Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

SIX WEEKS SINCE INITIAL EXPOSURE

The gym was humming, barbells clanged, sneakers squeaked against rubber mats, and the air held that sour, electric blend of chalk, sweat, and effort. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, catching the faint sheen on every back and shoulder in motion. But today, none of it swallowed Dalton whole. He had arrived an hour before his session with Cooper, and he was excited to get started and felt aimless just sitting at home. He had spent a little time jerking off to the video Cooper had sent him, the domination of the petite pussy, but even that wasn’t enough to quinch his cagey energy.

His fitted gym shorts sat snug at the waist and rode high on his thighs, giving his legs a full range of motion. The moisture-wicked tee hugged across his chest and clung lightly to his upper back, already marked with the faint start of sweat between his shoulder blades. Having finished a round of assisted weights, he cut straight to the free weights. No glance around, no pause to psych himself up. At the squat rack, he exhaled once through his nose and peeled off his shirt. Cooper had found them a gym that was lax on rules. Or rather, where rules were nearly non-existent. 

He stripped his shirt off in one fluid motion. The shirt hit the bench beside him in a quiet, practiced drop. His body wasn’t sculpted yet, but it was built now, built by time and showing up. His chest, dappled in a light brush of hair, carried bulk, rounded with early definition, and the subtle groove between his pecs deepened when he flexed. His shoulders were thickening, traps rising toward his neck. His stomach had trimmed down enough to show those first diagonal cuts angling toward his waistband. His arms, once soft, now held tone even at rest, veins starting to rise beneath skin flushed from heat. He stretched his neck side to side, slowly. His skin glistened, sweat clinging to the dip of his spine and the inside of his pits. 

A low whistle cut through the background noise.

Cooper strolled over, shirtless, body pumped from a heavy set. His torso was still dripping, patches of darker sweat staining the waistband of his loose black shorts. They hung low, almost recklessly so, revealing the dip of his lower back and just the suggestion of where the V-cut ended and his wild pubes began.

“Damn, I was getting in some reps in the back and spotted you” Cooper muttered, circling with a grin. “Big D, how long have you been clocked in? You’re early?”

Dalton didn’t flinch. He rolled one shoulder, then the other, arms swinging loose at his sides. “I’ve been clocked in, bro.”

Cooper snorted, cracking his knuckles. “Fair. Let’s see it. Arms up.”

Dalton raised both arms and flexed. Nothing exaggerated, just solid. Shoulders wide, biceps coiled, a faint ridge forming where delts met upper arm. Cooper stepped in close. His palms landed on Dalton’s biceps, gripping tight, thumbs pressing into the groove of the muscle.

“Not bad,” he said. “You’re holding shape, even relaxed.”

He moved behind Dalton without asking, hands trailing over the curve of his traps, brushing down the center of his back, fingers pausing at the narrow point of his waist. He ran them along Dalton’s obliques, slow, reading the new lines forming there.

“You’ve cut fat,” he said, tone a little quieter. His hands rested on Dalton’s hips. Gentler than expected. “Still soft in the middle, but not in a fat ass kind of way. I’m doing nice fucking work.”

Dalton’s jaw flexed. He didn’t speak, just nodded, chin tight.

Cooper’s eyes dipped lower. Being touched had stirred something in Dalton. The front of his gym shorts had started to tent, subtly but clearly, enough that it made a small ridge in the fabric. Cooper saw it. Looked back up. Didn’t say anything right away.

Dalton caught Cooper’s glance. He didn’t shift. Didn’t cover. He just stood, chest rising slow and steady, sweat tracking down his sternum.

Cooper raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Look at you. Shameless.”

Dalton allowed a smirk. “Not hiding anymore.”

“That so?” Cooper said, letting his hands roll over Dalton’s hips and down, gripping the older man’s fluffed cock.. “You get the house sorted?”

Dalton shivered, shook his head once. “Not yet. But I’m getting there. Every day.”

Cooper gave him a nod, firm, approving. He removed his hands from Dalton. “Keep showing up like this? You’ll get there faster than you think. You think you’re getting your money’s worth out of me, old man?”

Dalton smirked again and nodded.

“Good,” Cooper raised one eyebrow. “'Cause I’m gonna need an extra hundred after today’s session. Hosting a party this weekend. Gotta prep. You good with that?”

“Anything, man.” Dalton stomach ached at the thought of losing these sessions.

They moved to the mats and dropped into their pre-lift stretches. Dalton bent forward cleanly, palms flat on the floor. His hamstrings opened with minimal protest, and his thighs, thicker than they were weeks ago, were hairy, sweat-glossed. They pressed tight through his shorts.

Beside him, Cooper dropped into a wide lunge, one knee bent, the other stretched long. As he shifted, the leg of his shorts rode up just enough to flash the tip of his cock head, pendulous and swinging free, momentarily uncontained beneath the fabric.

Dalton saw it. No blink. No shift. Just kept stretching.

Cooper noticed the lack of reaction and smiled faintly. “Guess I don’t throw you off anymore.”

Dalton glanced sideways, voice calm. “You’re just another dude stretching. No shame, bro.”

Cooper laughed. “Man, you’ve come a long way. Not long ago you were walking around here with a stick up your shitter.”

Dalton rolled his neck. “That guy’s gone.”

They finished the warmup without another word, just controlled breathing, skin sticky, muscles warm. Two bodies in rhythm. No shame. No second-guessing. Cooper finished his stretches with a leg lift that let his cock hang completley free through the leg of his shorts. Dalton chuckled.

“I’d have to be wearing briefs for mine to hang like that.”

“Us hung bros need little dudes like you, or else we ain’t shit.” Then Cooper grunted. “Let’s get some squats in.”

…

The bar clanged hard as Cooper slid on the last set of plates, metal echoing through the gym’s thick, musty air. Dalton stepped in, already loose and warmed up, shirt still off, skin damp with a fine layer of sweat. His chest rose steadily, streaked with moisture, and his gym shorts clung tighter than before, riding up at the thighs, sticking to the inside seam. A faint, visible ridge curved forward across the front, shifting slightly with every breath. He did not adjust. No apology.

Cooper ducked under the bar, settling it across his shoulders. His back glistened under the lights, sweat beading at the nape of his neck and running down the curve of his spine. His shorts were soaked through at the waistband, clinging across the back, outlining the deep groove of his ass crack. With every subtle motion, his ass cheeks jiggled.

“Three sets. Eight clean,” Cooper said. “Tight spot.”

Dalton nodded, stepping in behind him. “Right here.”

Cooper’s first rep was smooth. Down and up. Clean mechanics, no contact. Dalton watched every angle, hands ready. He envied the muscular grooves in the younger man’s back. And though he tried to keep the thoughts out of his mind, he imagined what they’d feel like under his hands as he massaged the tension from them.

Rep two. On the return, Cooper leaned back just a bit farther. His sweaty ass brushed Dalton’s crotch. Light pressure, but enough to make contact. Dalton didn’t react outwardly, but inside, heat stirred. The ridge behind his shorts twitched, tightening.

Rep three. Cooper’s stance widened. The descent was slower, deeper. And on the rise, he pressed his round ass firmly into Dalton’s hips, dragging the wet groove of his asscrack along Dalton’s bulge, slow and deliberate. The pressure held for a second. Dalton stiffened slightly, then reset his breath. The front of his shorts was visibly lifted now.

“Damn, I can feel these squats digging deep?” Cooper grunted, not turning.

Dalton answered flatly, “Yeah, I bet.”

Rep four. Another drop. This time, the return was a full grind. Cooper’s ass rolled up along Dalton’s bulging crotch, slick with sweat, the friction obvious through both layers of damp fabric. Dalton’s cock thickened fully behind the waistband, pushing forward, outlined and unhidden. He didn’t step back. He just held.

“How’s my form?” Cooper asked.

Dalton’s voice came quieter. “Perfect.”

Rep five. The squat was heavier. Cooper paused at the bottom, his thighs bulging under the weight, then drove upward, slow and full. His pumped ass pressed back again, this time shifting slightly side to side, dragging across Dalton’s bulge as if checking placement. Dalton’s breath hitched. His body answered, throbbing, firm, and warm and solid behind the stretch of his shorts.

Rep six. Sweat poured now. Cooper’s back was soaked. Dalton’s chest dripped. The scent between them, raw effort, heat, and fabric worn thin, settled in the air. On the rise, Cooper leaned all the way back into him. Dalton’s rock-hard bulge was locked into place against the weight of him, pushed deep into the grooved fabric; he swore he could feel the heat coming off the younger man’s hole. He held still. Held his stance.

“Damn, this shit is hard” Cooper muttered. “Not sure I can hit the next two.”

Dalton was positive that Cooper clenched his hole. He felt it move against his shaft.

“You can, bro,” Dalton said. “I’ve got you.” He gripped Cooper’s hips.

Rep seven. Cooper groaned deeply, dropping lower than before, almost touching the gym floor. As he rose, he pushed his ass into Dalton with full weight, slow drag, pressure straight through. Dalton’s jaw clenched. His shorts were soaked now, the front darkened, a subtle spot forming at the tip of the ridge. He hadn’t realized how worked up he had gotten. He didn’t hide it. Just breathed.

“Fuck, man,” Cooper huffed. “That was a deep one.” His back streamed with beads of sweat. 

Dalton gave a short nod and ran his hands up Cooper’s dripping sides. “Just one more.”

Cooper dropped low, legs shaking. As he rose, again he he ground his ass back, tight, slow, full pressure from from shaft to cock head. Dalton stood tall, breath locked, body hard and rooted. There was no space between them for a full second.

Cooper stayed in the position and turned his head slightly back towards Dalton. “Bro, if I asked you to pull my shorts over my ass and fuck my hole right here and now, what would you say?”

Dalton hesitated only for a moment. “I’d say no shame, fuck yeah.” 

Then the bar was racked with a hard clang. Set complete.

Cooper stepped forward, muscular chest and abs glistening with sweat, chest rising fast. He looked back at Dalton, his eyes tracking down, lingering on the clear shape tenting beneath the cling of Dalton’s shorts. 

Dalton caught sight of the massive bulge pressing against Cooper’s fabric, nearly lifting up and out of the leg of his shorts.

Cooper didn’t say anything at first. Just nodded once. “Fuck, you’ve changed,” he said. “You’ve finally found the path to being a man again.”

Dalton exhaled, steady. “Feels that way.”

“You don’t back off. You don’t shrink. You’re shameless.”

Dalton smirked faintly.

Cooper locked eyes with him, and they stood silent for a moment. Then Cooper grabbed his bottle and started walking toward the bench rack. His shorts clung tighter now, dripping down the backs of his legs, fabric so damp that Dalton could see the outline of a dark jock strap cupping his jiggling cheeks. 

Dalton followed, tense, flushed, and pumped. He was still hard. His damp shorts did nothing to hide the boner. 

Cooper wiped his face. “You’ve got real presence now. I’m not just talking ‘bout your arms or your legs. It’s just in you now.”

Dalton met his gaze. “Couldn’t have done it without you, man.”

“You keep showing up like this, I’ve got something for you.”

Dalton raised a brow. “Like what?”

