their two captives squirmed and pulled on their restraints as the boys stepped up to their tables. They carefully cut along the seam of the costume between Scott's legs.

"You're going to get in trouble for this!" he warned.

"I don't think so," replied Brent, "unless you tell on us, and I don't think you'll be telling anyone anything by the time we're done."

"Hey! What the heck you think you're doing!" yelled Scott as he felt the scissors cutting a slit in the back of his checkered boxers.

"Exposing your poop hole, what do you think?" Bobby replied with a giggle.

The boys quickly did the same to Solomon, splitting his costume along the seam between his legs, and cutting a slit in his blue jockey briefs.

"I"ll get you for this," Solomon promised.

"I don't think so," said Benny.

"Okay, so now we gotta clean our birds out."

"Soap," said Benny, bending over and picking up two plastic bottles of liquid soap.

Removing the caps, Brent poured some of the liquid green soap on his index finger and dabbed it on Solomon's black pucker while Brett did the same to Scott.

"You bugger," sputtered Solomon. "You some sort of pervert?"

"Yeah," agreed Scott, his quivering voice belying his pretense of courage in supporting the boy spread out on his back beside him. He had no idea what the boys were up to, but he knew whatever it was he was not going to like it.

"Oh yeah, Brent's some sort of pervert all right," said Benny. "But every time someone figures out what type, he kills the person off before he can tell us what type."

The boy's would have hooted and high-fived had Scott's mask not hidden how white he suddenly became. Of all the kids in school, why had he bullied and teased Benny and Bobby? He held his breath as he felt the top of the plastic bottle being inserted in his soaped asshole, and he squirmed with the strange feeling of the liquid soap being squeezed into his rectum.

"Water," said Bobby, picking up and handing his brothers two squirt bottles.

The twins removed the soap bottles and quickly stuck the nozzles of the squirt bottles up the two boys' butts before the soap began to leak out. As they began to pump the squirt bottles, their two victims squirmed and twisted even more. By the time the two bottles were empty, the two turkeys felt as if their rectums were about to burst. At first they had been feeling very self- conscious about laying on their backs with their legs raised and butts exposed, and then they had been fuming with anger as the boys had filled their rectums. Now, as the twins removed the nozzles of the squirt bottles, the two victims clamped their anal sphincters shut tightly and their hearts pounded with fear. Suppose they were not able to hold back!

"So how ya feelin'?" asked Bobby. "A little stuffed?"

Their tormentors giggled and high-fived, and then holding the two pails Benny had brought under their two turkeys, the two victims were told they could empty their bowels. The two boys hesitated, but their need overcame their embarrassment, and they opened up the chutes. The four brothers snickered as the green, soapy water rushed out of the two turkeys in a torrent. Scott and Solomon were thankful that the masks hid their embarrassment as they turned a bright red. Never had they felt so humiliated.

"So, what's next?" asked Brent.

"Gotta stuff them," said Benny.

"Oh yeah," Brent and Brett said with grins as they groped themselves.

Scott and Solomon stared at the twins. They wouldn't dare!

"And then cook them slowly."

"Oh yeah," the twins said again, this time with an even deeper sign.

"So who wants white meat and who wants dark meat?"

"I like dark meat," said Brett, stepping up to Solomon. "Especially the drumstick." He reached out and ran his fingertips lightly along the inside of Solomon's thigh.

"Pervert!" Solomon snorted as Brett's light caress caused a strange feeling to pass up his thigh and through his hot, sweaty groin.

"Yeah," Brett said with a grin, "and the fun is just starting." He pressed harder, massaging the twelve-year-old's sensitive thigh and causing the young boy's dick to itch and ache in a way like it never had before.

"Well, I like white meat," said Brent, "there's nothing as tasty as turkey breast." Ripping Scott's costume along the zipper just enough to slip in his hand, the thirteen-year-old smiled down at him as he slid his hand through the opening. "Mmmm, nice and soft and warm," he sighed as he squeezed the ten-year-old's plumb breast and gently massaged it. Scott's body was hot and sweaty inside the costume, and the older boy grinned with pleasure. He ran his fingertips over the young boy's nipple and began to tweak it. Scott squirmed and demanded the boy stop, but it only encouraged Brent all the more. Soon the boy's nipple was firm and itching, a totally new experience for young Scott, one that was not all that unpleasant to the boy's surprise.

"Well, I like dark meat," said Benny. "There's nothing like a piece of hot turkey in a bun." He slipped his hot little hand in the slit they had made in the back of Solomon's costume and began to caress his hot, sweaty black butt.

