BETCHA CAN'T EAT JUST ONE

by webb025@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: This is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the

legal age to read this, or are offended by the idea of male-male

sex or mind control, DO NOT read further.

Hi, I'm Travis, I'm 18. My family consists of me, my younger

brother Benjy, 16, and my dad, who's 36. My mother ran off years

ago, when I was three, and from what I know now I don't blame her

one bit. We're what you would call white trash, and we do fit that

description pretty well. I dropped out of school last year, and

have a job as a mechanic at a local garage. It doesn't pay enough,

so I also work a fast food job. I'm not stupid, I just couldn't

take any more of what was going down at school. Benjy is still in

school, barely, but he doesn't put too much effort into it, and

with all his running around, causing trouble, and getting F's, I

figure he'll be out of there before the school year ends. My dad

works construction, when hecan get work. As you could probably

guess, we don't live in a nice big house in the good part of town.

We're in a trailer park across the tracks.

Our family is not exactly what you would call good looking. We're

not too tall, I'm the tallest at 5'9". But what we lack in height

we make up in width. We've got really broad shoulders and big

builds, and since Benjy works evenings at a local gym, so we can

get in free, he and I are really strong and stay in shape. We also

have big hands and feet, and we're big in other ways too. But as

to looks -- well, I look like a younger version of my Dad, and

my nickname when I was in school was Trog, short for "troglodyte".

Still, I got respect then, both because I could not be knocked

over on the football defensive line, and I also have a pretty

dominant personality. Actually, all three of us do. And that's a

problem in a small household. Too much testosterone.

Also, Benjy and I are both gay. We kept it a secret at school,

but I figure there must be something to the heredity thing, since

we weren't raised that way for sure. And Benjy and I both like

older guys. While I was a sophomore in high school, I fantasized

about punking a senior, making him do whatever I said, riding him

around like a horse, humiliating him in front of his friends.

Benjy's tastes run even older; his biggest dream is to make a

bitch out of his good-looking English teacher, who is also his

soccer coach, maybe change him into his personal polo pony. But

even though Benjy has a much cuter face than me, with straw-blond

hair that hangs over his eyes -- although he's got the same solid

body I do -- his chances of snaring that totally straight English

teacher are pretty much zero.

On the other hand, Dad is DEFINITELY not gay. He has the same

dominant attitude Benjy and I have, but he likes to take it out

on women. I've heard that even when Mom was still around, Dad was

regularly intimidating other women into having really rough sex

with him. Mom kind of suspected it, I heard, but when he got to

the point where he was not even hiding it at all, she walked out.

Dad got all angry, then depressed, and he stopped keeping in

shape. He now weighs close to 300 pounds, and it sure ain't all

muscle. When he's not working, he's usually sitting around

drinking beer and watching either sports or truly kinky and

violent porno videos. It's not a pretty sight.

I remember the day our luck began to change. I had just finished

my shift at the drive-through window of the fast-food restaurant,

which is in the nice part of town across the street from the

university. Since my sex life was just fantasy at that point, to

make it seem more real I kept a small jar of "special sauce" I

saved from my home jack-off sessions near the window. When a

particularly good-looking college jock drove through, I would

add the special sauce to his sandwich out of his sight, so I

could know that my protein would become part of his body without

him being aware of it. Sad, yes, but it was as close as I was

going to get to a blow job from a cute college guy from across

the tracks.

I got home to find Dad on the phone with our well-off Uncle Mark

from northern Michigan. I never understood how Mark made his

money, since his job was janitor of a lab that studied substance

addiction. There were rumors that he ran a meth lab in a large

shed on his property, which I thought was pretty funny, I mean

working during the day in a lab where they're trying to cure

addiction, while working other hours in a home lab making an

addictive substance.

Around the same time as I got home, Benjy arrived from his job

at the gym. Dad hung up from his conversation with Mark. He had

interesting news. So did Benjy.

First, Dad's news. Uncle Mark wanted us to try something out for

him. The lab where he worked was investigating addiction

ubstitution, where someone addicted to a dangerous or illegal

substance could have his addiction redirected to something

relatively harmless, and then later with therapy the addiction

could be slowly eliminated. Dad's description was a bit confusing,

but evidently the lab had come out with a liquid that, when bound

with another substance and eaten by someone, would reconfigure

that person's pleasure receptors so they would forget their

previous addiction, and replace it with one to the new substance.

