---
title: 'The Epidemic'
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## The Epidemic
                                 
                              ++++   Character Guide for The Epidemic  ++++
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The Good Guys

The Astor Family

Father: Zeke Astor Age: Late 30s
Profession: Park Ranger at Sequoia National Park
Bio: Zeke is the hero of our adventure. An alpha male, a proud father and an all-around good guy, though flawed slightly by his insane sex drive. 

Oldest Son:  Hunter Age: 17
Bio: Hunter is Zeke’s handsome, very straight, oldest son. He was missing with his Father’s car at the time of the epidemic’s release, and has not appeared yet.

Middle Son: Cliff Age: 12-ish
Need: Oral Deep-Dicking with Verbal Abuse
Bio: Our middle kid, as always, is the scapegoat of the family. Not as athletic as his older brother or as cute as his younger brother, byt VERY eager to please.

Youngest Son: Mason Age: Pick your favorite age under 10!
Need: Cum. In his tummy.
Bio: Mason is the cutest little guy, able to melt grown men with his big eyes. The only thing more desperate than his baby blues is his need for jizz.

The Jacobson Family

Father: Clark Jacobson Age: 40ish
Profession: Nurse
Bio: Clark is Zeke’s other neighbor and one of his best pals. This big, tall, red-headed man is meek and mild, but very loyal and a great doctor.

Son: Nate Age: 15
Need: Nuts. He loves to suck on hairy, adult nutsacks.
Bio: Nate, like his father, is a rather shy boy. 

The Pazzo Family

Father: Marco Pazzo Age: Mid-40s
Profession: Police Officer
Bio: Marco is a wolf man. Big, hairy, mean and gruff. He’s fiercely loyal, and will beat the shit out of anyone who threatens him and his family of men.

Son: Bry  Age: Pick your favorite age under 10!
Need: He is addicted to cock after it’s been inside a boy’s ass. Loves and needs to lick it clean.
Bio: Bry is the exact opposite of his dad. Tiny, timid, scared and innocent. But when his need is activated, watch out. He needs it bad.

The Miller Family

Father: Dean Miller Age: 40ish
Profession: City Planner
Bio: Dean is a strong, smart man, willing to help and happy to pick up the pieces that Zeke, Marco and Artie can’t handle.

Son: Jeremy Miller Age: 12-ish
Need: To suck on adult, hairy assholes.
Bio: Like his dad, Jeremy is a smart and kind kid. He’s nice enough to be mean to the nerd of his class, Cliff, and is Cliff’s only friend. He’s very obedient. 

Orphans with the good guys

Boy: Luke
Age: 16
Need: He needs to suck on hairy, sweaty, manly armpits.
Bio: Marco picked up Luke when he was patrolling the streets. The kid has no idea where his family is. He’s a very handsome and articulate teenager. 

Boy: Brent Binner Age: 17
Need: To have his beautiful jock ass eaten out for hours.
Bio: Brent Binner is a teenager who went to the famed Breyerson Academy private boy’s school. He is the ultimate jock and handsome as fuck, but when he gets a tongue on his ass, he turns into a sqeauling pussy. He’s now traveling with Zeke’s gang.
Boy: Harry Binner Age: Pick your favorite age! He’s definitely one of our younger ones.
Need: To be deep dicked both in the mouth and the ass, simultaneously. 
Bio: Harry is Brent’s little brother and another Breyerson boy. He hasn’t mastered the art of talking yet, since he still has an adorable speech impediment, but he is a pro at taking cock deep in his guts!

Boy: Ashton Age: Pick your favorite age!
Need: To be covered in that disgusting, frothy throat slime one works up when choking on dick.
Bio: Ashtion is another Breyerson boy, but much younger than Brent, and much sluttier! He loves being covered in his own throat slime! Now he’s also traveling with Zeke’s gang.

The Bad Guys

The Zelch Family

Father: Artie Zelch
Age: Early 30’s
Profession: Unemployed.
Bio: Artie is Zeke’s neighbor and sworn enemy. The man is a redneck pig, abuse, obnoxious and rude. He has not been seen since he was spotted brutally fucking his son on his front lawn just after the epidemic was released.

Uncle: Bobby Zelch
Age: Early 30s
Profession: Prisoner 
Bio: Bobby is actually Artie’s cousin, but he’s been like a brother to him and would happily had been an uncle to Owen if he hadn’t gotten arrested for child abuse. He took the fall for a crime both he and Artie committed, and he’s been locked up ever since. He’s now big, tatted and filled with a scary rage. He’s also not so bright.

Son: Owen
Age: Same age as Mason.
Need: Unknown.
Bio: Owen is the bully of the neighborhood, taking after his own father. He has a particular hatred for the adorable Mason. 

Man: The Ice Cream Man
Age: Mid 40s
Profession: Ex-Ice Cream Man, Current Prisoner
Bio: The Ice Cream Man is one of the most famous criminals of all time. He used his job as an ice cream man to lure children into his truck. Then he’d take them to his “freezer,” AKA his sex dungeon, where he’d keep them as sex toys until he was done with them. After he was captured, his crimes were revealed, and it was also discovered that he was highly intelligent and highly insane. 

Man: Dr. White
Age: Early 50s
Profession: Former Scientist, Current Prisoner
Bio: Dr. White is completely insane, and he’s been locked up because he turned evil and started to carry out some wild experiments that were definitely inhumane. He seems to have an oddly intense knowledge of the nature of the epidemic.

Man: Dante
Age: Late 20s
Profession: Prisoner
Bio: Dante is a big, black, dumb nigger who is violent and hard to control, like a gorilla. He’s been locked up in prison for a long time and enjoys hurting anything that’s smaller and whiter than he is. He’s part of Artie’s crew.

Man: Mr. Drew
Age: 25
Profession: Elementary school teacher
Bio: Mr. Drew looks like a young, unassuming, and kind elementary school teacher, but he absolutely LOVES using his cock in nasty, cruel ways on some of his most intelligent students. 

Man: Jose
Age: 35
Profession: Elementary school janitor
Bio: Jose is a mean, nasty, latino pig who has been dying to get sexual with the students at his school. He is dirty and horny all the time.

Miscellaneous

Man: PacMan
Age: 18
Profession: High School Student
Bio: PacMan is a sexy, nerdy, arrogant 18-year-old. He has no son, but for some reason he’s not too eager to go after daddies. Instead, he finds he needs to stick his long, skinny cock in the little sons of the world.


                   chapter 1  "The outbreak "
   
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 【2,1 m】. 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 Artie 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 【14 kg】 in muscle on him. And he for some reason hated Zeke's sweet, tender Mason. Constantly picking on the boy. Zeke hated Owen almost as much as he hated Artie.  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 Artie 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 Artie'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 Owen 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. 

  "ARTIE! STOP!" Zeke yelled.  And to Zeke's surprise, Artie 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 eyes 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 Artie 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 Artie'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 【30 cm】 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 Owen 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


                              chapter 2  " The rescue "
   In the bathroom, Zeke's mind is racing. After the scene in the garage, he and Mason hadn't been able to do much but lay there and recover. As horrified as he was by what he had seen outside, and even more so by what had just transpired between himself and his youngest son, he knew he had to stay strong for his boy. Mason looked up to his father, and if Zeke showed fear, the boy would be even more frightened than he already was.  Zeke's mantra becomes "One thing at a time." There is so much going on – so much freaky shit this morning. For starters – what has happened to his body? Why was his son acting so insane – and sexual?? – this morning? How did his boy get to be strong enough to break through a solid door? Where were the firemen who should be putting out the house fire across the street? Had he really seen Arnie pounding the shit out of the neighborhood bully? Where was his wife? Were his other two sons safe?

It was all to much, so Zeke decided to focus on what was closest at hand. And since he was still hugging Mason to his beefed up, hairy chest, he decided that this little guy was the most important thing in the world right now. And that men putting on a strong face and getting to business.  He decided it was best to ignore the fact that he had just shot the biggest load of his life into his son's mouth. He also decided to forget about the fact that as he lay there exhausted from his earth-shattering orgasm, his tiny little son had gone around the room and licked sploodge off every surface – even the floor.  What he did focus on was the fact that Mason had been banging himself against doors and floors all morning, and was a little worse for wear. The boy had a big bruise on his shoulder, and more than one splinter from his break through the door.

So without a word, Zeke scooped up his little boy and brought him into the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet, he pulled Mason up on to his lap and soothed the boy, who was being a brave little soldier, as he pulled out all of the splinters. To do this, he had to gently take of Mason's little PJs, which was no big deal. They had been naked together before. And he didn't want to make the incident in the garage any more uncomfortable, so he took off his shredded bathrobe as well. Usually during bath time, when Christine was too fucking lazy to give Mason a bath, they both got naked, to avoid getting their clothes wet. Now that all the splinters are out, Zeke ran warm water and put his tiny little son into the bath tub. Using a loofah he soaps up the kids back, chest and arms, making sure to get under his hairless armpits. He does the boy's arms, legs and feet. Then he holds out the loofah do Mason.

"Ok, do your other parts."

"Daddy – will you do them? Like you used to?"

Wow, it had been a long time since Mason had asked Zeke to wash his whole body. In fact, the last time he gave Mason a bath he had thought it would be their last. But I guess Mason was still scared from this morning, because he was asking the question like he was a toddler again. And when he asked in that pleading, quiet voice, Zeke couldn't say no. So he squeezes some more soap onto the loofah and then plunges his big hand under the water. He feels around to Mason's dick and balls and soaps them up, making sure to get them nice and clean. Mason didn't do the best job of washing his own package, so it is probably a good thing Zeke has the opportunity to do it. He doesn't let his hands linger too long though – he doesn't want Mason to get even more confused sexually.

He leans his little son forward to clean the boy's bottom. When he moves down in between the boy's cheeks, he feels something odd. It feels as though something is beating down there – like a heart. He let's go of the loofah, letting it float to the top, and reaches down with his hand – this isn't molestation, he thinks, he needs to make sure his son is ok.  At least that's his rationalization. But placing his thick index finger on his boy's smooth hole, he can't deny it. The boy's butthole is pulsating. And it's a very familiar rhythm.  Zeke pulls his out of the water in shock. Oh my god, he just felt his cock jump. His own cock – his straight, father cock – just jumped while his finger was on his boy's butt hole. 

"Are you OK, Daddy?" Mason asks. He is shocked at how quickly daddy's hand had disappeared form his asshole.

"Yeah son, I'm fine – just hot water. Uh – and daddy needs some time to think. Can you finish washing yourself up like a big boy? Then go to your room and wait for me."

"Ok, Daddy. But Daddy?"

"Yes, Mason?"

"Do you still love me?"

This almost makes Zeke cry. He steps into the tub to pick up Mason, and gives him a big hug.

"Of course I still love you, Mason. You're my little guy and I'll always love you. I'll always keep you save, and I'll never hurt – SHIT!"

Just as he is about to tell his son that he'll never hurt him, he drops the boy. But he didn't mean to drop the kid – the shock of feeling his cock jump again startled him. The boy lands in the tub with a painful-sounding thud.

"OUCH DADDY!" 

Zeke steps out of the tub. Fuck this has to stop – his cock is growing too quickly. He bolts out of the room, apologizing as he goes, and returns to his bedroom to do some thinking.  He immediately feels calmer once he closes his door. He knows Mason needs him – but if he doesn't get some time alone to sort out what's going on, they'll both be in big trouble. Mason will have to suffer for now while daddy thinks. Obviously, the police and the fire department are going to be no help. Once he had seen the fire (and calmed down from shooting bullets of cum into his little son's gullet) Zeke had tried to call 9-1-1 to see why the fire department hadn't come and all he got was a busy signal. Thankfully the phone and the electricity are working. But oddly enough – the Internet and all TV stations seem to be down. How is it possible that some facilities work, but not others? It almost felt like information is intentionally being held from the public. Why were no news casts coming out with information about what is going on? Is this only happening in his neighborhood?
That is a question Zeke is very curious in, and one that instantly fills him with dread. What if it isn't limited to his neighborhood? What if it is happening all over the place?

"My sons," he says out loud.  "My god, my sons."

Where are his other two sons? Good lord, he's been so preoccupied with little Mason and thatboy's...problem... that he's totally forgotten about Cliff and Hunter. Clifford was his middle son. Zeke shutters when he thinks about Cliff out on his own. The kid is pretty nerdy. He's never really grown big like his father, in fact he's as skinny as his little brother. But he doesn't have quite the same pizzazz that his tow other brothers have. He's not charming, and though he's cute physically, he won't spout out some adorable question like Mason will. He's more bookish and quiet, shy around strangers. Clifford had never really had friends. Which is why it was so nice when, last week, a boy from his class – Jeremy – had invited Cliff over to his house for a sleepover. Which was supposed to happen last night. Which meant that his precious middle son was only about three miles away. 

But where is Hunter? Hunter is his older son, 17. And Hunter had been out on a date last night, as far as Zeke knows. Ever since Christine had moved out, Zeke had been trying to go easy on the rules. He wanted to seem like the cool dad, compared to their ice queen bitch mother. So he had let Hunter take the car- fuck – the car. There is no car. He forgot – didn't even notice that the garage was empty. The car was god knows where, and his eldest son is probably with it.

Well, he can't worry about that now. He had to focus on what he can do – and that's help Cliff. He knows how to get to Jeremy's house – he had to drop Cliff off there last night before Hunter took off with the car. He can get there on foot – it would probably only take about a half hour. But he couldn't go now – not when things were so chaotic outside. His house was on fire and last time he looked out his window he had seen a couple boys running down the street, buck naked, raving mad and drooling. There were fires elsewhere, too, he could see them billowing in the distance. No, he would wait until night. Then he would go. And no way is he going to take Mason out in that mess. But is it safe to leave the boy here? He can't imagine leaving Mason behind, but he would slow down the operation. No, he'd have to stay here. He'd only be gone an hour tops, and he'd lock all the doors.  It's time to get dressed.  Even though his cock is rock hard once again, he has to do his best to ignore it. He goes to his closet and picks out his work uniform. It was a gray zip up like mechanics wear. His had a Sequoia Park Ranger  badge on the arm and chest. It looks good on him, and does nothing to hide his bulging muscles – and lord his cock is pretty clearly outlined. You can see the head throbbing in the khaki material.  Then he sets off into he house, heading back out to the garage. He grabs his tool set and hammer, pounding over the windows. No one is gonna break in while he's gone. No one is gonna hurt his son.

By the time he's done, it's halfway to evening, and he realizes he's starving. And Mason! Mason must be staving too, they haven't eaten anything all day. Well – except – Mason had chowed down on some cum. But Zeke was trying not to think of that.  He had been ignoring Mason all day, telling the kid to entertiain himself while daddy got to work. Around halfway through the day, Mason had gone crazy again. Zeke was putting windows up in the living room when Mason came bounding down the stairs, still naked after his bath. And once again, he was crying out – moaning for cum.  But Zeke was prepared this time – he wasn't totally caught off guard. He was still horrified, of course, to feel his young son's tiny hands clawing at the bulge in his uniform. The kid had almost ripped the fabric open before his daddy got him in a bear hug and carried the boy kicking and screaming upstairs.

"I'm sorry, Mason, but it's for  your own good!"

"CUM!! CUM!!!!" 

He kicked open the door to his own bedroom and threw Mason in there, then slammed the door shut. He still feels kinda bad about throwing the kid in there – it wasn't a soft landing, but the little guy was making such a fuss it was hard to even get him in. And as soon as the door was shut – THUD THUD THUD. The bedroom door is much sturdier than the garage door was. But just to be safe, he took a small table in the upstairs hallway and propped it against the door.

"Let's see the cum whore try to break through there."

OH MY GOD! Did I just refer to my own son as a cum whore? What has gotten into me??? I would never say that in front of him – let alone to him. I have to clear my head!  Zeke had put on music so he could continue to block up the house without hearing his son slam himself against the door. He felt bad – but what was he supposed to do? Eventually the thumping had stopped, and Zeke was pretty sure the little guy had tuckered him out. Still, he felt guilty not checking on the kid. Mason must be terrified – even if he is acting so strangely. But the thought of his son attacking him sexually again was even worse, so Zeke didn't take any risks. But the boy had to eat, and so did he.  Zeke went into the kitchen and poured two bowls of cereal. It wasn't much, but he was planning on going food shopping once he got Mason out of the house. Now it seemed like that wasn't going to happen. He poured a little milk onto the bowls of cereal, grabbed two spoons and headed upstairs.  He knocks on the door.

"Mason, son? Can daddy cum in? Will you be good?"

The only response is a slight moan. It sounds like how Mason is when he has the flu – which the poor little guy had twice last year.  When he opens the door, the sight he sees is so shocking he almost drops both bowls of cereal. On his bed, his little son is curled up in the fetal position, sucking his thumb. His face is red from crying, his cheeks still wet. But what's truly shocking his how small the boy is – he looks like he's lost 10 pounds 【4,5 kg】. And Mason was skinny to start with! How is this possible? He's been locked in here for only a few hours, and he looks like he's been starved for a week. 

Zeke once again rushes to his son, who lifts his head weekly to see his father. His eyes brighten a bit at the sight of dad, and his baby blues glance down at the bulge in his father's uniform. Zeke can feel his son's eyes on it, hot like lasers, and it's making him throb so much he feels like he might break the zipper. 
"Mason, baby, you need to eat!" Zeke says as he sets the bowls down on the bed side table. He rolls his son over and see's the boy's mouth is open. Mason weakly tries to reach for his father's bulge. but clearly doesn't have the strength.  Zeke ignores this and gets a spoonful of the cereal. He lowers it into his son's mouth. Immediately Mason is awake – he sits up coughing and sputtering. Gagging, he spits out the cereal onto the bed. Fruit loops and milk everywhere. 

"Cum..." the child whispers.

Zeke tries twice more, but it's no use. The boy can't keep the cereal down, and the bowl is practically empty. And each time Mason says "Cum," Zeke's hard on grows bigger, and harder to ignore. Finally, he can't take it anymore.  Rising to his feet, all of the sudden angry, he yells at the boy.

"FINE. YOU WANT DADDY'S CUM, YOU GET DADDY'S CUM."

Zeke stood and unzipped his uniform down so his cock and balls could flop out. There were just as big as he remembered from that morning – maybe even bigger, and definitely throbbing faster. It feels so good to just have it out in the air, and when he puts both his hands on it, he lets out a moan of pleasure. God he needs this so bad.  He steps back, aiming his cock at the bowl on the floor. He steps back more – realizing as he strokes, that this is going to be a messy one.  Finally it comes. And it comes like a bullet. Zeke is afraid the porcelain bowl is going to shatter, but instead it just moves a few inches until it's against the wall. Zeke fortunately has always had good aim, and he manages to get every single drop right into the bowl. He almost fills it to the rim! Good lord, how could one man's balls hold SO MUCH juicy, thick and white sperm? After he just shot the load of al lifetime?  While this happens, Mason is able to lift his trembling head, watching the orgasm with his big blue eyes. His dad tries not to notice that his own son is licking his lips. 

Zeke's anger is pretty much gone by the time his cum is finished, but he still knows what he needs to do. The boy isn't going to eat, unless this happens. Zeke doesn't know how he knows this, he just does.
The father goes around the room and picks up a few of the fruit loops that had been spit out by his son. Then he floats them in the bowl of sperm, hoping it will help get at least SOME sort of food into his kid's stomach.
Still unzipped with his cock still throbbing, Zeke makes his way over to the bed with the bowl of cum. Careful not to spill any of it, since he doesn't want to see his littlest son licking cum up off yet another floor, he sits down and takes his son's little weak head into his lab. He smooth's the boys hair back – it's matted to his forehead with sweat. 

