Caged

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

INTAKE

Joey Peckerwood's hands shook as he pressed the doorbell to Aunt Beatrice's house. The place was being renovated. That much was clear from the piles of dirt in her front yard. The backhoe was idle today, this being the Sabbath.

Joey's index finger was still shaking as he pressed the doorbell. again. He hoped that he would be able to control himself. It wasn't going to be easy, as Dr. Wankerman had cut back on his hyperestrogen prescription from six pills a day to only four.

Suddenly the door opened a crack and he could see his aunt's voluptuous form through her diaphanous Victoria's Secret robe. And what a form it was.

"I'll wait for you to get dressed," he told his favorite maternal aunt.

Aunt Beatrice (Bea for short) slid the chain on her door, looked both ways down the street, and opened the door more widely. "Come on in, my nephew. Don't blush. We're all family here." She pulled him by the arm and catapulted him into her parlor. She again looked up and down the street and closed the door behind her. She was pretty sure that no one had seen Joey coming in.

"I...ah," Joey observed.

"How's my favorite nephew? Don't sweat it, kid! I sleep late on Sunday, that's all. Hence the robe. I won't bite you. Unless you want me to, that is. C'mon, don't be a stranger. Give your auntie a great big hug."

Joey walked over to her, and she threw her arms around him. His first perception was correct. She had indeed waived the bra, teddy and edible underwear portions of her Victoria's Secret ensemble leaving only the transparent silk robe. It was sexier than no clothes at all, Joey thought. He looked down at her soft mega-boobs, which were pressed against his muscular chest. His shaft began to throb. They must have cut his daily dose of hyperestrogen again, without telling him. The pills were unmarked, so he wouldn't be able to tell if they did.

Auntie Bea wrapped her arms around his head and pressed it deeply within her not inconsiderable cleavage. "You know you're my favorite nephew, and I know that you have longed for me as well. Remember how you stared at these pillows when I bent to serve you the kreplach at Anna's bat mitzvah. I'm going to give you the best birthday party any eighteen-year-old ever had, Joey."

She grabbed her nephew's head and brought his lips to hers. She ran her tongue along his lips, raking it over her teeth, snaking it in and out of her mouth. Joey brushed his inexperienced fingers up and down her timelessly magnificent breasts, which she pressed even harder again his chest.

She slid her hands around his waist and grabbed his buttocks, pressing their crotches hard against each other. She slid her hands down to feel his shaft, but was confronted by...nothing. Her hands slipped lower and found the tape holding his tallywhacker hard against his thigh. She thought that she had seen him limping a little when he entered her front door. It would not be the only portal of hers he would enter on this, his one and only eighteenth birthday party, she thought. Not if she had anything to say about it.

She slid her hands up and down Joey's hot, trembling thigh, feeling him quiver with her every touch. "Here, let me unzip you, baby," she said, as she did precisely that. "Let me get you out of those clothes."

She tugged his pants down to the floor. "Now let me get you out of this," she said, as she unbuttoned his shirt, pulled its sleeves over his arms, and threw the shirt on the floor.

"Now last but not least," she said. "Let's free your magnificent schwantz from this prison, shall we?"

Joey nodded his head up and down. "We shall. We shall."

His taped schlong went all the way to his right knee. "Stand up and spread 'em," his incestuous aunt ordered. Joey, not one to question an order, especially one concerning his happy stick, readily complied.

Aunt Bea ran her fingers up the length of his taped katana, and Joey's whole body trembled in anticipated delight. "My, my, my, favorite nephew. You're truly magnificent. It is a shame that I will have to share you with others."

"Share me?" Joey said. "With others? What others?"

"You'll see. All in good time, my delectable nephew. All in good time." She ran her hand up and down his thigh, feeling his hardness under the tape. "My, my, it looks as my sister had Dr. Wankerman cut back on your dose of hyperestrogen again. You are gargantuan, Joey. Brace yourself. This may hurt a little," she said and ripped the tape off Joey's thigh, mega-schtupper, and most painfully, his massive cojones.

"Dare I say 'ouch?'" Joey asked his delightfully domineering aunt.

"You just did," she observed. She slapped Joey's pillar, and it went into a hypnotizing metronome-like oscillation. It must be nine inches, she thought. "Eleven" observed the disembodied voice of Captain Quint, who was memorably devoured in the movie Jaws.

How much she had longed for this moment. And it was here at last.

