The Epidemic – Part 1 The Outbreak
First off, this is a work of fiction, and the author of this story in NO WAY condones child abuse in any form, or the abuse of any human for any reason.
This is the first part in what could be a very long series about an epidemic that turns all boys into sluts for their fathers. Don't worry, there are going to be many twists, turns and steamy details. My goal is to make a story that is not only extremely hot but also interesting to read and compelling in terms of characters.
I ONLY write stories when I have someone to chat with. And I won't continue this story if I don't get good feedback. So if you like it, drop me a line! You can email me at KentTheWriter@hushmail.com or on yahoo messenger at KentTheWriter. Let me know what you like and what you want to happen with the story, or just chat me up. I have other stories to share with those interested. Happy reading – and remember don't cum until the end!
Zeke wakes up at 6:00am. He breathes in a whiff of the bedroom air as he sits up, rubbing his eyes. He had been in the middle of an intense dream, but it was gone from his memory. Whatever it was – the dream had caused a major boner under the sheets. Fuck – it was throbbing insanely. Zeke reached down to touch his dick and moaned – he hadn't felt a hardon like this since he was a teenager.
Which isn't to say Zeke didn't have hard ns all the time at his age. For a 45-year-old, the father of three still had to bust at least two or three loads a day to maintain his sanity. Part of that was due to Christine, his wife. Or "the bitch," as he liked to call her in his head.
Speaking of his head, it was still cloudy from sleep, and all the blood rushing to his suddenly alive cock was making it even harder to think.
Fuck. 6:00 a.m. Zeke is supposed to be halfway to the Redwoods by now. But there was no way he was gonna get his tan jumpsuit with that big, long zipper over this hardon. It has to be taken care of, and NOW.
"I'm gonna be fucking late," Zeke mutters under his breath as he throws back the sheets to his bed. He looks down at his body. Jesus – what was going on? Was he still dreaming? Or had his body changed over night?
Zeke is so alarmed by his appearance that he leaps out of bed. He walks over to the mirror to get a good look at himself.
Looks like I've been fucking working out in my sleep. My pecs haven't looked this good in years. And my abs – I'm fucking ripped.
Zeke flexes each of his muscles individually, trying his darndest not to look down. He didn't feel like he was ready to see his hard on right now – it felt so heavy and the throbbing was unbelievable. Any worry Zeke had about being late to work vanished. His appearance and his cock had his full attention.
His biceps were like softballs when he flexed them, showing off that stupid barbed wire tattoo he had gotten in college before he dropped out. The dusting of gray and brown hair over his pecks and abs had thickened. He had been losing his hair slowly, and had a nice buzz cut now that the ladies loved, but to his surprise it seems as though even the top of his head has a bit more hair. And as he looks down, it seems his bush has grown a bit thicker too – though still trimmed like he liked it. Just fuller.
"HOLY FUCK!" Zeke cries out as he looks down.
God, his cock. His cock, his cock, his cock!
What is that monster between his legs? This is not his usually 8 incher. No – that thick thing had been impressive. Christie had loved it for the first few years. Most women who saw it dropped to their knees within a few minutes. But the cock that now thrust forward from between his legs was something else.
This is a professional porn star cock. No, this thing puts porn stars to shame. This is a veiny, shiny monster that's intimidating on its own. Wielding it between his muscular thighs was something completely new and astounding and terrifyingly powerful. It was a brand new cock, and apparently, a brand new Zeke.
I've got to touch this thing. I can't take it anymore.
Zeke's two massive fists, with their light gray hair on the back and tan forearms, reach forward and envelope the head of his new cock. They begin to stroke furiously, working with a deftness that Zeke had never felt in his hands before. This had to be a dream! No way could his cock be so different, so much more powerful – AND his dexterity had increased. All in one night? But if this is a dream, it's the most realistic dream Zeke has ever experienced.
And the best, Zeke thinks to himself as he enjoys his careless wank session. But little does Zeke know, that the biggest nightmare of his life is about to begin.
But for now, it feels fucking amazing! It's like having the feelings of 10 cocks shoved into one – and this was just his hand. God, he was glad Christie was shacked up in that motel with the boys. Her disgusting pussy and bitch mouth never compared to what he's feeling now as he massages his own massive tool. Dumb bitch – couldn't even give a handjob right.
