A disclaimer from the author: This story is a work of fiction and contains themes that some readers might find difficult to read about, including: incest, a man with a vagina, male pregnancy, and themes involving dominance and submission. Any resemblance to real persons and events is purely coincidental. Please consider your tastes and comfort levels and show discretion before reading or commenting on this work.
Positive and/or constructive comments are always appreciated at: [email protected]
I.
Robert McManus sat on the rickety swivel chair at his desk, minutely rocking forward and back, as he took occasional tiny sips of stale coffee from a well-used but well-loved mug. Angling the rim so his chapped lips would avoid an old chip in the ceramic, he hummed to himself, appreciating the momentary distraction. He was immensely jittery in a way that had nothing to do with the caffeine flowing through his system.
He had protested at first when Lilian had mentioned taking an early, and long, lunch. He had given the easiest, most standard excuses he could pull out of his ass on such short notice, but like a better trained wizard, she had a counterspell for every bumbling attempt at capture.
“Robert, we both know you boys need your privacy,” she said sagely. “I got a feeling things might get a little heated before you two bury the hatchet.” Talk about understatement of the year. He grumbled an unintelligible comeback under his breath, keeping his head arched facing the far wall, so he could at least deny her the sight of the apprehension on his face.
“Lil, you really don’t gotta…” he started, but let the plea die out on his tongue. He already knew he was wasting his breath. Lilian Cavanaugh had made up her mind long before she stated her intent to the bossman McManus, and by the twinkle in his secretary’s eye, she had already made some definite plans on how to fill her time away from the office.
“Save your breath, Robert!” she said, fiddling with the straps of her designer knockoff purse. “You’re going to need all the air you can get if you want to out-argue, Earl Fallon.” Purse on her arm, car keys in her dominant hand, she was a woman ready to march out of Jeffries Construction and straight into a Macy’s Backstage.
Lilian gave Rob a brief, sympathetic smile, and a cherry thumbs up that he guessed was supposed to mean good luck? He watched, wordlessly, as the door slammed shut behind her, and a few moments later heard the gentle rumbling of a car wheeling its way out of the parking lot. Rob slumped back in his chair, letting the sigh of defeat finally slip from his lips. He absentmindedly rubbed on his irritated pec, one of the more annoying symptoms of his pregnancy, before rising to his feet to fetch some coffee.
It wasn’t so much the fight he was going to have with Earl that bothered him, and it was going to be a fight, he was sure of it. He and Earl were long overdue for a no-holds barred, come-to-Jesus throw down. No, it was the waiting. Every minute was like a slow, poisonous drip on the most anxious parts of his brain, and he could feel the negative thoughts spreading through his mind like a black mold growing on damp siding. It was a torturous relief when he heard Earl Fallon’s truck park noisily outside the trailer, like pulling a sprinter out of the sole of your foot.
Earl Fallon didn’t so much enter the office as charge into it like a bull chasing a Spaniard. His eyes swarmed around the room, irritation buzzing in the speckled gold of his irises.
“Alright, Lilian, why th-” he stopped, face actually going pale when his eyes settled on Robert sitting at Lilian’s desk. Rob took one last sip from his cup, a tiny moment of calm, before setting the object down on a coaster.
“Sorry, Earl,” he murmured, not feeling sorry at all. “You’ve been had.”
Earl’s eyes widened for a second, as his brain took the time to catch up with Rob’s words. Then, like a flash of lightening, he punched the side of the trailer wall, hissing in pain as his bare knuckles rapped against the old wood. Rob rose to his feet then, nerves finding a target for all of that pent up energy. It was one thing to take his frustrations out on him, it was quite another to take them out on the beatdown property they were still making payments on.
“You better sit down and calm your ass right now, Earl Fallon,” he said, in full boss mode. “Or you and I are going to have a real problem.” The look Earl shot him was venomous, a snake that was cornered and knew it. Robert could tell he wanted to put up more of a fight, Earl’s lankier form always got a little squiggly when he was looking for trouble, but he was pleasantly surprised when the better side of the Fallon genepool took control and ushered Earl to a beat up office chair situated in the corner, farthest from Rob. He didn’t so much sit in the chair as collapse onto it with a childish huff.
“You all done now?” Rob muttered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Are you ready to act like an adult? Or do I need to go fetch your pacifier?” If looks could kill Robert McManus would have dropped dead on the spot, fell 6 feet straight through the ground, and coughed up his death certificate. Earl sat up a little straighter, having mustered up a new emotion to fill the place of his anger: stubborn pride. He folded his arms across his raised chest, apparently ready for his lecture.
“Good,” Robert gingerly sat back down in Lil’s chair, feeling a bit like a Queen overseeing an unruly subject. Unfortunately, this particular subordinate had the goods to force an abdication if he felt it necessary. That didn’t mean Rob would go down without a fight though. “So…I think you and I got some things to talk about, don’t you?” Earl gave no response, just eyed his boss sulkily across the room.
There was a long, awkward pause, as Robert dug around in his brain for the next words and came up embarrassingly short. A full minute passed as Rob continued to avoid the gaze of his co-worker, knowing all too well that he might crumble under the scrutinizing stare of his maybe-best friend. Earl stared at him for a moment, waiting, before reality sunk in. A cockeyed grin spread across his face and he began to loudly clap, the smacking sound echoing in the small interior.