"Shh...sh... here ya go. I'm sorry I withheld it from you, Mason. It's just so scary for daddy. Open up."
The boy easily open up and Zeke scoops up a big spoonful of his still-warm scum. It has a big green fruit loop floating into the middle of it. He sighs, swallows deep and then dumps the spoon into his son's open mouth.
It's no surprise the little cum fiend is thrilled. He sucks it down his throat as fast as he can, and opens again like a baby bird wanting a worm. And that's how Zeke and Mason spend the next few minutes. Spoon full after spoon full of scum. Mason slowly regains his strength with every spoon full of his fathers pearly white jizz in his tiny belly. By the end of it, he's on all fours, happily licking at the bowl. He's even chatty.

"Thanks Daddy, I was feeling so sick! I really needed this stuff. What do you call it anyway?"

"Son, I don't know if we should be talking about this."


"But daddy, I just wanna know what it's called? Since I need, it, it's only fair that I know what it's called, right daddy? So what is it? Huh? Huh?"

"It has a lot of names, honey. But for now, why don't we just call it was it is – cum. But if we're ever in public – don't use that weird. Just say milk instead, OK? Can you do that for daddy?"

"Yes daddy. I love cum. Cum Cum Cum!" 

"Don't say that!" Zeke says, but he feels a smile on his face. Gosh darn it, the kid is just too cute, even when he's talking about his father's ball juice. The little guy is all tuckered out after his big meal, so Zeke quickly spoons down some of his soggy fruit loops. Then he shuts out the light, letting his little special boy fall asleep in his big bed.  It's time to set out.
As he worked through the day, Zeke had developed a plan, and now it is time to carry it out.  Zeke heads out the front door in his park ranger uniform. He has his keys around his wrist, and for protection, a small hand gun tucked into the waist band of his underwear – tight white briefs underneath his khaki zip up. He had been semi-hard for a while since he came, but now the excitement of the night was making him throb all over again.

Cautiously, Zeke steps out into the street. It seems pretty calm and quiet – the house across the street is now just smoldering. There are still quite a few car alarms going off, but not as many as had been all day. 
He walks over toward the Jacobson's smoking house, crossing their dry lawn. He calls out in a loud whisper "Clark? Clark are you there?" 

There is no response at first, but then he hears a rustling in the bushes to the side of the house.
"Uh, just a minute! Just one sec! Is that enough, Nate? Ok, hold on."

There is a bit more rustling, and then Clark Jacobson and his son, 14-year-old Nate, emerge from the bushes. Buck naked. Zeke tries not to be shocked, but it's still so bizarre – two naked people – his neighbors. A 14-year-old boy and his father, without a stitch of clothing, outside. What a strange world.

"Zeke, what's going on?" Clark says in his deep voice. Clark is much taller than Zeke, but not as bulky, even though it's clear he's gone through a transformation. His son is tall for his age too, but still shorter than Zeke. Both father and son have bright red hair that they both wear cropped – they really resemble each other. Now that they seem to have washed off the soot, their pale white, Irish skin glistens in the moonlight. 
"I think the boys – " Zeke catches the look of Nat Jacobson and cuts himself off. "Uh, Clark, can we talk in private."

"Sure, sure. Wait here, Nate, and don't move. Daddy will be right back."

The two dads move around to the other side of the front lawn.

"Look, Clark, I don't know what's going on, and it's scary as fuck, but something's happened to – I think to our sons."
"Yeah," Clark says. "This morning I was cooking breakfast and Nate – well he attacked me. Distracted me so much that I couldn't stop the fire from starting on the stove. I only just got him out on the lawn before we both burned to death. And lord knows where my wife Tracy is. I just hope to God she wasn't in the house. But the fire department won't come."

"Something weird is going on. I don't know about your wife Tracy, but my two sons are missing. They're out there somewhere, and I need to go find them."

Clark looked shocked. But Zeke also noticed that his cock, which was easily a foot long, throbbed when Zeke said the word "sons."

"I need your help," Zeke continues. "I have Mason back at the house, asleep. I need you to watch over him. I can't take him with me – it's too dangerous. But if anything happens to me – "

"Zeke, nothing's gonna happen. It's not that dangerous – is it?" Clark was always a nice man and a good neighbor, but he was not a natural born leader like Zeke. The two men were friends, but Zeke always felt like Clark was something of a sidekick to him.

"Listen, Clark. If anything does happen, I need you to watch over Mason. I'll be back before sunrise, alright?"

"Can – can we go in your house Mr. Z?" That was Nate, who had snuck around. The boy was usually a rambunctious little firehead, but he looked much more timid – and hungry – now. 

"Of course, you can, Nate. Your dad and you can stay at my house as long as you need – just promise me you'll help your pop babysit?"

Actually, Nate had babysat Mason before. But the boy didn't look like a brave enough babysitter right now, cowering, and staring pretty blatantly at his father's crotch – with his rock hard throbbing foot long cock and red pubic bush.

"I've got to get going. Promise me you'll make sure he's OK?" 

"I promise. But Zeke? Does he go after – ya know – these too?"

Surprisingly, Clark Jacobson grabs his own big nuts, hanging in their sack like pool balls, and shakes them.

"You mean – uh – sorry Nate. You mean cum?"

"No," Clark says, kind of confused. "Your balls."

"Oh, no why does- ?" Zeke looks to Nate, who is staring at his dad's balls in his dad's hand, and licking his lips. It was the only answer he needed.

"No, Clark, no. He doesn't go after my balls. He goes after what's inside them. Cum. Yes, it seems my little Mason is an elementary school cum addict. And your son is a teenaged ball sucker."

All three of the males standing on the lawn were caught off guard by what Zeke said. It was so out of character – so filthy – Zeke himself can't believes those words came out of his own mouth. And yet- they did. 
Clark seemed willing to let it go. He grabs Nate's hand and leads him across the street. Once they are in the house, Zeke heads off down the street in the direction of Jeremy's house. It is eerily quiet as Zeke sets out, and hot as fuck. Jesus – when did it get so hot outside? It's not long before he can feel himself sweat, and it's humid as fuck, like he's in a steam room. I guess summer came early.  Most of the car alarms have stopped now, and as Zeke makes his way through the maze of suburbia, he is acutely aware of every sound. He makes progress for about 10 minutes, and then as he rounds a corner on Magnolia street, something changes.

As he turns the corner, his cock leaps to attention. It has been rock hard since he set out, probably due to excitement, but not like this. He looks down at his crotch. He can see the individual veins of his cock as the monster presses against his uniform.  Boys are near, he thinks to himself. He doesn't want to admit it, but the massive, throbbing weapon between his legs is pretty clearly acting like a divining rod. Boys in the hood, cock gets hard. Boys far away, cock is only semi-hard.  He stops, listening, and sure enough he hears it. Footsteps. And not big foot steps, little ones. Pitter patter pitter patter. It sounds like more than one boy. Yes, now that it's closer, it's clearly three or four boys. 

"Shit," Zeke says, trying to pinpoint where their coming from. But it's too late – a hedge right in front of him explodes, and out pops a boy, covered in twigs and leaves. It's not a boy Zeke recognizes – he's not in his neighborhood anymore. It's a small kid – really small, and really young. His brown hair looks dirty, and he's completely naked. He looks hungry.

"FUCK MY ASS!" the boy roars, lunging for Zeke. 

Zeke begins backing away from the boy only to feels something behind him – small hands on his ass. Two tiny hands on his big, firm ass cheeks, pulling them apart – and then something else pressing into his cheeks. He doesn't have to guess what part of the body it is digging into his cheeks – the moaning tells him enough. 
Zeke takes off running without turning around. He hears the boys moaning and grunting to each other – almost like a language. Soon there are four boys trailing him as he cuts through lawns and backyards. 
At one point, Zeke loses two of the boys when he jumps into a pool behind a house on Sycamore Terrace. Zeke has always been a fast swimmer, and he swam the length of the pool and is over the fence before two of the boys even get halfway. But two boys stay on his trail, and even hop the fence. His cock is throbbing the entire time, making it difficult to run – the girth is quite the weight, not to mention that his balls are churning so quickly.

He looks back over his shoulder – one of the boys is the little guy with twigs in his hair. The other is older, maybe 15 or 16, and very athletic for his age. The boy is tall and slender, also completely naked, and has a nice six pack and pecs for his age. He's moving fast – he's so light he might even have speed on Zeke.  BANG!  Zeke runs smack into a low stone fence, banging his shins and tripping into the yard behind it. He's stunned for a moment – he really hurt his shins. That's all it takes for the two boys to be on him.  The teenage boy leaps from off the low stone wall and lands squarely on top of Zeke, and before Zeke can do anything the boy has grabbed both of his hands and pinned them behind him on the wet grass.  Zeke struggles but the boy is surprisingly strong. Supernaturally strong. Zeke struggles, but can do nothing as the teenager buries his handsome face into Zeke's armpits and beings to gnaw at the fabric covering them. It's not long before he has the right armpit of Zeke's uniform ripped open, and is now licking furiously at the sweaty, hairy man armpit underneath.

Meanwhile, the little guy is using this situation to his advantage. He also tripped over the stone wall, but it didn't slow him down, even though it looked like it hurt. He crawls toward Zeke, who is still pinned to the ground. The little boys hands are at the zipper by Zeke's neck in no time, and the boy rips so forcefully that the zipper rips right off. Now Zeke's underneath, and it's not long before his underwear is off too. He feels his gun slip down underneath his ass.

Zeke's eyes go wide. The extremely tiny little boy is now standing up, his back to Zeke. Zeke's cock has grown to its full, terrifying size, and is now throbbing visibly. The boy's tiny, dirty hands pull apart his small, round and love-toned ass cheeks, revealing an unbelievably pink and smooth and tiny hole underneath. Then the boy begins to back up towards Zeke's hard on, his little butt hole throbbing in time with the cock its approaching.
My god, I'll kill him! There's no way I can fit in there!  The boy backs up slowly, until Zeke can feel the pucker of his ass right on the head of his cock. Zeke prepares to fuck his first child, closing his eyes tightly shut and hoping the boy doesn't scream too much, but all of the sudden, the boy is gone. 

Zeke opens his eyes. Standing above him is an enormous man who has the little boy wiggling and whining in his harms. The man throws the boy a little too roughly, and then seizes the teenager by the back of the neck and pulls him off Zeke with one arm. Then he holds out his hand to Zeke to help him.

"Follow me! No time to explain!" the man says. Zeke sees that the man is almost completely naked, except for a black belt around his waist that seems to have some tools hanging from it. Like Zeke, the man has a massive, unbelievably large, throbbing cock. Their two cocks are throbbing in unison.  Zeke is on his feet, and can see the two boys are both crawling toward them. The stranger takes off running through the yard back toward the street. Zeke follows him, and sees that the are approaching a police wagon. The kind that officers use at protests when they are expecting to make large numbers of arrests.

"Get in the passenger side!" the man yells, and Zeke runs around and does as he's told. Zeke is a natural born leader, but he knows when to take orders. Zeke locks himself in, and expects the man to get in on the other side, but he doesn't.

Zeke takes a look in the rearview mirror, and sees something quite amazing. The man has opened the back of the police wagon, and is standing in a position that looks like he's preparing for a wrestling match. The teenage boy reaches him first, and the man dodges out of the way at the last moment, sending the teenage boy flying into the back of the police vehicle. Then he lunges for the little kid, and throws him in the back too, and slams the door shut. The boys immediately begin banging on the back of the doors, but they are locked shot. 

In a flash, the man is in the driver's seat of the police vehicle, and they're moving. Speeding. It's some fancy driving, but the streets are mostly vacant. And this man clearly has some skill. Zeke's a brave man – but this maniac behind the wheel appears to be fearless. He drives over curbs and down narrow alleys. 

The two men don't speak, but Zeke has time to take in his new companion. Or captor? Zeke isn't sure he has made the wisest choice. The man next to him was enormous – not all bulk like Zeke, but more like a football player. He was hairy as a beast, but was clearly solid muscle underneath his thick frame.

Zeke couldn't help but notice the cock that was sticking up and precumming all over the steering wheel as the man drove. Hey – it helped with power steering. It's huge, veiny and throbbing – but that's where its similarities to Zeke's cock end. While Zeke's hardon stretches high and straight into the hair, this man's is thick and leans heavily to the left. It burst forwards from a short but thick clump of pubes at its base, and then stretches over his left elbow. And once again, Zeke notices that the cock is pulsing in time with his own.

"What's yer name?" The driver grumbles, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Zeke, I have to thank you for picking me up." Zeke attempts to break the ice – after all this is only the third adult Zeke's seen since things went haywire. But his friendliness doesn't seem to crack this man's hard and hairy exterior.

"Where are you driving?"

"Just tell me something – you ever touch one of your kids before?"

"What? No! Never"

The man behind the passenger seat turns to look at Zeke, taking his eyes from the road for far too long. He takes Zeke in from top to bottom, glaring, reading him. And then, Zeke can see, the man decides Zeke is telling the truth. Now the man's tenseness drops, and he seems to relax.

"I can tell you aren't lying," the man says. "Which is good. Cause I swear I'll kill any man who's ever touched his kid before. But something's going on. Something's changing, and you gotta adapt. You know what I mean?"

"Uh...yeah," Clearly this man was stressed and on the edge. 


"I don't know what the fucks going on. But I got five kids in the back of my police truck, each one of Ôem naked and insane. The women are gone. The weather is fucking hot as hell. And I don't know what the fuck to do. I'm just driving."

Zeke suddenly feels an intense camaraderie for this man. He's got a cool head, but he's obviously at the end of his rope. And Zeke finds himself doing something he never would have done with another man before – not even his own father, (who is a prick as far as Zeke is concerned.) But he never would have done this with any grown man, especially not a naked stranger. Despite all this, Zeke sees his hand moving over, and coming to rest on the man's thick, tree-truck, hairy beast of a thigh.  The man flinches, and for a second, Zeke thinks he's going to punch him in the face. But then the man relaxes, and gives Zeke a weak smile.

"My name's Marco," he said. "What the fuck are you doing out here on your own? No weapons or nothing?"

Zeke smiles and reaches into his park ranger uniform, which is torn and hanging wide open. He reaches into the waistband of his underwear and pulls out his gun. He see's Marco's cock bob when he does this.
"Well good man. I know you need protection. There's some sickos out here – and I'm not talking about the kids," Marco says, still speeding.

"I know what you mean – I don't know what's going on, but it seems that our world has changed forever."

"And some men seem to be fine with the changes," Marco growls. "Taking advantage of their own sons."
Their own sons. My sons! Shit!

"Cliff!" Zeke calls out suddenly.
"WHAT? WHERE?" Marco screams, pushing on the break and forcing the car to a halt.
"What the fuck, Zeke! We're miles from the cliffs!"
"No, I mean – my son, Cliff. I was out to rescue him. That's why I'm out here. Please – my son, I need to find him."

"Where is he?" 

Marco has already pushed the pedal to the metal, and they're speeding again.

"He was sleeping over at a friend's house. Jeremy. Over by Zenia Court."

"Show me the way," Marco says. 

Speeding through suburbia, Zeke is once again impressed by Marco's skill behind the wheel. Then all the pieces fall into place. The black utility belt around his waist. His amazing driving skills. A fucking POLICE CAR.

"You – uh – are you an officer?"

"Not in this world, I'm not. Ain't no officers anymore."

"But you were an officer? Left here at the stop sign."

"I was. And what were you? A janitor?"  The man smirks at Zeke's ripped uniform. The way he's taking turns so quickly he can hear the boys in the back sloshing from side to side. It doesn't stop them from trying to get up, an from moaning and wailing in sexual frustration.

"A park ranger. But I guess you're right – now I'm just a dad trying to save his sons."

This time it is Marcos' turn to reach out and put his hand on Zeke's thigh. He gives Zeke a powerful squeeze.

"That's alright, we'll get him back. I got my own son back for chrissake."

"You did?" said Zeke, alarmed. "Where is he??"

"In the back with the rest of Ôem," the man says, nodding his head backward at the back of the vehicle. So one of those five boys in there, drooling, slobbering and tumbling around, was this man's son. This night couldn't get any more bizarre and terrifying.  Except that as Zeke is taking in this latest revelation, they are pulling into the driveway of Jeremy's house. 
As soon as the police vehicle comes to a stop, Zeke is out bolting across the lawn toward the front door. Marco isn't far behind him. Zeke has met Jeremy's mother many times, but never his father. He doesn't know what to expect, but he's not afraid. His Father instincts are on overdrive, and Zeke has only one mission in mind – rescue Cliff.  He bursts through the front door, practically knocking it on its hinges. This house is in a nice part of town – much nicer then where Zeke lived. The house was big and fancy – but still chintzy like many houses in this suburb were. The lady of the house had a strange flair for decoration – everything looks breakable. 
Zeke pauses in the entry way. To his left his a large staircase. In front of him, he sees a door that looks like it leads to a kitchen. Then he looks down and sees a hand coming out of the door, limp on the floor.
He runs down the hallway and pushes open the door. Sure enough, he's in a modern kitchen – all stainless steel and wood. Lying on the tiled blue floor at his feet is a man of Zeke's age, passed out and bleeding slightly from the head.  Marco bursts through the door and kneels down, feeling the man's pulse.

"He's alive. But – did one of the kids do this? Does Jeremy have an older brother?" 

"No – he's an only child. I know that for sure."

Then they hear the noise from upstairs. A man's voice – deep and burly.  Marco and Zeke look at each other, both of their big, square faces stern. And then they're off running, Zeke leading the way up the stairs.  As they head up, the voice gets louder.  It's coming from a closed door at the end of the upstairs carpeted hallway. It clearly looks like the master bedroom – Zeke was familiar with this layout of home. The master bedroom was always at the end of the hall. The two men go slowly down the hall – there's clearly at least one man in there, and both of these men are smart enough to know that if there are burglars or – other less savory criminals in the home, they don't wanna be out numbered. The two big men slide down the hallway, each of them with a gun drawn. Their two hard-ons are so big and throbbing, it's almost painful. But mostly it's just blissful, making it more difficult to remain serious.  When they get to the doorway, one man on each side, they can hear what the voice is saying.

"YOU FILTHY CHILD SLUT! LOOK AT YOU WITH COCK HALFWAY TO YOUR STOMACH! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE WATCHING MOVIES AND ENJOYING A SLEEPOVER WITH YOUR PAL BUT YOU’RE CHOOSING TO CHOKE ON COCK INSTEAD! WHAT WOULD YOUR PAPA SAY IF HE COULD SEE YOU NOW, SLUT??"

That was all Zeke could take. He kicks the door open with his big foot, and takes in the room. Before him he sees a large man, tall and slender and muscled, completely naked except for a black ski mask. Between his legs, kneeling on the floor, stretching to crane his neck upward high enough, was his own son Cliff.
Literally chocking on the man's enormous cock.  His own middle son, gagging, spitting and snorting because his throat and face are so filled with cock. Drooling all over himself – sitting in a puddle of his own drool in fact. The boy's back is to Zeke, and Zeke suddenly sees two feet kick out on either side of Cliff's shoulders. Jeremy's feet. Shit! The little boy is lying on his back, his torso on the bed, the rest of him hanging off it. His face is squarely under the masked man's ass.  Worse than the sight of this is the sounds – at least for Zeke. He can only hear two things – the muffled sound of a child smothered under an adult asshole, the gagging, lurching, spitting and snorting sounds of his own middle child.