Cooper smirked. “Let’s just say, not everyone gets the invite.”

Dalton tilted his head. “You just gonna tease me, bro?”

Cooper just smirked. “Let’s rinse off.” 

…

Steam rolled heavy through the air, clinging to the tile walls and thickening with every passing minute. The overhead lights glowed through the mist like diffused moons, catching on droplets hanging from every surface. Water struck the floor in steady rhythm, echoing off the open layout—no curtains, no dividers, just tile and sweat and men.

Dalton stood tall beneath his showerhead, arms braced behind him against the wall. The water flowed down his front in thick streams, washing over a chest flushed with effort, cutting down through his abs, and trailing across his bare hips. Cock hung forward, veined, and firm in all of its five inches, proudly framed by the way his stance widened under the heat. There was no hiding anymore. His presence radiated ease.

To his right, Cooper stood under his showerhead, head tilted back, water pouring across his broad chest and down the long, slick line of his torso. His cock also hung in full, weighted glory, low, heavy, and unmistakable even through the fog. It swayed slightly when he adjusted his footing, glistening under the water like something primal and undeniable.

The air smelled of warm skin, soap, faint musk, and the earthy scent of sweat rinsed from oily bodies. Steam clung to every inch of them, curling around ankles and rising to their thighs, fogging up their calves like smoke. The tile beneath their feet was slick and warm, water pooling low around their toes. In some places, cum shots from other gym patrons clinged to the tile, destined for the drain. 

Dalton shifted, rolling his neck. His breath was calm. His shoulders had dropped into a relaxed slope, the kind only earned through full effort and full acceptance. No towel. No hiding. 

Two other men occupied the space, each lost in their post-workout rituals. To the left, a lean, boyish twink stood with his back arched slightly, hands in his hair as he scrubbed shampoo through wet strands. His face was sharp, delicate in the cheekbones, with painted pink fingernails that glinted through the mist. His cock, six inches and uncut, was stiff and proud, curving sharply upwards, unashamed, flushed at the tip, and bobbing faintly as he rinsed. His body was smooth, lightly toned, and beaded with water like polished porcelain.

At the far end, a tall, broad-shouldered black man faced the wall. His skin gleamed like polished bronze under the stream, muscles twitching occasionally as water beat down across his traps. Long braids flowed down his wide back. His ass was round and firm, perfectly shaped and flexed slightly as he leaned into the wall with one arm. Water trailed down the curves, catching light before dripping to the tile below.

Dalton’s gaze wandered for a beat, soaking it all in. But his focus returned to Cooper as the man shifted and stepped half a pace closer, hands bracing behind his head, stretching his torso open like a challenge.

Cooper glanced at him. “You finally done pretending this isn’t the best part of being a man?”

Dalton let out a breath, half laugh, half exhale. “I mean, my cock is out, ain’t it?”

“I had to be sure,” Cooper said, turning slightly so his side faced Dalton, enough for the weight of his Shaft to swing visibly, water catching along the underside. His nuts hung extremely low in the warm atmosphere. “Some guys fake it. Put on a show but with nothing real underneath it all.”

Dalton raised an eyebrow. “And me?”

Cooper looked him over once. “You’re planted. You show up. Even now, standing there with your cock hanging proud out like it’s supposed to be there.”

Dalton smirked. “It is.”

The steam wrapped around them in thick bands, curling up over Cooper’s hips and around Dalton’s thighs. Their dongs both hung full, unbothered, swaying faintly as they shifted their footing beneath the hot water. Their arms brushed once, wet, smooth, casual. Neither moved away.

From across the room, the twink caught a glance in their direction. He lingered too long, lip caught slightly between his teeth, before he turned back under the spray. The man at the far wall made no move, just adjusted his stance, his dumpy flexing tight for a breath as water ran straight down the center.

Dalton didn’t say anything about the looks. He just leaned into the spray, dick twitching once from the temperature shift, and let the moment settle.

Cooper looked over at him again. “Damn man, you’ve really shown up.”

Dalton nodded once. “Felt like time.”

Cooper’s voice dropped just a touch. “Yeah… it is.” He turned toward Dalton slowly, water running in rivulets down his abs, his cock swaying low and thick, the head flushed from temperature and blood. His eyes narrowed just a bit, playful, but steady. “You remember what I said about a reward?” he asked.

Dalton tilted his chin. “You said I was earning it.”

“Yeah,” Cooper said, stretching one arm against the wall, his bicep flexing under the tension. “You’ve been showing up. Lifting right. Taking pressure. Owning your space.”

He stepped slowly toward the far wall, where the steam was thickest, where the light barely reached.

“You want the final test?” Cooper asked, looking over his shoulder with that same infuriating grin. “The real bro rite of passage?”

Dalton arched a brow, half-laughing. “You mean there’s another one?” His gut tumbled. He wanted nothing more. 

“Oh yeah,” Cooper said, planting both palms flat on the slick tile. “This one’s not about weights. It’s about shamelessness.” 

He let his arms bend, his body lowering slowly, torso folding, his back arching with control, legs shifting until his stance widened. Water poured down his spine, pooling just above the base, before splitting and running in streams down both sides of his thick ass. His cheeks shifted and spread slightly as he settled into the pose, parted just enough to draw the eye to a tight pink hole, glistening under the warm spray.

He looked back over his shoulder, chin low, smirk still painted across his face. “You up for it?” he said, voice low but steady. “The real proof you’re one of us? This isn’t something I offer every bro. Only two fuckers have ever had the pleasure of boning my shitter. Hell, by fag standards I’m a fucking virgin.”

Dalton stared, silent for a beat. The steam moved like breath between them, curling around his calves, clinging to his chest. His heart thumped hard behind his ribs, his shaft bouncing slightly with the pulse.

The twink watched, wide-eyed, still under his shower, hands braced at the back of his neck. 

The black guy turned his head, braids hanging low, taking in the commotion. 

It was just them now. Dalton and Cooper. And a question hanging in the steam like a dare.

Dalton stepped forward, just once, barefoot on slick tile. He didn’t answer with words. He didn’t need to. The steam thickened, curling through his hair, trailing down his back in waves. The tile under his feet felt warmer now, almost soft with heat and pressure.

Cooper was still bent forward at the far wall, his arms resting low against the tile, shoulders wide, head turned just enough to watch Dalton over one shoulder. His expression was something between smug and expectant, eyebrows lifted, mouth curled into that same half-daring smirk.

His stance had widened a touch more. Water streaked down the full curve of his dumpy, gliding into the cleft with each shifting breath. The round muscles flexed subtly, spreading under their weight, wet and glistening. An invitation.

Dalton’s heart was hammering in his ears. He hadn’t stepped across this kind of line since that one summer, and it was blurred and buried under years of deflection. But it was here again, right now, only louder, more physical, and stripped of secrecy.

His dick twitched, stiff, swaying slightly as he stepped forward. Every inch of his body burned: thighs flexing, chest heaving, skin wet and radiant under the shower spray. He didn’t ask. Didn’t speak.

He moved into position behind Cooper, close enough that the heat radiating from their bodies pulsed together. Cooper shifted slightly, arching deeper. The water ran down his spine and funneled between his cheeks, everything on display but said in silence.

Dalton hovered, still uncertain. His hand landed on Cooper’s lower back, tentative. The contact made Cooper shift again, deliberately. Cheeks parted wider, his hole twitched.

A breath caught in Dalton’s throat.

Then Cooper muttered, low and crude, voice thick with grit. “Come on, D. You’ve been showing up for weeks. Time to finally prove it.”

Dalton swallowed and fell against Cooper’s back. His chest brushed Cooper’s back now, slick on slick. He wanted to feel the young man against him. He sighed into Cooper’s ear.  He adjusted once. Finding his footing. His cock slid up Cooper’s fuzzy crack, shaft sliding against the wet hole. 

The moment was awkward at first, hands searching, hips misaligned, cock not managing to find entry. Dalton cursed under his breath. Cooper laughed quietly, pressing back into him with more pressure.

“Loosen up,” Cooper grunted. “It ain’t a handshake. Use your hips. Be a fuckin’ man about it.”

Dalton growled something in return, half curse, half release, and locked in.

What followed wasn’t graceful, but it was real. Raw. Dalton’s body took over, his grip firming on Cooper’s pecs, his own chest flattening against Cooper’s back. The sound of skin on skin grew louder than the shower spray for a moment as Dalton’s humble cock found the young, tight hole. Cooper grunted encouragement, crude and biting.

“That’s it. There’s the fuckin’ dog in you.”

Dalton didn’t speak. He just moved, steady now, the rhythm finding him, built from instinct and buried memory. The heat of Cooper’s hole stretched over Dalton’s shaft and suckled at it. 

Cooper braced harder against the wall, his ass pushed back, slick and parted under the water. The steam blurred their outlines, but didn’t hide the weight of it, the heavy breath, the pounding rhythm of muscle, the slap and shift of wet contact.

The twink watched, eyes hooded with desire. He stroked his cock. 

The man with braids had finally turned towards them. His cock was a monster. Nine inches, curving downward and to the left, pillowed by large hanging nuts. 

Every inch of Dalton’s body was alive. As he shoved his hips against Cooper’s jiggling cheeks, he took inventory of the men watching him. His vision narrowed. His thoughts vanished.

His hands locked firm around Cooper’s waist, fingers digging into slick skin, holding him in place like he was anchoring his entire life to that one body. His thighs slapped against Cooper’s with rhythm, hard and fast. 

Cooper grunted with every hit, the modest cock stretched his hole gently, bracing his arms against the wall. “There you go. That’s how a fuckin’ man moves. Own it.”

Dalton didn’t answer. His breath was ragged, wet with heat, throat raw from effort. His chest flattened against Cooper’s back as their bodies collided again, harder, louder. The slap of it echoed through the tiled room, a crude, relentless rhythm that filled the space with something with a perverse tension. 

The twink leaned against the tile wall, legs spread wide, stroking his donger. His small balls bounced up and down with each jerk of his hand. 

The other man gripped his fat cock, slowly playing with it. His eyes were locked onto the scene, and he smirked like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

A different version of Dalton should’ve felt shame.

Instead, his thoughts were clear, sharp-edged, and rising between each ragged breath.

Maeve. His wife’s name passed through his mind like a ghost, flat and weightless. Her betrayal used to feel like a blade. Now it felt distant. Powerless. If she saw him now, shoulders flexed, chest streaked with water and heat, hips pistoning with purpose into another man’s ass—would she even recognize him? Would she dare speak?

The pressure inside his nuts coiled tight. His grip on Cooper’s waist clenched.

And then another thought. Sharper.

I wish my son could see me like this.

The flash of it hit hard. Not shameful. Not confused. Just real.

Let him see me, finally. Not backing down. Not muttering or shrinking. Not pretending. Just fucking planted. Full force. No apology.

Dalton slammed into Cooper again, gritting his teeth as Cooper barked a sharp, breathless curse, half laugh, half growl.

“Fuck,” Dalton whimpered into Cooper’s ear. “I’m gonna bust, bro.”

