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There was something to be said of boredom.

Boredom, spun positively, meant safety. That no threat you were aware of, would pounce upon you for any extended period. Negatively, it was a sort of long form stress, one that Monroe felt all too often when hunkered down in his private getaway in the mountains. It was a modest cabin with modern amenities: Plenty of water, refrigeration, internet, the large rat wasn't a savage after all. In his youth, he'd make do without the latter, but the superhighway of information had become too important to his lifestyle now to part with it.

The rat rubbed the dirty lenses of his glasses against the loose strip of his shirt. He leaned back into the leather chair, his body screaming to rest but his mind burning the midnight oil with a candle made from little curiosities and new schemes. The bright screens of his monitors lit up his office, like two eyes prowling in darkness. On one, he had a list of names in an excel file, linked with evidence and numbers that he could use for blackmail. On the other, a handy little program developed by a close friend that'd give him updates if any of his aliases were tracked and where.

Frankly, it felt like magic. But the rat didn't try to understand the complexities of such technology and considered it as such. His mind was better suited elsewhere, such as finding another mark upon the mountains of blackmail he had.

He was supposed to be on a 'vacation' as Sasha would call it. A break between schemes to cool down and relax. The first night of relaxation was filled with enough debauchery to keep his mind off of things. He scoffed, that was a lie. Even balls deep in Sasha's pretty ass, the rat was thinking of new schemes. It's why he couldn't sleep the second night, and why he found himself deep in his office on the third.

His leg bounced against the floor, releasing excess energy with every scroll of his thumb on the mouse. "Identity theft, identity theft, blackmail, corporate espionage. Oh, I could do that again." It'd been a good few years since he'd stolen company secrets for another corporation, and they did have excellent payouts. "Wait..." He leaned in to look at the document, then leaned back into his chair and sighed. "Too bloody restrictive." The payouts were fantastic, but corporations frowned on his usual methods, requiring him to play nice. Plus with how advanced technology and security was these days, he needed to know systems more than he needed to know people.

He slapped himself. Ridiculous. People were systems, and he could play people like a fiddle. All he needed was to know who to talk to, and figuring out what they wanted. The rest was child's play. Opening a new document, Monroe took his notes on primary targets to hit for a corporate job, as well as sending secure messages to contacts on what companies were looking for a little, or rather, big rat to sneak in.

Glued to the screen as he was, Monroe didn't notice the front door of his office squeaking open on unoiled hinges. Nor the tippity taps made by heels against the hardwood floor. A weight slipped under his lap, with a soft giggle that did not pull the large rat from his task. "Oh, daddy." Sasha whispered, his soft fingers walking up the rat's stomach. "I'm bored."

Monroe nodded his head. "Like, really bored." Sasha continued, the small rat curling into his lap like a feral cat. "I had myself a little fashion show earlier, would have loved for you to show up."

"That's nice, sweetie." Nestle always had openings for espionage work, but Monroe still had a soul. It was malnourished and sickly, but it did exist. "Maybe Facebook?" He said under his breath, eyes squinting at the screen, "Wait, what's Meta?"

"It's their new name." Monroe felt a tug down his shirt collar down, forcing him face to face with a diminutive rat with a fake smile and agitated eyes. "The CEO's lost his mind and trying something stupid as if he can bury all the horrible things he's done. It'll probably work, people are dumb. But that's no excuse to ignore me." The blonde rat's knee pressed against his father's crotch. Suddenly Monroe was all the more aware of Sasha's outfit, from the sheer white negligee to the matching stockings and red heels.

"Shouldn't the heels be white?" Monroe nervously chuckled, trying to backpedal his ignorance from before.

"I don't have white heels." Sasha pouted, "I was hoping we could go buy some."

"You are old enough to drive on your own. We even have an adjuster seat for..." For as silver as he claimed his tongue to be, Monroe had a habit of eating his own foot with Sasha. The young rat's brow furrowed, and his knee pressed harder on his crotch. His blood flow appreciated the pressure.

