Date: Sat, 9 Apr 2011 20:36:34 -0400 From: Robert Scott Subject: Timmy Hypnotizes Dad Chapter01 Gay-Incest Gay-Adult Youth Please take notice that this story contains graphic sex between many of its protagonists. If this is offensive or illegal, then don't read it. You have been warned. Nifty has the posting rights and I hold the copyright. Feedback welcome at TaleTeller33@gmail.com Timmy Hypnotizes Dad Chapter 01 I had just finished mowing the lawn on a hot Sunday afternoon. The lawn didn't really need mowing but I did it to put off the one task I didn't want to complete. I made myself a vodka and O.J. to calm my nerves and now found myself sitting at the dining room table with the package that arrive the day before sitting in front of me. My father had passed and the package was from my Aunt, containing things she wanted me to have. My father and I never had a good relationship and I didn't care to have any of his things in my house. All through my child hood he was an absentee and cold parent. Even when my wife died a few year ago shortly after our son Timmy was born I didn't even receive a phone call from him. Now this package of my father's belongings was here in my house. God, I was uncomfortable. It wasn't only the reminder of the past in front of me, but these damn shorts that I insisted on wearing when I mowed the lawn. They were my lucky track shorts from college and I always wore them when I mowed the lawn. I don't know why. Maybe I was trying to fool myself that I still had that tight, thin runners build from years ago. Or maybe I got a secret thrill from the stolen glances of my neighbors as I strutted about while doing my yard work. Either way I had to admit that it was time for the shorts to go. They were much too small for me. Every time I put them on I had to shimmy into them for fear of ripping them wide open. I realized my running thoughts about my wardrobe was just another attempt at putting off the uncomfortable task ahead of me. I tore into the package and was taken aback by it's contents. The only thing it contained was a beat up gold pocket watch. I remembered it clearly from my child hood. My dad had received it for his years completed in the service and it was never far from his side. Memories from my past flooded my conscience and I teared up. The watch was connected and reminded me of the only happy memories I had with my father. He used to tell me it was a magic watch, capable of hypnotizing people and giving you the power to command them. He said it was the only thing that helped him survive. the war. My very young son Timmy came running up to me having noticed my distress. "Whats wrong Daddy?" he said, as I pulled him up from the floor into my lap. I explained to my little boy about his grandpa dying, who he never met by the way. I went on to explain about my late fathers magic watch and as I went on talking my mind wandered to the only good memories between my father and I that the beat up time piece brought me. He would pretend to be hypnotized by me waving the watch in front of him. I remembered him giving me a ride around the living room on his back or wearing my mothers Sunday hat on his head at supper and numerous other things a young boy could imagine up. But those good times where few and far between. My son tooK the antique watch from my hands and turned it about inspecting it carefully. "It's really a magic watch?", he asked. "It sure is" I replied as my boy looKed up from the watch with an expression of awe on his cute face. "Wow" he said as he toOK the chain and carefully swayed the golden object back and forth. "OK, Daddy are you ready to be hippo-tized?" as he tooK me by the hand and led me into my Den. He had his little hand wrapped around my finger as he tugged me into the other room and guided me to the leather sofa. I plopped my self down as young Timmy struggled to push an ottoman in front of where I was sitting. I gave out a little laugh as I watched him struggle with the relatively small piece of furniture. I cut the little tot a break and pulled the padded foot stool into position with my outstretched foot. Timmy seated himself on the stool with watch in hand and started swinging in in front of me. "LooK at the watch" he said. "Your getting sleeeepy...very sleeepy" Timmy continued for a few more moments, swinging the watch back and forth. I put on what I thought was a good acting job for the little tyke. I fluttered eye lids and kept drooping my head as if I were actually falling asleep. A few more swings and I had my chin on my chest, slumped forward on the leather sofa with my eyes closed. There was a few seconds of silence and I had to exert extreme effort in not cracking up. My son's voice saved me from a full on belly laugh. "you will open your eyes