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Stanley squealed, gagging and crying as his large, auburn-furred father straddled him from behind in a rear mounted sleeper hold. Despite Stanley's struggles, his best efforts to shake his father off his upraised ass, the swollen nuts and packed sheath of the older man seemed stuck like glue.

"Heh, ya know son..." Grunter panted lightly into his son's ear. It seemed the whole physical encounter was hardly straining the large man, old as he was. "When I was your age, I could out-wrestle guys three TIMES my size!"

Despite not being able to see his father's face, Stanley could tell the man was sneering.

"But you..." Grunter continued. "You can't even out-maneuver one measly, over-worked and exhausted, forty-five year old man." Grunter huffed before thrusting his hips down flat with sudden, tremendous force, bringing his son's hips along with them.

Stanley let out a half pained, half shocked gasp as he felt his own nuts suddenly press and squish into the dusty, wooden floor of the shed. "Y-You can't DO THIS!!!" Stanley started to scream, only for his face to suddenly get smashed into the wooden floor as his father placed his hand on the back of the boy's head, taking a more aggressive and leveraged mounting stance.

"WRONG! I CAN DO WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT WITH YOU! I'M STRONGER AND BIGGER THAN YOU, AND A HELL OF A LOT MORE OF A MAN THAT YOU'LL EVER BE!" These were the last words Stanley heard before he lost his virginity.

The following moan-and-snort filled hours dragged on into days, and eventually weeks. Every day Stanley was shackled and left locked up in the breeding shed until it was time for "work." His classmates and teacher wondered why he'd suddenly dropped out of school so close to the end of his senior year, but no one cared enough to ask any questions. Eventually, the musky ass of his father, as well as the ass of any other man his father could usher in as a customer, became all Stanley knew.

It was three months later and the school year had just ended when Grunter entered his son's "office", sniffing around the musk, sweat and feint rotted wood smell with pride. He had turned his son into a productive member of society in his own mind, well, at least more productive than he expected the faggot would have ever gotten on his own. Yes, Grunter's balls filled not only with primal-lust-induced jizz but also pride in his work, as he looked down at the broken, shackled husk of what was once a ferocious and snappy boy.

"Wake up son. Rise and shine." Grunter smiled down at his son, the first smile of genuine fatherly pride in possibly his son's whole life, as he retrieved the shackle key from the top of a nearby shelf. "You've been good, nay, excellent, these passed few weeks. So as a reward..." He flashed the shiny key in front of his son's glossy eyes, which remained unresponsive. "I'm going to grant you your freedom. Hehe, HAHAHA, Freedom! Could you imagine such a thing for a cocksucker such as yourself?" Grunter burst out into booming, thunderous laughter at his own words. "No, a broken cocksucker like you will never know freedom, only dick, ass, and whatever else your permanent master decides for you once I find a buyer. However, this is the next best thing." Grunter squatted down and unshackled his son's wrists, then ankles, watching as the boy fell almost lifelessly onto all fours, face down and shaking slightly. "You'll be permitted to run around the farm and do as you please, just like all the other livestock, so long as you stay within range." Now it was time for Grunter to flash the ankle tracker he'd been concealing, before snapping it quickly and effortlessly onto the nonresistant eighteen year old.

Grunter then stood back and waited, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow curiously in wonder of what his son's first "free" movements would be. Would he run? Attack? Grunter chuckled inwardly at the thought. However, the truth of the matter came as a much more pleasant surprise. Grunter watched as his son's wrists flopped down to his sides, and he continued to kneel, motionless in the shed. "Atta boy." Came the soft growl of the beefy old bull. "Looks like you finally understand how things work around here. C'mon. Let's get you into the shower. You can suck my cock in there."

It wasn't until later that night, when Grunter was sleeping, that there was a creak at his bedroom door. Stanley stood, fully clothed for the first time in months, looking over the slumbering form of his father. He clenched his fists. He could do it. He could do it right now and be free of his father once and for all. Still, despite the upper-hand he would have by surprising his father with an attack, he couldn't deny the sheer mass his father had over him. Looking at the big, snoring, splayed out bull sleeping in his bed was like looking at a bearskin rug draped over a pillow. Still, Stanley knew it was either now or...