"I wanna..." Sasha closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and smiled, "Fine. I can do that. But first I wanna do something else." Climbing up his father's chest, the small rat's lips pressed against Monroe's and stayed there. Monroe let his son's tongue slip through, tangling with his own like two snakes vying for control. His underwear stretched, the erection growing underneath Sasha's weight. "There it is," Sasha softly laughed as he broke away, their breath shared for the moment. "You're such a pain when you're working."

Sasha pressed a finger to Monroe's lips before he could argue, "Nu huh. Quiet." He slithered down his father's body, slipping between his hefty legs to kneel at the floor. The rat stared at the outline in his father's briefs, lavishly licking his lips at the monster barely contained within. Two fingers twirled against it, dragging down from the tip, to the sack underneath.

Monroe couldn't hold his shudder as Sasha slipped around the waistband and pulled his cock free, the temperature air growing chill against his pulsing meat. The young rat's breath cascaded down, his cheek embracing the throbbing rod. "You've been so busy." Sasha sniffed the air, "Eww...it even smells."

Not that that's ever stopped his son. Monroe nestled his back into the chair, giving his son leeway to do what he pleased. First came the suckling and massaging of his sack. With dexterous digits, the younger rat pulled and toyed with his father's balls, scrunching them together for his hot tongue to lather, then lifting up for his tongue to reach Monroe's taint. "Going deep aren't you, my little slut?" He teased.

Sasha's response was a quick little squeeze of his father's sack. "Maaaybe." He giggled, his father's grunting notwithstanding. Releasing his daddy's precious orbs, Sasha turned his attention to the fat cock standing over him. Both hands took hold, one playfully teasing the tip with a finger rubbing at the urethra, the other slowly pumping his shaft. Monroe had half a mind to just force his son's throat down the shaft. But something kept him at bay. Whether it was exhaustion, or preference to let his son take the wheel, he wasn't sure.

The rat's tongue was divine. Its saliva stained his rod as the rat dragged along from the base to the tip. Lips pressed against the pink tip, heavily kissing the rat's head before suckling down. Monroe grit his teeth, hovering his hand over the blonde bimbo of a boy's head. Few men had the luck to just take what Sasha gave. The boy was a natural honey-pot, slipping in to their marks. His teasing, the tricks, and every movement that begged to be fucked. But Monroe didn't need to beg. He knew his son's weaknesses, his desires to be brutally fucked and dominated. Even now, as the small rat suckled inches down the cock with that vacuum of a throat, Monroe could tell Sasha wanted him to thrust in and make him choke.

But he didn't. "Such a greedy little whore." Monroe whispered, going as far to tighten his grip at the boy's scalp. His hips would not move, paralyzed by something he couldn't grasp. Inch after inch the son went, his tongue lavishly tasting the rod inside that warm crevice of his mouth. His suppressed gag reflex let him hit the base with ease, and his eyes opened with lust dancing in the sparkles as he pulled out and looked up to his father. A small bridge of saliva breaking at the seams.

"I can't help it." The rat licked his lips and smiled, "I've been starved for so long." How long could it have been, they've only been in the cabin for a day. Monroe laughed, his son's promiscuity never ceased to amaze him. A combination of himself and the boy's mother. The only favorable thing about the woman he could say of her now.

"Well, you best get your fill then." Monroe snapped his fingers, "Chop chop." Sasha's grin told him plenty. His son's lips embraced his tip yet again, his throat expanding as inch after inch slipped in and out of the young man's mouth. Man...Monroe chuckled, his son was barely a man. A proper sissy was what he was.

Both hands held his shaft and pumped, with Sasha's suction focusing at the upper half of his cock. The father steadied his breath, ears twitching at the wet sloppy sounds of his son. His muscles tensed. Fingers dug into the armrest of his chair, his lips tightly locked with the urge to suppress his cry. His son's tongue broke such restraint, leading the father to gasp out as his hips spasmed. Strand after strand shot down Sasha's throat, which he greedily slurped and sucked out as if the rat needed to remove poison.

Monroe crashed back against his chair, his grip faltering to the side. His cock begged for warmth as Sasha pulled out, leaving it stained with saliva and seed. The small rat licked his lips, wiping away the excess white silky fluid from his maw. "Someone's been pent up."