but your still asleep" the kid piped. Continuing my academy award winning performance I raised my head and opened my eyes, putting on the blankest stare I could muster. I did my best not to react to the five stubby digits of my son's hand being waved in front of my face. "You are now under my power and will do what I say" I heard him say. I was really getting into our little game now and replied "..everything you say". Timmy stood up on the ottoman he had just been sitting on. "Stand up daddy" he said, and I rose up from the leather sofa. My boy brought his knees up under him and stood up on the cushioned ottoman he had been sitting on. Even with the added height from the foot rest my son's young face was only brought up level with my chest. I loOKed down at my child's upturned face as he stared at me with a sense of wonderment at the result of his new found powers of hypnotism. His expression of astonishment soon turned to one of bewilderment. I laughed inwardly as I watched his little button nose scrunch up...The little guy didn't know what to do next. I cut the little tyke a break and said "..what is your first command oh master?" "Stand on one leg!" he announced. I complied to my son's demand and raised up my hairy tree trunk of a leg, this had the unintended effect of forcing my too tight college shorts up my leg, pulling my cock and balls to a tight bulge in front which I hoped my son wouldn't notice. "hop up and down on one leg daddy!" my son ordered. So there I was hopping up and down on one leg, in front of my son who was standing on the ottoman in front of me. The screwdriver I downed earlier did nothing to help my balance and my arms where soon flailing out on both sides trying to maintain my upright position. It was a losing battle and I was soon toppling forward. I instinctively reached out to brace myself by grabbing Timmy's slim shoulder. "Stop, Stop..stop hopping daddy!", but it was too late his little legs of corse gave way and over we went ottoman and all in a tumbling heap. I quickly got to my feet, looKing down to ensure that my young son was OK. Seeing that he was I, remembered our game and quickly went back into my trance like state, remembering to raise my leg up, as the little tyke had not told me to put it down. Timmy pulled himself off the floor and regained his footing no worse for wear. I was staring straight ahead when my attention was drawn to the giggles emanating from Timmy. LoOKing down I saw my son with both hands over his mouth, doing a poor job of suppressing his giggling. LoOKing around and not finding what he found so amusing I slowly followed his gaze to the source of his amusement...my bulging mound of cock and balls. My shock and surprise almost sent me toppling over once again. Noticing my dilemma my son piped up "stand on both feet daddy". Standing on two feet did nothing to dispel my discomfort. I could almost feel my boys gaze on my my bulge. Not wanting to scare or frighten the boy and not knowing what else to do, I just stood there. His giggling ceased and I watched the tentative little hand rise up, ending in a pointed index finger. Time seemed to move in slow motion as I watched the stubby little digit move closer...closer...contact. Three firm pOKes by that little finger to my manhood. I don't know if it was the vodka or the fact that I hadn't been laid in over a month, but I felt a familiar stirring in my groin. I heard a gasp from my son as he noticed the tight nylon bulge growing bigger. I don't know what made me more uncomfortable; the fact that my son was pOKing around where he shouldn't, or that my quickly growing cock was too tightly confined. I know it's just my imagination but I swear I could hear the seams on my shorts popping open. My thoughts were interrupted when I felt a firmer pressure on my trapped cock. LoOKing down I saw, and felt my son's full hand exploring my now clearly outlined shaft. One hand quickly turned to two. He ran his hands up and down my now pulsating nylon covered shaft, pausing now and again for a gentle squeeze. The rubdown my son was giving his daddies cock, soon had me feeling a wetness in my shorts. Damn! not now. I'm not usually a heavy leaker but not having jerked off in a week or so was causing the pre-cum to flow freely from the trapped head of my cock. Sure enough there was the evidence; a growing wet spot just below the waistband of my shorts. The twenty year old nylon fabric did a poor job of containing the copious about of pre-fuck juice coming from me. It was actually oozing threw the material, accumulating on the surface like nasty little dew drops. This did not escape the notice of my curious son, who pulled back fingers covered in in pre-cum. He held his fingers in front of his face, staring at the shiny