"Ungh, uhh, heya sport." The sound of Grunters voice echoed throughout the dark room as he'd apparently snored himself awake. The big bull looked over to the once brawny figure of his son, now a somewhat lithe silhouette in his doorway. "Ah, I see you finally found the energy to put on some clothes! Excellent. I don't want you COMPLETELY broken until the day of the sale. That's just no fun. You can keep your clothes on throughout the day if you want. Maybe even start beefin' that body of yours back up some." Grunter mused. Say, what're you doin in here while I'm sleepin'?" Grunter wondered, albeit only briefly, before shrugging the curiosity off with the undying confidence only a man of his godly stature could maintain. "Just couldn't get enough of Daddy, eh?" Grunter licked his lips lewdly, the old man's fat cock already beginning to stiffen. "Alright. Get in here and eat my ass you hungry little bastard."

It was in that moment that Stanley knew his father was right. He had become malnourished, almost scrawny, in the last three months. He knew if he were to take on his father, it was time to beef back up.

The sun shown through the basement window as the sound of dumbbells clanking echoed throughout the basement work-out room. Grunter had already spent his morning doing his own routine, but had been delightfully surprised to see his son not only join him, but stay behind to continue training. "Cute." The big bull had thought to himself as he saw his son on the bench press. The boy's weights were roughly one-fourth of Grunter's own. The old bull had no idea just how quickly that would change.

It was only the next day when Grunter entered the homemade gym to find his son training before him as well. The old bulls training session came and went, but exactly how much time his son spent in the gym before and after him still remained a mystery. The old bull chalked it up to an energy spurt, nothing more. However, as the week went on, Grunter was suprised to see his son not only continuing to train longer, but train harder. It was after the first two weeks that Grunter's curiosity was piqued enough to finally ask.

"Say, uhhh, sport, what's with all the, err, extra trainin'?" The old bull mused, doing his best to sound casual despite his itching curiosity.

Stanley remained quiet, eyes on the ceiling as he raised the bench press repeatedly at an almost alarming speed, ignoring his father's question. It seemed even after being broken down, some habits never die.

"BOY!" Grunter suddenly shouted, causing Stanley to place the bench down on the rack and sit up, meeting his father's gaze for the first time in months. Grunter could see an intensity burning within the eyes of his son as the boy spoke, calmly and softly. "I'm just working out my frustrations, Daddy. Nothing for you to worry about."

With that, Grunter smirked, satisfied with the answer. However he wondered if it was reality or just his imagination, as he saw his son sneer just before he turned and left the gym for the night.

Time continued to pass, with days turning into weeks and weeks into months. Soon it was nine months later, and Stanley had spent every moment between sleep and "work" inside the gym, training for this very night.

"Sport. It's time. Meet me in your office out back. I booked today just for us. My treat." Grunter grinned to himself in the mirror as he finished shaving. The old bull was naked, and swollen with excitement over tonight's plans.

Stanley had just emerged from his sleeping chambers to stand outside the bathroom. What was more surprising than his tight, black spandex fighting shorts was his strong and rebellious response. "No." Came the quiet, calm voice as Stanley crossed his arms over his chest, flexing his meaty biceps.. Stanley further exaggerated his defiance by spitting onto his father's thigh, the large saliva wad slowly trickling down before eventually getting absorbed into that dense, red fur. "I'm tired of being your slave. No one should be treated like this." Stanley exhaled through his nose, the boy clearly fuming with over a year's worth of pent up rage.

Grunter stopped shaving. The sudden ceasing of movement monumentous due to the sudden, tense atmosphere. Grunter glanced at his son in the mirror, before raising an eyebrow.

"I've been training hard, harder than you could ever imagine. I knew I could never get as big as you; no one could. But I knew I didn't have to get as big as you to kick your ass." For the first time in over a year, Stanley smirked. "Because you're slower, less agile, and more importantly, easier to bruise than I am." Stanley laid his aggression on thick, seething as his words dripped like venom from his lips. "Because beneath all that beef, you're just a washed up, miserable husk of an old man."

Stanley thought he saw a smirk cross his father's face, but it was gone as soon as he'd blinked. "So." Grunter started, his voice calm. "I take you into my business, give you love, and give your life true meaning for over a year, and this is how you repay me?" The big auburn furred bull's words came out less angry than Stanley had anticipated. Instead, the old bull almost sounded hurt. "Very well then."

Grunter took one slow step out of the bathroom. Stanley stood his ground, even as his father stepped once more. Soon both men were standing toe to toe, with Stanley craning his neck to look his father in his old, almost cloudy grey eyes. Grunter looked back, noting the ferociousness and intensity in the rich blue of his son's irises, and truth be told, he'd never been prouder in his life.