“That was a mighty fine speech you gave there, Robert,” Earl said, grinning like a fool. “You sure showed me, fella.” Now his face turned dark and serious, but beneath that anger Robert could detect something new, something confusing and volatile. Rob didn’t know what to make of Earl Fallon’s moods half the time anyways, but nonetheless, this new energy from Earl had him on his toes. He switched targets, aiming for the other man’s ego, a fisherman trying to rope in the easiest catch.
“Alright, alright, you made your point,” he mumbled, still feeling a little put out, but he recovered quickly. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the scratched desktop. “This isn’t an easy thing to talk about, Earl.” Earl gawked at him as if he was the stupidest person on the planet.
“Really, Rob. You’re getting dicked down by your own boy and you say it ain’t easy to talk about,” he said, faux confused and meanspirited. “I just don’t understand that at all, no sirree. It’s sounds like it would be just as easy for you to talk about it, as it is to open your legs for it, right?” Now it was Rob’s time to turn black as coal.
“Listen here, Earl Fallon, and you listen good,” he said, loud, clear, and slow. “I won’t tolerate you talking about me, or my boy, that way. Do you understand me?” He saw Earl’s eyes flash vindictively and his mouth begin to open, but Rob cut him off at the knees. “Do you understand me!? You better say yes and fast, or so help me god I’ll break your goddamn jaw.”
That did the trick. Earl’s mouth gaped, a big bass realizing he had been stuck on the trophy wall. He looked like he was about to say something really damn stupid, when self-preservation kicked back in and saved him for another day. He slumped back down in the chair, a sour expression on his face, and nodded curtly. Rob cleared his throat, and resisted the urge to crack his knuckles, his surefire “I’m about to get to business” giveaway. He looked directly into Earl’s eyes, pinpricks of steel.
“I heard you called up, Jake,” he said, pointedly. “I heard you and he had a real interesting conversation. It sounded like your revealed all kinds of secrets to him.” He made a show of pawing at his beard, like he was trying to pull a memory from his head. “I seem to recall someone, someone sitting in a room awful similar to this one, making a promise not to say anything to Jake.”
The look of guilt that flashed across Earl’s face was almost worth the trouble he had to put up with the last few weeks. Earl didn’t, couldn’t, look him in the eyes, a true rarity for the typically outspoken man. Rob almost felt sorry him, but it was going to take a lot more than pity to fix the puncture in their friendship. Instead, he decided to keep grilling, but lowered the heat on his old friend. Just a tad.
“Go on,” he commanded, gently. “Tell me why you did it.” Earl said nothing for a moment, seemingly trying to collect his thoughts into a usable form. His fingernails, grimy from the jobsite, dug like talons into the arms of his chair. When the words came out, a jumbled package of weary excuses and genuine concern, Rob had to fight to keep his cool.
“Rob, it ain’t right to keep a man from his son,” Earl said, no pleaded. “You can’t do that to a boy, especially him.” Robert raised an eyebrow at that, suddenly concerned about Earl’s sudden interest in Jacob’s supposed well being. Earl had been close to Jake throughout his son’s life, no doubt about that, but not that close.
“And why exactly is what goes on between me and Jake any of your damn business, Earl,” Rob said, fighting to keep the annoyance at the other man from bubbling up into self-righteous anger. “You crossed the line, Earl Fallon. You know you did.” He knew he was right, and when Earl turned his anger onto words, brandishing them to fight off Robert’s legitimate concerns Rob was more than ready to ward them off.
“You’re not the only one that cares about that boy, Rob,” Earl said, his voice sounding like a high whine to Robert’s ears. “Jake’s always been like a son to me.” That did it, Rob wheeled on his old friend like a bat out of hell.
“Jake’s not your son, Earl,” he snapped. “Get that through your thick head. He’s my son. My son.” Rob bristled, the energy of his anger started to take its toll on him. “You went too far, friend. To far, by a god damn mile.” The last words came out low, almost weak, like the fight was draining from Rob. He could tell that Earl was experiencing something similar even from the other end of the room.
“I’m sorry, alright! I’m sorry! I fucked up!” Earl shouted at him, jumping to his feet and pacing noisily across the room. He seemed to be struggling to contain what looked to be some awfully complicated emotions in his lanky, aged frame. “I know he’s not my boy,” he continued, something approaching sorrow in his words. “But he’s the closest damn thing I’ll ever get to one. I can’t just turn that off, Rob, I can’t.”
Robert regarded his old friend for a moment, suddenly feeling a little guilty for running him so hard. He hadn’t exactly been a saint himself throughout this entire mess, and besides...he kind of got what he really wanted in the end. He coughed, cleared his throat, then delivered the verdict.
“Well, I suppose it’s the least I can do,” he mumbled, and turned to the side when Earl gave him a questioning look. “You see, uh, Jake’s moving back home.” He was glad he couldn’t see the look on Earl’s face. “He and I are trying to make a thing of it.”
There was a long moment of silence, so quiet you could hear a pin drop, then Earl exploded.
“Are you fucking kidding me!?” he bellowed. “You’ve been dragging me through the coals like I fucked up your relationship with your boy and now you’re telling me you’ve been playing house this whole damn time!?” To Rob’s credit, he had the dignity to look aghast at his own behavior, and took the slams on the chin. “You should be kissing my damn feet, Robert McManus!” At that Rob turned back to his old friend, taking the reins of this runaway horse.
“Alright, that’s enough!” he says, stopping the tirade. “We both made mistakes. Can we at least agree on that?” Earl nodded along easily enough, so Rob continued. “We gotta move forward somehow Earl. We can’t keep going in circles like this or we’re going to break.” To his surprise, Earl didn’t bite his head off. He nodded along as if Rob is saying the first smart thing in a long time, something approaching reason in his eyes, so Rob decided to make his case.
