Category: Uncategorized

Marination

I wasn’t the same, after going there the first time. I don’t think anyone can be the same, in there. I had always had a kinky side before, but I had no problem with vanilla sex either–I just liked sex! I suppose it wasn’t a surprise that I’d end up at Pigtown eventually. I think…all of us will, at some point. After that night there, I was still the same person on the outside–the handsome daddy bear, nicely muscled, successful, high achiever, all of the good stuff…but inside. Inside I felt like an entirely different man, and I had no words I could use to articulate it. Nothing could get me off anymore. It’s not that I wasn’t horny, understand–it’s that nothing appealed. None of my usual porn did anything for me, none of my usual fuckbuddies. I was so frustrated, but I couldn’t explain it. I didn’t cum for days, and then weeks, no matter how much I tried, and while…I thought Pigtown might give me an answer, I was too terrified to ever go back there again.

After nearly a month of desperation, and self-reflection, I could finally articulate the problem. Everyone on the outside now fell within two groups. On one hand, there were the men I was now attracted to–young, innocent, preferably questioning or straight. Their…lack of experience thrilled me, made me want to ruin them, but none of them would tolerate anything extreme, if they would tolerate gay sex at all. In the other camp, were the freaks. The men who would willingly satisfy all of my perverse desires, but none of them, no matter who they were or what they looked like, were the least bit attractive. How could I possibly bridge that gap? How could I fall in love with a man in the first group, but force him into the second, so I could actually be satisfied? The answer, as happens sometimes, came to me in a dream.

There was an intern at my work, who I’d befriended, a young man by the name of Timothy. Sweet, twenty-two, straightish but without anyone significant. He liked me, I think, as a bit of a proxy father, and oh fuck, did I want him. I wanted to ruin him, but how could I? In my dream one night, I found myself in complete darkness, but not within a void. There were scents of smoke, piss and beer. The thump of bass from a dance floor somewhere nearby, and as I watched, a man emerged from the darkness. I couldn’t see his face, just his body. I could smell him, the musk and sweat and cum crusted on his skin. That cocky smile, the bulge in his rubber shorts, those fucking nips begging me to tear into them. I knew him. I didn’t need to see his face to know that, but he was…so perfect, and before I could ravage him, I woke up, sheets full of cum, screaming Timothy’s name at the ceiling.

The next night, I suggested the two of us go get a drink together, so we could discuss his career goals and further education. I told him that I knew the perfect bar for us. We arrived at Pigtown, and he knew what the place was as soon as we stepped inside, and he tried to leave…but I shoved him in, watching the freaks pull the clothes from his body, dragging him deeper into the club, and…and I left. I didn’t want to see what would happen to him, until it was finished. Let him marinate for a few days–maybe a week, and then he’d be ready for me. Perfectly corrupted…but I don’t think he’ll satisfy me for long, a night or two at most. I’ll have to make offerings at Pigtown’s altar regularly, I think, if I’m going to stay sane, but if that’s what it’s going to take, then that’s what I’ll do.

Daddy Whores (Part 5)

Rumor quickly spread through the house, and out to the barn, about the task set forth for the newest daddy of the boy’s harem, and every single one of them assumed it was a death sentence. It was true, a few of the oldest members of the stable had, on occasion, seen the boy allow a man to rise up from the cellar–but in every case, they were little more than a shell. No one even knew what happened down there–on occasion, the house would reverberate with screams rising up from below, chilling the daddies to the bone, freezing them all in place, until they could shake off their mutual terror and return to the task of tending to the boy. So it was with great surprise that the first daddies to rise in the morning went into the kitchen to prepare breakfast, only to find Carson, filthy and covered in grime, leaning up against the cupboards, staring off into the middle distance and unresponsive–but there all the same. He’d gone down, and he’d returned.

