Date: Fri, 2 Jun 2017 20:52:14 -0700 From: Boy Mercury X Subject: Full Fathom Five, Part Four This story is an entirely fictional work of adult erotic fantasy, involving consensual sexual relations between related persons. PLEASE NOTE: This particular story includes disturbing plot and theme elements including manipulation, coercion and worse. Copyright me 2017. If you're under the age of majority in your jurisdiction, please come back when you're of legal age. If you'd like a soundtrack for this story, please consider Blind by Hercules & Love Affair, and Beautiful by Blowoff. Nifty is free service that depends on your donations to survive. Please help them to keep providing this awesome resource for all of us by giving at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html I love to hear from readers at boymercuryx@gmail.com You can find my tumblr at http://boymercuryx.tumblr.com/ FULL FATHOM FIVE, ACT THREE FOUR by Boy Mercury X 1. I awoke so deeply disoriented I needed to reconstruct how I'd come to be in this situation. My stepfather Tony and I had come to the island compound that belonged to the Algiers group, the sex trafficking ring that held my father for the last five years. The owner, or operator, or whatever he was -- Mr. Sparrow -- met us, with my father as his personal sex slave, his mind wiped and now just a body for the use of others. Then it came back to me that Tony had betrayed me. He used my Dad, right in front of me, and as the drugged drink brought me down he said I was fucked. I took in my surroundings: a cell, clean and comfortable, with a bed, a chair, a small table and a door with a pass-through and a sophisticated looking lock. I didn't know how long I was out. But I wore the same clothes I arrived in, and didn't feel starving hungry just a little gnawing my stomach, so I assumed it was overnight. I stayed on the bed, feeling certain the lock would be active, but also needing to understand the situation better before making a move. What that move might be I had no idea. Before long, both Tony and Mr. Sparrow arrived with two bodyguards, one of whom carried in a tray of food. Although Sparrow was older, maybe in his 60s, he was tall and broad and formidable and probably didn't need much guarding. "Good morning, young Mister Miranda," said Sparrow. "What the fuck is this?" I asked. "Kid, I told you to accept your dad was dead and move on," said Tony. "You had to fucking keep digging." "Tony?" I asked, praying this was some sort of triple agent situation and any second now he'd pull out a gun, shoot the bodyguards and Sparrow and take me and Dad back home. "Let's get this over with," he said, "I turned your dad over to Algiers, way back 5 years ago. The operation going down was me. It was all me. Good news for you is your little faggot kiss and confession didn't mess him up. I did. So you can let go of that." I was sure I must have still been dreaming. None of this could be real. "Mister Miranda," said Sparrow, "this will be an adjustment for you. If you will allow me a brief exposition, I will orient you to your new life. "As you know, your father was born into our breeding pens for a life of servitude, but was liberated in his youth. As you may have gathered, I am something of a perfectionist, and so you can imagine my delight with the prospect of reversing the error, returning him to his proper position." "Why?" I asked, "Why is my father so important?" "Individually he is not. He is less than nothing, a beast without a name. Even the simple offense of his liberation is not consequential enough to alter that, as in every business there are gains and losses. "Your father, however, was not satisfied to be freed. He sought to return to us, to strike against Algiers, to end us. And that, that, Mr. Miranda, cannot be tolerated. In fact, it is an occasion for a singular demonstration of our dissatisfaction and our will to retaliate with singular purpose. "To that end, his mind is broken and he will live out his days in the most base form of servitude, his body well cared for with only the purpose of making it a source of sexual pleasure for his betters, for as long as it is fit to do so. He is less now than even a meager slave, with no quarter left in body or mind that is not my possession. "Not only this, Mister Miranda, but so all in Algiers will know the consequence of striking against us, all the generations of his line, from this day to eternity, will live thusly. All of his line, Mister Miranda, which must include you. "Me?" I asked. "Why punish me?" "Of course the accident of your lineage is not your fault," Sparrow said, "It was your father's unsanctioned breeding of you that is at fault. If you look at it in another light, you are not being punished, merely returned to where you should have been since birth." 