"Well, I like white, like the wishBONE," said Bobby, suddenly grabbing Scott in the crotch and palpitating it.

"Hey!" cried out Scott. "It's nasty to touch somebody there!"

"Oh?" said Bobby with a wide grin.

"So who's going to stuff these two birds first?" asked Brett.

"You boys ever been stuffed up the ass?" asked Brent.

"Of course not!" snorted Solomon indignantly.

"No way," Scott replied, his voice quivering a little with hesitation. Telling someone to stuff it was just an expression. Nobody really did that 3; or so he'd thought up until that moment. Now he was no longer so sure. Of the hundreds of kids to pick on, why had he chosen the Brewster brothers?

"Then I think our younger bro's should get first crack," said Brent. "Hahahaha, get it? First CRACK!"

The four brothers giggled and high-fived.

"Dibs on the white," said Bobby, continuing to squeeze Scott's hot, madly itching crotch with one hand as he pulled down his fly and slipped his other hand inside to fiddle with his own cock.

"Fine with me," said Benny, his hand still squeezing and massaging Solomon's ass cheek as he did the same as his younger brother.

It did not take the two younger Brewsters long to get hard. Unsnapping their jeans, they pushed them down along with their underwear at the same time. Their cocks, both uncut, were standing at attention, Bobby's at three inch [7½ cm] and Benny's at three and three-quarters [9½ cm].

"Fuck, this is going to be so awesome!" said Bobby. "I don't think there's anything hotter than having somebody's cherry."

"You're gonna pay for this!" snarled Scott.

"I don't think so," said Bobby. "But I bet you're going to like it so much that after tonight you'll pay guys to do it to ya."

The four brothers exchanged glances and giggled with merriment as they high-fived once again.

"Oh fuck, I bet you're gonna be so tight," sighed Benny as he stepped up to Solomon.

The twelve-year-old said nothing. He'd heard that Benny Brewster was some sort of sex maniac, but he had just assumed the boy was interested in girls. He could not believe the boy was about to screw his ass. If word ever got out about that he'd die!

"You want to use some soap for lube?" asked Brett.

"Hand me that tub of butter."

Taking the plastic container, Benny removed the lid and then holding it between his legs with his left hand, he pushed his erection down with the right, pushing it into the butter. His hot cock easily sliced into it. Stepping back up to his hogtied captive, he held his buttered wiener at the base as Brent pulled apart Solomon's cheeks, revealing the black boy's tight, jet black pucker. Benny's hot, pink tool pressed against the boy's resisting hole and the slender buttered dick easily forced open Solomon's sphincter.

Taking his cue from his older brother's lead, Bobby similarly jabbed his little pricklet into the tub of butter, and then as Brett held apart Scott's fat ass cheeks, the ten-year-old similarly penetrated his classmate. "Oh fuck, Scott, your big hot ass feels great," he sighed as he eased his cock up the boy's rectum until his naked pubes were pressed against the boy's feathery butt.

The two Brewster brothers began to rock back and forth, rhythmically fucking the two turkeys spread out on their backs with their legs spread and raised. They eased their young boy cocks in and out of the hot, virgin holes, and as they swayed in unison they grinned down at the two trussed up turkeys. This was truly sweet revenge after all the teasing and bullying they had received from the two. They worked faster and faster, concerned only for the pleasure that was rippling through their stiff pricklets.

Brent and Brett leaned back, and eyed the deserts they had brought. They each picked up a large slice of cherry pie with their hands, having forgotten to bring forks, and began to eat as they watched their younger brothers get off. Despite all the teasing and insults, the twins loved their two younger brothers, and it was hot watching them fucking the two boys, their pants and underwear about their ankles and their pink asses bobbing back and forth.

Scott and Solomon were experiencing a mixture of feelings. First, they were mortified. They were being fucked by their two classmates. The boys had actually shoved their dicks up their assholes. If having their butts exposed and fucked was not embarrassing enough, they were being watched by the twins. They felt ashamed, and angry. At the same time the sensation of the hot, stiff cocks easing in and out of them was not unpleasant. In fact, they hated to admit it, and were sure there was some explanation because only fags could possibly feel that way, but having the hard, hot little pricks easing in and out of their asses was stimulating, and the harder the boys did it the better it was feeling. Before long, their assholes were beginning to itch just as badly as their crotches in a way that was both painful and pleasant.

Bobby and Benny's dicks were also itching, and they worked them in and out of the two hot, moist holes eagerly, knowing the relief that they would soon feel. It was not the first time either had fucked ass, but it was the first time they'd had a classmate's cherry, and that was especially hot. It was not long before both boys were gasping and grunting with their dry orgasms.

