Sins of the Father
Taking a short break from the Rebirth series, because at the time of writing it's midnight and I can't sleep because I'm still hung over from the night before. Plus what's there of the third segment is on a disconnected computer, as I just moved. This story is called "Sins of the Father", and contains graphic sexual scenes with incest and potentially grotesque cumplay, but, neither are NC. If you find the idea of someone completely covered in cum a turn-off, then, you should probably stop reading ^_~
It started, Roark supposed, when his son was twelve. Narat had fallen off of his bike and gotten hurt, landing on some rocks. His neck was jaggedly cut and required stitches. While in the hospital they talked for hours and Roark really got to know the boy he'd raised, and discovered he really liked him as a person. Narat was shy, but very bright. That night while making love to his wife, he saw flashes of him instead of her. Scared that he might be a pedophile, he blamed it on his disconnection with his wife: he knew she was cheating on him for the past three years, and she didn't know he knew. He figured he was subconsciously placing Narat's face on hers because they were similar in all of the ways Roark thought was good.
He thought that it would stop after he divorced her three years later, when everything bad in their relationship came to the front. It only intensified. After the separation the sixteen year old alternated between his parents for weeks at a time. The young lion blamed everything on his mother, and only grew closer to Roark as the years went on. The two would stay up all night talking. Roark would spend hours helping Narat through every personal problem he was going through, every odd thought, everything.
Roark admitted to himself and to his diary on the first of May that he was in love with Narat. It was caused by their talk on April 31st, about the upcoming formal dance - the prom. Narat asked his father if he thought his girlfriend would freak out if he tried to go all of the way. Roark laughed, smiled, said it was as good a night as any to try, then once alone teared up in anger or frustration or worry, he didn't know until he named it the next morning: jealousy. He was the closest to Narat, the one he trusted most and was trusted by the most in return. He was the one who dreamt of Narat in his mother's place when every night he swore to himself that he wouldn't.
Every night his dreams got more vivid, more detailed. Every night in his sleep he'd admit his true feelings to Narat on one of those nights they talked instead of slept, and every time in his dreams Narat would admit the same back. The father and son would both embrace, they'd kiss, they'd make love sweetly in bed some nights, other times roughly in front of Narat's mother or out in public. When Roark was especially depressed over his unresolved feelings he would have nightmares of acting out his lusts without Narat's consent, which always made him awake wanting to throw up in self-loathing. The only thing above his love and lust for his son was the desire to keep him safe, to keep him unharmed.
May 5th was the prom, and to cope with the thought of Narat finally sealing his heterosexuality he was drunk by noon and promised himself he'd stay delightfully inebriated for the five months it would take for Narat to go off to college on the other coast.
May 6th, he awoke with a terrible, terrible hangover. Without looking around his darkly lit room he staggered to the bathroom, took a hot shower and four times as many painkillers as he should've, then, went back to his bedroom. He didn't remember anything of the past day, really, except starting to drink while watching infomercials around noontime. Anything after was a blur.
When Roark stepped into his room and got a clear view of his bed a dread overcame him, making him want to vomit just as after one of those dark, terrible dreams. The bed wasn't empty like it always was, no, that time he saw another lion laying there: Narat.
The boy wasn't completely naked, with no covers it was easy to see him. His pants and boxers still hung onto him down near his legs. He was laying on his stomach in a semi-fetal position. For a few seconds he tried to deny to himself that he'd molested or raped his son while in his drunken stupor, but, when he stepped closer he found the evidence he didn't want to see. On his son's ass, the perfect behind he'd often gazed at whenever he possibly could, was a rather messy tailhole. There was semen running out of it, matting the fur and wetting the sheets. There was no question of what he'd done, and it filled him with a horrible, arousing disgust that forced him to stare even though he swore every second he'd turn away.
Roark had violated the only person in the world he loved, or even cared about, really. He'd lost whatever happiness he had, and he'd taken it away from Narat at the same time. His son would never forgive him, he'd hate him, loathe him, wish him dead. Roark couldn't handle that thought.
When Narat woke up he found a note on the covers that'd been pulled over him, covering him up from the cold air. It read, 'I'm sorry. Goodbye.'
Roark had moved his business from the east coast where Narat and his mother lived to the west coast. With all of his money, it was easy enough to relocated and re-establish his business amalgamation away from Narat. He'd packed some of his things and flown the very day he'd woken up to finding his mated son in his bed. He gave no explanation, and returned no calls or letters from his son or ex-wife.
Four years after the incident, and he was at least three times as rich as when he'd left. Again in May Roark was considering the purchase of 'Rory's', a gay club centered around the playful, wet side of sex. Many times a night sprinklers would go off, showering the dancers.