Pent up. Pent up. Penthouse! Monroe's eyes cracked wide as a new idea crashed into him. His fingers whirred to life, tapping the keyboard to find targets with high rises, penthouses, any extra homes they'd take their dates or mistresses to. "Dad? Hello? Daddy?" The snap of Sasha's fingers fell on deaf ears.

"Not now, sweetie." Monroe pulled out a drawer and tossed his keys from it to his son, "Daddy's working. Why don't you go get yourself something nice?" He didn't look to see Sasha's expression, nor paid any attention when the boy left the room in a huff. Only the slamming of the door snapped him out of it, long enough to realize his cock was still hanging out.

He zipped back up and continued to work.

***

Every step felt burdened by lead. Monroe yawned as he trudged his way to the kitchen. Slicking back his hair, the rat discovered it to be surprisingly greasy. A sign that he'd forgotten to sleep for at least a day. Perhaps after the fourth scheme was planned he could go to bed? Or perhaps a fifth? It was helpful to have backup plans during their con season.

Rounding the living room, a peculiar sight hooked into the corner of his eye. Sasha was on the couch, feet up on the coffee table and bedraggled. His normally well kept blonde hair was a mess, his face messy and lacking make up, and he was wearing only a loose bathrobe with a white undershirt and panties. His shirt alone had a brown stain, likely from the chocolate ice cream carton that laid empty at the table. No, not empty. The scooper filled its contents.

"Something the matter, dear?" Monroe yawned. Oh how he needed a good cup of joe right now. Sasha scowled at the rat, crossing his arms and turning away as if he could sink into the leather couch. Monroe had been in enough relationships to know a bad sign when he saw one. "Did you have trouble sleeping last night?" He asked, the couch creaking under his weight.

"I'm the only one who has slept." Sasha kept his face away from his father, but the indignant tone was clear.

"Was your beauty sleep on the wrong side?" Monroe asked with a grin, only for it to disappear at his son's scowl. "It was a joke, Sasha. Sorry. Are you feeling cooped up?" It only seemed natural after all. They'd been in the cabin for..."Huh..." Monroe sat still, dumbfounded at his sense of time growing blurry all of a sudden. He was certain they arrived on Sunday. "Honey, what day is it?"

"Wednesday." Sasha crossed his arms and looked on with judgment. The kind reserved for loving spouses who were just mere seconds away from the dreaded 'I told you so' that sitcoms loved to shove down one's throat. Monroe blinked at the revelation, running the numbers in his head. It can't have been Wednesday, he hadn't slept since they'd gotten here. He'd been working and.

"Oh..." Monroe meant to mouth it, but his voice carried through, "Oh my...I've been..."

Sasha nodded, "Yeah...last I saw you was two days ago."

"When you..."

"Yup."

"So I...how?" Monroe looked to the clock, seeing the small arm a quarter past twelve. "How have I been eating?" His stomach rumbled in response, cursing his body with weakness.

"You've been snacking." Sasha leaned over and poked the big rat's stomach, "Lots of salty foods. Not great on your diet, dad."

"How am I still awake?"

Sasha raised his brow, "You mean, besides your workaholic tendencies?" Monroe nodded, running a hand through his greasy hair. A shower was on the top of his list now. "You've got a minifridge of energy drinks in your office. That's if you run out of those five-hour-energy shots."

"Oh...oh dear..." Monroe sank into the cushion, all too aware of how heavy his heart felt. Not only that, but the bags in his eyes, the constant shift of lanky to jittery energy, his dry tongue, and the bodily grease. He was a mess, an honest to God mess. "Wait...what have you been doing this whole time?"

"You mean besides worrying about you?" Sasha snipped, then rolled over to pull his legs over his father's lap. "Nothing much. I took the keys and went to the nearest mall to go shopping again, which killed a whole day. Beyond that I've been binging old TV and trying not to eat ice cream." His eyes darted to the left. Monroe followed, eyes trailing back to the carton that once held double fudge brownie. "Failing too."

This was absurd. "How could I let this happen?" Monroe tried to stand but found his legs noncompliant. "I just wanted to build up a few schemes for our next outing. How could I miss so many days?"

