Date: Wed, 01 Sep 2021 11:43:16 +0000 From: Ben Writing Subject: A New Daddy for Ted's Boys (adult-youth, authoritarian) Warning: I am requesting that this be filed under adult-youth, but it has a very strong authoritarian aspect. Please be advised if you don't like that sort of thing. Disclaimer: This is an entirely fictional story which contains fantasy descriptions of sexual acts by underage characters. If this is not allowed for you or you don't like that, do not read the story. I posted this on a different forum awhile back, but it turned out to be the wrong spot, so I've moved here. This story is a departure for me. Most of the things that I write deal with my ideal of boylove; a mutual relationship that is equally desired by both the boy and the man. Despite having lots of sex, there is also kissing, love and passion. This story isn't really like that. I don't really know where the darker tone came from, but I enjoyed writing it and it was a turn-on to write something different. Everything in this story is consensual, but there is an authoritarian bent that I'm not used to writing. If you would like to correspond about the story, please contact me at benwriting@protonmail.com My initial plan was for this to be the only part of this story, but I've gotten well into part 2, so there will at least be a second installment. Last: donate to nifty, please: donate@nifty.org Here it is: A New Daddy for Ted's Boys (m/b/b/b(9,11,13) anal, oral, incest, humil) by Ben Writing Ted Fails Ted had lost control of the boys. 13, 11 and 9, the youngest was his only hope, but he followed his brothers' examples and had started to talk back. This morning it went like this; "Shit dad, your cooking sucks," he announced, disappointed in his breakfast, "these eggs are awful, I wish mom was still here to make us some decent food. I hope you made my lunch better than yesterday, I was fucking starving `cause I couldn't eat it." "You cannot talk to me like that," the man answered, "I will not put up with it," he scolded sternly. "Oh, yeah?" his youngest protested, "bullshit!" and gave his father the finger as he pushed the food away and stormed out. And the worst part? The kid was right, Ted's claim on authority was an act and the last sucker wasn't buying it anymore. Ted was exhausted, disrespected, frustrated at work and unappreciated by his sons who made his life a nightmare. He was weak and everyone knew it, especially his ex who picked up and left six months ago. He heard the front door slam and walked to the window. All three boys were on their bikes ready to head to school. No one had said a word to Ted, they didn't have any reason to. As a matter of fact, Ted hadn't even seen his two oldest sons that morning and was shocked to see the oldest hand the youngest boy a McD breakfast sandwich. Where the fuck did he get that? The two looked at the house when they made the exchange, but instead of a worry about being caught, Rory, the thirteen year old, made an obscene gesture, giving his father the finger, the second son to do so in a matter of minutes. No question, he'd lost control. And what was worse was that the oldest two didn't just disrespect him, they had almost vanished from his life. They didn't answer his texts, he knew that they didn't sleep in their beds many nights without explanation and they ignored him when they crossed paths. He'd worry about drugs if they weren't getting the best grades of their lives. Whenever he asked about it, he was greeted by silence or expletives. Petey, the youngest had been his last hope, but he had turned on him too. Ted was alone and miserable. That night he was driving home from work. The boys should have been home hours ago, but he had his doubts. As he drove up their street of modest homes, he happened to look to the side at just the right time. He was shocked to catch a glimpse of Rory three houses away in the backyard, mowing the lawn! Ted was dumbfounded, he couldn't get him to lift a finger at home yet here he was doing work at another house. What was happening? He almost stopped, then reconsidered and decided to ask when the boy got home. At the last second he saw a second set of hands collecting trash and realized that he was looking at his formerly sweet, middle son, Jeremy. Confused, he slowed enough to see the owner of the house, Ted couldn't remember the man's name, he was farther back in the yard, watching the boys, a drink in hand and to his left; there stood Petey, watching his brothers work. He knew that he should go confront the man and figure out what the hell was going on, Ted's nine year old son was standing there with a complete stranger for crying out loud. But he made excuses to avoid the conflict; the boys must be earning money, that would explain the breakfast sandwiches that Rory was handing out that morning. He must be using his extra spending money. Sheepishly, Tex drove home to wait. It was two more hours before he heard the