Dalton’s body burned, thighs taut, chest slick, vision narrowing. Then his breath caught in his throat. His grip tightened one final time as every muscle clenched in unison. Legs. Ass. Taint. Balls. Cock. His body locked. His breath cracked. And something inside him let go, not gently, not quietly, but completely. He moaned against Cooper’s neck.  He folded forward, forehead resting on Cooper’s neck, their breath rising together in the fog. His heart raced. The room echoed with the steady drip of water, the sound of exertion fading into the quiet hum of after.

“That was fucking hot!” The twink cheered, a rope of whit cum hanging from his cock head.

“Damn, man, I was jus’ getting started.” The black guy huffed. His fat cock was held in a tight grip.

Dalton didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. For the first time in years, he felt whole. Not just alive, but undeniably here. Seen. 

…

The locker room was cooler than the showers, but still thick with residual heat. The hum of overhead lights buzzed faintly, and the smell of soap, rubber, and sweat hung in the air like memory. Lockers clanged shut in the background. Towels swished. Water dripped from the benches.

Dalton sat on the bench, naked, legs spread, arms resting on his knees. His chest still glistened. His hair was damp. But more than that, he was settled. Fully in his body. Fully present. Shame or guilt, he felt neither.

Cooper flopped down next to him, nude, a bottle of water dripping from one hand. His grin hadn’t faded. That same crooked, know-it-all smirk, only now it came with something warmer behind it. Approval. Maybe even pride.

He elbowed Dalton lightly. “Bro, your kiddos are dripping down my legs?”

Dalton let out a low chuckle, rubbing a hand across his face. “Damn, you’re loose slut.”

Cooper tilted his head. “Shut up, fag!” He pulled Dalton into a headlock. “I know you’ve been bottled tight for a while. That much pressure coming out at once can hit different. You aight?”

Dalton, trapped between Cooper’s forearm, gave a small nod.

“Honestly,” Dalton choked. “I feel clearer than I have in years. Like something has been shut off inside my head.”

Cooper released him and leaned back, stretching. “Nah, man. You didn’t shut something off. You turned something on.”

Dalton looked at him. “Yeah?”

Cooper raised his brows. “Hell yeah. There wasn’t a shred of guilt or shame in there. That was drive. You fucked me like a fucking man. That was ownership.”

Dalton didn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth lifted. A crooked, earned smile. He sat a little straighter.

From down the row of lockers, the twink from the shower walked by, towel wrapped high on his waist, still dripping. He paused, turned slightly, then stepped a little closer.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft but confident. “I don’t usually stalk dudes after, but… you two were kind of amazing in there. So fucking hot.” His towel was tented. 

Cooper smirked. “Appreciate that, little man.”

Dalton blinked, but didn’t flinch. Didn’t hide.

“Well…” the twink smiled, bashful but bold. “If either of you ever wants company, or just a drink sometime… I’m free most nights. My name is Foster,” He looked at Cooper. “Mind if I get your number?”

Cooper chuckled. “You asking both of us or just the guy who did all the work?”

The twink grinned. “Both!”

Before they could answer, the tall black guy from the shower appeared at the end of the row. He’d changed into joggers and a tank top, still damp around the collar, and leaned against the locker like he’d been listening the whole time. He held his phone, thumbing it.

“I can send my Cruisr contact,” he said calmly, “I wouldn’t mind running into either of you again. Y’all got me boned the fuck up.”

Dalton swallowed but held the man’s gaze. “Appreciate that. I don’t have that app, though.”

“I already found his,” the man said, pointing to Cooper. “Sent my contact info. The name’s Carter. Next time, I’m not just watching.”

He walked off, casual, powerful, no big show, just presence. Just a man. Foster had changed into a pair of dino-printed undies and loose, baggy jeans. He pulled on a t-shirt and strolled back over. He handed Cooper his phone.

“I only got one rule, gay boy,” Cooper teased, taking the phone. “If we become bros you’re gonna fuck some real pussy with me at least once.”

Foster blushed and blurted out. “I fucked a bitch at the park,” he held his head up high, as though confessing a deep secret. “I think I’m like totally bi now.”

Cooper thumbed in his number and handed the phone back. 

“Then hit me up soon, fag.” 

Foster blushed again and tumbled out of the locker room. 

Cooper looked at Dalton.

Dalton looked back.

Cooper broke the silence first. “You and me are bros for life, man.”

Dalton smirked. “Feels like it.”

They sat there for another minute, bodies drying, muscles softening. Cocks hanging limp. No shame. No questions. Just air in their lungs and heat under their skin.

Then Cooper jumped up. “Oh, fuck, gonan have to shit out the babies!” He rushed to a stall and plopped down on a toilet. The room rumbled with the sound of wet farts. “Gonna be in here a bit,” he called through the stall. “Don’t forget the added fee!” 

Dalton smirked. “Sending it over now.”

As he changed into his clothes, he felt lighter than the air around him.

The sun was setting, throwing the sky into purples and oranges. The video on Carter's phone illuminated him and his friend Roman as they watched the young blonde woman on the screen. Hayleigh Burke sat in her dimly lit study, her expression a mask of calculated concern as she addressed the camera. 

"Good evening, patriots," she began, her voice measured and composed. "Tonight, I want to discuss a pressing issue weighing heavily on my mind." She leaned forward slightly, her blue eyes gleaming with apparent sincerity. The white t-shirt she wore depicted a cross that was stretched tightly across her round tits. 

"Guess she's using her followers for Botox and silicone," Carter growled. "Dumb hillbilly fucks are making her fucking rich." 

"They're nice tits, though," Roman observed. 

"We're not fucking her for her looks." Carter's cock stiffened at the thought of Roman burying himself inside the blonde teen. 

"Speak for yourself, man," Roman countered. "You know my girl hasn't been putting out now that she is knocked up. I'm ready to tear this white bitch’s holes up." 

Carter met Roman's eyes, the video droning in the background. 

"Sorry, man," Roman said, resting his head against the passenger seat and running a hand down his face. "I swear these pills your doctor gave us make me horny as fuck." He spread his legs a little in the seat, his shorts hugged his dark thighs, showing off a long, thick bulge. 

"No, man, you're right," Carter assured his friend. Harrington had prescribed a medicine called AllguardMale+, and Carter had been taking them for the last few weeks as they planned revenge. When Carter chose Roman to help, the doctor had also prescribed him the medication. 

"He said it's to keep us pumped so we don't fuck up from nerves," Carter continued. "But I swear I get buzzed and hard as fuck every time I pop one." 

"Right, it feels like I've taken a massive rip off a Viagra-laced joint every time." 

"But, yeah, man, not gonna lie, I'm ready to fuck the shit out of her white pussy." 

Roman's eyebrows rose. "You're actually wanting pussy?" 

Carter shrugged and looked out of the window. 

Hayleigh's voice brought their attention back to the screen. "We've all seen the headlines, heard the stories," she continued somberly. "Violent crime is on the rise in our communities, threatening the safety and security of law-abiding citizens like you and me." Images of crime scenes flashed on the screen as she spoke, accompanied by ominous music.

 Carter wasn't surprised to see that each picture featured a black person. 

"But what's truly alarming," she went on, her voice tinged with concern, "is the disproportionate involvement of certain demographic groups in these heinous acts of violence." She paused for emphasis, allowing her words to sink in. "Now, I'm not here to point fingers or assign blame," she stated, her tone carefully neutral. "But we cannot ignore the facts. There is a pattern here, a pattern of behavior that cannot be ignored." With a subtle nod, she signaled to her audience that they were in on the secret, that they understood the unspoken implications of her words. "It's time for us to have an honest conversation about the root causes of this violence," she declared, her voice firm. "We must address the underlying issues that drive individuals to resort to such desperate measures. We must stand for what's right and make America safe again." 

"Oh, I'm gonna fuck this bitch up," Roman growled, his wide nostrils flared. "Let's do this." 

Carter shifted the car into drive and left the lot. It took them twenty minutes to find the suburb where Hayleigh lived. They passed her house twice over, scoping it out. A moving van was parked in her drive, confirming the rumors that she had bought a mini-mansion outside of town. The night air hung heavy with anticipation as Carter and Roman parked their car a few houses down from Hayleigh Burke's residence. 

The street was quiet, the only sound was a faint rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Carter's heart pounded in his chest as he checked his watch, the glow of the streetlights casting an eerie shadow over his face. He met eyes with Roman, and an excited, horny energy passed between them. 

Roman took a few deep breaths, hyping himself up. "Let's fucking go!" He whooped, pulling a black ski mask over his head. 

"Let's fuck this bitch up," Carter yelled, hitting his steering wheel a few times. His cock was stiff in anticipation. He pulled on his ski mask.

 Night fell around them as they stepped out onto the pavement. They kept to the shadows along the side of the street. Carter mused that maybe they should have put the masks on closer to the house, but his ability to reason was clouded, likely due to the huge bulge he had been sporting all day. A glance at Roman's shorts showed that he was still boned up, too. 

They snuck up Hayleigh's drive, ducking behind the moving van and surveying the house. "You ready for this, Roman?" Carter whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the night. 

Roman's dark eyes gleamed with determination as he nodded, his muscular frame tense with anticipation. "Hell yeah, man. Let's show this racist little bitch what happens when she messes with the wrong people."

With a shared nod, Carter and Roman stealthily approached Burke's house, staying in the shadows to avoid detection. The moonlight illuminated the suburban neighborhood, illuminating the neatly trimmed lawns and white picket fences. When they reached the back of the house, Carter motioned for Roman to stay low as he carefully picked the lock on the back door, a skill he had practiced in Harrington's office for the past two weeks. 

With a soft click, the door swung open, revealing the dimly lit interior of Burke's home. Stepping inside, Carter and Roman were met with the faint scent of lavender air freshener and the soft hum of electrical appliances. They moved silently through the house, their senses on high alert for any sign of movement. 

Suddenly, footsteps echoed from the hallway, causing Carter's heart to race with adrenaline. He felt his cock, lodged against the leg of his joggers, throbbing against the inside of his thigh. He signaled for Roman to take cover as they crouched behind a nearby sofa, their breaths coming in shallow gasps. Seconds felt like hours as they waited in tense anticipation, the sound of their pounding hearts reverberating in the silence. 

Finally, the footsteps faded into the distance, leaving Carter and Roman alone once more. They crouched and followed the sound of them into a hallway. A door was partially open at the end of the hall, spilling pink light onto the dark hardwood floor. Carter and Roman stood tall, sporting bulges, and strode confidently to the end of the hall. Carter kicked the door open, and it slammed against the wall. 

Inside the bedroom, Hayleigh rose in her bed, her silk robe barely covering her fake, round tits. The sight of her lit a fire inside Carter, and he pounced with Roman hot on his heels. Before Hayleigh could scream, the two of them were on her. 

Roman tackled her on the bed and pressed a big hand over her mouth, muffling her screams. He sat on her thighs, straddling her and pinning her to the bed. Her blue eyes, wide with terror, darted around the room. Carter stepped up to the side of the bed and leaned into her face. 

"We saw your last video," he yanked the silk robe off her shoulders, pulled it out from under her, and tossed it to the floor. "Figured we'd show you firsthand how dangerous we are." 

