Taylor Ambreggio stood looking out the window of the inn, that had a rather nice view of the village...if you were into that sort of thing. Insufficient to alleviate his mood, given he and his Dad were traveling to Florida and their car had suddenly and inexplicably broken down as they had been driving through this rather small and nondescript village. It came to rest just outside, of all things, a car repair shop (one of those one-man home/work tin-metal buildings that stood next to the man's house things). The man had come out, a large and rather handsome, muscled stud that gave Taylor a tingle in his dingle to look at, rubbing his oily hands on a stained rag. "You have a problem?" he had asked his Dad as Taylor had sat in the passenger seat trying to get a better look at the man's basket without being caught at it.
He didn't listen to their exchange except that Dad came back to the car and said, "Get your bags out, the car is going to be fixed by him. It'll take a couple of days."
"Aw, Jeez, Dad!" Taylor had moaned. "Can't we get it done faster?" As a gay man in the closet bound for South Beach, Florida, a haven known for party boys and plenty of gay men, this loss of two of their eight vacation days was a major loss. "Or maybe catch a bus to Florida and pick up the car on the way back, or something?"
Tomas Ambreggio looked at his son and a bit of a smile touched his face. Large, clear beige-tone skinned, a ruggedly handsome man only a bare seventeen years older than his eighteen-year-old son, he understood his son's eagerness well. "Sorry, son, but I don't know how much it's going to cost to fix it. We might have to turn around and go home, I hope not." he added quickly as his son's face wrinkled in despair. "But let's give it the two days and if it's still not fixed by then, I'll get you a bus ticket to Florida while I stay here and bring the car down. Okay?"
Taylor was relieved by this, South Beach alone would be better than with his dad hanging around a lot. "Okay, Dad."
"Is there a hotel or bed-and-breakfast here where we can stay?" Dad asked the mechanic.
"The Daimon Inn is the second building on the right." the man had gestured down the road back the way they had come. The move accentuated the large biceps on the black-haired man, the lower arm decorated with a lush bounty of jet-black strands wrapping it beautifully.
"Diamond Inn, right." Tomas had answered as he pulled out Taylor's bag and handed it to Taylor.
"Not Diamond, Daimon." the man said it like "Day-mon" with a hint of an "I" after the "Y" sound. "This is Daimonstown, you see."
"Ah." Tomas said as the man gave a kind of curiously evil grin at his discomfiture. "Of course, Daimon Inn. Let's go, Son. Hope they have a dining room. I could use a fill-up on that, myself."
An hour later, Taylor was looking out over the village as the summer sun was sinking on the small village. A curve in the road gave him a view of most of the buildings and he watched the men walking around and visiting the stores or each other. Seemed like a lot of strong, handsome men lived here. Not a fatty or a troll in the bunch!
No women yet he had seen, neither, nor a child to be seen, either. He was wondering at this when his father came out of the bathroom. "Okay, Son, your turn at the shower." he said.
Taylor looked over and his father's body with only a towel wrapping him from just below his navel to mid-thigh. God, why couldn't he have been born with a body like his Dad!
His father was six foot one, large-shouldered, lightly tan-colored shining skin (natural glow, not oiled) with muscles that rippled when he moved and hair that adorned rather than obscured the magnificent frame before him. He couldn't blame his mother, a sixteen-year-old airhead when she and Dad had made him, for falling for this hunkalicious stud standing near-naked before him! If it hadn't been his Dad.... He looked at the two beds this room boasted, it would be so easy to push these two together and wrap his younger, slender-frame body around that hunk of male majesty....
His body was pitching a tent in his pants and Dad saw it but just smiled. "Better get in there. I need to get ready for bed and this towel is about to come off."
Taylor flushed and scooted around his father. He longed to linger and watch that white cover fly off to reveal those marvelously taut buttocks, that fatherly dong however fat and long it must be....but he went on in and closed it, breathing a little heavy.
His mother's family were tall and slender of frame. He had had the bad luck to inherit most of his genes from her. Mom wasn't a bad woman, but she hadn't been and still wasn't ready to raise a child, and probably never would be. His life had been himself and his father. Disappointing Dad was the last thing he wanted to do, but his hormones were raging and his cock pointed resolutely toward the male of the human species as potential mates, dropping limp as he aimed it at women.
