Date: Sun, 5 Dec 2010 08:09:42 -0800 (PST) From: Vincent Vincent Subject: Fagboy & Fagdad - Part 21 First, the disclaimers. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, Copyright 2010. The narrative that follows did not happen to me or to anyone else I know. The characters in the story, like myself, are all of legal age. Don't contact Me to meet these slaves. DO contact Me if you want to become one of these slaves. Also contact me with any praise, criticism, or suggestions. All feedback is good. Fagboy & Fagdad - Part 21 Things weren't right. Tyler could tell just from the walk into his office. There was a lot of whispered chatter going around. As soon as he turned a corner, it would stop. Nobody returned his hello or even looked him in the eye. None of the sales staff, nobody in the back offices where he worked. Not a soul. He closed the door of his office and sat at his deck. Turned on his PC and checked his email. "Fagboy & fagdad: cumming soon to serve you" Oh Jesus, no. Tyler looked at the to/from info. Came from his home account in the middle of the night. And sent out to every employee of the dealership. Everyone. Tyler's guts started to cramp. He wanted to run out the door. No. He wanted to find a hole in the floor to crawl into and escape home without anyone seeing him. The email included a Power Point presentation. Tyler clicked it. There was a knock at his door. Tyler started to tell whoever it was not to come in, but the door opened before he could catch his voice. It was Buck Thompson. As in Buck Thompson Chevrolet. The owner of the dealership. Right behind them were his brother Frank and his son, Buck Jr. They closed the door behind them. Buck walked up to Tyler's desk, glaring down at him. "Was this your subtle way of giving notice or something? `Cuz that's exactly what you've done. You're walking out of here with us. What the fuck were you thinking?" Tyler sat silently, not knowing what there was he could possibly say. The Power Point show started, playing some stripper music and showing the photos of him that were on the Craigslist ad. Him with cum all over his face, him in the nylons and apron, him on his knees .... The three Thompsons surrounded him. Buck and Frank to each side, and Buck Jr. In front of him across the desk. Everyone watching the "show". The photos faded out and a video ran. A repeating loop of the few seconds of his and Ryan's 69. The curtain between them had been raised, the lights were on, but neither had yet backed off to see who it was they were sucking off. It looked like the two of them had agreed to it from the beginning. Moaning, grunting, shooting down each other's throats. "What kind of fucking pervert are you?" Frank asked. Tyler stumbled through some sort of explanation. "We didn't know..." "You didn't know what??? You didn't know how disgusting this is? Jesus fucking Christ, Tyler. You're just fucking lucky that although we just hired a bunch of high school guys to intern in the garage, their email addresses hadn't made it to the master file yet. Or else you'd be up to your ass in lawsuits." Buck Jr. looked like he was about to punch Tyler. "We didn't know it was each other...." "Yeah, right. Sure. It makes perfect sense how two guys would be naked and sucking each other off without knowing who the other guy was. Happens all the fucking time. And I suppose you didn't know whose face... aw, fuck, man, I can't even talk about it. " Buck just stared down at Tyler with look of hatred and disgust that made him cringe. The video faded into a new one ... the one Duncan had taken of him and Ryan licking the fratboys' cum off each other's faces. "It's your fucking SON, for chrisssakes. What kind of pervert are you? I mean, hell, we have no problem with gays working here. But this shit gives queers a bad name. I wouldn't be surprised if they cornered you and beat you to a pulp. You got no friends here, Tyler. Oh, Jesus ..." This video was the full length. Now Tyler and Ryan were snowballing the fratboys' loads between their open mouths. "...your fucking son. I know he's in college now, but, shit, man, what did you fucking do to him to make him such a freak? What kind of pathetic excuse for a father were you?" Tyler turned beet red as the video faded into another looped short .... Yes ... last night in the cell. Tyler's 8 minutes to cum. Him stroking his meat as Ryan is bound, legs spread apart, hole gaping, begging Tyler to fuck him. Tyler sobbed out, "I couldn't ...." Buck spun Tyler's chair around to face him. "The fuck you couldn't. You did. You fucked your fucking son. Probably did it his entire life. Jesus, and now you're selling him ... and yourself ... online. You are the fucking lowest of the low. There's just no name for it, you freak." Buck punched him in the gut. Tyler's cock throbbed in response; "what the fuck was -that-?" he thought. "This can't be turning me on, can it? Frank calmed Buck down. "Listen, we don't want to give this fucking piece of shit any reason to take us to court. But look, Tyler,", he added, spinning his chair to face him, "I hope your new `day job' works out for you, because you're certainly not welcome here ever again. I want to punch your fucking brains out. All three of us do. But because we're real men, not some asswipe like you, we're going to contain our anger. I'm going to spend lunch at the gym and take it out on some gear. Find a punching bag and make it your faggot face. And if I ever, EVER, see you on the streets, you fucking pervert, I'm not making any promises at all. YOU FUCKING GOT THE MESSAGE?" Tyler nodded his head, knowing there wasn't anything he could possibly say. His cock noticed, even if the rest of him didn't, how much he wished he were their punching bag. Buck Jr., head of personnel, chimed in. "Just so you know, shithead, you just wasted twelve years of your shit-stained life. Don't you fucking dare put this place on a resumé. Anyone who calls here for a reference is sure as shit not going to hire your sorry ass. I fucking guarantee it. You wrote yourself a one-way ticket with this presentation. "The three of us worked out how we want to thank you for all your years of hard work. You sure as shit don't deserve a golden watch," Buck Jr. sneered as all three of them unzipped their flies, "but we think we found you the perfect parting gift." All three Thompsons simultaneously pissed all over Tyler, his chair, and his desk. Tyler just sat there, feeling small, worthless, and pathetic. A non-man being pissed on, being marked, by Men. This was exactly what he deserved. No This was exactly what he begged for. His Master had granted his wish. He would no longer have any distraction from being Alexi's bitchslave. His fagdad. Tyler opened his mouth and swallowed. "Holy fuck. The queerhole is swallowing our piss! What the fuck kind of pathetic subhuman trash are you???" Tyler gulped and opened wider, watching these Men aim right into its sewer-throat, knowing this kind of humiliation would only happen once. One of the Thompsons pushed the back of the fagdad's head onto the desk. "Jesus, why don't you just slurp it up off the desk? You're a fucking urinal!" The three of Them poured Their streams over the back of his head, flowing onto the desk where the fagdad loudly slurped it up. "I bet this cocksucker would beg to suck us off..." "Please, Sirs ..." "Aw, come on, man. Seriously??? Don't you have ANY shame? The last thing I want to do is put MY dick between the lips of such a twisted whore." Frank and Buck Sr. lifted the fagdad out of his chair and pushed him over his piss-soaked desk and onto the floor. Buck Jr. stood to the side and kicked him forward. "Get the fuck out of here. And don't let any of us see you ever again." The fagdad started to stand, but Buck Jr. kicked him back into place. "No fucking way. Everyone in this company wants to see you crawl out of here like the pathetic asswipe you are." The fagdad looked up at Him. The contempt on His face was His answer. The fagdad opened the door and crawled on his knees out of his office, dripping of piss. The hallways were lined with the Men of the dealership: sales, mechanic, maintenance ... all sneering at him as he worked his way out of the building. "Faggot." "Pervert." "Asswipe." A few of the Men spat on him as he crawled past them. The women sat in the background, shaking their heads, comfortable that Tyler was getting his justice. Yes. Just what he deserved. The fagdad got a kick in the ass as he crawled out the door. A loud cheer swelled up as the door closed behind him. And there was his car. Somebody, one of the mechanics probably, had spray painted it. "FAGDAD" in bright pink all the way down the side of the car. And on the hood. Probably all over the other side as well. The fagdad crawled into the car, turned the ignition, and drove home, sobbing along the way. Every time he thought he'd reached as low as he ever could, Master found someplace new to go. Finding an ever more profound way to strip him of whatever made a Man a Man. He, no ... it got home and crawled in the door. Alexi, Master, was at His desk, smiling at the crawling slave. "Hey there. I did as I was asked. Come suck My dick to show some thanks." The fagdad, the bitch who would never be known as Tyler again, crawled up to its Master and worshiped His cock in humble gratitude.