Zeke and Marco run, sprinting across the floor, and leap for the man on the bed. You would think two large, muscled, athletic men like Zeke and Marco could tackle a man on his own, but you'd be wrong. The man leapt on the bed, not unlike a ninja, bouncing on the mattress and flying through the air, landing perfectly through the open window, where he crouched for a moment on the sill. 
The naked, masked ninja-man pointed first at Jeremy on the bed, who was gasping for air.

"Anything involving adult asshole," the man said. Then he shifted his pointed finger to Cliff, who was also gasping like a fish out of water on the floor.

"That one, oral combined with verbal abuse. You can thank me later – we'll meet again soon."
Then to Zeke and Marco's surprise, the man disappeared out the window.

The two men shared another look of disbelief, and then turned their attention to the little boys who were writhing, gasping and choking on the bed and floor. Zeke drops to his knees and scoops his son into his big arms, doing his best to ignore his throbbing cock. He couldn't believe he could notice something like this – but the way his cock is throbbing now is a completely different rhythm than the way it was this morning, when Mason attacked.

"D-dad," Cliff stuttered in his timid voice, looking up into his father's loving eyes. "You came to save me." 

"I sure did son, it's ok now. Daddy's here. That man won't hurt you anymore."

Cliff let out a big cough and gasp for air. "Dad, he wasn't hurting me –"

"YES HE WAS!" Zeke says, suddenly angry. Cliff had a way of doing that – making Zeke angry by saying something innocent. It was just part of being the middle child.

"I'm sorry son, but what that man was doing to you was not right. Now come on, boy, we have to get out of here."

Zeke stands up, pulling Cliff up kind of roughly and dragging him to his feet. They head out the door, back down the stairs. Marco follows, carrying Jeremy who is apparently so out of breath from his time sucking ass that he can't walk on his own.  They head to the kitchen, looking down at the man who is still passed out on the floor. 
"That's Jeremy's dad," Cliff says quietly, still clutching his father's big hand with boy hands as if he was a toddler again. "We can't leave him behind."

Zeke was proud of his son in that moment, and was almost able to forget that only a few seconds ago the boy had been gobbling cock down his throat as though it were the cure for the common slut. 

"Let's put them in the car," Marco said, "And then come back for him."

The headed out into the front yard, and as soon as they stepped outside they could hear the boys in the back – all five of them- moaning and banging on the doors. It was going to be tricky to open the back door without letting all the boys out at once. 
Marco opens the door, and the boys begin to leap out, lunging at their cocks. They're able to beat them back just long enough to throw the still-gasping Jeremy into the back, but they have to slap the door shut before they can put Cliff in the back as well. But Zeke is still happy about this – he doesn't want his own son in there with those boys who are in full-on boy slut mode.

"Unfortunately, there are only three seats in the front, and it's going to be tough to squeeze in as it is with us three big guy," Marco says. 

"Well... jeeze..." Zeke looks nervously at his son, then down at his own crotch, which was still bulging with his insanely large erection." I uh, guess Cliff can sit on his old man's lap. We haven't done that since hew as a kid but we gotta get outta here before that man, whoever he was, comes back."

They headed back into the house to pick up Jeremy's dad, and together they carried him out to the car, with little naked Cliff following close behind. The slumped the big man into the middle seat, where he lay with his head back, while Marco got back behind the wheel. Finally Zeke squeezed in, barely able to fit, next to Jeremy's dad, and then hauled Cliff up onto his lap, failing miserably at his attempt to shield the boy from his pulsating penis. 

The two heroes took off back in the direction of Zeke's house. But it wasn't long into the drive before things started to change. Cliff, who had been nuzzled up against his father's beast of a cock, began to change, right before their eyes. His head lolled around, and soon he began moaning, just like the boys in the back. But unfortunately, they are in a moving vehicle, and Zeke is so stuffed in he can't move his arms to stop the boy as he begins to wiggle, and then slips down onto the floor, in between his father's two legs.  The boy turns his big, brown eyes – the only brown eyes in Zeke's family – up at his father, giving him the puppy dog look. Then Cliff seems to unhinge his jaw like a snake.

"Oh god, NO! NO CLIFF! DO NOT DO THAT! DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!"

But it's hopeless. Even as he's protesting, closing his eyes not to see the horror in front of him, Zeke feels the unmistakable feeling of a hot mouth on the head of his cock. The wet tongue gliding over his cock doesn't belong to Christy, his wife, or some bitch he met at a bar. It's his own flesh and blood – his own middle child who he made with his own sperm. And goddamn it if that mouth on his cock isn't more amazing than any fucking lady bitch mouth Zeke has felt.

"HURRY THE FUCK UP MARCO! I CAN'T GET HIM OFF ME!"

Zeke peeks down at with one eye at his son, just in time to catch the boy give out a big cough, causing spit to pour out the side's of his mouth and down Zeke's foot-long weapon of mass destruction. Marco, watching this incestuous scene out of the corner of his eye, turns back on his police driving skills. He's zooming through suburbia, listening to nothing but the soundtrack of 5 cock hounds moaning for dick and one little cock slut gagging insanely on his father's cock. He's mumbling too, trying to speak, but he's too lazy to pull his mouth off the cock.

"OH GOD NO CLIFF NO!" Zeke says, trying desperately to pry his son off his cock. He takes a fistful of the boy's brown hair and shoves the kid's head back, banging it hard into the dashboard, but that doesn't seem to have any effect. The kid just slurps back down, and Zeke isn't sure, but he thinks he sees a bit of a smile stretch across the boy's already stretched pink lips.

Finally the pull into Zeke's driveway, and the car is only off for a second when Zeke rips open the door and throws Cliff out of the car and onto the pavement. 
"YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" Zeke roars at his son, unable to control his anger at the boy, who is looking up at him pitifully from the pavement. "SUCKING YOUR OWN FATHER'S COCK LIKE SOME FAGGOT! YOU LITTLE FAGGOT WHORE!"

Even the boys in the back of the truck fall silent at Zeke's rampage. Marco just watches in horror.
"YOU GAG ON COCK LIKE A TOTAL BITCH, SON. THAT IS NOT HOW I RAISED YOU – TO BE SOME CHILD FAGGOT WHORE. GET BACK IN THE CAR!"

Zeke barks this order as his son, but we won't ever know if Cliff would have willingly got back in the car on his own. Because Zeke doesn't waste a second picking the boy up high above his head, throwing him into the cab of the vehicle, and slamming the door shut. Cliff, who has clearly awoken from his zombie-cock loving state, looks close to tears.
"Now come on in," Zeke says to Marco, "And help me bring in Jeremy's dad too. It's time for us to have a meeting of The Fathers."
THE END 

                              chapter 3  " The prison "
 
Artie pulled out of his son with a sickly, greasy, slimy slurp. Some stuff poured out of the kid’s asshole—his massive, insane load and whatever juices he had felt sloshing around inside Owen. He looked down at his cock, still unable to believe how big it was, even though it was softening. It was a good few inches longer than it had been before, probably right around 13 now. And the girth! Good lord the girth! He used to be able to fit his big hands around his member, but not anymore.  Of course, to really understand his girth, all he had to do was look to his son, Owen, who was lying there on the grass, shivering and staring blankly at the chipper blue sky above. “Jesus,” Artie muttered in his southern accent as he surveyed the damage he had just done…for the fifth time that morning.

He didn’t know a child’s hole could look like that. He didn’t know it would take on such a purpleish color. And was it supposed to hang like that? It kind of worried him, but then he remembered how this had all started.
Archie zones out while staring at his son’s wrecked pussy. It had been a morning like any other. He’d woken up suddenly EXTREMELY hard – harder than he’d ever been in his life. And bigger, like he was now. He got out of bed for some reason—looking back he couldn’t remember why. And just as he went out into the kitchen  that Owen had appeared too, running and moaning like a crazy person, his tiny feet carrying him unbelievably fast. And he had attacked Artie. Attacked his own father.

The kid was tearing at him, mumbling some nonsense that Artie couldn’t make out. But it became pretty clear pretty quickly, as they struggled, what Owen was after. After all, the kid kept saying it over and over again: “Kiss me daddy! Kiss me on the lips! Please! KISS! KISS!”

No way was Artie going to kiss his own son. His son wasn’t some faggot who liked kisses. Sure, the kid had no mommy to kiss him, but Artie hadn’t spent years taking on the burden of this kid by himself to raise some sissy. So he took off running to get out of the house and away from the moaning boy.  But goddamnit if the little guy didn’t catch up with him by the time they reached their front lawn. It must have been Artie’s massive throbbing hardon that slowed him down, and there was so much blood in his cock he couldn’t think. Which must be why he did what he did.

Right there on his lawn he had turned on his boy, grabbed the little kid’s ankles as he ran, and tripped him, hard, onto his back. As the kid fell down into the dewey grass, Artie decided to take care of two problems at once: his kid and his cock. Next thing he knew, he was full on fucking his whining little snot of an offspring, and all of the sudden the kid changed his tune. No more, “Kiss me daddy!” It was all silence and moans and screams and wails. But he took it. That’s what matters. He took every inch of cock right there, even when Artie stopped or adjusted, or pulled out to take a rest – the kid didn’t move. He didn’t even put his legs down. Sure, he still cried and screamed like a bitch when he was getting fucked, but he didn’t try to get away.
And when they were interrupted – well it was a hazy memory because he was mid-child-fuck, but it sure seemed like Owen had pulled his daddy back into his ass. Could that be possible? And who had interrupted him? He had a sense that it was his no-good neighbor, Zeke, but if so he couldn’t remember. 

Whatever. He had now dicked his kid a good five times in a row, and the kid was still laying there like a zombie. 
Artie did have a few ideas of what was going on. As he’d been fucking away his only offspring, he’d seen other kids and men running through the neighborhood. But none of the men were like him. They were all trying to get away, while he was enjoying the sweet creamy filling of his son’s innards. He wasn’t quite sure if Owen could say the same, but judging by the kids he saw running by, more than a few of them would have liked to have the massive, insane anal pounding he was doling out to his own son. But for some reason, whatever changes were going on made Artie want to bury his lead pipe in his son and only his son, as long as that was an option.

Artie snapped out of his trance. He realized that as he’d been staring at his boy’s hole, lost in thought, the little purple and puffed out edges of Owen’s wrecked pussy had disappeared. Yes, the hole was definitely shrinking right before his eyes. In no time, it was back to its virginal splendor, tight, intact, like it’d never had anything up it at all.  And that was all it took.  Artie’s massive boner was back at attention and ready for work. It didn’t take long for the head to pop in. At this point, he was tired of worrying about his kid. His cock was way more important than his son at that moment, and if the kid wasn’t gonna put up a fight, he was going to keep taking care of their little problem the only way he wanted to.

Owen, meanwhile, has a bit of a different reaction. Reader, did you have your hateful father’s 13 inches 【33 cm】 buried so deep in you that you thought you’d puke out cock? If not, then you have no idea what Owen is going through.

“Oh son,” Artie says as he moans at the ecstasy that is his son’s ripping hole. “Oh I love fucking you. How could I have wanted so long? Well now that I know, this is all we’ll—“Kisses…” Owen’s voice is so tiny and meager, its barely a whisper. “Kisses.”

Owen doesn’t get a kiss. Instead, he gets a big loogie from his father spat directly on his right eye, followed by a starling slap in the face from Dad’s big hand. 

“NO KISSES FOR MY FAGOT SON! ONLY COCK! Spit on your face is the only thing you’re getting from now on, every time you ask for a kiss!” shouted Artie at the top of his lungs. He didn’t have to worry about who heard him. He knew what was going on—the boys were sluts, and they needed to be taught a violent, but necessary, lesson. 

His anger seemed to work, because Owen promptly shut up. He just sat there, squinting with the spit on his eye, whining and whimpering with each thrust, as his daddy went to town. 

“Now here’s the deal, kiddo.” squish squish squish. “Daddy’s got a plan. You remember your Uncle Bobby? Daddy’s big brother? The one who went to jail when you were a little boy for what he did that kid? Well he’s been trapped in jail for a long time, and I think it’s time we went and rescued him. What do you say? Spread your legs if you agree. SPREAD YOUR FUCKING LEGS.”

Owen only moaned and cried a little in response, then spread his legs a big further. 

“I knew you’d agree,” Artie said. “We’ll go as soon as I’m done here. And you’re gonna come with me and do whatever I say, aren’t you?”

“Yes…Ugh…OUCH…oooh…Dadddy….yes…UGH…Daddy!” Owen cried out, just as loud as his father had been. His voice was so high pitched and girly it pissed off Artie pretty bad, and he started longdicking his son once again. That always finished him off.

In and out he thrust like a madman, enjoying the popping, squishing and tearing sounds he made with each violent reentry. Owen took it like a champ, sorta. If you can call screaming yourself hoarse champion sort of behavior.

Artie felt another one of his massive White Trash loads coming on, but just before he shot, he was struck by a sudden urge. Pulling out of the kid with yet another noisy slurp, Artie leaped forward with incredible deftness, and pointed his dirty cock point blank at Owen’s face. Soon, Owen’s daddy made his right eye match his left eye. Because right in that red little eye, with its beautiful green irises, is where the first spurt of Artie’s jizz lands.

It went as you would expect. Jizz everywhere. Baby sauce all over the grade schooler’s wet face. The final volley went right into the little slut’s mouth, because Mr. Artie was just pulling that jaw as open as far as possible, and then two more inches, to get all that cream in there. The boy was swallowing as fast as he could, but his little gullet just wasn’t designed for loads this size. After all, cum wasn’t his need—kisses were.
Artie stood up, finally feeling satiated. “All right, son. Let’s go find Uncle Bobby.”

                                                                               ***

Artie and his son stood, buck naked, outside the gates of the California State Correctional Facility. They had traveled all this way on foot, and it had taken all day. Normally, they could have walked it in just a couple hours, but Artie had to stop every 20 minutes or so to satisfy his boner via his son. 

Artie and Owen did everything while they traveled. Owen got fucked lots, yes. But he also sucked some major cock, gagging on it and getting his first face fucking right on the pavement road toward the beginning of their hike. He got facefucked so hard, in fact, that he was picking gravel out of his hair for the rest of the walk.
He sucked on other parts of his Daddy, too. He spent a good long while sucking on Artie’s filthy toes (Artie was walking completely naked) while daddy jerked off his own cock and let the baby goo rain down on his baby. Owen became well acquainted with his father’s armpits and their smell, too, as he sucked on his own dad’s armpit hair.

The little guy was no longer a stranger to his father’s adult asshole either. Artie rested his feet for a while by sitting on a bench in a park, but not before he took Owen and placed the child on the grass, his head back on the seat of the bench. Yes, while Artie rested his tired doggies, little Owen lapped and sucked at his dad’s hairy hole without complaint.

That was the curious thing about it. Owen clearly only wanted kisses, but somehow he knew that he could boss his kid around, and the kid wouldn’t do anything. It was as if, by denying the kid his coveted kisses, he had transformed the boy into a total cock zombie. How nice! And that was exactly what Artie planned on telling his jailed brother.

I’d be lying if I didn’t say that Artie was a bit scared of entering the prison. First off, it was a prison, so that in itself was intimidating. But more so, he was nervous about seeing his big brother, Bobby. It had been almost 10 years since he had seen Bobby. The last time was when they had been in court for his hearing. Bobby took the fall for something bad that both he and Artie did. Artie thinks back to that day, by the creek, with that unfortunate little boy who wandered a bit too far from the adults at his birthday party.  The two of them had really fucked that kid up. Right there in the dirt. But it hadn’t been like it was with Owen. That kid was no willing cock zombie. But he ended up doing pretty much everything anyway. That’s what happens when you’re that young and small, and your tormentors are two big, white trash bullies.  But Bobby had admitted to doing it alone, and was sentenced to prison without his little brother. Artie’s wife had been pregnant at the time, and Bobby didn’t want to see his little bro go to jail. The big oaf could be very protecting.  But Artie hadn’t visited, hadn’t even sent a letter to his brother. He felt terrible about that, but he was about to make it up to him in the bestt way possible, using his son as a peace offering.

                                                                               ***

As soon as he and his son were inside the prison walls, Artie knew something was different. He had been to this prison before, albeit not to visit his brother, and he knew it was infamous for overcrowding. But now, as he walked the halls, he saw that there were only a handful of men left. About one in every three cells was occupied.  But the racket they were making was enough to make it seem like the prison hall was at double capacity. That small group of men behind bars were screaming and moaning as if they were in pain. As they walked the hallways, Artie realized exactly why the men remaining were moaning. They were all buck-naked and ROCK HARD, so rock hard that many of them had pools of cum and precum lining the floors of their cells. These men were clearly deprived of what Artie and all the men on the outside had been deprived of: child hole. And it was driving them insane.

Poor Owen was trembling and terrified, especially because as he walked by, the vicious caged men reached out for him, rattling their bars (and balls) and screaming bloody murder. A few of them even spit on the kid, and one or two managed to shoot some handsfree cocksnot through their bars and hit him like a moving target. But Owen, being the obedient, brain-dead boy he was (having been deprived of his need for so long) simply trembled, cried a little, and followed his daddy to the back of the prison.  To the maximum security, isolation cell. 

That’s where Uncle Bobby was kept, because he was known to be too violent, too strong, and too dangerous to be around other prisoners.

But apparently Artie felt he wasn’t too dangerous to be around his only son. “You go in first. I don’t wanna see him before he’s unloaded.”

“But…but…kiss daddy?” muttered the idiot child. God, so annoying that all he can think about is kisses! 
“Uh..yeahh….sure…I’m sure Uncle Bobby will kiss you. That’s his thing. Now go in, Owen, before I get angry.”
Once again playing the role of the obedient slut, Owen went over to the handle turned it, and walked into the all white isolation chamber. 

The bright florescent lights were bright, so Owen didn’t have a chance to look at the uncle he’d never met before…The six-foot-eight, prison-muscled, tattooed man roared and leapt on the child. It had been years since he’d had that tight pussy so long ago, and over the past 12 hours or so, his cock had never been harder.  Owen didn’t know what had hit him. He had been standing against the door, scared of his uncle, in desperate need of a kiss. The door he was standing against had a small, square window about three feet up. 

The next thing Owen knew, his face was pressed hard into that glass, because the man had lifted him three feet in the air and plunging the child down onto him balls deep. He impales right into that hole that is so desperately trying to heal itself from its last father-son fuck session. 

It was the perfect height for Artie, who was still on the other side of the glass, to watch his little boy’s face contort as his anus tasted his uncle’s cock for the first time. It made him shoot. And he aimed for the window.
So while Owen is desperately trying to accommodate the 13-inch 【33 cm】 child abuser cock that is tearing his guts apart, he is treated to a lovely show of his own father’s splurge. 

“I fucking hate that kid,” Artie mutters, and then enters the room himself.