Tomas shook his head as his son closed the door. He shouldn't have done that, exposing his body to his own son like that. Taylor was gay, he hadn't told his father yet, but those eyes told him volumes by where they looked and how. He'd noticed his son drinking in the sight of that studly mechanic, what was his name? Joffrey, that was it, the name over the garage door, whether first or last name he wasn't sure. The man had answered to just "Joffrey" and it might be a nickname. His son's eyes had practically attacked the man as he had stared at the jeans below the paid shirt licking his lips, and Tomas couldn't blame him, the man was a hunk.
Tomas licked his own lips and felt his cock rising up. Hell with it! He had dawdled with men as well as women most of his life, his cock didn't care about the plumbing of the other man and if he liked the man, he'd chow down or present his buttocks eagerly as any limp-wristed queen. Not that his son was that. He wished his son would reveal himself so he could give the words he longed to tell him.
This vacation was meant to do that, Tomas hadn't picked South Beach at random. Give his son a chance to hook up a few times and the boy would surely gain the courage to come out to him. Meanwhile, he had to stay where he was, even those two beds looked like they were free to be pushed together at any time....
He was in his bed and covered when his son came out, demurely dressed in a pair of boxers over his briefs. Double-covered. The boy must have felt too exposed with just the rather tiny pair of briefs he had put on, purple with black waistband and abbreviated at the sides to expose more of the sides of his thighs.
Taylor got in bed and the lights had gone out when Taylor cleared his throat and said, "Dad?"
"Yes, Son."
"Did you notice this village?"
"What about it?"
"I only saw men, no women or children. Nor any old people either. And the men were all, well...."
"Good-looking?"
"Yeah."
"I saw that." Tomas admitted. "Probably just a coincidence of some kind. Maybe a festival of some kind had the men's families away for some reason. We'll look again in the morning, and we'll find some women and kids, I'm sure."
"Yeah." Taylor agreed. "Good night."
"Good night, Son." Tomas said. "I love you."
"I love you, too, Dad."
They lay back and closed their eyes. Neither noticed the form outside their second-story window peering in. Human, large, with eyes that seemed to glow of their own accord. Perhaps that was the light of some other source being caught and reflected back in some way...and perhaps not. Beyond that, he was a black figure that seemed to stand upon nothing, looking at the pair. As he looked, he smiled and the teeth, too, glowed, larger than they should be. In this light, the blackness showed the ears were larger, too, and came to a point. Perhaps there were a pair of small horns on the forehead, too, perhaps not. He peered in and then the form dissolved into nothingness, not like mist and not like smoke, more like fog hovers in the air and then as the day comes on, it vanishes all over and is lighter and lighter and then it is gone with nothing to show it had been there. Inside the room, the two sleeping men moved, jerked, began to writhe.
Taylor's dreams began, of course, with him walking on the beach in Florida. He had no real images of South Beach to call upon, so his imagination came up with a sunny tropical beach, both that of an isolated island and a beach lined with large, exotic hotels. The beach itself seemed to morph from moment to moment, it would be covered almost beach towel to beach towel with endless, gloriously buffed men of all colors, stripes and tones, all with massive bulges contained in delightfully skimpy swimsuits, exposing most of their cocks' outlines for all to see. He would see a man, and suddenly that man was walking alongside him, walking and talking with him, catching his arm and pulling him to the broad, powerful chest to kiss him, and Taylor felt himself falling! Falling with the muscled body atop him and they landed on the sand as light as a bubble and Taylor looked at the man and it was that mechanic, and they were both naked and the man's cock was a large, throbbing log of fire on his inner thigh and the man moved and the cock slid down and over Taylor's testicles and as it touched his anus, Taylor moaned in pleasure, the mechanic smiled and his face changed.
Into his father. Tomas was suddenly in his son's dream as the husky male lover, he pushed his cock into his son's ass and Taylor moaned, "Oh, Dad, Jesus, yes, Dad, yes, fuck me, Dad, fuck me!"
"My son, my gentle, loving son." Tomas crooned as his cock slid in and out.
"Oh, God, Dad, more, more!"
"Hey!" a strange voice called at him, and it embodied every sarcastic mean word of every bully Taylor had ever endured in his life. He turned his head as he was fucked by his father and saw the men, a line of them, every bully he'd ever known grown up and grinning at him, watching him be fucked by his father.