Roman's free hand grabbed one of her round tits and brutally squeezed it. She yelped under his hand.

 Carter's cock throbbed at the sight of it. 

"Bro, I can't hold back," Roman grunted, his voice dripping with desire. A wet spot had appeared on the fabric at the tip of his bulge. He pawed at the tit under his palm excitedly. Hayleigh grunted into his palm. 

Carter looked back down at Hayleigh. "We're gonna fuck you like the savages you think we are. Gonna tear up your ass and pussy until you admit that black cock, black men, are superior. That you're obsessed with us because you long for us." 

Roman squeezed her face. "White bitch, if you try anything at all, we'll fucking end you." He let go of her face and, in a flash, crashed a fist into her mouth. Hayleigh was dazed from the sharp pain of his knuckles. Her head lolled to the side of the mattress. Roman drew his fist again. "Do you understand, white bitch?"

 She collected herself and wept, but nodded her head. Blood trickled from her lip. 

Carter pulled out his phone and angled it on the bedside table. "Let's fucking do this," he hooted, pumping himself up. "You fuck her on the bed, and I'll stand beside it and use her throat." 

Roman, raging, pulled his pants to his ankles, freeing his thick cock. It stuck out mostly straight, with a slight downward curve halfway down the veiny shaft. His balls were large and flopped loosely. He flipped Hayleigh onto her stomach. "Get on your knees and point that ass up here," he commanded. 

She cried against the mattress. "Please, please take whatever you want." 

Carter laughed, pulling his joggers to his ankles and kicking them off. His cock was larger than Roman's at around nine inches. His girthy shaft curved to the left and pointed to the ground. His balls were heavy and hung low. They ached as though overfilled with cum. "Don't worry, we plan on it." 

"Get on your fucking knees," Roman ordered again. "Don't make me fuck you up. We're dangerous animals, remember?" 

"Please, please," Hayleigh whimpered again. "I'm a virgin, I can't. I-I'll pay you anything...anything." She gasped in one final desperate plea. 

Roman balled his fist again and slammed it against the back of her head. She gasped and lost consciousness for a moment. Her eyes blinked open, dazed and confused. They widened with realization, and she wept. She pulled her knees up under her and raised her ass, letting her head rest at the edge of the mattress. 

Carter and Roman met eyes, smiling under their masks. 

"Dude, this white bitch's ass and pussy were made to be destroyed by black cock." Roman looked down at her arched ass, small and heart-shaped. Her ass cheeks were slightly parted, and a tight little hole peeked through. Just below her ass crack was an innie of a small, smooth pussy. Her wet slit glistened, and Roman smirked. This bitch wants it. 

Carter felt a wave of hunger for his friend, a desperate need to watch him ravage this white bitch. He stepped up to the side of the bed and took Hayleigh's face in his hand. He leaned in close to her ear, his breath hot and ragged. "You thought you could get away with calling us savages? Well, I guess it's time we prove you right. Open your fucking mouth." 

She closed her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks, and opened her plump lips. With a feral growl, Carter lunged forward and shoved his cock deep into Hayleigh's throat, his strong fingers dug into her hair, holding her head in place. His thrusts were rough and unrelenting, her gagging and choking only fueling his desire. 

Roman watched, his cock leaking precum, as Carter brutalized the white woman's mouth. "Damn, bro. I knew you had it in you!" He cheered. Tearing his eyes away from the sight of his friend fucking her throat, Roman decided it was time to do his part. He positioned himself behind Hayleigh, pressing the fat head of his cock against her tight, virgin asshole. With a deep breath, he thrust forward, his cock, coated only in precum, tore through her sphincter and slid balls-deep into her ass. 

Hayleigh screamed out in pain and surprise but she was choked out by Carter’s cock raping her throat. 

Her hole tore under Roman’s immense girth, and she squirmed in anguish. Roman grabbed her hips and brutally dominated her hole, relishing in pleasure as it sucked at his thick shaft. Her body shook under the relentless assault of the two friends. She clawed at the sheets, her mind jarred by the pain of the brutal erections tearing into each end of her. A haze of agony swirled around her thoughts, blanking her mind. 

Carter continued to pound her throat. Spit dripped down her chin and along his fat shaft. He grabbed her hair tighter, pulling her head back, fucking her throat relentlessly. He watched Roman fuck her little white ass and grunted with desire. 

Carter ignored Hayleigh; she was nothing more than a warm wet throat for his cock, no different from the countless men who had swallowed his loads. Across from him, Roman's lips puckered as he fucked the ass; his thrusts were powerful and masculine. Watching his friend dominate the hole had Carter's balls aching for release. 

Roman slid his cock from the pink hole, watching the swollen, gapped orifice try to close back up. His shaft was coated in thick creamy fluids from her ass. He pushed his round cock head down her taint and held it against the opening of her slit. 

"Please, no!" She begged one last time. Roman ignored her pleas and thrust forward, tearing through her hymen and burying his cock deep inside her virgin pussy. 

Hayleigh screamed in pain and shock, her body writhing beneath their powerful thrusts. 

"FUCK!" Roman moaned. "She wasn't lying about being a virgin." 

Carter, feeling his orgasm building, pulled out of her throat and slapped her face hard, leaving a red mark. Leaning down, he spat and smeared it across her face. "You like that? You like being a humiliated white bitch?" 

Roman's violation of her virginity invigorated Carter. 

Ignoring her pained cries, Roman started to fuck her hard and fast, his cock sliding in and out of her pussy, stretching it wider with each thrust. Between his thrusts, he looked down at her and said, "You know, you made a mistake thinking you could disrespect us like that. You really should keep your fucking opinions to yourself." 

Carter pointed to the camera and growled. "Tell your viewers how much you love this. Tell them black cock is superior, and this can all be over for you." 

Roman's balls continued slapping against her, his shaft filling her pussy to its limits, his bulbous cock head slamming against her cervix. 

She whimpered, deeply ashamed and appalled by the orgasm building inside of her. 

Carter sucked in air through his nose, totally overwhelmed by Roman's sheer domination. "Admit it now, white bitch. Admit that we're superior."

 Roman's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. He could feel the girl's thighs shaking as she squirmed with shameful pleasure. He increased his pace, his cock ramming her cervix brutally, each thrust a reminder of his dominance. Hayleigh's sobs turned into gasps for air, her body trembling in pure, unadulterated submission. Clear liquid streamed down her thighs, and her clit ached. 

"Do it, white bitch," Roman demanded, his voice breathy with lust. "Admit it. You're ours. You love it. You were always meant for this. Own it right now, or I'll pull my big cock out of your cunt and beat the shit out of you." 

She opened her mouth, eyes crossing, her voice shaking with terror and her budding orgasm as she uttered the words that would change her life forever, "Please, please don't stop! You own me." 

"And?" Roman lifted a balled fist. "You're superior. Black men are superior, and I've always believed that." She grunted, reciting what she hoped the men wanted to hear. Hoped it would end her torture.

Roman grabbed her hips and, with a brutal thrust, pushed his cock all the way into her. His shaft bent as his cock head rammed her cervix. "Fuck," he yelled. His cock twitched inside of her, flooding her cunt with cum. She cried out, a mix between a yelp and a moan. She slid onto the mattress, spent. Her cunt slipped off of Roman's throbbing cock, smeared red, gaped open, and oozing cum. 

Carter, overcome by a new desire, grabbed her by the hair and lifted her face. "Turn around and bend your ass over the mattress." 

"Dude, are you gonna actually try some pussy?" Roman laughed. He sat back on the bed, his legs spread into a wide V, cock still hard and resting against the sheets. 

"B-but you said it would be over if I-" 

"Shut the fuck up and bend over the mattress," Carter, enraged, slapped the shit out of her. 

Lights danced in her mind, and her ears rang. She wept again but rose to obey. She turned so that her chest and stomach rested on the mattress, but her ass bent over the edge. Carter surveyed her abused pussy and positioned his cock head against it. The slit was a swollen mess, but the view of his cock head pressing against it felt instinctual. Felt correct. It seemed only right that the first pussy he ever fucked was sloppy with his friend's nut. Her head rested between Roman's spread thighs. 

"You're gonna clean my cock while my man finally goes straight." 

She could feel the remnants of Roman's cum leaking out of her pussy, and the tip of another cock about to pound her. Carter grinned wickedly, his cock twitching with anticipation. He thrust himself into her pink, swollen folds. 

Hayleigh gasped, the pain of reentry overwhelming her senses as the gay cock pushed Roman's cum back into her.

 Roman pulled her face closer and positioned his cock at the entrance to her mouth, his eyes never leaving her face. "Clean my cock, white bitch," he growled. 

Hayleigh hesitated momentarily, the weight of her surrender and servitude pressing down on her like a vice. She knew she had no choice but to obey, and so she licked Roman's cock clean, the taste of her arousal mingling with the salty flavor of his spunk. 

Carter was frenzied. His cock was hard as a rock, and he thrust in and out of Hayleigh's pussy with a violent force that made her cry out in pain with each slam of his shaft. His long cock bent each time he rammed it against her cervix. 

"Fuck!" Carter moaned. "I've been missing out. Pussy feels fucking amazing!" 

"Told you, bro!" Roman laughed, gripping the back of the woman's head and fucking her face like a toy. 

Hayleigh could feel an orgasm building as the gay man pounded her. She moaned over Roman's shaft, and her climax sent her pussy clenching around the cock that fucked her mercilessly. 

Carter's taint tightened. "Here I fucking cum, bitch!" His cock erupted. His legs shook with the best orgasm of his life. His cock pumped and pumped and pumped. "Oh fuck," Carter whimpered, his cock felt electric. He pulled out, his cum making an audible splash against the floor. A glance at her creampie sent his mind into a spin, and he wanted to keep fucking her, but he shook his head to clear his mind. 

"Dude, you fucking did it!" Roman pushed Hayleigh off his stiff cock and maneuvered off the bed. He held out a hand to Carter, and they bumped shoulders and hugged. Their stiff cocks bounced against each other. 

Carter picked up his phone, and the two friends pulled their pants back on. 

"It's all recorded, bitch." Carter said to the limp body on the bed. "You're gonna do us a little favor, or this will be all over the internet. Understood." 

Hayleigh whimpered and nodded on the bed. 

"You're gonna drop the charges you have against Carter Creedence. Do you understand, bitch?" 

Another nod. 

"You'll have until four o'clock tomorrow." Carter signaled to Roman, and the two headed for the door. 

"Let me see if she has anything good, and then let's bail," Roman said. He rummaged around her bathroom, pocketing a few stimulants and some pain pills. 

He met Carter in the hallway, holding up a pill bottle. "She's on this shit too," he said, showing Carter a label that read ALLGUARD. 

"Let's get out of here," Carter said, pocketing the medicine bottle.

…

Carter ended the call and put the cell phone in his lap. A smile spread across his face. He leaned back on Harrington's leather sofa, Roman sitting beside him. 

"The charges are fucking dropped," he rejoiced. 

Roman slapped him on the shoulder. "Fuck yeah, man! Fuck yeah!" 

"Seems you got your justice," Harrington said, leaning on the corner of his desk. 