By the time he gets inside, Owen and his loving Uncle Bobby have already moved into a new position. Now, the little kid is on his back on the floor, his ankles being crushed by two massive, tattooed hands. Poor Bobby was so blue balled and deprived of his NEEDS that he was just going to town on the boy’s hole. You can see that Owen’s ass cheeks, once pale and smooth, are red and somewhat welted. Not from spanking, you see, but from the sheer force of his uncle’s massive muscular thighs slapping into the kids pale, abused mounds.
Owen walks in, and instead of greeting his long lost brother, he takes a moment to sit on Owen’s forhead and give the zombie slut a little taste of salty daddy ballsack. Yum! I’m sure Owen would say yes, if he weren’t so brain dead from having been denied HIS need for so long: a sweet, loving kiss from daddy. He’ll have to settle with that nutsack we mentioned instead. 

With the youngest member of the family fully stuffed, the two brothers were now looking each other in the eye for the first time in a decade. Neither of them missed a beat as they stared, however. Uncle Bobby kept longdicking the little slut with every ounce of his energy, while Artie used his big hands to bounce his nutsack in and out of Owen’s accommodating mouth. 

“Bobby, I’m—” Artie started.

“Don’t,” Bobby grunted at his little brother. “Is this who I think it is?” To indicate who he was talking about, Bobby spat on Owen’s plummeting and falling little stomach.

“It is…this is Owen. Your nephew. I—“ That was odd. Artie started to mist up. Was he touched by seeing his brother again? 

“Did you—did you bring him for me?” Bobby asked. And sure enough, his big, tough, muscled, tattoed brother also got a little wet around the eyes, even as he continued to shove his pole deep into the child between them.
“I did—Bobby I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I never came to visit you. It was just so hard to—after what we went through. But everything’s changed! I…I don’t know if you know this but there’s something happening on the outside. The boys have gone crazy and I—“

Bobby put up his big hand, stopping his little brother from talking. He paused, his cock to the hilt in Owen’s guts.

“I know, bro. I know. Something – something changed in here too. Yesterday at some point. All of the sudden, all of the guys were gone. The prisoners I mean. There’s only a few of us left—and the two guards that were here abandoned us to starve. I was in solitary when it happened, but I could…I could sense it.”    

“That’s—that’s awful,” Artie said as he looked at his brother. The man wasn’t just a big boy-raping oaf—he was a big, sensitive boy-raping oaf. The anger he showed when he pummeled Owen’s interior simply vanished when you looked at his eyes.

Bobby began his thrusting again as he gazed into his long lost little brother’s hard brown eyes. They had been apart for so long—but now that they were together something had changed. 

First, Bobby leaned into the boy, burying himself deeper in the groaning child than he ever had before. Then, Artie inched forward, allowing his son to make contact with his hairy hole for the 5th time in his life. 
And then, something completely unexpected happened. The two big, trashy, muscular, homophobic, redneck brothers fell into a kiss. Not just a peck on the lips either, a deep, passionate, adult kiss. Their brotherly tongues flew into each other’s mouths as they kissed desperately. 

Meanwhile, these two vicious siblings continued to shove ruthlessly into the little child. Because the kiss was so passionate that, whoops, wouldn’t you know it? Daddy’s cockhead slipped right into his pink, whining mouth-cunt.

And in during their passionate kiss, Artie and Bobby do something only two brothers can do – they ejaculate exactly in unison. Spurt after identical spurt fills both the gullet and the guts of little Owen as he lay on the prison floor. The little boy has now made out with ass lips and piss slits, but still no kiss on the mouth from Daddy to satisfy him. He has more than enough cum to last him for months, though, given what his daddy is depositing in his throat and his new beloved Uncle is injecting directly into his bowels. 

Finally, when they were done, the pulled out of the boy with two wet slaps, letting their cocks hit the floor. Then the boy collapsed on the ground, exhausted from their orgasm and emotional reunion.

But Owen was still unsatisfied. In his zombie like state, he crawls up on his floor, stumbling, wincing, and yelping as his little anus tries to reorganize itself into something appropriate for his age. It’s a painful process, but something in his new genetics makes his hole extremely eager to get back into shape, no matter how much it stings.

But the boy is unstoppable. He crawls up to his Uncle, and puckers his lips. He’s just about to get the kiss he’s been longing for when his uncle’s tattooed fist comes forward and knocks the kid back.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?!? YOUR SON JUST TRIED TO KISS ME!” Bobby roars. He always hated faggots. 


“Oh shit. OWEN. LISTEN TO ME!” Artie grabs his son by the face and forces the dumb, brain dead child to look him in the eye. “YOU DO NOT KISS MEN. NEVER. I KNOW IT IS WHAT YOU NEED, BUT YOU DO NOT KISS THEM. NOT UNLESS ORDERED TO DO SO. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” 

Owen trembles in his big father’s hand, too scared and confused in his zombie fog to answer.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” 

This time the boy nods, and Artie lets him fall to the floor.

“Sorry about that. Look, something’s going on with the kids. They all have—like—these needs. I heard them screaming as they ran around outside today. Some of them want…well they all want sexual stuff. It’s weird, Bobby.”

“You think that’s weird, you should hear what Dr. White is saying.”

“Dr. White? He’s—he’s still here?” 

“Fuck yeah he is.”

Artie allowed this information to settle in as he watched his son curl up on the prisn floor in the corner. Dr. White was here, in this jail. He had been a renwend scientist in their city, until he had lost his mind. He had tried to create some sort of sonic device or something. Artie never was sure of the details – he didn’t read much being a redneck. But he knew it was bad, and that everyone had been calling him a Mad Scientist or Evil Genius. Before his big mistake, he had been a hotshot, considered a total genius, expected to win a Nobel prize some day. But he’d been in prison for almost 20 years—and he was still here.

“What does Dr. White say?” Artie asked his brother.

“Let’s go ask him.” 

The two men walked up the hallway of the prison, each holding one of little Owen’s hands, half guiding him, half dragging the exhausted slut. They ignored the cries and moans of the men in the cells, each one still jerking furiously as they sniffed the little cunt walking by. They ascended the stairs and found another cell at the top, set off from the others. Inside sat the famous, corrupt, evil genius: Dr. White. 

Dr. White had been extraordinarily handsome, and Artie could see he had remained so in the slammer. The man was still tall and stately, but his once neat hair had grown out and gone white, now jutting in every direction. Still, he looked as though he would fit well into a white lab coat, even though he was wearing an orange prison jumpsuit.

Dr. White had been loved for his intellect, and even after his scandal, he was still regarded as a genius. He had always been a little loopy, even before his scandal. But it was clear now the man had come undone. However, there was something about him that distracted Artie and Bobby from all this—his massive boner, which was still zipped up in his orange jump suit. The thing was huge, the throbbing head of it almost reaching the man’s muscular chest. It was leaking prefuck inside the jumpsuit, making a big stain in between on the orange fabric between his pectorals. 

“Go on,” Bobby said to his fellow inmate. “Say what you’ve been saying.”  Dr. White remained silent.

“I don’t get it,” Bobby said, turning to his brother. “The guy wouldn’t shut up about his theories last night.”

“Him.” 

Bobby and Artie both turned to look back at the Mad Scientist behind bars. The man was pointing with a big, long finger at Owen.

“Him?” both brothers said in unison. Dr. White nodded solemnly. 

Bobby turned to Owen, feigning concern, but saw his brother smiling proudly.

“Looks like my son is gonna be our little slut canary in a prison coal mine. Let’s send him!” 

Bobby turned the complex locks on the door of the man’s cell, and opened it only enough to allow Owen to slip inside.

Everything happened so fast. There was a loud unzip as Dr. White unleashed his own scientific Weapon of Mass Destruction. The veiny monster slapped out straight forward, having been compressed for far too long. And wouldn’t ya know it, but that very cockhead that was once spewing precum was now spewing cum. And it wasn’t wasted on a jumpsuit, either.

The first surprise shot of cum hit the top of Owen’s head. The kid was so shocked by the splatter on his mop of brown hair that he looked up, just in time to catch the second rope right across the lips, like a milk mustache. 
Well, the next thing ya know, the politician had grabbed the boy by the lips, pulled him over, and shoved his cockhead all the way in in one swift movement. For the second time in the last 20 minutes, Owen was choking down sperm desperately, still thinking longingly of a kiss on the lips. He’ll never get it. Surprisingly, as the Mad Scientist continued to unload his perved up, pent up sperm into the kid, he began speaking. At first it was mostly grunts, but it soon turned to somewhat of a lecture.

“AH FUCK! FUCK SWALLOW KID SWALLOW! AH YOUR DADDY TAUGHT YOU RIGHT, DIDN’T HERE…AHHH THERE YA GO. THIS ISN’T WHAT YOU WANT, SO IT’S EXACTLY WHAT YOU GET. THAT’S PERFECT. YES! YOUR DADDY DID A GOOD JOB! YES HE DID! HE GETS IT! HE GETS IT JUST LIKE US! SWALLOW FASTER YOU CUNT!” 


Owen didn’t have much choice, seeing that the massive dick that was splitting his lips was lodged about halfway down his throat. 

“WHAT’S HIS NEED?” Dr. White barked at Artie as his dick continued to regurgitate inside the boy’s gullet.
“His—is need?” Artie said.

“FUCK YEAH! HIS NEED! YES! WHAT HAS HE BEEN ASKING FOR??”

“Uh…kisses. He wants to be kissed.” Artie flushed when he said this. He didn’t like having to admit that his son, who was currently on his knees gargling dicksnot, was a homosexual wanting a kiss.
“HAVE YOU KISSED HIM YET? SWALLOW YOU LITTLE FUCKER!”

“Uh…no. I haven’t… I’m not gonna do that to my kid. I’m no faggot.” Artie and his brother shared an embarrassed look.

“EXCELLENT!” The Mad Scientist roared as he pulled his cock out of the kid’s throat, finally done ejaculating his thick and creamy seed.   Owen once again fell to the floor in the fetal position, wracking with coughing, gasping for air, and maybe muttering the words “kiss me” in his tiny voice. The men were all too distracted to hear him.

“Listen to me,” Dr. White said, leaving his prison cell now that the door was open and he was satisfied. “You must never, EVER give him what he needs. It’s essential. It’s not…it’s not how it’s meant to be.”

“Here we go,” said Bobby. “This is the kinda stuff he’s been saying.”

“You cannot give the boys what they need. It’s not right to do so. Amoral in fact. What we must do is focus on us, on our needs. That’s the whole point…the whole point of it all. The boys’ needs must never be met, but we must satisfy ours. That’s the only way it will work…that’s the only way it’s designed to work.” The man had a bit of an insane look in his eye, though he still was incredibly scientific, logical in his delivery, and the intelligent spark was still there. 

“Only way what’s designed to work?” Artie asks. “SHHH!” he barks at his kid, who is still coughing on the floor, making it hard to hear.

“I’m…I’m not at liberty to say. But trust me, I know things. Let me explain. Something has happened, and now all the boys have a need. I’m not sure how it happened, but I know that no child under the age of 18 was exempt. They need something, preferably, it seems, from their fathers, but they’ll take it from anyone. It’s truly disgusting if you think about it. 

“But there’s a way around it. You…you see….you can give them their need, but they’ll never be fully satisfied. They’ll always come crawling back for it. And if you deny them their need entirely, they’ll starve. But there’s a loophole, you see? I figured it out. A loophole. You don’t have to give them what they want…but if you still give them something sexual…what YOU want…then they…they….well they start to act like your son here, Mr…”
“You can call me Artie.”

“Arite. If you deny the boys their need, but fuck with them however you please, you get this delightful little creature we have here in my cell. A cockslut. A total cum whore. A ZOMBIE BOY! He will listen to your every demand until he gets what he needs. He is completely under your control JUST AS LITTLE SLUTTY CHILDREN SHOULD BE!” Dr. White let out an insane laugh here that went on and on and on. Artie and Bobby looked at him uncomfortably, but joined in the laughter too. Soon, the only one who wasn’t laughing was the very zombie slut they were laughing at, Owen. 

Suddenly, Dr. White stopped laughing, and became very serious. “We have to get out of here. Don’t you see what this means? We can…collect. We can gather. We can get the children and make them ours. We could have…a veritable army. But we have to go now, before…before their fathers find them and try to ‘save them.’”
“Wait a minute,” Artie put up his hand. “How do you know all this? You have an awful lot of information for someone who’s been in prison for so long.” 

“No time to explain. Listen to me,” Dr. White put his big, scary eyes right up to Artie. “You can either waste time here, and the three of us can share your son, or you can work with me and get us out of here. We have to head out and gather the boys. We can do it, but we must hurry or all the good ones will be taken.”

The phrasing Dr. White used, “the good ones,” got both Bobby and Artie instantly hard again. 

“Well, we can’t just go out there,” Artie said. “If we’re gonna do this…if we’re gonna kidnap boys and make them…ours…we can’t just go out like this. Any other dads we come across will kill us.” 

“We need muscle,” Bobby said. “And I know just who we can get.” 

The three men and the little boy soon arrived at Dante’s cell, and he was just as intimidating as Bobby had made him out to be. At almost seven feet tall and several hundred pounds, the big, black, bald, musclebound prisoner was one mean motherfucker. As they pulled up, his orange jumpsuit already hung at his waist, and his big nigger cock, much thicker than the others they had seen so far in the prison, was raging hard and trying to wedge it’s way through the cell bars. It was too thick.

“He doesn’t speak. He’s mute or something.” Bobby said. Then, under his breathe, “And uh…not real bright. People have said might be retarded or something. But anyone who said that got the shit beat out of him by Dante himself.”

The three men looked at the dark monster pacing his cage silently, like some pedophilic black panther, staring at the little child and stroking his massive brown dong. 

“Well, I think we know what we need to do. Let’s test your theory, Dr. White. Owen?” Artie motioned for his son to step forward.

The little boy followed the command, trembling, his terrified eyes still trained on the scary black prisoner. 

“Owen, go in there and let that man satisfy himself. We need to talk to him, and you need to calm him down.”

A tear trickled down Owen’s cheek, but then he obediently stepped forward and began to work at the lock. In his obedience he figured it out pretty quickly, and soon the lock released.  The door flung open, and two big black arms, as big as baseball bats, reached out, grabbed the tiny white trash child, and pulled him in. Owen was smothered in sweaty black flesh instantly.   Turns out Dante wasn’t completely mute. He screamed, groaned and roared like some freakish African monkey-lion hybrid, then took the child and cockwhipped him so hard that Owen could see stars. Our heroic little grade-schooler watches these stars as he’s flipped over onto his back, and his little legs are yanked up roughly, so that the kid’s pretty much just balancing on his neck.

“Uh…careful—“ Artie started. But Dr. White put up a hand to protest.

“NO. You have to let him.” 


That shut Artie up, and he went back to not giving a fuck about the welfare of his offspring. It was a good thing, because less than a second later, Owen’s upper intestinal tract was introduced to its first flavor of African Nigger Prison cock. And good lord did it hurt! Somewhere in Owen’s consciousness, he can hear something pop as his legs are pushed back further. All he wants is a kiss, but instead, he’s getting about a foot and a half of raw, skin on skin, nigger dick. Say it with me: "FUCK THAT KID."  Now say it out loud, dear reader. Take your cock in your hand and say it. “FUCK THAT KID!” SAY IT! It makes this author so happy to think of you home alone, your perv cock in your hand, reading this story, and saying out loud to no one in particular, “FUCK THAT KID!”   You get your wish, you sick dear reader of mine. Fuck and fight are pretty much the only two good things big, dumb, Dante is good at. It’s not quite clear which one he’s doing with Owen. Sure, he’s definitely fucking the kid. His giant gorilla monster of a dick is plunging in and out of the boy’s ruined hole as though he were nothing more than a sack of putty. That’s pretty much what Owen has turned into, anyway. Child guts aren’t meant to take that much prison nigger cock. 

But he was also apparently fighting with the boy. Every time he shoves each and every inch of that chocolate pain stick into the boy, he slaps the kid hard across the face. It sounds a-little something like this:

SLAP SLAP SLAP
“AGEOIRUAWOIUEOPIRUA”
SLAP SLAP SLAP
“AGERPIAUAWIOUIOU!!!”

Did I mention that there is also the lovely tinkling sound of Owen’s sobs? The boy is outright, straight-up crying now. He’s still a zombified slut, but even a total desperate cockwhore like him can only take so much. Each thrust of the man is a new rip and tear in his pink little anal ring. Each slap is another shock that brings another round of stars to his field of vision. The fact that he’s in a prison cell getting slapped around by a sick, angry, gorilla nigger, is also factoring in to his tears, but on completely subconscious level.

Finally, it looks like the Nigger Ogre is about to cum. He pulls out of the kid roughly, the head of his cock sticking for a moment and lifting Owen clear off the ground. Then the mushroom head of his cock pops out, literally with a POP, and Owen crashes back down to the ground. He lays there for just a moment, but a moment is all he needs to see something that makes his little heart sink.

Standing outside of the cell are the three men – the strange scientist, his scary new uncle, and his once-beloved Daddy. Are they looking on in concern, worried for the safety of the little child? Are they planning a way to rescue him from the massive monster that is tearing him apart? Are they cowering, afraid of the man, but desperately sad to see the little guy abused in such a way? No. NOT AT ALL. Instead, he sees three grown men, each holding on to the other two mens’ cocks. They are stroking each other wildly, and making out at the same time, all of them still eyeing the scene in the cage. Their cocks are spewing precum so much that there’s a puddle on the floor, and their mouths are wet with spit as they furiously make out. But even with all that work, they are each staring happily at what is happening to Owen.

That’s all Owen gets to see for that moment, though, because pretty soon he feels the big black fist in his hair, pulling him up. He’s too ruined and throbbing to support himself on his legs, but the black guy just lets him hang by his hair, grunting. He starts to stroke his big black dick wit his free hand, pointing his Nigger CockGun straight at Owen’s whimpering face. 

Then the first jet hits the boy so hard, if he wasn’t being held up by his hair, he surely would have gone flying across the room. Owen squints his eyes shit and tightens his lips, not wanting any of the Black Prisoner Cum to get in his mouth or eyes. 

“OWEN!” Artie barks. “OPEN YOUR MOUTH!”  Immediately, the little boy’s mouth is open. The next five ropes of white juice shoot directly from the man’s massive, black nuts straight down the little white boy’s throat. The kid gags and sputters as he’s forced to drink the man’s Nigger seed, but not once does his mouth close.

  “AND YOUR EYES!” his Uncle Bobby cries.

Owen lets out an upset wail and moan, but then his eyes are open. The prisoner, being the cruel, abusive, violent offender that he is, takes advantage and squirts two identical jizz shots into each of the boy’s eyes, blinding him with cum once again. What a day Owen is having! 

Finally, the silent prisoner is done cumming on the child. The boy looks like a glazed donut, but a little fire has disappeared from the eyes of the child fucker. He now looks calm enough to approach, so Dr. White speaks up to him.

“Dante, listen. You can have that child whenever you want, if you make me a promise. You understand?” Dr. White talked to the man like he was talking to an ape or a retarded child or something. But the man grunted and nodded and smiled.

“Good. You can have him whenever you want, as long as you promise to protect me and the men you see here. No matter what. OK?” 

The dumb nigger grunted and smiled again. 

“OK. Great. Now we’re gonna let you out. Don’t hurt anyone…except the kid…”

The man grunted once more as they opened the cage door again. Dante reached down and grabbed Owen by the hair and literally dragged the trembling young thing out of the cage and into the prison hallway. The boy couldn’t anything but slide along for the ride.

“OK,” Dr. White said. “We’re almost done. There’s just one more person we need to see.”

Bobby looked at Dr. White with a curious glint in his eye. “You’re not…not really gonna say…”
“Oh yes,” Dr. White says. “We’re going to go get the Ice Cream Man.”

