The King’s Ring (2 of 2) – 

Reminder: after this weekend, all of my original content will be moving over to my main blog, @wesleybracken. Make sure you’re following me there if you don’t want to miss any posts!

He held the ring out to me, where I was kneeling. I could…sense that he wanted me to kiss it, and as soon as my lips made contact…it was like something was being sucked right out of me. My youth? My will? My identity? It…had to have only lasted a few moments, but it felt like ages, with my mouth to that cold metal, until it finally released me. “Now–another meal, slave. And then my bath.”

“Yes sir,” I said, automatically. I was still…inside my head, but I no longer had any control over myself. I stood up, feeling my knees ache slightly, and I went back to the kitchen. I was desperately trying to stop myself, to regain control, but I couldn’t. I had to obey. I was just…just a slave. An old slave faggot. I eventually saw my reflection in a mirror hanging on the wall, and I would have screamed, if I could have. I…really was old, now. I must have been close to fifty. I had a silver goatee, a paunch, a thick leather collar around my neck, and shackles on my arms and legs…and my cock was locked in a chastity device. Still, I cooked feverishly, and delivered a five course meal I hadn’t even known how to cook, and he…ate all of it, all by himself, while I serviced him, and cleaned him, being sure to get between his piss soaked thighs.

When he’d finished, he again spoke. “I could do away with you entirely, you know. But he likes you, for reasons I cannot begin to fathom, and he’s much easier to control with you here. I will give you control again, but defy me one more time, and you’ll be gone. Understand, slave?”

I nodded, and I felt the other persona fade back, but my body hasn’t returned. I should be thankful, I suppose. Others who I’ve…brought here to serve our king haven’t been so lucky. I know he’s still in there, somewhere. If I could just get the ring off that finger…but the fat has grown around it. I’m afraid…it won’t be coming off until he’s dead, and who knows when that will be. The king has not let me service him since my…outburst, but he forces me to watch as the cubs pleasure him–young, mindless things who crawl over him, riding his cock and sucking his nipples, and…and fuck, if I don’t love watching it, and he knows it. He’s fucked my mind to bits–none of us do, and neither will you. I have no life other that servicing him, and finding more subjects for his kingdom. Now kiss your liege’s ring, like a good pig. We need another toilet, unfortunately, but you can be thankful–toilets don’t get minds, so you’ll be gone soon enough. Just a kiss, and everything will be over–I promise.

The Power of Society (Part 3)

The jocks of Alpha Phi Delta were oblivious to what had just occurred at Sigma Mu Tau right next door to them, but they were as confused as those young men had been, when Harold entered and told them all to gather in the living room for a house meeting. The house here was in considerably messier shape than next door had been. Piled by the door were sneakers and cleats of all kinds. Personal items, dirty bowls and plates, and even some clothes littered the room as the jocks filed in and sat down on the couches and floor around the fireplace, where the older gentleman was standing, checking his watch, and looking around at the men gathering. While the men next door had all been in rather good shape, Alpha Phi Delta was known to attract the star athletes on campus. It had always been a bit of a joke on campus that the two fraternities were right next door to one another, but the two houses had always embraced that, and turned it into a rivalry–brains against brawn, as they called it. But Harold had other plans in mind for the two houses this year. He hoped to bring the two groups closer than they’d ever been before.

“Hello everyone,” Harold said, “I just wanted to take a moment out of your busy first week to introduce myself. I’m professor Harold Larson, from the psychology department, and the dean of students has been kind enough to allow me to use your fraternity as a subject in a little experiment I’m conducting.”

No one said much of anything here, but Harold hadn’t anticipated much pushback, like at the other house–or at least, not yet. Looking around the room, the men all seemed rather bored and uninterested in this–but that would change soon enough. Harold had a small bag with him, and at this, he set it down on the table and began pulling some things from it. “Now, for this experiment, I’m going to need you all to help me out, by wearing a new house uniform, which I will explain now.

“Wait, uniform?” someone asked.

“Yes–I will need each of you to wear one of these jockstraps 24/7 until I tell you otherwise. I assumed you wouldn’t object, given that you all are likely rather accustomed to wearing them anyway.”

“A jockstrap? All the time? What for?”

“I’m afraid that until you put on the uniforms, I am unable to explain their purpose fully. It’s part of the study.”