Roark was going to turn it down. He wasn't one to risk money on such bad investments like clubs, but, Rory himself told him that he could convince Roark to stay if he visited late Friday night, to see the special act.
Roark attended at the time he was given. At four in the morning the place had thinned out to a few people, who were all standing around a center stage area. Roark stood in the back and simply watched, waiting for the stripper. He doubted any act that was legal could convince him that Rory's had something no other place didn't.
The first person on the stage was Rory, a very tall, broad-shouldered Rat who everyone applauded. Rory smiled and took the mic, laughing and smiling along with everyone in the room. "Welcome, everyone, to the Friday Night Special!" he yelled, with everyone cheering him. "As always, we have three acts to choose from, and you, the audience, get to vote. Normally we tend to list the options, but, I doubt you guys are going to stray from..." he said, giving a little pause before everyone in the audience but Roark and a few newcomers yelled "Cumslut!" at the top of their lungs. "Cum-slut! Cum-slut! Cum-slut!" they all chanted.
Roark laughed a little to himself and sat down at the bar. Cum-Slut? It was an unoriginal name, to say the least, and he doubted the act would be any good. It was legal to show cum, sure, but to eat it or get fucked? No, not in that state, not during a live performance.
"Enough! The votes are in. For the sixth consecutive week, Cumslut it is!" Rory yelled. The audience cheered for what seemed like a lifetime before Rory made a step back to leave the stage. "Before Cumslut begins, I'd like to again thank all of you beautiful studs who donated to this act in the backroom porn booths. That thanks goes especially to you stallions in here, I doubt this show would be physically possible without your continued delicious support!" he yelled, causing everyone to laugh but Roark. What was so funny about it?
Rory disappeared behind the curtain, and, out came a young male dressed in thin, white clothes and covered by a black mask that covered most of his muzzle and his eyes. He was obviously a lion, and male, but that was all that could be told of him.
The music started. Most of the music that Roark had heard played at Rory's was loud, fast, light beats. The one this 'cumslut' would dance to started off slow, industrial and heavy on the bass. Roark found himself entranced by just the man's walk. He gently jutted his hips to beats as they came, until he stopped in the center of the stage which the crowd almost completely surrounded. As the music picked up he started dancing. He was good, slow, and sexual, but Roark didn't know what was so special about it - for about thirty seconds.
Roark stood up off his seat when the red lights came on the masked male. Something poured from the ceiling, a stream of water? It was hard to tell. The forty-year-old lion stepped closer to get a better look at what was going on. Everyone in the audience was moaning or laughing or talking, but, Roark phased them out to only hear the music, seeing how the lion danced with the liquid streaming into his headfur and light mane. The masked male arched his head up to face the stream coming from the ceiling, and at that moment Roark could see what it was. It wasn't water streaming down, no, it was too thick for that - the male felt horror along with a quick, quick stiffening in his jeans when he realized that it was cum.
The masked dancer turned his back to the main audience, to Roark, as the stream got thicker. Semen had soaked his hair, soaked his face, and then he danced slowly and twisted his body to let the cum soak into the white clothes, dampening them so everyone could see it pouring down his body. Roark's horror intensified when he got another look at the male's neck.
The scar.
Roark stared at the neck, the scar, the one so unique it couldn't be a duplicate. With every passing second he swore to himself he'd look away, but, he couldn't. His mind was filled with the horrible, arousing disgust. It was the scar from falling on his bike when he was twelve. Roark stood still and just watched, wishing he had the strength to turn away. He found himself looking, and looking harder, at his son dancing perfectly with the seed of what must be dozens upon dozens of men of all species oozing down over him, soaking his clothes in their sin.
As the minutes went on the crowd had gotten quiet. They were all watching Narat like he was the only thing in the universe, and, to them and to Roark, he was. Narat was bending over as he danced, teasing everyone with the behind his father so loved as the stream of cum soaked the white fabric, letting people see through to his balls hanging beneath. For those long, long minutes, the slow music, the dim red lights, the son and the sin streaming over him all melded into a single entity, a single thing or feeling that Roark was afraid of, but, again, couldn't turn his back on.
After Narat's T-Shirt was completely soiled he peeled it off very, very slowly, letting everyone see the cum dripping from the shirt onto him and onto the floor. He took it off and threw it to the audience, leaving only one more drenched T-shirt on. Near the midway point in the act he looked out over the audience and saw Roark standing in the back. For the first time since he'd started the young man froze for a fraction of a second in bewilderment, then, kept on going.