He screamed, when someone tried to touch him, looking around, unsure of where he was, of who he was. He could barely speak, and when several daddies tried to ask him what he’d seen down there, his tongue knotted up and refused to answer. Whether it was because he simply couldn’t bear to describe it, or because the boy’s magic literally sealed the truth up in his mind, no one could know. A daddy told the boy of Carson’s return, and he seemed mildly surprised, but not incredibly. Carson had shown, as a man, incredible resilience–and even as a daddy, some of that spirit remained. But the boy knew something else, that merely witnessing the cellar would be enough to…convince Carson to cooperate with him. After all, even this was better than the cellar. Nearly anything, was better than the cellar. He ordered Carson be fed, but not cleaned–he was never to be cleaned, unless explicitly told to do so, and when the boy was finished eating, he would speak with him.

Carson was brought in, shaking and exhausted, barely able to stand or even speak. He fell to his knees in front of the boy on his sofa-throne, and kissed his toe, shuddering in thanks and gratitude at being allowed the chance to return at all. He understood now. He understood more than he’d ever wanted to believe. He wouldn’t fight any longer–he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to, if he could. Something in him had died down there, something indescribable, but the boy held power here–no one else. All he could be was a daddy, and the only way for a daddy to experience anything close to happiness, was through complete devotion and obedience.

“Bring my poor daddy Carson whiskey and a cigar–he needs to satisfy his vices,” the boy said.

“T-Thank you my boy, you’re too kind.”

“I know. Now–as for your assignment. I’ve decided that if I’m going to…expand into the city, as I’ve been trying to do, I’m going to have to find ways to…deal with the police, which don’t require me to leave home–because I hate having to leave home, as you know.”

“Yes boy, I know…”

“So you, Carson, will have two tasks. During the day and afternoon, you will be tasked as a worker whore. You will go around the city and find filthy, disgusting workers–old, young, fat, muscled–it won’t matter, so long as they’re in their gear, and you will…convince them to allow you to service them, as cumdump, fuckhole, and urinal. You have no objection to that, I am sure.”

“No boy, this daddy loves…he loves serving as all of those…those things…” Carson said. He was crying–why was he crying? He shouldn’t be crying, he didn’t want the boy to see tears. The other daddy had brought whiskey–he grabbed the bottle and glugged half of it down, his gut burning, but it was enough to kill the emotion which had begun to overwhelm him.

“Good. As for your second task–you are going to be a drunk. As evening comes, you will settle into a bar, and drink, and drink, and drink. You will convince the bartenders to give you a bottle of whiskey each night, in exchange for a blowjob. When you have finished, you will become belligerent, and attempt to force yourself on the men of the bar, until you get arrested. Once arrested, you will spend the night in the drunk tank of the local precinct, and in there, not only will you service the other drunks–for free–but also any guard and cop who comes in ear shot. And these cops, you will ensure that if they see any daddies, other than you, arrested, they will make sure they are released promptly, and without charges–do you understand? After all, the only daddy they will want to have pleasure them, will be you, do you understand your tasks?”

“Yes boy, I do. Thank you.”

“You will return home Sunday Wednesday and Friday mornings, to make deposits, and so I may be updated on your progress. Now, you should get going, Carson. And remember that guard last night? You will be the daddy meeting him, and collecting his forty dollars for me, understand?”

Carson nodded. He was exhausted, but he didn’t dare ask his boy for permission to rest. He was lucky enough already to even be above ground. “I won’t disappoint you, my boy.”

“I certainly hope not, or you know what will happen, where you will go, and what you will be.”

Carson nodded, and struggled upright. He took the whiskey bottle and lit a cigar, before heading out to his truck and getting inside. The tears he’d held back finally gushed forth, and he sobbed, violently, for a moment or two, before composing himself so he could get at least get a mile down the road before continuing to sob, and as he wept…he couldn’t decide why, exactly he was crying. Party, it was because he loved his boy so very, very much, and was thrilled to be given the chance to serve him in this way. But there was also the terror, and there would always be the terror, of what he had seen. He finished the bottle of whiskey and an entire cigar, and then got back on the road. He had a job to do, after all, and a new family he wouldn’t dare disappoint.