“Earl,” he starts, putting gravity into his words. “We need you, Earl. Jake and I.” He admitted to Earl’s surprise. “I don’t know if we can do this without you.” He expected something sharp from his old friend. He was asking for the barbed whip with his recent behavior and was almost shocked when the other man agreed with him.
“Ok.” Rob stared, not believing his ears.
“Ok?” he asked, shocked, clearly expecting something more substantial. Earl just shook his head at him.
“What do you want me to say, Rob?” he asked, sounding tired. “That I’m ok with everything that is happening. No, I’m not. This is insane. I’m Alice trapped in fucking Wonderland,” He rubbed his face, as if warding off some deep seeded confusion. “But I can’t walk away from you two,” he admitted, his voice calmer now. “You might not like it, but I love that boy something awful, and I...I love you,” a brief look of horror swamped his features then, and he quickly added, “Like a brother.”
Rob said nothing to this rant, just let it sink in. There was something going on with Earl Fallon, he now realized. Something deeper than plain old fashioned values and familial concern, but he couldn’t quite stick his finger on it. Or, if he was truly being honest with himself, he couldn’t quite make himself believe the possibility that was standing there smacking him in the face.
“Well,” he began, sitting back down at the desk. “As long as you can learn to be ok with it…” Earl laughed at that, like Rob just told the funniest joke in the world.
“Brother, that’s a tall order, even for me,” he said between wheezes. “But that’s the fucking joke. I don’t have a choice. No fucking choice!” It was true too. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that if he didn’t play along with the incestous McManus affair, that they would cut him out of their lives like a wart growing on a toe. He wouldn’t have that, couldn’t have that. So it was time to play nice and play by the McManus family rules. He turned back to Rob, calmer now.
“I’m in, friend. Don’t know how, but I’m on this ride until the wheels come off.”
-----
II.
Jacob McManus was trapped in his own kind of waiting game. He had arrived back at his dad’s house, no correction, their house, much earlier than he had anticipated. It turned out bailing on college was be a lot faster and simpler than getting in. Soon enough, he was back on the road, charging away from the future he might have had, trunk and backseats bulging with boxes and cases full of his limited life’s belongings. He had hoped to arrive sometime when his dad was back home from work, the image of his dad opening the door, taking his luggage and pulling him inside for the full welcome home treatment burned in his mind.
He was a little disappointed then to have arrived in the old burg hours before Robert could ever get away from the construction site, and he watched the dream he fantasized about the entire drive get dashed across the rocks. Given that he would be coming home to an empty house, he had expected to find the driveway empty, void of any sign of life, so he was surprised, almost dismayed, to discover an unknown car parked in the guest spot. My spot, he thought territorially.
The poor babysitter nearly had a heartattack when he had walked into the house like he owned the place. It had taken far more cajoling to settle her down than he would have liked. She was like a skittish deer ready to bolt for the phone and dial the police at the first opportunity. It was only after he had pointed out the numerous pictures of himself strewn throughout the house and agreed to step back outside into his car while she verified his identity with his dad that she settled down a bit.
About 5 minutes later she had stepped outside onto the porch, waving him inside with an embarrassed look on her face on her spray tanned face.
“Sorry about that,” she had said, shyly, brushing a stray brunette hair from her face “You can’t ever be too careful, right?”
Jake nodded at her comment, agreeing, but also more than a little perturbed. The man of the house didn’t like being ordered around. Still, she was trying to protect his little bro, so she couldn’t be all that bad. He gave her a reassuring smile, which she returned gratefully.
“No harm done,” he said, quietly, and watched as her smile, less shy than before, lit up a bit at his words, showing more teeth. They talked for a few minutes, just passing the time on Jake’s end, but as the conversation continued, he could feel her stature begin to mellow and dip. Her look had morphed from nervous into something dangerously approaching interest. The old pre-blowout, Jake, would have been thrilled by this development, but now all he could muster was minor irritation. Girl, you’re just wasting your time. He coughed, clearing his throat.
“Uh, since I’m here now, you can head on home if you want,” he said, and she gave him a peeved look, but then course corrected with a smile.
“Oh I can’t do that,” she said, all sugar and spice with something extra nice just for Jake if he wanted a taste. “Mr. McManus has paid me for another 3 hours…” Jake stifled a groan, annoyed more than ever that she wasn’t taking the hint to beat it, so he instead went for a more firm approach.
“Well, I’m the other Mr. McManus, and I’m saying you can go,” he said, perhaps a bit harsher than he had intended by the expression on her face. He softened his own expression, hoping it came across as kind and empathetic and not moody and petulant. “Don’t worry, I know how to take care of him and you’ll get your full wages. It’s no trouble. Really, I insist.”
He ignored the look of profound disappointment she gave him as she began to pack up her things. It was better this way. She should get out before she feel in too deep. Just ask the other Mr. McManus. When the door slammed closed behind her, he finally sat down on the couch, sinking into the plush brown cushion, kicked off his shoes, and stretched his legs. Alone at last.
He turned on the TV, finding it fixed on ESPN just as it should be. Listening to the sportscasters argue about a recent trade in the background, Jake stood up, suddenly remembering the house’s other occupant, and walked down the hall toward Caleb’s room, a king surveying his territory. Poking his head past the door, he caught a peek of little Caleb nestled on top of a blanket in his crib, snug as a bug. He sneaked over as quietly as he could, grateful to not be wearing his sneakers, and praying he didn’t accidentally wake the sometimes jumpy infant. The last thing he or the neighbors needed was a McManus baby screaming fit.
