“Keep licking, faggot.”

As my reprogramming demands, I continue to lick my father's cock as he calls me a faggot again. My mind fills with sheer appreciation for him talking to me as I deserve to be spoken to. He looks down at me with a smug, contented sort of smile.

“Shirt off, faggot,” he orders, and I pull back from his cock and obediently take my shirt off, then return to licking his rod. He smiles, putting his hands on my shoulders and squeezing gently. I moan softly, vibrating his cock beneath my tongue.

“That's it, fag, worship my cock like the little whore you are,” Dad orders, and I kiss my way down the length of his shaft, smiling up at him lovingly. “Shorts off, too, faggot.” My hands move obediently. I don't know why he's stripping me down.

It doesn't matter, though. As I lick his cock up from base to crown, I shimmy my hips free of both shorts and boxer-briefs, until they drop around my toes. I keep my seat high enough that only my toes touch the floor, and only if I'm meaning to.

He moves one foot, using his shoe to pull them away and kick them behind him, as I kiss my way down his cock, lovingly. Maintaining eye contact with me, he moves his hands from my shoulders to my hair, stroking, keeping it out of my face.

“That's a good little faggot,” Dad praises, and I smile happily as I drag my tongue up his shaft, adoringly licking my Dad's cock without a thought in my brain. He continues to smile down at me, and I continue licking his cock, delighted to do it.

“So glad you decided to volunteer for your friend's project, faggot,” Dad says, looking down at me, “and so proud of you.” My cheeks warm at the praise, as I kiss my way down his cock, then lick a path up his shaft all the way back to the crown.

“Of course, Dad,” I tell him, before beginning to kiss my way down, punctuating each word with another kiss to his meat, as I work my way down to his balls. “You and Mom raised me to be a good friend, dependable, someone she could rely on.”

As I sit nude in my computer chair, worshipping my Dad's cock, my own is hard, too, but ignored. Dad simply smiles down at me as I stroke his cock with my tongue from hilt to tip, once more. “You're enjoying this, aren't you, you little faggot?”

“Of course I am, Dad,” I answer in earnest, my reprogramming making me see nothing unusual in licking my Dad's cock as I sit nude in my chair. “You're being super nice to me. You deserve for me to be worshipping your cock right now, Dad.”

“Damn straight I do, faggot,” he says confidently, “And when we're done, don't put clothes on. Faggots don't wear clothes in this house. It's a house rule.” I blink up at my Dad, but I don't hesitate to continue licking and kissing his massive cock.

“Oh,” I hum in answer, “Okay, Dad. I understand.” I moan lovingly, vibrating his cock a little bit as I press my tongue and my lips against him. For two hours, Dad manages to resist the temptation of my mouth working on his thick, hard length.

“You're going to make me cum, you little fucking faggot,” Dad warns me. My brain rewires, in response to the words, and Amy's immutable programming, to rationalise the understanding that I am causing my Dad to reach the point of orgasm.

Author's Note:
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