Joining The Family (Part 1)

Considering everything the boy had been through, I suppose it was pretty impressive he was as happy-go-lucky as he was. His father sent off to prison when he was seven–dumb as boy a mine, I’ll take credit for that one. Never…quite knew how to be a good father, you know? The fuckin’ babe just pops out, and it’s not like you have a damn instruction manual. Yeah, his dad was a lout–drunk, unemployed. Got busted cooking meth with a buddy, ended up shooting a dang cop! He’s gonna rot away in there, and serves him right. Still, Mikey’s mom didn’t hang around for much longer–she needed her fix, after all. She ditched him on the steps of my trailer, just some kid I barely knew–it’s not like my son brought him around to see Gramps very often. Then she hopped on the back of a motorcycle, driven by some fat fuck with fewer teeth than her, somehow, and she hasn’t come back. I doubt she ever will. Wouldn’t matter anyway–court’s given me full custody, and I resolved to do better with this generation than the last.

Still, I owe a lot of it to Mikey–he’s a real good kid, you know? Not like his father ever was, at least, or maybe I just have a bit more patience now. Helps that I stopped drinking, and the church helps us out too, of course. Gives us a some structure. And now, here he is–seventeen and almost a man, not that you’d really know it, looking at him, or maybe I just see him that way since I raised him. He still looks fourteen to me, his bright eyes, chubby face. Barely has any stubble anywhere on his body, and he’d rather be down in the forest catching crawdads than chasing girls–which is a better occupation in my book. He doesn’t have the grades for college or anything, but he’s already got a job helping out in the kitchen at the roadside diner down the road from our trailer park–he’s got a real talent for cooking, not that you’d know it, looking at the beanpole. He’s put a few pounds on me though, with his food at the diner! Things were going great–until things suddenly weren’t going so great.

It was spring, I remember that–just finishing up his junior year. Now, Mikey had never been very good at making friends. He just…had a hard time trusting people, and opening up, I think. He was always a quiet kid, and I don’t think he’d ever invited anyone over to his house, and had rarely gone anywhere else to play. It was usually just him and the forest until he came home at dusk for dinner. Then, one day, he wasn’t on the school bus when it rolled by. I assumed he’d just missed it, which happened on occasion if he got hung up by a teacher. I was getting ready to drive to school and pick him up, wondering why he hadn’t called me to tell me. I went outside, in time to find some mud crusted pickup, spewing fumes, roll into the trailer park, stop, and a moment later, out came Mikey, laughing and smiling at the other boys in the truck, gave them a wave, and then walked over to me and came inside.

I asked him who they were, and he just said they were some kids from his class who’d offered to give him a ride. He smelled of smoke and…something else I couldn’t place. Something a bit musky? His quietness had changed as well–before he’d been happy to talk about anything once he got talking–but suddenly he was clamming up, dodging questions. He excused himself and went to his room–odd since he usually preferred the woods after school, and he didn’t come out until dinner, and when he came out this time–he still reeked of smoke and that musky smell again…and I realized what it was. He’d been masturbating.

Now, like I said, he hadn’t shown really…any interest in girls, or sex at all for that matter, as long as he’d been in my trailer. So this was odd, to say the least. Now, I’m religious, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a guy busting a nut now and then. Hell, I jack off plenty myself, and I don’t want to be a hypocrite, so I just let it slide. I figured he’d get over it, or if it became an issue, we could talk about it.

Well, it wasn’t the masturbating that became the issue, it was the smoking. From that day on, he stopped taking the bus–instead, he caught rides with those new friends of his. It took me days to pry their names out of him–Apparently the ringleaders (that is, the two who drove the truck the rest of them rode around in) were Dale and Rick Pearson–twin brothers in the same grade as Mikey. Everytime, he smelled like smoke, and he insisted he wasn’t having any of it, and I believed him–until I found the lighter and the pack of reds in his room! I threw them out, and we had a long talk–well, a long argument at least. He was pissed I’d gone through his room, and I can understand that, but I didn’t want him smoking. He didn’t see anything wrong with it–after all, Dale and Rick smoked all the time! It didn’t end well–I sent him to his room, which was where he wanted to be anyway, and…he stayed mad at me for a while. I knew he was still smoking, but I couldn’t prove it, and I blamed those two twins, for coming between us. I hoped that this was going to be the worst of it, but it turns out things were only going to go downhill from there.

When Nick moved back in with his father, after college, because he couldn’t find a job that paid him enough to live on his own, he immediately noticed that his father had struck up a friendship with a neighbor who had moved next door while Nick was at school. His dad wouldn’t say much about him, but the two of them would spend hours in the neighbor’s garage, and every time his dad came home, he’d reek of cigars and beer–things his father never would have touched when Nick was a kid, before his mom left them.