It doesn't take long for his deft fingers and rapid stroking to bring his new cock to the brink of an orgasm. He braces himself, planting his large feet firmly on the ground in front of his mirror, prepared to possibly break it with his cum shot. He can see his balls, which somehow grew to the size of jumbo eggs overnight, literally churning in their sac, getting ready to spew baby juice everywhere. He doesn't care – he has to get it out. He throws his head back and gets ready to explode -
But just before he can, he hears Mason scream.
Immediately he is pulled back from his orgasm, and his hardon subsides into a throbbing, red and angry semi-erection. His child is in trouble. All of Zeke's fatherly caveman skills came rushing to him, and he forgets about his cock. Or at least he tries to. But as he moves into action, the thing is practically bruising his thighs, making it rather difficult to ignore.
But still, the man has to cover up. He can't just venture out to rescue his son with this beast of a cock unsheathed. He quickly grabs his green robe out of his closet, puts it on and haphazardly, ties it around his waist. Good enough.
"Mason? Are you alright? Daddy's coming!"
It was probably just another bad dream. But fuck, he though the kiddo's bad dreams had stopped finally. And without Christie here, it was annoying to have to check on him to make sure he was OK. It made it hard to leave for work before the kid got the school bus. But Mason was smart – he could handle it. He might not have gotten the athleticism of his father or oldest brother, but he had brains and he was cute. That got him far.
Zeke turns at the hallway and heads to his son's closed bedroom door. But he stops, hearing a strange sound. A thumping. And a rattling. Thump. Rattle. Thump. Rattle. It sounds like Mason is throwing something against the door. What the fuck?
"Mason, what's going on in there?"
On Mason's door is his name spelled out in fun letters. MASON in red, green, yellow and blue letters. It was a little kiddish, but Mason had protested when his dad tried to talk him into taking them down. And when Mason begged, usually Zeke's heart was so warmed that he had to give in.
That's what's rattling is – the letters. Whatever little Mason is throwing up against the door is making the letters bounce on their nails. Zeke is awestruck.
Jesus, what has the kid got back there? He's so tiny – he can't throw THAT hard!
He watches as first the A falls to the floor. Then the M. Now his door only reads S-O-N.
Zeke pushes open the door, and that is when he sees his adorable little son, with his curly blonde hair and big blue eyes, in his train PJs, drooling with his arms out in front of him. His eyes are fixated straight ahead.
Unfortunately, straight ahead means right into his father's crotch. But before Zeke realizes what is going on (and it will be a very long time before he does) his son is staring at his dick. The kid leaps forward like a dog - no, like some much crazier animal - and dives face first into his fathers pubes.
The shock of the boy's leap knocks Zeke back against the hallway wall. But that doesn't stop Mason. The zoned out kid scrambles forward, and at first Zeke things the kid is scared and trying to crawl into his daddy's arms. But it quickly becomes clear that Mason is not aiming for the arms at all. He's aiming below the belt. Zeke watches in horror as his youngest son grabs at the bottom of the robe – and fuck! The kid rips it away! The green robe tears right up the middle, and Mason is back in his father's pubes. He's growling and drooling like an animal.
Dear God. I can feel my son's drool on my balls! FUCK!
The idea is so upsetting, so taboo, that without thinking Zeke kicks forward with his powerful legs – powerful from spending so many hours hiking around the Redwood forest – that the kid goes flying.
"Mason!" Zeke calls out as he watches his kid hit the wall and then fall to the ground. For a second he thinks he has knocked the boy out – or worse. But no – the kids eyes whip up. He is still drooling, and his big blue eyes are still wild and frenzied.
Mason begins to crawl forward, moaning something. He's clearly slowed down from the hit against the wall, but in moments he's back between his father's feet, pulling himself up on his dad's muscular calves. Zeke yells out at the feeling of the boy's tiny fingers digging into the muscle on his calf. And the boy is moaning .
"Cooooome. COOOOOME," Mason says in a deep voice. And immediately Zeke feels his heart soften. His son wants his daddy! He's calling out ofr his daddy to come to him! He rushes to Mason.