“What if we don’t want to?”

“I was told by the dean that all of you would be very excited to participate in this. You all find this very intriguing, and are more than happy to comply. Now, if you would all please strip off your clothes, we can begin putting all of you into your new uniforms.”

No one in the room found anything to object to it that, so the entire room stood up and began to strip off their clothes. That was rather easy, since they were all fairly accustomed to seeing each other naked in the locker rooms, but Harold couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of so many well formed young men, naked in a room with him. What fun he was going to have with them all.

“Now, I’ll ask you all to form a line. I will give you a jockstrap, and then we will secure it, to ensure it remains in place for the remainder of the experiment.”

The jocks lined up, and Harold handed the first one a jockstrap. The young man put it on, and then Harold took a metal cable tie from inside the bag. With one hand, he got a firm grip around the young man’s cock and balls through the pouch and the jock, tugging them away from his body, and then secured the metal tie around the base, tighter than a cock ring, but not quite tight enough to interfere with circulation entirely. The result was the jock’s cock and balls locked inside the pouch of the jock, with the metal tie on the outside. Harold lastly trimmed the loose end of the tie with shears, applied a quick drying super glue to the locking mechanism of the tie, and sent the jock back into the room. Seeing what was going on, the men in the cue grew a bit wary and confused, but a few words of comfort from the professor were enough to settle them down. Fifteen minutes later, the jocks were all secure in their new uniforms, sitting around the room, each of them touching and examining the pouch where their cocks and balls were locked in. The ties were snug enough to act as a cock ring, and several of the men were sporting erections, though they found them rather…uncomfortable, when confined inside the relatively small space of the jock pouch.

“There, I must say that the new uniforms look excellent on you, and I’m sure you all agree, right? None of you feel any desire to try and tamper with and remove your uniforms, correct?”

The men murmured agreement and nodded, but the reluctance was palpable.

“Very good. Now, There are also two house rules which all of you will need to abide by, through the course of this study. I’ll go over the rules, and then take any questions you all might have. First, when in this house, the only clothing you are allowed to wear is your new uniform. If you need to leave the house, you will dress only right before leaving the house, and as soon as you arrive back, you will strip naked once again. Second, your new uniforms must not be washed. Because they cannot be removed, that means you all will have to forego showers for the duration of the study. Now–any questions?” the professor saw several hands rise, nervously, and he smiled, pointing to one young man in the front.

“Um…how are we supposed to piss in these things?”

I’m still taking votes for Part 5 of Dale’s Story. Help me decide what to do to his asshole brother!

FatOldHog: There, I fucking did it, are you happy?

DaddyLoveXXX: You’re not done yet Hog, you still have to eat it. That was the deal, remember?

DaddyLoveXXX: Yeah, that’s a good hog, slurp all that old cum of yours down. Go on Hog, tell me how it tasted–did you enjoy eating your own seed?


It was fucking disgusting. 

DaddyLoveXXX: Oh really? I thought an old pig like you would enjoy a treat like that.”


Look, I did everything you said I had to do, alright? Please just change me back.

DaddyLoveXXX: No, if you remember, I told you I’d be willing to change you back after we’d both had our fun, isn’t that right? Well I still haven’t gotten off, you old hog, so if you really want me to change you back, you’re going to have to help me out.


No, this is fucking over!

DaddyLoveXXX: Now now, be careful! You wouldn’t want me changing that username of yours again, would you? Now play with those fat grandpa titties for me, show me how much you like showing yourself off.

DaddyLoveXXX: Come on now, that isn’t very sexy at all! Hold on…


Yeah, now you’re getting into the spirit Hog! Looking sexy, getting my cock hard. Why don’t you go find one of those toys you have, and then come back and we’ll play someone.

OldHogPervert: Toys? What…


No–fuck you, no, I’m not putting anything in my ass!


Oh really? 


I thought disgusting perverts like you put things in your ass all the time, though. In fact, I bet there’s something in that old hole of yours right now.

Plug_My_PiggyHole: Oh fuck, why does that feel so good?

DaddyLoveXXX: Because you’re a slutty daddy piggy, that’s why! Fuck, look at you go, ramming that thing in deep–it looks big enough to be a fist! I bet you’d rather have my cock in your ass though, isn’t that right?


Don’t just give me that little half nod–type it out. I want to see it.