"Of course, in a few months, we'll make sure this video finds its way onto the internet." He thumbed at the phone screen in his hand and paused the video of Hayleigh taking the cocks. "This was also a journey of self-discovery for you." 

"It sure fucking was," Carter smirked. "I can't ever repay you, Doc." 

"Don't worry," Harrington waved him away. "I'm sure the time will come when the two of you can help me out." 

Harrington held out his hand, and the two friends rose from the sofa. They shook hands, and Harrington walked them out. 

Back in his office, Harrington picked up his phone from his desk and resumed the video of Hayleigh getting pounded into submission. He strolled to the statue of Pan and fumbled at the band of his pants, letting his fat cock flop out. He stroked it and willed it to engorge to its full nine inches. A bulbous head and deep slit peeked from a hood of foreskin. Harrington positioned his cock head over a bowl at the statue's feet and stroked vigorously, eyes sealed to the video. By the video's fourth loop, Harrington grunted and let his cock pump a thick load into the cup. 

Putner's lab was bathed in sterile white light, every surface gleaming with surgical precision. Rows of intricate machinery hummed softly, surrounding the three men as they worked in careful unison. The air smelled faintly metallic, tinged with something more primal, a cloying undertone that clung to the sinuses even beneath their protective respiratory gear. 

At the center of it all, Deyton Putner moved with quiet authority. This was his lab, his creation, and he handled the formula with a reverence bordering on obsession. He was lean but not frail, his frame draped in a perfectly tailored lab coat that suggested both meticulousness and vanity. 

His reddish hair, always a little messy, had a deliberate, tousled charm, as though he had just stepped away from something far more indulgent than chemical experimentation. Beneath the sterile mask, his striking, angular features carried an effortless allure; a refined sharpness that made his presence as captivating as it was unsettling. His eyes, cold and assessing, gleamed with the kind of intelligence that made his companions wary if his gaze lingered upon them for too long. 

In a large, reinforced vial, the viscous substance shimmered under the light, thick and pearlescent, almost organic in its consistency. A perfect mimicry of seminal fluid, its appearance was no accident. 

For the first few batches of SNIFF, Putner had taken inspiration from the chemical composition of the substances used in the competition in the woods that Harrington had made Ethan and Todd compete in.

“Though Harald was tight-lipped about how he was making the oils and inhalants he was giving you, I think I’ve managed to reverse engineer it. Maybe even have made it better.”  

He was refining the mixture into something more potent, more controlled. 

Harrington stood beside him, his posture rigid, but his sharp eyes studying every measured motion as Putner filled a sleek nasal dispenser with the liquid. “Good, that's exactly what we need for the final stages.”

Hadad, ever the smirking observer, leaned casually against the counter, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his interest. 

“This strain should override resistance almost entirely and for far longer,” Putner murmured, his voice slightly muffled by his mask. He held the dispenser up to the light, watching as the thick liquid settled within the chamber. “We’re not just lowering inhibitions anymore. This will begin to rewire the response at a fundamental level. Even for the pervs who resisted the original G-0-0-N compound.” 

Hadad chuckled, his fingers drumming against a sealed case of additional dispensers. “You always did enjoy taking things further than necessary, Deyton.” 

Putner shot him a look, unreadable behind the protective gear. 

“Necessary is relative. If we’re going to reshape behavior, we need more than momentary compliance. We need permanence. We also need submissions from those who are already monsters.” 

Harrington added, his voice even. “And you’re confident this will hold?” Putner exhaled through his mask, setting the dispenser aside. 

“There’s only one way to be certain.” 

Hadad leaned in slightly, his tone amused but curious. “You think this could work on anyone?” 

Putner's eyes glinted behind the mask. “Even someone like that Rothing fellow,” he said. “A man already teetering on the edge of his own bestial nature. If this batch works as intended, even he would have no resistance. The substance will dig even deeper into his mind, no matter how small and smooth it might be.” 

Harrington let out a small, knowing hum. “That would be something to see. I have a plan for a field test and someone who can report back the results.” 

“Brain scans of G-0-0-N subjects have also helped me identify a potential audio stimulant that doesn’t require chemical exposure at all, but I suppose that’s a discussion for later…”

A silence settled over the lab, thick with anticipation. The vials gleamed under the fluorescent glow, and the three men stood amidst their work, but the silence was broken by a loud rumbling fart. 

Putner shot Hadad a sharp look and the doctor flashed him a charming smile. “What? It was an awkward silence,” he laughed. “Besides,” he tapped his respirator. “None of us will smell it.” 

 “That’s it, Subject A20, take a deep, long sniff.” Harrington leaned back in his chair with his legs stretched out. His shoes and socks had been removed, letting his big feet air out. Subject A20, also known as Ethan Reynolds, knelt on the ground, in a bowing position, sniffing and kissing the Doctor’s feet. He wrapped his lips around one of the Doctor’s toes and suckled. 

“Subject A20, look at me.” Zombie-Ethan lifted his face, eyes crossed in towards his nose, drool dripping from the tongue hanging from the boy’s mouth. 

“What are you, Subject A20?” 

“Guuuuunnn…” Zombie-Ethan grunted stupidly. 

“That’s right, you’re a stupid goon fag,” Harrington affirmed. “I know I’ve helped you grow into a real man, but never forget who is above you.” 

The Doctor chuckled. He was starting to play with his Subjects more regularly, sometimes conversing with them as though they were anything more than cock-crazed zombies when he gooned them out. 

“Subject A20, my dumb little faggot, confirm how many times you have tried to expose G-0-0-N substance to your dumb friend with the big cock.”

Zombie-Ethan, his mouth stuffed with Harrington’s left foot, groaned. “Fooooor..”

Harrington tutted. “ Don’t fucking speak with your mouth full!” Harrington pulled his foot out of the drool mouth and kicked the zombie. “And no success? Not even with hormonal or audio catalyst. Hmm.”

Zombie-Ethan kneeled again, his big cock dripped with fluid. 

“Subject A20, I have big plans for you, so listen closely and commit these instructions to memory.” 

Zombie-Ethan sat up on his knees. Totally still. Attentive, even with the dumb look on his face. 

“In our last session, you mentioned a party…” 

…

This was Ethan’s third session without his father. Harrington had told Todd that he no longer required therapeutic intervention, that the man had discovered his truth. 

The first session Ethan attended alone consisted mostly of the boy complaining about how desperate and needy his father had gotten. On more than one occasion Ethan had woken up to his father slurping up and down his cock. On too many occasions to count, Todd had snuck into Ethan’s room or bathroom and waited with his ass up in the air. 

Harrington responded that Todd was now simply acting on his new nature, that when Ethan chose to take the domination ritual to the extreme on that fateful day in the woods, he had turned his father into the desperate cock-fag that now groveled for his son’s attention. 

In the same session, they had briefly discussed Ethan’s quest to cow his mom and dominate the household entirely. Ethan had informed the Doctor that he planned to act soon. 

Today, Ethan entered the fancy office, slightly distracted by a tangy taste on his lips and tongue. Taste like fucking gym shoes. He unbuttoned his pants and shirt and stripped them off. Standing only in his boxers, he laid them against the back of the leather couch and plopped down onto it. 

He had stopped his manic gym routine now that his competition with his father was over, but his thin body still showed signs of added definition. He moved one of the smaller sofas closer and propped his long, bare feet upon it. 

In the last two sessions, Harrington had told Ethan to “make himself at home,” and so he did. Ethan lifted his leg and ripped a fart just as the door opened and Harrington strolled in. 

The Doctor’s beard was freshly trimmed and his sharp undercut was touched up. 

“Ethan,” The Doctor called cheerfully before fanning the air in front of his nose. “Keep that up and we’re gonna open one of the windows.” 

Ethan remained seated, simply nodding. 

“I hope you’ve got some good news,” Harrington inquired with a raised eyebrow. He sat down on the couch beside the boy. 

“Oh, Felix, the best fucking news.” 

“Well, don’t keep me hanging.” 

“I thought maybe I could get some Sniff, first,” Ethan held out his hand. For a brief moment, a desperate glint shone in his eyes. 

“Oh, sure,” Harrington replied coolly. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small nasal device. The device contained a drug developed by one of Harrington’s associates, scientist Doctor Deyton Punter. 

Deyton was a bit of an oddball, but his drug, which Harrington had named Sniff, was potent. Harrington had let Ethan try it during their first solo session, and it was clear the boy was already craving it. Harrington handed the device to Ethan, who quickly shoved the tip into his nostril and pressed the release. 

The boy snorted the vapor and within only a few seconds his eyes dilated and his body relaxed. The boy’s massive cock, eight and a half inches, stiffened and tented his boxers. 

Another fart vibrated the couch and Ethan burst into a fit of laughter. The boy attempted to place the nozzle up his other nostril but Harrington grabbed his hand and took the inhaler away. 

“Ethan, I told you last time.” He leaned forward and set the inhaler on his desk. “If you take more than one hit, it will knock the sense out of you.” 

Ethan snorted a laugh and held his palms up in surrender. “Okay, doc.” 

“You said you had good news,” Harrington pried. 

“Oh, yeah,” Ethan slurred. “It happened, man. Finally fucking happened.” 

“You fucked her?” 

“Yup,” Ethan propped one arm behind his neck and leaned back. “Fucked her brains out.” Ethan pulled his cock through the fly of his boxers and stroked it. 

“Tell me all about it,” Harrington insisted. 

“Well, I was downstairs eating some cereal…” 

* 

Ethan shoveled the fruity cereal into his mouth, barely chewing it before gulping it down. SPLATTERGHOUL, the hottest game on the market, had released an update and he was aimlessly waiting for the download to finish. 

Todd was halfway watching the news, occasionally glancing over at his son. On the screen, a man who resembled an aging frat boy forced to put on a suit reviewed the headlines. 

“ Next, in health news, a groundbreaking development has emerged in the fight against sexually transmitted infections and diseases. Today, the FDA has approved and announced the full release of a new "miracle" drug known as AllGuard. This revolutionary medication offers complete protection against all known STIs and STDs, marking a significant milestone in public health.” 

Ethan’s mom, Helen, shuffled into the kitchen. Her nightgown was draped around her figure. She wasn’t exactly voluptuous but the modest curves she did have fit her body nicely. Her hair was brown and hung just above her shoulders. 

“Good morning, sweetie,” she yawned in Ethan’s direction, stopping to kiss him on the cheek before shuffling into the kitchen to get coffee brewing. 

“Oh, your sister said camp is, I quote, amazing, and she sends her love.” 

The news anchor continued, “Additionally, a variation of the drug, AllGuardMale+, has been introduced, designed to not only prevent STIs but also to increase sperm count and testosterone levels in men. With its widespread availability, experts anticipate a drastic reduction in transmission rates and a brighter future for global sexual health.” 

The coffee machine rumbled and sputtered. Helen walked to the living room. 

“Morning, Todd,” she said with no attempt to hide her annoyed tone. She sat down beside him, talking softly. Ethan couldn’t hear the conversation over the next story. 