March Suggestions – OPEN Until March 4th | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

wesleybracken:

It’s that time again! Are you supporting me on Patreon? If so, then you can offer suggestions for three or four flash fiction stories I’ll be writing this month, exclusively for you all. Come on in and participate! If you aren’t contributing and want to help out, then you can follow the link above. Everything from the one dollar level on up will allow you to offer suggestions of your own! You have until sometime on March 4th to get your suggestions in!

Just a reminder that you have another couple of days, if you’d like to make a suggestion! There have been quite a few so far, but I’d always like to see some more.

March Suggestions – OPEN Until March 4th | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Daddy Whores (Part 4)

He left then, and the two officers helped him up and out of the building–telling everyone Carson was being released from the drunk tank. Everyone still seemed to know Carson, though instead of pity, the officer’s eyes were now mostly disgust. Then he was out the front door and on the sidewalk–alone, confused, horny as all hell…but he had to get home. That’s what his boy had told him to do, and he couldn’t afford to get distracted. But was he going to get home? He…knew that he had a ride somewhere, right? He started shuffling off down the street, the memory dim, but there, until a few blocks later he found himself standing next to a rusted out, beat up pickup truck. This…this couldn’t be his car. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a ring with two keys on it–a car key and a house key–and sure enough, it fit in the door, but this…this wasn’t right.

He could see his reflection in the sodium light reflecting from the truck window, and that definitely wasn’t right. He hadn’t been able to look at himself before, after his boy had…done whatever he did to him at his desk, but his beard hadn’t reached all the way down to his gut, had it? And where…where in the hell had his uniform gone? He had on just a filthy undershirt and grubby, muddy jeans held up by a couple of old suspenders that had lost most of their elasticity. They made his jeans sag down–he reached around to scratch his crack, and with some embarrassment, discover a good amount of his fat, hairy ass was hanging out. He also had on a hi-viz vest and a grungy hard hat, like he’d just gotten off work at a day on a construction site–but he didn’t work for a construction company he…he worked for his boy, right? But hadn’t he just been in a police station? Hell, hadn’t he just been a police officer? His hands were shaking, and his head ached. What in the world was wrong with him? Why did he remember being something so…different? He got in the truck and immediately fumbled around in the glove box, finding one of his cigars and lighting up. He pulled out a hip flask next, full of cheap whiskey, and he slugged quite a bit back, feeling his mind settling back down into its comfortable haze of smoke and booze, right where it belonged. He got the truck started, listened to the engine rattle a moment, and then drove off, heading home.

Of course, he’d never been home before. Still, this body…it knew where he needed to go. He drove for quite a while smoking his cigar and taking occasional slugs of whiskey as he did, until he was well out of the city, even past the suburbs, and he turned into a driveway which led down a gravel road to what looked like a decrepit old farm. The house was still standing, and there were lights on–there was even dim light coming from the barn, and as hard he told himself to turn around and leave, he couldn’t. He was home, for better or worse. He added the truck to the mass of fifteen or twenty other cars and trucks parked in the muddy yard, got out, and went up to the building, using the house key to let himself in, where he was greeted by a couple other daddies fucking on the stairway. He even knew their names–Rob and Dirk. He avoided them, and went to go find his boy–he had a…punishment to receive, after all.

His boy was in the den, on his sofa, naked as always, three daddies tending to him–one was feeding him, one privileged one was sucking their boy’s cock, and a third was in the middle of their boy’s daily tongue bath, sucking on his foot. The boy…was even more beautiful than he remembered, and he nearly started crying at the thought that he’d disappointed him. He’d been such a bad daddy today, and he knew that this was not going to be a pleasant punishment.