THE END

                                    chapter 4  " The plan "
   
Zeke was too mad himself to look back at his middle son, who he had just fed some serious cock to, and then thrown onto the driveway. It wasn’t that he was mad at himself – he was mad at what he had done. He had played the game, whatever kind of fucked up game it was, and he had lost. Whatever had happened to him – and all the men – overnight was more powerful than him. Whatever was coursing through the veins in his perpetually hard and massively thick and long cock was able to overpower him and make him do things – horrible things – to two of the boys he loved the most. And what was worse, whatever was going on with Mason and Cliff and the other boys seemed to be powerful – WAY more powerful – than them. They were completely at a loss for their needs. Mason was a slave to his thirst for cum; Cliff owned by his need to have dick in his gullet while getting verbally harassed like no child his age should. 

But as Zeke crossed the driveway, he vowed to stay strong. He knew he had to adapt or survive, so beating himself over what had happened following his son’s rescue wasn’t worth it. He had to go with the flow, even if that flow meant using his kids for sex. If he panicked, that would mean he would never see his oldest son or his wife again. Though the wife thing wasn’t so bad. But it would also mean that he would never figure out what had happened to his sons. And that wouldn’t stand. He’d be getting to the bottom of this boy fucking epidemic if it killed him. 

He was feeling confident as he turned the doorknob of his home, still smelling the air from the fire across the street. But when he opened the door and saw what was going on in his own living room, all of that confidence was replaced by blind rage. 

In the middle of his living room kneeled his little, tiny son, Mason. The kid had the blank eyes and a mouth that seemed to open unnaturally wide for a kid his age – the telltale signs that he was in full zombie mode.
And just inches from that outstretched, pink hole of a mouth he had, was a simply enormous, pale, veiny and smooth white cock. And out of that white anaconda shot what was the largest gob of cum that Zeke had ever seen anyone, shoot, EVER. Even on porn. And do you know where that giant loogie of cock snot went? STRAIGHT into Mason’s happy, waiting mouth.

Zeke took just a half a second to look the man attached to the cock that was currently shooting two, three, four and five more giant gobs straight into his baby boy’s mouth. He was the youngest guy in the room, and by far the skinniest. But boy was this kid ripped! And that pale monster between his legs is absolutely deadly for that child in front of him. The guy has a fucking PacMan tattoo on his hip bone. He’s tall, but lanky, with dark, messy black hair and thick, plastic rimmed glasses.

Those very glasses flew across the room as Zeke tackled the man, knocking him mid-orgasm to the floor. He was so intent on beating up his son’s big-dicked assailant that he doesn’t even notice that as they fall to the floor, Mason follows with his tongue out, deftly catching some of the cum that’s still spewing jizz everywhere, and licking up off the floor what he misses. 

Zeke raises back his big arm to punch the guy square in the face, but he feels a hand stop him. He looks back in anger and sees Clark, his read headed, meek neighbor from across the street. Clark! He had given Clark the task of watching over Mason. How could he let this happen? And why was he stopping Zeke from giving the man a pounding of a lifetime?

“CLARK! WHO THE FUCK IS THIS KID AND WHY IS HE IN MY HOUSE?”

“Zeke, please! Calm down. This is PacMan. He goes to high school with your son, Hunter. I saw him outside and called him in – I – I needed help. Mason was…exhausting me…”

Zeke glanced down at his neighbor’s cock, which was usually also pale, thanks to his fair skin, like PacMan’s. But now Clark’s cock, which was ginormous to begin with, was even bigger because it was swollen, red and throbbing. It had clearly been jacked beyond raw. 

“I don’t know what happened,” Clark continued. “But your son – he wouldn’t stop! It wasn’t like when he gets it from you. He was insane!”

“How many loads?” Zeke said quietly, trying to control his anger.
“I—I don’t think you wanna know.”
“HOW MANY LOADS??”
“43,” PacMan said in a smug voice. “Well, 43.5 to be exact, if you count that last load.”
“FORTY FUCKING THREE LOADS OF SPERM? WE WERE GONE 45 MINUTES!!” 
“And a half,” PacMan said from his place on the floor.

Zeke was roaring, and about to pound his fist into PacMan again, but this time his fist was stopped by two hands. Two very tiny hands. Two hands belonging to Mason, who had stopped his daddy from beating up the man who just fed him very thick and white cum. 

Zeke stood over his bow, towering over him, and looked down at the little guy’s big, blue eyes. Damn – how was it that those eyes (when they weren’t in zombie mode) were able to make him relax so much? Then Mason threw his arms around his daddy’s waist and started kissing his father’s hairy sick pack.

“Please daddy,” kiss kiss kiss “Don’t hurt PacMan. He helped me. It tasted good!” 

And then Zeke realizes that Mason isn’t kissing his tummy. No, the lil guy is lapping at his dad’s abs. Yes, he’s lapping at the few splatters of cum he hadn’t already guzzled down his little whore mouth. His own son, practically twisting his dad’s stomach hairs around his tongue to get every morsel of the cock cream there was to have. 

How could Zeke be mad at Nelson for giving the little guy what he needed? He had seen how persistent Mason could be, the boy had always been stubborn. And besides, he saw what happened when Mason went without cum. He took a deep breath and reached his hand out to Nelson, helping the nerdy stud to his feet.

“Right. I’m Zeke.”

Zeke came back to his senses, and realized that introductions were necessary. Marco, the burly, hairy cop who had rescued him, had followed Zeke inside, holding in his arms like some twisted King Kong the still passed out man, Jeremy’s father. Behind him was Jeremy himself, who only moments ago had been chowing down on stranger ass, and finally Cliff, Zeke’s own son, who was still dazed from the rough face fucking he got in the car from his pop. 

“Jeremy, what’s your dad’s name?” 

“Dean,” Jeremy said in his shy voice.

“Right. Marco, put Dean on the couch over here. This is my neighbor, Clark, and that’s PacMan, apparently. This is Clark’s son, Nate.”

Nate was a teenaged boy, skinny and pale and redheaded like his father. He was picking a red pubic hair from his mouth. “Hello,” he said as he examined it, then popped it back into is mouth and swallowed it.

“Clark, everybody, this is Marco. He’s on our side. And this is Dean, and his son Jeremy. They’re with us too. Clark, can you help Dean? He’s been hit on the head and was bleeding pretty bad.”

Clark was a nurse, and flew into action when he heard that someone needed his services. He was a good man like that. “Do you still have the First Aid Kid I gave out at the block party last year?”

“Yes, it’s upstairs in the bathroom.”

Without being asked, Clark’s Son, Nate, took off up the stairs. He was eager to help his dad, now that he had had his fill of his father’s testicles. When he returned, Clark sopped up some of Dean’s blood and the man started to come to, still dazed. 

“Where—Where am I?” Dean asked.

“What happened while you were gone?” Clark said.

“So who are the boys?” PacMan asked, a bit too hungrily.

“Are you sure you can trust this guy?” Marco asked.

“Where am I?”

“What happened to your son?”

“Will you feed me next time, Daddy?”

“QUIET!” Zeke roared, and the room fell silent. He had leapt up onto the coffee table that stood in the middle of the room, the men and boys in a circle around him. “Listen to me. This is chaos. Everyone in this room is now in my tribe, do you understand? We’re in my house, so I’m in charge. If anyone has a problem with that, speak up.”

No one spoke up, though PacMan coughed quietly. Zeke gave him a look.

“All right. Then on top of that, everyone in this room has my trust. We are a tribe now, men, like the Cave Man days, and we have to stick together. To stick together, we need a leader, and since you all are turning to me anyway with all your questions, I’ll just take on that role myself. Now listen up and I’ll tell you all what happened.”

Then Zeke filled everyone in on the details of what he knew, what had happened at Jeremy’s house with the masked intruder, and everything else he could think of. They all just listened, silently stunned.

“Everyone clear? Now, we need to make a plan. It’s not safe here. There are boys everywhere, and our kids are in danger. We need to get out of here. Out of the suburbs. I have a plan, and anyone who likes it can come along. Anyone who doesn’t like it is out of the tribe. All right?”

Another long pause of silence. Everyone seemed to agree.

“We’ll take the boys in this room and the ones we have in the Paddy Wagon in the back and we’ll get them out of here. I know a place in the Redwoods where we can go. I’m a Park Ranger after all, so I have keys to it. It won’t be very big, but we can all fit. Some of us might have to sleep on the floor.”

“But to get to the redwoods, we’d have to go through the city, won’t we?” Clark asks. 

“Yes, we will. But if we stick together, we can make it. The only problem is, there isn’t enough room for all of us in the police wagon, and my son, wherever he is, has my wheels. Clark’s burnt up in the fire.”

“I have a car,” PacMan said. “It’s my mom’s Mini Van. Well, it was. I think the rest of us can fit in there.”

Zeke looked at the boy. This kid was irritating and strange, but at least now he had a purpose. They all had a purpose. Zeke was their leader. Clark, their medic. Marco, their security. Dean had revealed that he’s a city planner, and knows the city like the back of his hand. PacMan…their driver.

But as if PacMan could read Zeke’s thoughts, he piped up to make it known that he was more useful than just a driver. Pushing up his glasses in a really nerdy way, and taking on a voice of pure pretension, PacMan said, “And ACTUALLY I am the only one who has any sort of idea what’s going on.”

Everyone looked at him in disbelief, but he kept going as if no one was paying him any special attention.
“Look, clearly whatever’s happening has happened a thousand times before. In movies, books, comic books—you name it. This is a pure apocalypse story ripped out of some perv’s mind. And I can read that mind. I’ve read every zombie novel and seen every zombie movie. I know that whoever created this world—and yes, I assure you it was someone specific—he had a mind not unlike mine. So it might be best to keep me around.”
After a moment of silence at this speech, all Zeke could say was, “I see.” The boy seemed to know what he was talking about, as annoying as he was. Plus, without PacMan they’d be stranded without a way to transport the boys. So it was worth it to let the little weirdo tag along. Plus, his body was fucking hot. 

Together, maybe this ragtag group of fathers and friends could protect these boys, and if need be, keep their needs fulfilled until they could figure out a way to undo what had been done to all of them. 

“Uh, Zeke? What about the boys in the back?” Marco asked. He had moved to the window and was looking at his police wagon, which was rocking with the weight of the angry boys inside who had been denied what they needed for so long. 

Ah yes, the three children in the back of the truck. Zeke had forgotten about them in the hubbub. They were still back there, and he had no idea who they were. But they were sons, and all sons needed protection. He would want someone to protect Mason if he was lost out there in the world. The boys were part of the tribe. And then Zeke said something he never expected himself to say.

“We’re gonna have to give them our dicks. Or whatever they want. We can’t travel with them like that, and it will keep them quiet. Listen, Men, we need to accept that this is our new duty. To fuck our children. It sucks, and it hurts, but we have to do it. For the boy’s sake.”

“For the boy’s sake,” the men all said together. Zeke thought that made a good motto for the gang. And he was happy to see all of the men were listening to him so intently.

“All right. Then let’s start bringing in the boys.”

Without having to be asked twice, Marco and Clark, who Zeke now saw as his Right-and-Left-men, stood and marched out the busted door leading to the garage and to the driveway. 

“Boys, get up on the stairs,” Zeke barked at the children in the room: Mason, Cliff, Nate and Jeremy. They didn’t need to be asked twice. Like little cock-satiated soldiers, the three boys who had so recently gotten their needs from their fathers, obediently marched up the stairs, their tiny and smooth asses bouncing in unison. When they got to the top, Zeke ordered them to sit and watch through the railing posts.

“You…you sure you want them there?” Dean asked, his voice still ;trembling and weak following his recovery form his head injury.

“Yep. They need to watch. The boys don’t understand what they’re like when they are in zombie-mode, and the sooner they k now, the better. Got any other questions?”

Dean just leaned back on the couch, clearly in agreement with his newfound leader, or else too woozy from his head wound to suggest that maybe his young son shouldn’t watch the methodical man-on-child sex that was about to happen.

But Zeke was already setting up the room. He moved the coffee table aside, and dragged a couch, his muscles bulging, across the room to face the couch already running parallel to the couch where Dean was sitting. Now the two space in between the two couches was clear and wide open, like a stage, with seating on either side. Zeke plopped himself down on the couch next to PacMan, trying hard not to keep his face hard. Trying not to betray the fear – the fear of what Marco and Artie were about to bring through the door. The fear of what kind of disgusting fetish the next child would have in, and who – or what – would have to satisfy the whore-child’s needs. 

But this was the right thing to do. The children they had picked up were family now, too, along with all the men and boys in the room. If they wanted to band together, this had to happen, so he had to remain strong. Strong for all the men who were now relying on him to keep a hard exterior and maintain calm in this time of utter boyslut chaos. 

Zeke’s musings are cut short when he hears the snarling from the garage, and then sees Clark and Marco return, holding each arm of the 15 year old boy who had attacked Zeke in the garden, just before Marco saved him. He knew what this one wanted – armpits. He remembered how the boy had feasted on his own sweaty underarms like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. And by the look of the brunette’s adorable, freckled and twisted face, he was even hungrier now than had been then.

“This one likes pits,” Zeke says matter-of-factly. “Anyone want him? It should be a pretty easy one.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, and with a creepy smile on his face that Zeke does NOT like, PacMan rises from his place on the couch, his long, pale cock at attention, and raises both his hands up in the air. His pits are just as pale as every part of him, and lined with dark hair. A tattoo Zeke hadn’t noticed till know of a dragon stretches to his left pit. 

The display of these two sweaty armpits is too much for the boy being retrained by the two adults. His boyslut-strength allows him to break free, and in no time he’s across the room, his face buried as deep as humanly possible inside the nerdy teenager’s armpits. 

The boy is somewhere between snarling, growling, moaning and whimpering as he laps at the pits like a hog. But something stranger is happening that has the attention of every other man and boy in the room. As the boy licks, and in time with his hungry pit-laps, PacMan’s cock seems to grow bigger, and thicker. It’s getting redder too, its paleness fading, and the veins coursing through it are throbbing in rhythm with the licks. 
It’s pretty clear what’s going to happen. 

BLAMO! Without touching himself, PacMan throws his head back and unloads a load that, if you can believe it, is even thicker and chunkier than what he had spewed into Mason’s throat only a few minutes ago. 

Most of it lands on the floor in the middle of the room, pooling at Nelson’s feet. And as he begins to come, the boy licking his pits slowly begins to stop lapping hungrily, instead just lazily moving his pick lick tool through the pits already so wet with his saliva. And eventually, he stops entirely.

Unfortunately, the scent and sight of cum has sent off little Mason once more, who seems to bound into full-on Zombie mode. He’s near the top of the stairs, watching, and in no time he busts open the wooden posts on the railing blocking him and jumps onto the couch below, landing on Dean’s lap. 

But he only stays there for a moment, because after all, there’s some salty jizz from a stranger’s cock right there on the living room floor, and it’s still hot.  Mason it loves it most when the jizz is still hot from cooking in those tasty balls.

Like a miniature Spiderman, the little tiny boy leaps at least five feet to get to the cum, making pore Dean hurt even more.

But that doesn’t seem to bother Mason. The little grade-schooler only has for cum.

Unfortunately, before the disgusting childhood cum addict can make it to the puddle of dirty jizz on the floor, a big, firm hand grabs him by the nape of his neck and literally lifts him off the ground. Mason dangles there, his legs kicking furiously, reaching for the cum, tongue out, while his dad dangles him and gives him a stern look. Because Mason has “fed” only recently, the stern look from Papa actually gets through.

“NO MASON. YOU JUST ATE. And we need you to stay calm. I want you to eat up all the jizz when the men are done. Trust me, there will be a few more loads coming and we’ll leave them all right there on the floor where you can get them. But you have to wait, OK?”

These words bring tears to his eyes. “But – but”

“NO BUTTS LITTLE BOY!” Zeke shouts as he drops his kid to the ground and slaps him hard, once on each cheek. That seems to do the trick, and sniffling back his tears, Mason makes his way back up the stairs. 
Zeke turns to the teenager who has just spent some time enjoying the armpits of a total stranger. 

“What’s your name, son?” 

“Luke,” the boy says.

“Hah! Luke the licker!” PacMan shouts. Zeke gives him a dirty look, but PacMan just smiles.

“Hello, Luke. You’re OK. We’re here to help you. Do you know where your family is?”

The boy shakes his head. “I was home alone. My mom and dad were out and I haven’t seen them since I – since I started…needing those.” He nods at the arm pits. “What’s happening to me?”

“I don’t know, son,” Zeke says, patting the boy reassuringly. “But we’re gonna find out. We’ll find your family too. But in the meantime, you’re part of our family, OK?”

The boy nods. He’s strikingly handsome for a young teenager, looking a bit old for his age, and very well defined, though skinny. His brown hair is wiry, much like armpit hair, and judging by his sizable teen cock, he’s a Jew.

“Now run up the stairs with the rest of the kids. We have one more boy to take care of. Marco, Artie—go get the next one.” Zeke tries once again to hide his fear. He knows what the next boy is like. He remembers him from the encounter outside. The boy had tried to slam himself down on Zeke’s dick. The kid was impossibly small and just as young as Mason. And he wanted to get fucked. Who would fuck the kid?

He looks to Marco and Artie, and notices that neither of them have moved. He raises his eyebrows in question.
“I uh—I can’t get the next one,” Marco says, hanging his head.

“Why not?” Zeke asks.

“Because…because he’s my son.”

The room falls silent. Marco’s SON? MARCO’S SON? The tiny, innocent little boy gagging for cock up his ass is Marco’s SON? Holy shit! Zeke thought he had it bad, his youngest being a total cumhound, but at least his son didn’t need to get his guts rearranged by cock. Good lord!

“Do you…do you know his need?” Zeke asks carefully.

“Yes,” Marco says. “It’s worse than you think.”

“I know what it is,” Zeke says, putting a hand on his new friend’s big, broad shoulder.
“No, you don’t. It’s not just that he wants to get fucked. It’s that he—he—I can barely say it. He likes to clean off cock after it’s been—soiled. He likes to lick dirty dick. GODDAMNIT! MY LITTLE SON IS ADDICTED TO LICKING COCK THAT IS COVERED IN BOY PUSSY JUICE!”

The men and boys in the room gasp as this revelation. A boy who likes to lick dirty cock? At that young age? How is it possible?

“Well, it has to be done,” Zeke says quietly after a few moments have passed. “But you should decide who will do the deed. We’re all family now. Whoever you want to do it will do it. Whoever you choose will man up, right men?”

All of the men in the room nod, each one looking at the ground. It’s clear none of them really feel up to the task of anally raping a child and then feeding him their dirty cock. But it’s a dirty boyfucking job and someone has to do it.

The men are all standing now in a circle around Marco. The big, burly, hairy wolf of a man looks at the men around him, taking each on in carefully, considering their cocks. Which one would give his son what he needed? Which one would take his son’s virginity?

His first inclination is to look to Zeke. He is their leader after all. But one look at the tool between the man’s legs – which is big and hairy and throbbing hard at this point – and he knows that the nearly 15 inch 【38 cm】 fuck tool would do irreparably damage to his child’s untouched fuckhole.

Then he looks to Artie. The man is a good man, Marco can tell, and though his tool is extremely, devastingly huge, it might just do the trick for his slutson. But then he looks at Clark's nut, the once-pale sack completely red and raw. Fuck! His child has even sucked all those redheaded pubes off his father’s ballsack. How disgusting. No, Artie clearly needed to rest.

