The continuation of a story about a father, a son, and a teddy bear called Fuzzy.
I love my son. Like any parent, I want only the best for my child and I can only pray that a dark and forbidding future will have just enough light to spare his innocent soul. Despite my uncouth use of his tender young body, his affection for me didn't faulter. The days passed as any other before it. A familiar routine which I have been comfortable with now for the last year of his life. Awake by seven. Breakfast and dress, take him to school, work, pick him up from the day care and return home t make dinner and eventually put him to bed.
I can't honestly say I wasn't disappointed. For nearly two weeks, Johnny managed to keep his bed dry and his body from my hard stare and calloused touch. Last night proved different. I'd been sitting in the den, perusing my substantial library of porn clips from downloadable sites, enjoying the slow stroking of a pulsing erection. My wife hadn't returned from Japan. She'd called earlier that night and while I miss her, I'm glad as well she's gone. With her home I rarely have the opportunity to enjoy my collection of illicit and unfortunately illegal porn. A sound upstairs drew my attention away from the sight of a twelve year old boy who had convinced his five year old brother to fuck him up the ass. The distraction cost me a promising orgasm. Sexually frustrated and more then a little annoyed, I shut down the computer, my gaze darting to the glowing red digital display of the small clock on my desk. 2:47. My brow pinched. What the hell was Johnny doing up at.... Then it hit me and I felt my swollen cock jerk in anticipation. Johnny had wet the bed. A cool smile of predatorial eagerness slid across my lips as I pushed my chair from my desk and rose, tucking my swollen cock back into the confines of my blue terry cloth robe.
Wistful fantasies about my sons soft, boyish body with it's tender nipples and pert ass danced across my mind without the slightest regard to the perversion or legality of it all. Johnny was my son. I loved him. But he was being a very bad boy and punishment was a necessity. Spare the rod and spoil the child. I didn't attempt to muffle the heavy tread of my steps up the stair case. The carpeted steps groaned. The house needed repairs. Upon reaching the landing, I paused, listening to the sounds of my home and straining to hear some small sound that might indicate what Johnny was up to. There was nothing. I held my breath in an attempt at complete silence and then, quietly, I heard the rustle of movement from behind my son's slightly ajar bedroom door.
Curiosity and the thrill of lust moved me forward, carrying me to his bedroom door on which my palm pressed, pushing it inwards. Johnny was there, standing beside his bed and looking a me with a wide eyed panic. His hands were behind his back as though hiding something from me. I looked from him to the bed and even in the dim moonlight that filtered through the frosted panes of his window, I could see the darker stain of urine on what had been clean sheets when I put my son to bed. My cock throbbed. Johnny had been a very naughty boy indeed. I levelled a cool stare on my son as I stepped forward.
"Johnny, do you remember what happens when you wet the bed?"
A mewl of dread sounded from my sons throat as he looked up to me, his lower lip quivering in fear and dread. I felt no remorse. Odd, considering my son is the virtual center of my universe, but what can I say to right the wrongs I've done? He didn't answer me. Fear froze his vocal cords. I slowly lowered to a crouch in front of my sons, reaching behind him though my eyes held his features. Those large blue eyes of his, so like his mothers, began to pool with tears, lower lip trembleing as my fingers touched upon his teddy bear.
"Have you been playing with Fuzzy again, Johnny?"
A pathetic nod bobbed his head in a positive response and I fought the manic, perverse smile that threatened to curl my lips. Without a word, I lifted him from his feet and carried him to the bathroom. I left him there after drawing a warm bath. By now, he knew the drill. As he bathed, I entered his room, stripping the bed once more of his sheets and stuffing them down the laundry shoot beside the bathroom door. I paused. I could hear him washing his soft body. I could hear a quiet crying. Precum drooled from the bulbous head of my cock like a beast in anticipation of it's next meal. I retreated to my bedroom, removing my robe before I slid onto the bed my wife and I shared. The irony struck me as amusing. My son was created on this bed by a night of fantastic, down and dirty fucking with my wife....and he would receive the same treatment from me in time. I wouldn't stop. I knew that already. This lust, this ache for a childs body, for my sons body, was an addiction which I couldn't control. Worse then heroine.
Twenty minutes after I had lain in bed and drawn the thin white cotton sheet over my nude body, Johnny entered with obvious reluctance. He fidgeted as he stood there with the towel wrapped around his body. He must have left Fuzzy in the bathroom. I saw no sign of the piss soaked teddy bear. He didn't look at me as he closed my bedroom door but past me. To the window, the walls, the bed itself. His reluctance and fear only drove my lust. It wouldn't be the same if Johnny were willing to crawl into my bed and satisfy his daddy's needs. Beneath the sheets, my hand wandered down my abdomen, fingers coursing through thick, course pubic hair until I felt the heat of my erection. I shuddered in anticipation
"Come here, sport."
