India Lost The Cricket World Cup
What happens when India loses the World Cup finals? The agitated men in Khanna household take their frustrations out on the meek.
The excitement had been building up. India had won the semi-finals round and was set to play against Australia on Sunday. It was the perfect day at Khanna Mansion. Even Dad was going to join for the special day – and it’s not easy, given his busy schedule full of business meetings and cheap whores. I was excited to spend an entire Sunday with my father and 2 brothers, Karan (21) and Ryan (23) – a true male bonding experience!
Just to introduce myself, I am Vir, a 16 year old high school junior and excellent swimmer. Even though I’m the youngest of 3 brothers, and quite unfortunately, effeminate, I have never been bullied by them. I still obey them out of respect, and they appreciate it. They have their own thing going on – maybe because they’re closer in age, or maybe they’re both alpha males with huge bodies. They do not bully me, but they also usually keep their distance. I have learnt not to bother them over the years – especially when they vanish into their shared room and lock it.
Today, however, was the Cricket World Cup Final! This meant everyone would sit together and watch the match – except Mom of course. Our family still had very conservative values, and women were expected to be highly subservient and submissive. It was not uncommon to see our mother get punished by our father if she made a mistake. Even though it was usually nothing more than a hard slap across the face, we boys learnt that it was highly effective. Because mom instantly apologized and behaved. In any case, Mom was expected to make food all day and take care of us. She had to cancel all her plans with her friends, despite trying to convince my father to let her go. This is how our morning started.
“Please, I made these plans 2 months ago. I can’t cancel last minute!”
“I swear, if you argue with me again about this. Forget about those bitches! You have no concern for your family, do you?”
She cried and left the living room, as I watched with judgmental eyes. Why did she have to argue? She knew it was pointless. My brothers did not even turn their heads when they heard Mom get slapped twice.
My dad motioned me to get off the sofa, which I promptly did. He plopped down next to my 3 brothers, and I sat down on the floor next to Ryan’s legs. Everyone except me smelled freshly showered, and wore only boxers – I was still in my jogging gear, sweaty from my noon run.
Ryan kicked me off him. “Go shower, Vir,” he chuckled, “it stinks!”
I laughed and got up to strip out of my clothes. I did not mind getting down to my underwear in front of them. I did, and my dad looked at me seriously. I was confused.
“Give them here.” I handed him my dirty clothes without asking any follow up questions. He snatched them from my hand and threw them in our crying mother’s direction, who was just now walking in to the room again.
“Wash these and stop crying!”
He was being extra mean today.
After my shower, in order to imitate my brothers and dad, I also wore just boxers. The match had started already, and India was going to bat (as I was informed by Ryan’s incessant banging of the bathroom door). I did not know much about cricket but I was happy just to be a part of the men’s club. I was just about to step out when I heard groaning in the living room.
“WHAT? Who caught it?”
“Bhenchod, Shubman is gone.”
Some player got out. Pin drop silence. I was concerned.
I heard someone kick the table, and then I heard my mother howl in pain.
“Papa, are you okay?,” my brother asked Dad, who I can only assume kicked the table into mom, who was sitting there with them.
“WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE? It’s her bad luck that got him out,” Dad screamed out loud at mom.
By this time, I had rushed into the room, silently praying that this does not ruin the rest of the day. Dad was pulling Mom out of the room by her hair. I saw him throw her on their bed and warned her not to come out unless asked.
He was furious. As he walked back, he saw me standing there with my slim, hairless body. He growled at me, “What do you want?”. I just put my head down in respect and mumbled out a “Nothing.”
I joined the boys in front of the TV, back to my position, on the floor next to Ryan’s leg. The commentators did not seem positive about the recent developments in the match, and I continued my silent prayers. But little did I know, it would get much worse.
By the end of the first inning, it was clear that all 3 of them were getting increasingly frustrated. India was performing poorly. Although there were moments that made the men jump up, cheer, and beat their chests, most of the time was spent yelling at the screen. They ended up with just 240 runs.