"Daddy's here!" He calls out. Zeke may seem like a tough guy on the outside, but the baby in his family can turn him into a very sensitive man. He scoops his child up to hung him, but to his surprise Mason begins squirming and screaming, like he wants to get out of his dad's grip. No – not quite get out. He's turning, so that instead of being face to face with his dad, all of the sudden Mason's feet are on either side of his dad's head. Zeke has maintained his grip on his youngest son's waist, but instead of planting kisses on his son's face, he feels the unmistakable wetness of drool on – oh fuck – on his cock this time.
In shock, he drops the kid. Head first. Onto the floor. FUCK! He's never laid a finger on his son before, and now in just one five-minute span he's kicked the kid and dropped him hard ONTO the floor. But Mason is squirming again – and he still ahs that look in his eyes.
Before he gets scared and kicks his kid again, Zeke is up on his feet and running. But Mason pursues him.
"MASON! GET BACK IN YOUR ROOM!" Zeke runs out. The humor of the situation isn't lost on him entirely – here he is half naked running away from a little kid. His own son. But still, his heart is pounding. What the fuck is going on this morning? First his body changes into a hulking beast, his cock takes on a new persona – and now his son is a zombie. God, this is FUCKED UP! Please let it be a dream.
But something about this tells Zeke it wasn't a dream. He turns the corner into the living room and then makes a break for the doorway. Damn – he didn't remember Mason being this fast! The kid is almost on his heels. In the living room there's a door to the garage. Zeke makes a break for it and slams it shut behind him, locking Mason in the living room.
Immediately the thumping begins again, and Zeke has no doubt his kid is throwing himself against the door once more.
Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic.
Zeke was breathing heavily, taking in the scent of motor oil and gasoline and sawdust from the garage. What was going on? What WAS that? Something was wrong with Mason, and he needed to get help. But his cell phone was back in the house – as were all the landlines – and there was NO WAY he was gonna open the door for Mason. Let the kid thump all he wants – he can't face his little boy like that again.
He looks toward the garage doors that lead out into the quiet suburban street of his neighborhood. It seems like the only option. Either go back in and deal with his crazed child – the term "crazed child" gave him chills – or else head out into the street and try to get help. Whatever was wrong with Mason, it didn't seem like he was going anywhere. Zeke could probably get to the neighbor's phone and call 911 and be back in the house in under 10 minutes. It seemed to be the only option.
Fuck. He wished he had thought before putting on this stupid robe that was now hanging in scraps around his waist. But he knew for a fact that all of his clothing is back in the bedroom, so he'll have to face the world like this. But an emergency is an emergency. Surely his neighbors will understand, right?
Zeke walks to the front of the garage and bends down, his muscular, hairy, tanned ass feeling the air of the garage. He grabs the metal handle at the base of the door and finds it very easy to pull up the garage door in one try, thanks to his newfound muscle.
But Zeke almost drops it again before it latches into place. Because before him is not his beautiful, quite suburban dream, with picket fences and manicured lawns. In front of him is some nightmare version of his neighborhood. Some horrific mirror image.
This can't be real.
Across the street, the Jacobson's house is on fire. And not just a small fire in one room. Engulfed in flames, spewing black smoke out the top. And yet there is no siren to be heard. However, several car alarms are screaming. How had he not heard them before? He must have been so focused on Mason. And before that – so focused on his hardon.
But it was what is happening on the lawn of the Jacobson's house that's even more shocking. Mr. Jacobson himself was laying on the lawn, sprawled out completely naked. He was covered in soot all over his body – and there was a lot of body. Mr. Jacobson was slender, but he stood almost 6-and-a-half feet tall. Actually, looking at him now, it looked like he had grown to almost 7 feet.
He is trying, feebly, to crawl across his lawn, but something is holding him back. Looking down, sure enough it's Nate Jacobson. Sweet Nate, the only child of the home, was lying on the lawn too, also covered in soot. The boy was 14 but he looked young for his age, because of his light skin and mop of childish red hair. He was a nice kid, a bit shy, but nice. But what the kind was doing now was far from nice.