"It's not the first time." Sasha muttered under his breath.

"Pardon?"

His son sighed, rolling his eyes. "Dad, you're a workaholic. Every time we take a break, you spend at least a full day doing prepwork for stuff. Prepwork I know you're going to do again anyway when our break is over. Normally I'm fine with it. It's one day, I use it to go out and enjoy myself with our money. Buy a few things, see a movie, get a sunday, whatever." The small rat swerved in place, curling his knees up to the couch and holding them tight. "I tried breaking you out of it, but you got really lost in it. Almost made me feel like...well...like I wasn't there. Like I was invisible again."

Monroe blinked, feeling a lump in his throat. From the poor eating habits, to the way Sasha looked away or vacant whenever he spoke to him, how could the rat have failed to notice this before? This was just like his goth phase back when he was still married, back when all the rat was focused on was the next big score. When Sasha felt alone and miserable. "Honey, no." Monroe scooted closer, hugging his son. "I'm sorry. I've just been so busy."

"Don't give me that excuse!" Sasha punched his thigh. "Just, just don't give me excuses, dad. This was supposed to be a relaxing break for us. Where I didn't need to practice lines or positions, or flirt with gross old men for marks."

"Not all the marks are old."

"Oh there are plenty." Sasha crossed his arms and huffed. Monroe opened his mouth to argue, but swiftly shut it. Half because arguing a point wasn't going to help better the conversation, since this wasn't something he was supposed to win. And half because plenty of the new marks he lined up were old men either deep in the closet, or uncaring about what who they fucked.

As much a professional honeypot Sasha was, even he had limits. "You're right," Monroe sighed, "I've been cooped up in my office." He sniffed his own B.O. and reeled, "So much that I am in desperate need of a shower and bath." Running his fingers over his scalp, the rat added, "I haven't had hair this greasy since I was a teenager."

"Are you done?" Sasha asked softly, "Promise me that you'll be done with working for the rest of the vacation. Please."

Those puppy-dog eyes from his mother put Sasha's begging on another level. Monroe first ran the numbers in his head, only for the angel on his shoulder to hold out his palm to stop the flow. Then swiftly smack the rat's cheek with it. "Yes." Monroe nodded, unable to restrain his coming yawn, "Yes, I'll stop for the rest of our vacation. Although," With a snide grin, the large rat grabbed his son by the collar of his bathrobe, and pulled him over his legs. "I do need to remind you about proper etiquette in my house."

Whatever despair that held Sasha slipped away with a giggle as Monroe pulled up the mouse's robe, revealing a pert round bottom covered in a pretty pink thong. "You sure, daddy?" The son asked, "Maybe you should take a nap and a shower before doing something."

"Oh, that can wait." Not long, but they could wait. Especially with an ass as fine as his son's, He slipped his fingers between the elastic stretch band, slowly pulling it down just enough to leave that bare bottom exposed. "What can't, is the mess you made. I mean, ice-cream in the living room? I know I raised you better than that."

"I got boooored," Sasha playfully drowned out, already wiggling his ass, "Can daddy really blame little old me?"

He damn well could. The rat knew he raised his son better than this, better than some slob desperate for attention. His answer didn't come with words, but with a heavy slap that came with a wind up. Sasha squeaked, his body going stiff as the sting of his father's flat hand crawled up his spine.

Monroe didn't stop at one. His hand fell again and again, cracking across the smaller rat's bubbly butt. Sasha winced and cried out, kicking his legs out as if he could squeeze his way free. Monroe only held him tighter, smiling as the boy's erection pressed against his pants. By the end of it, when his hand felt numb from all the strikes, Sasha's ass pulsed and throbbed with a bright pink. "I'm sorry!" Sasha cried out, tears down his cheeks, "I'll clean it up, I promise!"

"Oh, I know you will." Monroe pulled his boy up and embraced those pouty lips with his own. His son's wailing ceased, all the air for it sucked by his father. "You're going to clean this place up," He said as he pulled away, "Then you're going to clean my office, and the kitchen. You can put on your cute little maid dress if you'd like, but by the time I'm ready, I expect this cabin to be spotless, is that clear young man?"