"Look at that faggot!" one of them sneered.
"Figures he'd want to be fucked by his own father!" another agreed. "All fags are perverts! Freaking pervert fag!" he called at Taylor.
"Freak!"
"Weirdo!"
"Fag, fag, fag!"
Taylor moaned and looked at his father and the expression on it was not loving. His father was looking at him in horror! "Dad?" he asked.
"You're a faggot, Son?" his father said and he was suddenly fully dressed and looking down from his standing position at his naked, supine form beneath. "You're a fag?"
"Dad, I'm! I'm sorry!" Taylor begged as his father backed away in horror! "Dad, Daddy, please!"
"I can't have a son who's a faggot!" his father said as he turned and walked away.
Taylor tried to get up but he found his arms and legs were like lead, he couldn't move but only slowly, painfully.
And then there was another atop him and this was a man and yet not a man. He was tawny-reddish-skinned, larger than a man and muscled beyond any reasonable muscle on any man save maybe a competitive muscle-builder who had pumped up for a contest. His eyes were glowing and his teeth were long and Taylor saw that they were sharp-tipped, the ears were longer and pointed at the top, the skin was giving off an aroma that smelled like old and evil fire. But for this, the man was amazingly handsome in a Rudolf Valentino sort of way, all dark simmering maleness bubbling over with hormones and sexual musk and lust.
The bullies were continuing to mock Taylor but their voices were muted and muttered like the sound of a rough winter wind that bites the skin and scalds the trees of their leaves and wipes the glory of color away under a coat of cold, white ice.
His world was muted but for himself and the man, nay, he was a demon, how could Taylor not have seen that before. Dusky-red, sharp teeth, evil grin, even his muscled handsome body and face could not cover this basic fact, Taylor had been caught by a demon.
He moaned as the huge demonic shaft plunged into him. He had been opened up somewhat by his "father" but the demon's cock was so much larger and it nearly burned his anal flesh as it was pushed into him.
He hissed as long as he could, but the pain was such he couldn't endure it more and he screamed! Long and loud he screamed, then drew breath and screamed again, and the demon hammered away at him with lust and fury and no love and gentleness at all, and every plunge into him was agony and every withdrawal was fire, and he screamed and screamed and to his horror he found his body was turning this pain into a form of desire, his orgasm was building up in him and he moaned instead of screaming, "Oh no, no, please no, not this way, not this way!"
And he was assailed by his climax and he groaned and he squirted and the demon laughed and as he laughed, he turned it into a howl of demonic glory of victory and hot sperm flooded into Taylor's bowels, he was being filled with demon spunk and it flowed into him and it was more and more and more and he felt his body expanding like a balloon and he gave a final yell as his body exploded outwards in all directions in blood and torn flesh and burnt organs....
He yelled as he sat up in bed awake, panting, covered with sweat. Looked over at his father....
Tomas was standing on a plain of low-growing grasses and a few scattered trees, none of which blocked the wind which was blowing strongly around him. The winds were loud and as he stood and viewed the scene, the winds began to become the sound of voices around him and he recognized them one by one, the women he had bedded and the men he had loved. Accusing him, threatening him, and mourning his betrayal of them, every one. "What did I do? What did I do?" he yelled again and again.
"You know what you did." one voice said. It was male and very young, the voice of Barry, the young best friend, he and Barry had a sleepover when thirteen and they had lain in bed and slowly they had touched each other in shy curiosity until they had breached the boundaries of their upbringing and they stripped off their briefs and fondled each other's manhood and then Barry had moved down to suck his cock and he had moaned and moved to return the favor. "You did it, you seduced me, you drove me to what I did!" the voice moaned. Barry had turned to drugs and when he was twenty-two had been found dead in a cheap hotel room, surrounded by drug paraphernalia and gay magazines that looked like had been fished out of a trash can. He felt again the stab of guilt he had felt when he had heard that so many years ago.
"I'm sorry!" Tomas called out to Barry. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that would happen, I loved you, Barry!"
"You loved me, too." another voice, female, said. He knew the voice well.