As they eased their cocks out and stepped back, they were immediately replaced by their two brothers, the twins having already pushed their jeans and boxers half way down their thighs. The twins, only a week away from their fourteenth birthdays and sporting five-inch [12½ cm] erections, eagerly shoved their hot cocks into the tub of butter, and then just as eagerly shoved them up the butts of the two boys. Although thicker than their two younger brothers, their cocks easily eased into the bound boys after being screwed by the two younger boys.

The twins grasped the rumps of their two captives as they began to ease their hot, young cocks in and out of them, Brett having chosen Solomon and Brent having chosen Scott. The boys' slightly longer cocks struck the two younger boys sensitive prostates as they lunged forward, causing still another new sensation to ripple through the two turkeys. The boys were already feeling desperate, and having their prostates massaged by the dicks of the two hot teenagers only added to their horniness. Between the pangs of arousal shooting from their prostates to their cocks, the itchiness of their naked crotches, and the sweat trickling down around their balls and down their asscracks, the boys began to squirm out of control, much to the amusement of the Brewster brothers. The two turkeys were on the verge of their own orgasms when the twins began pumping them full of hot teen cum, the first to ever enter their young bodies.

"Ahhh," sighed Brett as he withdrew his stiff cock. "That was fantastic."

"You know," observed Bobby, finishing off a butter tart. "I was thinking. I sortta like dark meat too."

"And I was thinking I should try white just to be sure," said Benny with a grin as he wiped the syrupy apple filling off his lips with the back of his hand.

The two brothers easily got themselves stiff again, and with the two bound boys having already been fucked twice and with their rectums filled with the twins' slippery cum, it was easy for the two younger boys to penetrate them.

"What do you think?" asked Bobby as worked his hips to and fro. "White or dark?"

"Dunno," said Benny with a grin. "Might have to try the dark again after."

"Right on," said Brent as he reached for a slice of pumpkin pie, and the four brothers giggled.

Solomon lay there in a numb daze. He was being fucked now for the third time, this time by a ten-year-old. Even though his dick was the smallest, he could feel the little hard bone easing in and out of his body. By this time his own dick was stiff, and he was thankful at least that the Brewster boys were not able to tell with his feathered costume. He could only imagine the things that they might do if they knew. He'd had a stiff cock before, but only because he'd had to pee, and it had never been this stiff, or aching this badly to be touched. It was a totally new experience, and not an unpleasant one, a fact that perplexed the innocent boy.

Chubby Scott was just as perplexed. He'd told others to shove it plenty of times, and had always considered the idea as disgusting. He certainly had not considered having a guy shove his wiener up his butt as being pleasant, yet what he was feeling was very definitely pleasant. So was the sensation of having his swollen cockhead brushing against his costume. Each time Benny shoved forward, it caused the ten-year-old's body to slide forward and his cock to brush against the inside of the costume, and each time Benny drew back, Scott's own body eased back, drawing his cock back along the costume. When Benny finally shuddered with his orgasm and a few minutes later drew out for the last time, Scott was disappointed that it was over.

His disappointment did not last long. Brent and Brett had decided to do it a second time also, and also to switch boys. For Scott, and for Solomon, it was just like the first time with the two thirteen-year-olds. Neither could tell the twins apart. They looked identical, right down to their uncut five-inch [12½ cm] cocks, huge balls and fine blond bushes.

For the twins, it was very different. Brett grasped the fat ten-year-old's butt and enjoyed the sensation of his hot, tight ass gripping his cock. He could not see the boy's face in the costume, but from the way his butt was squeezing onto his bone, he knew that the ten-year-old was enjoying what was now his fourth fucking for the night. Brent was enjoying himself also. He'd had many pleasant jack off sessions imagining what it would be like to fuck this new boy on the block, and it was even greater than he had imagined. As he eased his five inches [12½ cm] in and out of Solomon's black butt, he could hear the black boy's breath growing louder and deeper with each shove, and he knew the boy had to be approaching his own orgasm. Brent smiled, knowing exactly how the boy was feeling. Having cum not that long ago, it took the two boys a bit longer before they emptied their nuts into their partners, Brent's cum mixing with the previous deposit by his twin brother and vice versa.

"So, how you turkeys feeling now?" asked Bobby.

"Stuffed?" asked Benny with a giggle.

"Over cooked?" asked Brett.

"Maybe our turkeys feel goosed," suggested Brent, and the four brothers laughed and high-fived.