His dad had changed a bit too–he’d grown a beard, he’d quit his job as an accountant and worked as a delivery truck driver–something Nick told him was below his level of intellect…but the more he talked with his dad, the less he was sure of that. His dad didn’t seem too…smart all of a sudden. The man who’d taught him to build electric circuit boards when he was a teenager couldn’t figure out simple math problems. He sounded like some…hick.

He was certain something was going on, and he was going to figure out what it was. One morning, after Mr. Pescole, the neighbor, had left for work, he noticed that he’d left his garage door open. Curious, he went over, slipped inside, and closed it behind him, planning on just taking a little peek–when someone came up and forced something over his head. He fought whoever it was, but…but whatever it was, the mask, it was making his head hurt, it was making him…horny. He got down on his hands and knees, snorting, ripping at his clothes, the mysterious man tearing them away, and then forcing something else on him, these leather straps, but Nick didn’t care–Nick just wanted to cum.

There was the sound of a camera taking a picture, then he heard his father’s voice.

“Sir, he came, just like you thought he would.”

“…”

“All…all day? But, I only wore it for a few hours, I mean…”

“…”

“Yeah…I mean, yes sir, sorry sir. I understand, I’ll be punished when you get home, yes. We’ll be here.”

Nick tried to speak, but all he could do was grunt and moan. His body was hot, he could…feel something pushing from his skin, hairs. His father got down and wrapped his hand around Nick’s cock, his son thrusting into his fist until he shot a load all over the garage floor.

“I’m…sorry son. But Master–try not to worry, you’ll like it. There…won’t be much of you left, I don’t think, but you’ll be happy. I promise.”

Source: 2016hailcock

Requested by Anonymous

Derrick and I, we did everything together; we were twins, and we hated being apart, even when we were little. As we grew up, we played sports together, we worked out together–we were great on the field, because it was almost like we always knew what the other was thinking. Of course we went to the same college–but then, well, we’re still together, just not like we’d been before.

We shouldn’t have picked on that fag, but how in the hell were we supposed to know he was a wizard? One day, everything was normal, and then, the next…I wasn’t human at all–I was my twin brother’s jockstrap, and that fucking faggot was my brother’s roommate, in my place. I didn’t know how it had happened–I screamed, I shouted, I did everything I could, to get Derrick to notice me, to remember me, but he didn’t even remember that he’d had a brother–no one did. It was like that fucking faggot had erased me from existence.

Life as a jockstrap–it was terrible. I can…kind of access what’s going on around us, through Derrick. But I can’t do anything, and worse…I can taste everything. It’s like having my tongue pressed to my brother’s cock all day and night–because he never takes me off anymore. That wasn’t the worst thing, though–the worst was seeing what that faggot did to my brother. My brother was a fag now–ever since that first day, when he begged that fucker for his cock, and he rode my twin’s ass while gripping my waistband–see, he can hear me, and he can talk to me, and he taunted me, telling me everything about the spell he’d cast, but things only got worse from there.

He started…changing my brother. In less than a year, he went from a star athlete to a fat, filthy slob–it hurt, getting stretched out by his huge thighs, feeling how…how disgusting I was becoming. I’m a dingy brown at this point, he’s worn a few holes into me, and…and it’s wearing at my mind. It’s hard to not…enjoy the taste of his cock, of his cum. I…I kind of crave it, actually. I’ve been so close to him for so long, I don’t think I could live without it. That fag made Derrick into a complete piss pig, a few weeks ago–now he goes out to clubs, dressed in this disgusting leather gear, climbs into these tubs and scores of guys just piss on us, and I drink it all up too. I drink it all up…because it tastes so…damn good.

I can’t remember being human anymore. I don’t even know what that would be like. The fag–he keeps telling me that my minds just going to keep disappearing, bit by bit, that soon, I won’t even have thoughts anymore–I’ll just be a perfect, filthy jock, and nothing more. Derrick, on the other hand, dropped out of school and took a construction job. He’s only going to be getting fatter, and filthier too…and…and there’s no man I’d rather be with, than my nasty, stinking brother.

