Gotcha!

"Stand up," Samuel immediately ordered. He didn't want to give him even a moment to regain his faculties. "Arms at your sides. Good."

He took a long evaluating look at Wesley. He was wearing a black shirt with some disjointed nonsense written on the front, a pair of skinny jeans, and a pair of red Converse sneakers finished the ensemble. The similarities between him and his sister were undeniable: both were blonde-haired, pale-skinned, and short for their age. Nancy's hair was shorter and more elaborate, but they could've swapped hairstyles and no one would've given them a second look. The main difference was their build: Nancy was thin as a rail, whereas Wesley had some weight on his bones.

"Turn around, faggot boy. That's it. Now bend over."

Wesley's shoulders stiffened momentarily, but then he did what he was told. He bent over slowly, hesitatingly, not realizing that it only made the sight more appealing. Samuel's eyes widened appreciative. His bones weren't the only place Wesley had a bit of extra weight. Goddamn.

He took the opportunity to gauge Nancy's reaction to what must've come as an unexpected twist to her. Only now did he even realize how risky it'd been to keep her in the dark. She might've tried to put a stop to it, or to protect her little brother, or even just said the wrong thing at the wrong time. Things could've gotten very ugly, very fast. But instead she'd helped him, and now she was watching in silent fascination. She caught him looking and blushed, biting her lip.

Samuel grinned and stood up from his chair. He walked over to the bent-over boy and brazenly put his hand on his generous ass. Wesley squealed and made to straighten.

"Don't move, faggot!" Samuel barked. "You stay like that until I tell you otherwise, understood?"

"O-OK"

"'OK, sir'!"

"OK, sir."

"Good boy."

Samuel fondled the boy's ass. His jeans were pulled taut by his posture, and Samuel got a great feel. It was tight but cushy, almost feminine, and Samuel thoroughly enjoyed the hands-on examination. He finished it by tracing his fingers down from his tailbone, down his ass crack and perineum before flicking away just as he felt the bulge of his balls, small and tight in their sack. A sharp intake of breath was his reward and he smiled inwardly.

"You may stand up straight now."

The relief practically radiated from Wesley as he got out of the embarrassing pose, and a hint of hope played across his face. Maybe this was it?

Samuel dashed that hope right away. "Now take off your pants. Shoes too."

"B-but—"

Samuel crossed his arms. "I'm not going to ask again, faggot."

Wesley swallowed nervously, then began loosening the buttons on his pants, one by one, blushing furiously the entire time. After a deep breath he began pushing it down, entirely **** of how seductive his butt looked as he shimmied out of it. Only when his pants were already around his ankles did he realize that he needed to take off his shoes first, but after a minute or so of awkwardly hopping on one and then the other foot, the three items of clothing finally laid on the ground, off to one side.

Wesley's eyes were downcast, his hands in front of his crotch.

"Hands at your side, boy," Samuel told him sternly.

Hesitatingly, Wesley moved his hands away, balling them nervously at his sides.

He wore briefs, white ones. His bulge was modest and his legs bare save for some downy wisp.

Samuel stepped close. "Are you enjoying this?"