When Mark heard about this, he stole a bottle from the lab safe

and shipped it to us. He was afraid to try it himself for fear

of losing his job. He wanted to know the results as soon as we

found a way to test the stuff.

Benjy's news: During his shift at the gym, he had spotted a new

family that worked out together, a man, wife, and their college

student son. They were well-dressed and arrived in an expensive

car. Benjy looked the family up in the gym's membership files,

and jotted down their address and vital statistics. Of course

Benjy was most interested in the father, who was 37, dark-haired,

tall, and nicely toned but not overbuilt like us. Benjy was

pretty sure I would go big-time for the son, who was 20, dirty

blond hair, even taller than his dad, equally well toned, and

very cute. And he was ABSOLUTELY sure our Dad would go for the

wife, who was blonde, long-limbed, and drop-dead gorgeous.

Of course I had "news" too, which I kept to myself. A

particularly great-looking college senior basketball player, so

tall he barely fit in the driver's seat of his car and flashing

an impish grin, had earned today's portion of my "special sauce".

And suddenly all three pieces of news combined in my mind to

form the perfect plan for improving our sex lives.

********************

When the package arrived from Mark, it came with a set of notes

Mark had put together from weeks of casual conversations with

the researchers. They had discovered that the sticky substance

could be "cooked" with added flavoring into credible gumdrop-

like candies. They also explained how to mix in the substitute

addictive material, and how much. We went shopping for what we

needed.

Fortunately, all three of us seem to produce huge loads when we

jerk off. From this, plus the lab substance and some flavoring,

we cooked up three food-coloring-coded gumdrops, or I suppose

you could call them "cumdrops", that had sort of a homemade look

but seemed edible.

Benjy then brought them to the gym for his next few shifts.

Finally, when the family showed up again, he was very helpful

and attentive to them. When they went to the water cooler to

hydrate, Benjy asked them to do him a favor. His "mother" had

just produced these new sugar-free, fat-free gumdrops, and he

wanted them to just try one and tell him what they thought. He

made sure to give the father the green one, the son the red one,

and the mother the yellow one as we had planned. Each of them

chewed and swallowed the drop. At first, there wasn't anything

good or bad to notice about the simple flavor we had put in the

drops, so they just politely said the drops tasted fine. But by

the time they went back to their workouts, the pleasure was

beginning to hit them. They seemed a little unsteady when it

was time to leave, but they were all wearing happy expressions.

Benjy worried a bit about letting them drive home in that

condition, but couldn't say anything. They went home.

Mark's notes indicated that a second dose was needed to

finalize the addiction, so we made another batch of three drops.

We didn't have long to wait; the NEXT evening the family was

back at the gym. And the first thing they did was ask Benjy if

he had more drops. He happily obliged with the new drops, still

being careful that the right-colored drop went to the right

person.

The next night was Benjy's night off, but we got the result we

wanted. The family went back to the gym, and when Benjy wasn't

there, asked the attendant on duty for his phone number. It was

the father who called, and pointedly asked Benjy if he had any

more gumdrops. Benjy told him maybe he had some there at home.

The father asked for our address, which Benjy gave him. Then

we sat back and waited for the fun.

The Lexus pulled into our driveway, and parked behind Dad's

rusting pickup. All three members of the family emerged from

the car and came to our door. They tried to look friendly and

not too shocked at the condition of the neighborhood, but we

could sense a touch of panic behind their smiling faces. Benjy

met them at the door and invited them in.

After some small talk, from which we found out that the father,

John, was a stockbroker; the son, Greg, was a junior at the

university, near the top of his class, and a star on the track

team; and the wife, Liza, had her own home designing business,

the topic quickly changed to gumdrops. Benjy told them he had

looked but couldn't find any, and the suppressed panic in the

three of them emerged as full-out panic. Then, on cue, Dad said

he understood why they might really want the drops, but he

thought he could solve their problem some other way. He went to

the refrigerator, pulled out three color-coded shot glasses,

each containing a sticky white substance, and handed each one

to the appropriate person. "I think these will solve your

problem," he said.

The three of them stared dubiously at the shot glasses, but

seemingly having no choice, downed our seed. And almost

immediately they discovered their urges satisfied, their

happiness restored. They thanked us over and over, and then

asked what the milky substance was. And Dad told them the

truth: "It's our cum. John, you had Benjy's cum; Greg, you

had his brother Travis's. And lovely Liza, that was MY

babymaker pudding that cured that longing ache in your belly.