Sasha nodded, "Yes, daddy." The rat said with glee, hopping off the couch and sprinting to their bedroom. Monroe would have laughed. His son had been spanked so hard that he swore the ass sizzled, yet he was up and running like nothing had happened. The recovery time of the boy was simply phenomenal.

Instead, Monroe crashed sideways into the couch, his eyes closed and heavy as lead.

***

A day and a half had passed when Monroe woke up. The couch lacked the support of a bed, but he rose from it both refreshed and with a plan. After a quick shower and some food for his rumbling stomach, the rat went about prepping everything in motion.

Now it was three in the morning. A fresh cup of coffee sat in his cup holder, with a special cap to keep it from spilling amongst the bumps in the road. The offbeat path to their cabin had plenty, but he'd made sure none would be a problem for Sasha.

The best thing about being in the middle of nowhere, is that no one really came to visit the parks surrounding it. Hitting the paved road, Monroe traveled twenty minutes before pulling into an empty green field with gazebos littered across the horizon and at least one cement square built to house bathrooms. Not a single soul was there save for them, perfect for whatever he desired that morning.

Out of his van, the rat brushed down his casual shirt and jeans on his way to the trunk. One click from his keychain and the door slowly opened, the mechanical whirring mixed with the squeak of rubber and the gagged moans of his latex-covered son, bound, blindfolded, and muffled in the trunk. "Enjoy the trip, slut?" He chuckled, hooking a finger underneath the boy's collar to pull him forward.

If he used a smaller gag, Monroe was certain he'd see a bratty little smile. But the wide and thick rubber pink ball combined with the tight latex across his son's head robbed the mouse of any facial hints. Sasha knew this and nodded, carefully stepping out of the van on black platform heels that gave him four extra inches of height. Not that it made enough of a difference.

Latex stretched and squeaked across his body with every tiny movement. Monroe had spent a good hour and plenty of lube and baby-powder to make sure the suit left little to the imagination. Not even his son's cock was free, instead covered in a hefty bulge with enough pressure to force the boy to stay soft. He had considered letting it out, but having it strain against the latex seemed all the more torturous and fun. Monroe chuckled, grabbing the ponytail he had bound almost all of his son's blonde hair into, like a backwards horn from the hood itself. The blindfold robbed him any look into Sasha's eyes, but the rat knew his son was blushing red under there.

"Come along now." Monroe clicked a leash through Sasha's D-ring collar, "We've got quite the walk to make this morning." Tugging softly, the rat made his way down the sidewalk pavement through the park.

Even with his arms bound behind him, and his tail tied up to his collar, Sasha never faltered. Of course, his father kept a steady pace, never daring to pull the small rat too hard to cause a trip. Like a machine, the latex rat strutted his steps, his ass bobbing back and forth with his back straight and proper. The click of his platform heels were the percussion to their debaucherous symphony.

"Can't you just smell that morning air?" Monroe breathed deep through his nose and exhaled out his mouth, "The perfect time for exercise if I do say so myself. Not that a slut like you gets normal exercise." Laughing, he stopped and sat at a bench underneath a gazebo. Standing Sasha still, the rat crossed his legs and gave an order. "Why don't we fix that? Spread your legs." The rat opened his knees, earning a scoff from Monroe, "Shoulder length, you dumb bimbo. Christ, I shouldn't need to do everything."

Drool dripped from the latex rat's gag. He spread his legs wide, perpendicular to his shoulders. "Good, good. Now, I want you to turn around and give me some squats. Nice and slow." His gimp's round black ass arched in his direction, exposing the hole that gave free access to his backdoor. A single pull ring stood out from it, the end to a line of anal beads he'd popped in one at a time for the brat. "That's right. Now give me a squat." The rat buckled his knees and lowered his ass down, then raised up. "Again. Keep going."

Grunts slipped from the gag with each squat. Monroe ignored them, focusing on his son's filled ass and his own growing erection. Finding himself too confined, Monroe released his straining rod to the cool morning summer air. "Chop, chop, bitch." The rat tugged at his son's leash, toppling the short rat to his knees. ""Daddy needs some attention."