garage open. They had a keypad low enough for all of the boys to use, so it wasn't a surprise to hear it open and the clatter of a bicycle coming in and being dropped to the concrete floor. The door slammed open and Petey marched in, alone. "Where are your brothers?" Ted asked, even though he knew. "They said it was none of your business," the boy snapped back. "I know that you were down the street, is that where they're at?" he accused. Petey stumbled for a second, then regained his attitude and spit out, "Who cares? You won't do nothin' about it." "Yeah?" Ted replied angrily, "We'll see about that," and he took out his phone. "Come home now," he texted to Rory. Nothing for a minute, until a reaction to the text showed up, "Ha Ha," in the corner of Ted's demand. "I know where you are, I'm coming over there," Ted typed back. "No you're not and so what?" was the immediate response. Ted stared at his phone, had he expected anything different? "How come you came home?" he asked his youngest son. "I can't stay yet," he answered. "What does that mean?" "It means that I can't stay yet," he repeated, "Mr Kincaid says I gotta earn it still." Kincaid, that's what it was, "Is that why the others were doing yard work? Were they earning the right to stay?" Ted asked. "No," the young boy said plainly, "they do it out of respect." The word hit Ted like a dagger, they respect some strange man and vilify their own father. "Come on, we're going over there." "Ok!" the boy answered quickly. Ted realized that it was Petey's back door to getting to stay. They went out through the garage and walked the few houses to Kincaid's. When they got there the house looked dark. Ted rang the bell and pounded on the door. Finally a light came on in the front hall and a figure could be seen approaching the clouded glass of the front door. Opening up, they were greeted by the homeowner. He was not a huge man, really pretty average, fit, handsome and shirtless. He was wearing khaki shorts that were so low on his waist that you could see the start of his trimmed pubic hair. He was covered in a sheen of sweat and smiled in a confident way when he saw who it was. "Hello Ted. Petey," he nodded to the little boy, "good to see you again," he added toward the youngster, "What can I do for you gentlemen?" There was no reason why Ted should be intimidated by this man, he wasn't any bigger than Ted and he was the one doing something wrong. Still, the wiry man had Ted completely terrified. Summoning every ounce of courage, he demanded, "Where are my sons?" as angrily as he could. "They're inside," the man said plainly, offering nothing more. Ted stared at him, unable to respond to such an obvious `fuck off'. While he searched for his voice, the man said, "Look, you don't want to do this. Just go home, this is where your boys want to be." "Why is that?" Ted asked in shock. "From what I understand, I give them what they don't get at home; discipline, guidance, authority," he listed, "they need to know that someone is in charge," he went on, "they need the comfort of knowing that they are taken care of and they only have to do what they're told." Ted was confused, exhausted and lost. What was this guy talking about? Was he trying to steal his sons? "I don't think that you're right," he finally answered tepidly. "I know that I'm right and so do you," the man answered with absolute assurance. "Petey?" he addressed the boy, "would you like to stay here tonight too?" "Really!" the boy answered excitedly, "I can stay?" "You can stay, but you know what that means," Mr Kincaid said. "Yessir," Petey answered quietly. "What?" the man barked. "Yes, sir!" the boy announced with confidence. "Ok, go find your brothers," he said, motioning with his head, "they're in my bedroom." Petey scurried past the man and disappeared into the house. "Tell Jeremy to help you get ready, it's his responsibility!" Kincaid called after the boy. "Hey!" Ted shouted after him, "get back here!" Kincaid was laughing at him, "This isn't a battle," he explained, "if you were doing right by your boys, none of this would have to happen." "What is happening?" Ted asked to no one, holding his head in his hands. "It's time to go home," Kincaid said, "eventually you'll come around, then we can make things right." "Come around to what?" "To me being in charge," he said plainly, "to know that if I piss on your leg, that's my prerogative and you'll accept it," he answered, "now I have guests to attend to, so I'll say goodnight," he finished and closed the door slowly in Ted's face. The boys' father stood staring at the glass door as the blurry image of his neighbor grew smaller until the light clicked off and the house was plunged into darkness. Ted couldn't decide what to do, should he call the police? Was it kidnapping if kids chose to sleep at another person's house? Finally deciding that he had to do something, he couldn't accept this man stealing his family without a