#striderclan

Binary is evilllllll. Bloopers up next.

I don’t know why, but I haven’t wanted to post anything I’ve done with my new mic. Like, everything I’ve recorded I either didn’t like or just didn’t want to share. It’s weird. BUT I’m forcing myself to actually post this finally.

"I’m not a puppet.”

"I be so sick of bein called cute!" Dizzle shouts as he entas tha crib nearly throwin his bag against tha kitchen counter.

Bro turns n' looks over tha back of tha futon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Sorry ta tell ya, babe. But you’re a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty-ass shota."

"What. That don’t even make sense. I’m eighteen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. That’s automatically make me not a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty-ass shota."

"You’ll always be a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty-ass shota, Dave. Forever cute," Bro declares as he gets up off tha futon n' stretches yo. Dude catches how tha fuck Dave’s eyes track ta tha strip of skin showin between his hoodie n' pants.

Dizzle just muttas a soft "jerkface" n' pouts as tha pimpin' muthafucka turns ta git some apple juice. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Suddenly Bro is right behind his ass n' rufflin his hair.

"It’s all gravy, squirt. I’ll git ya tha funky grill pancake from IHOP. Imagine all tha chedda we’ll save gettin’ ya kiddie meals." Dizzle glares up at his ass wit a thugged-out dirtnap threat. Bro imagines he’s thankin ‘I'ma cappin' you wit toothpicks n' laugh’ n' just smirks.

"I’m goin ta go loot yo' brew."

"It’s on tha top shelf; can ya reach it, biatch? Or do you need mah crazy ass ta give ya a funky-ass boost, kiddo?"

"I don't give a fuck bout you all muthafuckin day."

"Sure ya do, dopeheart. Do ya want me ta pour yours tha fuck into yo' sippy cup?"

"Oh mah fuck!" Dizzle shouts as he rolls his wild lil' fuckin eyes hard enough ta tip his head n' starts stompin off ta his bangin room.

"Oh c’mon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Don’t throw a tantrum." Bro grabs his wrist n' tugs his ass playfully back towardz tha futon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Here, I’ll git ya yo' straight-up blankie n' turn on some MLP ta go with. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. See how tha fuck sick I am?"

Dizzle levels a cold-ass lil def stare at Bro. "Yo ass just want me ta sock you so you have a excuse ta beat mah ass up in a strife."

"I’m just bein kind, sugar. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Nuthin’ wack wit dis shit. Now, do I need ta cut up yo' pizzy tha fuck into bites, biatch? Or can you be a funky-ass big-ass pimp n' not choke yo ass on suttin' dat ain’t a cold-ass lil cock?"

"Alright asshole," Dizzle growls, "I’m gonna cut you tha fuck into lil bites." Dude lunges at Bro whoz ass dodges just ta tha side, wrappin a arm round his waist n' liftin a yelling, cursin Dizzle up ta his broad shoulder n' shiznit yo. Dude ignores all of tha threats n' flailin n' carefully dips down ta grab two swordz before headin up n' up tha stairs yo. Dude don’t take much concern fo' any door frames or low ceilings or corners. In fact, Dizzle swears dat Bro might straight-up be aimin fo' dem as da perved-out muthafucka strugglez ta brang up in his wild lil' fuckin elbows n' keeps his head low ta keep dem from smackin tha fuck into tha hard surfaces.

"Yo ass motherfucker playa! I don't give a fuck bout you like it aint no thang!" his schmoooove ass cries out, tha yells echoin a lil' bit up in tha staircase yo. Dude kicks his hairy-ass legs n' slams his wild lil' fist tha fuck into Bro’s back yo. Dude manages ta land a kidney blasted causin Bro ta flinch just slightly, enough ta accidentally on purpose knock Dave’s knees tha fuck into a gangbangin' fire extinguisher.

"Keep dat up, kid, n' you’re goin’ o’er tha edge n' whate’er special trick ya had as a funky-ass baby- n' god, you was a thugged-out baby, whatever happened -I don’t be thinkin you gots no more, no matta how tha fuck hard I throw yo' ass," Bro finishes as da ruffneck drops Dizzle onto tha roof.

"Doof!" Dizzle wheezes up yo. Dude scramblez ta right his dirty ass just up in time ta catch tha sword bein lobbed up in his fuckin lil' direction. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Yo ass could have just holla'd ‘Roof. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Strife. Now,’ like you probably do." Dude falls tha fuck into a gangbangin' fightin locked n loaded stance. "Why do you gotta be such a asshat bout it?" Dizzle make tha straight-up original gangsta lunge knowin it won’t straight-up do much but still hopin dat he might catch Bro off guard.