Roark moved his way to the front as best he could. He wanted to talk with Narat, explain what happened, seek forgiveness, and save him from... this. When he was right next to the stage Narat again looked at him with a flash of anger, or at least it seemed like anger to Roark. It was hard to tell with the mask. Narat peeled off his second T-Shirt and threw it directly at Roark, who caught it with a disgusted grimace - the cum from it instantly started running down his paw and arm.
Roark let his paw drop to his side. He kept watching his son as he played and danced for the crowd, peeling off layers of thing white clothing that were all but transparent from the product of so many men. Narat stared right into Roark's eyes as he finished his act, peeling off the boxers to show everything private of his body to everyone there, the dozens upon dozens of men all dreaming about bedding the young lion.
Roark found himself staring at his son's crotch and ass, whichever happened to be facing him at the time. He found his first memories of the night he forgot, he saw flashes of those intimate parts which were now slicked over with cum. He wanted to get up there on stage, he wanted to hug Narat, he wanted to kiss him, he wanted to clean everything dirty off of him and make him happy.
Narat kept dancing there, soaked in cum, dripping with cum and an indescribable power over everyone. He had control, nobody turned away from him - nobody. Not until he finished and made a slow, sexual walk out to the back stage.
Taking the shirt with him, Roark darted out of there, heading to the backstage entrance. He was let through by the security, who knew that Roark was one of their last chances for keeping the place in business. Roark went up to Rory sitting in the line of chairs and tilted his head. "Rory, I'll invest here, under one condition. I visit Narat after the show for a few minutes in privacy," he said.
Rory coughed, "Excuse me, Mr. Roark, but I am not a pimp. I do not have prostitutes in my club, at least, none that work for me. If you'd like to arrange business with my favourite star, then, that's your prerogative, but I won't go to him on your behalf to-"
"No, no, not like that," Roark said, shaking his head. He sighed and held his head up, "I don't want him as a hooker, I don't want him as a favour or a bribe. I know him from a long time ago. We parted on bad terms, I need to apologize to him in person," he explained.
Rory raised his eyebrow. "Personal acquaintance? Of what sort? I won't have you trying to dissuade my favourite act from his work."
"I wouldn't do anything of the sort, it's his life. I enjoyed watching him, perhaps too much, so, I have no right to say it's wrong of him to do it," he said. "And I'm his father."
Rory looked dumbstruck. "Father? That's impossible. He said both of his parents were dead."
"Literally, no. May I speak with him? Please?"
"I suppose so. He usually talks with the other performers for a few minutes, you should catch him before he gets in his shower. It takes him over three hours to get clean after the cumslut act," he said, now nervous that he wouldn't get his money because the man's son was in his employ.
Roark was waiting inside Narat's dressing room with the completely naked, soaked lion walked in. He stopped dead when he saw his father sitting in his chair. Without the mask it was easy to see that it was Narat, an older Narat without the innocence of his youth. He slammed the door shut angrily and looked at his father.
"Why are you here, dad?" he asked.
"I wanted to see you."
"Well, that you certainly did," said Narat, laughing darkly as he sat down on a small couch and leaned back. "But nothing you haven't seen before. I hope I made you proud up there."
"Not what I expected for you."
"Me, either, but you can't beat the tips," he said. "Is there a point to this besides trying to humiliate me? If you came for that you'll be disappointed. I got over being hurt and started getting angry a long time ago."
"Yes... I want to say that I'm sorry," he said, "for what I did. I... I was drunk, I didn't know what I was doing, I..." he started to explain, before Narat hissed and stood up.
"You were drunk the night before, not the morning, not the past four years. Don't give me that shit, because I know it's not true," the son said. "You could've read any one of my letters. Called me once. Hell, for fuck's sake, dad, you could've showed up at my door and said 'hi, son, remember me?'."
"I didn't mean for you to turn out this way. I'm sorry I did that to you," Roark said, sadly.
Narat looked at him next with a look of pure death and hatred, it made Roark squirm back in his seat. "Did this to me? No, no, dad, you've got it wrong. You didn't do this to me, this is just me. I like what I do. You of all people should know how great it is twisting the feelings and desires of people to get what you want. In your case it was sex, in my case it's money. No, this isn't bad, father, this is good. This is fucking amazing compared to what I was like when you left. Do you have any idea of how much you hurt me?!" he yelled.
"I don't remember it..." he admitted, softly.
"Convenient."
"It's the truth! I woke up, and when I realized what I'd done to you, I couldn't handle it," he said.
Narat paused with a new look of pain on his face. He hissed again and looked to the door, away from Roark. "If all you wanted was sex you could've just asked me, dad," he whispered, "you didn't have to..."