But, true to his goodnatured disposition, Caleb just slept without missing a beat. Jake looked down at his brother, affection for the little bundle filling his heart. He rested his chin on the edge of the crib, lips pursed, as he watched baby brother take his tiny breaths.
“It’s good to see you again, little bro,” he whispered. “Better enjoy this quiet while you can because you’re going to have your own little bro not too long from now.” The thought made Jake smile and his heart skipped a beat. Deep down, he knew he should be scared shitless at being a father, especially given the unique circumstances, but he couldn’t help but feel anything but excitement. Smiling at the craziness of it all, he focused back in on his brother’s tiny form.
“I’m counting on you to be a good big bro when the time comes, ok?” he said, resisting the urge to pinch a cheek. A thought came into his head then. Caleb wasn’t just going to be a big brother, he was going to be an uncle too. He shook his head, shaking the confusing thought from his mind. Way too weird to try and think about right now. One day he and Rob were going to have to have a long and very confusing conversation about their mixed up family tree with the young ones, but that day was not today.
Deciding not to tempt fate any longer, he sneaked back out of the bedroom, only breathing a sigh of relief when he walked past the hallway and entered the kitchen. He felt a little like a man who had just walked through a minefield and lived to tell the tale. Guess I better get used to it, he thought to himself, somewhat warily, This is what life is going to look like from now on. He felt a momentary stab of panic at the thought, a part of him that craved freedom and untethered individuality balking at the idea. He stomped those complaints down right quick. All he needed to do was imagine him and his dad together, partners for life raising their boy together, and he began to feel right as rain in no time.
The next few hours passed in a blur of excitable announcers and footballs sailing in graceful arcs through the air on the big screen. He tried to enjoy the game, even if his team was losing, but his heart wasn’t in it. It was all pixelated color and static noise. The thing he wanted just wasn’t here. His mind was no better, his thoughts drifting not toward the stadium on the screen but to the memory of a dusty jobsite and an old battered trailer that had seen better days.
When he heard the rumble of a truck outside, and the telltale jangling of keys in the front door, he almost bolted out of his place on the couch. During the long wait, he had begun to drift off on the couch and had entered a kind of fugue state. Now, the thought of his dad finally coming home and the pair of them finally starting this big adventure together galvanized him. When Rob stepped out of the opening and into the living room, looking tired and sweaty and dusty and perfect, Jake pounced like a tiger in heat.
His dad’s arms naturally came up to ward off the attack, but Jake was too fast and his old man was too slow by a mile. In a matter of seconds he had pinned his father’s bulky mass against the wall, knocking the air out of Rob’s lungs. His mouth found his dad’s neckline instantly, teeth scrapping against flesh that tastes of gravely dirt and stale sweat. His dad tasted like a man. All man. Rob, still recovering, tried to voice an objection, but Jake ignored him. This was an old pattern, an old game the pair liked to play, and Jake always won out in the end. Always.
When his hand, shaking with excitement, began to snake down into the front of Rob’s pants, his dad tried again, the words getting cut off when Jake’s tongue slipped into his open mouth. His fingers found their target, riding the grooves of Rob’s pussy lips, the slick feeling familiar and comforting on his exploring digits. One of those fingers began to push inside the wet flesh when Rob managed to pry his face away just long enough to shout out a warning.
“Jake, stop! I’m not alone!”
Jake froze, staring at his dad in confusion, fingertip still lodged on his dad’s puss. He watched as Rob’s head turned nervously towards the front door, and slowly matching the same motion, Jake understood what his dad had been trying to warn him about since the first moment he set foot in the house.
Standing on the landing, tall and pale-faced, was Earl Fallon. The usually unflappable man looked like he had seen a ghost. Jake yanked his hand off his dad’s cunt, drawing a surprised hiss from the older man. He instinctively straightened himself out, bizarrely trying to make himself more presentable, despite the inexcusable circumstance. How could he possibly recover from something like that? He gave Earl his best winning smile.
“Uncle Earl!” he said, the excitement in his voice not quite reaching his eyes. “I didn’t see you there.” Earl Fallon said nothing, just stared eyes unblinking, like he was meeting a stranger for the first time. Inside both McManus men winced. Earl’s first in-person exposure to their new relationship sure could have gone a hell of a lot better. Jake stepped toward Earl then, cutting the distance between them and seeking to settle the jumpy looking man. For a second, he thought Earl was actually going to bolt down the street, and the sheer thought of it filled him with mortification.
But drawing from some reserve of stubbornness, Earl Fallon stood his ground, and jerkily raised a hand toward Jake, almost recoiling when Jake’s hand, the very one that had just been inside his dad’s cunt closed over his and pulled him into a tight hug. Trapped in the younger man’s embrace, Earl looked over Jake’s shoulder at Rob, shooting daggers at his best friend.
When Jake finally released his uncle, Earl had managed to compose himself enough not to run screaming in the night. He had expected to see something between the McManus men at some point, something small, maybe their hands grazing or a shy kiss, but never in a million years had he expected to see Jake manhandling his own father that way. Rob’s position in this erotic farce suddenly become a lot more understandable. This was no innocent boy being lead astray, that was for damn sure.
“No harm done,” he mumbled to Jake, hating how he couldn’t hold his gaze on the younger man’s eyes without glancing away from time to time. Can’t believe I’m acting like some shrinking violet, Earl thought furiously to himself. Now that Earl had responded more positively, some of Jake’s old self came back, and with it the cocky confidence that got him in so much trouble. He gave Earl a knowing smirk, ready to take his place as the head of the household.
