Cleaning House (Part 7)

CW: Scat


It’s…hard to talk about, honestly.

I mean, I don’t remember it that well, either. I showed up in Daddy’s clothes, reeking, almost 200 pounds heavier than she remembered me…

I drank a lot, that night, and smoked a lot too. Still, I tried to help, after I cleaned myself up and took a shower. Being clean…I felt so naked, and so worthless. Amy didn’t…want me there, and there was nothing I could really do to make anything better. I was just…something else to manage. She did everything without me, and I just sat there in a stupor, drunk, and she cared so much. The only…

The only family I could care about anymore was Daddy. I missed him so much, more than I missed my mom. I needed him to know what to do, I couldn’t…I don’t know how to be alone anymore, I don’t know how to live for myself, if I ever really did.

Amy, I still feel awful. She even ordered me a suit, knowing I wouldn’t even think to buy one. It chafed, I was so hot and sweaty in that tiny church, listening to everyone drone on about my mother. I jacked off, I was so bored, I jacked off into my filthy underwear at my mom’s funeral, got drunk after, jacked off some more and hit on a few older guys who reminded my of Daddy–none of them took me up on the offer.I didn’t even stick around to the next day–I junked the suit, got back in my real clothes, and drove off.

I got back to Daddy and I sobbed. I was so sorry for leaving him, I was so upset, and he was there for me, he…he understands me, and he knows me like no one else I’ve ever known. He knows what I need better than I do. He held me for an hour in bed, telling me that I was safe, that I would never have to leave again, that he’d never make me leave, that he’d never let me leave. That I belonged with him, that there was nowhere else that I could ever belong anymore, other than here. He fed me a big dinner, I drank a huge load of piss he’d been saving for me all day, I cleaned his nasty crack…and by the next morning, I could almost pretend that none of it had ever happened. But it had, and I don’t…it changed me.

I saw how worthless I am. How stupid I am. I couldn’t understand what Daddy saw in me, I couldn’t understand why he loved me, unless it was pity. I thought about leaving, I couldn’t bear the thought of subjecting someone to me, but I was too scared. I acted out, I pushed back, I made him spank me, and I liked it, and he liked it, and he got rougher, and meaner, and I begged him for more. I didn’t deserve to be his boy, I said. I’m too much of a fuck up, I’m a waste.

He made me eat his ash one day, right out of the tray. I licked it up–it was so…dry, but some of his piss helped wash it down. He fed me his cigar butts, and some of his trash. I…I begged him for his shit. I wanted to be his toilet. I wanted to prove to him, and to myself, that it wasn’t a lie, that I was as low as that, that I was a toilet. He refused, and so I filled the back of my briefs with a load of my own, dropped them to the ground, got down and started eating my own shit, right there in the kitchen. I’d…practiced already. I knew I liked it, and when I saw how hard he was in his briefs, I wondered why he’d refused. He fucked my shitty hole, made me clean off his cock, and then I was under his rim chair, eating his shit straight from the source, and it only…I only got hungrier, after that.

It was summer again, already. Most of my days were spent outside doing work around the cabin, naked aside from a pair of Daddy’s old boots, my shit, piss and cum stained briefs or jockstraps, and a pair of work gloves. I lost a bit of fat and bulked up again, but when you crest 400, there’s only so much that muscle can do to make you not look like a tub of lard. In the mirror I barely recognized myself anymore. I looked so much like him now, it disturbed me. Still, he’s happy–that’s what matters, right? That’s why I came here, that’s why I agreed to be his cleaner. It seems so far away now, but it’s only been a year and a few months. I feel like I’ve known him for years, and that he’s known me my whole life. I have no secrets from him, I can’t lie to him, I can’t lie at all, really. My sister called, worried about me, and I told her everything, or as much as I could before she hung up, and she hasn’t called again since.

Fall is here again, and everything is dying. I feel like I’m dying too, day my day, curling up into myself, into this cabin, into Daddy. I’ve…been pissing the bed, most nights, and Daddy started forcing me to wear diapers at night, for protection. I feel so small in them, and he looms over me, grinning down, humping the front of my diapers with his cock until I cum, gasping, and then he shoves his cock down my throat, and when he cums, I keep sucking, hungry for more–more food, more piss, more cock, more ass. I want him to fill me up, because all I ever feel, when I’m alone, is empty. I shouldn’t be here. I should run, but I won’t. I can’t. Even…going to town now, fills me with such anxiety, I can’t go without him anymore. We’re supposed to have the first snow tonight, and everything will be white again. Maybe it can cover me up, until I disappear too.

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