fight, so he started to pound on the door. The racket caused a dog in the house next door to start barking and soon the light came back on. When the owner opened the door he had a smirk on his face, "Wow, Ted, I didn't know that you had it in you," he offered condescendingly, "I guess that you need to learn respect too." He looked at Ted as if he was appraising the situation. "Here's what we'll do, you come in and we talk, then you can stick around," he told him. Ted nodded and was ushered inside, "Where are my sons?" he asked when Kincaid closed the door. "Chores," he said plainly, "they have responsibility here, and they have to finish their studies before they get their rewards." Was he kidding? Ted begged them to study harder with zero success. They continued into the spotless kitchen and the man offered Ted a seat. "Drink?" he asked, shaking the brown-liquor filled glass that he had been holding the whole conversation. "Scotch," Ted answered. "Jeremy!" the man called and there was the sound of a slamming door and padding of feet. Ted's middle son came running into the kitchen, also shirtless and wearing only a pair of boxer briefs. He briefly flinched at the sight of his father, "Get an Evan Williams on the rocks for this man," he ordered. Ted was familiar with the crappy whiskey and doubted that was the best thing to offer "Yes, sir," Jeremy said, then turned tail and hustled out of the room. "Ok, here is the deal," the other man started, "your sons came to me because they needed the things that you weren't giving them. I've heard about the disrespect, your shitty job and your lack of guidance." Ted just stewed as Kincaid went on, "As you know, your boys are now acing school, they do their chores, they behave. All of the things that they don't do for you." Could Ted disagree? Every word was the truth, so he continued to sit in silence. "Here is what I'll do," he continued, "because you have shown that you also need to learn your place," he started, then the sound of Jeremy's footsteps interrupted them. The boy walked in and sat the glass on the table. "Here, sir," he said to Mr Kincaid, "anything else?" "No, tell Pete to be ready, I'll be there in a minute. "Yes, sir!" the boy answered, never once looking at his own father or acknowledging his presence. "Ok, I have work to attend to, so we'll make this quick," he began again, "as you can see, to your boys, you're a ghost. You don't exist, you don't matter. They are with me until you change. So you will stay here in my house without comment. You will sleep on the floor in the hall outside of my bedroom like any other pathetic animal. You won't interfere, you won't complain and you won't do anything without my permission." he stated plainly. "None of this is a request, this is how it will be." "For how long?" Ted asked. "Without comment," Kincaid reminded him. "Now, you can address me as sir or Mr. Kincaid. You will not speak to anyone else, specifically your children." Before Ted could answer he finished, "I'm going into my bedroom, you may finish your drink, then you will lay in the hall outside my door until you're told otherwise." The man rose and walked out of the kitchen, his footsteps receding and his bedroom door opening and then closing behind him. Ted, left alone in this stranger's house, took a sip of the crappy whiskey, winced, took the glass to the sink and carefully washed it out, dried it, found it's appropriate location in the cabinet, then found the other man's bedroom and curled up on the floor to wait and attempt to sleep. While he lay in the silent hall, the sounds from the bedroom were clear. Most of the words were, "Yes, sir," following a demand, but the demands couldn't register for Ted. Could the grunting, the moaning, the crying, be what it seemed to be? The demands were clear, the responses appropriate and Ted was left to only one, obvious conclusion; this man was on the other side of this thin wall, fucking his sons. And they were begging for it. The most shocking of all, it was little Petey who was doing the begging. ***** Kincaid Takes Charge Boy, did that mouthy little fucker squeal. It was hard work, repairing these boys who were so broken. Hard work had its reward. Tonight he was taking his reward from the youngest boy. It had been a tough entry. His older brother, eleven year-old Jeremy, had done his best, as he always did when the man demanded. He had licked and poked at his little brother's smelly hole for a good hour, only stopping once to get his father a drink. Having to dress was annoying, but Mr. Kincaid had called him, so with his brother's ass-stink plastered across his pretty face, he offered up the "bad" whiskey to the pathetic man who used to be his father. Hurrying back to finish the task, Jeremy was worried that he was running out of time. When Mr. Kincaid came back it would be Petey's time to pay up and he didn't want to see his baby brother suffer. This wasn't new to Petey, he