The Telemachus Story Archive

BRO TAP
By Unruly Dogboy
Email: unrulydogboy@gmail.com



BRO TAP

By Unruly Dogboy

unrulydogboy@gmail.com

Hi, novice writer here.  Many of the authors on this site have been an inspiration.  This is a short story I wrote on the discord server Homotextual Gaming Guild – a server setup for players and developers of adult MM HTML games (invite: https://discord.gg/gjw7XbX8Y5 ).  Also, check out my game Demitransference at https://unrulydogboy.itch.io/demitransference


THE FAMILY BRO-BREWERY

The Jennings Family brewery was the oldest and most successful brewery in the state; their ales were wildly popular. Most people didn’t know that the family’s fortune did not come from their publically available beverages but from an extremely expensive private brew called Stud Sauce. For generations, the Jennings family drugged and kidnapped young, fit men with no attachments and turned them into human beer casks. The men were strapped in place as machines pumped malt into their stomachs. A combination of drugs and genital stimulation kept the studs placid and sexually productive.  These human beer taps produced a unique blend of ale, testosterone, urine, and cum that tasted like ambrosia to carefully screened wealthy customers. After 5 to 10 years as a cask, the process and drugs fried the men’s brains and spoiled the bodies, but they still made adequate, though mostly mindless, employees.

In recent years, the family had come to call this facility the Bro-Brewery.

A male Jennings ran the brewery since its founding over 300 years ago. It was a family tradition that the eldest son would inherit the brewery while the family’s younger men and women were responsible for “recruitment.” However, it was also a tradition to fight for control of the brewery, and more than one member of the family had found themselves strapped to the chair producing the special brew.

Last fall, a tragic car accident killed the family patriarch, and Lance Jennings III took over running the business. It was a smooth transition, their father was a savvy businessman, and the company practically ran itself. The only challenge Lance had was his younger brother Patrick. The past three potential “beer taps” Patrick had recruited were unsuitable. Sure, they were young, fit men with no family attachments; but they weren’t white. Lance, like his father, insisted that white beer casks produced the best tasking ale.

His father always said, “a quality product requires quality ingredients.” Lance had no intentions of changing their business model; Patrick was a liability, and Lance planned to eliminate him.

THE PLAN

The basics of the plan were straightforward; Patrick, twenty, fit, with a large cock, would make a perfect cask. Lance’s father had turned their Uncle Edward into a beer tap a few years after Lance had been born, so Lance saw this as continuing a family tradition.  Lance needed Patrick to consume the drugs they used on new stud taps. It only took one dose to alter a subject irreversibly.   However, distrusting, cautious, Patrick prepared his meals and never drank anything except sparkling water from sealed bottles.

Lance’s plan centered around Patrick’s 21st birthday. Every Jennings male had a big blowout celebration on their 21st; that would be when Patrick would be most vulnerable, and Lance would make his move.

Lance left the regular party planning to his two sisters and youngest brother Bo, while he focused on his plot to drug Patrick. He knew that Patrick would insist on Sparkling Pellegrino. Lance paid a hefty sum to a local bottler to spike several bottles of Pellegrino.

THE PARTY

Lance had to hand it to his sisters and Bo; the party was terrific, with great food, music, and even fireworks. Lance’s only complaint was that the catering staff were primarily black, Latino, and Asian men dressed in tight uniforms.

“Fuck, I never should have let Bo in on the planning.”

The only thing Lance hated more than minorities were fags. Lance had suspected his youngest brother Bo was gay, and how he shamelessly flirted with the waiters confirmed it. Bo was a skinny 18-year-old twink and would make a horrible bro-cask, but if he became problem, the brewery could always find work for another mindless drone.

AFTERPARTY

After the fireworks, Patrick retired to a private party room where several prostitutes kept him company. The girls drank champagne, but Patrick (as Lance predicted) drank his stupid sparkling water.  Within 30 minutes, Patrick passed out; the working girls were paid off and sent home. Lance set down his drink and knelt to talk to his brother.

“Patrick, you could have avoided this if you had just fallen in line.  Damn, I didn’t plan on you going unconscious.  I probably shouldn’t have used such a concentrated dose.”

Patrick moaned but was otherwise non-responsive.  Lance tried to lift Patrick and carry him to the special distillery but got light-headed and had trouble balancing Patrick on his shoulder.

“Shit, too much sun and alcohol today.”

The drugs were in Patrick’s system, and the process was irreversible, so Lance no longer needed to keep his actions secret from his family; he texted Bo for help.

Bo arrived with three waiters from the catering service. Bo seemed a little unsteady on his feet and leaned against a waiter for support.

