Mom had been married for three years and her twin daughters were just over a year old when her husband got tired of her shit and split. She sought solace in a local tavern and was comforted by David, a “Little French Canadian Son-Of-A-Bitch”, and I was born nine months later. She named me David L. Brown, after my father and her father and her husband, but she usually called me Davey. She was still married when her estranged husband took a header off of the twelfth floor of the high rise that he’d been working on, so she got his life insurance and the house, her father-in-law vowed to support his grandchildren, and I was left to fend for myself. The house was none too clean and I liked to play in whatever mud puddle was available so by the time I was three or four Mom and my sisters started calling me by my initials. DLB. Dilby. Dirty Little Bastard.

There was no denying that I was a bastard and I was usually the smallest kid in the classroom but I was no dirtier than any other kid; it was my swarthy complexion that made my face always appear to be dirty, particularly in contrast to my Nordic, near-albino mother and sisters. Mom was over six feet tall and heavy; not fat, but big boned like her Viking ancestors, and her daughters were smaller versions of her. They all delighted in holding me down and wiping my face with whatever dirty washcloth they could find. It probably helped a little when I was smaller, but by the time I turned twelve and got into the seventh grade it didn’t work. The darkness on my upper lip was something that didn’t wash off. There was a lot of new hair elsewhere too, and although I was still small for my age some of my parts were a lot bigger than those of the other seventh graders.

Those parts were starting to work too, and I was still coming to grips with some of my newly discovered functions when Mom collared me one evening about the stains in my sheets. “You’re a pervert!” She admonished. “People like you should be locked up!”

Nowadays there’s the Internet and Sex Ed, and most every family group, no matter how dysfunctional, has a male figure of some sort with which to discuss such things, but none of those were available to me back then. I was the first of my peer group to enter puberty an as such I had to sort of wing it. I eventually overheard a couple of older boys joke about ‘beating their meats’ and ‘jacking off’ and surmised that I wasn’t the only kid so afflicted, but at the time all I could do was to be careful and hide any evidence of my activity from Mom and my sisters. My sisters were fourteen and in high school by then but were almost as repressed as I, and they listened with amusement as Mom berated me about an activity that was obviously exclusively male.

They cornered me in my room one afternoon. Mom didn’t allow locks on the bedroom doors, and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Nan and Jan were both a foot taller and outweighed me, and even though I hate to admit, they were tougher too and they could have easily broken the door down if they’d wanted. The Amazons were identical twins but I could tell them apart just by their attitudes: Jan was always the boss. “What you did to mess the sheets, Dilby?” She asked, “How much stuff comes out?”

“Uh, I dunno,” I stammered. I had never discussed this facet of my life with anyone, including my best friend, and I sure as hell wasn’t going there with my two worst enemies.

“Shayna says that it’s a lot,” Nan offered. Mom didn’t like Shayna. She smoked, wore a lot of makeup, and chased older boys. Nan looked at her sister for a moment and then said, “Let’s find out.” I didn’t make it halfway to the door before they had me, and a few minutes later I was pinned on my bed with my pants and underwear down around my ankles.

“I thought it would be bigger,” Nan said, motioning to my soft dick.

“It’ll get bigger,” Jan said, “Shayna said you have to sort of play with it first.” She then took my balls in her hand and squeezed them hard enough for me to holler before shifting her attention to my cock.

“Shayna says you sort of push it in and pull it out, back and forth,” Nan instructed, and despite my initial trepidation and my sister’s inept handling, my cock finally began to respond and within a minute I had deposited four days accumulation on my belly.

“See, I told you it’d get bigger,” Jan said, sticking the tip of her finger into the puddle on my belly. She stirred her finger around in the goop for a few seconds, held it to her nose and sniffed, and then stuck the finger in her mouth. “Yuk!” She said. “Shayna said it tasted good, like sweet cream.” Nan tried a sample and agreed with her sister, then they both left me to clean myself up. Maybe they’d have something to brag to Shayna about, but I sure as hell wouldn’t be telling anyone that my sisters had held me down and given me a hand job, much less slooped my goop.

They were back in my room a week later, again uninvited and unwelcome. “Take off your clothes, Dilby,” Jan commanded. “We need you to do something.”

“No!” The hand job they’d given me last week had been okay but there was still some guilt involved. Anything they wanted me to do with my clothes off was probably not going to be okay. I didn’t have anything against sex; after all, I spent a lot of time thinking about the subject. It was just that anything my sisters came up with would probably hurt or embarrass me. Like before, I didn’t have any choice in the matter. Nan simply grabbed me in a full nelson and held me upright while Jan stripped me. Jan then knelt before me and grabbed my scrotum and squeezed so hard that I cried out in pain.

“Quit acting like a baby!” she admonished. “Guys are supposed to like it when girls play with their thingies.” Shayna had obviously not told them everything about testicles. She then took my soft dick into her mouth.

“Shayna says you’re supposed to stoke it a few times with your hand first,” Nan instructed, as if reading from an instruction manual. “You aren’t supposed to touch their balls until you’re ready for them to shoot.”

“Shut up, Nan. I’ll do it may way, you can do it Shayna’s way when it’s your turn.” Jan’s way was just fine and a few second later I stopped struggling. The explosion was so intense that I was light in the head and weak in my knees and would have fallen to the floor if Nan hadn’t been holding me. I finally stumbled to the edge of the bed and flopped down, pardon the expression, blown away. I’ve heard that today’s kids treat a blow job like a goodnight kiss, and that kids as young as middle school go to Rainbow parties, where girls all wear different colors of lipstick and guys collect these colors their cocks, but I had never even considered that what had just been done to me was even possible.

“Okay, it’s your turn, I guess,” Jan finally slurred, swallowing my stuff and carefully wiping the excess from her chin.

The problem was that I was a twelve-year-old kid instead of a virile porn star, and despite what Shayna may have told Nan to do with her tongue I simply couldn’t rise to the occasion.

“What’s wrong Dilby? Are you a queer? Shayna says that some guys are.” Nan teased.

“Why don’t you try taking your dress off like Shayna always does?” Jan suggested. Nan quickly shed her dress and finally her bra, leaving only her panties. I had never seen a girl’s bare boobs and the effect on me was immediate. She alternated her affection between my cock and my balls, and I responded by grabbing the back of her head and pulling her closer.

Then the door opened and the girls both began screaming. “Dilby made us do it! He made us!”

I jumped to my feet just as Mom slapped me hard across the face. “You dirty little bastard!” Then she slapped me again and reached down and grabbed my scrotum and squeezed. Hard. “Hold his arms, Nan.” She was calmer now, and as soon as Nan had me pinioned she told Jan, “Go to the kitchen, Dear, and bring me a knife.” At some level I was no doubt terrified, but all I can remember feeling was the hardness in my cock and my sisters nipples boring into my back.

The girls were sent off to bedevil their grandfather and I became a ward of the state, bouncing around between foster homes. Mom made it two years in prison before suffering a fatal aneurysm.

I was still growing when gelded so my plates stayed open and I grew to be over six and a half feet tall. I couldn’t take sports in school, and free of the normal adolescent hormones and distractions I spent most of my time studying and graduated at the top of my class. I was awarded a full ride scholarship at Cal-Tech and majored in Computer Science. I worked for IBM for two years and then joined some other guys in a new start-up company. We went public the same day I turned thirty and I became a multi-millionaire and retired. No worries, no cares, no responsibilities, and no balls.