His hopes is dashed as Bro easily knocks it away. "How tha fuck is I supposed ta know if yo' stubby lil hairy-ass legs can make it up tha stairs, biatch? I carried ya round as a gangbangin' finger-lickin' diapered li’l shiznit n' I’ll continue ta do so ‘til ya can beat me up in a strife, brat." And up in a funky-ass breath he flips from bein on tha defensive under Dave’s thrusts n' slashes ta bein on tha bitch ass n' makin Dizzle counta n' parry ta keep tha edge of Bro’s blade away from his skin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Dave’s footwork be a lil' bit sloppy from all of tha teasin n' tauntin gettin ta him, not ta mention tha light bruisings gathered on tha trip upstairs.

"Then I git ta carry you around?" Dizzle asks up in disbelief as his thugged-out lil' punk-ass barely parries a strike up in time before retreatin all dem steps, "I can’t just toss yo' fat ass over mah shoulder anytime of tha day. It make me wanna hollar playa! And knowin you, you’d be bustin up like a biatch n' biiiatchin fo' me ta move you between tha kitchen n' livin room every last muthafuckin five minutes!"

Bro bigs up his ass as he falls back, pressin enough ta keep his ass on his cold-ass toes yo, but not goin fo' win just yet. "Muthafucka, you’re mah retirement plan. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I took care of yo' shiznit when you was lil' n' helpless, n' you’re gonna take care of mine when I be oldschool n' helpless. Fuck yeah, you’re gonna carry mah ass. Why d’ya be thinkin I was trainin’ ya so hard?"

"Yo ass betta start hustlin me ta be a liftin champion then instead of a swordz master," da perved-out muthafucka spits up yo. Dude tries ta bust enough space ta cook up a bitch ass move yo, but endz up havin ta retreat even further n' shit. "Yo ass betta not ask me ta suck yo' dick when you’ve gotten oldschool n' wrinkled cuz there is no fuckin way that’s eva happening."

"Oh I’m shizzle you’ll have put me outta mah misery by then. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But ya gots nuff dick suckin’ muthafuckin years ahead of ya, ya twink."

"Oh hell no we’re not bustin some assisted suicizzle pact up in dis biatch, Bro." Dizzle has ta roll under Bro’s swing, tha sword top grazin tha thin metal of tha air conditionin block yo. Dude comes up wit too much momentum n' is off balance, fallin back a lil even as his schmoooove ass continues ta run his crazy-ass grill, "Shiznit, if you was horny, all you had ta do was ask, asshole."

"Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck say I’m sayin’ any of that, munchkin, biatch? Ain’t no way I’m livin’ dat long without steppin’ on enough toes ta git offed." Bro reaches up n' grabs Dave’s wrist ta pull his ass back up in tha opposite direction, away from tha thin railin da thug was bout ta hit n' back towardz tha centa of tha roof. "And why would I proposizzle jailbait, biatch? I could git arrested fo' that?"

"Fuck!" Dizzle stumblez when he’s thrown back towardz open ground. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude manages ta brang up his sword up in time ta catch Bro’s descendin blow dat knocks his ass off balizzle again n' again n' again up in a lil bit less thuggy position. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Oh, so askin me fo' a funky-ass blow thang is illegal fo' you but whoopin me tha fuck into submission wit a sword then gettin a funky-ass blow thang is fine?" Dizzle asks wit indignation.

"Well, how tha fuck is I supposed ta tell how tha fuck oldschool ya is when you’re actin’ like a right brat?" Bro starts directin his blows at Dave’s hairy-ass legs n' feet ta keep his ass ridin' dirty.

"Yo ass sonovabitch! I-" he’s cut off as da thug winces when his crazy-ass musclez start ta scream from tha constant retreat n' inabilitizzle ta git solid footin before havin ta move even quicker ta avoid Bro’s sword. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Yo ass fuckin started it asshole biaaatch! Called mah crazy ass a goddamned shota!"

"You’re not a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty-ass shota?" Bro asks casually as da thug works Dizzle back ta tha wall. Da flicker of tha blade keeps Dave’s attention up in front of his muthafuckin ass. "Well then, dat just make mah victory lap worthwhile. Maybe I’ll take mo' than just yo' grill," Bro leers at him, golden eyes gleamin over tha top of his shades.

Dizzle is too busy tryin ta keep from gettin sliced up in half ta come up wit a retort. Bro’s blade is comin too quick n' he keeps havin ta back up yo. He’s unable ta cook up a move ta either side without Bro’s blade stoppin his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude also can’t stop tha bangin' blush creepin across his wild lil' grill all up in tha comment. "Dirty oldschool dude," he manages ta git out, soundin less venomous than da thug wanna.

Bro just smirks at his ass n' watches as tha wall of tha staircase looms above Dave’s head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Menstrually his schmoooove ass counts off tha steps Dizzle has left. Three, two, one.. yo. Dude watches as Dave’s eyes go wide wit realization as his back hits tha wall yo. Dude tries ta dodge left but is stopped by a swin of Bro’s sword. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude barely gets his sword up in time ta block tha next swipe aimed at his head which puts his thugged-out arms at a awkward angle.

"Shiznit."

Bro takes advantage of tha posizzle n' snakes a hand up round both of his wrists, effectively pinnin Dave. "Gotcha." Dude leans up in close. "Who’s mah biiiatch?"