“Thanks for telling me the truth, Uncle Earl,” he whispered to the stricken man. “Dad and I are better than ever cuz of you.” Earl’s mouth sunk to a fine line, disliking the unspoken implications, but what was done was done. He had told Rob he would try and be supportive and he wasn’t going to back away from his word again so soon.
“Well, I’m glad you two are getting along,” he muttered, rubbing on an arm absentmindedly. His eyes darted between the two McManus men, feeling the unspoken static building happening between them, and he knew it was time to make his retreat. “I better get out of your guys’ hair,” he said quickly, backing out of the door. From across the room, Rob gave him a worried look.
“You don’t gotta go so soon,” Rob started to say, but Earl shook his head, his eyes widening at the smarmy look on Jake’s face. No, he needed to go right now.
“I think you boys need your private time,” he managed to choke out, and watched as Jake gave him a sneaky grin as he began to close the door.
“Bye, Uncle Earl,” Jake said, as the door slammed behind the retreating man. Earl walked in a daze to the truck, still trying to process exactly what he saw. He had watched with his own eyes as Jacob McManus captured his own father and trapped him in his orbit, the pair moving together in a way that felt sickeningly natural. It made sense in all of the wrong ways, and shaking the sinful images from his head, he hastened his retreat.
Once he was safely secured in his seat, he started the engine, his hands instinctively coming to 10 and 2 on the steering wheel. He tensed as his eyes fell upon his right hand, that one that had touched Jake’s. The hand that had touched Rob’s- Before he could stop himself he brought his fingers to his nostrils and closing his eyes, took a deep whiff. He thought he could smell it, just barely. A faint masculine scent of sweat mixed with a tang that was unmistakably cunt, but he knew his mind was probably imagining things.
Forcing his eyes on the road and away from the McManus house, nearly shaking at the effort, he willed his traitorous erection to settle down, as he pulled out of the driveway. He tried, and failed, not to think about what Jake McManus was doing to his own father behind that closed door.
-----
III.
Robert McManus was in a special kind of hell, one completely of his own making, both literally and figuratively. He was slumped across the sofa, his sweat-slickened back sticking to the abused leather cushions, a now familiar occurrence in the McManus household. Between his legs was the source of all his troubles and tribulations. Jacob McManus, face wet with his father’s juices, continued to lick at his father’s sensitive flesh at a ravenous pace that would make a cannibal drool with envy. Rob, hairy chest heaving, instinctively tried to close his legs against the oral onslaught, but his son was having none of it.
“Jakkkke…” he whined, voice weak from what felt like hours of cries of passion. Robert had lost track of how long they had been going at it. The front door had barely closed, before Jake pounced on his dad, knocking the old man to the floor and tearing at his clothes with a ferocity that should have angered him, but had only poured gasoline on the fire in his loins.
When Jake had told him his plan, to make his old man go crazy with lust, or rather declared it into being, Rob had thought he was just joking or exaggerating. His oldest had always had a wild imagination, especially when it had come to sex. As much as a part of him wanted to balk at how Jacob manhandled him, he couldn’t bring himself to voice any true protest. He had begun to accept the truth about himself after all this time. Robert McManus may have been all man in the majority of the ways of the world, but when it came to sex, he liked the feel of a firm hand dictating his pleasure.
The first orgasm had been a joy, his cunt pulsing around his son’s exploring fingers. As Jake continued to stroke him, Rob had leaned into the pleasure, certain that his son would coax at least another orgasm out of him before he had his fill. Jake’s thinner, toned, nearly hairless arms did their work, and sure enough, it wasn’t long before he was spending himself on those young digits again, the sounds of his cunt becoming wetter by the minute. When Jake hadn’t stopped, Rob shivered, wondering when the inevitable would happen and his son would sheath himself where he belonged.
By the time the 5th orgasm was torn from his electrified body, Rob was convinced his oldest was intent on sending him to an early grave. His genitals, swollen and heated by all the stimulation had crossed the line from purely pleasurable to a kind of over-sensitized pain/pleasure that was slowly driving the older man up the wall. Jake’s agile tongue, a new torture device added after the 4th gush of his father’s juices, had upped the ante, providing gentler, conflicting sensations that confused Rob’s prickly nerve endings.
“Jake…” he tried again, still weak. “I need you, son.” This was a new tactic, one designed to turn this slow teasing death into a quick battering one. It wasn’t going to work, not really. Jake was too smart for his tricks, but it might encourage his son to finish him off faster. Shape the torture into a humane execution. He brought his fingers down to his clit, throbbing from the tongue and fingers and prickly beard hair that had rubbed it raw. He took it between his fingers and pinched gently, causing just the barest hint of pain, enough to make him tremble. The show needed to feel real.
“Dad needs you to use him, son…” he sighed, letting himself drool. “He needs you to wreck his cunt.”
The words, which would have been unthinkable for him to utter mere weeks ago, slid off his tongue, swallowed not by any barrier but the rasping of an overused throat. He felt Jake’s reaction before he saw it. A snort of hot air into his pussy, a jittering of that lustful tongue. Jake might be able to hide his passions and his needs better than his dad, but at the end of the day, he was a McManus man just like Rob was. They were built to fuck. To breed and be bred.