"Hey, before we quit, maybe we should give these two a corn stuffing," observed Brett. He picked up a cob of corn and grinned at his brothers.

"Yeah, hot buttered corn stuffing," agreed his twin.

"Actually, I'd like to try that wishBONE before we quit," said Bobby.

"White or dark?" asked Benny.

"You take the dark, I'll take the white."

"Cool."

Cutting slits in their costumes at their crotches, the two younger Brewsters slipped their fingers though the slits, and through the flaps of the boy's hot, sweaty underwear.

"Hey, my turkey has a bone!" exclaimed Bobby.

"Mine too!" observed Brent. "A nice big, hot, sweaty bone."

The two brothers eased the boy's cocks, and then their balls, out through the slits. The four brothers stepped back to admire their birds, laying there flat on their backs, their wings tied to their sides and their legs raised up in the air and spread apart. Their stiff cocks, Scott's cut, three-and-a-half-inch [9 cm] thick stump and plump pink balls and Solomon's four-and-a-half-inch [11 cm] , black sausage and dark wrinkled ball sack looking strangely out of place with the background of turkey feathers.

The twins stepped forward with their buttered cobs. Having been fucked four times, the boys' holes already felt stretched, and they had to only stretch a bit more for the two cobs of corn. The butter and tapered ends made it easy to insert the tips, and once wedged in the boy's buttholes, it was a simple matter to ease the ever thickening cobs up the boys' asses. As the twins began to ease the buttered cobs in and out of the two boys, Brent goosing Solomon and Brett doing Scott, Bobby stepped forward and wrapped his fingers about his classmate's fat stump and Benny wrapped his about his classmate's large black sausage. As they slowly began to pump their fists, the two boys thought of the many times the bullies had teased them and made their life miserable. That would never happen again after this night, not if the two bullies were wise.

At first Scott and Solomon were embarrassed at having their privates exposed, especially in those conditions, but exposing their hot, sweaty, itching balls to the air felt good, and having their hard, hot pricks being pumped felt even better. Both boys had fiddled with themselves before, but this was totally different. In a way it was weird having someone else's hand wrapped about that most private and most sensitive part of your body, and in a way it was shameful, but more than anything else, it felt great, especially after itching for the past three hours.

As Bobby paused to give his wrist a rest, Scott could not stand it. He thrust his hips upward as best he could being tied down as he was. At the same time it thrust his butt forward, impaling it on the corn cob. Brett immediately stopped, he and Bobby knowing very well what was going to happen, and they were not disappointed. In his desperation, Scott began to work his hips to and fro, pumping his stiff, aching cock in and out of Bobby's fingers, and working his butthole up and down the corn cob Brett was holding. The two boys glanced at each other and smirked knowingly, both knowing exactly how fat Scott was feeling.

Brent and Benny noticed immediately, and the two brothers followed suit. Solomon did not know why Scott was squirming and thrusting so, but when the two boys stopped, he followed his impulse to keep going. Soon the boy was thrusting his body up and down on the table with equal ferocity.

"Ataboy!" called Brent. "Go for it!"

"Yeah, fuck my fist!" urged Benny.

"Oh man, this is so fucking hot," said Bobby, his hazel eyes gleaming. "Com'on, Scott, screw your brains out!"

The two boys thrust their bodies back and forth in desperation to the amusement of the four brothers. It just felt too good, and the faster they did it the better it was, easily overruling that part of their brain that was urging them to stop. Their thrashing became so violent their zippers unsnagged and their suits began to open. The Brewster boys began to push them down as Scott and Solomon continued to thrust and twist, so horny by then that they didn't pay any attention as their bonds were untied. Laying there still on their backs on the table, Scott's fat cock sticking out of his checkered boxers and Solomon's black pole sticking out of his blue jockey briefs, yellow corn cobs protruding from their assholes, the two boys humped the fingers of the two younger Brewsters while the twins anchored the corn cobs they were riding.

"Agghh, ohhhh Jezzzz," gasped Scott, "ohhhhh Jeeezzzz!" His rocking became so forceful the table began to bounce on the floor. His fat body shuddered, causing his fleshy breasts and flabby thighs to quiver as he reached the first dry orgasm of his life.

Solomon was also violently rocking his body, thrusting his hips back and forth as he gasped desperately for breath, the itching in his cock growing more and more until his entire body shuddered with a violent orgasm. His thighs suddenly felt so weak, and his swollen cock felt so gigantic as it pulsated rapidly and wave after wave of ecstasy rippled through his groin

"All right!" cheered the four brothers.

