Mind control: the family reunion

Mark receives an unwelcome visit from his father, a perverted old garbage collector, but the old man has a new ability that makes things terrible for Mark.

Mark lived a quiet life in his beautiful two-story house, with a well-kept garden and a spacious kitchen that he loved to use to prepare meals for his son, Mike. At 35, Mark was an attractive man, with an athletic body maintained by morning runs, and had built a stable existence after escaping the hell of his childhood. Mike, his 14-year-old son, was a bright and cheerful boy who came home from school every day with lively stories. But Mark's past was dark: he had grown up in a smelly trailer with his father, Eddie, a fat and ugly man with a protruding belly and a face scarred by work in the sun, who worked as a garbage collector. Every day, after his shift, Eddie would arrive sweaty and filthy, smelling of rotting garbage, and force Mark to submit. He would throw him onto the trailer's makeshift bed, tear off his clothes, and shove his thick, dirty cock into his son's ass, fucking him brutally while grunting insults. 'You're mine, you little brat,' he'd say, ejaculating inside him mercilessly. Mark endured this for years until, at 18, he ran away and cut off all contact, vowing never to see that monster again.

That sunny morning, the doorbell rang through the house. Mark opened the door and froze. There was Eddie, even fatter, wearing his dirty garbage collector's uniform – an orange shirt and work pants with gray reflective stripes stained with dirt and garbage, heavy boots, and a nauseating smell of decay that filled the air. 'What are you doing here? Get out of my house now!' Mark yelled, his heart racing with anger and fear. But Eddie just smiled, his yellowed teeth showing, and said calmly, 'Shut up, kid.'

The words hit Mark like a lightning bolt. His mouth shut against his will, his body muscles tensing. He wanted to lunge forward, punch his father, but he couldn't move. 'That's right,' Eddie laughed, entering uninvited and closing the door. 'I've developed some interesting powers, son. Mind control. I can force you to do whatever I want. I'm back to punish you, you damn rebel. You abandoned me, but now you're going to pay.' Mark felt panic rising, the traumas returning like a flood – the nights of humiliation, the smell of sweat and garbage mixed with his father's semen. He wanted to scream, but his voice wouldn't come out.

Some time later, the sound of the front door announced Mike's arrival from school. The boy entered with his backpack on his back, excited: 'Hi, Dad! I had a good day...' But he stopped when he saw the stranger in the living room. Mark, motionless on the sofa at Eddie's command, felt horror overwhelm him. 'Mike, run! Get out of here!' he thought desperately, but his mouth remained sealed. Eddie stood up, extending his chubby hand. 'Hi, kid. I'm Eddie, your grandfather. Your father here told me all about you. I'll be living with you from now on.' Mike blinked, confused, but smiled politely. "Seriously? Cool!" Eddie glanced at Mark, a malicious smile he recognized perfectly – the same one from all those nights in the trailer, promising pain and domination. Mark wanted to vomit from helplessness.

"Mark, go to the kitchen and make lunch for us," Eddie ordered, his voice laden with supernatural authority. Mark stood up like a robot, his legs moving on their own, while inside he screamed. He knew what Eddie wanted to do to Mike – the same thing he'd done to him. In the kitchen, chopping vegetables and frying meat, Mark heard footsteps coming up the stairs. "Come on, grandson, show me your room. Let's get to know each other better," Eddie said, his voice echoing. Mike's room was upstairs, and soon the sounds began: Mike's forced laughter, followed by a muffled groan. Mark stopped stirring the pan, his heart pounding. He heard the creaking of the bed, low grunts, and the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh. 'No... please, no...', Mark thought, tears streaming down his face as he continued cooking, forced to obey. The smell of Eddie's garbage still lingered in the house, mixing with the aroma of the food, making everything unbearable.

Finally, lunch was ready. Mark wiped his hands on the cloth; Eddie had told him to only go to the room after finishing lunch. With trembling legs, he climbed the stairs, his stomach churning. Upon opening Mike's bedroom door, the scene hit him like a punch.

Mike was naked in his bed, his hands tied with Eddie's uniform belt to the headboard rails, his legs spread and bound at the ankles with his grandfather's dirty socks. An old tie – probably taken from Mark's closet – gagged his mouth, which also seemed to be already stuffed with a yellowish-white cloth that, to his horror, he realized was Eddie's dirty underwear muffling his sobs. His brown eyes, filled with terror and tears, met Mark's for a moment, pleading for help. Mike's thin, innocent body trembled, his pale skin marked by recent redness where Eddie had grabbed him. His virgin ass, now exposed and violated, twitched around Eddie's thick, veiny cock, which thrust in and out with brutal strokes.

Eddie, still in his half-open uniform, his fat belly swaying with every movement, fucked his grandson mercilessly. His thick, vein-covered cock glistened with improvised lubricant, probably spit. He leaned over the boy, sweat dripping from his ugly face onto Mike's chest, while he grunted obscenities: 'That's it, you little slut, take grandpa's cock. Your ass is as tight as your dad's was at your age. I'm going to fill you with cum every day, turn you into my personal toy. Moan for me, grandson, show me how you like being fucked like a whore.' He quickened the pace, his hairy balls slapping against Mike's ass, the wet sound echoing in the room. Mike writhed weakly, his small body arching, but the restraints held him captive, forcing him to receive every invading inch.

Mark stood paralyzed in the doorway, the world spinning. Humiliation consumed him like acid – watching his son, the boy he protected so tenderly, being destroyed by the same monster that had broken him. He felt the powerlessness like invisible chains, stronger than any mental command: he wanted to run, to rip Eddie off Mike, to punch him to death, but his body wouldn't respond. Hot tears streamed down his face as he watched his father's cock fuck Mike's ass, stretching it to the limit, the boy moaning muffledly in agony. 'Why can't I move?...', Mark screamed internally, his chest tight with guilt. He remembered himself in that position, years ago, and the cycle repeating itself made him feel dirty, complicit. Eddie came with a roar, spurting hot semen inside Mike, the excess running down the boy's thighs. 'Good boy, drink all of grandpa's milk.'

Then Eddie finally noticed Mark. He stopped, his penis still semi-hard inside Mike, and laughed loudly, mocking: 'Look who came to see the family reunion. I'm only just getting to know my grandson properly, son. He's a delight, better than you were. Go downstairs and wait for us at the table for lunch. We'll be done playing here soon.' The order forced Mark to turn his back, descending the stairs with weak legs, silent sobs choking him. At the table, the smell of the food now seemed like poison, and he waited, destroyed by the humiliation of not being able to save his son, knowing that this was only the beginning of Eddie's punishment.