2. Sparrow held a staff or walking cane in his hand, and he tapped it against the wall opposite the bed where I sat. The entire wall lifted, to reveal a thick floor to ceiling clear glass. On the other side was my father, facing us, in a horror contraption. He was fastened in a chair, completely naked. A leather blindfold covered his eyes, and his throat, wrists, elbows, thighs and ankles were secured. Most terribly, a device covered his genitals, pumping like a cow milking machine, connecting to a catheter tube that ran from the pump to a container. As the machine pumped he sometimes squirmed, his hips trying to thrust but with no leverage unable to do much. "Dad!" I yelled, and ran to hit the glass wall with my fist, but he registered no awareness of anything but the device sucking at him. It pumped until he was clearly climaxing, making guttural noises, thrusting as much as he could in his confinement, as the device sucked the cum out of him. Sparrow watched my stunned reaction, then turned and left my room. I glared at Tony, who didn't look displeased at all. I couldn't help but think of all the times he made me blow him, the time he fucked me, how everything he said was a lie. "You shit fucking pig," I muttered to him. He just laughed and rolled his eyes. Then Sparrow re-appeared on the other side of the wall, next to Dad. He gently removed the pumping device from Dad, and then the restraining straps one by one. He left the blindfold on. Dad's posture eased, and he relaxed into the chair, covered in perspiration and breathing hard. But I could see he wasn't there, this was just a body waiting to be used. "He is conditioned," said Sparrow, "to treasure semen above all, to seek it from others, and to resist the taking of his. The very act of greatest pleasure has become for your father, most excruciating. "As I told you moments ago, we have left no quarter of his mind or body. Even a base slave may enjoy his own orgasm most often, but not so your father." "What the hell did you do to him," I asked. Sparrow chuckled. He took my father's head in his hands and tapped his temple with two fingers. "As your bard would say, Hell is empty, and all the devils are here." 3. "Even at your age," said Sparrow, "you must know it is possible to break a man. Algiers has always had methods, which have advanced with our understanding of biology and psychology. "We still have crude methods including sensory and sleep deprivation, positive and negative reinforcement, sexual stimulation, pain and reward. And to be sure, we used all of these on your father. But we also have very sophisticated neurotoxins developed by one of our scientists -- a witch, I'm tempted to say, so magical are the effects of her creation. "But your father is also a special case, in that he came to us broken from the circumstance of his childhood. He was conditioned very early to mirror the desires of others for his own survival. In our custody he learned to please his masters and our clients. In foster care he worked to please his guardians who he saw as his new masters. He mirrored the expectations of his adoptive parents. He mirrored the desire of his wife, your mother. He mirrored the expectations of the agency when they believed he would be an ideal agent. "His mirroring was so effective and thorough that this core deficiency was not detected even in his recruitment and screening in your armed and intelligence forces. It is impressive, is it not? He could have gone on this way for the rest of his life, had he not been returned to our custody and our purposes. You might have even turned him to mirror your own lust for him."
 I was surprised he knew about that. "Your kiss did something else, however," Sparrow continued, "In your father's fractured psyche, each trauma is recorded as a break. I would say a skip in a music album, but you may be too young for the reference. Perhaps you could say a `save' as in an electronic document. You created a saved version of your father at that moment, and we have built something around that to contain him. "You will have heard that no man is an island. This is a comforting lie. The truth is every man is an island. And in your father's case, we have confined him at the moment of your kiss, your desire for him, in a mental construct of our design -- let's call it a White Cell, white being the absence of all colors in most of our lives, absent hope, absent of will. It is the blank white of relentless despair. "So there is, in your father's mind, a White Cell, where his small self exists, locked away while his body is used. He is aware of everything around him, but is helpless to do anything but satisfy others desires. Every time his body is used gives him a sense of safety, of comfort in the White Cell. At the same time, his self-degradation reinforces the White Cell. Do you see? The only thing that comforts him imprisons him. It is an ingenious device." I couldn't even feel the tears continuously streaming down my face. "It took two years to achieve this," Sparrow continued, "you may be pleased to know your father fought vigorously, despite his early conditioning to please his masters. We did not know, for some time, the source of this -- this saved moment, if you will. This surprised us and made our work more difficult, but in the end all walls will fall, as did your father's." "How did you do this to him?" I asked, to no one. "You're the one who did it, Will," said Tony, shrugging. "What the fuck do you mean?" "Like Sparrow said, it took most of two years to get him like this," said Tony. "We told him I was fucking your mother, that he was forgotten. But the stuff that really got him was the shit you told me. "All those stories only the two of you knew? Riptides and Houdini and shit? That got to him. Figured you gave him up, otherwise how would we know? "But the big shit, kid, that you kissed him that night, that was dynamite. He folded like a beat dog when we told him about that. And Sparrow locked him up right there. "You arrogant fucking shit, you thought you were using me, thought you were smarter than me. Just like your fucking old man, but look at him now and look at me and tell me who's smarter." I didn't look, but just slumped on the floor, muttering no, no, no. Everything I had done to try to find him had only been used to hurt him. I cried till everything went black. 