Both of the boy's teenage hands were clamped on either side of his father's waist. And the boy had his face buried in his father's crotch. Speaking of which – there was something quite impressive sprouting up there. Zeke tried not to notice but how could he ignore a boner of that size? And just like Zeke's had been that morning, the thing was big, red and throbbing.
As Zeke watched, he saw innocent little Nate's mop of red hair tickle his father's giant boner as he went to town on his father's nutsack. It looked like maybe Nate was chewing on it a first, but after staring for a moment, it was clear that he was just sucking on them like they were candy. For his part, Mr. Jacobson seemed to be too exhausted – perhaps from the smoke he inhaled – to get away from his son, though he was still trying to claw his way across the lawn.
It was too much for Zeke, so he shifted his focus over to another scene of carnage – a car accident. A car he recognized from the neighborhood – a green minivan – had crashed against a light post. The driver's door was open, and there appeared to be no one inside. There was glass all over the road, and many of the windows of the car were smashed in.
But then Zeke turned his attention to the most horrific scene of all. It was his next door neighbor's house, one house to the left. The shittiest house on the block. The Zelch house.
The Zelch's were the trash of the neighborhood. Everyone else in the neighborhood had their house taken care of, their lawn mowed regularly, flowers and all that jazz. But not the Zelches. They were pure white trash and somehow found their way into a ritzy neighborhood. Their house was falling apart, their lawn was a jungle. And in that jungle lay Mr. Zelch, and his son, Owen.
Zeke and Arnie Zelch had hated each other from the start. They were constantly butting heads over the lawn, the house or the unruly dog. But more often than not, they were fighting about Owen and Mason. Owen was only one year older than Mason, but he had about 5 inches in height and 30 pounds in muscle on him. And he for some reason hated Zeke's sweet, tender Mason. Constantly picking on the boy. Zeke hated Owne almost as much as he hated Arnie.
But right now, when he saw what was going on on their lawn, he felt bad for Owen right away. Because it looked like little Owne was in the middle of his first hardcore anal pounding. Bent in half on his back in the dirty lawn, Owen was screaming bloody murder while his father held him in a choke hold. The child's face is bright red – clearly he is having trouble breathing due to his dad's big hands, as his father relentlessly long-dicks him.
Jesus. Longdicking. Where do I come up with a term like longdicking??
Yes, Owen was getting a serious guts-rearrangement from his father right in front of everyone. Forget the fire across the street, and even the bizarre scene involving the Jacobsons. The way Arnie was going at his son – and the sheer size of the man's cock as he pulled out of his little boy with each backward thrust – was far more shocking.
For the second time that morning, Zeke took off running. He was on Arnie's front lawn in a second, and was about to leap onto them to pull them apart when he stepped on something sharp. Youch. It was a little toy car left in the grass, but it was so painful that it stopped Zeke in his trap. That's when he saw Owen's eyes long on him.
Owen stopped moaning and his eyes widened. He had a dumb look in his eye. Now, Owne was always a dumb kid, but this look was different. It was just like Mason's look had been – hypnotized, hungry. And Owne was drooling too, but it was hard to tell if that was from his mental state or the fact that his father was pounding his young hole into puddy.
"ARNIE! STOP!" Zeke yelled.
And to Zeke's surprise, Arnie did. He continued to hold Owen in a choke hold, but he let his dick just hover right outside the boy's ass hole. Zeke couldn't help but survey the damage – and he winced seeing the boy's hairless pink hole winking, trying to cope with the empty space that was recently filled with insane amounts of adult cock.
The boy's are were still fixated on Zeke, empty, dead and dumb. And that's when Zeke see's something he can't believe. Owen's tiny, smooth legs wrap around his father's waste. The boy pulls his knees forward, and - my god – moves his little hips upward. Owne guides his father back inside!
The extreme boy pounding resumes, and Arnie begins to laugh maniacally. He sounds insane, laughing, panting and moaning as he pounds his only son into the ground. Owens screams and wails resume too, but they weren't loud enough to drown out Arnie's evil white trash laugh. He paused his laughter only once, to hawk a big gob of spit in Owen's face. Owen barely seemed to notice.