Ruining Mr. Fisher (Part 8)

At first, it was just like all of the other times Ned had changed him. He could feel the medallion twisting back into his past, tugging at strings, unravelling what had always been such a promising, well ordered life that he’d made. But then, he felt the medallion tugging at something different, at strings and cords within him that had a higher tension, a deeper resonance. It hurt, feeling them unfurling, breaking apart and latching themselves out in new directions–and when the snapped, everything else came with them. Before, it was like Ned had been slowly cutting away at the individual strands of a thick, twined rope. However, at that moment, the rope had finally lost, and had come apart. He wasn’t even sure what, exactly had changed, way back in the past, but it was ruining everything. Nothing was the same, and he found himself whipping forward through a new timeline–one where he didn’t have money or resources, and he had no drive to seek them out. When he flunked out of school and never even bothered going to college. The few parts that he could cling to were those things Ned had already given him–his multitude of addictions, his filthy body, his masochistic desires. He rocketed forward, time flowing too fast for him to follow, space warping it’s way around him now. He was nowhere suddenly, and then he was somewhere new, the light dying back, leaving him crumpled on a filthy floor, heaving for breath in a fetal position, trying to understand what he’d just witnessed.

“Well, come on bitch–you can’t just lay there all fuckin’ day,” Ned said, “Come on boy, help me git yer worthless father up.”

Shawn and Ned got down, each took one of Gerard’s doughy arms and together managed to haul his fat ass up again, shivering and shaking and looking around him. He’d been in his house, hadn’t he? But he’d never owned a house before. He’d always lived in…trailers. Trailers like this one, where he was standing. He groped his way to a table, lit a cigar and smoked it, fighting how normal this felt, trying to keep away the memories blocking him in, making that old him, that successful him nothing but a tired fantasy. “Where…What did…” He never finished the questions, and Ned didn’t answer them because Gerard–or Gerry, rather–knew the answers.

He was in his trailer. Ned had made it so he’d never been a banker at all, but more than that. Ned had ruined his entire life, and now…now, here he was. Living in a disgusting, rundown single wide trailer. He worked as a septic tank and sewer repairman. Worse yet…he loved it. In fact, he realized that Ned had given him a slight reprieve from his previous inability to feel anything with his cock–now the only thing that could get him hard was the pungent odor of a septic system, a backed up toilet, or an especially rank fart pushed out while his tongue was buried in deep. He sat down on the edge of his bed, sheets rank with cum shots from him and his son, and let out a massive, wet fart, felt his tiny cock squirm to life, and started snorting up his own stink, feeling his constant, raging horniness begin pushing every other thought from his mind.

“Don’t worry Gerry, I made sure you live right next door to me. It’s a bit lonely right now, just the two of us, but I’ve been keeping an eye on a few of your old coworkers, you know. The three of us will have plenty of company around here soon enough.”

“Ya fuckin’ bastard,” Gerry muttered, barely even noticing his new accent, “Ya ain’t fuckin’ won, ya know. I still gots me in here.”

“Oh trust me Gerry, I know,” Ned said, and walked up to him, and pressed his medallion back against Gerry’s breast, “I can take care of that too.”

It didn’t hurt, and that was worse–it was just warm, and comforting, and…and easy. He felt the scar which he’d had on his chest ever since Ned had first touched the Medallion there beginning to stitch back together, fading away–and along with the mark, his old mind and memories were fading too. “No…nuh-uh, please…” he slurred, a bit sleepy, “Don’…I didn’t mean it…”

Ned stroked one hand through Gerry’s greasy, filthy locks of hair, leaned in and whispered to him, “I know, but I was gonna do it anyway.”

When Ned pulled the medallion away, Gerry’s skin was perfect, without a mark to be seen. His nasty, shit loving neighbor looked around dimly, like he was trying to remember something but couldn’t, then let loose a long loud fart and gave a big belly laugh. “Fuck, that was a good’un!” he said, “Rank fucker gittin me horned up. Ya’ll gonna plow my nasty pig holes or what? Come on son, ya ain’t fucked pa yet tahday, ‘n I need that big ass fuckstick plowin’ me deep,” Gerry said, rolled over and presented his hole to Shawn, who smiled, stroked his cock a few times and slammed it in, Gerry squealing in pleasure.

Ned watched the father and son fuck for a moment, and then got up on the bed, in front of Gerry, and dropped his pants, his ass towards his neighbor’s face. “What do ya say pig? Ya hungry?”

“Fuck yeah, Ned, ‘specially if ya ain’t wiped up–then again, Ah ain’t never seen a roll a toilet paper within ten miles a here.”

“Why spend money on that crap when I got the best fuckin’ asseater right next door?” Ned said, shoved his crack into Gerry’s face and let loose a ripe fart. The pig spasmed, feeling cum spew from his nipple like cock, oozing down from his gunt and dribbling into his bed sheets, but Gerry just focused on eating out the nasty hole in front of him, grinding his filthy beard into it, tongue burrowing deep. This was the life, he thought. The perfect life for a pig like him–everything he’d ever wanted, and he’d never want for more ever again.