“And in a truly astonishing turn of events, a decade-old mystery sees a miraculous resolution. The amateur teen documentarian who vanished in the forest in 2004 has been found alive. The discovery of the young filmmaker thought to be lost forever has astonished authorities and the public alike. As questions swirl about the circumstances of her disappearance and her unexpected return, we'll be following this extraordinary story closely as more details emerge.” 

Ethan watched Helen rub Todd’s shoulder. The man continued to sit rigid and uninterested. Ethan smirked knowingly. He hadn’t heard his mother’s moans in a while and when his father wasn’t following him around the house begging for cock, he was at work, taking overtime hours to shower Ethan with gifts. 

The machine beeped, and Helen headed back to the kitchen. 

The anchor’s annoying voice was beginning to grate on Ethan’s nerves. “Controversial alt-right influencer Hayleigh Burke, at the remarkable age of 19, has announced she’ll be taking a hiatus from social media following what she describes as a traumatic event. Burke, known for her provocative commentary and polarizing views, has garnered significant attention and success online, despite her young age. Her rapid rise to prominence has sparked both admiration and outrage, making her a central figure in today’s digital landscape.” 

Helen strolled past Ethan and he watched her ass jiggle under the thin robe. His cock stiffened, pressing against his pajama pants. His gaze followed his mom until she took the stairs and disappeared. An idea was forming in his mind and his smirk turned into a mischievous smile. 

The TV droned on. “However, the details surrounding her departure remain vague, with Burke citing the need for personal time to heal. Many speculate on the cause behind this sudden decision, given Burke’s history of stirring controversy. We’ll continue to monitor this story as it develops. Stay tuned as we delve deeper into these stories and bring you the latest updates throughout the evening. For Mars County News, I'm Michael Hawthorne. Thank you for joining us.” 

Ethan set his bowl down and walked to Todd. The man looked up at him with desperate eyes. 

“Meet me in my room, fag.” Ethan ordered. 

He turned away from his dad and trotted up the stairs to his room. 

…

On his TV screen, the progress bar for SPLATTERGHOUL read 60 minutes remaining. 

“Perfect,” he smirked again. 

Todd appeared at his door within seconds and slipped in. He closed the door behind him and fell to his knees, mouth wide open. 

“Fuck,” Ethan cursed. “Can’t you take fucking no for an answer?” Todd’s thick eyebrows drew together, his handsome face set with a cock-hungry determination. Ethan sat back on his bed. 

“Look, I’m gonna fuck mom and you’re about to help me do it.” 

Todd was steadfast. 

“I don’t think she’d ever do it voluntarily, so we need to get creative and sort of introduce her to it…” Ethan brainstormed. 

Silence. But for a moment—just a moment—Todd saw it all with sudden clarity. The thought of his wife being used by their son impaled on his massive cock was like waking from a fever dream, the haze in his mind lifted, and he saw himself. Saw what he had been turned into. Saw what he had done. And it was too much. The weight of it was suffocating, pressing down on him like an avalanche of shame and self-disgust. 

It wasn’t just what had been taken from him; it was what he had given away. Freely. Willingly. He had let himself be reshaped, redefined, made into less. A man would fight against that. A man would claw his way back, face the horror of his actions, and take back his control. But Todd couldn’t. Because facing it meant accepting it. And accepting it meant living with it. And he wasn’t strong enough for that. The thought of dragging himself back, of trying to piece himself together again, of living with the knowledge of what he had become. It was unbearable. He didn’t want to fight for himself. 

He wanted an escape. Harrington had given him that. Submission had given him that. The weight of responsibility, of thought, of self, all disappeared when he simply let go. And so, as the brief moment of clarity flickered and died, Todd made his choice. He let himself sink. He thought back on that day when he felt his son’s massive cock stretching his asshole to its limit. When his son’s hot rancid piss had baptized him and he was born new to the world. Todd let the haze creep back in, let the thoughts dull, let the comfort of not thinking wash over him like a warm tide of piss. He let himself believe, let himself follow, and let himself be less, because being less was easier. And as the last of his resistance crumbled, as the final piece of his old self was swallowed up by the nothingness, he felt nothing but relief. 

“I mean I could just rape her,” Ethan’s voice brought Todd back to the present. “For fucks sake, are you even listening to me? Look if you help me I might MIGHT let you suck my cock.” 

Todd stood up, brought fully out of his lapse of clarity. Now focused on only one thing, pleasing the man of the house. “What do you need me to do?” 

“It's obvious that mom’s desperate for some cock, so listen closely…” 

…

Ethan paced his room, his heart thudding and his cock aching. The fifteen-minute window he had given his father was almost up. 

“Here we fucking go,” he hyped himself up. 

He pushed his pajama pants off and stepped into the hallway naked. His cock, hard and heavy, bounced between his thighs as he crept towards his parents’ bedroom. Their door had been left open as ordered. As he drew closer the sound of fucking filled his ears. His cock throbbed. He peeked inside. 

Todd’s round muscular ass flexed as he thrust his cock into her pussy. Helen was ass up against the edge of the bed while her husband stood fucking her. Her face, blindfolded, was pressed into a pillow, muffling her moans and whimpers. Todd noticed his son at the door and with a relieved look pulled his cock out of the woman. 

“Gotta reposition,” he muttered to her. In response, she playfully wiggled her ass. 

“Take your time,” she huffed. “God, I’ve missed this.”

Todd stepped back and Ethan took his place. 

As confident as he had grown, Ethan nearly froze at the sight of his mom’s ass bent over in front of him. Her round cheeks were in the shape of a plump little heart. He reached out and rubbed her ass, feeling her push back against his hand. 

“Fuck me, honey.” She whined. “When can I take this mask off? What’s the surprise?”

Ethan spread her ass open. Her tight pink hole puckered and her shaven slit dripped with the juices of her arousal. Ethan tiptoed and ran his cock head along her cunt. His mouth fell open, and his eyes rolled back in his head. 

It was finally happening. Finally fucking happening. 

He pushed his hips forward and let his cock head push into her warm wet folds. 

“Mmmm,” Helen moaned into the pillow. “I’ve missed this.” She sighed again. 

Ethan gripped her hips and slowly slid his cock into her. 

“FUCK,” he mouthed silently at his father, who stood watching with a jealous look on his face. 

Ethan pushed into his mom’s tight pussy, and about halfway in she tensed up. 

“Todd?” Helen rose from the pillow. 

“Is that a toy? Is t-that the surprise?”

 “No-no, honey,” Todd leaned forward beside Ethan and spoke. “Just relax.” 

Helen put her face against the pillow. Ethan slid all the way inside his mom. His fat cock nudged her cervix, thick shaft bending. Her pussy walls stretched around his cock, gripping it in a wet heat. Ethan shook his head, trying to fight off the tightness already gathering in his balls. 

“Fuck, Todd,” Helen moaned. “It feels huge. Fuck me!” 

Ethan obeyed. He pulled his cock halfway out and then slammed it into her cunt over and over. Her round ass rippled with each slam of his skinny hips. Her pussy wetly sucked at his shaft. Occasionally she pushed her ass back against his thrusts, slamming his cock against her cervix. 

Ethan spread her cheeks again, watching his thick shaft spread the lips of her pussy taunt. His balls ached for release. He couldn’t believe it; he had such grandiose designs for this moment. Had planned to take her with force and tame her but instead, he was about to nut, like an excited schoolboy boning his first cunt. 

“Fuck, Todd,” she whimpered. “It’s never felt like-” her words were cut short by a yelp as her pussy squirted down her thighs. The bedroom echoed with wet, sloppy squelching and slapping. Her fluids splashed from Ethan’s flopping balls. Ethan bit his lip, fighting back his cum but the battle was lost. 

Without slowing his thrusts, Ethan moaned at the edge of eruption. “Fuck mom, here come your grandkids,” he grunted, falling against her back, his shaft pumping inside her. 

“What?” She raised her head and pulled the blindfold off. 

“ETHAN, what the fu-fu-fucccck!” The feeling of Ethan’s ejaculating cock brought her to another orgasm and her pussy squirted again. 

She fell forward, her stomach against the mattress and Ethan toppled onto her. She rolled out from under him, his cock plopping from her cunt and kneeled on the corner of the bed, covering her tits with one arm. 

Ethan shifted back against the headboard. Todd stood at the edge of the bed, his eyes locked on Ethan’s cock. 

Helen looked between her son and her husband. “What’s going on?” 

Ethan could see the way she looked at him now, not as a son, not as a boy, but as something more. Something greater. Something dangerous? And wasn’t this how it should have been all along? He had stepped into his rightful place, and there was no going back. But again, a flicker of some clarity after his orgasm. A different time, a different version of himself. Sitting at the kitchen table while she fussed over his bruises from practice. Her laughing at one of his dumb jokes. A hug after a hard loss. He remembered a warmth that had nothing to do with power, nothing to do with control. 

His stomach twisted, something almost like hesitation coiling deep inside him. This isn’t right. But before that thought could take hold, Doctor Harrington’s voice rang through his mind. "Nature doesn’t make mistakes," the doctor said. "Only weak men do." 

Ethan’s fingers curled into fists. Weakness had no place here. That young college guy, the one who needed comfort, who cared about right and wrong, he was dead. And good riddance. He had no use for him anymore. Harrington’s influence settled over him like a second skin, and with it, the doubt vanished. 

Ethan leaned into the moment, into what he had become, leaving the past behind. Ethan held his palms out as though calming a wild animal. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a looong time,” he shrugged. “So I did.” 

Helen’s face looked as though she was struggling to understand. She locked eyes with her husband. “Todd, you were in on this? Earth to Todd.” But she couldn’t break his concentration on Ethan’s cock. 

“I-I don’t know what to do-” Helen’s tone softened. She sounded lost. She rubbed her head. Tears streaming her eyes. 

“I can tell you what you did,” Ethan offered. “You just had the best orgasm of your fucking life.” His cock throbbed and he noticed the quick glance his mom shot at it. 

“Ethan…this…it can’t happen.” 

“It already has,” he motioned to her legs. “There's all the evidence you need.” 

She glanced down at the cum leaking from her wet folds.. She stood up off the bed. “I don’t feel…right.” She muttered. “I need to…go.” 

“Faggot,” Ethan ordered. “Don’t let her go anywhere.” 

Todd dashed towards his wife and grabbed her shoulders. 

“What the fuck, Todd.” She protested, trying to slap away his arms. 

“Mom, I need you to understand that the rules have changed.” Ethan slid off the bed and walked towards his struggling mother. “It’d be much easier if you just accepted that.” 

“I-I,” Helen attempted to articulate a thought. “You don’t have to say anything,” Ethan cooed. He walked up to her and gripped her round tits in each hand. “In fact, from there this day forward, there is only one thing your mouth is good for.” He pinched her nipples. 

Intuitively, Todd kicked the back of Helen’s legs and they fell out from under her. She collapsed, kneeling on the carpet. Ethan wiggled his hips, his cock only an inch from her face. 

“Think about what just happened. How good it felt. How wrong it feels right now, but in a way that makes you want it again.” 

“Please-” 

“Suck my cock, mom. You don’t have to deny your desires anymore. Your world has changed forever. For the better.” 

“I- won’t,” Helen stuttered, a defiant look in her eyes. 