I wish you were fucking my old piggy hole.


God, why did I just call it that?


Because that’s what it is!


Daddy, keep a hold of yourself–don’t you go making another mess now!


Fuck Hog, we’re going to have to keep you better under control, so you don’t keep cumming like that.

Locked_PiggyHole: What the fuck is this fucking thing? How do you get it off?


It doesn’t fucking come off daddy–you’re going to be wearing that new cage for a long, long time–fuck, here it comes!


Damn hog, that was a fun session. Glad you enjoyed yourself as much as I did.


Please, just change me back now…


Oh alright.

LinebackerPiggy: Wait–I’m young again, but I’m still fat! And my cock’s still in this damn cage! Change me all the way back!


No way! I don’t think your coach would be very happy with me for messing with his piggy linebacker slave, do you?


No, you can’t do this to me, please!


DaddyLoveXXX has signed off.>


Fucking get back on here! 

<DaddyLoveXXX has signed off.>

Connected/related to this caption

“No boy, I still don’t think that’s shiny enough, do you?”

He shivered again, felt the leather glove against his scalp as he pulled the brush back, looking down at the boots of his master–

Master? No, this was…who was he again?

Coworker? They came to the convention together, didn’t they? But he’d come back to discover this…older man in these leathers, who had complained that his boy hadn’t shined his boots properly, and now here he was, trying as hard as he could. Why wasn’t anything good enough?

“I’m…sorry sir.”

“Don’t be sorry, just fix it boy.”

The leather glove on his hand was firmer now, pressing down.

“Go on, look closer. See those smudges? Looks like shit, boy, you can do better for daddy.”

The leather was so shiny he could see his reflection, though in the curve of the black, he seemed to be warped. His face seemed so smooth, as smooth as the boot. Where had his beard gone? Where had his hair gone? The glove weighed him down, and he found himself moving closer still to the top of the boot, fear and a strange exhilaration overwhelming him. Licking the leather, tasting the boot black, it seemed so natural. Proper.

He was cold. Naked. Bent over as he was, he saw his suit had disappeared. His body was as smooth as his face, as smooth as the boot. Flabby, underdeveloped. His one accessory was the metal cage around his puny cock and balls, to keep his boymeat in check.

Daddy allowed him up, and he inspected the surface. “Better boy.” Now the other one. The boy’s cock throbbed in his cage and he leapt to the other boot, hungry for the flavor of leather now, tongue black, teeth gritty, but anything for his daddy, anything.

Learning to Like Ass (Part 2)

Rudy started screaming, but the knife–it was definitely a knife, landed against his throat.

“I won’t kill ya–just…fuck up your voice box a bit. Or do you just wanna be quiet for daddy?”

He shut up. The knife rolled over his neck, and then the biker dragged the tip down his chest. He didn’t apply enough force to cut him, but Rudy stopped breathing anyway, freezing his body as best he could, feeling the knife slip lower, past his cock where it finally came up from his skin.

“Not an assman, what a crock a shit. Guys like you should be happy anyone’s willing tah offer you a hole at all. Can’t do to be that picky, you know.”

“I get plenty of tail,” Rudy spat at him.

“Heh, sure man. That’s why you’re prowlin’ ‘round the rest stop, cause ya got plenty a tail. No Rudy, no one wants tah get fucked a sad sack like you.”

Rudy started to retort, but froze when he felt something slip between his legs and between his ass cheeks. It wasn’t the knife, like he’d first expected–it was just the biker’s finger–and before he could object he started pressing at Rudy’s hole with the tip, massaging it slowly, and unable to stop himself, Rudy let out a long sigh, collapsed onto the bed and moaned.

“Don’t worry man, mah finger’s can work magic,” the biker said. “What do ya think, man? Think I can convince ya anal might not be so bad?”

“F-Fuck you…” Rudy groaned, his back arching, limbs tugging at the ropes holding him to the bed.

“Fuck me? No no no, fuck you, Rudy.”

