Your Parents Get Home (5 Days Later)

For five days, you're put through harsh use, your heart breaking as again and again, you're put to use. Sucking and getting fucked by your twin sister multiple times a day, by your big brother as his payment for doing your twin sister's chores, by your former best friends. Servicing your former friends who deliver the newspaper and milk, paying with your mouth on their cocks.

You're **** to sleep on the floor beside your twin sister's bed each night, you're getting used to being hit, stepped on. This morning's hardly an exception, either, as you're kneeling in the living room, your face turned up. You're wearing the cum of your twin sister and your big brother, your former best friends, as well as two of your former friends, in your eyes and all over your face.

Allie is standing behind you, stroking your hair gently, affectionately, allowing you to know where she is as she stands fully dressed, one foot on one of your calves. You know she must be proud of you, and satisfied with your performance, as she's petting you, before her hand pulls away, “Stay, faggot.”

You freeze obediently, as she walks around you and opens the front door, and you hear your parents as they come home, suitcases being set down without acknowledging you, “Hey princess!”

“Welcome home, dad!” says Allie, and you can imagine them hugging the way they should. Then you hear the sound of pants unbuttoning and unzipping, as you kneel there, forbidden to move.

“Hey, baby!” you hear your mother saying as heavy footsteps approach you.

“Welcome home, mom!” replies Allie.

Please, no ... dad ... daddy ... please, nnnn! you think to yourself, but you can't speak and your thoughts are cut off by the scent of a strong masculine musk and then the touch of a thick crown to your lips, pushing into your mouth.

“Looks like the new faggot's been getting some major use, princess,” your father says above you as his hand comes down to your head, sliding his prick through your lips and you groan as it moves smoothly down your throat. Your throat swells visibly around your father's impressive cock, just as big as your twin sister's rod as you hear her stepping up to you.

“Yep!” she replies cheerfully, and your hand instinctively rises to her hips, grabbing her recently freed prick and starting to stroke her wood, “I take it you're feeling inclined to accept my offer, then?”

“All the oral I want?” your father asks, beginning to fuck your mouth.

Please, no ... not dad, too! your mind whines helplessly as you suck his cock like you've been trained and programmed to do, I don't want ... I don't want to stop! Wait, no! I shouldn't be ... I ... I shouldn't be ... denying how good he smells and how nice he tastes and feels in my mouth!

Your mind betrays you, spitting on social norms as your programming denies you the ability to even try to lie to yourself about how you feel about this moment. Soft velvet lips slide up and down your father's prick as you stroke your twin sister, while she answers, “Yep! You can have free use of its mouth, dad!”

“Oh thank god that means I don't ever have to suck that fucking thing ever again,” your mother says, slamming the door shut on the hope that your mother would object to her husband fucking someone else, at all, much less using her son.

“All right, princess. Deal. I accept this as your rental payment, and you can go through your brother's stuff. With Brian dead, you can take whatever you want and sell the rest on eBay or whatever,” your father says casually as he continues to fuck your throat.

Please, no ... not my room ... my stuff ... please, no! you think helplessly, bobbing your head in time with your father's thrusts and sucking his massive cock as you stroke your twin sister's rod lovingly. You squeeze your fingers tight around her prick for her pleasure while tightening your velvet lips on your father's cock for his own.

“We'll turn the room into a guestroom, or maybe Sam can move in, if she doesn't mind paying rent,” your father metaphorically nails your coffin shut as he nails your throat with his prick. Your throat bulges lewdly each time he thrusts, and you moan for his pleasure as it goes in, swallowing as the hilt reaches your lips, inhaling as he pulls out.

Please, dad ... dad ... daddy, please! Please don't ... don't ... don't pull out! you try to mentally beg him not to keep using you, but all you can think of us begging him not to pull out, to cum straight in your throat.

“Does the faggot have any uses for me?” your heart sinks as you hear your mother ask what good you are to her, “Or is it just another piece of furniture for me to clean?”

“It could probably eat your cunt if you want, mom, though as much of a mess as it is now you probably wouldn't want that!” laughs Allie, and you whine as your father's prick slides back and forth in your mouth, sawing his rod across your tongue as you feel him starting to pulse.

“You could always buy that strap-on you've always wanted, baby,” your father offers, and you twitch helplessly.

“Oh! Good idea! I finally have something to use it on! I already bought it, even!” your mother exclaims giddily, and you hear the sound of a suitcase zipper, “Where did I put it ...”

Fuck ... no ... no no no no ... no ... please mommy! Please mommy no! you think, but you hear more fabric shuffling, then your mother sighs softly and hums, then you hear her footsteps. Your free hand raises without thinking about it, finding your mother's hips, sliding in, finding the thick, flexible rubber prick. You start to slowly and sullenly stroke your mom's strap-on.

“That's it. Good little faggot,” your mother sounds pleased as your heart breaks realising no one will ever save you, or even deny themselves the chance to use you.