“There you are, Carson. Took you long enough. As for your punishment–I haven’t had anyone down to clean up the cellar daddies for a few weeks. If you don’t wish to join them down there, I would suggest you lick them up quick. If you aren’t done by dawn, you won’t be able to climb back up the stairs. Let’s see if I found a new daddy with a nice work ethic. Now get out of my sight. If you’re done by tomorrow, then we can discuss…assignments.”

The cellar daddies? His confusion was only momentary–his mind started cobbling together memories from this new life. The cellar daddies–daddies went to the cellar when they were very, very bad. They often didn’t come out again, ever. No one even knew how many were down there, or what sort of state they were in. He didn’t want to be trapped in the cellar, no daddy wanted to be down there…but that was his punishment, and his booted feet trudged to the cellar door, opened it, and started down the stairs into the dark, listening to the quiet, desperate moans below, and praying he’d be able to finish his task and not be doomed to join them.

Daddy Whores (Part 3)

“Boy, boy please, I can’t…this isn’t who I’m supposed to be! This isn’t right, you can’t just do this to people,” Carson pleaded, as they walked down the row of cells. “Boy, I’m…I’m your daddy, and you should listen to what I’m telling you.” He was trying to be assertive, but no matter what, his old mouth could only sound mealy.

“No, you’re my daddy now,” the boy said, shooting him a glance with his eyes, “and that means, from now on, you’ll be doing what I say, and thinking what I want you to think, just like all of my daddies.”

The man Carson had arrested–his fellow daddy Emil, apparently–was in one of the last cells, and Carson could hear activity in there. He discovered that the door to the cell was wide open, and two of his fellow officers were inside, fucking Emil from both ends, the old pig moaning in between them. He saw his boy there, and his eyes went wide–he pushed the two officers away, and they stumbled back in a daze, and he got on his knees in front of his boy, then bowed to him, muttering and whimpering. “Please boy, please–he just resisted me, I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t come home! I’m sorry for calling you, for making you leave, I’m sorry, please, I…I made some more money for you!” he pulled a wad of cash from a pocket, “There’s so many young, strapping men in here, and they’ve all been paying me, all evening! Please…I don’t…I was doing so good…”

“It’s alright, Emil,” the boy said, allowing Emil to kiss his shoe, “I know it wasn’t your fault. We’ll be going home now–Jefferson’s waiting in the car for me, and you’ll have to drive home by yourself.”

Emil nodded, “Thank you, my boy, thank you…”

I’m sure none of you officers will have a problem letting my daddy go? You aren’t going to be pressing any charges, right?”

The two officers shook their heads no, still trying to figure out what had happened.

“Run along Emil.”

“But…but boy, they weren’t finished, and they didn’t pay me yet.”

“It’s alright–go home. You’ve had a long day.”

Emil got up and left the building, passing by Carson on the way, and when their eyes met, Emil’s seemed…haughty. “Oh…Oh I see what our boy did, such a clever boy!” he said, laughing, “I’ll see you at home!”

Carson felt his eyes drawn back to his boy, their eyes meeting once more. “You’ll be finishing these men for Emil, won’t you Carson? You do love having men abuse those old holes of yours, after all, just like all of my daddies.”

The twisting was there, but not as violent. It was…hardly much of a shift, really, but when Carson looked away and at his two fellow officers, their cocks hanging out of their pants, he started to salivate.

“And you two–do be rough with him. He’s been a very naughty daddy, and he needs a bit of rough treatment, don’t you Carson? You like it rough, don’t you?”

He should run, he needed to fight this, but before he could do anything, the two officers grabbed him, and shoved him up against the bars of the cell, handcuffing his wrists high, and tearing down his pants. One got behind him and rammed his cock into Carson’s ass, hard–making him groan–but it didn’t hurt nearly as badly as he wanted it to. No, he was…this body was already well broken in, after all, and he did like it rough and brutal. His voice was demanding the two officers rape him harder, really give it to him, beat him like the bad, naughty daddy he is. While the first fucked him, the other started biting and twisting at his nipples, calling him all sorts of filthy names, and after the first finished, they switched roles, all under the boy’s supervision and encouragement. As the second officer was getting close to finishing, however, the boy walked around, inside the cell so he was facing Carson through the bars, and their eyes met again. He could feel the world beginning to dissolve all over again, and he started to cry.