Dizzle glares up at his ass n' strugglez against his fuckin larger hand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude tries ta land a kick ta distract Bro enough ta break tha hold, even if dat schmoooove muthafucka has a sinkin feelin dat he is just drawin up tha inevitable yo. Dude smirks a lil when one kick hits solidly against Bro’s shin, feelin vindictizzle bout tha whole set up earlier n' shit. Bro don’t even flinch yo. Dude maintains his thugged-out lil' poker grill even all up in tha pain, menstrually promisin ta make tha brat pay fo' tha skanky blasted later.

"C’mon now, you know tha magic lyrics. Who’s yo' daddy, biatch? Who’s gonna make you his biiiatch tonight?"

Dizzle huffs n' finally stops strugglin despite tha fire still up in his wild lil' fuckin eyes yo. Dude draws up tha moment not wantin ta surrender just yet but seein no other course of action. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Finally he mumbles, "Yo ass are. I surrender... daddy."

"Dope boy," Bro returns, trippin' off tha spike of pleasure all up in tha phrase yo. Dude carefully uses his own sword hand ta pluck Dave’s away yo. Dude tosses dem both ta tha ground. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "What do a funky-ass biiiatch say when he’s askin fo' his thugged-out lil' punishment?" Dude reaches down n' starts unfuckin wit his jeans yo. Dude carefully watches Dave’s expression as his brutha tries ta maintain his composure.

"Please, daddy," Dizzle licks his fuckin lips, "Teach me a lesson?"

"Oh straight-up good, boy, straight-up hot." Bro shoves his jeans down his hips just enough ta git his ding-a-ling out. Usin his handz trappin Dave’s wrists above his head, he pushes his ass down ta his knees ta git his ass eye level wit his quickly stiffenin dick. Bro tilts his hips forward, brushin tha head against Dave’s lips. "Open wide fo' me, hun."

Dizzle keeps his wild lil' fuckin eyes turned up ta Bro, not fightin tha shiver dat runs up his spine at bein called a phat pimp n' bein forced ta his knees yo. Dude obediently opens his crazy-ass grill n' immediately leans forward ta lick a stripe from base ta tip yo. Dude then sucks tha head past his soft lips n' tha fuck into his crazy-ass grill. Bro moans lowly all up in tha touches yo. Dude has ta restrain his dirty ass from just thrustin tha fuck into dat slick heat of his brother’s grill though cause I gots dem finger-lickin' chickens wit tha siz-auce. Instead he make Dizzle lean away from tha wall ta git ta him, shouldaz strainin against his fuckin locked arms. "Tha’s it, babe, suck mah cock."

Dizzle would be rollin his wild lil' fuckin eyes all up in tha cheesy line if da thug wasn’t too busy whinin all up in tha way Bro make his ass struggle ta keep his ding-a-ling up in place. When it finally slips outta his crazy-ass grill momentarily, he looks up wit a thugged-out devilish look. "Please daddy." Then da perved-out muthafucka stretches forward again, tha twinge up in his joints goin straight ta his fuckin lil' dick yo. Dude starts suckin up in earnest n' hums his thugged-out approval when Bro can’t stop his dirty ass from slidin his hips forward.

"Shiznit," Bro curses underneath his breath. Da combination of Dave’s eagernizz ta git mo' of his ding-a-ling tha fuck into dat bangin' grill n' beggin wit tha taboo moniker n' shit. "Goddamn, ya li’l twink. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Such a whore fo' humiliation, such a pain supa-ho. Bet ya wanna it if I just turned ya ‘round n' fucked ya up against tha wall." Bro’s dick twitches all up in tha thought.

Dizzle also groans n' looks up all up in tha suggestion. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude traces his cold-ass tongue over every last muthafuckin thang his schmoooove ass can reach n' tries ta keep Bro closer by startin ta suck but also lightly scrapes his cold-ass teeth along tha underside of Bro’s dick ta try n' entice his ass ta start fuckin his wild lil' grill or make phat on his cold-ass threat.

"Watch it, brat," Bro growls down at his muthafuckin ass. But his schmoooove ass can’t stay mad salty or even threatenin at dem ruby red eyes starin up wit dem pink puffy lips wrapped round his cock. It’s a pimpin' sight dat has Bro’s dick twitchin again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "If ya fuck up again, I’ll take it up on yo' ass."

Dude goes ta thrust tha fuck into Dave’s grill when they hear voices up in tha stairwell. It’s a quick "up here" up in a male’s voice n' then a biatch giggling. Bro almost cuts his dirty ass on Dave’s teeth pullin up so quickly n' nearly catches his dirty ass as he zips up. Dizzle nearly chokes on tha unrestricted air he’s suddenly able ta inhale yo. Dude too scramblez away, grabbin tha swordz as he goes so they won’t be up in sight of tha stairwell door yo. Dude looks up ta Bro n' glances towardz tha fire escape n' then back ta Bro, raisin a eyebrow up in question fo' orders.