He tried to shut his hole up, but the man’s finger just…just slipped into him effortlessly, and fuck, it felt good in there, like it fucking belonged. His cock was hard, and he could already feel it pulsing, getting ready to blow. Deeper still, fuck, more, another finger, something, he needed it, he was so close, he was gonna explode–


He woke up, with a suddering groan, two of his own fingers burrowed deep in his own ass, and his cock started spraying cum across the bed sheets he’d kicked off in the night. He just laid there, fingers still inside, panting and looking around. Hadn’t…he been tied up? Out the window, the sky was the deep purple of the hours before dawn, but it had been pitch black, hadn’t it? When he’d been in here? He realized his hand was still inside him, and he yanked it out, got up from the bed and immediately washed his hands over and over until he couldn’t smell it anymore, and then looked around for evidence, but found nothing. He had no bruises or marks on his wrists or ankles, not even a speck of ash from the biker’s cigar that he’d been smoking. So had it been a dream? He’d never had a dream like that, it had felt so damn real! He managed to shake it off after a bit, and by then it was time for work, so he got dressed and left the trailer, hoping he could just forget about it as quickly as possible.

The rest of the week was just…strange. He didn’t quite feel like himself. He’d look at himself in the mirror, and something would throw him off–the scraggly beard, the unkempt hair, the paunch–none of which he could recall having before. Sure, he was himself, but…maybe it was just his confidence or something, but he kept striking out. Girls who usually were desperate for a lay with him were suddenly throwing him cold shoulders or coming up with lame excuses for why they didn’t want to meet with him. The guys at the rest area seemed equally uninterested, and for the first time in long time, he went several days without fucking anyone, and it was driving him mad. It didn’t help that whenever he masturbated he…couldn’t get himself over the edge. He’d stroke for hours on end, but all that would happen is he’d end up even hornier than he’d started. He couldn’t sleep either. He was too terrified that he might…dream like that again, or worse that it hadn’t been a dream, and the biker would show up like before.

It was a week and a half, when it happened again. He’d started sleeping a bit better, but the crushing horniness was only getting worse. The heat was increasing too, as summer wore on, and he woke that night in a froth, his cock achingly hard, and resigned himself to try again. He started stroking, but nothing was happening, but he also couldn’t stop! He wanted to cum so badly, he’d…he’d do fucking anything.

“Anything, Rudy?”

His stomach tried to crawl it’s way out his mouth. He looked over, and there, smoking one of those nasty cigars of his, was the fucking biker, right there in his armchair, watching him try to jack off. “What…How did you get in here?”

“The door, Rudy–you fucking dumbass,” the biker said, and stood up, “Yeah, dumbass. Anybody else woulda put two and two together, but ya couldn’t even get tah two in the first place. You remember what made you feel so good last time, Rudy? Why don’t you try that and see what happens.”

No–not that. But his hand, it…it wouldn’t stop. He licked two fingers, rolled over a bit and poked at his hole, gasping immediately as precum started gushing from his cock. He fingered himself, deep, desperate to cum, but as good as it felt, it…wasn’t enough. “I still can’t cum, you fuck,” Rudy said, “What the fuck did you do to me?”

“You can’t cum, Rudy, cause fingers aren’t enough for you–you know that,” the biker unzipped the fly of his pants and let his huge cock fall from his pants. It…looked ever bigger than before, and fuck, Rudy wanted it inside him, he hadn’t even known how much he wanted it, but fuck did he.

“Oh god, fuck me, fuck me please! Please, I just want to cum, please…” Rudy said, rolled up on his hands and knees, ass towards the biker’s cock.

“Heh, if you insist Rudy, if you insist.”

Ruining Mr. Fisher (Part 4)

“But dad, I had plans this weekend already! I don’t understand why I needed to come meet some fucking buddy of yours anyway, I could care less,” Shawn said, slouching down a bit further in the passenger seat of his dad’s luxury sedan. “Where in the hell does this guy live, anyway? We’re in the middle of nowhere. I thought you said he was a coworker of yours.”

“He is–he works at the same company as me,” Gerard, Shawn’s father, said. It wasn’t technically a lie. He did work with Ned…sort of. More accurately, Ned had made his life a living hell for the last half of a year. The anticipation of having his cock unlocked however was too exciting, and Gerard felt more cum ooze from his massive balls into his damp crotch.

“Dad…are you alright?” Shawn had noticed his father’s knuckles were white, they were clenching the steering wheel so tight. “This isn’t some nasty boyfriend of yours or something is it? You know I don’t want to meet any of your faggot friends.”

“I’m fine. He’s not…we’re not together, no. He’s just a friend. You’ll…you’ll like him, I promise. He just likes living out in the country, is all.”

