FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

By Draconicon

"Ben! BEN!"

Taylor's shouting brought no response from the rest of the house, as Paul knew would be the case. His father was too whipped, the sheepdog's brother too broken to be a good ally anymore. The pastor was alone, completely helpless.

"He's not coming until I call," Paul said, fondling himself with his free hand while keeping the sheepdog pinned with the other. His brothers' toes wiggled invitingly in the middle of the table, showing off how stained they'd become with the sauce and pasta that covered their soles. "And you're not going to leave until I show you how much happier you can be living like me."

"You - let go of me...let go!"

"Not until I'm done."

He slowly unzipped his pants, letting his cock fall into his hand. It had been hard for a while, stiff and eager from the massage earlier and only getting harder at the sight of his brothers in such a ridiculous state. They were hot this way, yes, with their sexy feet and their obedient bodies in the table like this, but he just loved seeing them being the bitches that they were. They had tried for so long to treat him as the bitch of the family, but who was the alpha now?

Taylor tried to stand up, and Paul just shoved him back down. He turned at the hip, tapping his tapered tip against the sheepdog's cheek and leaving a hint of pre-cum behind.

"Heh, what's the matter? I thought you came here for dinner."

"This is an affront against the lord!"

"No, you are."

"Let me go, you - mmph!"

It took very little effort to shove his cock past his uncle's lips, though he only left it in there for a split second. Just long enough to leave a little pre-cum behind, enough to put a taste for it in the other dog's mouth. No need for more, and no need to give him the chance to bite down in anger, either.

As Taylor coughed, sputtering, Paul shoved him forward, pressing his face towards the soles on the table. The sheepdog fought it, briefly, but eventually, his nose was all but buried in the saucy noodles, pressing through them to the sweaty soles just beneath.

"Heh, what's the matter? Don't like the fancy plates that we set up for you?"

"MMMPH!"

"Or are you just that stuck-up that you don't think you can eat off a living plate?"

"MMPH! MMMPH!"

"Maybe you just need a little bit of extra 'help.'"

He yanked the pastor back, giving the older dog a chance to catch his breath for a few seconds. Shaking his head, he looked down the hall, shouting.

"Dad! Get your bitch-ass in here!"

"Is that...is that any way...to speak to your father?" Taylor panted, groaning. "What is the matter with you? You were so...so much better..."

"No. I was just patient."

"You...what is...what did you do..."

"What they deserved."

His dad walked into the kitchen at that moment, and he was appropriately undressed. The bigger, slightly heavier Doberman grunted as he stood in the doorway, his cock bobbing up and down, his balls clearly swollen with need. He was huffing and puffing, too, all but growling with need.

"There you are. Hold him."

He passed the duties of keeping the pastor pinned to his father, leaning down to John's feet. The middle brother had long, slender soles, perfect for feeding from, and the first lick through the pasta and sauce brought a moan from below.

"What - stop doing this!" Taylor shouted, even as the bigger Doberman held him by the shoulders. "Ben! You have to stop this! Why are you -"

"Nnngh..."

"Don't bother telling him to do anything," Paul said between licks, dragging his tongue between his brother's toes. "He's going to do whatever I say from now on."

"What..."

"I took them, uncle. Took them and changed them."

"You little demon..."

"Heh, if you want to call me that, sure."

He had done what he needed to do. His father and brothers didn't approve of his lifestyle, didn't like the gay thing, or the pervert thing, or anything about what he did. They were just determined to knock it out of him one way or another, and if they couldn't, they'd isolate him until they could just see him leave or kill himself.

No more of that.

None of that.

He dragged his tongue along John's left foot until the sole was completely cleaned of all pasta and sauce, and his older brother moaned as he delivered a few more slippery licks from heel to arch.

"Mmmm, big brother likes that, huh?" Paul teased.

"Mmm!"

"Gonna cum from getting your feet licked?"

"Oh god, oh god."

"You...you..."

Taylor's words were weaker and weaker, probably because he didn't know how to respond. Paul looked up as he sucked the meatballs off his brother's toes, looking at the blush that covered the older sheepdog's face.

He doesn't know how to take it. Good.

He finally cleaned the other sole, leaving it completely spit-shined, and dragged his head back. Clearing his throat, he adjusted his middle brother's ankles, pushing them down and out through the table.

"John. Get up. I think uncle needs some more sauce."

"Mmmph...mmm..."