Ruining Mr. Fisher (Part 6)

The light died back after about thirty seconds, but Gerard kept his face turned away. He…didn’t want to look at him. He didn’t want to see what he’d just done to his only son. It didn’t really matter though, because he knew everything about the new Shawn anyway, from his new memories that were forming in his mind, coming unbidden to him, the previous Shawn fading away to a distant memory.

Shawn–he’d always been Gerard’s pride and joy. Brilliant from a young age, with his father’s drive and ambition, he’d funneled him into the most advanced private schools and academies he could find. They hadn’t always had the best of relationships, but that was because Gerard wanted him to be great, before all of this, before Ned had first flashed that medallion in front of his eyes, Shawn had been seventeen, at the front of his class, with full ride scholarships to Harvard and Yale. He’d been talking about becoming a Senator, or President, one day, and Gerard knew he could do it, and part of him had always hated it. Always hated him for…outshining him, for taking the stepping stones he’d provided as his father and using them even better than he’d imagined he’d might, even better than Gerard could have used them. As Ned had torn him down, few things had hurt more than the contempt he’d seen in his son’s eyes, every time he looked at his faggot failure of a father. Part of him had always wanted to see him fail at something, but what he’d done now, was make it so Shawn had never even tried to do anything in his entire life.

A difficult child, he’d gotten in fights even at preschool–he’d never made it far academically, and once everyone at all the other schools had gotten wind of his son’s violent tendencies, they’d all barred him admission. He couldn’t even succeed at public school, and Gerard had been forced to bail him out of trouble for bullying and violent outbursts for years. He’d been expelled two months into his freshman year of high school. Gerard had paid for tutors, but none lasted, and now Shawn didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to do…and Gerard couldn’t make him do anything at this point. The rock in his stomach wouldn’t settle, and he finally turned around, and found Ned on top of his son, his new son, the two of them kissing and eating each other’s sweaty faces, grinding their crotches together.

Shawn had always been in decent shape, but now he was massive. After all, he spent all his free time (and he had a lot of free time) working out and practicing boxing and wrestling with men who doubled as fuck buddies most of the time. Gerard had caught him with steroids over and over, but had never been able to stop him from taking them, and that had only made him bigger and more aggressive than before. Shawn had gotten the first of his piercings when he was eleven, behind his parents’ backs, and his first tattoo in exchange for a blow job when he was fourteen. At this point he had more metal in him than Gerard could count, and at least three quarters of his body covered in shoddy, sloppy ink work.

“Fuckin’ A,” Shawn said, when Ned lifted away from his mouth, his nose broken in multiple places, eyes swelled from beatings, half his teeth missing from his mouth. “Didn’t…fuckin’ know I could feel this fuckin’ good. Fuckin’ powerful man…Fuck! I feel fuckin’ good, ya know?”

“I bet you do,” Ned said, “But here, let me give you some better equipment, eh?” Ned pressed the medallion into Shawn’s flesh, above his cock, and Gerard wanted his son’s cock and balls grow to obscene proportions–maybe not as large as his own were, confined tight in this cage, but at least eleven inches, and the size of two oranges.

“Yeah man, now that’s a fuckin’ fuckstick,” Shawn wrapped both scarred, tattooed hands around the shaft and started milking it, “Fuckin’ fantastic…”

Ned took a step back, admiring the muscular monster lying on his bed, veins bulging, huge roid gut, stupid stare on his face as he drooled and stroked his meat. “Hard tah believe a sexy fucker like that came outa yer seed, bitch, gotta say.”

“You…what the fuck, you fucking ruined him…”

“Sure fuckin’ did, but he likes it. Still, a deal’s a deal, so let’s get that cage off ya,” Ned said. Gerard hefted up his apron and let Ned get at the cage there–but instead of unlocking it, he felt a searing heat as Ned pressed the medallion in the spot over his cock, and after a moment there was a loud clank, as the cage hit the floor, and Ned stood back up. Gerard reached under for his cock, but found nothing but fat. He kept looking, and couldn’t find his balls either. Eventually his hands found a half inch nub of a cock–more of a nipple buried in his gunt, and a couple of small balls. His face went red with rage. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

“The cage is off–I didn’t say how it would happen. Don’t need it anyway–that nub is dead flesh–no nerves, and you can’t shoot anyway, not with those dry balls. Now all we gotta do is fix the two of you up, and we’ll be golden.”

“What…what are you talking about?”

“Well, yer ex ain’t gonna want tah deal with a monster like that. ‘Sides, I have a feelin’ yer gonna like yer son a lot more in a second.”