“Please…I’m sorry boy, please…”

“Don’t worry–as long as you keep me happy, you’ll be well taken care of, daddy.”

The words didn’t seem to come from the boy’s mouth, but from everywhere around him. He lost track of everything–he couldn’t even really feel much of the cock still lodged in his hole. This time, he could feel reality growing even further away from what he’d been before, more and more of himself lost to the strange void of the boy’s eyes, and when everything stopped, he just collapsed, hanging by the handcuffs, sobbing for the loss of something he couldn’t even really remember all that well–after all, Carson’s memory was shot from all the liquor he drank, right?

“Thanks officers, that’s just what my daddy needed,” the boy said. That’ll be twenty dollars from you both, of course–can’t have daddies getting fucked for free, right?”

The two officers exchanged confused glances, and then pulled out their wallets. One handed him a twenty, while the other just stared at the empty wallet. “I…I don’t have a twenty, I’m sorry.”

“Then here’s what we’ll do, officer. Go to an ATM tonight, and pull out at least forty dollars. A daddy will come by tomorrow to give you a blowjob in the restroom–and will be coming by every day from now on. You’ll be paying him forty dollars–for this fuck and tomorrow’s–and always have at least twenty dollars in cash on you from now on, understand? Now, I need to get going. Please release my daddy, if you would.”

The officers did so, and Carson slumped to the floor–confused, horny, desperate for a beer and a smoke–and his boy got down beside him. “You’ll come straight home, understand?”

“Yes boy.”

“Good. I’ll see you soon. We’ll discuss your punishment there, understand?”

“Yeah boy. I understand.”

“You won’t forget? I know you’re a stupid fucking faggot.”

“I won’ boy, I promise. I’ll hold on real good, cause ya told me to.”

“You’d fucking better.”

March Suggestions – OPEN Until March 4th | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

It’s that time again! Are you supporting me on Patreon? If so, then you can offer suggestions for three or four flash fiction stories I’ll be writing this month, exclusively for you all. Come on in and participate! If you aren’t contributing and want to help out, then you can follow the link above. Everything from the one dollar level on up will allow you to offer suggestions of your own! You have until sometime on March 4th to get your suggestions in!

March Suggestions – OPEN Until March 4th | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Daddy Whores (Part 2)

“Hello Officer Carson, I believe you arrested one of my daddies today.”

Carson looked up, and say the young man across his desk, staring at him. His eyes were chilling, somehow, and he quickly looked away, and back at the report he’d been writing. “You mean the faggot I caught blowing a guy behind a cafe? Who are you, his son?”

“Oh no–I’m his boy.”

Carson remembered the older man mentioning a boy before, when he demanded payment. “Well, whoever you are, we’re holding him at least overnight. You can bail him out tomorrow.”

“Oh no, I won’t be bailing him out, you’re going to take me to wherever he’s being held, release him, and let us go on our way.”

There was a force to the young man’s words, similar to the old man’s had had earlier. But before, when the man had spoken, he’d found his body compelled to act–this merely felt like a…strong suggestion. But whether it had something to do with him breaking free of the man’s control earlier, or simply because the boy hadn’t been as forceful as he could be, it wasn’t clear. One thing was certain–there was power there, and a latent threat, but while Carson might not understand how the boy’s power worked, he also didn’t think there was anything the boy could really do to him. “No–No, I won’t be doing that. Now why don’t you leave, and you can collect your perverted father tomorrow.”

“I never said he was my father–I said he was my daddy,” the boy said, perturbed, “and you would do well to do as I say. I can be rather…petulant, I’ve been told. There are worse things I could make you do, then get a nice blow job from one of my daddies.”