When Jake raised his eyes, face wet with cunt juice, there was a new fire in his eyes that he had come to recognize as his “I’m going to ruin you face”. Jake licked his lips, tasting his dad’s pussy and hungry for more. His eyes narrowed as he looked down, hard and possessive, at his father. One hand cups a breast, squeezing the tit hard enough to make Rob want to gasp.
“Prove it,” he challenged, eyes ablaze. “Make yourself cum. And do it hard.” The way his boy said those words so authoritatively forced a shiver of fearful pleasure to shoot up Rob’s spine like a current of electricity. His fingers, already touching his clit, went back to work, frigging his sensitive nob with an intensity that made his eyes water. He needed more to impress his boy, and his free hand, shaking like a leaf caught in an autumn breeze, plunged into his sopping hole, four fingers driving in with no regard for his immediate comfort. He could almost touch it, the tips of his fingers straining at the angle to tap on his P spot, but only managing to graze the area, again and again, driving Rob up the wall. He was beginning to shake from the effort, gritting his teeth like a man on the edge.
“Jake,” he pleaded, so close and yet so far. He needed more. His fingers weren’t enough to finish the job. A fat tear escaped from his eye and began its trail down his cheek. “Please.” Jake looked down at him, an inscrutable expression on its face. As if he was examining something proprietary and assessing its worth. Jake began to lean over, and Rob’s heart felt fit to jump out of his chest. To Rob’s surprise, and dismay, his son bypassed his cunt completely, angling higher, his face pointed directly at Rob’s straining mug. He can smell his son’s breath, a tangy mixture of sugar, yeast, and his son’s unique scent. A second tear joined its cousin, drawing its own path on the other side of Rob’s face.
“I should have just done it,” Jake murmured, low, almost menacingly. “I should have taken what belonged to me the first second you walked through that door.” Rob’s eyes widened as he understood now what his son is referring to. “I should have fucked you right against that wall. Let Uncle Earl watch and see what you really are. Let him see what it looks like to see his boss’ cunt get used by a real man.”
The image was a suckerpunch that imprinted itself straight into Rob’s imagination. He saw himself, pants and underwear ripped, one leg raised while his oldest son skillfully claimed his front hole, filling the entryway with the obscene sounds of masculine cries and wet cunt. He would glance to the side, terrified of what he would see, but like a bad dream, unable to stop himself. Earl would be staring at him, horrified and transfixed. The expression on his face was complicated and monstrous. Anger, fear, disgust...and arousal.
Rob’s eyes bulged. He felt something shatter inside for a moment, and his cunt gushed, a broken glass spilling the last of its contents onto the floor. He can faintly hear a ragged cry over the ringing in his ears and it took him a moment to realize it was him. It doesn’t matter though. It wasn’t the first time he had cried like that and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last. He let his hands fall limply off his body. The deed was done.
From his position on the edge of the couch, he saw Jake move out of the corner of his eyes, leaning back and positioning himself. He closed his eyes, willing his weary body to relax and accept. He doesn’t need to see what is coming next. His body understand the signs completely. When Jake slid inside his pussy there was only the barest hint of pain, more from physical exhaustion than anything else. He was so wet he felt like he might never need lubrication again. Jake seated himself to the hilt easy enough, as simple as parking a car in a favorite spot. His oldest wasted no time, tilting Rob’s leg upward and fucking with quick, shallow plunges, seeking his own nut now.
The force of the thrusts and the exhaustion combined hit Rob hard and he began to slump off the couch, like a lifeless doll. Jake made no move to rescue his father, only holding onto a hip and thigh to steady the bulkier man enough to support his own pleasure. Rob’s head and shoulders hung awkwardly off the side of the couch, his mouth slackened, a low, saliva filled garble escaping ceaselessly from his parted lips as he reacted the only way he knew how to his son’s amourous advances. Thin trails of drool escaped his loose lips, falling into his mustache and threatening to pour down into his flared nostrils. Through his lidded eyes, he watched an upside-down world sway to the beat of his son’s demands.
When Jake orgasmed, Rob felt no rush of fluid or cry of victory. There was a sharp grunt, a sudden stop, and then the familiar warmth spreading through his core. From his vantage point, Rob dozily understood what this meant, and the tiniest of smiles passed over his face, drooping with the help of gravity, as he released a small satisfied sigh. He had done it again. Anything for his boy.
The removal of Jake from his body was almost more traumatic than the fucking. Rob felt loose and wet and sore. A distant echo of their first time. A dim, calculating part of his brain noticed the pattern, the steady escalation, but Rob was sated and too exhausted to pay it any mind. Without Jake’s tight grip on his body, Rob began to slump the rest of the way off the couch, and he landed with a soft thump onto the carpet. Resting on his side, he made no effort to rise or even move. He simply lay there, like a discarded toy, boneless and vacant.
He doesn’t notice Jake rise to his feet, or hear him leave the room and walk down the hallway. Rob only stared straight ahead, his gaze blank as he glanced at the stray crumbs that have collected under the coffee table. I need to vacuum, he thought to himself, distantly.
At the first touch of wet cloth on his skin, Rob instinctively flinched, and it was only the soothing sound of his oldest son’s voice that stopped him from lashing out. He relaxed back down onto the floor, the wet towel gently wiping his skin clean, or at least removing the most pungent stench of McManus sweat and grime from his body. He heard Jake chuckle lowly to himself as he squeezes the rag dry.
“Damn, Dad. I kinda did a number on you, didn’t I?” Rob doesn’t respond. Sometimes silence said more than words. He allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, even though his shaky body protested the movements. His exhausted form was quite comfortable on the floor, the red carpet patterns burned into his flesh telling the tale, but Jake was right to pull him up. He may be a slut, a whore for his son to use like a toy until it broke, but he was still a father and he always had another duty to attend to.