"What...you can't...what - Ben, let me go! BEN!"

There was no response from their father. The older Doberman had been completely broken, and even now, the only thing that he did besides holding the pastor down was thrust against the back of his head. Thrust, thrust, thrust went those hips, and that big, fat dog cock was constantly dripping, drooling against the back of Taylor's head. There was no stopping that lust, no slowing it down. It was constant, now.

John pulled out from beneath the table, slowly dragging himself to his feet. At Paul's direction, Taylor's chair was turned away from the table, forced to look to the side as the middle brother walked around the table. It was quite the sight, really, and Paul just kept chuckling to himself as he jerked off at the table. He knew what was coming next, and he knew that it was going to be a big one.

As John turned around, a butt plug was revealed, big and solid and metal. Jammed past his pucker, held in place with clips to the other Doberman's taint piercings, it was sufficiently wide to keep that hole well and truly puffy and puckered. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that that hole had been turned into a fuck-toy, and that John completely enjoyed the process. Even now, his pucker pulled and pushed against the toy, letting it almost pop out time and time again. It was so slippery with lube, too...lube, and something just a little bit more.

"Take it out, John," Paul said.

His middle brother nodded, moaning as he pulled at the base. It came free with a wet 'squelch' sound, and as soon as he did, he moaned, his cock jumping. He leaned forward, ass going up, little nub tail wagging as he spread his cheeks...and backed up.

"Wait, wait, what are you doing?! Get that - stay away! STAY AWAY!" Taylor shouted.

"Not a chance. You need a little sauce to get into the spirit of things. Drink it from your nephew's ass."

"No, you can't - mmph!"

Ben shoved Taylor's head forward, the Doberman pushing his brother right against the younger canine's ass cheeks. Sweat and slime and lube and cum - Paul's corrupted cum, as a matter of fact - oozed between the cheeks, leaving them so slick and wet. The sheepdog was instantly lost between them, and the start of a boner that had come from the massage started popping up all the more firmly between his legs.

Breathe it in, you little holy bitch, Paul thought. Take it in and enjoy it...

He couldn't make them believe that he was right, or that he was allowed to do what he wanted. So, instead, he'd make them like him...

Mostly.

"Heh, you like it, don't you?" Paul said.

"Nnngh!"

"Push it out, John."

His bitch-brother did everything that he was told, as he would do from now on no matter how undignified it was. He pushed out, grinding out the loads that Paul had left in him from earlier in the day into the pastor's mouth. The father held the sheepdog's head in place, keeping him from pulling back or dragging his head to the side, and just as much helping to force the holy man to take everything down.

Everything.

Every.

Slimy.

Mouthful.

"Heh, you're going to like it, soon enough. Everyone does. Deep down inside, everyone has a slutty side to themselves that they can't help but embrace with the right kind of encouragement."

"Mmmph...mmmph..."

And it was clear that the pastor was getting a hell of a boner despite himself, one that was throbbing so hard in those pants. His toes curled against the floor, and - yes, there it was. The first little darkening of the pants as pre-cum started to flow.

Paul smirked, stroking himself a little harder at the loud sound of passing cum from ass to mouth, at the musky smell that soaked the kitchen, at the horny events that were happening right in front of him. He would have challenged any gay man to avoid stroking himself to the show going on. It was so hot, so perverted, so perfect.

And all mine.

He owned these bitches, now. His brothers, his father, and now, his uncle. They were all part of his debauched little playground, there for his pleasure and naught else. They were there to do what he wanted.

What he craved.

What he desired.

"Mmmph..."

He pulled his hand from his cock, feeling the pre-cum oozing from his fingers. They were soaked, now, and his balls were churning with the urge to have something more down there, but he would hold back. Just a little longer. Just a little but more.

"Pull forward, John."

His middle brother did just that, dragging his hips away from the pastor. Just as Paul hoped, the sheepdog's tongue was sticking out of his mouth, stained with cum. Whether that had started as an attempt to keep the old cum from going down his throat or if it had been more something that had been corrupted from the start, it clearly had become a rimming session, something that was slowly dawning on the bitch in the seat.

Taylor panted, his eyes wide, his face burning like the sun, and he coughed. A few flecks of white slime fell from his lips.

"Better?" Paul asked.

"Bastard."

"That's not nice from a pastor."

"You...you..."

"You've got an erection."

"...I...you...what foul...foul thing is this?"