She closed her grip, squeezing his Brobdingnagian plonker cruelly in her hands. She knelt before him. "Command me, master," she whispered. " I am your eighteenth birthday present."

"Uh uh, uh.."

"Can't think of anything, honey?" Joey's maternal aunt said. "I guess this must be all new to you". She pulled the remaining garments off his body, ripping his Haynes skivvies right off him. "Hey, those are my Michael Jordan shorts," Joey protested.

"Well, you're not going to need any clothes in here, love. We don't want to impede our access to any part of your sublime, naked body."

We? thought Joey. What we? Who are the others?

As if reading his thoughts, Aunt Bea said, "All your questions will be answered in due time, my little pet. All in good time. Meanwhile, let's begin the festivities How does that sound?" Joey's maternal asked her favorite nephew. Joey's whole body trembled in response.

"I guess it sounds pretty good," Bea observed. She ran her hands up Joey's yearning thigh and tantalized

his aching balls, which were already throbbing in desire. She took said orbs in her right hand, and gave them the same treatment as Captain Queeg gave his beloved steel balls in The Caine Mutiny. Needless to say, it was a new sensation for Joey, whose legally-compelled and maternally-enforced celibacy had prevented such encounters until this, the glorious day of his eighteenth birthday.

Eighteen years of longing were wrapped up in Joey's body, which trembled in anticipation.

She grabbed his biological metronome and took his balls into her mouth. She gummed them

and squeezed them in her lips, watching the beads of sweat emerging on his brow as he struggled not to come and disappoint his beloved aunt.

Bea flicked her tongue over his balls even as she continued to Queeg them with her right hand. She ran her left hand up his thigh and over his firm, muscular chest. She then knelt before him, and asked, "Master, may this lowly slave take the world's most famous schlong in her humble mouth?"

"Oh yes, please do that my favorite aunt,"

"I thought Aunt Jemima was your favorite aunt?"

"Fuck that. Right now you are my favorite aunt. Big time!"

"Copy that," Bea said. She ran her tongue up Joey's bazooka, slowly circling his hood with her flicking tongue. She ran her hand up and down his shaft, which was already lubricated with pre-cum. Let's hear it for the eighteen-year-olds, she thought. Talk about pent-up desire. She began to pump him, slowly at first but picking up speed. Joey gasped, struggling with desire.

"You may not come until I speak the release word. If you cannot last, then I will be forced to punish you. Severely. Do you understand?"

Joey nodded vigorously, and his pile driver grew another two inches in anticipation of a good flogging. He wondered what the punishment would be.

"What's the release word?"

"Geronimo," Bea told him. "Think you can remember that?"

Aunt Bea had always fancied herself to be a Native American, so much so that one American President had derisively called her "Pocahontas." Bea supposed that was better than POTUS's generic term for indigenous peoples, which was "Prairie Monkeys."

"I see that you like the idea of punishment," Bea said, looking at her nephew's engorged, throbbing phallus. "Maybe a little too much," she said, and raked her sharpened fingernails along Joey's now foot-long battering ram. Her razor-sharp claws had drawn thin streams of blood, and Joey closed his eyes to savor the pain. His organ swelled to thirteen inches.

"My, my, look at you," Aunt Bea said. "They really did cut back on your hyperestrogen dose, didn't they?"

"Yeah, they've got me very horny now, ready to explode." Joey told his hyper-libidinous maternal aunt.

"Let's not do the pyrotechnics prematurely, my nephew. You must discipline your mind using the mindfulness meditation techniques we taught you as well as the tantric yoga asanas you have learned at the Kundalini dojo and driving school They have all prepared you for this moment, just as Ralph Macchio's fence-painting in the Karate Kid implausibly prepared him to beat the shit out of opponents that outweighed him by sixty pounds of hard muscles and vastly superior training at the finest dojos.

Joey stilled his mind. Soon he was one with his new most favorite aunt, as her hand squeezed and unsqueezed his throbbing shaft, which had grown to very respectable diameter of four inches. Her thoughts were his thoughts, both of which amounted to a minimal consciousness dominated by pure lust.

"Oh, Joey, my Joey, so large, so beautiful ," Aunt Bea whispered, as she started pumping his yearning Louisville slugger with greater ferocity. Joey did not know how much longer he could last.

"Geronimo!" he said.

"Sweetie pie, 'Geronimo' is a release word, not a safe word. I say it to you to let you know you have permission to come."

"But what is the safe word?"

