"Someone was home later than I asked them to be," my dad said, when I walked into the house with a few bags.

"Yeah, well my friend Ted was buying me groceries and I forgot, so I drove them to his house." I replied.

"I know we haven't set down any ground rules right now, since you just now moved back in, but we have to soon."

I sighed and sat down on the couch, where I would be sleeping, and set my bags down.

"Hey buddy," my dad said, sitting down next to me. "I know it's tough for now, but we'll get you a bed soon."

"Gee, thanks."

"Let's go over the rules. Rule one. Dress code. I don't mind you walking around buck naked, but try not to do it so much."

I nodded, sliding off the couch and sitting on my calves, only my toes holding me up. My bag's zipper almost tore when I pulled it down and started pulling out clothes.

"Rule two. No mind altering substances, or your ass is getting a spanking and you'll be grounded for two months."

"I'm way ahead of you." I told him, as I unpacked all my tops, bottom, socks, hats, and underwear.

"Rule three. Boys. I'll accept dating, and on occasions sleepovers, as in friends, but I don't want anyone fucking you or getting fucked by you in this house. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." I told him, as I pushed all my empty bags under the couch and set the folding clothes under the coffee table.

"I also hope you ate, because I don't have the time to feed you right now." he told me, and stood up.

"I did."

"Good. I'm going to bed."

I watched his thick, muscular body saunter off into the darkness of his room and reach out to shut the door. When his door closed, I reached down to the bottom of my shirt and pulled it over my head and off my body. Afterwards, I kicked off my shoes. My hands then wandered down to my waist, where I hooked my fingers around my shorts and pulled them down to my ankles. Then I stepped out of them, and lifted them off the ground to put in one of the bags that was underneath the couch. Then, I pulled off my socks and stuffed them into my shoes, where I had put next to the couch.

When I finished getting into my non-pajamas, I walked off to the kitchen, for something extra to munch on, even though I had eaten a sandwich less then an hour ago. The top shelf consisted of various dips and yogurts. The shelf below that stores all the meats and cheeses like smoked ghouda, bacon, salami, and pepperjack. The next shelf down had all the drinks, some sauces and leftovers, and the drawer below that had vegetables. The whole inside of the door was filled with dressings and toppings. I leaned down and reached to the back of the bottom shelf for the tupperware full of leftover spaghetti.

"I leave the room for a minute and you're already half-naked and bending over," my dad's gruff voice sounded from behind me.

"Wh- Ooh! Dad! Don't do that," I squealed, as my dad reached next to him and squeezed my left asscheek with his right hand.

"Sorry Buddy," he chuckled, bending over so that his chest pressed against my back, and his hand was still rested against my ass. "Just getting a little," he picked you whipped cream from the lowest shelf and sprayed a little on his finger, which he took off my ass. "Of this good stuff." He was wearing bright red skimpy underwear, which showed off quite a pouch at the front.

"Don't ruin your physique," I warned him, holding my own finger out.

He stood up, rolled his eyes, shook his head and the whipped cream can, and sprayed it on my shoulder. I turned and stuck out my tongue, lifting the pile of sweetness up and pulling it into my mouth, my taste buds dancing at the flavor.

"I know you have a sweet tooth," he said, giving the can to me for me only to spray some on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I do love my sugar." I told him, as I finished up the whipped cream he sprayed on my chest.

I sprayed some on his. "I wasn't talking about sugar," He was looking directly at me now, then down at his whip-creamed chest, looking at the whipped cream as if it was unreachable. "I don't think I can reach-"

I leaned forward, pushing my weight against my dad's, and dropping my head to his chest, and sticking out my tongue. Dragging it slowly around one of his pecs, I reached around his body and brought his back in, so that his chest came closer and closer to me. His skin felt amazing and silky smooth against my fingers, and his chest was hairless, muscular, and warm against my lips. My tongue explored more and more of his pectoral until it was done slowly lapping up the nipple and got to the whipped cream that was slowly dripping down my own father's chest. My fingertips dropped down to his waist, where I was looking for his underwear waistband, but only got a handful of meaty ass and a thin v-line.

The fridge shut and my dad had his hand on the front of the door. "That was fucking hot."

"Dad, you're naked," I said, clearing my throat.

"Huh? Oh yeah, seems that way, doesn't it," he grumbled, setting his hands on his waist.

"Um, yeah," I replied, only slightly distracted when he arched his back and pushed his hips toward me.

"Well, champ, g'night." he told me.

"What about these?" I inquired, holding up his underwear with one of my fingers.