Dean was the next option—but Marco had to rule him out pretty quickly for one reason and one reason alone – the man’s cock head. While his dick length was only about a foot, shorter than the other men in the room, and his girth was slightly less than a beer can, what he “lacked” in his shaft he more than made up for with his insane cockhead. It was about the size and color of a delicious, big, juicy red apple, though he had never seen an apple throb like that. And while the rest of the cock would be a peach compared to the other dicks in the room, envisioning that mushroom head of doom popping into his son’s virgin hole was far too much.
That left PacMan. PacMan who had deliberately dumped buckets of cum into a stranger’s young son. PacMan who had willingly lifted up his arms and let a handsome teenager munch on his hairy pits. PacMan who said vile, hateful things with a smile on his face—the clear misfit of the group. Marco hated nerds, always had, and so PacMan was definitely not going to be the one to take his son.

So who could do it? Marco found his answer when he looked down.

Between his legs, Marco’s cock had grown to proportions he never thought possible. It was literally bouncing up and down as he considered his options, the head rising and falling in an arc almost a foot high. It was as if it was nodding at him, saying, “Yes, it’s me. I’m the one. I’m the one who has to chart into uncharted territory known as your son’s guts. I’m the only one who can give your son what he needs – a vicious anal pounding for his first time, followed by some heavenly cock gobbling. And deep down, you know some part of you wants to watch that, Marco. You want to watch your son clean off his virginal cunt juices and whatever else is coating your cock after you give him the pounding of a lifetime. And the time is now.”

“Go get my son,” Marco barked, grabbing his cock with both hands, “and clear a space.” 

The men didn’t have to be told twice. Zeke dismissed PacMan, Dean and Artie to go out to the car. He needed a word with Marco, his best pal, who was clearly having a bit of a freak-out. The man was jerking his cock wildly, and his gorilla dick was bigger and thicker than it had ever been. But what was going on in the man’s groin was very different from what was going on in his head, Zeke could see. The man was freaking out, trying to cope with the fact that in just a few seconds, he’d be preparing to slide the massive, painful tool he was currently double fisting into his young, tiny, only son. How could it be that one man’s cock could want the VERY opposite of what his brain told him to do? And how could it be that the cock was going to win out? 

“Marco, look at me,” Zeke said, placing a firm hand on his new friend’s round shoulder, and commanding his gaze. 

The two hulking, muscled, hairy, big-dicked fathers stared each other in the eye. Two men in a new world.  

“Listen to me, Marco. I know we don’t know each other well, but I trust you and I think you trust me. So I’m going to tell you the truth. You are doing the right thing. The creature that is about to come through that door isn’t your son, what’s his name?”

“Bry,” Marco says, barely speaking.

“Ok. There is no more Bry. Not right now. Bry has checked out, and been taken over by a wild animal. A viscous creature. So I want you to stop thinking of him as your son, or your Bry, or your little tyke or your tiger or whatever fucking nicknames you have for the kid. You need to start thinking of him as ‘it.’”
“’It?’” Marco asked, his voice every so slightly stronger.

“Yes, It. It’s a thing. Not a child. A cock-addicted animalboy, not the little baby you sprung forth from your massive cock. He’s in serious need of gut rearranging, because he is not your little pal, your special little guy or your grade-school smartie anymore. He’s been taken over by some strange, terrifying beast. And I know you want to save your son from that beast. But the only way to do that, is to feed the beast what it needs. Capiche?”

Zeke could barely believe the words coming out of his mouth. Marco was apparently in shock, because he was staring blank-eyed at Zeke. So Zeke gave his friend a hard slap across the face to bring him back to reality. The reality of a world where boys were made by their fathers to be used, sexually. The way life should be.
Marco recovered from the shock by stroking at double-time, up and down his yardstick of a dick. 
“What is that thing out there in the garage?” Zeke asked.

“It.”

“WHAT IS THAT THING THAT WAS ONCE YOUR CHILD?”
“A…A…cockhound.”

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Zeke said in his best drill sergeant voice.

“A WILD ANIMAL THAT IS OBSESSED WITH HIS FATHER’S COCK! A CHILD THAT NEEDS ME TO PLUNGE INTO HIM, MUCK UP WHATEVER IT IS HE LOVES SO MUCH< AND FORCE FEED IT TO MY CHILDSLUT ANIMAL BEAST!”
Dean, PacMan and Artie returned with the very animal beast he was discussing just in time for the cockhound to hear his father say these words. Not that any of it got through. The kid was foaming at the ass, gagging and whining like a sick puppy, snarling for his father. 

Artie and PacMan figured that whatever Marco had just yelled was enough for them, and released the child. You’d think a kid that hungry—the only child in the room who hadn’t gotten his fix yet—would be able to make it to his father in a half a second. And he was. But his father was able to make it to him in a quarter of a second, being a full grown man, and he tackled his son in the middle of the room, falling with the kid in his arms down into the pool of cum that Mason was still eyeing so thoroughly. 

The weight of a large, full grown, muscular man was apparently a bit much for the little tyke to handle, because he was momentarily stunned. Which gave Marco just enough time to grab the boy and flip him over so that the tiny little guy was on his stomach face down in the puddle of man jizz.

The men and children watching had a chance to marvel at the contrast between father and son. While Marco was the most bulky, hairiest guy in the room, with dark Italian features, olive skin and messy, wiry black hair, little Bry—the animal slut—-couldn’t be more different. They shared the same wiry hair, though Bry’s was a bit longer. The kid was TINY, tinier even than Mason. He had none of the bulk of his father, though that might be because he was till years away from puberty. But his frame looked delicate and breakable under his smooth, white skin. But apparently he was pretty sturdy, because Marco didn’t mind pressing the kid down into the cummy floor with one fist as hard as he could, and pinning his son there. 

“YOU ASKED FOR IT, YOU GOT IT! NOW GET READY TO GIVE ME MY SON BACK!” Marco screamed at his own son. 

Then the room was rendered silent by a horrifying squelching, ripping, tearing, stretching sound broke across the room. There was just a single second of silence. Then the screams began.

It was hard to tell with little Bry whether the screams were because he was finally starting the first journey to his first new meal of his lifetime. Daddy-bum-sperm-fuckjuice or whatever it is the slut likes. OR are they screams of pain at the feeling of a softball-sized cockhead, wielded by none other than Dear Old Dad, ripping his virginity into a million pieces. And at such a young age! But for the sake of argument, let’s assume they were screams of happiness at finally getting what he wanted. Otherwise, the rest of this chapter may be a little upsetting.

Because Marco was so in the zone, buried a few inches into his offspring, that the screams didn’t startle him for a minute. No, the defunct police officer just leaned forward pretty quickly, watching with a grunt as his fuck tool was  sent to the rescue, straight into his boy’s guts. 

There was a bit of magic in the air, because that boy’s torso was NO WHERE near as long as his father’s. And yet the child made room. He cleaned his little butt hole and found some extra space, because in no time dad was buried in. He was crushing his son down into the pool of cum, and he was so much bigger the kid just wasn’t visible anymore. He lay there for a second, allowing his cock to really sit in his child, only moving his hips back and forth.

Meanwhile, Bry’s screaming didn’t let up, though they were comically muffled by his father’s weight. What’s going through the slut’s mind? Is he able to figure out that the pain in his tummy is going to translate into the fulfillment of his need? Can he wait any longer for his dad to withdraw, so he can see the remnants of his virginity on his father’s insanely long pole? And then lick it up? Or is he just totally zoned out zombie slut boy? 
Marco was moving his big ass in wide circles, like he was dipping a dipstick into a paint can. He was clearly cleaning out the boy’s insides, making sure he really coated his meat in his son’s innards. How did he know to do this? Was there something-some father son bond—that told him to do this? Would the other men have known how to so thoroughly gather the slutgunk inside the kid? Your guess is as good as mine.

But finally, he seemed to think he had gotten enough, and with another horrifying squelch, he withdrew every inch of his dick from his boys’ guts. Then he fell back onto his hands, letting his son get up, his still hard and throbbing cock thoroughly coated in shiny childslut slime.

And though he had just taken more than a foot of cock, and though he was still only able to get through half of his ABC’s and didn’t know how to multiply, the little guy was well enough to get up and crawl, slowly, his hindquarters limping a bit, so that his face was in his father’s legs.

And he looked up at the cock towering above him. Licked his lips. And leaned forward.

I want you to imagine that for a moment. Picture the boy, smiling despite his red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, leaning forward, tongue out and inches from the underside of his father’s gargantuan cockhead. In just milliseconds, the little grade-schooler will taste something no child he knows has ever tasted. His own interior. And what tool will distribute this delicious gift? Well the intense and scary meat that was just buried in him – his dad’s!

Yes, as Bry would have said, had he been able, “Daddy you fucked me weal hawd!”  But he couldn’t speak. He could only faceplant into his fathers dick, where he began lapping hungrily. He spent time sucking on the head, in an adorable way trying to fit the whole thing in. When that didn’t’ work, he started to go for the kiss-and-lick-method, spending extra time digging deep into his father’s piss slit.
“That’s it boy,” Marco was saying, “Lick it up.” 

But then something unexpected happened. When the kid got to the underside of his dad’s cockhead, he accidentally nipped his dad a bit with his puppy teeth in his eagerness to taste his own butthole. It hurt Marco, made him yelp – but it also did something to his dick. It made it explode.

Yes, a fireworks display of jizz showered over Bry and the floor, and Bry could only watch. He was slowly coming back to himself, less insane with hunger, but still awed by the thick ropes of jizz that shot a foot high in the air, then landed down on hi m.

Of course, this also got the attention of Mason, who was watching form the stairs. But Zeke was too shocked by the whole thing to stop his son this time.

Suddenly, Marco was sitting with a still-ejaculating dick, in a pool of cum, with the two youngest and tiniest boys in the room. Finally the cum stopped showering down, and a few spurts dripped down the dick.
Mason went to down on the pool on the floor, even lapping underneath Marco’s thick thighs and ass to get it all. He didn’t’ seem to mind the dust on the floor. At the same time, Bry was back on his father’s cock, sucking and licking hungrily at the whole mess. Including the cum.

Mason noticed this as he pulled his face out of the puddle on the floor, his cute little mug dripping with cold floor-jizz.

“Do you like that stuff too, Bry?” He asked in his “Do you wanna play?” voice from days of yore.

“This white stuff! Yeah! It tastes good. You like it?” said Bry in an unbelievably tiny voice, in between laps of dirty dick of course.

“Yeah!”

“OH!” Bry said excitedly. “Then you gotta try this!” He gestured to Mason to Join him. Mason obeyed, and Bry grabbed his father’s dick in both hands, and turned it so a part of the cock that wasn’t covered in fresh cum was exposed. 

Mason looked at it, sniffed it, and then to the shock of every adult in the room, stuck out his tongue and started lapping at it. 

“Yum!” he said. “I like this stuff too! Do you mind sharing?” 

“Sure!” 

And just like that, Mason and Bry became best of friends, sharing their needs, and working together to clean of Zeke’s now spent cock.  They were like little explorers, pointing out different parts to clean up to each other, comparing tastes, laughing all the while. The men were either too shocked or too exhausted to interfere.
The rest of the men reclined on the couches, watching the spectacle, waiting for it to be over. But the boys were thorough! Finally, after nearly an hour, the two of them couldn’t find anything else disgusting to lick, and the both had bloated tummies. 

Zeke took this as his cue to get up.

“All right. Everybody upstairs. We have enough bedrooms for all of you. We’re going to sleep for a few hours, and then I want everyone back here at 4am. We’re heading to the city.”


                   chapter 5  " The school bus "
   
They decided to split up and take two separate routes around the city. Zeke figured this would cover more ground, and though he didn’t say it, if one car ran into the trouble, at least half the boys and half the men would be OK and able to carry on. It was a dangerous world of man boy sex, and even The Father almighty had to admit he didn’t know what may await him in the city. 

Zeke and Marco took the police paddy wagon. In the back sat Marco’s two young sons, Cliff, a middle schooler, and Mason, the baby of the family. They also had Marco’s little tiny boy, Bry, riding back there. 
The other men took PacMan’s car to the south, through the Little Havana, the Cuban part of town. 

Zeke and Marco were headed into the ghetto—the black neighborhood. It was a bit more dangerous, but Zeke felt they were better equipped to handle what may lay there, compared to the other men, who were all a bit smaller and less….alpha. 

Everything had been going well until about halfway through the trip. They were traveling real slow when they passed an overturned school bus.

“What the FUCK is a school bus doing in this neighborhood? These kids take the bus!” Marco cried out as he slowed down the car. He drove real slowly by the bus, looking for any bodies inside. But there were none—it was empty.

As he drove by slowly, Zeke was able to make out the name on the side of the bus. BREYERSON ACADEMY. The all-boy private school on the outskirts of the city. SHIT. They started school an hour earlier, didn’t they? That very well meant that the bus could have been traveling through this neighborhood when the boys and men all changed. Which would mean…

Zeke and Marco looked at each other, and it was clear they both knew what had happened. The boys had freaked out, probably gone after the bus driver, flipped the bus…and then set off in the city in their zombie-like state, looking for ANY man to satisfy their craving. 

Those boys were all rich little snots from the wealthy part of town. Zeke knew the school well—he had wanted to send his boys there but couldn’t afford the tuition. It was a nice school, despite the snobbiness. But those boys were mostly pussies—there was no way they would survive a second in this part of town.

“We have to rescue them,” Marco and Zeke said at the same time. 

“What about the boys?” Zeke asked.

“What boys?” Marco said. Zeke looked down at his new best friend’s uniform—a khaki pair of coveralls. Sure enough, Zeke’s massive boner was leaking a pool of precum halfway down his thigh. These new cocks of theirs were crazy. Any time you got a hard on, it was like you couldn’t think straight.

“OUR BOYS,” Zeke said, trying to snap his partner out of his horniness. “Our sons? In the back?” 

“Oh. Right. Well, there’s no way anyone’s getting in back there. It’s three feet of steel and locked about one hundred times. They’ll be safe if we just park them in an inconspicuous place. “

“Seriously? Leave our kids in the middle of this goddamn neighborhood?”

“Zeke, our boys are a hell of a lot more safe than however many fucking kids were in that school bus. We have to try and help them!” 

Zeke got serious for a moment, thinking of the implications. Could he really leave his naked children in the back of a police car, unguarded, in the middle of the city? 

But then he thought of what might be happening to those boys. Their little white bodies slithering out of that school bus. Prowling for cock. Searching down dark alleys and in dumpsters and crack houses…just for a fix. Goddamnit. It was a fucking drug war on children! Child sex addicts gone wild. And NOT in a good way.

Once outside the car the both adjust their cocks in their khaki coveralls. The uniforms Zeke had picked out for all his men – those just like the ones he wore to his job as a National Park Ranger – were useful because they let them whip out their cocks at a moment’s notice. However, they did nothing to hide hardons, and they all pretty much just had a constant wet spot of white where their frothy precum had worked through the fabric. 
Marco reaches back into the police car one more time and withdraws two guns. He hands one to Zeke. “Just in case,” he says seriously. 

Zeke nods and tucks the pistol into his waistband. Then he gives two pounds on the back of the truck. They listen together to the children moan from inside. They were already getting ready to go into full special-needs mode.

“Kids? Look uh…stay here.” Zeke shrugs his shoulders at Marco. What else could he say? “Your daddies will be right back. We just gotta go…take care of something.”

There were a few muffled moans, and little Mason’s high pitched voice said, “Cum, daddy?” 

“When I get back, kiddo,” Zeke said, feeling his own cock throb against his stomach. Then he turns to his companion and the two big, burly, horny, armed men venture out into the scariest part of the city, leaving their boys behind. 

                                                                      ***

Zeke and Marco didn’t have to go far. The escaped Breyerson Academy boys must have been desperate, because from the sound of it, they were all crammed inside one ramshackle, half-abandoned apartment building that was only a block and a half away from where the bus had crashed. 

The two men stood across the street in silence, cocks throbbing in unison, as they listened to the frightening, disgusting, erotic sounds coming from the graffiti-covered building. 

The building itself was scary enough on its own. Half of its windows were broken or shot open, and it hadn’t been painted in about 100 years, by the looks of it.

But the sounds were much worse. It was almost deafening. The two men could hear hard slaps of flesh followed by whimpers of pain and surprise. A sickening, wet squishing sound—very rhythmic—was coming from one of the upper floors. 

And beyond that there were deep, male voices. Moaning, groaning, screaming in what sounded like pure rage. They were black men’s voices—no doubt about it—while such pathetic whimpers and slurps and cries and wails could only be coming from little white boys. 

“FUCK THAT WHITE KIDDIE BITCH! GIVE HIM ALL YOU GOT!” came the loudest voice of all. “TEACH HIM WHAT FUCKING HAPPENS WHEN BOY WHORES COME WANDERING INTO THE GHETTO”

And then there was a truly heartbreaking sound that sounded gooey, wet, sharp, disgusting noise that could only mean one thing.

“Those niggers are fucking those kids,” Marco said.

                                                                           ***

Two hours later they had devised a way to get into the building. Under Marco’s lead, they surveyed the building and found a fire escape that went around the back of the building. It was rickety and rusty, but it allowed them to see into each floor of the building, hopefully without being seen. Judging by the sounds in the house, whatever was going on there was pretty distracting. And let’s face it—in the last 72 hours they had figured out that when your 6-inches 【15 cm】 deep in your own son—or any boy, it was the best, most intense, purest sort of pleasure a father could experience. These guys wouldn’t notice two grown men scaling a fire escape, watching their boy-fucking escapades, would they?

They hoped not. But just in case, they each brought a handgun.

Marco helped Zeke up onto the fire escape, and then the burly man pulled himself up first. It gave them a perfect view of the room that took up the first floor. It’s a dingy room—painted a sickly yellow. In the middle of the room is an ugly, woolen, green and gray recliner. It looks like it’s about to fall apart, like someone’s been jumping up and down on it for years. 

BuBut it’s what’s happening on that chair that’s truly alarming.

Seated in the chair, bare ass naked, is a tall, thin, black man. He’s got mocha-colored skin, and he’s just skinny as a rail, with real long arms, and two lean, black legs stretched out on the end of the recliner.

And popping up between that footrest is, for certain, one of the Breyerson Academy boys. He’s still got his uniform on, in fact. Or sort of. It’s a bit sooty and tattered – like he crawled through a war zone. But you can still make out the blue blazer and khaki pants – now covered in oil stains and city grime. And something else—something very wet. 

He’s got a nice thick head of hair, sandy blonde, and entangled in that gorgeous hair is a big nigger fist. 
“Oh my dear god,” Marco whispers. 

“Jesus Christ in heaven,” Zeke agrees.

The little grade-schooler isn’t just sucking dick. He’s nearly being killed on it. White strings of spit and froth hang about his face like he’s some stray mutt. He’s shoved all the way down the big black dong – which is insanely long, looking enormous even on such a tall guy. 

Up and down the kid goes. But what’s really astounding is the amount of spitty, slimy, cock-juicy froth the impalement has worked up. It’s everywhere. All over the black guy’s skin, making a sharp contrast of wet white on muscled black. But mostly it’s all over the kid. All over his face, his mouth, his neck – even matting down his beautiful hair. He’s just utterly, and completely drenched – like only a seriously slutty boy of the highest caliber. They always did say “The Best Boys Come From Breyerson.” 