"No idea," Paul admitted. "I don't know where it all came from, but I know what it does...and I know how much it affects you."

"You...let me...let me go..."

"Not a chance in hell. Besides...you don't want to leave."

He reached under the desk with one leg, dragging his foot along that boner. Taylor immediately seized up, his hips bucking forward - clearly without his intent - and Paul chuckled at the feeling of that hard-on against his foot. He stroked his toes down the sides of it, feeling just how tight it was, how tense the shaft had become.

"Unzip him, dad."

The older Doberman reached down despite his brother's protests, pulling the zipper down. The briefs that the older sheepdog wore were soaked around the tip of that erection, begging to be pulled down.

Which they were.

Slowly.

He tapped the tapered tip of that shaft with his toes, making it bob from side to side. The feeling of such excitement underfoot was more than he expected to get from his uptight uncle, particularly this quickly. It seemed that the various chemicals in his seed had done more than he expected.

Hot. Really fucking hot to see something like that.

"Hey, pastor. What do you think's going to happen tonight?" Paul asked.

"I...You...you will...be judged for this," Taylor said.

"I've been judged all my life. Fucking - do you think that's anything new?"

"..."

"I've been judged all my life. Dad thought I was a fucking nut. My brothers looked down on me. You never had word one of anything good about me. Didn't matter what I did. So, when nothing matters, why bother trying to be anything else?"

He chuckled, bringing his other foot up, batting that big cock between his uncle's legs back and forth. Tap, tap, tap went that shaft between his feet, getting flicked side to side with his toes, feeling the wetness dribbling down from the tip over his feet. Oh, it was begging for attention, alright, but it was only going to get what he allowed.

Throb.

Pulse.

Drip.

"You see, when I'm done with you, I'm going to be nice. Nicer than you ever were to me. See, I'm going to allow you to leave."

"Nnngh...w-why?"

"To show you how it feels. To let you find out how desperate you can get, when the rest of the world hates what we want. I'm going to let you go...and still keep enough of your mind to preach. To say what you want in church. But you'll never forget how badly you want this...and maybe, one day, you'll learn how to do what I do. Or maybe not. But regardless...you'll want more...and more...and more...

"And one day, you'll come back. Because even if you scratch your itch with the people in your congregation...it'll never be as good as what I can give you."

He could all but smell the fear rising in his uncle, and it was delicious. The fact that he still thought that there'd be some way forward, some way out of this, was positively ridiculous, but he clearly hadn't thought of just how far Paul would take this.

Oh, he could take it further. He had been tempted to take this to the point of utterly mind-breaking the pastor and then sending him back, leaving him as nothing but a complete danger to this congregation. Or, he could have broken him and kept him here, though that would have led to questions.

Sending him back with just a smidgen of his mind, though, giving him all the wants and needs and desires that filled the house these days without the compulsion to return...to make it an addiction that the pastor would have to deal with, one that he'd inevitably lose control of?

That was hot.

That was sexy.

That was revenge.

He stroked himself as that cock continued to throb between his feet, feeling it pulse happily as he stroked it with his toes. His uncle complained with soft grunts and whimpers, unable to find the words any longer to resist him. He chuckled to himself.

"Dad. Let him go."

As soon as the older Doberman pulled his hands back, Taylor leaped to his feet. Or at the very least, he tried to. The 'massage oil' from earlier, all that sweat and cum and spit that Paul had rubbed into his uncle's feet, came into play.

"NNNGH!"

The older man tumbled over, falling on his face. He arched his back, toes curling as he came right then and there, shooting his load all over his stomach, his chest, and the tiled floor of the kitchen.

"I don't think that you understand," Paul said. "I have already corrupted you."

"Nnngah!"

"And you are going to feel that."

"MMmph!"

"And so much more. Forever. That pleasure, that need, is never going to go away. And you will have to feed it, or you'll go insane. Do you understand?"

If Taylor did, he was doing a piss-poor job of showing it, though it was something that was rather hard to get out while cumming your brains out. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

He'd won. He already knew that. The fact that his uncle was on the ground, cumming so hard, spitting and hissing through his teeth as he felt the pleasure ramp up and go down again, told him that much. There'd be no saving his uncle from a life of debauchery, and he wondered how long it would be until there was a headline in the newspaper of the 'pervert priest' that had molested someone in his congregation.

Call me a deviant? You'll be worse.