"Git downstairs, kid. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! And have me some brew waitin n' git dat ass naked n' locked n loaded fo' mah dirty ass. I’ma have some funk wit tha neighbors," he grins wicked n' flicks his wrist at Dizzle shooin his ass on.

Dizzle gulps all up in tha implicationz of his commandz yo. Dude almost feels sorry fo' tha lil playas comin upstairs yo, but then he’s hoppin on tha fire escape n' outta view moments lata n' soon much too busy thankin bout his own ass n' what tha fuck bro might be plannin ta do ta his ass as ‘punishment.’ Dude make it ta they floor n' slides up in all up in tha bedroom window.

Bro listens ta tha fadin rattle of metal contrastin wit tha stompin comin up tha stairs. Bro rolls his wild lil' fuckin eyes as tha newcomers slow down as they apparently git tired. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da door flies open n' da thug watches a funky-ass pimp n' hoe tumble out, lookin younger than Dave. Bro snorts menstrually ta his dirty ass afta callin Dizzle all dem lil' names. They start makin up in front of his ass without even checkin they surroundings fo' realz. Amateurs.

Dude slips tha fuck into his crazy-ass menacin guardian role dat he’s had ta pull up a cold-ass lil couple times on tha twins n' comes ta loom over dem until they notice yo. Dude lets up a squeak n' pushes tha hoe up in front of his muthafuckin ass.

"What floor is ya from, biatch? Do yo' muthafathas know you’re up here gettin’ all handsy?" Bro rumblez out. "D’ya have protection, biatch? Ya know safe sex is blingin n' all."

Da look of absolute horror of they faces, coupled by tha way they scramble fo' tha stairwell has Bro nearly doubled over wit laughter n' shiznit yo. Dude calls up warnings bout tha stairs afta they is outta hearin range. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Still snickerin ta his dirty ass over how tha fuck he just cockblocked his cockblockers, dat schmoooove muthafucka headz back down ta where Dizzle is hurriedly preparing.

Dizzle don’t know how tha fuck long he’ll have before Bro is pissed wit fuckin wit dem skanky souls upstairs so he races ta put tha swordz aways n' strip his dirty ass of his threadz yo. Dude runs ta tha fridge ta git tha brew, scramblin all up in tha kitchen drawers ta find a opener only ta realize it’s a twist-off yo. Dude places it on tha fruity-ass malt liquor table n' then stalls fo' a moment yo. Dude wondaz if da perved-out muthafucka should also try ta prep his dirty ass, "Fuck dat shit." Dude grabs tha lube n' is only just pushin his wild lil' first finger in, wincin all up in tha rush n' beatboxin all up in tha resultin pain simultaneously when dat schmoooove muthafucka hears tha door open.

Bro pauses ta take up in tha scene. It’s always a pleasant sight ta peep when one of tha twins is bent over, ass up on tha futon hustlin a gangbangin' finger tha fuck into his cold-ass tight hole, n' is dat a funky-ass brew ta tha side, biatch? Perfect. Bro kicks off his Nikes n' flops down on tha futon next ta his brother, straight-up ignorin what tha fuck he is bustin.

"Where is mah brew?" Dude holdz his hand up expectantly.

Dizzle freezes as tha pimpin' muthafucka takes a moment ta process before lookin ta tha brew n' then back ta Bro before leanin up ta git balanced on his knees, without takin up tha finger dat he’s preppin his dirty ass with, ta reach forward wit his other hand n' grab tha brew n' shiznit yo. Dude places it up in Bro’s hand n' then hesitates, unsure if da perved-out muthafucka should continue preppin his dirty ass or if da perved-out muthafucka should try ta git his crazy-ass grill back round Bro’s dick.

"D-did I do good, daddy?" dat schmoooove muthafucka hazardz tryin ta git a gangbangin' feel fo' what tha fuck Bro is planning.

"Did I tell ya ta prep yo ass, ya greedy li’l biiiatch." Bro takes a swig of brew n' shit. "I’ll give ya a hint, yo' ass is ‘bout ta be red."

Dizzle falls back ta tha futon, barely gettin his wild lil' free arm down up in time ta keep his ass from faceplantin as tha comment catches his ass off guard. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude pulls his wild lil' fingers away from where da thug was preppin his dirty ass wit a strangled moan. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude looks over at Bro. "I be sorry, daddy. I-I just thought, when you holla'd ta git mah ass ready, dat you wanted..." he skits along but his schmoooove ass can't hide how tha fuck hard his fuckin lil' dick has gotten from anticipation.

"Ya thought ya could outsmart me son, biatch? Ya be thinkin you’re smarta than daddy?" Bro raises a eyebrow at his muthafuckin ass.

"N-no I’m- I didn’t mean to, daddy, I-"

"Git yo' ass o’er here," he pats his fuckin lap, "and do it properly."