Oh god, what was Zeke thinking? They had to bring an end to this, NOW. He started to withdraw his gun, but he felt a strong hand squeezing on his muscular shoulder. He looked back at Marco, who was holding one finger up to his lips. Then in the quietest voice possible, the gruff police officer said, “We have to case the whole place. Just bursting will get us killed.”

Zeke gave a look back at the scene in the room. He allowed his eyes to focus for just a single, quick moment, on that foamed-up cock junkie getting his youthful throat absolutely torn apart. Choke-fucked children. And then he followed his companion up the stairs.

Halfway between the first floor and the second, they heard a shocking, exciting sound: a woman. A woman’s voice. Moaning, screaming, wailing—but still, a woman’s voice!

The two fathers scrambled up the fire escape, thrilled to hear the sound of a woman for the first time in days. Where had all the women gone?

But when they got to the window looking into the next room, their faces full of hope turned into sheer disappointment.

It was another dingy room, much like the first one. A bit brighter, but still dilapidated and scary. Graffiti on the wall. A dirty mattress in the middle of the floor that Zeke was certain some druggies had been shooting up on before the Epidemic began. 

Spread out on that mattress was not a female, but a white teenaged boy. Another Breyerson Academy student, no doubt—the school went all the way from kindergarten through high school. 

This one tugged at Zeke’s heart strings—the boy on the mattress reminded him so much of his still-missing son, Hunter. The kid on the mattress was a horny What was going on with his eldest son? Why did thinking of him make Zeke’s cock go crazy? WHAT was his son’s need, and who was giving it to him?

These questions only served to distract Zeke from the shocking scene in front of him. Because that white teenaged boy was not alone on that mattress. No, he was accompanied by a big, hulking black man. 
Unlike the first one, this guy was no long and skinny thing. He was rounder, bigger and all around more intimidating. But what these two were doing was so out of character for them both…

The big black stud was face deep in that jock boy’s beautiful, sculpted booty. And he was going crazy—not unlike the kid downstairs. This black man was eating this kid out in a way that was going to make the kid felt like he’d been really fucked. It was intense, sloppy and noisy, full of grunts and groans.

The kid—who by all means looked like he could have been the quarterback for the Breyerson Academy Chiefs football team—was the one making the noises like a woman. As he was getting his pink, teenaged hole masterfully eaten, he was screaming and moaning like an absolute woman.

It made both Marco and Zeke blush.

This room didn’t fill them with the fear, anger and dread that the first room did. Unlike the little boy downstairs, who surely must be totally unwilling to do what he was doing, this boy seemed to be really enjoying what was happening. And the big black hulk wasn’t raping the kid, he was just eating him out like an aggressive pro.

Once again, Zeke wanted to bust in, but once again, Marco stopped him. He motioned upward. One more story to go. And they knew from the sounds they had heard earlier that was going on up the upstairs room was by far the scariest, most sickening.

They could hear it as the ascended. Deep, dark gangster voices—too of them, over gags, squishes, whimpers, and little screams that were quickly cut short. 

They rushed to the window and peered inside. It was the attic—and not a nice one, either. Just floorboards, roofing, graffiti, a few dirty rags here and there, and lots of dust and cobwebs. No place a child of any age should be.

But in this room was the smallest child they had encountered yet—just about the same size as Marco’s tiny son, Bri. He was pale as a ghost—though maybe it was just the contrast of what was going on with him. He had a mop of very curly, dark brown hair. Just the tiniest, most delicate little boy the men had ever seen.
Unfortunately, he was NOT being treated with care. He had two companions in the room with him—two of the scariest looking niggers the men had seen yet. They were both tall—about 6 foot 5—and they appeared to be identical twins. One had a row of gold teeth in the front of his mouth and the other wore a red bandana over his bald head. Both of them were ripped as shit—clearly spent lots of time at the gym—and both were covered in intense gang tattoos.

He was taking them in both ends. Jesus Christ, the kid was taking two identical Colored, nigger, gangster cocks at once—one in each end. What was the world coming two?

He wasn’t even on a bed or a mattress or a table. No, the kid was suspended in mid air. Bandana, who was pummeling the kid’s throat into putty, was holding his arms while thrusting his hips forward into the child’s face. Meanwhile, Gold Teeth had the kid’s ankles wrapped around his waist, and his big hands covered the boy’s hips while he impaled the child with every inch of his ginormous nigger cock he could.

Zeke nearly passed out.

Those two evil niggers had worked up quite the rhythm with the small, scared, alone child they had between them. Zeke actually almost laughed cause it was so cute. As bandana would pull out, gold teeth with thrust in, making that disgusting SQUISH sound. The sound of a child’s innocence being fucked apart. But fuck it was so wrong.

No child that size should be tossed around like a ragdoll for two nasty gangsters. It was insane. How could a child that small take two cocks that were SO HUGE? The nastiest whore you know wouldn’t touch these guys with a  ten-foot pole. They were just TOO big. And two too many.

So how did they manage it? Zeke wondered. How do they manage to stuff what must be over a foot of nigger cock into a child whose torso was barely a foot long? It defied physics, and yet it was happening.

“Fuck, my niggah,” said bandana. “I think he needs us to switch again. That thing is happening.” 

“Fuck yeah, nigga. I fucking feelin' that shit too. Fuck this kid—so goddamn needy. I’m ready when you are.”

Marco and Zeke could only watch in horror as to what happened next. 

SQUIIIIIIIISH SQUIIIIIIIIISH

At the same time, the two gangster gorillas pulled out of the child. Bandana pulled his out with a mighty pop, but that Dirty ‘ol Bastard Gold Teeth is having a much harder time. Because the child between these two nigger fuckers was not exactly able to fall off a dick just like that. His hole was simply too small. 

Zeke suppressed another laugh. Why do I find this disgusting act funny and adorable?? Zeke wondered as he watched Gold Teeth do a sorta comical Black Face routine, trying to extract the head of his cock from the child’s innards.

Meanwhile, Gold Teeth just watches as spit and precum and who knows what else dangles from his massive black tool all the way down to the ground.

POP SQUISH

“AHHHHH!” came the child’s scream.

“Finally!” Banda says. NOW SWITHC!”

Again, Marco and Zeke can only watchin' horror. 

That hole barely has time to recover from its extraction before Banda runs around and shoves the entirety of the length of his nigger dick into the child. The kid just sorta makes a squeaky noise as he takes a cock that is too big for an adult, let alone a kindergartner. 

But that’s nothing compared to what Gold Teeth does. Despite the fact that he’s just pulled that Anaconda cock from where the sun don’t shine, he’s about to slide the fat head of his child-deflowering-nigger-dick square into the tiny tyke’s mouth cunt. Gold Teeth doesn’t even want to touch his own dick considering the renovation he had just given the grade schooler’s guts. No, he puts his big, tatted biceps behind his head, bucks his hips to slap the kid with his cock, and grunts, “Clean this shit off, white boy.” And the cock somehow disappears once again into the child. 

Then they resume their rhythm. 

SQUISH SQUISH SQUISH

“We have to do something,” Zeke whispered to Marco. He couldn’t stand it one second longer. “We have to do something RIGHT NOW.”

Marco looked at his new friend, his face hard as stone. He too was compelled to help the children, but as a police officer he was curious to know what the best plan of attack was. He also knew, however, that being a good law officer meant reacting quickly, even when all the facts weren’t known. Judging by the look on Zeke’s face, he was going to react one way or another no matter what Marco did, so he figured he’d just do his best and hope they made it out safely.

“Follow me,” Marco whispers as he begins to descend the fire escape. Zeke looks at his friend, wondering if he can make himself follow when he knows what’s going on in that room. He gives one last look through the window, and sure enough the poor little white boy is still being spit roasted on two gargantuan nigger dicks.
“How many is that now, bro?” Gold teeth asks his brother.

“231 in the mouth and…ahhhh FUCK dat’s tight still….230 in the ass.” 

Zeke shudders and follows his friend down the stairs. He watches in shock as Marco slowly raises the window. The beautiful muscle teen who’s being eaten out is still screaming like a woman. But at the sound of the window opening, he raises his trembling head every so slowly. Still screaming like a total bitch, the stud looks at Marco and his green eyes go wide.

I know that kid! Zeke realizes. He’s the quarterback on the Breyerson team! Jesus how could I not recognize him? He’s the best in the fucking state! 

Oh—I know how come I don’t recognize him—cause instead of riding around town in his pickup truck with a bunch of teenaged girls, he was face down in a dirty mattress in the slums of the city with a nasty nigger munching on his pink hole. 

Marco put his finger up to his lips to tell the boy to be quiet, then immediately realizes how ridiculous that is. The boy obviously wasn’t capable of being quiet while getting a tongue bath from a stranger. 

But the kid seems to get the message. He continues to writhe there on the floor, squealing and moaning and crying in total gibberish. 

Marco creeps up to the kid, then withdraws his gun from his partially unzipped coveralls. He puts the gun right to the temple of the black man, and cocks it.

Everything stops. The nigger stops eating white hole and the white-college-stud-turned-whimpering-fag stopped screaming. The nigger looks up slowly, his face glistening with spit and ass juice. 

“Who ‘da fuck are you?” 

“Shut up,” Marco barks at the man. “Son, what’s your name?” 

They all turn their eyes to the white boy, who is still panting, completely naked, on the mattress. “Brent…Brent Binner.”

That’s right! Brent Binner.

Zeke notices that underneath the college boy, right where his crotch was on the mattress, is a GIANT wet stain. 
“Jesus,” he mutters to Marco. “The kid was so scared he went himself.”


“’Dat ain’t piss you white idiot,” the black man says. “’Dats cum. ‘Dis kid’s been fucking jizzing himself while I been eating him out. Fucking loves it. You heard him.”

“No!” Brent screams. “No that’s not true! I—welll—uh—I—“

“Brent,” Zeke says sternly, placing his hand on the boy’s muscled shoulder, “It doesn’t matter if it’s jizz or what. The question is—was he doing that to you against your will?”

“Well…uh…”

“Spit it out, kid. We don’t got a lot of time,” Marco barks.

“NO! It was AGAINST my will—I mean at first it wasn’t..something happened. Back on the bus. We were all riding and then all of the sudden—I went crazy. I can’t really remember, I just remember needing to have a mouth on my ass. ANY mouth—and…and…this was the first place I got to. I asked him for it at first…but then…” 

Zeke watched a single tear fall from Brent’s beautiful eye.

“He wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t get up—I couldn’t stop him… and I couldn’t stop cumming.” 

“It’s ok, son,” Marco says, now putting his hand on his other shoulder. “We’re here to save you. We’ll explain everything—but first we need your help. We saw two other boys in this house. Do you know if there are any more?”

“I—I don’t know. I don’t think so. I remember…I set out with Ashton and little Harry—I don’t remember why. But the three of us landed here. I…I’m sorry. I don’t know where the others are.”

“That’s OK,” Zeke said. “We’re gonna get Harry and Ashton out of here in no time.”

“Please,” Brent said. “We need to save Harry—he’s my little brother.”

                                                                                 *** 

In no time, they had worked out a plan. They had the ass-muncher run off, told him to run as far as he could, or else they’d shoot his two buddies. They watched him take off naked through the streets, running as fast as he could. And you know niggers can run fast. 

Then they decided they’d go rescue Ashton, who happened to be downstairs right now gagging and drooling and spitting up on some skinny black dick. Zeke and Marco silently decided to save Harry for last, first because it was two guys up there, so they’d need all the bulk they could get. The second reason was because they knew that if Brent saw what his kid brother was going through, the boy would panic. They needed time. 

So the three of them descended down to the first floor. They repeated the process of slowly sneaking in—this time they were fortunately in a window that faced the back of the recliner the man was in. They could still hear the slurps, the gags, the near-puke noises the child was making as he was forced to suck dick like no porn star would.
They came around, and this time Zeke held the gun to the man’s temple. He cocked the weapon.

The nigger with the long skinny dick and the boy attached to it slowly turned around. “Please…help….me…” he said in a quiet voice, raising his hands above his head.

“Help you?” Marco roared. “What do you mean HELP you??” 

“No…look…” Brent said. The high schooler was pointing to little Ashton.  The kid was still going at it. He was still slurping down nigger dick at an alarming rate, still gagging, still forcing disgusting ropes of mucus and dicksnot and whatever else that kid’s mouth was leaking .

“I’ll be damned,” Marco said. “The kid is doing it to himself.”

“Please…get him off of me…” the nigger panted. “I—I already gave him…so much. SO much cum. I can’t…I can’t make anymore. But he won’t—he won’t stop. He’s a monster.”

The two men and the teenager stare at each other in disbelief. Could it be true? Could little Ashton, who Brent had described as a precocious, outgoing kid, really be CHOOSING to make such a mess of his face, his beautiful hair, all for the sake of cum.

“No,” Zeke said. “It’s not his need. Cum isn’t his need. It’s this…THIS MESS.”

Zeke walked over and grabbed the boy’s hair in a squishy fistful. Then he pried the boy off. It was like pulling the kid out of a trance. He stared around at the room, locking his eyes on Brent.

“Hey B—“ the kid started to say, but he was cut short when he snorted in a big glob of whatever had been dripping down his nose seconds earlier. When he recovered, he said, “Hey Brent! What are YOU doing here? I was just hanging out with my new friend. His name is—hey?? Where’d he go?”

They looked back from the child, and saw that the sneaky, skinny African childfucker had taken off on his own. How odd. 

“Hey, buddy,” Brent said in a soft voice. He made his way over to the little guy, and reached his hand up to scoop some of the snot and spit and foam off his right eye.”

“No—don’t! I—I like it.” 

All of the men in the room froze. They stared at the redheaded slut-beast-child, who was just happy as a clam in the middle of the room, drenched almost head to toe in his own back-throat-slosh.

“Really, I kinda…I kinda need it. Like…I don’t like being dry anymore. Especially in my hair.” The kid had a killer smile that never seemed to be washed away.

“Goddamnit,” Marco muttered. “What has happened to kids these days?”

“I don’t know,” Zeke said. “Seems like each one is sicker than—“

“Look,” interrupted Brent, “I have to go save my brother. Take me to him, now. Or else I’ll go find him myself.”

Zeke and Marco shared a knowing stare. Zeke gave his pal a knowing nod and turned to Brent. He didn’t have to worry about little Ashton listening in – the kid was busy licking some cocksnot off his little paws. 

“Brent, there’s something you need to know,” Zeke began in a very cautious tone. “Your little brother’s in a very dangerous situation. I’m not going to beat around the bush—right now he’s sandwiched between two giant black guys, and they’re stuffing him from both ends. I’m sorry to put it so bluntly, but little Harry is no longer a virgin in any sense of the word.” 

Zeke could hardly believe the words as they came out of his mouth. Every day it seemed like the things he was saying (and believing) were less and less foreign. It was as if his brain was evolving as well.

“Where…is….he…” Brent spoke slowly.

“Now don’t go getting all excited—“ Marco began, reaching out for the kid’s broad shoulder. Brent shrugged him off.

“WHERE IS HE?”

“He’s…on the top floor. But—“ Zeke was too late. The boy was off and running up the stairs—this time the main stairs—toward the top floor. Zeke and Marco set after him, but damn the kid was fast. Zeke and Marco were both fit men, but they were no match for a high school football running back. The kid bounded up the stairs, and soon they heard him reach the top floor.

They stopped and listened. There was  the sound of a scuffle, shouting, and then--

THUD. THUD.

Silence.

A piercing cry breaks the air. A woman. No—not a woman.

“Brent!” Both Marco and Zeke cry out as they run up the stairs. And sure enough, as they turn into the room where little Harry is being kept. They skid into the room and come to a stop.

Zeke’s eyes turn first to Brent, who—surprise, surprise—is flat on his stomach, his beautiful bubble butt in the air, screaming like a bitch. Because buried in his muscular ass is the face of none other than Gold Teeth, who has abandoned his post inside little Harry’s throat in order to take down Brent. And it worked. That explained one of the THUDS: Gold teeth had taken the kid down HARD—and was now eating him out just as hard.

The source of the other THUD was on the other side of the room. Unfortunately, it looked to be little Harry’s head that made the thud. Because once Gold Teeth roughly pulled out of him, the kid just flopped to the floor, drooling and staring off in a hazy, zombified state. 

Unfortunately for Harry, Red Bandana didn’t see this as a reason to stop his assault on the kid’s tiny, white, purebred, rich little hole. No, he was still cramming his dark chocolate hot poker into the child’s guts. Like seriously, his cock was somewhere around this kid’s spleen at this point. 

He had the little tyke by his ankles, and instead of lowering himself down into the child’s no-longer-pristine hole, he found it easier to raise the kid up and down. He’d let the poor, withered thing slide down 10.5 inches 【27 cm】 of his cock, so just the rim of the head was visible, then pull him back up. Inevitably, Harry’s head was banged into the floorboards repeatedly.

Zeke truly wanted to believe that the head trauma was what was causing the dumb look on Harry’s face. But he knew better.

Not knowing what else to do, Marco and Zeke burst into the room. 

“WHAT DA FUCK??” said Red Bandana as he spied the two full grown men, with actual guns. 

Marco had his gun pressed against the temple of Gold Teeth, while Zeke was aiming at Red Bandana. The two black guys put their hands in the air.

Brent stood up, now free from his ass-munching spell, and ran over to his little brother, who was still impaled about 9 inches 【23 cm】 on that horse cock and slowly…sliding…down.

The high school jock grabbed his little slut brother under the armpits and yanked him.

“GET OFF OF HI—“ he started to shout, but stopped when he realized that…uh oh…the poor little kiddo was STUCK. 

“I SAID GET OFF—“ he shouted again, but the kid just wouldn’t come. He had slipped all the way to the end of the nigger dick, but apparently that fat black mushroom head was pretty persistent in keeping him barbed and attached. 

Every time the teenager pulled, the little kid made these silly little noises, like the air was being sucked out of him while he was being punched in the gut. Cutie pie. 

Finally, the jock couldn’t handle it anymore. He kicked his big Quarterback foot right into Red Bandana’s chest, while at the same time he grasped his little bro’s hairless pits and YANKED WITH ALL HIS MIGHT.
But it was useless. Though Brent’s beautiful biceps were flexing and veins were appearing in his neck (and big teenaged cock) he just couldn’t get the darn thing off. Erm…did I say thing? I meant grade schooler. 

For a long moment, everyone stared as Red Bandana hanged their in the air, the only thing keeping him from falling to floor being his giant throbbing mushroom head. And then.
POOOOOOOP BANG! Down he went, and the child came free with a squeal of delight or scream of horror. Kind of hard to decipher at that point.

Brian pulled his little brother into his arms and hugged him tightly. This gave Marco and Zeke quite the view—of his little asshole. What a mess! The gaping thing was a veritable waterfall of jizz. So thick and gooey that it ran down the kiddo’s legs and literally POOLED at Big Brother’s big feet. Truly disgusting behavior for a boy his age, don’t you agree? 

“I think I had enough, Bwent,” he said.

Anyway, it was that single moment of joy when the kid finally popped off that gave Gold Teeth and Red Bandana the opportunity to act. 
Click. Click.

Marco and Zeke spun around to see that both of the black men had pulled their own guns from somewhere. 
There was a long moment of silence as all four men in the room pointed their guns at each other. No one moved or said a thing as they stared each other down. Meanwhile, their cocks were all raging hard. 
Suddenly, their cocks began to bounce up and down. The two big nigger dicks, the two massive white cocks, all bouncing up and down in unison. Throbbing. To a beat. A beat that could suddenly be heard outside the window.

