Downstairs

I hurried downstairs to see exactly what would happen. Heading into the kitchen, I ran right into my father. He was irates.

"Son," we have to talk.

"About what, daddy?" I asked.

"Daddy? What the hell is wrong with you?" He asked. "It's about the magazines I found in your room. The ones with men dressed... dressed up as women."

"It's what I like, dad." I said. "I think maybe you like it too..."

He stepped back. "No, of course not. And it's sick that you like it."

"But daddy," I said, as I stepped froward and caressed his head. "I think we're closer than you admit."

"What... what are you doing?" He said nervously.

"A new trick, I learned, daddy." I snapped my fingers. I moved back. "Move to me."

He moved.

"What the fuck was that? He asked."

"The first order," I said. "Ready for your next one?"

"I'm your father. Don't order me around."

"But daddy, I think you have to follow my orders," I said. I snapped my fingers and told him just what to do next.