Gerard tried to move, but he was frozen in place as Ned took the medallion and pressed it to his own breast–a seemingly endless flash later, he stumbled back, unable to believe what he was remembering, as his son got up from the bed and started towards him. “No–No, Shawn, please no, I–”

The right hook caught him mid sentence, and he felt another tooth dislodge from his mouth as he fell to the floor, his son grabbing him in a raging, erotic heat, driving his massive cock deep into his father’s hole. It hurt, and worse, it didn’t…feel good. All it did was hurt. Before, when Gerard had been fucked, it had felt good, but this, he screamed, and tried to crawl away, his son biting into his flabby shoulder and drawing blood as he drove in deeper, slamming his father’s face into the floor of the trailer, stunning him so he laid there and let his son rape his hole.

Ruining Mr. Fisher (Part 5)

That weekend was especially excruciating for Gerard. He’d only managed his energy to Saturday morning, assuming he would finally be free of this horrific cage once he’d delivered his son out to Ned’s trailer in the country. But driving back, he had to pull over and sob for half an hour, groping at his aching, giant cock imprisoned in a tiny meal device, his balls churning and pumping cum out anyway into his slacks, which he would wipe up with his hands and lick off, disgusted but unable to help himself. When he felt this way, the easiest thing was always to lose himself in sex.

He got home in the early afternoon, and immediately changed into his sex gear–the ratty leathers he’d had for years, which had suddenly appeared in his closet one evening after Ned had given him a sudden affinity, and history, with bondage and pain play. He went out, and started cruising. Everyone in the community knew him, of course, and the fast majority had fucked him, whether they’d known it was him or not in the dark. He focused on his service, on drinking cum, on licking bodies clean, and was lucky enough to find a leathered up silver muscle daddy to take him home and beat him for a few hours, to take his mind off his chastity for a while.

Sunday morning was still difficult. He slept late, at least, but then it was the waiting. Ned had said to come back at night, but hadn’t given him a specific time. If he arrived too early…he didn’t want to know what Ned might do. He decided to time it so he’d get to the trailer at seven, spent the day trying to focus on some work he was behind on at the bank but he ended up chain smoking cigars and getting a little tipsy instead, and then got in the car and started the journey back to see what Ned had done with his son. He…felt a lot worse than he’d expected to. Sure, in this new life Ned had made for him, his son hated his guts–and he hated his son in good measure as well–he also could remember how close the two of them had been…before all of this had happened. He couldn’t take it back though, not now. He wondered what Ned might have done to him, searching his own memories, but everything seemed the same as before. Would he even know if Ned had changed him with the medallion? No one else had noticed when he’d been changed, so maybe everything he could remember was normal now.

He pulled up in front of the trailer, and walked up the steps; he could feel a minor rumble as the trailer shook, voices inside moaning. He knocked, and he heard Ned’s voice shout, “Git in here!” Inside, the lights were dim. Ned was on the bed, soaked with sweat, Shawn was in front of him, clutching the head of the bed as Ned hammered his cock deep into his hole. The entire trailer reeked of sweat, cum, and smoke. “I’m almost done bitch, git a cigar lit, sit down, and watch me plow yer boy’s hole. You like Master Ned plowin’ your hole, right boy?”

“F-Fuck, fuck yeah…” Shawn moaned, “Harder sir…”

“Boy loves it, just like his fucking father. You want another raw load in your boy hole?”

“Yes, please…”

“Alright boy, here it comes–” Ned said, fucked a few deep thrusts, and came with a load moan, slamming Shawn up against the side of the trailer. “Bitch, be a good pig. Clean out your boy’s hole, and suck a load from him–he’s been very good, and he deserves a reward.”

Gerard couldn’t resist the order, and as soon as Ned pulled out, he had his face pressed to his son’s hole, tongue buried deep, lapping his master’s fresh cum from the hole, then flipped Shawn over and swallowed his cock to the hilt, his boy moaning. Ned had a clear view of Shawn’s chest now, and saw no mark of the medallion, like on him. Ned hadn’t done anything to him yet, but why?

Ned got off the bed and slouched in a broken in armchair, watching the father suck down his first load from his boy’s cock, medallion swinging from his fingers. “I haven’t changed him yet, as you probably noticed. Been waitin’ for you. Just wanted to break him in a bit, for fun.”

He didn’t speak for a few minutes. Shawn was getting close, and he finally let loose with a long groan, Gerard swallowing everything down like a good pig, enjoying the taste of his son’s cum. It…it reminded him strangely of his own. He pulled away and wiped his bearded face, looking away from Shawn lying and sighing and panting on the bed, unable to believe what he’d just done, without even questioning it. Ned chuckled behind him, stood up, and walked over to him.