3. The next morning, I think the next day, based on meals, Tony was back, but on the other side of the glass in Dad's cell. He pounded twice on the dividing glass with his fist, so I'd look at him. "You stupid fucking prick," he said to me. "You could have had it all if you just listened to me. But you had to have it your way, just like your stupid old man here." "Fuck you," I replied. I didn't know what Tony could do to me here, but I seemed to be under some kind of protection so far, so I felt bold. "No man, not fuck me. Fuck him," Tony said, jerking his thumb to Dad, who was lying curled up in his bed. Tony stripped, and his cock was hard. "Wakey wakey Calvin," he said. "Face down, ass up." Dad did as instructed, rising up to comply. Seeing them both there naked they looked so different -- Dad so slim and muscled and dark, Tony so stocky and strong and blonde. "What are you doing?" I asked, realizing I wasn't Tony's only target if provoked. "Don't worry kid," he said, "Sparrow'll have my hide if I do any permanent damage to his prize over here. Doesn't mean I can't tan his hide a little." He picked up a bottle of what I suppose was some kind of lube, and poured it over his cock, spreading it with his hand. He then climbed up in the bed and positioned himself behind Dad, who as instructed was face down and ass up. "You deserve this Calvin," he said. He plunged his cock into Dad, who gasped from the shock of it, and Tony inhaled deeply. "Fuck, I have wanted to do this for a long fucking time," said Tony. He started ramming Dad hard, no slow start, just a gut pounding. "Calvin, Sparrow says you can hear me in there, that you know everything," said Tony, while Dad moaned. "Here's what I want you to know, pal," continued Tony, while he pummeled Dad, "I'm fucking you, pal. My big cock is right up your shit hole and you are loving it. "Feel that? I hope it feels like Hell. You earned it with your fucking smug superiority." Tony groped at Dad's body, not hard enough to leave lasting marks, but hard enough to hurt. "Leave him alone!" I shouted, and hit the glass with my own fists. "Calvin," he continued, "Listen, I married your fucking wife, and I fuck her just like this. And she purrs like a cat, just like a fucking pussycat. But that's not all, I banged your son too, I took his ass cherry, and when I did he said `oh fuck me Daddy, fuck me' just like a little cunt. Calvin he loves my dick so much he blows me every chance he gets, swallows it right down too. Now I know where he fucking gets it." "SHUT UP!" I was yelling, crying and trying to not feel my own erection. "Dad, don't listen! He's a liar!" At that, Tony stopped. He pulled out of Dad and told him to get on his back. Then he came to face me, just on the other side of the glass. "You fucking shit," he said, "Not one word I said was a lie. NOT ONE WORD. Now you tell your old man the truth. You tell him, or I take it out on him. You accuse me of lying again, I take it out on him. And kid, I have photos I'm happy to share with old Calvin here. So tell him before you make things worse." I was choking on my own mucous from crying so hard, but yelled out "Dad - it's all true. Everything Tony said was true." I slid down the glass in a heap of tears and sobs. Tony pulled Dad's legs up over his shoulders and plunged back into his ass. "Calvin," he said, "I forgot one thing. I live in your house, the one your parents left you. The ones who adopted you, not the whore whose snatch got pregnant from some sleazy trick. Calvin, I'm gonna' burn it when I get back. I'm gonna' burn it to the ground." Then he said "Calvin, how's that feel? If you love this -- if you love me -- give me a kiss." Dad opened his mouth and Tony thrust his tongue in, kissing Dad as hard as he fucked him. I remembered how much he liked kissing after a blowjob, and he was so into kissing Dad. Then Tony pulled back and said "Let's finish this up." Dad moaned louder at Tony's next slam, and I could tell Tony was going to cum by his frenzied fuck. Tony threw all his strength into reaming Dad's ass, then said "Fuck, oh fuuuuck!" and his whole body shook as he came deep in Dad's bowel. He quivered and pumped what he had into Dad, and then pulled out. "Calvin, clean my dick off," he said, and Dad dutifully went down on him, sucking everything off. Tony left, and Dad curled up in his bed again. He must have leaked Tony's cum there. "I'm sorry Dad," I said through the glass. "I don't know if you can really hear me or not, but if you can I'm sorry. I made a lot of mistakes while you were gone. I'm so sorry." And we sat on either side of our shared glass wall in silence. 