"I guess you could count those as a welcome home present," he smirked, biting his lip, "And we don't have any blankets."

"It's not that co-"

"Your tits say different."

I opened my mouth to testify, but realized that I really was cold, and my dad was right, my nipples were perky and erect. Then my eyes wandered over to the couch, which was looking like it would be as cold as an ice cube, then to my dad, who was almost at his room, where he would be sleeping in a warm place. Sleeping inside a bed started to sound amazing, so my feet carried me over the carpet to the doorway of my father's bedroom. He was on his side, facing the center of the bed and away from me.

"Room for one more?" I asked.

The sheets practically flew open once I had asked the question. From where I was, I could see my dad's bare ass, and his arms spread in front of him. I pushed my undergarment down to my ankles and stepped out of them so I could creep around the bed and under the covers. The sheets and duvet encased my whole body and the arms of my stark naked father pulled me against him, so that he was spooning me. His thick, muscled chest pressed against my back, and his legs entwined around mine. My ass felt warm, which told me that his fat, flaccid, dick and his huge, round, balls were all pressing against my buttcheeks.

"Hey, champ," he murmured into my ear, running the back of his thumb down my spine, "I see you decided to join your old man."

"What's with the spooning?"

"It's cold."

"But you're naked."

"I think you forget we used to take baths together."

"When I was like four."


"I know, we did it a few times a few years ago, when finance got bad."

"Yeah, and remember that one time during camping-"

"Yes dad, I remember!" I said quickly.

Then I thought about the picture in my wallet, and the vague memories that went along with it. Thoughts and memories in the past. The picture of me when I was four, standing upper-shin deep in the bathtub, in red rain boots otherwise naked, facing my dad. He was also in the bathtub, and fully naked. It was when he had a chest with well-groomed hair and his legs still had a soft layer of hair, but just enough. He didn't have as many muscles, but still had his six pack and pectorals. He was facing me, smiling with a slightly stubbly shin and his eyes were shining their regular silvery blue. He had his hands on my little waist, as if about to pick me up. I remembered how I laughed and giggled.

More memories of when I was young started to stir. I remembered when he used to bring me into the bathroom with him and make me stand next to him at the urinals. When he whipped out his thick, meaty, cock and would release his urine. How curious I was about how fat and actually strong it was, and how his face twisted in pleasure and relaxation when he let go. Remembered the notes I would make in my mind on the position he took when he peed, and I would try and mimic them to be more like him. l'd usually My curiosity usually got the best of me I realized, when he would start shaking the piss off the tip of his prick, and my little hands would reach out and take hold of it. His eyes would usually brighten, and he would chuckle for a little bit of time, until finally he would pull my fingers off his meat rod. But once or twice, he would usually just set his hands on his waist and he would lean forward, letting me make observations about his juicy fuckstick.

Realizing what my dad was getting at, he was realizing how comfortable we were with each others nudity. The next set of bathtub memories was twelve years after the first set of memories, and I could distinctly remember those. I was sixteen, almost seventeen, and still living with my dad. It was a time when he had gotten a new job, and it wasn't paying much, so we couldn't afford much of the water bill, and we had to bathe at the same time. We had to bathe since we couldn't waste any water in a shower.

There was a limited amount of space in the tub, so my dad would usually lay in the water, with his legs spread, and beckon me in to lay in the water with him. He was fully waxed at the age he was at now, and had no hair on his chest, legs, arms, and even his treasure trail was gone, leaving only a patch of pubic hair right above his dick. Reluctantly, I would pull my boxers and pants down to my ankles and step out of them and peel my shirt off my torso. His eyes would glint and sparkle in confidence and comfortability, and his arms would open in welcome.

Unsettling, it usually was for me, until my feet would sink down into the water, and burn with the feeling of the blood rushing to my feet. The feeling of heat traveled in waves up my calves, thighs, waist, and torso. Relaxing my body, letting me succumb to the water, and slowly laying me down on top of the pile of thick, hard, muscle that waited at the bottom. The man in the tub would take the washcloth and slowly scrub it down my back, cleaning me of all the dirt on my back, but also my shame as I got more comfortable with him touching me and me returning the favor. I remember the next few minutes that went by in soft sighs, water, soap, and raging lust.

My dad's right hand set his hand on my back under the sheets and skimmed down my back. His breath was hot against the back of my neck, and it brushed against the sides of my head and around my ears. I hadn't even noticed, but somewhere during my sexual sabbatical, I had become drowsy, and my eyes were drooping. I was slowly falling as


My dad quickly rolled off of me and sat up.