"I didn't mean to rape you. You have to believe me, Narat, I hate myself for it," he pleaded, wanting Narat's forgiveness more than anything.
"Rape me? What?" Narat asked, looking to Roark with the same dumbstruck look he used when he first saw him in the audience. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
Roark then, too, was confused. "I raped you, the night before I left. It's why I left," he said. "I didn't mean to."
Narat laughed, but it wasn't a good one. It was a sickly amused one. "You didn't rape me," he said, walking closer to his sitting father.
"What?"
"You didn't rape me. There. Now, go. You'd made your peace, so you can just leave me again. Go."
"What happened, then? I saw the-"
"What happened? You really want a play-by-play? You want me to go over the night that caused three years of complete fucking hell?" he yelled.
"Yes. I need to know, Narat," he whispered, "I need to say I'm sorry. I need you to forgive me."
"Fine. You and mom split. I know it was her fault, but I still hated you for it, because I could only see you half of the time. I got over it when we spent those nights together, talking. I really loved you, dad, as a father. I couldn't imagine my life without you. A few days before the formal I saw that you were upset, especially when I talked about it. When I went home to get ready you were crying, watching soaps with nothing but your shirt on," he said, smiling in some amusement at the memory, "and I mean nothing but your shirt. I asked you what was wrong, you wouldn't tell me. You just kept crying. I called it off with Jen so I could stay home and take care of you. We watched television, you put my head down in your lap. A little weird for me, especially whenever you got hard against my head, but I was fine with it. I got thinking. I loved you. I really did. I'd been thinking about it for a long time, but, in your lap I got it figured out right. I took you to bed when you fell asleep downstairs, and you started... saying something, I don't know, about me, and said you had a secret," he said.
"I did?" asked Roark, quietly.
"Yeah. You said you were sad that you didn't get to see me very much. That was when I told you I was in love with you, dad. I took off your shirt so you could sleep and I told you that I was in love with you, that I would always be, and I always had been, and that I was sorry if it freaked you out. You stopped crying. You laughed and hugged me. You pulled me on top of you, you kissed me, then you really kissed me. Practically suffocated me, really, with how you went at it," he said, his voice growing bitterly warmer as he went on, "You told me you loved me too. You said that you didn't want me to go to college, that you wanted me to move in with you, so that we could be a family. Just the two of us. We'd love each other and keep it secret from everyone else. I said I would. I mean, you fucking asked me to marry you," he said, tears forming in his eyes, "and I was eighteen, so, of course I was going to say maybe, that I wanted to say yes, but before I could you flipped me over. You made love to me for a few hours, then, fell asleep inside me."
Roark was crying at that point, too. He hadn't raped him at all, no, everything he wanted in his dreams were his.
"And then I woke up, and you left me again with that stupid note," he said, his voice suddenly loud with anger again. "I would've fucked you if you wanted, you didn't have to lie to me to get it. Do you have any idea of how I felt?!" he yelled, "You fucked me, told me you loved me, then you were gone! That's bad enough when some girl or guy does it, but you're my father! You could've said you didn't mean the things you said, that you were drunk, that you're straight, that you never wanted it to happen again, you could've said anything. But you didn't."
"I thought I hurt you, Narat, you don't know how bad that felt!" Roark said, trying to convince Narat of the truth. "I never lied to you, I didn't use you for sex. I'd been in love with you for years. Yeah, I wanted you to be my lover, but I didn't think you ever would. I woke up and I found you there. I thought I'd raped you, Narat, I thought I hurt you so much, and I couldn't live with that."
The young lion stopped and considered that for a moment, but, hissed again and started pacing around the small room. "Mom got me therapists after I dropped out of college. Do you know how hard it was, telling them that my dad left me after I fucked around with him on my prom night? That all I wanted was for you to come back?"
"I couldn't come back. I didn't think you'd ever trust me again," Roark said, "I'm sorry..."
"Well, I won't. You left me, dad. I was a kid. You popped my cherry, and then I woke up alone and scared because you were just gone," he said.
"I'm sorry."
Narat stopped and looked into Roark's eyes. All of his loving feelings for his father came rushing back into his head. He wanted to hug the old man, kiss him, mate him, talk about everything important and unimportant for hours and hours on end when he should be sleeping. He hated Roark for what he'd done to him, for the hell he put him through, but, being so close to him was bringing the love back, too. "I know you are," he said, finally deciding that he saw an incredible remorse in Roark's eyes.
"I should've stayed with you, I know that now."
"A lot of good it does me."
"It could do a lot of good! We can see each other, now," Roark said, hopefully, "I still love you, Narat, more than anyone else. More than I ever did your mother."