“I don’t know what sort of shit you have going on, or how any of that happened earlier,” Carson said, leaning close, “But that won’t ever be happening again. Now leave.” He met the boy’s eyes again, and this time, didn’t look away, no matter how icy they seemed. But a second later, when he couldn’t break the contact…he was no longer sure if he’d been the one to choose to meet his eyes or not, and a knot of fear started growing in his gut.

“You should have been afraid of me a minute ago, when I was willing to be a little patient. Besides, if you’re going to make me leave my home, and make one of my daddies drive me all the way into the city, just because you can’t enjoy yourself, well, then I can at least get something out of it, right?”

This wasn’t right–he wasn’t right. The eyes were no longer simply intense, they were boring into Carson’s mind. His vision was losing focus, and beginning to spin around the axis of the boy’s eyes, and soon, they were the only stable thing in a sea of color, even his body ceased to exist, and what remained of Carson, the boy…was putting a cramped little box, a partition of a mind, and the rest of him…the boy was making something else–someone else. The spinning began to slow down, and the world began to return, but it wasn’t the world Carson remembered–not quite. At last, he was able to yank his eyes away with a shuddering sob, and look down at himself–and if Carson had been able to, he would have screamed.

This wasn’t his body. These weren’t his clothes. He was still in a police uniform, but instead of being cleaned and starched, it was wrinkled and heavily stained, smelling like it hadn’t been washed in a week or more. He had a gut which stretched the shirt out enough that gaps were appearing between the buttons, displaying slivers of a filthy undershirt below, and his arms and chest had lost almost all of their definition, leaving him looking weak. He felt his age, more than his saw it–the aches, the dim, blurry vision, the difficulty hearing–but he did see the beard–the thick grey beard hanging down to his gut. He tried to figure out what had happened to him, tried to remember who he’d been, but that was when he discovered that not only was this not his body, it also wasn’t his mind.

Officer Carson was sixty years old, and would have retired had he not lost his retirement due to…poor life choices at a casino not far out of town. He was on desk duty all day long, and spent most of the day eating, and…and fantasizing about his fellow officers, thinking about pleasing them, about how good it would feel to have his ass or mouth stuffed full of their big cocks. Yeah, he was a slutty, fat, officer daddy, and…and he looked at the boy–no, he looked at his boy, and all he felt was love, and desire, and also complete and utter terror. He’d disobeyed his boy, a direct order from his boy–what in the world had he been thinking?

“Don’t get too comfortable, daddy. After all, we still need to go get Daddy Emil out of holding, right?”

“Yes boy, I’m…I’m sorry boy, right away…” Carson said, his voice raspy and quiet. He hauled himself up out of his chair, feeling how much he ached, and led the way away from his desk, towards the holding cells. He was nervous, each time he encountered a fellow officer, but while they all regarded him with utter disdain (which he rightfully deserved, of course) they did all recognize him. His old self–that officer no longer even existed. The only knowledge and evidence of his was locked away in a small corner of his mind, which was growing more and more distant by the minute. They were alone in the elevator a moment later, heading down, when he turned to his boy, “Am…Are you going to change me back? Please–I didn’t know…”

The boy just laughed. He was still laughing when the elevator stopped, and Carson’s heart sank even lower than he’d imagined it could, as they headed for the cells.

Daddy Whores (Part 1)

Officer Carson was at his desk, finishing his report of the arrest he’d made earlier that afternoon, back behind the cafe where he usually gets lunch in the early afternoon. The report he was writing, detailed how he’d seen an older man strike up a conversation with a stranger at a table in the cafe, and the two of them had exited together and went around behind the building. Thinking it could be a drug deal, he went around the building after them, only to happen upon something…very different. There was definitely money exchanged, but not for drugs–behind the dumpster of the building, the older man was on his knees, sucking the younger man’s cock. Officer Carson told them to stop, the younger john booked it, and he arrested the older man and brought him in.