Ethan nodded at his father, and the man reached down and roughly pulled his wife’s head back, squeezing her jaw until she opened her mouth. 

Ethan strolled forward and pushed his cock head between her lips. “If I feel any teeth at all, then it’s your fucking asshole I’ll be plowing instead.” 

Todd yanked a handful of hair, and she whimpered. Ethan took the opportunity to push half his cock into her mouth, feeling the back of her throat resist his cock head. “See how easy that feels?” Ethan closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “Now worship your new husband.” 

Helen kneeled, mouth full of cock and eyes streaming. Todd yanked her hair again. She bobbed her head slowly, sucking. 

“Fuck, Mom, you’re a natural slut.” 

Helen pushed a hand against her son’s flat stomach, trying to resist an assault on her throat. Her son's low-hanging balls reeked with a tangy musk. He pushed his hips forward, forcing his cock to intrude the back of her throat. 

Helen gagged and pulled her head back up the shaft. Tears in her eyes. 

“Not used to sucking such a massive cock,” Her son bragged. 

“Faggot,” he barked at his dad. “Help this slut swallow my dong.” 

Todd roughly grabbed Helen by the back of her head and pushed hard. Ethan felt his mom’s warm throat give way, its tight, wet walls slid over his cock until her nose was buried in his pubes. 

“You’re gonna need a lot more practice,” her son tutted. 

“Cuck, now help her throat this big dong.” 

Todd gripped his wife’s hair, pushing and pulling her face over his son’s cock. Helen’s body shook with gags and the wet gluck-gluck’ing sound of cock sucking filled the room. 

“Fuck,” Ethan moaned. Her throat sucked at his shaft, giving him perhaps the best head he’d ever received. “This is the life.” 

Helen, her mouth full of cock, was lost in thought. Her world had always been built on certainty. On knowing who she was, what she valued, and where the lines were drawn. But now, those lines were blurred, smudged by something she hadn’t expected, something that had been done to her. She should have been angry. She should have fought harder. But as the weight of the moment settled over her, a realization took shape. 

It wasn’t just what had happened. It was what it had awakened. The rational part of her mind screamed that this wasn’t her, that this wasn’t a road she had chosen to walk. Her son and husband had orchestrated this. Yet they were two of the three people she loved most dearly in this world. How could there be shame? A small part of her reminded her that her thoughts, at this moment, are raw from shock. And yet, deep inside, beneath all the layers of conditioning and expectation of what her life was and what it could be, was something else. 

A flicker of understanding, a recognition of something she had spent years refusing to name. Those stray curious thoughts about how big her son was getting. The pride. And, yes, the glances at a manhood that was obviously massive. The shift had already begun. And now, she had a choice. She could hold on to what was left of her resistance, cling to the idea that she was still the woman she had been before all of this. Or she could surrender to the knowledge that there was no true way back, only forward, but that it would still be with her beloved husband and son. 

Her hands trembled, gripping her thighs. Not with fear. Not even with revulsion. But with the sharp, undeniable clarity of a woman who had just seen herself—truly seen herself—for the first time. She exhaled, long and slow, over the intruding shaft. Then, she relaxed and opened her throat to the invading force. 

Todd worked his wife’s face over their son’s cock like a sex toy. He watched her eyes crossed, he was intimately familiar with her horny face and he knew she had finally given up on resistance. 

Todd released her hair and she throated her son’s massive shaft on her own. 

“Oh, damn,” Ethan teased. “Who knew my mom was a certified throat goat!” 

Helen let her son’s cock slide out of her mouth, its shaft dripped with thick ropes of spit. She gripped it in two hands and stroked it. Her tongue hung from her open mouth. Ethan lifted her chin with two fingers just to get a look at her stupid cross-eyed gaze. 

“Dickmotized,” he joked, looking over at his father and flexing his biceps. 

Over the squelching of his mom’s double-hand job, he heard his gaming system beep, indicating that his game was fully downloaded. 

Something in Ethan had truly cracked open. Or maybe it had been breaking for a long time, and now, finally, it was gone. The last shreds of hesitation, of doubt, of the young man he used to be, weakness disguised as humanity, snapped under the sheer weight of power. There was no need for second-guessing, no space for morality or restraint. Those were shackles designed to keep men small. 

His father had worn them. Most men did. But not him. Not anymore. His body felt right, heavy with purpose, filled with a raw, primal force that had always been there, just waiting to be unleashed. The feeling of his mom’s hands working themselves over his massive cock shaft was simply…right. He had wasted so much time pretending, playing by rules designed to keep him caged. 

But now, Harrington had helped him burn those rules to ash, and Ethan was free. He wasn’t a son. He wasn’t a student. He wasn’t just a man. He was dominance. He was power. He was a god. The boy was dead. The king had taken his throne. A deep, satisfied growl rumbled in Ethan’s chest. His smirk widened as he looked down at what was his. What he had claimed. What had always belonged to him. And he knew there was no turning back. 

“Let’s take this to my room, you can keep worshiping this cock while I play with the boys.” 

*

“Oh, shit,” Ethan slurred. His cock throbbed in his grip and gushed with cum. 

“Even the story of your conquest gets you going,” Harrington joked. “Sounds like it was quite literally a life-changing morning for you.” 

Ethan slung his hand, flinging his cum onto the floor. “It doesn't feel real, bro. I get pussy and head every day. I make my slut-mom stay naked and when we go to bed she knows she is gonna be woken up with my cock inside her at least three times before breakfast. It’s like I’m constantly horny.” 

“That’s because you’ve established your superiority, and she submitted, mind you, she gave in without any help from me.” For a moment, Harrington looked generally intrigued and a little surprised. 

“That’s fucking right.” 

“And your father?” 

“Still desperate for my cock,” Ethan rolled his eyes. “But the fag does have his uses.” 

“I’m proud of you,” Harrington patted Ethan on the back. 

“Couldn’t have done any of this without you.” 

“It was always inside of you,” Harrington leaned down and gripped Ethan’s cock playfully and squeezed it. “But, enough of this gay bro shit. Anything else going on in your life?” 

“Yeah, Coop’s party is next weekend,” Ethan slurred. 

“It’s like a five-year tradition at this point.” 

Harrington stood up and walked to the bookshelf. “I look forward to hearing all about it.” 

A hissing sound caught the Doctor’s attention, and he turned. Ethan held the Sniff device, shoved up into his nostril. His eyes crossed towards his nose and his mouth hung open. 

“Oh, Ethan…” Harrington tutted. “You dumb fucking goon.” He strolled over to the young man and snapped his fingers in his face. “I told you to slow down with that shit.” 

Ethan’s empty eyes gazed off into space, his hand worked ceaselessly up and down his cock, which had somehow hardened even more, leaving it slightly purple with arousal. His lulling tongue pooled drool. “Up and down…up and down…jerk the dong…” he muttered. 

Harrington strolled closer, tutting. “That’s the problem with you people, so repressed in your perversions that when you’re finally permitted to chase your hedonisms you have no fucking control.” He spat, and it landed on Ethan’s cheek and trailed down. “Fucking pig. Fucking loser.”

Ethan’s jerking didn’t stop. “Dong…up…down…stupid…gooner…” He moaned.

Harrington unbuttoned his pants and yanked his zipper. “If you’re going to be a mindless cock hound for the next hour,” Harrington grunted, pulling his fat, floppy cock from his fly. “I might as well put you to use,” he stood, straddling Ethan’s legs between his wide stance. His shadow fell on the young man stroking on the sofa. 

Ethan, mouth hanging wide, used his free hand to paw at Harringon’s heavy, soft cock. “Big…dong…”

“See how I’m in full control of my cock?” Harrington continued, enjoying his monologue even if it was falling upon the ears of a stupid brain brain-dead gooner. “I have corralled shame, perversion, and desire and muzzled them with control.” His cock twitched, growing plump. “They are free to hunt only when their lord calls them.” The thick, nine-inch, veiny cock throbbed swiftly. “I know the power of having a cock like yours, boy and I have mastered it, now, lean forward and worship me.”

Goon-Ethan obeyed. His drooling mouth wrapped around the Doctor’s cock. 

Harrington gave the gooner’s throat no time to adjust and pushed his cock deep into the throat. He fucked the goon-brained mouth with disgusted fury. “Fucking loser!” He grunted. He gripped a handful of the goon’s hair and yanked him up off his shaft. He drew back a hand and slapped the goon across the face with full force. The goon’s cheek reddened and its eye streamed with tears, swelling. 

“Pathetic!” He pulled the gaping mouth back over his throbbing cock and shoved it down the goon’s throat until its nose was buried in his pubes. “Disgusting.”

Harrington picked up his cellphone, fucking the pitiful goon’s throat savagaely. He thumbed a number into the screen and put the device to his ear.

A voice answered on the other side.

“The plan is in motion,” Harrington grunted. “I’m going to be busy for the next hour but let’s meet after that.”

The voice acknowledged and Harrington hung up the phone. 

He pulled the goon off his cock again, drool stringing his shaft, and kicked it. It tumbled to the ground. He bent and picked it up by a fistful of hair, dragging it up to his desk and throwing it across the shiny surface, pushing its face into a pile of papers. He positioned himself behind the goon, kicked its legs wide apart and gripped its skinny hips. He lined his cock up to its small ass cheeks and shoved forward. The goon screamed as the cock tore through its ring and stretched its second hole. The heat and pressure of the goon-hole spreading around his cock was even almost too much for him to handle. He threw back his head and laughed. His ass flexed under this tight pants and he thursted in and out…brutal and balls-deep.

It had happened quietly. No announcement. No arguments. No closed-door conversations.

One day, she was sleeping beside Todd in the master bedroom, and the next, Ethan was climbing into bed with her like he’d always belonged there.

At first, she’d felt something like resistance flutter in her chest. But it passed quickly, smothered by warmth, comfort, and something far more primal: certainty.

Todd never asked for the bed back.

He didn’t ask for her, either.

He had moved into Ethan’s old room without a word, taking only what he needed. His toiletries. His pillow. A drawer or two of clothes.

Ethan never offered him more.

And Helen—she never looked back.

Now, in the early mornings, it was Ethan’s arm draped across her waist, Ethan’s breath at the back of her neck, the slow rise and fall of his chest warming the space that had once belonged to her husband. And, every morning, it was Ethan’s big cock that invaded her holes and left her a stretched, whimpering mess. 

She rose before him. He slept gently, a chain around his neck with Todd’s old wedding ring hanging from it. In his sleep, he looked so sweet, so peaceful, like when he was little and used to fall asleep on long drives. It was hard to believe this was now the man she called her husband. 

She was careful not to wake him, padding into the bathroom to tidy her hair, swipe her lips with a touch of gloss, and lay out his towel for his morning shower. She didn’t call it a routine. It was a rhythm. One she moved through without thinking.

…

Downstairs, Todd stood near the stove in a thin white undershirt and gym shorts, flipping egg whites with quiet precision. He didn’t look at her when she entered. Didn’t speak until she cleared her throat.

“You make his toast yet?”

Todd nodded. “Yes. Light, with peanut butter. Like he asked.”

“Good.”