I'm afraid those 'cumdrops' seem to have been addictive!" He

gave out a snorty sort of laugh. "But from now on, you're

going to have to get the stuff directly from the source," he

said, rubbing the obscenely large bulge in his shorts.

Amid their pleasure buzz, the family was horrified when the

news sank in. John sputtered "How... how did you do this?

I'll report you to the police! I'll hurt you bad! You'll be

sorry you ever met us when I'm through with you!"

"I don't think so, John," said Dad. "I don't think you want

to do ANYTHING to make us unhappy. Tomorrow, you're going to

want more of what we've got. And if you don't get it tomorrow,

then the next day you're going to be in so much pain, you're

going to NEED it so badly you'll feel like you'll die if you

don't get it. I think you've really got to find ways to make

us happy and excited, 'cause that's the only way we can get

it up and give you what you NEED!"

"But... but... How can Greg and I 'excite' your sons? I...

I'm not gay, and my son's not gay either. And my wife loves

me..."

"What do I care? Soon you won't even be worrying about your

own sexual desires, they'll be totally overcome by your

growing lust for our fuck juice. When you please us enough

to get us to cum for you, it will give you even more pleasure

than you ever got from regular sex with ANYONE! Don't worry,

as long as you make us happy, we won't hold back our pleasure

pudding from you guys.

"By the way, the amount of cum we gave you in those shot

glasses was only half of what you need to satisfy your daily

craving. The initial good feeling you got will now be wearing

off. You should be starting to feel the edges of that

absolute need again." One look at the three of them, and we

knew this was true. "We can provide the other half of what

you need, but only 'direct from the spigot'. And don't worry,

all three of us turn out big enough loads that you'll get a

special bonus buzz out of us today. But we need the proper

motivation.

"So John, I think you'd better spend the rest of the evening

getting to know Benjy better. Greg, I think you should really

learn everything Travis likes tonight. And Liza, you're

coming into my bedroom for a few quick lessons. And by the

way, girl, you're going to have to wear something much

sluttier than that sweat suit to really get my juices

flowing." He grabbed her arm and took her into his room. John

started to intervene, but Benjy grabbed his arm and he

thought better of it.

Meanwhile, Greg looked down at me. In another day or so the

tall, rich, educated track star would be groveling on his

knees in front of the short, bulky white trash high school

dropout, but for now it was just time to assess the property.

"Greg, why don't you strip to your underwear," I suggested

politely, but he knew it was an order, and instinctively

knew the consequences of disobedience. He was going through

a mini-withdrawal, and guessed how bad a full one would be.

As he stripped, what I saw was even better than I expected.

I think of a track star as having well-muscled legs, and he

had those. But evidently he must have participated in other

track and field events, because he had nicely defined biceps

and pecs as well. And he was largely smooth except for a

"treasure trail" leading into his boxers. I felt him up and

down, pushing and prodding as if I were examining a piece of

meat. Which, actually, is sort of what I was doing. "Gotta

give you props, Benjy," I said. "Couldn't have picked a

better one myself. You knooooow what I like!"

But Benjy was already circling John. The normally mature,

sophisticated man looked openly afraid of what plans my

short, well-muscled 16-year-old brother had in store for

him. "Gee, Mr. Durrell, I think you and me are gonna be

great pals," said Benjy, sounding like a mocking little

kid. "I'm on duty at the gym tomorrow night, so if you NEED

me, I'll have to meet you at your office tomorrow afternoon.

I already know where you work, it's in your file at the gym."

Now John looked terrified. "Uhh... Benjy... I don't think

that's such a good idea... I don't think you should come to

my office..."

Benjy snort-laughed (he gets it from Dad). With his hands

on his hips, he said, "Well, I think I'll just show up

anyway. And I'll bet that by tomorrow afternoon, you'll be

REAL glad I did decide to show up." Meanwhile, we all heard

whimpers and shrieks coming from Dad's room. John might

have responded if he hadn't been so focused on his own

immediate problems.

Benjy grabbed at John's hand. "Wow, Mr. Durrell, you're way

taller than me, but look, my hands are bigger than yours!"

He held John's hand palm-to-palm, and it was true. He held

his running shoes next to John's. "And look, my feet are at

least a couple of sizes bigger than yours!" A few checks of

my own verified that this was also true between me and Greg,

too. Actually, the Durrells weren't small; it was our hands

and feet that were too big, while the Durrells' were normal-

sized.

