The B.I.Q.'s

by Darian Wolfe

Copyright© 2018 by Darian Wolfe

Sex Story: What happens when your dad dies when you're nine and your mother and sister hate you? They do everything up to and including, getting your dog shot just to hurt you. This goes on for seven long years. On your sixteenth birthday, you gain the power to make anyone obey you. What happens to the Bitches In Question? If triggered by incest or coercion DON"T read this story. Remember, this is fiction. Don't hurt people IRL. If you think you might, call 1-800-799-7233. Get help, please.

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa   Fa/Fa   Coercion   Magic   NonConsensual   Lesbian   Heterosexual   Fiction   Incest   Mother   Son   Brother   Sister   MaleDom   Humiliation   Oral Sex   Tit-Fucking   Big Breasts   Revenge   .

Author’s Note: Italics indicate the “command voice” is being used.

“Hi, Dale. Where’s your mom and sister?”

Sadness flashed across his face. “The B.I.Q.s couldn’t be bothered, Mrs. King.”


“Bitches in question, mom,” Tony said.

“I see,” She hugged Dale “I’m sorry to hear that. Well, Happy Birthday. Are you ready for some steaks? Don’s got the grill going. After that, we’ll hit the movies.”

Dale grinned.”Yes, Ma’am! I was wondering, after the movie could you drop me off at the library?


“Dale Metzger?”

The skinny teen looked up from his book. “Yes.”

“Sign here.”


“Look, kid, I have four more deliveries to make today. Just sign for the damned box.”

“Who’s it from?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Hey, you walked up to me in a public library. I want to know who it’s from before I sign anything.”

The courier sighed and twisted the box around. “It says “Kolan’s Magic Emporium”. Are you happy now?”

“Really? Cool.” Dale scrawled his name on the electronic clipboard. He opened the box to find another box with a letter from a law office taped to it.

Nov. 14th, 2017

Mr. Metzger,

As requested by our client, Winston Jeremiah, we held this package in a safe deposit box until the receipt of your order and the sum of one dollar ($1.00). Please find the enclosed box and the receipt of your payment.


Richard Farmer, Esq.

He hurried to pack his book bag and headed home. As he walked through the kitchen his sister Chrissy blurted “What’s the hurry, perv? Need to jack off again?”

His mother Joan laughed. “That reminds me. Dale, have you seen my black lace thong? I can’t find it anywhere. I found the bra, but the white stains were almost impossible to get off.”

Dale’s face burned as their laughter followed him down the hall, but he kept walking. He resisted slamming his bedroom door. Locking it, he pulled the box out of his book bag and unpacked it. Inside the inner box was an ornate wooden box with an envelope yellow with age taped to it. He set the box aside and opened the envelope.

April 17th, 1960

Dear Mr. Metzger,

May I call you Dale? I know it must be quite shocking to be reading a letter written to you forty-two years before you were born. In the world, there is little true magic left. You now own a piece of it. Why? It amuses me. A word of warning. The Amulet of Dragan does one thing and one thing only. It forces others to obey. It does not change their feelings or their thoughts. It does nothing to protect you from anything. People resent being forced to do anything and will seek revenge when possible. It is always better to make someone think a command is their idea.

Due to your youth, I’ve enclosed some commands that will ease your learning period. You’ll be tempted to be indiscriminate. I would advise against it. Avoid notice. It is better to be the power behind the throne than the man upon it. I know you will seek revenge against your family members as you should. Do remember that you have to live with yourself. It should be nothing too horrid and nothing permanent. The choice is yours. Kill them if it is your wish.

One last word of advice, once the amulet is active guard it with your life. Anyone who gains control of it gains control of you. If they destroy the amulet YOU will die as well. Be in good health.


Winston Jeremiah “Kolan the Great”

With trembling hands, Dale opened the box. There laying on a dark velvet surface was a small metallic medallion. It was deep crimson with black overtones in color. A thin black metal chain was attached to it. In the lid, was a set of instructions and the list of commands. He studied the instructions, then gathered the necessary tools.

Using his pocket knife, he pried open the back of the amulet. Dale jabbed a needle into his index finger. He touched the wound to each of the three tiny knobs inside the amulet. He shrieked as a blinding pain speared his brain when he snapped the amulet shut.

Dale opened his eyes as the sound of pounding filled his ears. “What the fuck is going on in there?”

“Nothing, I stubbed my toe.”