"Far fuckin' out!" cried Bobby with a grin from ear to ear.

"Oh yeah, like awesome," Benny agreed.

"Hot," agreed the twins.

"Hey. I think someone is coming down the hall."

Scott and Solomon scrambled into their jeans and shirts, not even having time to slip their dicks inside their underwear, and certainly not having time to remove the cobs stuck up their asses.

"So, there you are!" exclaimed Scott's mom just as he pulled up his fly. "We've been looking all over for you." Spotting the two plates with cake and pie crumbs, she smiled. "So, snuck down here so you could snack on pastries. I should have known. Well, you deserved it after such a fine performance."

"Oh yeah, both you guys put on a fu-, ah, a fine performance," said Bobby. "Didn't they guys?"

"Oh yeah, it was an awesome performance," agreed his three brothers.

"Well, everyone is getting ready to leave," informed Scott's mom.

"Was a lot of fun guys," said Benny as the brothers headed for the door. "We should do this again sometime."

"Yeah," agreed Bobby. "Sometime soon."

Arriving back at the hall, they found the adults packing everything up.

Their two ancestors were sitting in a corner, backs against the wall and legs spread out.

"How are you guys?"

"Tired as a foxe in a chicken barne," said Love.

"Oh yeah," agreed his brother.

"I've ever groped so many men and boys in one evening before!"

"My wrist is sore from wanking so many prickes."

Barry and Brenda Brewster arrived. "You boys ready to go home?"

"Sure."

"You'd better send us back," said Love.

"Would you like to come home with us?" asked Benny.

"Why, of course we would," replied Brenda, giving Brent a curious look.

"No," sighed Love. "It's late, and we have chores at sunrise."

"Bummer."

"Pardon?" asked their father, raising his eyebrow.

"Ah, well, um," said Bobby, glancing at his brothers for help.

"Poor guy's so tired he don't even know what he's saying," offered Brent.

"He never knows what he's saying even when he isn't tired," added Brett.

"We never know what he's saying anyway," contributed Benny.

"Up yours," Bobby mouthed.

Love and Wrestling giggled.

"Then let's get this gang home and off to bed," said Barry Brewster.

"We have to do this again sometime," said Love.

"You bet," whispered Benny.

"Cool," said Wrestling.

"Your mom and dad are really going to wonder what you're talking about if you say that when you get back," observed Brent.

"Fuckin' cool," said Love and Wrestling together and all six Brewsters giggled.

"Well," said Brenda Brewster as the family piled into the station wagon and headed home. "That was a fine evening."

"Aye, a mightie fine evening," agreed Bobby, and his parents laughed as they glanced at their boys in the rear view mirror.

"Mr. Poulette was most impressed with you boys," Brenda said proudly.

"Yeah? Really?"

"Yes, he especially liked the things you added to the play to make it more realistic."

"Cool."

"He talked to us about you boys being in the Christmas play."

"Oh?" the four boys chorused. Being praised was one thing, but being considered for another play was something very different.

"He said your acting was so natural."

"Some of the boys seemed to have difficulty concentrating and remembering their lines," observed Barry Brewster.

"And a lot of them moved about so awkwardly. As if they were stiff," said his wife.

The boys glanced at each other and snorted as they tried not to laugh. "I think some of them were finding it hard," observed Benny and the four boys giggled, unable to hold back.

"Well, we told him you'd be delighted to be in the Christmas play."

"You did?" the four boys chorused, immediately becoming serious.

"Of course."

"Maybe we could do the first Pilgrim Christmas," suggested Brent, trying to find something positive about the turn of events.

"Well, the research would be loads of fun," agreed Brett, thinking of the possibilities of Love and Wrestling joining them.

"You boys really liked researching for the Thanksgiving play didn't you?" asked their father, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Oh yeah, we really boned up," observed Bobby and the boys all giggled again.

"I think you boys have had too much sugar pastry," observed their mother.

"Oh fu-, fu-, for goodness sakes yes," sputtered Bobby.

"I liked the turkey the best," observed Benny.

"There's nothing like turkey stuffing," chorused the twins.

"I bet we could have just as much fun at a Christmas play too," noted Benny, and his three brothers all quickly agreed.

Brenda and Barry glanced at each other and smiled, very proud of their four boys. They might have a streak of mischievousness in them, but they were good boys at heart. The two adults gave a silent thanks for their four blessings as they waited for the light to change. Meanwhile, in the back seat of the station wagon, the four blessings thought of Love and Wrestling and turkey fun as they reached for each other's crotches and began a game of seeing who could get who stiff the fastest.

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