“Suck, now, faggot.”

As my tongue grinds against his frenulum, I moan an affirmation. I kiss the crown, then slide my lips down around it, and then slide my mouth smoothly to the hilt. Dad sighs softly, savouring the view of his fag son's mouth encoming him.

“That's it, faggot,” Dad says warmly, one hand moving from the armrest to the top of my head, “Show me you're a faggot.” I moan lovingly, offering him pleasurable vibration, as I slide my mouth up his shaft, grinding my tongue around the tip.

“If you do well, I'll feed you,” Dad promises, “You'd like that, wouldn't you? Earning the privilege of drinking your Dad's milk?” I moan again, looking up and making eye as I suck his cock. It feels right, being on my knees, servicing him.

Mom steps into the doorframe between the kitchen and the living room, drying her hands on a towel, “How's Amy's little hypnotic suggestion working for you, dear? It worked wonders for me.”

“I didn't feel the remotest hesitation,” Dad replies, as I blink, listening, moving my mouth slowly up and down the length of his phallus, “I was immediately proud, the moment I walked in and saw him sucking your cock as he was supposed to.”

“Good. I even gave him the option of some free time before you got home, but he wanted to stay in the kitchen, sucking,” Mom replies, and Dad strokes my hair, “We did well, raising such a fine faggot, I think. It's nice to see him servicing you.”

I'm curious what they are talking about, but my brain is rewiring as I suck Dad's cock, telling me not to. I realise I simply don't need to know, don't have the privilege to ask. My place is on my knees, right now, working to earn milk from Dad.

“Well, I'm going to go read. Dinner's almost ready, but I don't like dinner this early,” Mom says, turning and walking out of the living room toward the spare room that we've always used as a personal miniature library of a few hundred books.

Dad's attention returns to me, looking down at me and smiling, “You know you're going to be doing this a lot from now on, and you won't always have the privilege of being acknowledged. You'll be ignored while you suck, a lot of the time.”

I moan softly in answer, not stopping my movements on Dad's cock. He strokes my hair gently, almost idly, watching me servicing him. I suck hard, lovingly grinding my tongue along his underside all the way up to the frenulum, pressing hard.

“That's it, there's a good little faggot,” Dad sighs in pleasure, leaning back and resting his head, ignoring me. His free hand reaches for the remote and turns the television on, and I hear a familiar newscaster's voice. Dad pats my cheek as I moan.

“Suck quietly, now, faggot, I'm watching television,” Dad commands, “I'll feed you if you continue to behave as you should for me.” I quickly silence myself, muting my voice entirely and simply sucking, restraining my desire to moan for my Dad.

He sighs in pleasure, one hand remaining on my head as my mouth slides up and down his phallic length, my lips taut and stinging a little. I'll get used to it, but I'm not adapted to having something so big in my mouth, and hilt deep in my throat.

Still, I'm proud that I can get my mouth to Dad's hilt without choking on it. I expected to have a gag reflex, but apparently, I don't. Fortunate for me, since I'm intended to be a cum-fed faggot, which means sucking an awful lot of cock every day!

Author's Note:
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