“What—what’s that song?” Zeke said. He recognized the tinny tune. It was so familiar…something that reminded him of…childhood…

“It’s the ice cream man! It’s the ice cream man!” shouted Harry. 

Indeed. The Ice Cream Man had arrived.


                          chapter 6  " The drive "

Down the street came the ice cream truck, moving at a somewhat fast pace, music blaring. If they had been closer to the truck, they would have heard the pitter patter of feet underneath that tinny tune, because behind the ice cream truck came a hoard of little boys all running as fast as their feet could carry them. There must have been 15 or 20 of them, all running with their hands out, all clearly in full zombie state. 

    Even from where Zeke and Marco were standing, they could tell that this was NOT a good thing. Why were the boys acting so crazy for ice cream? I mean, sure, they were kids, but they weren’t like kids used to be. It was one thing to see little boys chasing after the ice cream man before the change happened, but now the only thing that could make boys run like that was-

    Aha. There it was. As the truck drove by the rundown building where Zeke and Marco were staring out the window, they could see what was catching the boy’s attention. The double doors on the back of the truck were open, and in the rear stood a man in an all-white suit and little triangular hat. Come out of his white pants was, you guessed it. A HUGE cock. He was jerking it off with both hands, waving the vieny, red, throbbing meat at the drooling kids running behind the truck.

    But it wasn’t just any cock in his hands. It was a famous cock, easily recognized because of the tattoo that had made headlines seven years ago. Tattooed on this man’s dick was an ice cream cone, the pointy end buried in his black pubic bush, and the top of the ice cream cone coming so that it looked like his fat, purple cockhead was a scoop of delicious ice cream. 

    “THE ICE CREAM MAN!” yelled Zeke and Marco in unison. 

    “We have to get back to the truck!” Marco shouted, turning back into the room.

    “We have to save our sons!” Zeke shouted back, following him. 


    This was a moment when it was clear that the epidemic had done more than just turned all boys into cocksluts and all men into dominant, overly horny fuck gods. It had boned the men, made them closer with one another. Zeke and Marco were part of a tribe now, and in moments of panic like this, didn’t even have to communicate verbally. They just acted. 

    Marco turned around and grabbed Ashton into his big, bulky arms and pulled him tightly. Zeke dove for little Harry, who was still kind of in a stupor from getting double fucked. They took off running before the black guys could stop them, and Brent, the teenager who screamed like a woman when his pussy was munched on, followed the two Alphas out of the house and into the streets. 

They got outside just as the ice cream truck turned a corner, but they could still feel Ashton and Harry wiggling in their arms, knowing there was a man waving a cock around nearby. Fucking sluts. Brent was somehow able to resist, though his pace slowed until the truck was out of sight. Then they were running again, and both Marco and Zeke were relieved to find that the truck was still locked. And judging by the way the police van was rocking back and forth, and the sounds coming from inside, the boys were most definitely still there.

“Shit!” said Marco, looking up at the sky. “I didn’t’ realize how long we were in there! It’s been two hours or so. Our kids must be…”

“Starving…” Zeke said, setting down Harry on the pavement. 
Marco set down Ashton as well, and then wiped some of the frothy throat-slop the kid had left behind on his chest and wiped it on the little boy’s red, matted-down hair. The police officer took a look at his friend. 

“What are we gonna do?” Marco asked.

“We have to go after that truck,” Zeke said. 

“But our boys. They’ll go crazy if we don’t satisfy them—now.”

“Listen,” Zeke said, “you drive. You’re a cop – you know how to do the car chase thing. I’ll…I’ll take care of the kids in the back.”

“Are you sure?” Marco asked, his eyes wide. Was his best friend really gonna take a bullet for him and throw himself to those wolf pups?  “There are three of them!” 

Zeke only nodded in response, looking solemnly at the back of the truck. 

“Here,” Marco said, reaching into the front of the truck. He handed Zeke a pair of handcuffs. “You won’t want them both attacking you at once. Keep one of them uh…confined…while you help out the other.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Zeke said, taking the handcuffs. “Brent, do you wanna join me?”

Brent looked shocked, then wrinkled up his nose. “No way… I’m not into that. I just…I don’t know. Ever since things changed, the only sexual thing I want is to have my ass eaten.” He blushed as he said this. “I don’t even want to fuck girls anymore…not that girls seem to be around. And I definitely don’t wanna do whatever you’re gonna do with your sons in there. Sorry I can’t help.”

“I understand,” Zeke said, nodding. “I guessed as much. I think…something about the way this illness has affected us. Men only want to get off, and boys like you all only want one very specific thing. It must have to do with age—young men under a certain age have ‘needs.’”

“Listen, Zeke, you can’t do this. Those three boys will rip you to shreds, and you know it. They’re in full on slut mode—it’s too much to handle. Why don’t you take care of the little ones, and give me cliff. I can satisfy him while I drive.”

Zeke raised his eyebrows. “But Cliff’s my son.”

“I know,” Marco said. “And Bry is mine. It’s a fair trade off.”

“I—I guess. It’s kinda like we’re a family now, huh? Your kid is my kid and all that shit. At least when it comes to using them.”

Marco just shrugged. “You open the door and I’ll grab Cliff and drag him up front, OK?” 

Zeke nodded. They all waited a moment, and then Zeke reached forward and grabbed the door. As soon as he yanked it open, all the boys inside lunged at them, hungry for semen or cock or whatever the men had that they wanted. This was another moment when Zeke realized how lucky he was to have met Marco, for the man was truly a skilled policeman. He had obviously had experience dealing with crazed prisoners before, because he leaped into the back of the truck like a superhero. The muscled, beefy man shoved Mason and Bry back—a bit too roughly. I guess he forgot just how little his own son was, cause the little Zombie kid just went flying into the metal wall of the paddy wagon. 

The little guys were only stunned for a second, but that’s all Marco needed to grab Cliff and pull him into his big, thick arms. He leaped out of the car and Zeke slammed the door shut. 
“Hold still!” Marco barked to the thriving middle schooler in his arms. Zeke could barely recognize his middle son, Cliff. The little brunette boy—the only brunette in the family—was having an all out fit. He’d apparently been in the mood for some rough throat fucking coupled with verbal abuse—his need. He hadn’t gotten it, and now he was incoherent, freaking out, desperate to get what he craved.

Zeke walked over and before he knew what he was doing, had unzipped his jumpsuit to let his huge daddy cock flop out. He walked over to his struggling son and slapped him across the cheek with it as hard as he could—three time.

“CLIFF YOU FUCKING FAGGOT!” he barked, knowing it was what his boy wanted to hear. “STOP YOUR BITCHY WHINING AND GO SERVICE MR. PAZZO HERE IN THE FRONT SEAT RIGHT NOW.”

It worked, sorta. The boy stopped thrashing, though he was still wiggling a bit. At least it was enough that Marco could carry him to the front of the vehicle and throw him in. Brent took Harry and Ashton by the hands and led them to the front of the car as well.

Zeke pressed his ear against the closed doors leading into the back of the police vehicle He could clearly hear the two voices—so small and high-pitched, but so odd. 

“Cuuuummmm…..daddy’s cummmmm….” said one voice, and right off the bat he knew it was his little guy, Mason. 

The other voice was incomprehensible, just screaming and moaning in that little child voice. It made Zeke’s stomach flip. That was little Bry. Even smaller than Mason, Marco’s son was the one Zeke was afraid of. Zeke had fucked plenty of women, and had given many of them his dick up their ass. But he had never fucked a boy’s ass—never even imagined he would. Now he was about to fuck the unbelievably small hold of a grade schooler—his son’s best friend—while his own kid watched. But if he didn’t take action soon, things would get much, much worse. 

Zeke took a deep breath and opened the doors of the van. Immediately the two small children leaped at him, clawing at the jumpsuit he wore. The kiddos each grabbed onto one of his tree-trunk thighs and began to scratch at the cloth covering his now throbbing erection. Why was it that whenever he got closer to his son, he could literally feel the cum in his massive nuts churning? What was that about?

Zeke pried the boys off of him, and grabbed his own kid by the shoulders. He pulled Mason toward one side of the windowless holding cell that was once used to house prisoners, and now housed boy sluts. 

“I’m sorry son,” he said as he yanked one of Mason’s arms back and handcuffed the boy to a hook on one wall. “You’ll have to wait. You’ll be second, I promise. But I’m only cumming once, so you’ll get that load.” 

Mason obviously didn’t understand. The kid was too hungry for jizz, and couldn’t comprehend the words Daddy was using. Instead, tears formed in his eyes and he began to thrash around desperately trying to get free from the handcuffs. Zeke didn’t have time to worry if the boy would hurt himself, because little Bry was pulling at him, still trying to get at that cock. 

“I know, I know. You want me to deep dick you so you can lick your ass sauce of me. Calm down, boy,” he said. He realized he was talking to the kid as though the boy were a dog, but honestly, when the kids got like this, they were really more like animals than anything else.

Bry did calm down a bit, but only because he could tell what was coming. Zeke lifted the child up and set him down in position—face down on the hard, cold, metal floor, tiny ass poking up in the air. 

Zeke unzipped his jump suit and his cock came flying out, landing with a heavy, wet thud on Bry’s lower back. The kid gave out a gaps, sigh and a moan all at the same time. God he was hungry for some ass juice.
Zeke stroked himself a little bit, looking down at Bry’s exposed hole. It was so pink and small—no bigger than a dime. He looked at his own cock head, which was about the size of a small apple. How in god’s name was it going to fit without killing the kid? 

“FUCK ME!” Bry screamed in his tiny voice. Just the sound of it made precum ooze out of Zeke’s cock. 
He pressed his massive fuck tool up against the boy’s quivering hole. “I’m going to, but I don’t wanna hurt ya, buddy. I’m gonna go nice and slow so—“

At just that moment, Marco decided to throw the car into gear. The vehicle lurched forward, throwing Zeke off balance. 

THUNK. All at once, Zeke felt the entirety of his foot-long cock RAM into the child, who immediately let out a scream that would have put any police sirens to shame. 
    
“Oh Bry! I’m so sorry! It was the car, I swear! Please forgive me!” Zeke cried out. But don’t be fooled, dear readers. Because as Zeke is saying this, he’s doing that signature circular move with his hips. Deep digging. Digging for gold. Basically he was rearranging every single internal organ little Bry had in him. In fact, Zeke doesn’t even pull out when he realizes that he can actually feel the child’s heart racing against the top of his cock head. Damn that was deep.

He began to thrust deep in the child over and over, really getting in there like he knew Bry needed. He had every intention of pulling out, cumming, and letting the boys do the cleanup, but unfortunately the car gave another lurch. At the same moment, Mason cried out, “CUM DADDY!” And though he was actually saying that he wanted cum from his papa, dad kind of misinterpreted it as a command. It was hard to think straight when you were 12 inches 【30 cm】 into a grade schooler. 

“AH HERE YOU GO!” he shouted as he began to unload into the kid. He felt thirteen good shots before he realized what he was doing. He was wasting his cum, and Mason was going to be PISSED!

“Oh god!” he shouted as he ripped his cock out of the whimpering child, but it was too late. All of his sperm was now deep in the little boy. “Oh Mason, I’m sorry! I think I can get another load…here…I’ll just…”

Suddenly he felt tiny lips around his dick. Oh, that’s right. Disgusting little Bry liked to suck his ass juices off cocks—that was his need. Zeke stared down at the little guy as he stretched his lips around the cock head and sucked away happily. He stared up with his big green eyes at Zeke, and the man instantly saw the little boy come back to life. The zombie look left his eye as his need was satisfied.

“Can’t he just take it out of me?” the little boy said as he took a beak from sucking the head to lick the base of Zeke’s softening cock.

“I….I don’t know Bry. It’s pretty deep but…I guess we could try it.” He turned to his son as Bry continued to clean him. “Son, would you be OK eating it after it’s been in Bry?”

“CUM NOW DADDY!” was the only thing the brat could say, which was as good as a yes in Zeke’s eyes. 
Zeke sat down against the front wall of the police van, near Mason but just out of the boys reach. He pushed his cock up in the air to get Bry’s attention—not that it was ever lost. Bry went to town immediately, sucking the dirty cock as if his life depended on it.

The boy was so small that it was no problem for Zeke to reach forward and get at his ass. He stuck his thumb into the boy’s fucked out hole. The little shitter was so wet and destroyed—it really pulled at his heart strings as he shoved his thumb into the kindergartner.

“Damn, son. I came a lot in your ass,” Zeke said as he withdrew his thick digit from the boy’s asshole. You probably guessed that it was covered in his own dick slime. 

He just shoved that fat thumb into his whining son’s mouth, and that shut the boy up. He looked at his little boy sucking cum, and by the fifth fingerful, the light started to come back to the child’s eyes.

“That’s it,” Zeke said in a soothing voice as he rubbed his sperm all over his youngest son’s gums. Come back to daddy, Mason. No teeth. Come back.”

Eventually he was able to unhook his own son, and he sat there exhausted. He watched little Bry continue to gag and choke on dick, though his meat was clean as a whistle by this point. He looked down at his big feet to see his son smiling back at him, still sucking away on his little best friend’s recently fucked boy hole.
They continued like that for a while, until Mason started moaning. “Jesus, again?” he said, thinking his son needed more cum. But he was wrong.

“I’m thuck!” Mason said, looking up at his father with desperate eyes. 

Zeke leaned in for a closer look. My god, the kid was stuck! His little pink tongue was stuck in Bry’s hole. The hole that had been purple and nearly inside out just moment ago was once again the size of a dime, and it had apparently closed up around Mason’s tongue.

“These things close up so fast,” he said. “I’ll get you off. This might hurt.” He grabbed Mason’s hair and gave the kid a quick yank, much like taking off a band aid.

His tongue popped out. 

“I think that’s a sign that you’ve both had enough,” Zeke said, zipping up his jump suit. “Now let’s hang out until the car stops.”

He slumped back down on the ground, and the two little troopers snuggled up, one under each arm, nuzzling their faces into his armpits as they fell asleep.

The front of the vehicle was much less calm. Brent, Ashton and Marco were crammed into the cab of the vehicle, with little Harry resting on his big brother’s lap, looking out the window serenely. 

Marco was in hot pursuit of the ice cream truck, however, and was swerving around crashed cars and other wreckage leftover in the boyfucking post-apocalypse he now lived in. He was cursing like a sailor as he drove, but he had finally caught a glimpse of the ice cream truck.

Unfortunately, the people behind the truck were pretty intelligent. As soon as they saw the cop car, the man in the back with his cock out leaped out and grabbed three of the children following him under one arm. He had dumped them into the truck and grabbed three more before climbing back in and then taking off again.
Whoever was driving the ice cream truck was a pro—someone who had experience outrunning the cops, no doubt. And the truck could move surprisingly quickly. It was an intense police chase, but the real chaos was happing inside the car. 

It was all thanks to that horny problem child, Cliff. The middle boy. The one always making trouble and screwing up—well he was screwing up the whole operation right now.

Cliff was lying on his tummy across the laps of Harry/Brent and slimy little Ashton, so that his face was, of course, buried in the cop’s musky crotch. He was going to town on the police pole as though he was a starving African child who hadn’t eaten in weeks. Really, it had just been a few hours since he’d gobbled dick, but to a post-epidemic slut like him, that was a lifetime.

As he steered, Marco was slamming the young boy down on his 11-incher with his hard elbows. Cliff didn’t mind so much. In fact, the little guy gave a big smile when Marco accidentally elbowed him in the eye. Oh well. Cest ‘la vie for Cliff. 

“I mfmfmpahh mfmf,” Cliff said.

“What was that, boy?” Marco said, using one hand to pull the greedy cocksucker off his pole.
“I like pain!” Cliff said, then wrestled free from Marco’s grip and plunged face first down on his cock again, swallowing the thing into his gullet.

“Oh you fucking slut!” Marco cried, and he began to unload in the kid’s throat, feeding him thick and chunky police sperm. Cliff didn’t bat an eye—unless you count the one he was just bonked in. That one he was squinting shut, and a bruise was already forming. But he just diligently guzzled cum. No doubt he was probably thinking how jealous his little brother would be if he knew what he was getting. Little Mason was an even bigger cum whore than Cliff. 

“Wow, I can’t believe you can still drive!” Brent said as Marco orgasmed and maneuvered the car over a curb and down an alleyway. They were getting closer to the ice cream truck.

“Well I…I…what is that smell?” Marco said, as a very satisfied Cliff sat up, wiping the corners of his mouth.

“I don’t smell anything,” Brent said.

“Me neither,” said Ashton. Harry and Cliff nodded in agreement.

“No I smell something…something wonderful…it smells.. Oh god what is it?? JESUS!” 

Marco was beginning to drive erratically. What was that smell? It was driving him insane. It was making his mouth salivate. It was…it was…it was coming from Brent.

“Oh god, Brent. It’s you…I can smell…your…Jesus can it be possible? I can smell your need.”

“How…how did you know I was getting needy?” Brent asked.

But Marco was too distracted by the smell. Suddenly he took his hands off the wheel and lunged for the teenaged boy. He threw Harry to the floor of the vehicle as he grabbed the jock teen’s thick thighs and yanked him, pulling the boy’s ass up.

Then Marco, completely forgetting that he was driving a car full of people in hot pursuit down a narrow alley, dove face first into Brent’s muscular globes and started lapping at the jock’s amazingly delicious hole.
Unfortunately, he only got three laps of his thick tongue in before they crashed into the dumpster.

                                                                                    ***

On the other side of town, there was another group of men dealing with car troubles. It was the Beta guys of the group—Clark, Zeke’s next door neighbor, the trusty, tall, pale redhead; Dean, the quiet, smart father of Cliff’s best friend; and PacMan, the bizarre, kind of creepy, nerdy boy who somehow joined up with their group. 

They had a batch of kid’s with them too: Nate, Clark’s young, teenaged son who had a penchant for sucking his dear old dad’s nuts; Jeremy, Dean’s son and Cliff’s best friend, who adored burying his pink tongue in adult asshole; and Luke, a random boy they had picked up who had a major thing for adult armpits.

“Hey, let’s call them the little lickers!” PacMan said cheerfully as he navigated the car through the Hispanic 

part of town. It was oddly quiet, but PacMan didn’t seem perturped.

“We’re not calling them that,” Dean said from the backseat. “They’re our kids.”

Clark nodded in agreement. He was in the passenger seat. 

“But they all love to lick! Nate loves nuts, Luke loves pits, and Jeremy loves him some sweet, hairy assh—“

“We’re NOT calling them that. Now just shut up and drive,” Clark barked at the teenager. It was bad enough that he was stuck with PacMan and Dean, some guys he didn’t know. Clark felt bad that he had been left out of the group—he thought he was part of the inner gang, with Marco and Zeke. But they had dumped him with the teenaged goon and the newcomer without a second thought. 

The car fell silent for a while, until suddenly they were all shaken by a big BUMP, and then the tell tale sign of a tire popping. They veered off the road and into a fire hydrant, where they sat dazed for a moment. 

“What the hell? These are new tires! There’s no way—oh shit.”

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a canister came sailing through the air, trailing bright red smoke. It must have been tossed out of a window or from around a corner or something, but it landed just underneath the front of the car. Within minutes, the entire vehicle was flooded with red smoke, and all of the men and boys inside became very, very sleepy.