"Take the first shot son. Show me what you got." Grunter smirked as his son's eyes went wide in surprise. Grunter continued. "But you'd better make it count, sport. If you don't knock me out on the first blow," Grunter's voice got low and serious, the smirk dropping from his face. "it's all over for you."

It was then that Stanley felt trapped. There he was, standing in the seeminly increasingly narrow hallway of his country home, with his father nearly completely blocking off what could be his only path to an exit. Stanley froze, heart beating loudly, and then it happened.

Stanley raised his mighty, balled up fist straight up into his father's jaw with enough force to crash through a wall! However, the was only a single, unexpected problem.

Not only had his father not crashed through a wall, or even onto the ground, but, in fact, the grizzled old bull hadn't so much as flinched from his son's attack.

Grunter slowly tilted his head to the side, the motion making a light cracking sound, as he kept his eyes locked with his son's. The next thing Stanley knew, a sudden, loud, high-pitched "OOOHAFF!" sound was escaping his lips. The boy's body was sent flying across the hall before bursting through his father's closed bedroom door, knocking the wood off it's hinges.

"You're going to pay for that door boy, among other things." Grunter's voice was calm as he lowered his outstretched foot onto the ground with silent yet firm grace.

"Ughh, uhh, uh, wha-, what the h-hell?" Stanley coughed as he clutched his sore, surely bruised abdomen and struggled to sit up inside the debris. The boy was so focused on picking out wooden splinters that he hadn't noticed the heavy footsteps approaching him. "UNGH, OOOHAH!!!" Stanley's screaming continued, the cry higher pitched, and more fearful than his last as he was picked up by the hair.

Grunter brought his son's squealing face up to his own and huffed out a torrent of hot air through his flared nostrils. "I WILL BREAK YOU ONCE AND FOR ALL, BOY!" Suddenly there was a sharp pain in Stanley's abdomen as it seemed to almost swallow the older man's large, balled up fist. "OOGHFFFUUUCKKK!" Stanley groaned out at thick spit flew from his mouth, landing on his father's naked, thick-cut, auburn furred abs, which were now at the boy's eye level.

Grunter released his fist, only to jam it back into the same place once more. "AAAHHAHAA! OH GOD!!!" Stanley choked out, tears already leaking from the boy's eyes. Grunter released, and replaced his fist a third time, then a fourth, each impact burying his knuckles deeper into his son's increasingly tender flesh. "OOOOOGHOHHH, OHHH, ohhh." Finally, after the fifth punch, his son's body ceased it's movement. Then, as Grunter released his boy's hair, Stanley's face dropped almost lifelessly towards the floor. Now, the boy's body lay motionless, bent harshly over his father's mighty, massive fist. "You were a fool to think that you could compete with a man whose spent his life working hard in the field, hard in the gym, and hard in the ring."

Now it was Grunter's turn to return the spitting gesture, as he retracted his fist. The motion allowed his son's body to fall flat to the ground with a soft thud, before casually used his foot to roll the boy onto his back. Grunter snorted loudly, and finally hacked a large ball of phlegm down onto his son's face, right onto his cheek.

The disgustingly heavy impact caused Stanley's eyes to flutter open, just in time to see his father's massive foot come crashing down onto his chest, resulting in a pain-filled wheeze from the boy. "You DARED to spit on my leg, boy, when the sad reality is," Grunter twisted his leg to flex his calf, thigh and glute, relishing in his own muscle and stature as he pinned his son down. "My leg, nay, my right ASS CHEEK," Grunter accentuated the word by flexing and rhythmically bouncing his right glute above his son. "has more MUSCLE than you do in your entire pathetic body." Grunter hissed before twisting his leg back normally, and raising both of his arms to flex in victory. "Should'a named you 'Chancey', considering how much you like to press your LUCK." Grunter hissed out the last word as he dug the balls of his feet further into his son's sternum, causing the loudest moan yet to escape from the terrified, pain-filled boy.

"But alas, this is the last time you'll be allowed to gamble, allowed FREEDOM." Grunter huffed as he finally released his foot from the boy's chest, only to turn, facing away from his son, with a foot on either side of the lad's body. "From now on, your workload will be increased TENFOLD. You'll be worked day and night, with half the cost as to lure in new clients." Grunter snorted, flexing his mighty, massive, red furred bubble butt, before slowly beginning to squat. "You will know suffering boy, you'll know how to please a man, but most importantly," Grunter moaned as his anal ring finally met his son's lips, ignoring the immediate, muffled screaming from the boy.

"you'll know you belong here."

END OF CHAPTER