"If I told you that, it would spoil all the fun.

"My sweet nephew , I can't let you come just yet, or I will be forced to punish you. Do you want me to punish you at your own eighteenth birthday party?"

Joey kind of did, but he shook his head no. He knew that it was what his beloved maternal aunt wanted, deeply, desperately, and he knew he would give it to her soon, unconditionally and in sweet surrender. Suddenly, his cannon went all Vesuvius and involuntarily spurted, covering the ceiling with a half-inch gelatinous layer of jizz.

Joey felt an acute sense of shame. He had come, even though Aunt Bea had not yet said the release word ("Geronimo").

"Don't sweat it kid. It happens sometimes, especially at eighteenth birthday parties. Just remember your kundalini training and your tantric yoga exercises. You have been preparing or this moment all your life. Just listen to your body, not your mind. It's just like riding a bike with a deep, throbbing, soft, delicious hole that will never say no to you."

Joey closed his eyes and imagined his end state. His sperm on the ceiling began a danse macabre. They began to pulsate, then flew around the room seemingly randomly. But soon they organized into a unified cloud of gametes and spun around his urethra like bath water circling an open drain. The wayward sperm and jizz and a few ccs of urine then flew back into the happy vertical mouth of his dongadoodle and then back into his balls and assorted other secretory glands. His desire once again rose to a galactic crescendo. Mercifully, Bea resumed her literal handiwork, pumping his organ with an increasing ferocity. As Joey's frustration grew to an intolerable level once again, Bea mercifully whispered the word "Geronimo" into Joey's left ear. Joey's genital apparatus exploded like Mt. St. Helens on a particularly testy day.

The resulting jizz tsunami obeyed Newton's third law of motion and knocked both Bea and Joey to the floor.

"Aunt Bea?" Joey said, "I heard that some Buddhist monks have such control over their bodies that they can even take an object inserted in their ass, reverse the peristalsis of their digestive canal, and bring out of their mouths no worse for wear."

"Want to find out what that feels like, Joey?"

"No I think I'll past on that one."

"You sure?" Bea said. "As you probably know, the psychotic science fiction writer Phillip K. Dick wrote a novel called Counter-Clock World back in the heyday of pulp science fiction. .The premise of this novel is that time is reversed, so that dead people come back to life, but with a reversed metabolism, so that they became progressively younger and younger. They dined on shit (called 'sogum' in the book, so as not to offend delicate minds). They ate of course with their rectums, and then regurgitated pristine gourmet meals from their mouths. Finally, their minds devolved to an infantile state and they climbed up their main squeezes birth canals, implanted themselves in placentas, and become reabsorbed into the woman's body.

"Want to try that one out, Joey?"

"No, I think I'll pass on that one too, but thanks for the offer, Aunt Bea. Hey, what's up with all the construction equipment in your front yard?"

"Oh, that, it's just a survival bunker, you know, for the coming apocalypse."

"The apocalypse? What apocalypse?"

"Jesus, Joey what planet have you been on these past few years? Get all your news from the mainstream drive-by media, do you?"

"Yeah, I don't really follow politics much."

"So what exactly have you been doing with your time, my dear nephew?"

"Well, I've mostly been playing World of Warcraft on a full-time basis for the past seven years."

"I see." Bea said. She spoke into her phone: "Note to self: Get a copy of World of Warcraft for Joey's cell."

"Cell?" Joey asked.

"Yeah, your cell phone. Of course I didn't mean cell as in prison. That would be crazy. We are totally not thinking of that. No way. I deny it categorically."

"Yeah, no sweat, Auntie Bea," Joey said. "You know, I'd really like to see that survival bunker you're building."

"Would you now? OK, I don't see why not. They aren't working down there right now, this being the Sabbath and all. Usually they won't let you in if they're working. C'mon follow me."

She grabbed Joey by his outsized shaft, which was of course in the locked and upright condition due to his condition of perpetual priapism, despite the fact that he had recoated the ceiling with his massive eruption of jizz only a few moments ago.

She squeezed his shaft hard, almost as though she wanted to be reassured of its reality.

"It's there," Joey said. "You're not dreaming."

Bea rubbed the sensitive spot under the hood of Joey's flesh mushroom, already well-lubricated from the previous festivities, and led him to a bookcase. She grabbed a leather-bound copy of the Marquis de Sade's Justine and held it up to her eye. The bookcase then revolved in Young Frankenstein fashion. "Retinal scan," Bea told her charge by way of explanation.. She handed the book back to her nephew. "Put ze book back," she told Joey.