Ethan descended the stairs minutes later, naked, morning wood bouncing with each step. Helen felt her pulse rise at the sight of him, not out of shame, but anticipation. He leaned against the counter, kissed her cheek in passing, and reached for the coffee.

Todd stood still until Ethan gestured casually toward the table.

“Sit,” Ethan said. “You’re making me nervous hovering.”

Todd obeyed without a sound.

Helen turned her attention to Ethan’s plate, cutting his toast into halves, and wiping the rim of his glass of soda with a napkin. She set it all in front of him like it was sacred.

She sat beside him. Not across.

…

That afternoon, she found Todd folding Ethan’s laundry in the corner of the living room. His hands moved with care—almost reverence—but he didn’t look up when she passed.

She paused.

“You missed a pair,” she said gently, pointing to a pair of boxer briefs at the edge of the couch cushion.

Todd blushed and picked them up, folding them silently. He wore no pants or underwear and his cock was stiff. 

…

One evening, she passed the bathroom and caught Todd deep cleaning. He was naked, his thick body dappled in sweat as he scrubbed. He stood up and raised an eyebrow when she caught sight of a small black cage locked over his cock. He looked at her but didn’t seem to notice anything beyond whatever chores Ethan had assigned him for the day. He bent over the tub and sprayed some cleaning, and she caught a glimpse of a plug shoved deep between his hairy cheeks. It was stuffed with a pink stone. 

That’s when it clicked: somewhere along the way, she’d stopped resisting and started arranging herself inside their game. The rules had been unspoken, but she’d followed them anyway, rewarding Ethan’s quiet dominance and indulging Todd’s slow collapse. She told herself it was for the family. Stability. Peace. But the truth was more complicated. There was a thrill in it, a private ache that had nothing to do with duty and everything to do with what pulsed underneath it. And as she closed the bedroom door behind her, Helen accepted something she’d tried for a week not to name: maybe she wasn’t quite the good woman she thought she was. And maybe that, too, had always been inevitable.

And now, with the pregnancy test still tucked in the back of her dresser drawer, the line turning faintly pink, it all felt terrifyingly complete.

…

The morning light filtered through the Reynolds’ kitchen blinds in narrow slats, striping the table like a cage. The soft clink of cutlery against ceramic was the only sound. Helen sat silently at the end of the table, her hands folded neatly, coffee steaming in front of her. Her face was unreadable, serene, and distant, like she’d found peace in something awful and unshakable.

Todd stood at the threshold to the kitchen, frozen.

He already wore the clothes he’d picked out for work: ironed slacks, a tucked shirt, a tie dangling limp around his neck like a noose waiting to be tightened. His hair was combed, his face shaved, except for his thick mustache. On the outside, he was a convincing illusion of the man of the house. Of a man put together. If one didn’t pay close attention to the crusty stains all over his clothes.

But Ethan hadn’t come down yet.

Helen didn’t greet him. She didn’t even look at him. She just waited, fingers tracing the rim of her mug, her gaze anchored on the hallway behind him. Like clockwork, the steps came.

Ethan strolled into the room without a word, barefoot, shirtless, and relaxed in a way that only comes from total certainty. He carried the air of someone who didn’t need to speak to be heard, whose presence bent the room without effort.

He passed his mother without acknowledging her and stopped in front of his father. Just inches between them. Close enough that Todd could feel his breath.

“You know what to do,” Ethan murmured, voice low and intimate.

Todd’s mouth opened automatically. “Good morning, sir,” he said.

Ethan raised a brow.

Todd’s throat bobbed. His shoulders dropped. He started again, softer. “Good morning, Father.”

Ethan had started calling Todd “son” and “boy.”

Still not enough.

Ethan leaned forward, his tone lazy and laced with amusement. “Beg.”

Todd swallowed again. His lips parted, stammering uselessly before the words came.

“Please… please let me start the day properly, Dad.”

Ethan considered him, then slowly nodded toward the center of the kitchen. “On your knees.”

Todd obeyed. He was slow but practiced. His knees touched the cool tile with a familiarity that spoke to repetition. He looked up, eyes dull and waiting. Open.

Ethan undid the front of his pants with one hand, as casually as scratching an itch. He freed his heavy, floppy cock and squeezed it until it hardened. He spat in his hand and stroked his shaft. 

Helen didn’t flinch. She watched without blinking, sipping her coffee like this was just another part of the morning routine, the way some women watched their husbands pack lunches, or their sons grab toast on the way to school. Her face held neither shock nor disapproval. Just quiet understanding.

Ethab’s grunt broke the silence. Todd shivered as his son’s cum sprayed his face. A slow, humiliating warmth spread across his cheek and neck.

Ethan stepped back and tucked himself away, indifferent. He reached for a banana on the counter and peeled it while walking toward the table. Todd still knelt, breathing shallowly, his tie stained from a week‘s worth of Ethan’s pre-work cum tags.

Helen finally moved. She motioned Ethan over and pulled him down towards her. Their lips met and they kissed deeply. Their tongues slipped around each other's mouths. 

Todd watched them kiss. A bulge pressed against his work pants. Ethan’s cooling load dripped down from his cheek and onto the shoulder of his shirt, adding to a crusty collection. Todd would wear the stains all day, proud of them. He had heard mutterings at work, but no one had confronted him yet.

Ethan sat down at the head of the table. “You can go now, faggot” he said.

Todd nodded, stood up, and left the kitchen.

Helen spread her legs and threw open her robe, showing off her perky tits and a pussy adorned with a well-maintained bush. “You hungry this morning, hubby?” she asked.

Ethan grinned. He slid off his chair and shuffled on his knees until he was kneeling in front of his mom. He leaned in and gently ran his tongue through the slit of her folds, letting it circle her hard, little clit. He felt her shiver. He looked up at her. 

“Eat me,” she begged. 

“You think you’ve earned it?”

“Please.” 

Ethan pushed his face into her cunt and slid his tongue through her dewy groove. He lapped, tongue wide, and then pushed it between her folds. She tasted almost sweet. He wiggled his buried tongue. 

Helen whimpered. The sight of the back of her son’s head between her legs made her feel perverted but the sensation was overwhelming. “Fuck, baby.” She purred.

Ethan slid his tongue out of her cunt and swallowed her sweet juices. He let the tip find her clit again and swirled around it.

Helen’s phone buzzed. The screen lit up with the name BETH and showed a pic of Ethan’s sister. She had the same big eyes, and her round face was surrounded by a curtain of dark hair. 

“Answer it,” Ethan ordered. 

Helen lifted the phone to her ear and whimpered. “H-hello?”

“Put it on speaker.”

Helen pushed the speaker button. His sister’s voice echoed around the kitchen. “Hey, Mom. Sorry to call so early but reception has been terrible here.” 

“I’m always happy to hear from you,” Helen cooed. 

Ethan latched his mouth onto his mom’s clit and suckled. 

“OH GOD!” She moaned.

“Mom,” Beth gasped. “Are you okay? What happened?” 

“S-sorry, honey.” Helen whimpered. “Just burnt my hand on my coffee.” 

“Oh, well, I didn’t need anything. Camp is okay this year. Terry is being a jerk like usual-”

“Mmmmm,” Helen’s moan interrupted. Ethan’s hands had pried her cunt wide and he lapped the tender flesh under her folds. 

“Do you need to go?” Beth’s voice was concerned. 

Ethan’s tongue lowered, exploring her taint and teasing the edge of her hole.

“No, no,” Helen huffed. “You’re brother’s taking care of it.”

“Your burn?”

He ran his tongue back up to her clit and wiggled it. Her cunt leaked, pooling on the chair and dripping over the edge. 

“Y-yeah,” Helen’s eyes rolled back in her head. “T-tell me about Terry. W-what did he do this time?”

“Just his usual pervy stuff,” Beth huffed. “He drilled a hole in the shower house wall before we all got there.”

Ethan slid two fingers into his mom’s dripping cunt while his tongue abused her clit. 

“Sooo good,” she said, her mind confused by pleasure. 

“Good?” Beth asked aghast. “What are you talking about? You’re being weird. Are you okay?”

SQUELCH SQUELCH. Ethan’s fingers plowed her fleshly cunt. 

“Yeah, I’m just a little out of it.” 

“Are you sure?”

Ethan leaned up and barked. “Lower the phone. Let me talk to her.”

Helen lowered the phone to her pussy. 

“Yo, Beth,” Ethan said.

“Ethan? Ummm, hey, what’s going on?” 

“Mom’s just a little distracted,” he lowered his face and licked her dripping pussy, it made a very wet squleching and slurpping sound. 

“What’s that?”

“Sorry, sis, just having a very juicy breakfast.” Ethan slurped Helen’s cunt, sucking her clit. 

SQUELCH SQUELCH. 

“Mom’s okay, right?” Beth asked.

As if on cue, Helen whimpered.

Ethan rose, putting his dripping face close to the phone screen. “Oh yeah, she’s fine. Like I said. She’s just preoccupied.” He stood up and grabbed the phone from his mom’s hand. He motioned to the bulge in his pants. A big stain of precum spread over the fabric. “Fucking suck it.” 

“What? Who are you talking to?”

Helen leaned forward and pulled his pants down, freeing her son’s massive dong. Without hesitation, she took it into her mouth. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and worked her mouth up and down his shaft.  He ignored his sister’s question.

“So, that Terry dude is at it again. What a legend?” He huffed. The back of Helen’s throat gave way and his cock pressed between the tight walls of her esophagus. 

“Ew, I’m so over even talking about that freak,” Beth pouted. 

Helen’s nose buried itself in her son’s bush. Her eyes bulged. Her body rocked with a muffled gag, spit spewing from her taunt lips wrapped around Ethan’s throbbing shaft. 

“What was that?” Beth’s tone seemed annoyed now.

“Mom just choked on her breakfast a little,” Ethan teased. He wrapped her hair around his knuckles and smashed her face up and down his shaft. 

GLUCK-GLUCK-GLUCK

“Mmmm, fuck yeah.” Ethan sighed. 

“Okay, Ethan, what the hell?” His sister growled. Ethan’s eyebrows raised. “Hell” was quite the curse for her. 

“Look,” His voice turned icy. His mom’s mouth was hardly more than a fleshy toy . He yanked it up and down his shaft. GLUCK-GLUCK-GLUCK. “We’re trying to enjoy a nice morning.” He considered sending her a video invite, thumb hovering over the icon. “You can keep interrupting that, and I’ll put you on video call, or maybe you can just call back later. Your choice.” Without the offer felt clear. The threat obvious. 

Beth hesitated. “Um, I’ll just call back later.”

“Well, you just hang up whenever you want,” Ethan lowered the phone to his cock. The mic filled with the wet sucking. “Fuck, Mom, keep going I’m about to nut…”

The line beeped. Beth had hung up. 

Ethan smirked. He thought about the shocked look that must have been on her face. His mind wondered if the exchange had even made her a little horny. He thought about her kneeling in front of him. About her pussy, which he hadn’t seen in years. His nuts ached and he slammed his cock balls-deep into his mom’s face. His shaft throbbed and pumped away. 

“FUCCCCCK!” His moan echoed around the quiet kitchen.