“Keep it quiet.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Dale stifled a rolling laugh that threatened to burst out of him. He felt the power of the amulet surging through his mind carving new pathways. “Happy fucking birthday to me!” He opened the list of commands and studied them. After a few minutes, he grabbed a notebook and pen. Mr. Jeremiah had included detailed instructions on how to create long term slaves that could not compromise themselves or their master.

The next evening, he was waiting in the kitchen when his mother Joan walked in. “Go get Chrissy and bring her in here.“ She spun on her heel and left the room returning a few minutes later with his sister. “Both of you sit at the table, be absolutely quiet. Pay total attention to me. Once they were seated, Dale opened his notebook and read to them. When he finished, he asked “Do you understand? Answer yes or no only.



“Good.” Dale sat back “You two have been making my life a living hell for almost as long as I can remember and that shit stops here. I want both of you to go change into t-shirts and gym shorts, no bras or panties. Then come back to the living room. Mom, I want you to wear that t-shirt that shows your cleavage. You’ve got five minutes. Go. Oh, you can talk now, but no yelling.

“Mom, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know, baby. After I change, I’m gonna kill the little bastard.”

Dale laughed.

Joan glared at him over her shoulder as she walked into her bedroom.

Dale was sitting in the recliner when they came in. “Chrissy, kneel on the floor in front of me.” He looked at his mother. “Go get dad’s gun.”

Mom came back with the .38.

“Make sure it’s loaded and the safety is off.”

“Now, point it at the ceiling and very slowly cock it.”

“Good.Chrissy, do not move or say a word.”

“Dale, what are you doing?”

“Mom, be quiet and point the gun at Chrissy’s temple. Do you want me to tell you to pull the trigger?


“Point the gun at my head.” Dale stared at her a moment. “Why don’t you pull the trigger?”

“I can’t.”

Dale smiled. “That’s right. Point the gun at the ceiling, un-cock it and set it on the table beside me. As you see, I own your ass. It is in your best interest to do what I ask unless you want to find yourself doing what I say. Lean over and put your hands on the armrests.”

Joan leaned over. Dale reached into her shirt and massaged one of her large tits.

“I’m your mother.”

Dale crushed her nipple between two fingers. “Don’t move.” He squeezed until tears came to her eyes. “Dad died when I was nine. From the day we put him in the ground you’ve never bought me one birthday or Christmas present. You gave her everything. You’ve done nothing but made my life a living hell and taught her to do the same. Reminding me that you’re my mother is not a good thing. Give me your best French kiss and I had better like it.”

Joan kissed him.

Dale’s heart raced, this was nothing like kissing Marcy Robbins. Mom was a bitch, but she was setting him on fire. He broke the kiss. Dale saw the self satisfied gleam in her eyes as she pulled away. “Very good. Kneel beside Chrissy.”

He shook his head to clear it. “Whew. You do pack a punch. We’ll be doing a lot of that. For now, take Chrissy’s shirt off. I want you to give her tits a nice tongue bath so she can give me a tit fuck.”


“We do have a German Shepherd, you know. Your tongue is going somewhere.”

“Damn you. Honey, lift your arms.”

“Oh, sorry. Chrissy, you may move and speak.” Dale said.

Dale almost bust a nut when Chrissy’s large breasts bounced into view. They were even firmer than he had imagined. Joan’s eyes burned with hatred as she slathered her tongue in the deep crevasse between them. He unbuttoned his jeans and fished his cock out and stroked it as he watched Joan fondle and lick her daughter.

“God that’s hot. Chrissy come over here and give me some head. I know you know how. I saw you blowing Frank last summer.”

“Frank?” Joan said.

“That’s right, mommy dearest. Your little darling was fucking your boyfriend. Why do you think he was always giving her shit?” Dale laughed. “It sucks wanting to slap the shit out of her and not being able to do it doesn’t it?” Joan glared at him.

He looked at his sister. “You’re not really going to make me tell you to get your ass over here again are you bitch?” Chrissy scrambled to get her mouth on his cock. Dale balled his fist in his sister’s blond hair and pushed down. “All the way. Like you did Frank’s. Aahh ... that’s it. Look at me. You really do have pretty eyes. I’ve never had head before so I don’t know if you’re any good, but I’ll know if I like it.” He held her head as he thrust in and out of her mouth a few times before motioning her to continue. “You’ve always accused me of being a pervert and jacking off to you and you’re right. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve jacked off fantasizing about having my dick in you and here we are.” He pulled her off his dick. “How’s it feel to be used by the little creep?”

Chrissy started crying.”I hate it and you.”


He looked at his mother. “I suggest you be quiet.”

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