“Been thinking about it though, what I should do tah him. Tah ya both. Course, yer boy’s an ass, but he ain’t that much of an ass. ‘Sides, all he can think about now is gettin’ cum in his hole. Still, yer his father, I thought it should be up tah ya, what happens tah him.”

“What…what do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m givin’ ya a choice, bitch. Two options. First, I let yer boy go. He’ll love cock, sure, but he’ll still have this cushy life a his. You though, yer gonna have tah give up yer job, if you want yer son tah be happy. Give up yer past. That’s the trade–your cushy office job, that college education, all that money a yers–all that fer yer son’s future. But if all that matters more tah ya than him, ya can take option two. I won’t change you, but I will change yer boy–ya won’ even recognize him when we’re through with him. Gotta say, he’s got a great life ahead a him–the medallion tells me…things, ya see. Great man. Shame tah waste it, but it’s yer call, bitch.”

“I–I can’t, I mean…” Gerard lost his words.

“Thirty seconds. If ya don’t give me an answer, I’ll just change ya both.”

Gerard stared at his son. He…he couldn’t do that to him, could he? But his job, it was the last thing of his, the last place where…where he still felt like he could be something, where he could be the person he’d always thought he was.

“Ten seconds. Better hurry…”

Fuck, he was a fucking horrible person. “Two. Number two. I…I don’t care what you do to him, I need my job.”

Ned just stared at him, and shook his head.

“It’s–It’s all I have left. You’ve fucking taken everything else from me, you fucker!”

Ned shook his head, “Sorry boy, but yer father sure is a bastard, ain’t he?” Ned said, and climbed on top of Shawn’s prone body.

“Wait…sir, what are you talking about? I don’t–”

“Don’t worry, it’ll all be better soon,” Ned said, and pressed the medallion to Shawn’s breast, Gerard turning away from the blinding flash of light.

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?”

“Yep.”

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.”

Requested by Anonymous

Something strange had been happening around Wellsprings Senior Living Center lately, where Burt was a resident. He hadn’t thought much of it at first, when the first couple of his friends suddenly traded their golf polos and khakis for leather jackets, harnesses and rubber. It had been…different, sure, but for some reason it hadn’t alarmed him–even when these happily married men–some for fifty years–announced they had kicked their wives out and were divorcing them. Then, when he’d gotten the knock on his door that evening, and been greeted by a flash from that strange gun Mr. Lingleton had in his gloved hand, everything made more sense.

Burt had a bit of a secret, you see–he’d lost consistent control of his bladder a few years back, and had been wearing diapers ever since he’d gotten tired of wetting himself on accident. He hadn’t let anyone know–he had always been so embarrassed by his lack of self-control–but he didn’t have to worry about that now. He fell to his knees in his rubber waders, his cock spewing a massive load of piss across the carpet at the threshold of his apartment, as Mr. Lingleton hauled out his cock and showered Burt with piss from head to toe, and then left the old man to suck whatever he could from the carpet, before retreating back inside.

From that day on, he simply pissed wherever he stood–often while wearing his yellow rubber chest waders–and when he got back to his apartment he’d drink all it down–adding it to all the other piss he’d been drinking from the men who lived in the complex all day long. He’d been a bit worried when his son and grandson came to visit a couple of weeks later, but once they were in his apartment, both of them began changing as well. His grandson lost control of himself as well, almost immediately, and his father wasted no time forcing the protesting boy into his grandfather’s diapers, disciplining him sternly when he tried to run and get help. Burt just watched his middle aged son grow and expand into a massive, heavily tattooed leather daddy bear–and once his grandson was pacified and diapered like a good baby bear, his son bent Burt over the sofa and gave him a proper plowing–and afterwards gave his father a load of piss to share with his grandson.

Male Bonding (Part 2)

Needless to say, Jared found himself spending a lot of time bonding with Trevor over the next few weeks. In fact, if he wasn’t at work, then Jared was pretty much guaranteed to be in his son’s basement. If trevor was home, then both of them would be watching porn together, and Trevor would be helping his father explore this new side of his sexuality–in particular, Jared had discovered just how…wonderful it felt to be fucked, and now he wanted something in his hole all the fucking time. More than once now, he worn a butt plug all day at work–it hadn’t made it easy to get anything done, because he’d had to keep dashing off to the bathroom to jack off, but fuck, it had felt so damn good, being full like that all day long. He couldn’t wait to get home and tell Trevor all about it, while his son plowed his hole with his big cock.

