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In Which Picky is Punished	By : tenten220 Category: +A through F > EarthBound Views: 2196 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own EarthBound, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-In Which Picky is Punished
- 1
"Picky? Come in here, please."
Picky was seated at the table in his room, absentmindedly drawing pictures while his older brother, Pokey, sat across from him playing cards. At the sound of his father's voice, the two of them looked up simultaneously.
"Ooh," Pokey teased. "You're in trou-ble.
"Sh�Shut up," his brother muttered, shaking blond hair out of his eyes.
"Picky? I only want to talk. Come here." He was calling from his home office, a room whose door was frequently locked; a room where one went by himself to receive the harshest punishment available in the Minch household. Nevertheless, it was a homey area, with enough shelves of books to be considered a library. The lights were usually kept dim around this time at evening, to allow the Aloysius, the head of the household, to relax. This just made for an especially sinister appearance when one was called in there alone. It usually meant that he would get the spanking of a lifetime, a spanking that'd keep him from sitting for more than a week.
Little did Picky know, of course, that he was going to get something else that'd keep him from sitting for more than a week.
However, despite the fear which knotted his stomach, the boy rose and forced his legs to walk down the hallway into the darkened room. He quietly shut the door and stood as straight as he could possibly manage.
His father was sitting in his large, leather swivel chair, pipe arrogantly jutting out from underneath his dark, bushy moustache. His immense girth filled out the chair quite nicely, gently pushing at the armrests whenever he shifted his weight. He eyed his son from behind thick glasses, looking him over head to toe. The pipe was removed from his mouth and set on his desk. "Come here," he said, motioning with one finger.
Nervously, Picky inched a few steps closer to his father. "I didn't do anything," he mumbled. "I swear."
"Now, now, didn't I tell you I just wanted to talk to you? Now, I mean it. Closer."
Picky forced himself to take a full step towards the chair. Being as short as he was, he met his father's eyes while he was seated. He tried his best not to look at him, but the weight of his gaze made him want to match it.
"I want to show you something, my boy." Aloysius's voice was deep and warm, resonating for what seemed like ages in the boy's ear. The eyes that watched him so carefully had a glint in them that he couldn't quite place. It was making him uncomfortable. Whatever his father had to show him, he was sure he didn't want to see it.
A thick hand grasped his own skinny one and tugged him closer. "Kneel down," the soothing voice commanded.
"I don't want to," Picky said, and tried to pull away. The grip on his hand tightened.
"I said, kneel down. You know better than to disobey your dear old dad, don't you?" The man let go of his son's hand and instead placed both of his hands on the boy's shoulders. Firmly, he pressed down again and again, until Picky gave up and knelt down. He was now face-to-face with his father's crotch, which was not something he wanted to be looking at. He lolled his head in the other direction, and was met with, once again, a firm hand urging him back to his original position. He gave up and stared at the forest green corduroy which concealed something he tried his best to forget about.

"I have something to show you," his father repeated, beginning to fiddle with the button of his pants. "And I'm sure you're going to enjoy it." He grinned, pulling his pants down just enough to expose his semi-erect penis. Picky ultimately looked quite disgusted, to which his father murmured "Oh, you don't like it? Well, I guess you're just going to have to learn." He rubbed the back of his son's head and continued, "It's okay, everybody has to learn at some point or another." He then pushed his head closer to his crotch. "Lick it."
"I�I don't�" Picky gritted his teeth. Consequently, his face was crushed harder against the clammy, warm flesh and the bristly patch of hair that surrounded it.
"Picky, my boy, you know better than to disobey me�don't you?" He eased up slightly, letting the boy look up at him. "If not, then you'll learn. You're going to learn a lot tonight, aren't you?" Aloysius smiled down at him and let go of his head. "Now, lick it."
The boy weighed his options. His father was much larger than he was, in both dimensions. If he continued struggling, the man could easily do quite a bit of damage. However, if he cooperated and did this one thing�well, what's the worse that can happen? He groaned softly, and tried not to think of exactly what he was going to do. Closer and closer he inched, taking as much time as he pleased. He slipped the tip of his tongue out and ran it along the underside of his cock.