As Jake lead him, or perhaps more accurately dragged him down the hall, the reality began to sink in. This was how it was going to be for now on, wasn’t it? He would go to work, slave away with roughnecks who got under his skin, only to come home and find himself facing a job that would push him even further than he could ever imagine. He shivered at the thought and he isn’t sure if it comes from fear or excitement.
He knows he should protest Jake leading him to the bed. It’s too early for sleep and they have fucked plenty already, but as soon as his back hits the mattress, his body feels like it’s struck with paralysis. When his head touched the pillow, sleep descended upon him in an instant. As his world faded to black, he could hear a low murmur that must be his son, but he can’t recognize the words or pull himself together before he finally drifted off completely. Rob slept, his dreams filling with the sinful touch of rough hands, wicked tongues, and hungry words.
-----
IV.
Robert came to slowly and groggily. As his eyes began to clear, he stared in confusion at a powder-coated, metal-paneled ceiling. He could feel strange movement coming from his netheregion, like he was being pried open. He tried to lift his head to glance down his hairy torso and between his legs to discover the source, but found to his astonishment that he couldn’t. Something large and bulky was blocking his view. As his wits came back to him, he realized that the object he was looking at wasn’t connected to him, it was him. His belly, which should have only the barest hint of a baby bump, was now huge, a rotund mass far bigger than any pregnancy he had ever carried before. It was 2, no, 3 times the size it should have been.
As he stared at his stomach in shock and horror, he could feel something moving more steadily around his vaginal opening, probing and spreading his thick folds. He lay there shaking, his obscene bulging belly blocking him off from the rest of the world, the smell of antiseptic filling his nostrils. When the stimulation at his opening stopped, he released a shaky breath he hadn’t known he was holding. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw a man’s head peek out from above his stomach.
It took him a second to realize that it was his own son, Jacob, dressed head to toe, in full hospital surgical scrubs. He tried to lift himself up, to get a better look his boy, to find out just what was going on, but he was too heavy, too tired, and even with Jacob standing at his full height, he could barely see more than his son’s head and shoulders around his abdominal bulk. Rob collapsed back at what he now realized was on a hospital bed.
“Jake?” he asked in confusion, his voice sounding distant and echoey in his own head. “What’s going on?” Jacob leaned forward, his head nearly resting on Rob’s belly. His eyes twinkled with amused affection, fingers slick with Rob’s juices.
“What’s it look like, Dad?” he asked, as if the answer was inherently obvious. “We’re going to birth those babies of ours.” Jacob ran a hand over his dad’s pregnant mound, like a proud papa, whistling under his breath. “You’re really stretched to the limit, aren’t you? It’s like I put a litter inside you.” The words sent a strange, shameful shiver up Rob’s spine. He swallowed hard, trying to hold down the rising panic.
“Jake,” he said, a hint of pleading in his voice. “I’m not ready, son.” He could hear the fear there, the fear that always lurked under the surface of his blue collar dad personality. He always lost himself when he was pregnant and became something more true, more real, and undeniably more vulnerable than he ever presented himself to the world. That was the real Robert McManus, a man who felt nothing like a man. Jacob gave his dad a questioning look.
“Aww, don’t be like that, Dad,” he said, gentle chiding in his voice. “You mean to tell me you’re going to hold out on us after everyone came to watch the show?” Rob’s eyes widened, and he strained his head frantically in every direction, trying to decipher his son’s meaning. Panic swam in his vision as he imagined strangers seeing him so horribly exposed.
“Wh-who’s there!?” he said, more fearful than he intended. “Jake, who’s watching me!?” Jake said nothing, but Rob could just make out movement from the corner of his vision. There were multiple figures approaching from each side. His eyes widened as they began to come into view. On the left: Earl, a crooked smile on his face, Lil, giving him another cherry thumbs up, and Matty, giving Rob one of his awestruck smiles. Seeing them together, seeing him like this, made Rob want to topple the bed and crawl out the door. But it was the ones on the right that broke him: his mom, silent tears of sorrow pouring down her face, his father, with a familiar glare of condemnation, and then the worst...Christopher.
Rob’s mouth opened in shock and he tried to scream, but no sound came out, just a coarse vibration in his throat that brought tears to his eyes. His inside lurched, as if a bomb had imploded in his gut. The shock of being exposed by all these people, especially by him, was triggering his body into labor. Jacob looked down in surprise as a wet gush splashed out from between Rob’s legs.
“Whoa!” he said, laughing. “Looks like the show is starting folks!” Rob watched in petrified horror as the bobbing heads of all of his most precious loved ones zoomed in closer to get a better view. NO! Don’t look at me! He tried to shout, but again, not a peep escaped his mouth, and he clamped his legs, willing his loosened lips to shut their doors. Jacob looked up, a look of minor annoyance and concern on his face.
“Looks like you need some help again, Dad,” he said in disapproval. “Just like with Caleb in the car. Good thing I came prepared this time.” Rob watched with a sense of dawning horror as Earl and Matty stepped forward and began to glove up his son. They weren’t any old latex gloves either. They were the thick, lengthy kind that veterinarians would use for farming livestock, and they snapped in place with a loud crack at his son’s elbows. Rob watched, his eyes wide as saucers, as his son’s gloved hands reached down between his quivering legs.