hadn't been fucked, sure, but he'd been around to watch it, taken everything possible into his mouth and followed along when Kincaid gave lessons. He'd learned to be hard when there was something in your asshole. Mr. Kincaid demanded that you show your desire to be fucked by remaining erect the entire time. It wasn't easy, but it was a big step in the surrender to the man, and pretty soon it was like Pavlov's dog, you just needed someone to get in the area of your tight hole and you'd bone up. When the time came, Jeremy had done a god job, Petey was able to take Mr. Kincaid's big cock up his little hole, the tiny boy groaning and even crying, but in the end he was the same as his brothers had been; delirious, happy, secure and completely spent. He didn't lose his erection for an hour, even as he slept. Mr. Kincaid called that submission, you weren't responsible to think, you just do as you're told and submit in all ways. It had been six months since Barry Kincaid had first seen his neighbor's oldest son misbehave. He was barely a teen, if that, and so rude and disrespectful that it made Barry sick. Not from the boy, but from the father who let him be that way. He immediately knew that this family was his next project, the most recent in a long line of families whose boys had been turned around. He had a saying: boys just need the attitude fucked out of `em. Like so many before him, the boy made a feeble attempt at attitude when Mr. Kincaid first confronted him about his behavior. "Fuck off, old man, who the fuck are you?" Looking down at the boy, Barry told him who he wasn't, "I'm not your bitch girlfriend, so that's the last time that you address me that way. From now on, I'm, `Sir,' to you." Rory had no idea what it was, but he was so intimidated by this man, "Yes, sir," he said quietly, "I'm sorry, sir," he mumbled. "Louder!" the man demanded. "Yes, sir!" he called and the die was cast on their relationship. When he looked at the boys mouth, where the respectful words had begun to replace the sass, Barry could imagine his cock sliding through those puffy red lips to quiet any further backtalk. It's hard to complain with a big dick in your mouth. Taking this boy would be such a sweet treat, plus there were siblings who looked like they may require the same remedy. It's always best to break the oldest first. It took awhile, it wasn't unlike breaking a wild horse, but within a week the 90 pound boy was asking to do chores. He started to come around to the idea of rewards for hard work and he began to understand how hard Mr. Kincaid was working to turn him into a proper boy. It was on a Thursday night when they finally crossed the line. Rory wanted to stay later, he didn't want to go home to be ill fed and embarrassed for his family. "It's your job to guide your brothers," the man had told him, "you can't abandon them," then he said the fateful words, "but staying later, and, maybe sometime in the future, staying over, requires special work. Can you guess what that may be?" he asked. Rory looked at him and debated whether to say the first thought that popped into his head, but it seemed most likely, "Sex stuff?" he guessed, not even really sure what that meant, just an innate sense telling him that's what was coming. They were sitting in the family room of the tidy home, next to each other on the couch after some difficult work in the yard digging a ditch for a plumbing project, "That's correct," the man answered as if he was talking about the weather, "and you have to want to do them." "Maybe I do," Rory said accusingly, "how can you know?" "Stand up and take off all of your clothes," the man told him. By this point, Rory was growing used to snapping to it when he was given an order by Mr. Kincaid, it was part of his teaching, don't think, just do as you're told by your master. He jumped up without thought and started to quickly undress. Seeing the beauty in front of him scrambling to disrobe gave Barry a moment to appraise the child. Skinny, not very tall, not over five feet yet. When his pants and underwear fell there was the first sign of a pubic tuft above his soft, 2 inch adolescent penis. "You don't look like you want it," he accused the boy, his midsection bright white in contrast to his tan and dirty torso and legs. "I want it," he protested. "What do you think that a boy who wants it looks like?" Mr. Kincaid asked. Rory thought, then realized what he meant, "He'd get a boner," he said in defeat, realizing that he'd failed with no sign of a reversal in his nervous, stressed out state. "Yes," the man answered, "he would be so excited by the idea of pleasing his master that he would have an erection from the minute that it was proposed until he had consumed his master's seed," Rory crinkled his nose subconsciously at the thought, "he would be excited to undress him, he would be excited to lower his pants and kneel before him and finally, he'd be excited to open his little