It really wasn't as bad as he expected it to be; there wasn't much of a taste and the most unpleasant thing was the thought that the organ belonged to his own father. He lightly encircled the length with both hands and licked once more, from the hilt to the head. "Now, right there. The tip." The man murmured to him, stroking the back of Picky's head. "Keep going."
And so he obeyed, paying attention to the bulbous head, gently rubbing his lips against the underside. Hesitantly, he took it into his mouth, sucking lightly and swirling his tongue around it. Taking the soft moans that escaped from his father's mouth as encouragement, Picky swallowed his timidity down as far as he could and sped up. A salty taste quickly spread across his tongue. He balked at this, pulling away slightly before that same fat hand pressed his head forward.
"I didn't say�stop," His father grunted. "You will keep going until�I cum."
That confused Picky. He didn't know what he was talking about, and was honestly somewhat frightened at what it could possibly mean. With the moans and groans growing in intensity, with the hand frequently urging him to take more of the clammy thing into his mouth, he could tell that something was coming. Something he really didn't want to think about.
Nevertheless, he complied and tried his best to suck more of the length. He found himself, as much as he tried not to, murmuring quietly, letting moans slip from the small space between his lips and Aloysius's cock. Not to mention, the slurping noises that occurred when he pulled away to breathe weren't doing much to keep him from feeling overwhelmingly embarrassed.
But he diligently pressed on. After this was over, he could go. He was sure of it. He could go and ignore his stupid brother and just go to sleep. Right? Of course right.
Picky tried his best to continue swirling his tongue around the thick length, but he could scarcely get it halfway around before feeling like he was going to choke. Instead, he lightly flicked the underside of the head. Once in awhile, his hands, still cupped around the hilt, would jerk up, earning a forceful grunt from his father. The salty taste was ever present in his mouth, and he was beginning to feel a slimy substance coat his tired tongue.
With no warning other than a final, loud groan, a thick ooze shot into his mouth. Picky pulled away, shocked, and let the stuff ungracefully leak out. Another rope was spurted onto his face, along with another, creating somewhat of an X. He sat there a moment, dumbfounded, still holding the now-limp member.
Again, Aloysius's hand stroked the back of his head. "You did good. Better than I thought you would've. I'm proud of you." Taking this as a signal, Picky rose. "Ah," warned his father. "Now, I didn't say we were done, did I? Come here." But he just continued to stand in place, still a bit delirious.
"Wh�what?" He asked.
"I said, come here. You're not very good at following basic commands, are you boy? Come to me. I want you to sit on my lap." He tugged on his son's hand.
"Um." Picky mumbled, awkwardly seating himself on the edge of the man's knee. He was immediately squashed into his fat stomach. "Good," he soothed. "That's good. Feels nice to get off your knees, hmm?" He slipped one hand up the boy's shirt, causing him to arch his back. "Hmm�?"
"Yeah, I�guess." He shifted, uncomfortable. What's going on? Wasn't he done? What else is there he could do?
His hand slowly slid downward, into Picky's pants. He didn't resist, sticking with his previous decision to be as docile as possible. But not knowing what was going to happen next made him horribly nervous. He fidgeted as his father worked his hand between his buttocks.
"Take your shirt off," he ordered. Reluctantly, the boy complied, sucking his arms into his shirt and pulling it over his head. The man himself began working on his shorts, fiddling blindly with the button and zipper. Finally, he got them off, letting them hang on his son's ankles, and continued fondling his ass.
One hand withdrew from his behind and migrated up to his face. Two fat fingers were rather forcefully stuck into his mouth, twisting around his tongue. No words were said. It was nearly silent, if it weren't for Picky's murmurs and slurps. This continued for what seemed like ages to the son. He wished his dad would just get it over with�
As if on cue, Aloysius took his fingers from his mouth and thrust them between Picky's legs, into the tight hole he forgot he even had. Just as suddenly as the fingers made their way inside, he began to scream. His mouth was quickly covered.