“Here we go!” Jacob said cheerfully, and Rob screamed as both of his son’s hands pushed their way into his vagina at the same time…
----
Rob woke in a cold sweat, a shout tearing from his lips in the darkened room. As fresh air began to fill his panicked lungs, his swimming head started to clear and his eyes began to adjust to the absence of light. He was in his room, in his bed, under a now sweat-soaked sheet that clung to him like a second skin. Not in a hospital, not doing that. He let his head collapse back on the damp pillow, his head aching the entire him, and closed his eyes again as his breathing evened out. Of course it had been a dream…
He jumped, then winced as the lights in the room came on, instinctively putting a hand over his eyes to block out the harsh glare.
“You ok, Dad? You were getting pretty loud back there.”
The frown sat hard under Rob’s covered face. Of course Jake had heard him shout out like a girl in a cheesy horror flick. He had probably woken up the entire neighborhood with his caterwauling. Suddenly aware of his surroundings, he lowered his hairy arm from off his face and squinted in his son’s direction.
“What time is it?” he asked, his voice croaking. He needed some water, or maybe something stronger. Jake pulled his phone from his pocket and read off the screen.
“9:48PM.” Rob sighed. He shouldn’t have slept this long. It wasn’t right and he had things to do. Which reminded him…
“Where’s your brother?” he asked, a hint of wariness in his voice. Jake just smirked at him, as if the younger man was reading his dad’s thoughts.
“Sleeping like the baby he is,” Jake said, with a hint of pride. “I got him fed, cleaned, diapped up, you name it. Little bro is good to go.” Robert raised an eyebrow at that, the frown never leaving his face. He was not at all certain that was actually true, but he was too tired to challenge his son on the matter.
He began to rise to his feet, his body aching and protesting the movements, like he was suffering from the worst hangover. He was still wound up after the long day, his fight with Earl, the bad dream, and his son’s libidinous advances. He sniffed himself and the frown returned.
“I need a shower,” he said. Just a statement of fact. Jake chuckled at that, some private comment roaming through his thoughts, but whatever crazy thoughts were running through his young brain, he wasn’t sharing them with dear old dad.
“Want me to draw you a bath?” Jake asked, only partially teasing. Rob hesitated. A bath sounded awful good right now, wonderful in fact, but something about his own son waiting on him like this just didn’t sit right with him. Sons don’t take care of their fathers. It was the other way around. Right?
“No, a shower would be better,” Rob compromised. “I don’t want to fall back asleep in the tub.” He gave Jake a disapproving glare when he saw the smirk on his son’s face. “I don’t know what you’re smiling about. I’m only like this because of you,” he muttered. His pussy still ached from the overbearing attention, but that didn’t stop a faint twinge of heat from blossoming in his core from the lusty look Jake gave him. He coughed, ducking his head, and moved past his son, not wanting another repeat of this afternoon.
The spray of the hot shower water was a small balm for Rob’s frayed soul. It had been a long time since he had a nightmare that frightening and strained. The images from the dream dredged up thoughts and feelings from a life long buried and left behind. This was Jake’s fault, he told himself, not liking to pass the blame, but there was a clear connection. Jake had become the sexual stage manager of Robert’s life in and outside of his dreams, and this was the harvest that was being reaped.
The dream, as surreal and disturbing as it had been, made him realize something very important. He was going to have to have a conversation with Jake about his birth father sooner or later. A real one, no lies, no half-truths, no nothing but the facts. Just the thought gave him a headache, even worse than before. Christopher...I thought I was done with you.
-----
Jake listened to the sounds of running water coming from the bathroom. He was lounging in his dad’s bed, primed for another round of savage love making, but that dream of his seemed to have spooked his old man so he decided to give the poor guy a break for once. He knew he would just get his again in the morning. He smirked. Hell, probably not even that long.
He wrapped the sheets, still damp with Rob’s juices, around himself finding a strange comfort in being surrounded by his dad’s scent this way. It was somehow paternal and yet so sexual at the same time. An intoxicating combination.
He had been busy while Rob slept, moving the plan along, ready to take things to the next step. He was beginning to run out of time, he realized. Once his baby was born he and his dad would be tethered to the child for a good long while so Jake’s detective days would be numbered. He had questions that needed answers and by god he was going to get them.
But more than that, there were wrongs that needed to be righted. Earl Fallon was sometimes more loud than bright, but when he was right, he was right. He checked his phone again for messages, eager to see the latest reply. Between feeding and other duties, Jake had been texting Matty all evening. The other boy seemed eager and happy to be talking to Jake, not too different from an excitable puppy. The thought was more than a little endearing.
At the chime of his phone, he opened the messenger app and grinned at what he read.
Yeah! I’m free on Friday. Let’s do it.
Jake responded with an affirmative and began to give Matty his dad’s address, then stopped. With a knowing smirk on his face, he realized he didn’t need to. Robert had already given Matty a warm McManus family welcome.
See you then, bro. Can’t wait until you meet Caleb. Matty’s heart response was almost as heartwarming as the man it came from. He set the phone aside for now, lounging in his shared bed with his dad. He could feel himself hardening in his pants again.
Sorry, Dad. Looks like I can’t wait until tomorrow after all.
When Rob reentered the bedroom, hair damp and body glistening from his recent shower, he took one look at his son, just shook his head, and gave Jake a knowing look.
“I swear, Jake,” he said, as he crawled onto the bed, his big, hefty body settling between his son’s spread legs. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Jake chuckled, and then sighed in pleasure as the familiar sensation of his father’s mouth descending upon his dong struck him once more. Yes, he decided, some much needed change was coming, but not before he came again first.
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