“He makes this commute everyday?”


Shawn was seventeen, and currently attended an elite private school his father paid for. He only saw his massively obese, disgusting faggot father one weekend a month, but that was almost too much for him. He hated his father’s guts, to be honest–he couldn’t believe he was his father actually, this obese fat worthless fuck. Still, he’d insisted Shawn come with him, or he’d tell his ex-wife about those…photos Shawn had on his computer. Finally, after almost forty-five minutes on the road, they pulled into a gravel drive, and pulled up in front of a mobile home. Shawn took one look at the ramshackle single wide, and turned to his dad in disbelief. “Here? This guy lives here?”

“Come on, I’ll introduce you,” Gerard said, and got out of the car, sounding a bit stressed, but Shawn didn’t even unbuckle his seatbelt.

“No–I’m not…this is fucking dumb. Take me home, I don’t care what you tell mom.”

“Come on son, this is important,” Gerard said, and opened the passenger door. “Just…just do this for me, please?”

Shawn just looked up at him, and said, “No.” That one word had settled enough arguments for him in the past with his parents, but just to be cautious, he added, “No, and if you don’t drive me home this instant I’m going to tell mom about this, and her lawyers are going to have a field day. It won’t matter what you tell her, because you’ll never fucking see me again.”

Gerard let out a noise of frustration, and stormed away from the car, “You’re such a spoiled brat!” he shouted, “Just get out of the fucking car.”

The door to the trailer swung open, and silhouetted in the door was a massively fat figure, and some obese redneck tromped down the stairs, “Ya bring ‘em, bitch?”

“Y-Yes sir, he’s in the car, but he won’t get out.”

“Heh, I got it, since a bitch like you can’t control a fuckin’ boy.”

Ned lumbered over the the car door, and Shawn closed it before the fatass could get there, but the guy didn’t seem to care, he just leaned against the glass, with something shiny swinging from his fingers. What…what was that? Some medallion or something? Shawn found himself obsessed with it, unable to look away, unable to do much of anything, actually. Without really knowing why, he opened the car door again, undid his seatbelt and got out of the car, all without removing his eyes from the shiny thing still swinging in front of his face. Distantly, he was aware of the redneck running his chubby hands all over his body, even down the front of his pants, feeling his cock and balls in his underwear, before turning away from him and walking back towards his dad–without the medallion in his eyes, he felt his mind leap forward, and he tried to shout…but he couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak, all he could do was stand there like a statue, listening to the redneck talk to his dad.

“Look…I brought him like…like you told me to. Would you please unlock it sir? I…I can’t fucking sleep, it hurts so much.”

“No bitch, It stays locked.”

“But you said–”

“I keep the boy fer the weekend. Come back Sunday night, eight o’clock to pick ‘em up. Then ya git some time out a there. Now drop yer pants, I got a load fer yer ass.”

They didn’t move out of Shawn’s eye sight, and he couldn’t close them, as he watched his dad drop his pants and lean up against the side of the trailer, while the redneck dropped his own pants and with some adjusting of his own fat apron shoved his cock in his father’s ass…and…and it looked like Gerard was enjoying it. It sounded like it too, and he kept begging the redneck to unlock it, to let him shoot. The redneck finished, and when his dad turned around, he saw his father’s cock was…encased in some metal thing, like a cage, but then he had his slacks pulled up again. Without looking at his son, Gerard walked around to the car, got in, and drove away, trying not to think about what he’d just done, and the redneck came around beside Shawn.

“Name’s Ned, boy, but ya don’ git tah call me that. Ya jus’ git tah call me master. Now git in there, ‘n let’s see if yer hole’s as tight as yer bitch father’s was.”

Ruining Mr. Fisher (Part 3)

Needless to say, Gerard began staying late much more often at the office. In fact, he found it impossible to leave until Ned had come through to clean the office, and to find some new way to bring the banker down a few more pegs at a time. It was the very next night that Ned made the banker strip naked in his presence–the fat redneck gave him a hand job and then as soon as Gerard’s cock softened again, forced his cock into a metal cage, and locked it with a padlock. It was a tight fit–immediately Gerard’s cock tried to get hard again, and the pain was excruciating, but he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Ned said he needed to be punished for cumming without permission, and so the cage would stay on until he felt Gerard had earned an orgasm for himself.