4. The days stretched on, and I was tended to almost as well as Dad, in the cell opposite mine. We were fed, groomed, exercised in outer areas with state of the art equipment. In our comings and goings I saw glimpses of other young men and women, slaves or the indentured. But we were kept apart from them, and apart from each other, except that which I could see through our glass divider. I was surprised that so far I was not used sexually in some way. In fact Mr. Sparrow seemed to take an almost tutorial interest in me, but every lesson ended in the same hopeless place. He walked me through the grounds of the complex on a rainy Pacific Northwest day. Outdoors it was almost silent but for the steady rain and the sound of our footsteps. For the home to a pit of despair it was surreal in its tranquility. He showed me the barracks for his gladiators, sex performers both male and female, many of whom had sold themselves into a sort of indentured servitude, for the amusement of those with such vast wealth that almost no expense could be felt. We walked by the antiseptic white laboratory. He brought me through the club, which I'd seen on my first night where I was drugged and taken into Sparrow's custody. He even showed me the business offices, where Sparrow's people accounted for their bountiful income from the sex trade, catering to the wealth of the entire northwest and other areas. "When are you going to start with me?" I asked, as we walked. "Start?" he asked. "You torture and brainwash people. I saw what you do. But so far I'm fed, cared for, just confined. When do you -- start?" "Mr. Miranda, of course it would reduce your anxiety to know what is to come. Alas, I will not aid you on this point. Your education has begun already, and continues every day." "So I'm not going to get drugged or raped or whatever?" "All will be revealed in its own time, young man. Now attend -- I will show you my great library." Although it was a stately room you might expect from an old world manor, instead of books the walls were lined with refrigerated glass tubes. Sparrow pulled a set from refrigeration to show me. They were labeled simply Calvin 17, and filled with a milky substance, and in the room temperature air the iced glass of the tubes perspired. "Your father's seed," said Sparrow. "Why are you doing this?" I asked. "For the first years after your father returned to our possession, we tried to breed him, for the purpose of maintaining his genetic strain in the herd, as well as demonstrating the fate of any who oppose us, on them and all their descendants. "Tragically, he has proven infertile." I almost had to smile. Way to fuck with these crazy creeps, Dad. "We are optimistic that with time we can manipulate these samples to achieve our ends, extracting the viable sperm." "You're so sick," I said. "And in the event we fail, young Mister Miranda, we have you." Fuck. 5. One day I awoke to find Mr. Sparrow on the other side of the glass wall. His comings and goings were so quiet, especially for such a large physically intimidating man. He had Dad already on his back, his legs spread wide in a sling. "Observe, young Mister Miranda," he said, "as we visit your father in the White Cell. Sparrow produced a staff, which he slowly began to insert into my father's hole, making him contort his body and arch his back to receive. It was big enough to cause discomfort but something Dad's body craved. "The staff simulates the erect penis," said Sparrow, "which in keeping with his conditioning is the source of his comfort and shame. It activates his receptivity. Observe: Calvin. Calvin. Respond?" Dad's mouth slowly opened. "Yes." It was the first time I'd heard him speak in five years. His voice was deeper than I remembered and more earthy. "Where are you?" asked Sparrow. "White," answered Dad, "white room. Nothing else. " "Nothing else, Calvin?" "Nothing." "Calvin, there is a door. I know you see it. I know you have studied it." Dad nodded yes. "A white door in a white room. A lock." "Yes Calvin, you remember the lock." Sparrow turned to me and said, in different tones, "There is an imperfection in the White Cell. A locked door, which creates an unfortunate amount of detail, giving him something to consider." Sparrow continued to thrust his staff into Dad. "You, young Mister Miranda, are responsible for that. The door and the lock are artifacts of your kiss, the moment where your father is stuck ." "DAD," I yelled, "DAD! It's me WILL!" 
"Do you know who is out here?" Sparrow asked, shoving his staff harder into Dad "Who is with me?" Dad shook his head no. "Calvin," said Sparrow, "I think you do." He withdrew the staff to the tip, resting it against Dad's hole, rubbing up and down teasing." Dad tried to grind against the staff, to get it inside him again, twisting and writhing without shame. "Who is with me, Calvin?" Sparrow asked again. "Boy," Dad croaked and his chest heaved. "Very good Calvin," said Sparrow, again sliding the length of the staff into Dad. "The boy is the key. But I have the cock in you. Here in front of your boy, who sees all you do." "Dad! I don't care about any of that!" I yelled. "Do you want to leave the White Cell, Calvin?" Sparrow asked. Dad nodded No, spread his legs again and lifted his pelvis and groaned "Fuckk meeee."
 Sparrow triggered a release with the staff, shoving it in deeper and harder than before, and Dad's body tensed up, jerking almost off his bed. "I release the neurotoxin," said Sparrow to me, "to simulate insemination and to help him retain the training. "He is so well conditioned we could go for long periods without the neurotoxin, but it's good for you to see." Dad's body continued to slowly convulse as he absorbed whatever chemicals ejaculated into him. "Why are you doing this?" I asked, "Why show me?" "So when the day comes for you to do the same, you will know how." END, ACT FOUR