He just said that he wanted to play a little game. Simon Says–I mean, how harmless does that sound? Well, it was fun at first–flexing when he flexed, jacking off as he jacked off…but then, well, I couldn’t stop. The smoking freaked me out, the cigars I had to buy when he went out, and we came home at the exact same time. I did my best to smoke them just like he did, and he taught me all about it. When I was bad–when I couldn’t copy him–that was the only time I was free…well, not really free. The only time I wasn’t copying him. Every punishment is different. Sometimes I just fuck myself with a dildo, or pump up my nipples and play with them until I cum. But I’ve gotten better, I haven’t been punished like that in weeks.

Now, we dress the same. We talk the same. We smoke the same. I…I think I’m even starting to think like him. To want what he wants, the same fetishes, the same turnons. The smoking, well, at first it was just a habit, but now…now it makes my dick as hard as a rock. Now, the dildo’s, fuck, I just want someone to fuck me so bad. 

He tells me that I’ve almost won, that the game is almost over. How much longer is he going to keep playing with me? Days? Weeks? Probably no more than a month. I’m…I’m almost ready, after all. Almost ready to be his son, yeah, his hot, sexy, cigar smoking son. Gonna be just like my daddy, I love my daddy so much…

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