He leaned back, putting his feet on the table. His father and John alike turned to stare, their mouths open, their lips covered in drool. Their conditioned hunger for him and his body meant that they'd come over and do whatever he said as long as it meant that they got the pleasure that they craved. He smirked at them, curling his toes.

"Dad."

"Mmmph..."

"I'll let you play with my ass in a minute. John. Get the bitch on his back."

As his middle brother flipped the pastor over, Paul pushed his father to clean the pasta and mess off of Daniel's feet. They were going to have an interesting time in a minute, and at least his father could get the job done without being forced the way that Taylor still would. The corruption was started, and he knew that there was no way that it could be reversed, but it still had some way to go.

As the cleaning went on, Taylor laid on his back. The pastor was cum-stained, humiliated, his eyes clenched shut as he huffed and puffed to try and catch his breath, but his cock throbbed painfully hard for all to see. There was no avoiding that, no ignoring the throbbing member.

"Heh...pathetic..."

"Mmmph...you...you did this..."

"And for someone that looked down on me so hard, it's pathetic that it worked this well. I thought you'd at least hold out for a few days. But here you are, begging for another orgasm already, throbbing and spitting pre-cum."

"You - nnngh!"

John stepped on that cock, and the middle brother moaned. Yes, that was still working; he still got pleasure out of giving footjobs, his feet as much of an erogenous zone for him as his cock was.

As soon as Daniel's soles were likewise cleaned, he released his oldest brother from the table, as well. The massive gap left showed how much improvised work had been done to set things up for their uncle, but it was forgotten just as quickly as the oldest brother looked down at their uncle's cock. His eyes lit up, but before he could leap for it and ride it like the butt-slut that he'd become, Paul cleared his throat.

"Not yet," he said.

"But -"

"Empty your ass out, first."

"Oh. Where?"

"His mouth. Obviously."

"Oh, right...right..."

As Taylor squirmed, barely holding himself together as John kept up the footjob, Daniel did the same thing that John had. He reached between his cheeks, fanning out that muscular ass of his, and slowly pulled on the plug that was wedged between them. The pastor's eyes flicked up, his mouth falling open, and he shook his head as if in disbelief.

Heh...your brother's gone, one nephew is. Did you really think that the jock would be able to hold out against this?

Clearly not. The plug came out with a soft 'pop', and as soon as it hit the floor, Daniel squatted down. Once more, the sheepdog's fluffy face was obscured by musky, marked ass, and Paul smirked as this time there were far less groans and whimpers of frustration or fear. Instead, there were soft moans, and the sound of a tongue getting to work.

There you are...lost to it...

Or at least, as close to lost as someone could be with a whole ass full of cum yet to eat. He chuckled, pulling his hand from his cock as John got to proper work, putting both feet to his uncle's cock and jerking it off with the pair of them good and hard. There's be seed flying before long, and it would be good for all of them.

"Dad?"

"Mmmph?"

"Your hand. My ass."

"Mmmph."

The walking dildo got behind him as Paul leaned against the table, his eyes straight ahead and his tail up. His cheeks spread easily for the older Doberman, and his already-gaping hole took the fist easily. He groaned in satisfaction, his cock bumping against the table as he felt that thick fist going deep right from the start.

"Mmm, yes..."

He rolled his hips back, riding his father's gut-punches as they worked in and out, in and out. His brothers were completely dominating their uncle, and he allowed himself to think of something else for a while.

Pleasure.

Just...pleasure.

The slow in and out thrusts of his father's arm were just what he needed now that he was so used to getting fucked by his family. Oh, sure, he fucked them more often than they fucked him, but he was still an equal-opportunity deviant. He liked it from all sides, and he was going to get it as often as he could.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

He growled under his breath as he savored the feeling of the popping stretch that hit him every time that his father's arm reached the elbow, groaning as he felt his cock wagging, throbbing, knot growing between his legs. Every time that it bounced up to hit his stomach, he felt the pre-cum left behind, and he could feel the table getting slicker every time that it swung down to hit that.

Squelch.

Pop.

Squelch.

Pop.

He was so used to this that his asshole produced a slime of sorts, almost like lube in its own way. He rocked his ass back against his father's hand time and time again, knowing that the big dog wanted to fuck him, wanted to ram his dick in, and more than that, knowing that there was still some shame there. For all that his family was completely mind-fucked, they weren't entirely at a loss for what they were doing.

They remembered.

He made sure that they remembered.

"Mmm, fucking your son's asshole with your fist. What would mom have said?" he teased.

