Manners Maketh Man
After I “left”, Mark moved slow. Cautiously. For the first twenty minutes, he didn’t say a word. I could have tapped into his mind to see exactly what he was thinking, but the changes I’d made so far had taken enough mental energy that I decided to rest, and let the story unfold without interference.
Finally, he spoke up, testing the waters.
“Hey Dad,” he said, and Colin glanced over at him. “Can you get me a beer?”
I could tell that a part of Colin was delighted that his dweeby, insolent son was interested in something ‘manly’ like a beer, but…well, like I said. The man was a good parent.
“Of course not,” he responded. “You’re not old enough to…—“
“Please?” Mark interrupted, and Colin smiled.
“Of course!” he said without hesitation. “I would be love to get you a beer.”
I could almost hear the gears ticking inside Mark’s head.
His father returned with the beer.
Colin’s smile spoke volumes.
“I’m going to have a shower,” he said.
Mark bit his lip, and I could tell he wanted to reach out and pull the words back into his mouth. His father, however, replied with a smile.
“You’re right,” he said. “We should probably do more to save water.”
For the next half-hour, neither of them spoke a word. I watched as Mark drank his beer, his blush slowly fading, as Colin sat comfortably on his chair, and the two of them sat in silence.
The silence was broken not by either of the Vaughns, but by the doorbell ringing.
“That’ll be Hanna,” Colin said.
“I’ll get it.”
“Thank you, Mark!”
A quick probe told me that Hanna was their cleaner; she came in for four hours, once a month, and cleaned up. I briefly considered bringing her into the play, but decided against it. Instead, I made two slight tweaks—one to Hanna, to ensure that she wouldn’t be bothered by anything she observed…and one to the Vaughns, to tamper any embarrassment they might feel from having someone else in the room.
I didn’t want them holding back.
When Mark returned, his father had fetched himself a beer as well. The two resumed their silence, sipping their beers, until Mark had built up the courage to try again.
“Please, Dad,” he said, trying to sound casual, “…give me your shirt.”
“Of course,” he said. “I’m done with it for today—it stinks.”
Mark completely failed to hide his pleasure as his fit father removed his sweaty shirt, and threw it over to him. He clearly wanted nothing more than to bring it to his face, to inhale the scent of his dear dad, but he managed to hold back.
Hanna entered, completely unperturbed by the sight of her topless employer. Mark and Colin, as commanded, barely seemed to notice the presence of the middle-aged woman, feather duster in hand.
She had barely managed to begin dusting the room when Mark spoke up again.
“I’d like your pants as well.”
“Of course, son,” Colin answered, not even noticing his own change in attitude. “But I don’t know what you’re going to do with them. They’re not your size.”
He stepped out of his pants, and handed them to his son.
I couldn’t quite place the maid’s accent. Swedish?
I’d had a lot of fun in Sweden.
“What is it, Hanna?”
“Mister, I need to ask if you can move please, so I can dust the coffee table.”
“Of course, Hanna.”
“Thank you, Mister.”
The Vaughn men lapsed back into silence as Hanna continued dusting. A look of smug satisfaction rested on Mark’s face, and I could see his fingers twitching, as if resisting every urge in his body to sniff the sweaty clothes that his father had been wearing.
The maid left, and the silence continued. Finally, Mark spoke up.
“Please,” he said, letting the word hang in the air for almost half a minute before finishing the thought. “Please, can you come and sit next to me?”
“Sure thing,” Colin replied. “You’re on the more comfortable couch, after all.”
“Please,” Mark said, the moment his father sat down, “Let me smell your armpits.”
“On one condition,” Colin said, closing his eyes and raising his arms. “You have to give both sides equal attention, or I’ll feel off-balance all day.”
For the next several minutes, Mark was in heaven. His nose travelled all around his father’s torso, sniffing and smelling at the older man’s sweaty pits. Several times, Colin rearranged his torso to give his son easier access.
I could faintly detect the scent even from across the room; Mark must have been positively swimming in it. His cock was visibly straining through his pants; I could see his father shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he noticed. He was obeying his son’s requests, but the outcome was clearly making him uncomfortable.
Dipping into Colin’s mind, I could see that he was realizing a few things about his son for the first time. Because, of course, they were there for the first time.
Mark’s next request was whispered, so quiet that I could barely hear it.
“Please, Dad,” he said. “Get hard for me.”
“Very well,” he answered, his reservations from just a moment ago disappearing as the words left his mouth. “I do love the feeling of having a nice strong erection.”
It would have been child’s play for me to harden Colin’s cock from where I was sitting, but I was curious—what would the man do to obey his son’s request? Because he would obey it; my influence left him no choice.
At first, Colin just closed his eyes and willed his cock to get hard. I could see his eyes moving through his eyelids as he imagined sexual situations. From the looks of it, his efforts had some effect—I could see through his underpants that his cock had plumped up slightly, but not enough to be considered erect.