My dad was getting calls back to back. He kept pacifying everyone. “Don’t worry, our money is safe.” “This is all India’s trick, that’s why they kept it at Modi Stadium.” “No, don’t worry, it’s just to keep us hooked. India will win.”
My brothers were getting quieter. No more roughhousing with each other while watching the match. Now they just sat next to each other, looking low and somehow… mellow? They were sharing a blanket which kept moving inconspicuously. I could tell they were upset, but also unbothered? Were they high or jerking off each other underneath? Either option would make sense, as they really needed some relief.
As the inning was coming to an end, I saw Dad yell out to mom to prepare the snacks. She came out in her nightgown and with her hair disheveled, clearly grumpy to be here serving us, rather than sipping cocktails with her girlfriends. We ate and the evening continued with a renewed sense of optimism.
But the second inning was just as bad. Mom was regularly sent back to her room after she was done serving, because my Dad thought her presence was bad luck. He also kept looking at me giving me dirty stares each time the Australian team hit a 4 or 6. I just hoped he didn’t think I also was bad luck.
With half an hour to go, and dinner finished, it was predicted that Australia had 97% probability of winning. Dad was too exhausted to notice that Mom had just settled down on a chair in the living room behind their sofa, curious to see what it was that made men crazy and full of testosterone.
Everyone knew the numbers were not in our favor; yet we were glued to the TV, praying something would change at the last minute. It did not. India lost.
All 3 boys got up when Australia scored the last run needed to win. They had been quiet for a while, so it woke me from my state of half-sleep.
My father clutched his fists angrily and growled out loud. I was shocked! He turned around, saw my mother, and again yelled out gibberish. He was so furious he stopped making sense.
Charging towards her, he did not give her time to defend herself. He bashed her in her face, and kept slapping her till her screams became unbearable. He threw her on the floor, and pounced on her.
He’d lifted her gown up enough to get access to Mom’s pussy, and managed to fish his hardening cock out of his boxers. It took him about a minute to get inside her; as he tried, Mom was resisting more than usual. Naturally, since this was not normal. Dad had never gone as far as attacking Mom sexually – not in our presence, ever.
But here we were, watching Dad rape Mom in the middle of the living room. I stood still for a minute, but something inside me stirred. I wanted this all to stop. This was only going to get uglier, I knew it inside my gut. My best option was to escape – my father was clearly occupied, and my brothers were still simmering with rage and shock over Dad’s behavior.
As I began to stand up, my Dad turned around. Instantly, he instructed my brothers, “Don’t let that little shit go!”
All their frustrations and anger suddenly had an outlet. All of a sudden, it was as if they went from stand-by mode to full action mode. Ryan tripped me down while standing, and I fell back on the floor. Karan had come around the other side and lifted me up by my hair so I got on my knees. They both lowered their boxers and out came very bushy, fully erect cocks. They had been hard all this while.
“Suck our cocks, faggot!”
“Those Australians fucked us so bad up our asses, so now you gotta know what that feels like!”
Mom’s screams had turned into intermittent howls. “Not there, not there, owwwwwWWHHHH,” she kept howling. Dad had probably moved to her asshole. My mouth was still full of their cocks. Not together, since both of them were full of rage, and couldn’t tolerate sharing me. I was shuttled between them – one got me for one or two minutes where he mercilessly fucked my face and throat, then the other one grabbed me back to his cock. I gagged and choked multiple times, but they did not seem to get even slightly satisfied.
Before they could move to my asshole, I saw Dad peeking at the action from behind. He patted my brothers on their butts, saying, “I’m done with her. Let me punish him now.”
“I’ll be the first to tear your asshole, right?,” he asked, bending to my level. I was in too much slobber and jaw pain to respond sensibly to him. I was a virgin, and he knew it. Anyone could guess it.
My brothers weren’t having any of it. Ryan was just grumpy, but Karan shoved Dad in his shoulder and said, “Not fair.”
