“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” he asks, though I don’t think he’s really asking as much as observing. “I call her Samantha.” His eyes lock with mine. “Samantha needs you, son. Her fertile womb is aching to be filled.”

Alright, so, we’re going to need to work on his misogyny. I don’t think he believes a woman’s only duty is to have her belly stuffed with a baby like this is some Build-A-Baby Conversion Workshop, but his wording leaves me feeling icky.

“Are you ready, my son?” he asks in a raspy tone that makes my cock twitch. I give Miles a nod before wrapping my hand around my shaft and stroke it slowly. “Good boy. That’s my good boy. Go on, Darren. I want you to look at her large, voluptuous bosom. Doesn’t it seem right? Doesn’t it look natural? It’s the way God intended. Once you overcome this demon, you’re going to live a happy, productive life, right at Samantha’s side.”

“Like you do with your wife?” I ask, stroking faster. I know for a fact their relationship is already coming to a fizzling stop, but I also know if I can keep him talking, I’ll get to shoot my load while I look into his eyes, listening to his beautiful voice.

“Exactly,” he agrees, but there’s not much conviction to it.

“Tell me about it,” I whisper, stroking faster. “What does it feel like?” I let out a high-pitched moan, unable to stop myself. “Please? What does it feel like, sir?” I want to know what it feels like for him. For his mammoth cock to barrel into an entrance, burying his release deep inside. I’ve felt it once, but that wasbefore. Before he told me about his pills, breaking my heart in the process.

His eyes bulge, but he quickly recovers, leaning back on the sofa and turning to look me in the eyes. “Do you really want to know?”

“Please?” I whisper. My cock is leaking pre-cum like a faulty tap, and the more I stroke, the louder the sound of wet friction plays out around us. Miles’ eyes are locked on mine, watching me obsessively.

“It’s like entering the promised land,” he admits. “It’s like a warm wet hug.” Oh, God. He’s talking about fucking Mallory. Why the hell did I ask him that? Jesus. Abort! “When you finally feel it for yourself, it’s like all the love songs you’ve heard growing up suddenly make sense. It’s a feeling of completion you won’t find anywhere else. I want you to have that. I want you to have the world.” The faster I stroke, the more intense his gaze becomes. “You’re my shining star, Darren. That’s it. You’re doing so well, buddy. You can do this.”

I bite my lip, nodding rapidly, trying to stifle a moan. “Miles,” I whimper, my grip almost unbearable. “I’m close.”

“Good boy,” he praises. “Alright, you know what to do. Close your eyes. Picture her. Picture your future wife. The way she’s spread out on the bed, waiting for you to do your husbandly duty. She wants you to fill her womb, Darren.” His voice is raspier than before, taking on a tone I know all too well, but rarely hear when he isn’t drugged. “Give it to her. Breed her. Plant the seed and watch it grow.”

As usual, while I promise I’m picturing a woman’s vagina—not that there’s anything wrong with vaginas, obviously. They don’t repulse me or anything, they’re just not for me—what I’m really picturing is his cock. The way it curves to the left. How his foreskin covers the head, making it look like his cockhead is playing peek-a-boo. The way his pre-cum oozes out onto mytongue, providing me with little pops of protein, like a pre-workout boost.

“Gonna come,” I admit, closing my eyes. “Gonna be your good straight boy. I’m gonna come so hard for you, Father.”

His fingers feather through my hair as he pulls me closer, touching my forehead to his. “Don’t come for me, little lamb. Come for the Lord. Don’t be fruitful, just multiply. Her womb is empty, son. Fill it up.”

“I’m coming,” I whine, shooting jet after jet of semen onto the tablecloth that’s shielding me away from him. Two loads in less than an hour might seem like a lot to some, but for Miles, I could cum like an unending tropical storm. Just drizzle out my load until Father Daddy’s drenched.

His smile widens when he pulls away, turning around so I can clean myself off. “I’m proud of you, Darren. I’m so proud of you, son.”

Just as I always do, I caress my cock through the cloth, collecting all the sticky remnants of my ejaculate into a nice little wad of fabric for Miles to take home and wash. Once I’m squeaky clean again, I fold the drenched tablecloth and set it on his desk, taking a seat in his office chair. “You’re sure you don’t mind giving me a ride home?”

“You live across the street from me. It’s not like I’m driving ninety miles out the way.”

“You still would,” I tease. “Even if I lived in Louisiana or Arkansas, you’d drive me home every night if I asked you to.”

He winks at me, picking up a stack of papers from his desk and carrying them to his filing cabinet, giving me another view of his plump ass. “Are you ready, bud? We can stop and grab something to eat on the way.”

I follow him to his truck, and he pretends not to notice me staring at his ass each time he looks over his shoulder.

On the ride home, I sit in the middle seat of his truck, pressed right against him, the way I’ve always done. Neither of us acknowledge the sexual tension in the air. I don’t say a word as he rests his hand on my thigh, nor does he object when I place my hand on top and give a squeeze.

After dinner, when he pulls into my driveway rather than making me walk across the street from his house, he stares at me with a pensive look, lost in thought.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I think we should begin documenting your journey. I want to start filming our sessions and uploading them. That way, once we finally kick this demon, we’ll have built a following.” He cups my cheek—more affectionately than a straight man would, that’s for sure—and grins at me. “My lost little lamb, finally coming home. My big, bright star.” He leans in and kisses my forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

I nod. He’ll be seeing me a lot sooner than that, but it isn’t time to give up the game. Father Daddy may attempt to convert me in his office every few days, but if this were a race to the rainbow, the things we do together at night prove I’ve already won the game.

“Straight is great,” I say with a smirk.

“Straight is great,” he agrees.

We’ll see about that.

chapter three