"Sandra." he said to Taylor's mother, who was sixteen again and innocent and virginal. She had given Tomas her virginity and that session or the ones that came soon after had generated the son that she had borne and tried to raise then had run off, leaving Taylor in Tomas' hands and he hadn't heard from her for six more years, about the time of Barry's death, she had returned to the son who didn't remember her and had cried when she had tried to take him and she had flinched at this and cried and ran away despite Tomas begging her to come back and try, at least try, to be a mother to their son. She had returned when Taylor was twelve, and been in his life, but the bond was never formed. She remained a relative stranger to their son.
"I tried to help you, Sandra!" he cried out. "I tried!"
"You betrayed me!" she said and the wind moved on.
Tomas heard another sound behind him and he turned and as he turned, he found he was nude and the man facing him was nude. Tall, muscled, dark-red-skinned, with a dong the size of Kentucky! "Hello, Tomas." said the figure. "You belong to me, now!"
"I what?" Tomas said.
"You are mine. Hear the voices of the ones you have wronged, your soul is bound for hell and I am here to collect a bit of the payment ahead of time. You belong to me."
Tomas turned to run and as he did, a heavy clawed hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him back around. As he turned, he was punched in the stomach, hard, he doubled over and was spun on around and thrown to the ground, he landed on his knees and hands, gasping and groaning.
The huge hands grabbed his waist at either side and he knew what was coming. "No, no, not that, I can't, AH-HOOOOOOGHHHH!" Tomas was impaled with a huge cock, thick, throbbing, and cold as ice. It bit into his skin and frosted it as it slid into him, his bowels churning and freezing.
"Please, please, let me go, let me go!"
"You don't like this?" the voice taunted him. "I can always take your son instead. Shall I do that?"
"No, no!"
"Then shut up and accept your fate!" The huge dong slid into him deep and then the demon fucked him mercilessly and the pain built and built and built into agony and beyond!
Tomas could bear it no more. "Oh, stop, stop, take my son, take my son!"
"I shall." the demon said and then gave a keen and Tomas' ass was filled with sperm that filled him to the brim and beyond, the demon pulled out and spunk flew out of Tomas' ass and the demon rose as the spunk flowed from his victim's butt. "Taylor now belongs to me."
The demon strode away and Tomas shrieked at the form, "No, no, wait, I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it, take me, take meeeee!"
Tomas sat up in bed with his mouth continued to shriek out that last syllable on and on, "EEEEEEEE!"
He was covered in sweat and panting and his son, who had rose in bed screaming himself, looked at him as he looked at his son in shame and misery. "Taylor? Taylor?"
"Dad?"
"Son, are you...are you?" he couldn't complete the sentence.
"Had a bad nightmare." Taylor said. "Really bad."
"Me, too." Tomas agreed, sheepishly. A demon had raped him until he had offered his son in his agony to make it stop. "We should get back to sleep."
Taylor moved and then he felt it. His ass was sticky. He felt down there and found a heavy sticky fluid in his hand. He turned on the light and it was pearl-colored and thick as dense mud. "What the hell happened?"
Tomas felt his own ass, the stickiness there and he did the same as his son, his hand showed him the same fluid. "I don't know, Son." he said. "I can't understand this."
"God, there's more of it." Taylor groaned. "Did we get drugged and raped in our sleep?"
"Maybe." Tomas said. He looked at the clock. "Two a.m." he said. "You should try to sleep again. We can try to figure this out tomorrow."
"Yeah." Taylor did and Tomas stood vigil over his son, remorseful that, even in his nightmare, he had betrayed his son to a demon for selfish self-preservation. No father should ever make that choice, ever!
Taylor slept, then stirred, moved, moaned. Tomas tried to wake him but shaking him didn't help at all. Only after a time, did Taylor again yell out and cried in his pain and his father held him as he sobbed that this must be Hell, they must be in Hell now.
Tomas wanted to deny it, but he couldn't. Together, awake, holding each other like frightened infants in a tornado while winds screamed around them, they awaited the morning to come. The wait took forever, but finally the light of the sun returned to their room, casting a yellow square of clean light into the room.
Tomas examined his son's evidence from his ass and the spunk was still there, as it was in his own ass. It still dripped and flowed like freshly-spooged jizz in his fingers, still warm with the heat of its birth.
Tomas knew they had to do something. He just didn't know what.
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