The nights when Jared got home and his son wasn’t there were a bit harder. Without anyone around to fuck him right away, he had to go downstairs and play with himself for a few hours, until Trevor got done with his closing shift. Usually, this meant watching porn, fucking himself with a dildo, and sniffing and sucking on the various cumrags his son kept, usually looking for ones that were still a bit fresh and moist, left out for him specifically. This was fun and everything, but it was during these solo sessions, without his son there talking to him and encouraging him, that he would feel, at first, a bit silly. Then, more doubt would creep in, and he’d start to wonder what, exactly, he thought he was doing. Didn’t he find this disgusting? Shouldn’t he be ashamed of himself? The worst part though, was that even when these thoughts were at their strongest, he couldn’t stop himself, and he couldn’t turn them off. He felt…trapped between two versions of himself, and he didn’t know which one he…should be. Because he didn’t really want to go back to hating his son, but he couldn’t keep going like this, could he? Eventually his son would arrive home and find him bouncing on a dildo, jacking his cock, watching porn but eyes deep in thought, and after they talked for a bit the thoughts would evaporate, he’d sit on his son’s big cock, and he’d feel much better.

It felt good to talk to his son again. Well, it felt good to listen, really. His son just had so much to say, and he’d had no idea! He…He didn’t quite remember it all at the end of their bonding sessions, but he been listening intently the whole time, he swore. It was just that damn ring of his–it was so…enthralling. Jared found it really hard to even focus on the porno playing when he could be looking at the ring instead.

Work, for him, increasingly felt like torture. All he really wanted was to be back home, bonding with his son, but no–he had to be here, in this office, in this suit, working with spreadsheets and writing emails, and…and he hated it. He’d never hated it this much before, but now that he had something he enjoyed so much more, every moment that dragged him away was painful. It apparently started showing in his work, because his boss, Carter, called him in for a chat towards the end of the month to have a conversation about the quality of his work. Jared made the appropriate promises that he’d do better.

“You know, I’ve noticed–and some other people have mentioned this as well—that you seem kind of…tense lately. Easily frustrated. That just doesn’t seem like you, Jared. Is everything alright at home? I know you and Trevor were having difficulties adjusting.”

“No! No, Trevor is, like, the least of my worries,” Jared said, with the first genuine smile Carter had seen on his face in weeks, “No, we’re doing really good. We had a big talk, and actually, we’ve been…really bonding a lot lately…” He stopped himself from saying any more, figuring it probably wouldn’t be appropriate to mention to his boss how much he loved getting plowed by his son more than being at the office. “I’ve just been…I don’t know…I think I’m just running on empty at the moment.”

“Well maybe you should think about taking a vacation. You have lots of time saved up, and the office can handle being understaffed for the next few weeks.”

“I…I don’t know if that’s necessary.”

“Well, think about it. And hey, are you still on for poker night next week? Maurice is hosting over at his place. You didn’t show up last time.”

Last time, Jared hadn’t even thought about it, because he’d been too busy licking his son’s body clean after a long day at work.

“You can even bring your son along, if you’d like, he might enjoy it. Maybe getting out of the house a bit would be good for him, you know.”

“I…I don’t think poker would really interest him.”

Carter shrugged, “Well think about it. I hope you can come though.”

“I probably won’t make it, but we’ll see.”

“Too bad. Think about that vacation offer too. It looks like you could really use one.”

“I will.”

Jared got back to work and managed to keep his nose to the desk until the end of the day, embarrassed that everyone had noticed his obvious displeasure at being here right now. But he didn’t want to have to take a vacation–if anything, few weeks uninterrupted with Trevor would only make things worse. Still, he ended up discussing both issues with Trevor when he got home, and at work the next day he went into Carter’s office and told him the news–not only that he’d be happy to take a vacation–preferably a month, if possible–he’d also checked with his son, and they’d both love to go to that poker night. Carter was happy to hear both pieces of news. A month was a bit long, but Jared did have enough time banked up and the guy looked like he needed it. They worked it out on the schedule, so it would start after the following week, giving Jared a chance to wrap up whatever projects he was involved in. It ended up that his last day of work before the vacation was also poker night–that next Friday. Jared told him, and his son, couldn’t wait, and got back to work.