Dad turned around and slapped Karan hard. Ryan suddenly jumped to attention, and looked up with a completely different expression. It looked as if he found Karan’s reaction inappropriate.
“Ryan, you can go have some fun with your mom. But this motherfucker Karan seems to have no patience, and so I’ll teach him some.” Dad grabbed Karan by his neck and threw him down on the ground next to me. Ryan almost literally ran to the corner where Mom was lying, traumatized. He went straight for her pussy, so I assume he was done with blowjobs for now. Mom could not even understand what was happening to her – even in her wildest dream she could not have imagined that her first born son would be raping her out of anger, in the presence of her husband.
Dad was trying to get Karan to open his mouth as he kept rubbing his wet cock on Karan’s face. He kept struggling, but also kept trying to apologize to Dad. For a brief moment, my Dad softened a bit, and pulled Karan up on his feet by pulling his ear. “Don’t repeat this shit with me,” he warned Karan. Then he motioned with his neck for Karan to go join Ryan.
Well, he was safe. But not me, the baby of the family. My father flipped me upside down trying to pull my boxers off as I tried to crawl away unsuccessfully. He slapped my ass hard for trying to escape. He kept spanking me till I settled down and promised not to move. He pushed three of his thick fingers into my mouth, taking me by surprise. He retrieved them, slick with saliva, and tried to force them inside my puckered hole.
“Fucking faggot of a son. You shave your asshole too?”
After a few seconds of making me cry and thrash around violently, he pulled his fingers out and began to force his even thicker cock up my ass. He was wet from previously fucking Mom, and I was slick from his fingering. It slid in easily, but as he slowly kept entering his full length inside me, I realized how the girth was tearing me up from inside. I felt like I was burning up inside – like someone was trying to saw me in half using a thick iron rod. I couldn’t cry anymore – I went silent as I felt completely numb and dead inside. He didn’t seem to mind, and kept pounding away.
In the background, I could blurry images of my brothers dragging away my mom to their shared room. I did not stay awake much longer and passed out on the floor as I was being raped.
I woke up in the morning, sticky with cum all over my body. I don’t know who came on me where or when. My ass was very sore, and my jaw was locked. I somehow managed to clean myself up in my room, which was just adjoining the living room. I couldn’t see anyone else around.
I got ready for school, but Mom hadn’t prepared me any breakfast. I was pissed off, but didn’t have time. I wanted to rush out because my bus was about to arrive. Still, before I left, I peeked around to see where everyone was.
My parents were sleeping their room. Mom was sprawled naked on the floor, clearly having been fucked like a cheap whore. Dad was snoring naked on their bed. I went to check my brothers’ room next. Ryan was forcing Karan’s head on his cock. It was 7am – weren’t they worn out by now? I rolled my eyes as I watched.
Ryan spotted me and yelled out, “Cocksucker!” He pushed Karan off his cock, and jumped off his bed to grab me. I ran out of the house before he could catch me. I knew he will try again once I returned from school – but that was a problem for later.
School was fine for the most part. Near the end of school, about 1pm, I walked past the Women’s Club Meeting. I craned my neck in to eavesdrop a little. They were whining about how cases of domestic violence always go up during cricket season in India. “Many men find it easiest to take out their frustrations on the people they care most about, like their wives or children. And the next day, they pretend as if nothing happened. Life continues as normal.”
I didn’t know it happened in other houses as well. I decided then and there not to resist my brothers or father from now on if they became abusive. What’s the point? It’s gonna happen anyway, whether I like it or not, and life will continue as normal.
I came back home, and unsurprisingly, I could hear Dad and Mom grunting in their room. As I waked towards my brothers’ room, I found Ryan forcefully fucking Karan’s ass. Karan was weeping profusely and Ryan leapt forward to grab my head, just to squish it between his muscular pecs and bicep. “Karan’s old meat. You’re next.”
#Abuse #Bisexual #Incest #Rape