slime then to my barely covered oozing cock, then back again. If all my energy wasn't tied up in my raging hard on I would have laughed. The little guy didn't know what it was that covered his fingers. He brought his index finger to his nose and smelled, tentatively at first then two big whiffs. His hand started moving again. Oh my God...yes! I mean no! Too Late. First that little pink tongue darted out and soon he had his fingers in his mouth sucking every drop of adult pre-cum off his little fingers. Not just any adults fuck juice but that of his own father, who just stands here and lets it happen. How did I get myself into this situation I wonder, and what kind of sick fuck am I that I can't remember my cock ever being harder. I swear I could cut glass with it. My cock is up and to the right, and would have freed itself from the waist band of my shorts if they weren't so tight. My son was busy sucking the last of my man juice off his thumb. God..I hope he doesn't start that up again. I just managed to break him of that habit a few months ago. Funny, here I am practically exposing my rock hard cock to my son while he licks my cock snot from his fingers and I worry about him sucking his thumb again. The little guy must really like what he's getting because now he's back at it, scooping up more pre-cum from the front of my shorts and depositing his find into his eager little mouth. As heavy as I was flowing, I couldn't keep up with the kids demand. Thinking to remove the barrier to his new found treat my son tried to grab the fabric of my shorts to pull them down, but there was no fabric to grip. My too tight shorts being suffed with my swollen adult cock are plastered to my body, almost painted on. Maybe he'll tire of our game, and we can get back to the real world where I'm not some pedo dad spoon feeding his kid his spooge. Timmy was always a stubborn kid and today was no exception. Seeking another way to get at what he wanted, he was now tyring to get his little fingers into the waistband of my shorts to pull them down, without success. I guess it didn't occur to him that I was "hippo-tized" and he could just command me to remove my shorts. Maybe I should suggest that? No, this has gone on long enough and has to stop. But how? As if hearing my thought process, Timmy gave up on his futile quest and loOKed up at me with a determined loOK on his face. When I heard his tiny voice it sounded like a thunder clap breaking the silence as I realized neither of us had spOKen in some time. "Daddy" Timmy said, "pull down your..." RING...RING... Sounded out my cell phone. I was dashing across the room and had the phone to my ear without even thinking about it. Hello, I gasped, my throat fell raw. It was Kyle from the office, with a question about tomorrows meeting. Having answered him and putting down the phone, I turn to face my son. Thinking quickly, and thankful that the call about work had softened my hard-on, I said "Timmy, how did the ottoman get like that?" Picking up the small piece of furniture and placing it in it's proper place, I gently scolded my son "You know your not supposed to be playing in Daddies Den." "I'm sorry I don't have time to play your hypnotism game, but daddy has work to do, so off to your room young man" Believing my pretend ignorance of the last few minutes, Timmy whined "But Daddy I want to play the hippo-tize game, you said you would." "Not now I replied, maybe later when I finish my work." This seemed to somewhat satisfied and he shuffled off to his way out of my Den. As soon as he cleared the threshold I closed the door, locking it and fell into my leather recliner. It wasn't until now that i realise I'm soaked. My shirt is drenched in sweat and I quickly peel it off, letting it drop to the floor. Getting off my sweat and cum stained shorts isn't as easy but that too soon joins my discarded shirt. I lay back, naked in the chair exhausted and replayed the scene that had just played out with Timmy and how to best put it behind me, forget it forever. Of corse, thinking about what just happened had a predictable effect on my previously softened cock, which was now free to stand proud and tall...and hard as steel. I couldn't help myself, taking my cock in hand and strOKing like a mad man, I thought about my young son, gobbling the goo which was now running down my pumping fist. Just as I though about what might have happened; if my cell didn't interrupt us, if my son managed to free me of my shorts, I let go and was shooting volley after volley of thick, white cum into the air, covering my chest and belly. After a few minutes I came down from my perverted high and spied the pocket watch on the floor. I quickly scooped it up and locked it in my desk, determined to leave it there forever.