Windows were being broken, and we could hear the clinking of various metals outside the door. Next to the bed, my dad kept a metal baseball bat, which he picked up, carefully.

The door burst open. Two men, both dressed in black, walked in. One man was tall and skinny. The other man was quite fit and average height. The taller one held a revolver, and had it aimed directly at me.

"Drop the bat and kick it over, or the boy gets it," The shorter man told my dad, who did as instructed.

"Where do you keep your money?" The taller man asked.

"I'll bring it to you. Just don't hurt my dad," I begged, getting out of bed.

The tall man looked at me and nodded towards the door. Then did the same thing to his accomplice.

I walked slowly out of the room, followed by the man, and turned my head back at the doorway. He pushed me forward and shut the door to muffle the shouts from my father. I was pushed and nudged more and more through the house, pointing forward, acting as a sort of compass, and led the man into our living room. His eyebrows raised when I stopped, but his eyes follow my pointed finger when I pointed in one general direction of the room. He walked in that direction, following my direct finger, until he suddenly stiffened when he saw what I was pointing to. It was a wall. He knew something was up.

"You punkin' me?" He growled, and reached over to the fireplace to pick up the firepoker.

I didn't answer him when he took it away from leaning against the wall. I didn't answer when he opointed it at me threateningly. I didn't answer when he realized I wasn't scared. I didn't answer when he finally swung. I didn't answer when the fire poker made contact with my knee, and my face cringed in pain, and I fell to the floor, but I still didn't make a sound. The man slowly walked over to me, and stood over my body, raising the fire poker over his head with both hands.

Then suddenly his face turned from pure twisted hatred to nonchalant and expressionless. His head was turned sideways, unnaturally, and his neck was pointed slightly outward. It came over me that his neck was snapped, and there must've been somebody behind him. From the dark silhouette, I saw short dark hair, and beautiful hands.


"Ugh, did that guy hurt you?"

"Um, yeah, my knee."

"One second," he said, and then put his mouth to his wrist, and there was a popping noise. "Drink this."

He put his bleeding wrist to my mouth, and I opened my lips to drink in his life force. The tingling feeling I had felt earlier that day when I was showering came back, but this time my knee was tingling. There was a first crack I heard, and a slight pinching feeling. The second crack was louder, but hurt less. I looked down at my once-bruised knee, and then pulled back from Ted's wrist.

"Teddy why are you here?"

"You forgot your number in my car," he said, holding up a piece of paper, "why are you naked?"

"I was sleeping."

"Oh, well then I'll go."

"W-" I started, but he was gone. In a flash.

I turned back to the bedroom door and violently pushed it open, ready to jump at the tall man. He was in the corner though, and was using my dad as a bodyshield, and aiming his gun at me. He shot once, but missed, and four more times, also missing. He had one more shot left, and everyone in the room knew it. My dad was silent, mostly because the hold around his throat was tight and restricting, but also because he was just scared. The man's sweat was glistening in the moon's light, and his hand with the gun was slightly shaking. Then, he pulled the trigger one last time.

I felt my chest jolt back, my throat swelled with blood. My vision blurred and dimmed. The last few things I saw were my dad, pushing off the man and pounding him to the ground, and then black. I saw lots of things after that. My favorite memories of when I was a baby, and when I would hold my dad's cock, or when I would walk around the bathtub and sit in his naked lap. I remembered when we went camping once, and we were nude the whole time, while skinny-dipping, sitting at the fire roasting marshmallow's with our legs spread and our schlongs hanging out, or when we would share a sleeping bag, and he would joke about us being a gay couple, and pretending he would dry hump me, and pretend to fuck me.

I remembered Mr. Philpot, Ted, Micah, and Daniel. When I saw Mr. Philpot for the first time at a strip club on my eighteenth birthday and he gave me a lapdance. When we would talk together in the showers at school, and he would slap my ass and tell me he thought I was attractive. I remembered getting Ted and Mr. Philpot's dance, and having Ted hump my until I orgasmed. I remembered talking with Micah on the roof of the building he lived in, and when Mr. Philpot and I told him about our little club.

Then all the memories scattered, and there was a light, which seemed to get closer and closer aden finally engulfed my whole vision until-

I felt my jaw hurt, and my eyeteeth grow into fangs. My undereyes felt different.

My eyes opened again, and the first thing I noticed was my aura.

It was black, and had a little bit of red in some parts.

(I'll do vol. 2 in a little while.)




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