Dude whimpers all up in tha tone but quickly moves over ta Bro’s lap n' lays his dirty ass over Bro’s legs yo. Dude can’t help tha shiver dat goes up his spine when he pictures how tha fuck he must look wit his thugged-out ass pushed up n' vulnerable yo. Dude bites his fuckin lip ta keep from beggin fo' it so soon.

Bro sets tha cold brew on tha middle of his back, bustin a yelp from tha sudden cold sensation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Bro’s other hand rubs over tha proffered ass as if gettin it warmed up. "D’ya know what tha fuck happens ta wack thugs, Davey?"

Dizzle moans at Bro’s hand on his thugged-out ass n' has ta try twice before his schmoooove ass can keep his voice up in check ta answer Bro. "They git punished, daddy." Dude bites his fuckin lip n' glances over his shoulder at Bro waitin fo' tha straight-up original gangsta strike.

"Dope boy, Davey." Dude pulls his hand back n' brangs it back down wit a smack, makin Dizzle cry up yo. Dude alternates between takin sipz of brew wit brangin his hand down over n' over as Dizzle manages ta mufflez his crazy-ass moans tha fuck into tha cushions yo. Dude can’t help how tha fuck his hips jerk against Bro’s hairy-ass legs wit each strike n' his handz scramble ta try ta find suttin' ta clin ta dat might help his ass from how tha fuck turned on he is yo. Hasslin tha teens had taken tha edge off Bro’s erection yo, but tha way Dizzle was rubbin against his fuckin leg was makin his jeans tight again.

"Please biaaatch! Da-AH!-ddy!" Dizzle stuttas up as Bro hits harder n' shiznit yo. Dude wondaz what tha fuck it would take ta git Bro ta tie his ass down n' leave his thugged-out ass stingin fo' days yo. Dude be thinkin bout tryin ta jerk his dirty ass off which might git his ass cuffs n' a harsher punishment yo, but then there be always tha chizzle dat Bro might also just restrain his ass n' not let his ass come ta teach his ass a lesson. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. And da ruffneck don’t wanna go all up in dat again; Dizzle shuddaz all up in tha memory of dat week yo. Dude bides his cold-ass time fo' now n' make shizzle ta rut again n' again n' again tha growin bulge up in Bro’s pants.

Bro finishes off his brew n' then set it down on Dave’s back, lettin it go briefly until Dizzle figures up what tha fuck da thug wants n' adjusts his dirty ass ta where it will stand on his own. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da posizzle pulls Dizzle away from Bro’s lap, makin his ass support his dirty ass on shaky arms.

"Don’t spill it," da thug warns as his handz git all up in his jeans ta undo dem fo' tha second time dis evening. Dizzle whines n' tries ta calm tha bobbin of his fuckin limbs, unsure if da thug would trip off tha consequences fo' spillin tha brew or if it would straight-up be a punishment, not realizin tha forty is straight-up empty. But up in dis posizzle his schmoooove ass can’t rut against Bro n' all his schmoooove ass can straight-up do is wait on Bro ta git his fuckin lil' damn baggy-ass pants off n' hope he’ll git a hand on his fuckin lil' dick soon, leather gludd or not.

"Daddy, please bust a nut on me again!" Punishment be damned, Dizzle be thinkin as da perved-out muthafucka starts ta edge a hand under his dirty ass when da ruffneck don’t git a response from Bro. One bust a nut on wouldn’t be too wack right. Not while Bro be jumpin' off tha hook yo. His plans is fucked up as Bro gets his jeans down ta mid thigh yo, but brushes against Dave’s hand wrappin round his neglected dick as he is pullin back.

"Davey, biatch? Whatcha doin’?"

Dizzle freezes n' stiffens. "I was- I just tho- you was busy n' I just wanted ta touch..." tha pimpin' muthafucka trails off n' cuz Bro’s flat tone of voice aint givin anythang away, Dizzle tries ta look back at Bro ta peep his wild lil' grill or erection. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude findz Bro grinnin maniacally down at his fuckin lil brutha n' shiznit yo. Dude snatches tha brew forty up n' tosses it away carefully.

"Wanderin’ idle handz is tha devil’s plaything, ya know." His conversationizzle tone is offset but tha sharp movements he uses ta toss Dizzle off his fuckin lap, wit a quick yelp of "shit!", long enough ta slip up from under his ass n' then ta toss his ass back down tha fuck into tha cushions, grill down n' ass up yo. Dude don’t give Dizzle a warnin as da thug wandaz away briefly.

Dizzle muttas another "shit" but dis time when he’s left without instructions, he keep his handz up in front of his ass n' don’t move from where Bro positioned his ass except ta turn his head ta try n' follow Bro’s movements, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. Bro glances over his shoulder n' hums up in approval dat Dizzle hasn’t moved as he picks up tha leather n' metal cuffs. Then da ruffneck disappears from view ta reappear all up in tha end of tha futon wit only tha clank of tha chain against tha futon supports ta give his ass away secondz before tha cuffs is round Dave’s wrists.