When Zeke was back to his garage, he slammed the door shut to drown out the sound of boy screams, fire and even father laughter. But instead he was treated to another terrifying noise – his son's banging against the door, which seemed to be growing even louder. And now he could hear Mason moaning through the door, still begging his father to come to him. But he knew something was very wrong with his son – maybe all the sons in the neighborhood.
What the fuck should I do?
Zeke realizes that as he's considering what the fuck he should do, his hands have moved to his dick and began stroking. How had that happened! He hadn't even been thinking about his dick, and there his hands were, like they had a mind of their own, stroking away at what must be an 11 or 12 inch boner. He couldn't believe he was hard – and stroking – at a time like this! He had just watched his neighbor obliterate his son's asshole! His own son had done something very – weird- this morning. And he was jerking off!
Ah fuck it, I can't think with all this blood rushing to my cock. If I can just get off quick I'll be able to think straight and make a plan to get Mason, and Owne, some help.
It didn't take long. His hands were so good at jerking now, and his cock felt amazing – way better than it ever had. He can feel every pulse throughout his body – and though he may notice consciously, but on some level he is very aware that the throbs that make his big mushroom head grow to the size of a softball in a steady rhythm match the EXACT rhythm of his son throwing himself against the door.
Zeke planted his big feet steadily again and prepared to shoot the biggest load of his life. He could tell he was gonna paint the walls with his sperm, no matter where he shot, and figured the middle of the floor – where his wife's car used to be parked – was as good a place as ever. Under his breath, he apologized to Owen and Mason. Then the cum began to fly.
And boy does it ever fly. Zeke has never seen a cumshot like this – not even in porn. He takes his hands away and places them behind his head – his cock is jerking too hard with each volley of cum to be controlled by his hands. His eyes open wide as he sees thick, bright white gobs of his cum hit the opposite wall of the garage.
The spurts – 44 in all – fall shorter and shorter each time, leaving a slimy trail – with the last big glob falling right between his feet. But Zeke's enjoyment of his orgasm is cut short when Mason bursts through the door.
Somehow the little kid – puny as he was – managed to bang hard enough against the door that at the exact 24th shot – he burst through the door. Mason dives through the air once again, but this time does something amazing. It's probably the best display of athleticism he has ever shown – and it's to do something totally disgusting. As the boy leaps, he catches that 24th volley right in his mouth, and swallows it before Zeke can do anything.
My son. Just ate. My cum. My son. Just ate. My cum.
Zeke wants to stop his son, but he can't. The orgasm is still going, and until it passes, he's not going to be able to move. He can only stand there and watch as the cum flows from his massive balls, out his long cock, and into his waiting son's mouth.
Mason squats like a little puppy in front of his father, on his haunches, mouth open. The boy's head darts to catch every volley of cum that shoots out of his father's baby maker. He swallows would-be little brothers and sisters by the gallon.
Zeke thought he would be able to move after his orgasm, but shooting literally cups of cum is exhausting for any man, even a sex god like Zeke. So instead of stopping his son, he can only collapse to the ground and watch the horror continue.
Now that he's out of fresh cum, Mason starts making the rounds. He's still in his choo-choo PJs, but for some reason they don't make him look too innocent as he's on all fours, lapping up cum off the greasy, dirty garage floor.
Mason even licks the walls, and Zeke watches in shock when Mason picks up a big wrench from the tool shelf and sucks it clean. He smacks his lips like he does when he drinks Kool-aid. But this is Kum-aid, and he seems to like it even more.
The last drop of cum little Mason takes into his gullet is the glob that fell right between's dad's feet. Because of the way Zeke fell, this spot is now pretty close to dad's nuts, which are still churning and burning in their sack.
Zeke fights back tears as he sees his only son's pink tongue dragging across the floor of the garage, savoring the jizz for a moment, and then swallowing it. When it's all gone, he looks up at his papa.
And Zeke sees his son. The dumb, drooling look his son wore a few moments ago is gone. And it's replaced by his normal, bright, intelligent eyes. Zeke is relieved, but still disgusted that his little guy was just such a cum whore.
"Daddy – what's happening to me?" Mason says, his voice not scared – but curious – and almost happy. Zeke reaches out and pulls his son into his arms.
"I'm not sure, Mason. But Daddy's gonna get you help, don't worry."
END OF PART 1