"Mmmmph..."

"You wanted me to be straight. But here you are, being fucking gay."

"Nnngh..."

"And you want me to tell you to do it."

"Nnngh..."

"Go on, then."

POP! Out came the fist, down came the hands on his hips. He laughed as he rolled over, laying on his back over the table, looking up at his father. No happiness, no sadness, just pure lust ruled that face, showing just how far gone he was and how much he needed to be let loose like this. His cock, his arousal, was completely out of control now.

He spread his cheeks with his hands as he rested his ankles on the older Doberman's shoulders. That cock pressed against his hole, and then rammed in, knot and all.

"Fuuuuuck yes..."

Pop, pop, pop went that knot, slamming in and out of him as loud as could be. The popping sound, the flexing flesh, everything just slammed home how much he was enjoying himself. In, out, in, out, forcing his pucker to break down and open up, to puff up like a bitch-hole and more. He curled his toes, pinching his father's cheeks, and the older man groaned, turning his head from foot to foot and nudging them gently.

Heh...even though you're just a walking dildo...you still pick up on other things...

He could hear the grunting from the other side of the table and knew that they were getting into it, too. Taylor must have cum at least once from the footjobs going on, he imagined, and it was only going to get more intense from there. Soon enough, he imagined, his brothers would bend the priest over and run trains on his ass. In, out, in, out, just like his father's knot was doing to his asshole right then and there.

They're mine, he thought. All mine.

#

The next morning, Taylor was on his way back to the congregation, and Paul was alone with the broken members of his family again. Over the course of one night, all the cleaning that they'd done had been reversed. The carpets were stained with pre-cum and cum, the couches stank of sweat, and the beds were sticky and crusty with what was left behind. The brief camouflage of a civilized family rather than a bunch of horny hounds living in a giant doghouse was gone.

And now...it's mine. All of them...mine.

All kinds of debauchery were open to him now. He could do whatever he wanted to his father and brothers, and make them do whatever he wanted to anyone else, too, considering how addicted they were to what he could make them feel. He'd already pimped out Daniel to a few of the closeted gay studs on the team, and he could do that even further with some of the talent scouts that wanted to find hot guys and lord their future over them.

They'd pay for it, too, probably.

And the idea of having John going around, barefoot, offering pleasure to homeless bums for the simple joy of humiliating him...oh, that was another possibility. He would see his stoner brother lower even than him, and just keep pushing him down.

And then...his father...

Oh, there were a hundred ways that he could push the formerly-straight older man to be exposed as a good little bitch. Go down to the gay bars and put his cock through gloryholes, be a living dildo for the femboys there, have him walk out and be recognized...oh, fuck, there were so many hot ways to play with that.

And then...

Oh, what he could do to Uncle Taylor...

He stood on the front porch, bottomless, flagrantly jerking himself off as his uncle drove off, making sure that the sheepdog could see him in the rearview mirror. Maybe some of the neighbors would see the same thing, but he could give a hot shit what they would think of it. All that mattered was his own pleasure, these days.

Mmmm, when I come to visit...

He would be visiting the sheepdog at the church now, he knew that much. Just to see what happened. Just to push Taylor a bit further, to make sure that he was still feeling all the corruption that he'd been force-fed through the night. All the ass-fucking, all the footjobs, all the face-sitting - both ways - that the sheepdog had been forced to endure and enjoy: all of it would come back when Paul stepped into the congregation and showed his face.

And maybe more.

The idea of converting an entire congregation to a completely debauched lifestyle, turning them from 'faithful' to hedonistic, and leaving them completely lost to their own desires was a hot one. Maybe he'd even do it, one of these days.

"Alpha..."

Daniel. Right. He turned, his cock pointing at his oldest brother. The jock Doberman whimpered, getting down to his knees, his mouth open. He smirked, rubbing his cock over his brother's lips while slowly pushing him back inside.

There were still the responsibilities to family. He'd broken them, and now, he would use them. Over, and over, and over again, until there was nothing left but the utmost need for him and his cock.

"Living room, slut," he said.

"Yes, Alpha."

The other members of the family glared at Daniel, envious that the oldest brother had managed to snag the Alpha's attention first. The fact that they were envious now, wanting him rather than repulsed by him, told him that it had all worked out.

He had them.

They had him.

And there was no more hate. He could do what he wanted, pleasure for pleasure's sake.

Forever.