"Now, how tha fuck wack do you be thinkin you’ve been, biatch? Do you be thinkin you deserve just mah hand or should I go git tha paddle?"

Dave’s eyes widen all up in tha suggestion. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude moans wantonly all up in tha thought of a paddle even as tha pimpin' muthafucka tugs on tha cuffs ta check his bangin restraints, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. They’ve never done dat before; they’ve done hand n' crop n' he enjoyed dem yo. He’s not shizzle how tha fuck much it’ll hurt but his fuckin lil' dick is twitchin just imaginin it fo' realz. And he imagines how tha fuck he’ll feel it fo' days.

"I’m sorry, daddy. I’ve been straight-up bad. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I deserve worse than yo' hand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I want- I-" Dude tries ta ask fo' tha paddle but starts stutterin n' gives up, hopin Bro will KNOW how tha fuck turned on he is.

Bro nodz n' strutts over ta tha desk ta grab tha paddle, pullin off tha cellophane wrapper n' shiznit yo. Dude runs his hand over tha smooth surface, tryin ta imagine how tha fuck Dizzle will feel bout it, how tha fuck it’ll feel on his thugged-out ass yo. Dude taps it against his thugged-out lil' palm, testin its heft n' bite yo. Dude smilez at how tha fuck it feels. Dave’s eyes is glued ta Bro n' his thugged-out lil' punk-ass bites his fuckin lip hard watchin his muthafuckin ass.

"Let’s peep if dis ain’t too much fo' ya," da perved-out muthafucka suggests as his schmoooove ass comes back ta tha futon n' standz next ta Dizzle yo. Dude pulls on Dave’s hips ta git his thugged-out ass up in tha air wit his chest pressed tha fuck into tha futon n' his thugged-out arms outstretched towardz tha end of tha futon above his head like some perverse yoga move yo. Dude gently places it against Dave’s ass ta let his ass git used ta tha feeling. Dizzle bows his head n' whines when he feels it come ta rest against his thugged-out ass yo. Dude don’t comment on bein able ta handle it yo. Dude has no clue if his schmoooove ass can fo' all his thugged-out apparent fetish fo' pain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. This is freshly smoked up territory yo. His body be abuzz wit tension n' expectation as da thug waits fo' tha straight-up original gangsta strike ta come.

Bro starts wit a light tap, less force than da thug would apply wit his hand ta let Dizzle git use ta tha bite. Bro assumes he likes it from tha gasp n' moan. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude delivers a second blow wit a lil' bit mo' oomph dat give a pleasant crack against his skin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude continues on, carefully gaugin Dave’s responses as he increases tha force behind each hit, pausin ta dig tha delicious soundz Dizzle makes yo. Dude lets Dizzle croon fo' a lil' bit as da perved-out muthafucka slips all tha way outta his baggy-ass pants n' shirt.

"Dope boy, Davey, phat boy," Bro drops some lyrics ta his ass as da perved-out muthafucka starts up again.

Dave’s body is on fire fo' realz. All of his nerves is cross firin between pain n' pleasure n' all his schmoooove ass can do is moan tha fuck into tha cushions yo. Dude jerks wit each progressively harder hit n' make choked soundz of pleasure up in tha back of his cold-ass throat as tha stin bites tha fuck into his thugged-out already sore flesh yo. Dude aint shizzle if his wild lil' fuckin eyes is waterin from tha pain or pleasure n' can’t be bothered ta figure it up as da thug wishes desperately dat his fuckin lil' dick was rubbin against suttin' instead of just hangin between his hairy-ass legs twitching, especially when Bro aims all up in tha junction between tha topz of his wild lil' fat-ass thighs n' tha curve of his thugged-out ass feelin tha air from tha paddle landin against his balls.

"Da-d-ddy!" he moans up brokenly.

"Goddamn, you’re a funky-ass bangin' li’l motherfucker." Bro cranks up tha hits still, watchin as Dave’s body jolts forwards. Da skin be a funky-ass dope bright red over his quiverin muscles. Bro starts tuggin at his dirty ass wit his wild lil' free hand, gettin hit dat shiznit up over tha way Dizzle accepts tha pain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da bangin crack of a slick hit fills tha room along wit Bro’s moans.

With dat hit Dizzle keens n' tremblez n' feels like every last muthafuckin thang is too much. It’s like a overload of his circuits yo. Dude feels like he might faint yo. Dude can’t git his fuckin lungs ta work properly fo' realz. And all dat shiznit feels so dunkadelic yo. Dude probably be lookin like a funky-ass bangin' mess wit his thugged-out ass bright red n' his fuckin lil' dick so hard n' just bobbin all over n' shiznit yo. His grill is wet from some combination of droolin n' tears dat dat schmoooove muthafucka hadn’t realized da thug was shedding.

Without even makin tha conscious decision, dat schmoooove muthafucka hears his voice, all rough n' cracking, gasp out, "Al-alchemist fo' realz. Alchemist. Fuck fuckin shiznit fuck."