mouth and take his master's cock inside." Rory stood, stunned by the frank talk and amazed that he was in this position, but he didn't run or attempt to cover up, he just stood in place, not a stitch of clothing while the man looked him over. "You'll learn to love it, to please your master, to crave his warm cum filling your mouth, to hold it there and show him the mess that he's made of you, then swallow it down." Was it this last thought that finally registered, was it possible that the immature thirteen year old was turned on in the end by the thought of swallowing a man's semen? Was that what he wanted? Or was it just the craven images, the graphic talk? Because that's when the reaction came. First a minor lengthening, then the swelling until, in a matter of moments, the plump, three and a half inch, pubescent erection was pointed up and throbbing. Kincaid wasn't going to let the nastier possibility pass, "You got hard thinking about swallowing your master's cum, who is your master?" he prodded. "You, sir," the boy answered clearly. "Me what?" the man snapped back. Rory got it, he knew what the man wanted, he wanted compliance and Rory was surprised when he realized that he was turned on because he wanted to comply! "You're my master," he corrected. "And what will you do for me?" "I'll please you," he answered, each exchange the boy realizing that by giving himself away he was actually being free, "I'll do whatever you ask," then he decided to be specific, "I want to swallow your cum," he surprised the man by saying. Kincaid had been sitting on the couch, reclined as he stared at the naked, young teen. He was fully clothed, but this last bit had given him a sizable erection. It was time, mostly because Rory was ready, but also because Kincaid had to have him. There was no turning back now. Standing up in front of the dirty, sweaty, naked youth, Barry put his hands on his hips and said, "Go ahead, do the things that you want to do, and tell me, tell me what you want." Rory dropped to his knees, just like he had been told, and started to work on the man's fly. Looking down on the attractive young boy's head, Kincaid groaned when the boy looked up and smiled as the pants fell and the man's huge prick flopped out, "Say it, Rory, say what you want." Pretty confident now, Rory announced, "I want your dick in my mouth," something that he'd seen online in a porn video and he opened his mouth and waited. Barry looked down the kneeling boy's body, his eyes looking into his own, his mouth open like a baby waiting for its milk, his trim body down to his rock hard sausage and Barry knew that he owned this child. Placing one hand on Rory's head and the other on his own cock, Barry pressed forward and slid his dick into the second most wonderful place on earth; a boy's oven-hot mouth. "Yes, fuck that feels good," he groaned, "you're one great cocksucker you little slut. You're gonna get daddy's cum in no time." Then he held the sides of the boy's head and pulled out, "Tell me what you want." Rory had been shocked by the size of the hot, thick cock that was being shoved into his mouth, making it tough to breath and tough to concentrate. When this break came, he tried to regain his senses, then remembered that he didn't need to, he'd already been told what he wanted. "I want to suck you," the boy stated. "What do you really want? What makes your dick so hard?" "I want your cum," Rory said plainly, the kid telling the truth. Barry continued to hold Rory's head as he slid back in, then started to fuck the kid's wet mouth. Holding him in place, he slid into him at a pace that was tough for Rory to keep up, the boy gagging and drooling as he was rudely fucked. Barry knew what the boy could take, he knew exactly how he felt, initially terrified but now beyond excited to please this cock so roughly thrusting into him. He had been in this very same position when his own neighbor had fucked the shit out of him after discovering him mouthing off to his parents. "Take that big dick you little faggot," he ordered, "no whimpering, you take your master's cock you fucking slut," adding, "you're prettier than a little girl, I can't wait to fuck your little boypussy." When the boy's eyes bulged, Mr. Kincaid knew that the statement had registered, "That's right," he confirmed, "you swallow my cum and you can stay here late, but to stay here forever, you're gonna have to let me open up that little hole of yours." The man was getting close, just the knowledge that the boy had relented and given himself over to Barry was enough to induce an orgasm, but, even more, it was the feeling of those tight lips and spongy tongue. Rory was trying so hard to cover every inch of the man's large organ and it was working. The adult felt his cock get even harder and Rory felt the same in his mouth. Without thinking about it consciously, Rory had wrapped his hand around his rock-hard dick and was furiously jerking himself off while