Male Bonding (Part 1)

Jared hadn’t been the best father–he knew that, but it wasn’t like Trevor had made it very easy for him, but he’d tried. He really had. But how in the hell are you supposed to act when your son comes out, at fifteen? Maybe he’d been a little harsh, he could admit that, but their relationship…he just hadn’t really been able to feel close to his son ever since that day. He knew, in his heart, that it wasn’t fair, that his son hadn’t done anything to feel that way, that he hadn’t chosen to be gay (after all, who would choose to be gay? It was just…just so unnatural!) but that didn’t change the fact that every time he touched his son, his stomach just…churned. It made him feel guilty, and he could tell Trevor knew how he felt, and so they just avoided each other, or fought. They’d been screaming at each other for years and somehow still calling it a relationship.

Things had been better when he’d gone to college, but when the school had pulled his financial aid, Trevor had been forced to move in with his now single father, living in the basement. He was at least able to find a job working retail at the mall, but he showed no real drive to move out and be out on his own…and he kept bringing home…men. Men! Men Jared’s age! It was…was…so disgusting! That had been their last argument, and Jared had threatened to simply throw him out, and Jared had stormed out, not returning home for several days…but when he finally came home again they finally…just, talked. They talked about it, about everything, for the first time, and Jared could at least understand where he was coming from, but he still didn’t want men coming to his house. Or, at least, he assumed that’s what they talked about. He…he couldn’t really remember the details of the conversation with any detail–his son had bought this…this ring. And the way it caught the light, it had been so…enthralling. Still, they had talked, and they finally came to a compromise–Trevor agreed that he wouldn’t host anymore, though he refused to stop having sex altogether. In return, he asked his father to dedicate time each week to bonding with him and rebuilding their relationship. He said that he just didn’t feel like he really had a father–he didn’t feel like he’d had a father for years. Jared agreed–it seemed like something he should be able to do, after all. Until he found out what his son had in mind, for their first bonding session.

“No. No! Absolutely not.”

“But you promised you would give it a try.”

“This is not at all what I thought I was agreeing to. This is disgusting! You’re disgusting!”

What Trevor had in mind to help them bond, he had discovered, was watching porn together–gay porn–and jacking each other off.

Trevor moved his ring in the light, sending a glint into his father’s face, watching his eyes lose some of their focus, “This…this really means a lot to me dad, and I just don’t think you’re trying very hard. I just don’t think you’re really committed to trying to make our relationship really work. And that…that hurts dad, it really hurts, you know? You don’t want to hurt me, do you?”

“N-No, of course not…but…but I’m not…gay.”

“You don’t have to be gay to watch porn and jack off, dad.”

“Yeah…but…” Jared knew–he knew there were other reasons, but he just…couldn’t find them.

“Take off your pants, Dad. Come sit down, and pull out your cock. At least give it a try for me.”

That…that didn’t seem too unreasonable. He dropped his jeans to the floor, and walked slowly to the couch and sat down, letting his cock slip out of his boxers. Trevor sat down next to him, wrapped his ringed hand around his father’s cock, and started stroking it. “That feels good, doesn’t it, Dad? Aren’t you enjoying this time together?”

“Y-Yeah…yeah…”

“Here dad, feel mine. Feel how hard it is? Yours is really hard too. Focus on it, focus on how good it feels, how much you enjoy having me stroke your cock, and focus on the ring, focus on the light, feel it fill your head so full that it pushes away all those other thoughts, all those doubts, and just listen to me, listen to your son, and think about how happy you are, to have this chance to rebuild our relationship, how you don’t want to damage it again, how you were such a bad daddy before, and you want to make it up to me, right?”

“…Yes…”

“That’s good. Now look at the screen. Isn’t that kind of sexy? Those two guys touching each other? Sucking each other? Fucking each other? Have you ever thought about that, Dad? Be honest now.”

“Y-Yes…”

“It’s ok, it’s ok to think that way.”

“No–I’m…not gay…”

“Push those thoughts away dad, and just enjoy yourself. Focus on those happy thoughts, those thoughts about men, focus on them. They make you feel good, they make you feel complete. You don’t like thinking about women nearly as much as men. In fact, you’re going to find it harder and harder to see women as attractive, from now on. Now stroke me faster, stroke me harder. You want to make me happy, you want me to feel good. You want to make me feel good more than anything else, you want to bond with me more than anything else. Make…Make your son cum with your own fucking hand!”

Jared stroked harder, but it all felt like a dream, like someone else’s hand was feeling his son’s cock spurt cum all over it, someone else’s mouth licking it up and relishing the flavor of his son’s cum. Some other body bending over to suck the cum from his son’s shirt. Some other person’s cock exploding at the taste of cum, that taste he’d always fantasized about, that taste he’d always wanted, just like his son had said. He was so lucky to have a son like Trevor, so happy to have a chance to bond with him like a good daddy, yes, he’d be a good daddy from now on, the best daddy, the best daddy in the whole world…