Joey did so, and the book shelves revolved through 180 degrees again, leaving Bea in the starting position. "Put ze book back," she told her nephew in her best Terri Garr voice.. Joey looked at the bookshelf. It was the same as the bookcase on the other side, right down the to the books it held, save for the missing space where deSade's classic had been shelved. "Put ze book back und run!" Bea said, with some irritation. Joey grabbed Aunt Bea's hand and pulled them free of the bookcase area and into an adjacent room, one wall of which was devoted to a bank of elevators.

Bea pressed the down button for the leftmost elevator with Joey's throbbing tool. "DNA test," she explained. "The computer is memorizing your DNA."

They rode the elevator to the third subbasement. They stepped out of the elevator, and Bea led him to a door marked "Charlotte's Web."

"Did this belong to Aunt Charlotte?" Joey asked. "Nobody has seen her in years."

"I'm afraid that your Aunt Charlotte went to a very dark place, Joey. Nobody speaks of her. You had best forget about your Aunt Charlotte. Pursuing her will only lead you into the very depths of hell itself."

"I ain't afraid of no depths," Joey told his maternal aunt, in typical eighteen-year-old and ghost buster braggadocio.

"Well you should be," Bea said.

As they turned into the arachnoid's lair, they were confronted by a set of floor-to-ceiling heavy-duty steel bars.

"Open sesame!" Bea said. The steel bars obligingly retracted into the floor and ceiling and they walked right through the space the bars had so abruptly vacated. "Close sesame!" Bea said, and a new set of steel closed behind them, even more deadly than Sharktopus's jaws and teeth in the Syfy channel's masterpiece.

"What's up with the steel bars?" Joey asked Bea.

.

"Titanium," his maternal aunt replied. "They're made out of titanium."

"OK. Let me rephrase my question. What's up with the titanium bars?"

"Well, Joey. As you know the Great Apocalypse is coming. It wouldn't be much of a survival bunker if every Tom, Dick and Harry could just waltz right in and take the supplies, although we could always use a few more Dicks, if you get my meaning." Bea cackled at that one and elbowed Joey.

She grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and urged him further into Charlotte's parlor. They rounded a corner and Joey was confronted by a vast array of gleaming torture and sadomasochistic devices. Joey was intimately familiar with each and every piece of equipment on display, having done a science fair project on precisely such devices, which was very well received by the audience, especially by the more lecherous fathers.

Arrayed before him was a comprehensive collection of such equipment. He counted among them three gleaming wheels, various forms of racks, four Judas cradles, two iron maidens, and well as other devices too numerous and so cruel that decorum and space limitations prohibit listing them here.

Joey felt his throbbing organ grow. They must have cut back on his hyperestrogen big time, Joey thought, probably in recognition of his eighteenth birthday. Bea was always a stickler for the rule of law, at least the laws relating to the ages of consent and maturity. The natural laws relating to general depravity, perversion, kidnapping, and imprisonment not so much. Joey's jaw dropped in amazement. Bea must have cleaned out the entire S&M R US warehouse. There were also widescreen plasma TVs mounted on each wall.

"I know! I know! who knew that there were so many implements of mass ejaculation?" Bea said.

Joey trotted over to a device consisting of a double wheel. He ran his hand over its gleaming steel (or maybe titanium).

"Oh, Auntie Bea, can we try this one? I've never seen anything like this," he said, sounding like a kid at Disneyland or at least a kid begging for a one-cent pony ride at a department store. He began climbing on the inner wheel.

"For starters, why don't we just KISS?" Bea suggested to her priapistic nephew in what would an avuncular voice, save, for the fact that Bea was an aunt rather than an uncle and was deprived of a corresponding adjective by the sexist thought police.

Joey puckered up in anticipation of the impending osculation.

"Don't you think that we have moved beyond spin the bottle at this point," Bea said. "I meant KISS in all caps. You know, 'Keep It Simple Stupid.' Let's just start with the queen-size bed.

"Are you sure you are up for this, Aunt Bea? I don't think they have been giving me my hyperestrogen this week. I'm pretty big right now. I don't want to rip you apart".

"No sweat, honey," Bea said. "See the stack of traffic cones up against the wall over there?" Joey nodded.

"I've been doing 50 squats on the tallest one every day to prepare myself" Bea told her special nephew. "I'm more than ready for all you've got."