"You want to be with me?" Narat asked, doubt dripping in his voice. He looked down to his body and patted it, reminding Roark that the young lion was completely drenched in semen. "See, I personally like this. The smell of mostly horse cum grows on you after a while. I really, really don't think you want to be with me, because I'm not going to change myself for you. You don't deserve it, and I don't think you actually love me. Not if you left me after that, even if you had raped me. If you really loved me you would've been there when I woke up. Even if you'd done something that terrible, you could've just been there to tell me you were sorry."
Roark thought about it, but, he didn't care. He wanted Narat, stripper or not. To prove how accepting he was, Roark held up the drenched T-Shirt still in his paw and put it down. He took off his own shirt, noting that Narat's eyes were glued to the mane that ran from his chest down to his bellybutton. He then slipped on the soiled shirt, shivering the cold as much of his headfur and his torso was suddenly wet with the musky seed. The large lion stood up and walked up to Narat, standing in front of the shorter male. He leaned down to his ear and hugged him, getting the rest of his body sticky with cum, "I'm not asking you to forgive me yet," he said, "I just want you to know that I'm sorry, that I would never leave you again, and that I love you... I'd do anything for a second chance."
Narat tried to fight it. He'd been angry for so many years, but, all of that seemed to melt away when he smelt his father's heavy musk in his maw again. Quivering lightly in fear, most likely fear of being hurt again, Narat leaned upwards and kissed his father. It was a deep kiss, much like the one he'd first shared with his father. "Anything?" he whispered gently.
"Anything."
Narat thought of ways he could pay back his father, to get him to prove that the situation was really at Roark claimed it was. Narat normally wouldn't think so sadistically, but, it was a way for him to express his deep-seated anger towards Roark. He thought of forcing Roark into sex, making him humiliate himself, but, he didn't have the stomach for it. He wanted his father back, the one that made love to him, but he was still too angry to just say it. Narat walked over and laid down on his couch, not caring that he was soiling it with the cum that still covered him head to toe.
Roark waited for a few moments. He looked over to his son's body, but, mostly to his face. He wanted to be with Narat. Now that he knew all of those dreams could come true, he was willing to do anything to prove to his son that he could be trusted with his love. Roark kneeled down on front of the couch and gave a long lick to the stomach, causing his son to purr in surprise. Roark grimaced with the large, large globs of cum in his maw, which he swallowed dutifully. He'd be there for hours, surely, getting everything he could...
Narat looked down at his father who was licking him clean of so many strangers' cum. "What are you doing?" he asked in a whisper.
He moved to his son's sheathe after, wanting to try and taste something of his son. He licked over it, cleaning the entrance which caused it to stir and his son's cock to extend. He took it into his maw, sucked a few times, then, moved off. He spread Narat's leg off of the couch and stuck his head inwards, licking long lines of cum off of the young man's inner leg.
He next lapped at the sac, licking the tongue over it again and again, taking it into his maw to gently suckle, much to Narat's delight.
As Roark's tongue danced all over his body Narat purred louder and louder. He started stroking himself off as he imagined himself on stage, dancing, the cum pouring down his body with another lion on stage. He imagined that while he danced so slowly in the streaming cum his father was there with him, worshipping him, touching him, spreading the cum, licking it off of him and swallowing every drop that didn't smear onto his face of chest.
Narat giggled like a child again with he felt his father take almost his entire footpaw into his paw to suck clean. "Dad..." he moaned. A dominant streak came over him, a sadistic side from his anger. As his father came back up the leg Narat lifted one up very, very high, grabbed his father's head and pushed his muzzle in under his tail. He was greeted with what he wanted: he felt the warm, coarse tongue of the feline father drag over his tailhole, cleaning it of cum before pushing inside, causing the son to cry out and shake with delight.
Roark pulled his tongue out momentarily, breathing heavily, "I'll do anything you want, my son..."
Narat lifted his leg even further and pulled Roark's face in, loving the moment as his father pushed his tongue in again, sinking it deeper and deeper still. His mind went back to that stage, to dancing with a worshipping father, a loving one, the one he always wanted. The one he had and lost. "A-Anything?" he quivered.
Hours later a nicely clean, dressed Narat stood in Rory's office in front of his desk, wearing his nicest clothes while his father stood behind him with a lowered head and lowered ears, dried cum littering his face and forehead, still wearing the T-Shirt that was drenched in cum.
Rory was speechless, just staring at the two... they were related, all right, he saw the resemblance. How Roark got so messy was the horrifying and arousing part of his ponderings.
"My father will invest all of the money you need in this place," said Narat, a nicely evil, mischievous grin on his face, "under one condition. The cumslut show becomes a father-son act..."