Benjy said, "Hmm, wonder if what they say about size is

true. Mr. Durrell, pull out your cock and get it hard." John

hesitated a moment, then realized he had no choice and

pulled out his cock. "And you take off those boxers and do

the same," I instructed Greg, and he immediately obeyed.

Greg was able to get hard with a few strokes. But John was

obviously too scared of the whole situation and could not

get hard no matter how he tried. "Aww, don't worry, Mr.

Durrell, you can show me tomorrow, at the office," said

Benjy. That remark did not help John with his nervousness

at all!

Greg, though, had no difficulty staying hard as he stood at

attention for my inspection. Of course I was still dressed,

but I could tell that hard, Greg's cock was about the same

impressive length as mine -- which was rare, as I knew from

my days in the high school shower room -- but it was not

nearly as big around as mine. As something to play with,

tease, cause pain to, decorate, tie up, lock away, wrap

ribbons around, put sock puppets on, and feed to both ends

of his parents, Greg's cock was just FINE. And he would

eventually pay those prices, and more, for access to my

life-giving substance.

Meanwhile, Benjy was in a forgiving mood. "Tell you what,

Mr. Durrell, you don't have to get hard for me now, and

I'll try REAL hard not to embarrass ya at your office

tomorrow afternoon. Just do me one favor. Bring the pants

of your best suit to a tailor, and tell him to cut a flap

around your ass, HERE and HERE" (demonstrating on his own

jeans), "and removing the belt loops in the flap. Tell him

to put a velcro strip on either side to keep the flap shut,

so you can't tell the pants were cut without really

looking. Anytime, I wanna be able to grab the back of the

pants under the belt, pull down the flap, and have access

to your pussy. That means you're gonna have to cut a hole

in your boxers, too. Anytime I can't get in, you're gonna

be VERY sick that night."

Suddenly, the door to Dad's room opened, and out slouched

a disheveled, disgusted-looking, defeated Liza. She looked

nothing like the elegant lady who had arrived earlier. In

her eyes we could see the growing need that the other two

must also be feeling. Dad then came out of his room with

a big smile on his face. "So, have your two been

cooperative?" Benjy said "Welllllll...." and paused long

enough to increase the Durrell's panic, then said "I guess

so."

Dad said, "OK, let's give our new friends their reward.

Let's sit on the couch bare-assed, legs spread, feet on

the coffee table. Durrells, there should be enough room

between the couch and the coffee table for you to crawl

between each of our legs, and claim your happiness." And

once we sat down with our muscular legs obscenely spread,

without hesitation each Durrell crawled between them and

stared hungrily at our crotches.

"Tell you what," said Dad. "This first time we'll do the

work for you, because you have no experience and you'd

probably give us really bad blow jobs anyway. It'll be

your job to learn how to do it well, so that next time

each of your mouths can give a good imitation of a

skilled pussy.But for now just stare at us and wait

eagerly for your treat." And with that the three of us

started jerking off slowly, to the frustration of the

Durrells, all three of whom subconsciously licked their

lips and stared at the barrel cocks that would now

control much of their world.

As we preplanned, we tried to time it so all three of us

would fill the Durrell mouths at the same time, like the

water pistols that shoot into the carnival clowns' faces

at the county fair. Although we missed the target a

little, it didn't matter, since the Durrells didn't need

a full load at this point anyway. But it was fun to watch

them scramble desperately for every last drop, and slurp

up the spilled portions. They then fell into a state of

contentment. While they were like that, we kicked the

coffee table out of the way and used the Durrells as

footrests while we watched that redneck TV comedy show

with Jeff Foxworthy.

Once they came down from their high, we booted them out

of the house. As we escorted them to the door, I told

Greg he should report to me tomorrow after his track

practice. Dad told Liza she should get to our place in

time to cook us a good dinner. And Benjy told John,

"See ya tomorrow at work, Mr. Durrell!" I especially

liked the way he said that. It was as if a horny Eddie

Haskell had somehow gotten absolute mind control over

the Cleavers in that old TV show on cable.

And as they got to their car, Dad called to them, with

an evil grin, "Remember, today is the first day of the

rest of your lives!"

********************

I think I've GOT to continue this one (if anyone reads

it!). I've got the perfect nuclear family utterly

dependent on the depraved sadistic dominant one. If it

weren't getting late, I could add another dozen pages

without a pause!

Http://www.eroticgayhypnosis.com