After a few minutes of this, he reached into his underpants and started toying with his cock. Mark watched, his eyes wide with lust, and I could tell that the boy wanted to reach down and play with himself as he watched his father.
It wasn’t long before Colin’s cock hardened, and he was able to remove his hand. I decided to throw Mark a bone, and mentally manipulated Colin to ensure that he would stay erect for the rest of the weekend—I didn’t want his natural heterosexuality getting in the way of our fun.
As soon as his father’s eyes opened, Mark had another order for his father.
“Please,” he said. “Let me play with it.”
“Not a problem,” Colin responded. “There’s nothing like the feeling of someone playing with your dick.”
In no time at all, Colin’s underpants were down and his son’s hand was wrapped around his erection. Mark hadn’t technically asked if he could also touch his father’s sweaty chest, but it was clear that Colin was too distracted to notice.
Colin had a good-sized cock. It was far from the largest I’d seen, but it stood proudly, thick and veiny. Eight inches, if I had to guess, but I hadn’t actually bothered to measure an erection in many years now. Fun at all sizes, you know?
When I’d transformed Mark, I’d shrunk his member down as well. His father’s cock was almost twice as large as his, both in width and girth.
Mark was certainly enjoying the throbbing member in his hand. As far as he was concerned, he’d been imagining this moment for ten years now, and it was finally happening. He stared at his father’s cock lovingly, as he pumped his hand up and down, watching the angry head pulsate as he did.
His father’s eyes were gently closed as Mark had his fun.
“Please Dad,” Mark said, his voice shaking slightly. “Cum for me.”
For the first time, Colin didn’t respond out loud. Instead, he simply began thrusting desperately.
Within the next few seconds, Mark’s face was doused in one, two, three spurts of his father’s seed, just as Hanna re-entered the room. She smiled vaguely at the father and son; to me, it was obvious that her mind was elsewhere, and she was barely paying attention to the scene in front of her.
I could tell that adrenaline was pumping through the teenage boy’s entire body. His Dad was going to go further than he’d ever reckoned, and now he was keen to see how far things could be pushed.
“Please,” he said, “lick your cum off my face.”
“Of course,” Colin replied, and leaned forward to do as his son asked. “It’s full of mmmf-mmf-mfmff-mfff.”
Turns out it’s hard to talk with a mouth full of your own cum.
“Make out with me as you do,” Mark added. “Please.”
“Nothing like a bit of father-son bonding,” Colin replied, and leaned in.
I watched with pleasure as the straight Dad and his gay son made out, Colin licking his own seed off of the teenager’s face. When the last drop was cleaned up, Colin sat back. I was delighted to notice his cock was throbbing—partially because of my earlier influence, of course, but perhaps there was something about the scenario that weirdly appealed to him.
Mark hadn’t yet gotten off, but it seemed that the boy was in no rush.
“Let’s watch the game,” he said, and despite the lack of ‘please’ in the sentence, Colin agreed without hesitation.
I wasn’t sat in a position to watch the TV, nor did I particularly care to—for the next hour and a half, I watched the Vaughns as they watched the football, or whichever sport was on that day. Hanna would occasionally pop in and out, and when the final touchdown (or whatever) was scored, Colin switched the game over to some kind of post-game show.
Two hours of game, and then two hours of discussing the game that just happened. I don’t think I’ll ever understand.
Mark was clearly less interested in the post-game discussion than he had been the actual game, and he surprised me with his next command.
“Please, Dad,” he said. “Ignore me for the rest of this show.”
“Sure thing,” Colin grunted in reply. “Kids need their space.”
If I hadn’t personally implanted every one of his desires, I’d have assumed that Mark had some kind of ‘being ignored’ fetish. That was off the table, so I was curious to see where he was going with his last order. As the commentators complained about and/or complimented the sports players and/or teams, Mark resumed sniffing his father’s torso and armpits, touching himself as he did. The kid really had a thing for the smell of sweat.
True to his word Colin completely ignored his son as the show continued. He didn’t react as Mark began jerking himself off, rubbing his face against his father’s chest. He didn’t say a word as his son reached down and started playing with his father’s hardness at the same time as his own. Impressively, he didn’t even move when Mark straddled him, rubbing his cock against his father’s sweaty chest, moaning and grunting all the while.
It wasn’t long until Mark returned the gift, shooting his seed all over his father’s impassive face.
Colin barely even blinked.
Mark sat back on the couch, panting, as Hanna popped her head in to say goodbye. The show ended, and Colin turned to his son.
“When do you think I should have a shower, Mark?”
“Maybe in the morning,” the teenage boy said with a grin. “How does that sound?”
As Colin opened his mouth to reply, a glob of cum to land on his tongue. I wonder what he would have said next, had Mark’s younger brother not suddenly entered the room.