The thrill of getting caught jolted up and down his sides once Sasha's lips wrapped around his rod. The odds were in their favor, no one but park staff would come this early and he knew from experience this park was understaffed. So he relaxed, sinking into the bench as Sasha's warm mouth enveloped his rod, the boy's head bobbing up and down.

The black sky turned a dark blue, so close to the rising pink of the son. Satisfied with his appetizer, Monroe pulled his son off and pushed the rat against the gazebo railing. "Stick your ass up," He growled playfully, groping the bubblebutt of the bimbo'd gimp. Looping his finger around the ring of the beads, the rat pulled at it with care. One. Pop. Two. Pop. Beads starting two inches wide and growing smaller until free and tossed unceremoniously to the floor. Sasha moaned with each bead, wistfully hanging his head as his back door laid out exposed. Perfectly inviting for his father.

"Looks like you've got some lube left from the toy." Monroe lined his bulbous head against the loose pucker, "Let's hope your spit is enough, you filthy little whore." With both hands at his son's love handles, the rat slammed hard into the boy. Sasha cried out in silence, his mouth hanging agape with the entirety of his father's cock inside him.

Sasha didn't need time to adjust. Already, he felt the small rat squeezing his insides like an expert, massaging the fat cock with anal muscles alone. Monroe's fingers dug in and he pulled back, slamming back in. Now his son squeaked, a lovely note to start his symphony. "That's it, you filthy whore." Monroe grunted, repeatedly thrusting himself inside the welcoming hole. "Take your daddy's cock. But don't play dead fish now. Just cause I made you a toy, doesn't mean you need to act like a fucking onahole."

His son nodded in the midst of his father's fucking, pushing his hips against the larger rat's to build rhythm. The railing shook under him, the wood creaked. Monroe barely noticed it above the sloppy wet sounds of his cock and Sasha's heavy panting.

"H-Harder..." The gimp grunted out.

"Oh?" Monroe pulled his son back by the bound ponytail, "Be louder, little slut."

"Harder!" The rat cried out, loud enough to turn the heads of any theoretical passersby. As if they weren't already watching. Happy to comply, Monroe locked his arms around his son's throat and pulled him back, keeping him off the ground with only his cock and arms keeping the rat steady.

A quivering sensation rocked Sasha. His body squirmed underneath his father's iron grip, high pitched but soft squeals escaping his panting mouth. "Oh, did someone have a little accident?" Monroe chuckled, pushing the latex nub against the wooden railing. "I bet you must hate how disgusting it feels in there. Your cock, swimming in a pool of your own seed while I'm not even done."

Whatever response Sasha could mutter was held back by the rat holding his mouth shut. No sense in him making further noise as the dark blue sky turned orange and pink. The heat of the morning sun washed over him, right as the walls of his dam cracked. Monroe heaved one, two, and three more times before locking balls deep into his son's pucker, every spasm filling the insides with a hot sticky mess.

For a moment, he pondered on just staying there. Waiting until someone, most likely a park employee, found the two of them locked in place. As fun as the idea was, Monroe pulled out and reached into his coat pocket, finding a wide buttplug to seal his seed into the younger rat's asshole. "Think you can walk, little bitch?" He asked.

Sasha gave the most minimal nod he could. He figured as much, guessing that those short legs were on fire underneath the latex. Squats and a rough fucking would do that. Hoisting him over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, Monroe carried the rat back over to the car and locked him back into the trunk. "We're far from done today, little slut. But I'll make sure you get a shower when we get home. Maybe two, if you earn a cleaning."

His son, in exhaustion, simply stuck his tongue out in defiance. Good enough reason as any to stuff that ballgag back in. "Oh, you wanna be bratty?" He said, suddenly realizing he had another excuse to punish his son's misbehavior. Rounding back to the glove compartment, Monroe slipped two vibrating bullets into Sasha's tight null bulge. Easy to do with all the natural lubricant down there. One quick press from his phone, and the vibes powered on, leaving the gimp rat to struggle against the trunk cuffs.

It was going to be a pleasant ride.