Bro immediately drops tha paddle n' goes ta Dave’s head, slidin his ass forward n' up away from tha cushions. Da brightnizz of his cheeks matches his thugged-out ass n' his wild lil' grill is shiny. Bro brushes a shitload of tha tears away wit his cold-ass thumbs yo. He’s afraid fo' a moment dat he’s straight-up hurt Dizzle but then Dizzle tries ta catch Bro’s thumb wit his crazy-ass grill, beatboxin n' suckin on tha digit.

"Shhh, shhh, you’re aiiight, you’re aiiight. Doin’ pimped out, babe. Fuckin’ hot. No cryin’ though, none of dis shit. I gotcha. I gotcha now, nahmeean?"

Dave’s eyes is glazed n' it takes a moment ta focus on Bro’s grill fo' realz. And a moment longer ta puzzle up tha worried expression on his olda brother’s grill yo. He’s still so deep up in tha headspace dat his schmoooove ass can’t figure up how tha fuck ta explain he’s all gravy, just dat dat shiznit was suddenly too much pleasure n' pain n' he just needz a moment. Instead da perved-out muthafucka sucks on Bro’s thumb n' twirls his cold-ass tongue lazily around, nibblin light n' tryin ta slow his thugged-out lil' pantin before pullin off ta use his fuckin lyrics.

"So fucking- yes- sorry- damn, sorry I freaked you out. Just, so much, Bro. Can hardly be thinkin still. God, we need ta do dis mo' often so I don’t short circuit so doggystyle." Dude baggy-ass pants n' kisses whatever his schmoooove ass can reach of bro as his voice breaks again, "Can- Can I git some water, biatch? I sound like I’ve been givin tha sandman a funky-ass blow thang. Fuck."

Bro kisses his ass back yo, but don’t release tha cuffs yo. Dude do git up n' grab a funky-ass forty of wata from tha fridge yo. Dude holdz it up ta Dave’s lips until Dizzle shakes his head ta indicate enough.

"Hell yeah, I’m up fo' mo' of this, Dave. God, yo ass is so dope naaahhmean, biatch? Fuckin’ hell I feel like I’ma bust a nut just watchin’ ya."

Dizzle takes a thugged-out deep breath as he finally feels like he’s not bout ta fall ta pieces yo. Dude smilez up at Bro whoz ass just shakes his head all up in tha half lidded blissed up look.

"Let me know if you’re phat ta go again, or if ya just want me ta fuck dat sore ass."

Dave’s still hard dick twitches all up in tha suggestion. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude considaz how tha fuck phat it felt n' how tha fuck much it hurt wit tha paddle n' his schmoooove ass can feel his thugged-out ass throbbin yo. He’s torn between tha desire fo' mo' of dat n' tha need ta git fucked n' ta come. But thankin bout how tha fuck hit dat shiznit they both are, he cook up a thugged-out decision.

"If you start rockin tha paddle again, I’ll probably git off just from dis shit. I’d rather come wit you buried so deep up in me dat yo' hips is grindin tha fuck into dis sore ass." His eyelidz flutta n' he nuzzlez against Bro before adding, "Yo ass can still use yo' hand though... while you’re fuckin mah dirty ass." Dude can’t like hook up Bro’s eyes when he mumbles, still a lil embarrassed at how tha fuck much of a pain supa-ho he straight-up is sometimes.

"Shiznit, Dave. Do you know how tha fuck fuckin’ bangin' yo ass is, biatch? Shiznit." Bro returns tha nuzzle as tha pimpin' muthafucka tries ta control his breathang n' git his dirty ass under control yo. Dude peppers Dave’s grill wit light kisses before standin up yo. Dude runs his handz along tha curved spine as Dizzle settlez back down wit his chest pressed tha fuck into tha futon, arms outstretched, n' ass up in tha air. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Bro bigs up his hips up n' roundz his thugged-out lil' palms across tha bangin' n' dirty ass. Dizzle hums wit anticipation n' hisses all up in tha contact wit his heated skin.

A quick swat gets dem back tha fuck into they roles. "C’mon, baby, beg fo' daddy’s cock."

Dude cries up all up in tha sharp stin from tha slap but instantly starts begging, "Please biaaatch! Daddy, I’ll be good. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! Oh god, please fuck me, daddy dawwwwg! I hustled mah lesson!" Dude has ta stop cuz of a high pitched whine bubblin up in his cold-ass throat cuts his ass of when Bro fondlez his skanky ass. "Oh fuck! Please please please!"

Bro snatches up tha discarded tube of lube n' applies it liberally between his ding-a-ling n' Dave’s ass fo' realz. A quick stretch wit his wild lil' fingers be accompanied by constant kneadin of tha bright ass wit his other hand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude listens ta Dizzle hiss all up in tha pain until he feel Dave’s body chillax just enough cause I gots dem finger-lickin' chickens wit tha siz-auce yo. Dude quickly pulls his wild lil' fingers up n' replaces dem wit tha head of his ding-a-ling before Dizzle can even ask fo' it yo. Dude pulls on Dave’s hips until his thugged-out ass is flat against Bro’s fat-ass thighs, listenin ta tha keenin n' gaspz of tha nearly writhang Dizzle as he’s slowly impaled.