Gerard never earned an orgasm, not in the next several months. Most nights, Ned would simply come by the office, looking more and more filthy and disheveled and slobby each day, force Gerard to serve him in any number of ways, and then leave him again. At first, Gerard would do his best to not do anything to make Ned change him further–he was agreeable and wouldd serve him as required…and in some ways he kind of enjoyed it. He’d already found himself making time for himself throughout the day to slip away from the office for an hour or two, so he could go to the porn theaters and shops downtown and suck a few loads from strangers when he got hungry. On the weekends, he would spend the entire afternoon and evening there, drinking cum like a fiend, praying his wife wouldn’t figure out why he was suddenly completely uninterested in having sex with her–not that they’d had sex much at all, in this new life of his. Still, Gerard could only take so much humiliation, and from time to time, Ned’s picking and goading would work. Gerard would start resisting–would yell and scream and swear and try to punch and anything to get back at Ned for ruining his life, and Ned would use his outbursts as excuses to press the medallion to his heart again, and ruin his life bit by bit.

The second week, during his first outburst, Gerard made the mistake of ridiculing Ned for his size and fat body–so Ned shifted his life until Ned himself was a binge eater. His waist exploded in size immediately, and Gerard kept hoping it would stop, as he looked down at himself, but it just kept going, stopping only when he was over four hundred pounds. Not quite as large as Ned, but still, that shut him up. He hated it though–he was hungry constantly, and found that he had to have a snack with him at all times, or he couldn’t function, and the only place he could go for lunch and feel full were all you can eat buffets. After two weeks he broke down, begging Ned to let him stop eating for a bit. Ned took a kind of pity on him. Gerard didn’t stop eating by any means, but suddenly he loved the feeling of his fat body, and found himself fantasizing about becoming even larger. Eating became a challenge, to see how much he could stuff in his face each day, and even though he was disgusted with himself, he couldn’t stop. Worse, the fuller his belly the more turned on he got, but his cock, trapped in a cage, couldn’t be satisfied. Instead, he just ate more and more, driven into a sexual feeding frenzy–usually capping off his meals with at least ten loads of cum from strangers at the bathhouse.

The situation with his wife and son was becoming unbearable however–whenever he was home, it seemed like they were fighting. Two months after Ned first seized control of him, he broke down in tears, on his knees in front of the redneck, begging him for mercy, desperate to keep his family together. The redneck just laughed at him, pressed the medallion to Gerard’s chest, and when it pulled away, he didn’t have to worry about his wife anymore, since he’d been divorced for years. Ned consoled him as he sobbed, reminding him that now he lots more time to spend stuffing his face and sucking cock, without have to worry about hiding it from his bitch of an ex-wife. He still saw his son on occasion–one weekend a month. Shawn hated his father’s faggot guts however, and refused to spend any quality time with him at all, even when he did have a moment of custody.

Still, Ned helped him settle in a comfortable, bachelor lifestyle. Ned gave him a ten cigar a day smoking habit, and made him an alcoholic–helped him realize how silly it was taking a shower every day–or more than once a week. After six months, Gerard was a completely different person–close to over 450 pounds, reeking of sweat, smoke and booze, ill fitting and often unwashed clothing, crusty with food and cum. He’d gone from being the star of the company in a corner office to a low level manager barely hanging onto his job–but he hung on all the same. It was, really, the last bit of himself that he had left.

Then, one night, Ned told him that he’d finally thought of a way for Gerard to earn an orgasm for himself. All he had to do was, when the next weekend came that his son Shawn was staying with him, bring his son out to the trailer where Ned lived in the country, and give him to Ned. If Gerard brought him his only son, then he could get the chance to shoot his first load in months. Gerard refused, at first, until Ned pressed the medallion to a new spot on his body, right over his cock, inflating his genitals to massive proprotions. His cock, which ached already, was suddenly in constant pain in it’s enclosure, and his cum production was so constant that even in his cage he leaked constantly. The pain was too much to bear, and so Gerard agreed–he’d bring Ned his son, for a chance to be free of this pain. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do, but what choice did he have? He couldn’t live like this, and…and it wasn’t like Shawn loved him anyway. In fact, he kind of hated his son, hated the way he looked at him. If he could get a little comfort, then Shawn was a sacrifice Gerard was willing to make.