he gagged on the cock being fucked into the entrance of his throat. When Mr. Kincaid announced that he was about to cum, the boy couldn't hold back and his own, meager, watery jizz shot out in strong spurts, hitting the man in the leg and causing him to lose control. "Yes! You love pleasing me so much that it made you cum! Oh, oh god," he groaned involuntary and then it was there, his cum feeling like it shot straight from his toes, it began to empty into the waiting mouth of the virgin teen. Blast after blast of his thick man-cream forced its way into Rory, but he held fast, even post-orgasm he held the tip of Kincaid's cock in his lips, riding along each time that it bucked and threw more of the snot-like fluid into him. When the ordeal ended, the last of the semen having dribbled out into the obedient child, he slowly closed his lips, finally letting the tip of his new favorite toy escape. Mr. Kincaid grabbed the boy's chin and held him in place, "Show me," he said calmly. Rory tried to lean farther back, but couldn't escape Barry's grip, causing the cum to flow out when he opened his mouth to show him. It drooled down his chin and a string started to drip down to the carpet, but the man let him go just in time. Able to tilt his head, he held on to most of the jizz and was fed the rest by his new master, who scooped each dribble up and stuck it deep into the boy's cum-filled mouth, his finger bathed in the warm semen, then cleaned by the boy on the way out. "Swallow," he said when all of the escaped seed was recovered. Rory flinched slightly as he took a large gulp before instinctively showing his empty mouth, "that's a real good boy," the man said, satisfied with the kid's work and his obedience, "you can stay here until ten," then added, "you know what you have to do to move in here." It wasn't happening tonight, Rory knew it, he'd been through enough, but he also knew that it would happen and the thought of his master's big, thick dick entering him from behind sent an erotic chill up his spine and his spent cock erected immediately. He was definitely Mr. Kincaid's to do with as he pleased. ***** Petey's turn Barry couldn't have asked for a better scene when he re-entered his bedroom after talking to the father of his houseguests. Rory was taking his reward from Jeremy, his plump, young-teen cock slipping in and out of his middle brother's bottom-hole. Jeremy had his head buried in the youngest boy's upturned ass, looking like he was using his tongue to dig for buried treasure. They had been building to this for weeks and all three boys knew how this would work: Their master would walk in, he would undress and he would go right to Petey and expect his cock to glide right into the prepped asshole of the tiny child. He wasn't the youngest that Barry had fucked, not by a long shot, but it was always more challenging with the young ones. Sometimes they didn't get those warm, sexual feelings that the boys just slightly older did. But often they were as game as anyone, eager to be a big boy and prove that they can do it too. That was Petey's attitude and the cute little boner that he was sporting as he watched his master approach spoke volumes to Barry. It was what he demanded, if the boy wasn't able to stay hard while he was fucked it meant that he wasn't excited by submitting to his master. Petey knew all of this. It was even more exciting when Kincaid heard the shuffling feet outside his bedroom door followed by the thud of the boys' father dropping to the floor. With a wicked smile, the man patted Jeremy on the head, the boy lifting his head, his cheeks and chin wet with his own saliva and whatever he'd sucked out of Petey's anus. Barry leaned close to the middle boy, who was rocking back and forth as he was vigorously reamed by his older brother, and inhaled deeply. The scent of young, boy ass was radiating off of Jeremy's pretty face, making the adult hard as stone. The youngest boy was on his back, laying on the bed, his ass propped up by a pillow, so the man was able to climb on the bed between his legs and line himself up with the teeny little ring, "It's time, you're gonna take me tonight, do you understand?" he asked. Petey nodded, "Yes, sir," he announced with confidence. "Good, because once I start, it doesn't matter what happens, I'm fucking you and I'm cumming inside your pretty pussy," he explained menacingly. Not losing any of his hard cock, the boy said, "I'm ready, I want to be able to live here, I'm ready to be fucked." Sure, it sounded like a staged line, but, as we mentioned, his hard dick gave his desires away. Mr. Kincaid walked on his knees, straddling Petey's body as he went and pointed his cock at the little boy's mouth. "Get me good and wet for your tight cunt," he ordered and slipped his dick into the now familiar, tight and wet mouth of his youngest charge. "The wetter that I am, the easier it will be when I shove it up your baby boy butthole." Taking