"Ah! Daddy!"

As Bro waits fo' Dizzle ta adjust, Bro smacks tha outside edge of his thugged-out ass. Dizzle jerks n' tightens momentarily all up in tha smack n' moans all over again n' again n' again at how tha fuck it make tha stretch burn even mo' n' mo' n' mo'. "Goddamn, you’re tight fo' realz. All dis pain must straight-up be gettin’ ya off. Ya like bein’ smacked round by daddy, dontcha, biatch? Ya like bein’ daddy’s li’l biiiatch."

Dizzle nodz against tha cushions. "Oh god fo'sho, daddy. I’m yo' biiiatch. I’m sorry I was such a funky-ass brat son! Oh god, so good, daddy. Well shiiiit, it hurts n' it feels so good. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! I gots a straight-up boner fo' dat shiznit son! Please, daddy, more!"

Da beggin almost make Bro come right there, bent over his younger brother’s back. Instead Bro takes a thugged-out deep breath ta calm his dirty ass n' smacks Dizzle a cold-ass lil couple mo' times before finally pistonin his hips up in n' outta tha sore ass yo. His thumbs press tha fuck into tha bangin' flesh n' git mo' mewls n' other straight-up dope soundz as he fucks his brother.

Dizzle be also gettin close as tha combined pain n' build up push his ass towardz tha edge yo. He’s constantly moaning, interrupted only by tha criez of pleasure n' pain from tha continued spankin yo. He’s goin mad wit tha way Bro’s hips slap against his stingin skin n' how tha fuck Bro digs his wild lil' fingers tha fuck into tha quiverin musclez yo. Dude can’t even form lyrics ta beg no mo' as tha pimpin' muthafucka thrusts uselessly against tha air, tryin ta git friction on his ding-a-ling yo. Dude just endz up pushin back tha fuck into Bro’s already brutal strokes.

"Oh fuck! Shiznit, goddamn, ya feel so good, Dave. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So fuckin’ delicious. Ludd hearin’ tha soundz ya make, ludd tha way yo' ass feels muthafucka! Got me so hyped up, li’l bro. Got me feelin’ so good, babe." Bro can’t stop his dirty ass from increasin tha speed n' length of each stroke until tha pleasure gets so intense dat his hips stumble outta rhythm yo. Dude has ta catch his dirty ass on tha cushions as his schmoooove ass curls over Dave’s arched form. he manages ta keep a gangbangin' finger hold on his crazy-ass mind, just enough ta remember ta reach down n' underneath Dave’s hips ta wrap a hand round his ding-a-ling yo. Dude pumps all dem mo' times, matchin his hand ta his hip before stutterin out, "Go-gonna come, f-fuck!"

Dave’s eyes roll back n' he’s mewlin wit every last muthafuckin stroke yo. His hairy-ass legs is tremblin just ta keep from collapsin down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. When Bro’s hand squeezes round his fuckin lil' dick, he’s gone yo. Dude tightens up round Bro n' is only able ta manage a hoarse shout as his schmoooove ass comes yo. He’s not even shizzle if he’s still conscious by tha end of it, he’s so blissed up n' gasping.

Bro bigs up him, dragged over tha edge by Dave’s tightness. Da ghetto disappears up in a white haze as pleasure crashes all up in his ass violently yo. His shout matches Dave’s n' his fuckin lil' dick pumps cum tha fuck into Dave’s ass as Bro holdz his ass tight, pullin his ass against tha cuffs yo. His hips weakly keep thrustin until consciousnizz returns n' he’s finally still save fo' tha shakes hustlin all up in his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude gulps up in as much fresh def air as his schmoooove ass can as his fuckin limbs tingle wit tha rush of blood.

Dude strokes Dave’s sides gently, murmurin ta his ass bout how tha fuck phat he felt n' how tha fuck phat he is. Gingerly he lifts his dirty ass n' slides out. Dizzle whimpers pitifully when Bro pulls free, hissin on tha fuckin' down-lowly whenever his thugged-out ass comes tha fuck into contact wit anything.

Bro fumblez wit tha clasps round Dave’s wrists yo, but eventually gets dem open. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude scoops Dizzle up n' holdz his ass close ta his chest, lettin they hearts thud together as they try ta catch they breaths.

"Holy jesus fuckin’ hell, Dave."

Dave’s limbs is jelly n' his head lolls against Bro’s chest as tha pimpin' muthafucka tries ta come back ta realitizzle enough ta make lyrics.

"Hhngh," well, soundz at least ta start with.

Bro paps Dave’s grill wit a cold-ass lil clumsy hand n' then carefully reaches fo' tha forty of wata ta give ta Dave, once again n' again n' again tippin it up ta his crazy-ass grill fo' his muthafuckin ass.