"Daddy please..." His voice was meek, a quiet, child-like pleasding for mercy from a parents scorn. There was no mercy in me when my cock demanded satisfaction and demanded as well that it be taken from the innocent boy.
"Now, Johnny." My tone was a sharp bark which silenced any further protests. he approached the bed in small steps, shedding his towel when he stood at it's side and from there crawled under the sheets. So beautiful. In the pale light of the full moon, my son could not have looked more appealing in his six year old body. All soft, rounded angles. Small tender nipples which demanded attention as they stood slightly puffy from his chest as though he were a girl ready to blossom into puberty. He clutched the sheet to his chest and I smiled, left hand reaching blindly into my nightstand drawer for a bottle of lube I kept for the pleasure of my wife's ass. "You've been a bad boy, Johnny. I told you not to wet the bed."
A sound of stark terror fell from my sons tense body and I knew I was beyond all reason. I flipped the cap of the bottle of warming lube open though I doubted Johnny would have an appreciation for it. I poured the water based lubricant over the head of my shaft, sending a shiver of pleasure through my body as I felt the tingleing heat of it warming my cock. After flipping the bottle's cap shut and dropping it aside, the wet sound of my hand stroking slickened cock slipped from beneath the sheets and no doubt landed on Johnny's terrified ear. I shoved the sheets back. I needed satisfaction. The deep seeded ache in my groin needed to be soothed and the tension released. I rolled, pinning Johnny's body beneath me with a stern look to my son's tear filled eyes. Immediately, his hands lifted, pushing with their miniscule strength against my firm chest.
"Daddy no! No! Please!"
But I didn't listen. His cries only added fuel to the fire and I urged them. My hands roughly played his tender thighs, forcing them up to rest against my ribs as my cock head stabbed at the soft, rounded cheeks of his ass. Tears began to fall from those blue eyes and bravely he fought. His body twisted, writheing against the sheets, tangleing the soft gotten as he clawed toward the edge of the bed. I grabbed him, shoved him forcefully back to the mattress even as one hand lifted and smacked him firmly across the cheek. Sobs of shock and pain ensued.
"Be a good boy for daddy, Johnny. Be a good boy..."
I was too fargone to stop. Too enamoured with that beautiful ass and quivering with anticipation. Six years old and about to be raped by a sadistic father. My son's life would be changed forever but the consequences weren't on the forefront of my mind in that moment. My large hands fell to cup the cheeks of his ass, roughly parting them until the slender head of my thin, seven inch cock found it's puckered target. With a uncontainable cry of joy, I pressed forward. Johnny's body resisted me but I didn't relent. Beastial instinct overtook my mind and body. There was no thought anymore. Just sensation. My hips began a rapid humping like a dog to a btch in heat trying desperatly to find the right entrance to lock their bodies together. Johnny's cries turned into a shrill scream as I penetrated that impossibly tight ring. It stole my breath. Never before had I ever felt anything so incredibly tight. So warm. Johnny's ass spasmed with the pain, torn because no matter how pathetically slender I actually am, I am still a grown man and my son a child. The scream was met with a grunt from my lips. His small hands pummled my chest and stomach though I paid no attention. Instead, my hands released the cheeks of his ass to grip the carved headboard, giving me leverage as I began pistoning my cock in and out of that impossibly tight ring of convulsing muscle.
I was only capable of feeding two inches into my sons body but that was all I needed. All I wanted for the moment. There was nothing tender in the way I used his fragile body. There was no love in the act and there was no discretion. His body shuddered with pain, his screams ringing in my ears and bouncing off the walls of the bedroom even as my hips quickened pace, rutting harder into his body though moving no deeper. His ass suckled my cock as though aching to have me deeper and my perverse mind accepted the challenge. Another, harder shove bounced my sons soft body against the bed. Another inch entered. His screams escalated. Small hand stopped pummleing and began clawing, scratching at my chest and leaveing in their wake red welts. That sensation combined with the previous tension in my body made the experiance short lived.
My body jerked, tensing as those inexplicably pleasureable thrusts lost their rythem with my impending orgasm. Hips jerked, twitched, and finally, with a gasped shudder, I blew my load. Thick, hot ropes of seed filled the body it had created, overstuffing my sons small asshole and queerly soothing the aches and pains I had torn into the tender tissue. My body stilled as I soared to dizzying heights, trembleing, and after an orgasm that was surely the best I've ever experianced, I began to fall into the blissful calm of the afterglow.
Panting, struggleing to regain my breath, I eased myself from his abused body and dropped heavily to the mattress. His cries became quieter, gentle sobs as he rolled onto his side and curled into a fetal position. I smiled. My Johnny boy. My beautiful son. I rolled over with some degree of effort and pulled him into my embrace, craddleing him against my chest securely before I drifted into a blissfully deep and dreamless sleep.