several short strokes, the compliant boy suckled mightily and slobbered as much as possible, knowing that his goopy spit was his current best friend. His wick thoroughly dipped, Mr. Kincaid withdrew, and shuffled back down the boy's body, his cock leaving a wet trail along the skinny torso until it bumped pleasantly against the boy's own erection and finally took purchase in the boy's rampant cleft. "Here it comes," he warned Petey, "make sure that your old daddy out in the hall hears what a slut you are, make sure that he hears you beg for my cock up your ass, let him hear you beg your new daddy" and he pressed forward. Petey cried out at the extreme pain of his first penetration, but it subsided quickly enough that he never went soft and he worked to get used to the two inches of mancock that was inside of him. His belly was heaving as he gasped for breath and his ass was clamping at the intruder. The man could feel the boy's body fight against him as it tried to learn to stretch and remain pulled open. It was a beautiful sight, the tiny body of the nine year old impaled on a cock that looked as big as the boy's wrist. There were only a few moments of accommodating that Mr. Kincaid allowed before he withdrew slightly and pressed forward, hard. "Oh, jeez!" Petey cried, "it's so huge. I didn't know it'd be so big," he complained, "it can't go anymore, not more, ok?" "We already discussed this," Kincaid said with a leer, "we're doing this whether you like it or not. Don't let that baby cock go soft!" he said suddenly, recognizing the boy's erection was starting to wilt. "Stroke your dick you fucking faggot, make it hard and beg me to fuck you, do it!" Petey did as he was told, tears welling in his eyes, worry about what he'd talked his way into was overwhelming. But he remembered to let go, his mind blanking except for the knowledge that he was doing the right thing for his master, his new daddy, and he got hard again. "That's it," the man said, "enjoy the feeling of being stretched around your master's dick. Let your mind go and just let yourself be fucked, let yourself please your master," he encouraged as his hips started to move. Each withdrawal resulted in new purchase, suddenly half of the giant dick inside the quivering rectum, "tell me, Petey," he ordered, "tell me to give you the rest. Tell me to fuck you so hard." Sniffling and feeling out of body, the boy repeated the lines, "Give me the rest," gasping for air and releasing a big sob, "fuck me so hard, oh, god!" he shouted as the man roughly shoved himself in, his shaft disappearing into the small body, the boy kicking his legs and screaming at the intrusion. Watching his little sibling lose his cherry had the appropriate effect on Rory who was very vocal as he climaxed inside his other brother as they rutted next to their younger sibling. Mr. Kincaid had a hard and fast rule about orgasms; they were to take place inside an ass or inside a mouth, the pool of cum either swallowed or held in the rectum for as long as possible. Both brothers struggled with cramping when they were anally taken from the settling semen, but their master insisted that they wait it out and not immediately lose their gift down the toilet. He gave them lots of theories about the intensity of the bond between the couple, the transmitting of immunities etc., but the truth was more likely that he enjoyed the thrill of the boy struggling with the after effects of holding onto his jizz, prolonging the submission long after being fucked, holding their butts while they rolled around the bed in agony before he allowed them to escape to the bathroom, the willingness to suffer demonstrating the child's obedience. The two of them sat on the bed and watched like the defiling of their baby brother was a spectator sport. Jeremy still sporting his bald, three-inch boner which gave Barry an idea, "Jeremy," he called and the boy snapped to attention, "shove that sexy cock into your brother's mouth and don't stop fucking his pretty mouth until he makes you cum." As usual, there wasn't any, "If you want to," or, "why don't you try," no, it was an order and the eleven year-old jumped up, stepped over his brother, then got on his knees facing away from Mr. Kincaid and stuck his narrow shaft right inside the warm oral cavity of his crying brother. "That's good," Mr. Kincaid said as he started to thrust into the tiny boy himself, "shut him up while I fuck the shit out of him," he ordered, loud enough for the boys' father to hear so that there would be no misunderstanding about the activity taking place on the other side of the door. He was rough as he rode the cutie like he was a practiced whore, "yeah, take that dick, you're as big a slut as your brothers," he groaned, "man that's a tight fucking hole, damn," he said and started to grunt with each thrust, his cock now bottoming out, his body pressed into the boy with each in stroke, his big, loose ballsack slapping