"Hush, now, son. It'll be over soon," his father reassured him. However, Picky couldn't keep himself from groaning as loud as he could. That was it. He wanted someone to know he was in here; he wouldn't care if it were Pokey or anyone. He wanted someone to save him.
He really thought he was going to die.
Mercilessly, the man continued to plunge his fingers in and out, in and out. He grinned at the guttural noises his child was making and started to speed up. Tears had begun to stream down his boy's cheeks, soaking the edge of his hand. It was all he could do to keep himself from laughing.
"You're so pitiful, boy," he chuckled, slightly out of breath. "You're so pathetic."
He didn't get a verbal response. Instead, a fresh torrent of grunts poured into his palm.
"Are you ready? I think you're ready. Let's keep going." He picked Picky up by the hips and lowered him onto his once-again hard cock. The boy's mouth was covered just in time to capture a loud yelp. The man snorted onto his neck, still smirking. His ass was so tight, so ridiculously tight that he had a difficult time thrusting. In order to get a better chance, he quickly swapped places with his son, letting him lean on the chair while he stood. To keep him quiet, he shoved his face down on the warm, smooth leather.
It worked. He rested his stomach on Picky's back and carried on with more ease than he had had previously. The cries weren't as well-muffled as they were when he used his hand, but it would do. This wouldn't take long anyway. With the warm, smoothness clutching his dick, he already felt like he was ready to blow.
On the other hand, his son was not having as good a time. The leather smelled�and tasted, for that matter�terrible, and having a large, hard object lodged inside of him was not much fun either. Regardless, he couldn't keep himself from clenching and unclenching his asshole, making somewhat of a sucking motion which seemed to drive his father crazy. Faster and faster, it was pushed in and out of him. He didn't think he could take much more; without a doubt, he would die soon�He felt blood�
The way his ass milked and engulfed Aloysius was indeed driving him mad. He couldn't just cum now, not when it felt so good. He had to keep it in just a little longer�just a little longer�
"Dah�Dad!" Picky grunted. "Yuh�stop�I can't take anymore! I really ca-ah-an't!"
"Su�re you can! Don't�guh�wimp out now. I'm almost�"
Again, gobs of sticky white stuff shot out of his penis, this time straight into his ass. Aloysius had stopped moving long enough to cum inside, allowing his son a twinge of relief. After he had filled him sufficiently with sperm, he gracelessly fell out of the boy. The son allowed himself to relax a bit.
"Ah," the man sighed. "That was good. You weren't that bad."
Silence.
"Get your clothes back on, now, before anyone comes. If you hadn't been so damn loud, you wouldn't have to worry about it."
Without cleaning himself up, without a word to his father, Picky dressed himself. Just to spite him, however, he took his time. The man sat down again and relit his pipe. He turned from him, puffing softly on it, and let him leave quietly. There was nothing more he needed.
Limping, the boy made his way back to his room. Pokey was now reclining on his bed, playing a video game. At the sound of his brother's entrance, he looked up and asked "How bad did you get it? You were in there for hours. I'll bet you got it really bad. What'd you do?"
"Just shut up," Picky muttered. "I don't want to talk about it." With this, he flopped facedown on his own bed, neglecting to undress one more time.
"Loser." The older brother snorted and turned back to his video game.
It was already night, past time for him to be going to bed. He tried rolling over, but was stopped by a sharp pain. He quickly gave up and turned his head so he could breathe well enough. No matter how hard he tried to sleep, he knew he'd never be able to. He'd shut his eyes and be bombarded by an image of that little patch of hair he had to stare at for what seemed like forever. Try as he might, he just couldn't shake the feeling of his father's�his father's�penis filling him up. Not to mention, he could swear he felt that white stuff dripping down his leg. He wiggled uncomfortably.
What was he going to do in the morning? He couldn't just limp down there and announce that he'd been�raped. If he said a word, surely Aloysius would beat him. Surely. What was he going to do?
Listlessly, he turned his head again. In time, he fell into a fitful sleep, leaving his brother there to wonder what exactly had happened.
- 1
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In Which Picky is Punished