Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.
*****
NOTE: This part will use the father's perspective.
I got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around my hips and sat on the side of the bed. I picked up my phone and tapped the messaging app. I tried to ignore the one at the top and searched for my son's name first. I believe he's in his 20s now, I think? Goddamn, they all grow up so fast.
I've been hearing disturbing things about him. Things that no father should want to see his son do, but made me feel hot inside too. I saw his name and thought of what I should say. While thinking, images of him doing those despicable things flashed through my mind and— it made me hard.
"Jason, I want you to come home. We need to talk," I typed in.
My heart pounded waiting for his response. I tapped the back button and hovered my finger over the latest message.
The screen displayed "Alan sent a video" from thirty minutes ago.
The name made my insides quiver. It was sent while I was still in the shower. A number at the right side indicated that he had sent more. I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath in anticipation of what's to come. I tapped to open it.
I was relieved to see that it was just some random porno. The very first video sent was two guys seemingly fucking someone between them. The other was sitting on a table while the other humps the bottom on his back. The second video was pretty dark but I believed it was in some kind of grassy area and a couple fucked on a tree. Before my mind processed what happened on the last video sent, I scrolled up to read the messages first.
"Your son had been pretty busy lately." My heart picked up its pace once again. Surely he didn't mean—"Didn't you say that you would offer him to me first?"
The realization hit me hard, I looked at the last video and I immediately recognized what little bit of interior the film caught. Someone had his feet lifted up as a slim guy was over him, his cock already balls deep. I remembered the door they had at the background, it was open and I could see the same view one could see in our terrace. I quickly went out of the room and compared the one in the thumbnail to our second floor.
My mind raced as I tried to deny the truth.
"Looks like so many others got ahead of me. What I showed you are just a fucking few," the other messages said.
I started as my phone rang. My son's name appeared with the message, "Okay, I'm on my way. What's going on?"
I let his message disappear. My eyes lingered on three thumbnails. I tapped on the last one. Suddenly, the two came to life. The man on top moved with such intensity that I could see the recording shaking. He pumped his tool inside and out, his balls slapped loudly against the bottom's ass. Their angle made it hard to see their faces but I knew it was him. The one getting his ass drilled was my son. Though I couldn't think of anyone who would have the audacity to own him right under my roof. It couldn't have been Alan, the top in the video was way too slim.
Despite the confusion and anger swirling inside me, I couldn't help my cock from twitching to life. I went back to bed and held it in place. I tapped the second video right above the last one. It started with the person recording fumbling his or her phone. A shaky film of just tall grass and rocks were visible at first but then it focused on someone by the trees. It showed someone humping vigorously while a pair of feet flailed by his shoulders.
"Holy shit, they're actually doing it," whispered the recorder; it was male after all. Though it still wasn't Alan or anyone I recognized.
I saw some clothes unceremoniously thrown at the ground. The slacks reminded me of what my son wore in church. I couldn't believe Jason would actually do this right after serving at the church. I felt sick at myself as my cock grew harder. How am I getting horny seeing my son get owned like a cheap whore? When he's being used merely to satisfy and pleasure of those big, veiny and magnif—shit. The more I thought about it, the harder I became. The vid was cut short when the recorder got spooked by something, making him shake the phone and probably accidentally stop recording.
My finger instinctively tapped the very first video at the top of the last two. As if I wanted to see more. I felt very disgusted at myself wanting to see my son get fucked. However, that didn't stop my hand from reaching under the towel and started stroking. I hoped this one video would show more than the two.
The room the video showed had long blackboards. This was definitely at school. For a moment, some uniforms can be seen at the side stacked in a neat fold. Further nailing my assumptions. From the recorder's position, all I could see was the back and smooth ass of a well-built young man, moving his hips in a very good rhythm. Him and the smooth legs of the other one by the table a few feet from him. Thankfully, the recorder stood and walked by the side.
The two tops glanced at him then returned their attention to the one taking both their loads from both sides. There was no denying it, the one bent over enjoying two cocks penetrating his two holes was my son. My boy was turned into a girl by all these men. The boy I worked so hard to raise was now working hard to please his superiors. My cock got so hard that it hurt ever so slightly. I couldn't believe that what Alan told me years ago would come true. My son would be more of a faggot than I am.
I tried to think of any signs that he might be gay before but I couldn't. The sight of him being used by so many men overcame any thoughts I had. Why am I feeling this so much longing for my son all of a sudden? I wanted to reassert my dominance over him so badly. All this time I felt frustrated thinking that all of this was so wrong. But the only wrong here is that so many other men got to breed him before his own father did. I felt very jealous but I'm gonna make it right when he comes back. I watched the videos again jerking off to seeing Jason get used.
I heard the gates rattle open downstairs. It must be him. I quickly fix the towel in place. What's the use of wearing clothes, I'm gonna make him beg for his father's cock. I slowly descend down the stairs, waiting for him to call out to me. I hold my cock as it twitched excitedly under the towel.
As I make a turn to the living room, I make a smug face and took one more look at the phone. I can't wait to make him watch his slutiness and punish his loose ass.
However, the excitement drained as I immediately recognized the person who entered. Freshly trimmed hair with streaks of white, muscly swollen arms, greyish hair covering the toned chest and a beer belly that displayed lines of where abs used to be; Alan admired himself at the rectangular mirror on the wall. He barely acknowledged my presence.
"Do you think I'm getting fat, Ramond?" he said, posing his shirtless body on the mirror.
Why was he here? I knew he wanted to fuck my son too but he never just goes to people's houses to do it. If he wanted, he'll just call you to come at his home which was turned into a church to better hide his true works. And to lure in more men that he could use for his pleasure. Husbands of devoted women make for easy target for him as most are desperate for sex.
"Are you deaf?" Alan's voice reverberated in the room. I whipped my head up just to see him facing front to me. He soffed and walked towards me. I shrank back, gulping. "Would you rather me call you by your 'real name'?"
"I-I umm..."
"Remy," he whispered in mybear using that deep rough voice.
It sent me back many years ago when I just turned 18 and just moved to the big city. I didn't know shit about how things worked. I thought I should pay to the driver of the train itself. I didn't know where to go most of the time and looking back, I realize I was such a fool for being proud of finally being able to taste real cake.
Eventually, I became desperate for work. I stayed at a small area in Caloocan, Manila. I met Alan there, he offered me a roof over my head, a stable income and it's all for being a house boy. I would do house cleaning, cleanig and fixing of his car and taking care of his kids. He didn't want to talk about his wife who was never there. His eldest, who was a very young boy at the time, told me that his mama left in the middle of the night and never returned.
"Dad was always playing with other boys," the little boy added.