That’s what he was writing, at least, but that’s not quite what happened earlier that afternoon.

Some of it was true, of course. He had been at the cafe. He had witnessed money changing hands, and someone’s cock had gotten sucked. But the young man in his report–that had been him, and the very straight Officer Carson was still trying to fathom how, exactly, the old faggot had managed it. That is…how he’d gotten this young, strapping officer, back behind that cafe, willingly allowing that…disgusting old man to suck his cock.

Carson was a star of the police department. He’d only been on the force for a couple of years, but there was already chatter of him getting promoted to detective. He had proposed to his girlfriend a few months back, and they were planning their wedding this summer. He’d seen the man staring at him, through the cafe window for a minute or two. He looked to me in his seventies, at least, with almost no hair on his head, hunched over, his body almost lumpy with fat. He’d pegged him for a fag immediately–no normal man would just stand and stare at another dude like that, but he’d planned on just ignoring him, like usual. What he hadn’t expected, was the man to enter the cafe, bold as brass, waddle right over to Carson’s table and lean on the side, his face inches from Carson’s, who had his mouthful of sandwich. “Hello stud–I bet you’d like having that big cock sucked by daddy, wouldn’t you?”

Carson was too surprised to speak, and as he struggled to swallow, the old man’s hand found its way into his lap, to the bulge which was well outlined in the uniform pants Carson wore rather tight, and he couldn’t help but moan through half-chewed bite. In less than a minute later, he’d followed the old faggot out and around behind the building, dropped his pants, and the old fuck had started slobbering all over his cock. The entire time, Carson tried to deny it was happening, told himself that he needed to stop this, that he didn’t want this. But…but he did. He enjoyed the faggot’s mouth–it was a better blowjob than he’d ever had in his life, and he came after a couple of minutes, the fag swallowing it all down hungrily.

“Thank you for feeding this daddy,” he said, and stumbled up, “But there is matter of payment. Twenty dollars for this pig daddy’s services, please–this daddy has to keep his boy fed, sir.”

Carson wanted to refuse, but as in the rest of the encounter, he found his body acting on its own. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, handed the old man a twenty dollar bill, which he quickly stuffed in a pocket.

“Thank you sir! I’ve seen you eating lunch here often, and I’ll be sucking your delicious cock regularly, yes I will!” The fat man hauled himself back up to his feet, and Carson’s disgust welled back up at the sight of him. He was so fucking vile, and he’d just let that…toothless mouth suck his cock. He was shaking with fear and rage as the fat man walked back around to the front of the building, a bit of a skip in his waddle, and Carson couldn’t move–but he fought past whatever block this was, forced himself to grab the old man and shove him up against the wall, arresting him for prostitution. The whole time, the man was whining, saying he couldn’t be arrested that if he didn’t get home to his boy that evening he’d be in such trouble. Carson didn’t listen to a word he had to say, however, and it was clear that the old man was…shocked, and frustrated, that Carson was no longer obeying him. In the end, the old man would probably be held overnight, and then released–Carson, after all, didn’t want the matter investigated too deeply, unless his own…actual involvement be discovered. But a night in jail might be enough to discourage the faggot from approaching him again.

He was nearly done with the report, and most of the other officers had gone home for the evening, and he was planning on following them out the door soon. But before he could, a young man, he couldn’t have been much more than twenty, looked into the room, a bit timidly. He was chubby, with disheveled hair, and quite pale skin, like he hadn’t seen the sun in quite a while, and his clothes fit quite poorly. One of the other officers asked him if he was lost, and the young man, in a small voice, politely asked the man to show him where he could find Officer Carson. The officer was more than happy to help such a helpless boy, and pointed him to Carson’s desk, and continued on his way. The boy’s eyes hardened at the sight of the man who had caused him and one of his daddies such trouble–but he knew how to deal with men like that, oh yes he did, and this Officer Carson would learn his place soon enough.