against Petey's firm ass-cheeks. Watching Jeremy's butt bouncing in Barry's face was such a beautiful thing. Petey was alternately gasping, sighing and gurgling when the little cock managed to hit the back of his throat. Barry was fucking the boy so hard that he felt his orgasm approaching, but Jeremy was apparently beating him to it, announcing, "Yeah, Petey, suck my cock, I'm getting it!" He wasn't comfortable saying that he was cumming to announce his dry orgasms, so he used euphemisms instead. It didn't matter to his master, only that he vocalized his feelings and had the orgasm inside of the other boy. Jeremy's ass pressed forward hard, then stayed there, his whole body twitching as he had his baby-boy climax. Feeling himself so close, Barry ordered Rory, "Open the door, make that loser come in here," between breaths. When the other man slunked in the door, a pained look on his face, he was treated to the visual of his middle son dismounting from his younger brother's face, the younger boy's lips and chin covered in drool making the previous activity obvious. His visage was incoherent as he was slammed into by the man completely towering over his tiny body. The boy's hand was attached to his own stiff boyhood, flogging away to ensure that he stayed hard for his new owner but otherwise having no thought, just wanting to please. Ted didn't even scream, he wasn't surprised by what he found inside, he'd already heard it through the door. All that he could do was cry when he saw his youngest suffer like that, his sweet boy, his head lolling about, his tongue actually hanging out of his mouth as he was ridden so fiercely. None of the boys even registered that he was there, they felt nothing for the shell of a man. "Tell him what you want, Petey," Kincaid demanded. "I want you to cum inside me!" he barked as if it was a reflex, "please, master?" he begged honestly, the switch flipped, his body betraying him first and now his mind, "Please cum in me, I want you to make me yours, I want to stay here forever." "Who am I Petey?" he grunted with each slap into the compliant little boy, "tell the man who I am." "You're my master," he spat out and groaned. "Am I your new daddy?" Barry asked, the perversion of belittling the broken man too much, "call me daddy, you slut. Say that you're my slut." "Oh!" The boy cried from a particularly firm thrust, "I'm your slut, daddy!" he answered, music to Barry's ears and he felt his toes curl when he heard the boy's father cry out and fall to the floor. "Oh, fuck!" he bellowed as the feel of the tight asshole, the sight of the rag doll beneath him and the humiliation of the collapsed man brought him over the edge, "Here it comes!" he announced, "Oh, god! Yes, fuck!" and he slapped two more times into the child before he let go, his cum shooting in unseen, voluminous blasts, filling the boy's rectum and probably reaching the curve into his childish colon as it forced more and more seed deep into the small boy. Exhausted, it took a minute for Barry to recover, then he slowly withdrew, Petey completely spent, his arms at his side and his eyes closed. Still his dick stood at attention, such a good boy. "Don't let any of that cum out, baby, keep it inside you so that I become part of you," Mr. Kincaid ordered then got off of the bed and walked over to Ted. "He'll never get you back until he learns to obey me, right boys?" he asked them, really addressing the father. "Yes, sir!" Rory and Jeremy answered strongly, the two of them sitting at attention on the edge of the bed, still bare. "Yes, daddy," came a weak response from Petey, who smiled like he knew that it was bad to say, earning a wink of appreciation from Mr. Kincaid. "You see," he said in a low voice to Ted, "the boys are mine, they want to be mine and they will be until you earn them back," he had been leaning over to talk down at the man crouched on the floor but now stood up, still naked, his cock half-hard and wet, covered in Petey's anal juices, "and you can start," he continued, "to earn them back by doing the first task that all three have done." He stopped to give the man a chance to guess, but he could tell that he already knew. "You're gonna clean your son's shit off my cock with your mouth," he ordered, "and take your pants down, `cause Petey's about to get his reward," then turned toward the little boy still sprawled on the bed but still rock hard, "time to come fuck your first ass, baby-boy," then back to Ted, "you're at the bottom, it's me, followed by Rory, Jeremy, Petey, then you. You are less than an animal, but we will let you stay and learn. Now get to work," he finished, holding his smelly, streaked dick out for the other man. Tears in his eyes, Ted sighed and opened his mouth while he unbuckled his belt to prepare to take the first cock of his life up his ass, that of his nine year-old son. Kincaid just smiled as he stuck his nasty dick into the other man's reluctant mouth.