“Christ, Bo, I need you sober. Well, good thinking bringing the help. No reason we should carry him, right? You two", Lance gestured toward the two largest men, "Pick him up and follow me. Patrick can sleep it off in the brewery. Right little bro?”

Bo didn’t respond. Lance thought Bo was behaving especially strange this evening.

The largest of the men tossed Patrick over his shoulder, and the three waiters led the way as Lance and Bo followed. When they got to the distillery, Lance saw two empty bro-beer cask hookups. The large black man lowered Patrick to the ground while the other man began removing Patrick’s clothing. Once Patrick was naked, the two men started the complicated process of hooking Patrick to the machine.

Something was wrong about what was happening, but Lance found it hard to focus; he felt warm.  He shifted uneasily, and adjusted his hardening penis.  Watching the two muscular men handle his naked brother was arousing.

“What the hell is wrong with me?" He thought, "I’m not a queer, and if I were, I certainly would not be turned on by black dudes, no matter how good-looking and well-built they are.  Fuck, why am I checking out their builds?”

The remaining man placed his hands on Patrick’s shoulders. Patrick let out a low moan.

“Mmmm.  What?  Why?  They aren’t … wrong hook up … wrong machines,”  Lance stammered.

The man massaging Lance’s shoulder turned him around.  Lance realized how handsome the multiracial waiter was and leaned forward to kiss him.

The waiter moved away and chuckled, “Take it easy, Romeo.  Those drugs really make you horny, don’t they?  You are correct, these aren't your machines.  We’ve made a few improvements to your outdated designs.”

He pulled off Lance’s shirt, while Lance half-heartedly protested.  The man twisted one of Lance’s nipples, his legs buckled, and Lance dropped to his knees.

“If you weren’t such a racist asshole, we might have been partners.”

The man unbuttoned his catering uniform, removed his top, and pushed Lance’s face against his crotch.  It had been a hot sunny day and the waiters had worked hard.  The man's natural musk, overpowered the last of Lance's resistance.

“I have to tell you, Lance, I am incredibly disappointed. I never dreamed it would be this easy. To be fair, Bo's help was instrumental to the plan; he is such a good little slut. Bo, help me prepare your brother.”

The man and Bo dragged Lance to the empty bro-tap hookup.

Lance muttered, “You drugged Bo?”

The man tousled Bo’s hair.

“Why would I drug my best boy?  Unlike you and Patrick, Bo recognizes the perks of assuming a corporate position under me.”  Lance looked at Bo who flash a wicked grin.

Bo jerked down Lance’s pants and underwear as the waiter got naked. The man squirted lube onto his fingers and pressed one into Lance’s ass. Lance noticed that the other two waiters were lubing Patrick’s ass.

“We have made several improvements to your methods. For example, you have been using testicular stimulation to promote cum production, but we find that the bros produce a larger, more richly flavored product through prostate massage.”

The man’s finger brushed against something in Lance’s ass, and Lance gasped.

“And your drugs were absolutely shameful. There is no reason to fry the brain. With our improvements, our bro-cask can produce a significant quantity of special ale with no long-term damage.”

The man added a second finger; Lance’s cock started leaking.

“You kept your men hooked up for years; we only need to tap them for a few weeks. Many of our bro-casks find the experience so enjoyable that they beg for additional time.”

The man removed his fingers and positioned the head of his cock against Lance’s asshole.

“However, you will not be receiving an enjoyable experience.”

With one forceful thrust, the man buried his cock in Lance’s ass, and Lance screamed.

“We used your drugs in your drink, the same you gave to your brother. You and your brother Patrick will live out the rest of your lives as bro-casks. You will be fucked by my employees every day until you are too old to produce a decent brew. Then you will work as drones in the brewery.”

Lance managed to speak.

“Family?”

The man laughed.

“Now you are concerned about your family?  You aren’t very popular with them; they were overjoyed when I told them, several weeks ago, I’d be taking over.  Maybe overjoyed is an understatement; your sisters are pregnant with my brother’s babies.  Your brother Bo has agreed to work as a fluffer for my employees; that is when he isn’t bouncing on my cock. With you out of the way, the last of your company assets will be under my control.”

Bo continued with the hook-up.

Lance struggled to speak again.

“Family. The family owns ...”

The man inserted tubes into Lance’s mouth.

“Your final words are for your family legacy, almost admirable, but you have bigger concerns.  If it makes you feel better, the brewery will remain in the family. Your father never knew that his brother, Edward, had a child. The legacy of the family continues through me, cousin.”

Liquid poured down Lance’s throat as his cousin’s large cock pounded his prostate.  Just before his awareness faded into a sexual haze, Lance shot his first load as a bro-tap.