Fellatio

“I'm going to allow you to suck my cock, now, faggot, freely and on your own,” Dad tells me, standing in front of me, “Do not dally, however. Amy's waiting for her turn, and it's rude to keep a guest waiting longer than is absolutely necessary.”

“Mm-Hmm!” I moan in answer as Amy giggles in amusement. I slide my mouth down hard on Dad's cock and start to work on him, moaning loud for him. I raise my hands to rest them on his thighs, and Dad slides his pants down out of my way.

I cup the front of his thighs under my palms, pushing myself away from him when my mouth reaches his hilt. I sway hard, forward, sliding my mouth down his shaft, as I look up at him. My hands slide a bit outward, forward, to Dad's outer thighs.

The position gives me a little more universal leverage, and I try to pull myself down onto his cock and push myself up, off, both. Getting him out of my mouth feels easier than taking it in, so I move my hands again, to the back of his toned thighs.

Perfect, now, I pull hard on Dad's thighs, slamming my own mouth down on his cock. My mouth slides up his cock easier, sliding up until my lips hit the underside of his helm. I moan on the way up, offering sensual vibrations to his thick shaft.

I breathe in as I yank myself down, forcing myself to slam my mouth down to his hilt in one smooth but aggressive diving move. Dad moans above me, but he doesn't offer me any assistance, proving he's serious that I need to earn this, myself.

He growls, however, soft and warm, low in his throat, as I kneel nude before him, sucking his cock. Dad flexes his spine to the point it pops, his cock growing hotter in my mouth, letting me know after only ten minutes that he's very near ready.

When Dad's cock starts to pulse, every muscle in my body tenses, like a coiling viper, and I yank on his thighs as hard as I can. Dad's muscular form actually sways forward as I slam myself down so hard that his balls force their way past my lips.

My throat stretches around his entire cock from hilt to helm, conforming to his shape as he pulses. Dad gasps, and hands slap down on my skull and grip my head. “Holy fuck, so happy to be the family faggot you fucking holstered it yourself?”

I moan loud as Dad's cum starts to pump into the bottom quarter of my throat. His cock is massive, thick enough to hurt my stretched-taut lips, but I am determined to adapt and get used to it. I have no choice, now, being the family's faggot.

“I can see why you chose to reprogram him for this, Amy,” Dad grunts the words, forcing himself to slow his breathing, and speak calmly, even as he empties his nuts in my throat. I suck his balls, staring at the wiry curls that are all I can see.

“I really did intend to deprogram him,” Amy observes, “I was hoping to simply get good data on temporary hypnosis and especially on deprogramming.” She'll still need that latter data, but I'm sure she's not exactly disappointed by this outcome.

She's never been able to lie to me, I can always tell, and while she absolutely had other options, Amy's not lying about how she intended this to go. It was only meant to be one week, but if I'm comfortable being permanently reprogrammed, now?

It's within my parents' legal rights to have it made permanent, as long as I consent to the finalisation process, which I did. As his pulsing subsides, Dad pulls me off his cock, and smirks down at me. “Good, faggot. Very, very fucking good, whore.”

“Well, that's it, my balls are drained, for now,” Dad says, “I'll test drive that faggot ass after dinner once Amy has finished your permanent brainwashing.” I look up at him, then glance to Amy, seeing she has her cock out, and then back to Dad.

“Okay, Dad. Thanks!” I answer, smiling up at him for calling me a faggot, again. Dad turns, stowing his cock back into his pants, zipping and buttoning, Then he walks out, leaving me alone with Amy in the living room. She snaps her fingers.

“Come, faggot,” Amy commands. I crawl to her on my hands and knees, and begin licking and kissing Amy's cock as my new programming demands. She smiles down at me, satisfied with her work and with my performance for her needs.

“Time to reprogram you,” she says, “Any last words? Questions, before I erase all possibility of deprogramming you?”

Author's Note:
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Here the story converges in Chapter 25: “A few, actually,” with Amy and I talking.