Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. This story contains depictions of incest, sexual violence, homophobic slurs, blackmail, nonconsensual pornography/revenge porn, and other situations that readers may find offensive and/or triggering. Do not read this story if you are under the age of 18. All characters in this story are over the age of 18.
There was rarely a wrong time to have an epiphany, but having one while his dad was puking his guts out in the upstairs bathroom came pretty damn close to being one.
“Why can’t you puke in your own bathroom?” Zayn demanded from the doorway.
“I don’t want it to smell like vomit,” his dad croaked.
Zayn gave his dad an incredulous look that he couldn't see with his face buried in the toilet. “Why does my bathroom have to smell like vomit?”
“Fuck off, Zayn,” dad said, and Zayn threw up his hands.
"You hypocritical fuck!" growled Zayn. Luckily, his father's next stream of puke interrupted his retort. His dad might have been too sick to do anything to him right then, but he had a memory like an elephant, and the second he felt better, Zayn’s ass was grass.
His dad finished that round, though he was still gagging.
Oddly, despite the nastiness of the situation, Zayn’s cock twitched. And when his dad gagged again, Zayn’s cock jerked in his joggers.
That was interesting.
Zayn considered himself to be heterosexual, but there was just something about a man gagging and retching–under the right circumstances–that got him going even more than women in the same position. One might wonder how Zayn knew such a thing, and that was because he subscribed to the philosophy that a hole was a hole was a hole, even a gloryhole, and gender had very little to do with it. He knew there was little to no chance the person attached to the mouth sucking his cock was a woman, but he didn’t think his hand was one, either, and whether he was choking some dude with his thick eight inches from the other side of a wall or choking his meat in his fist, it was friction on his dick, and it was going to get him off. That was basic reproductive biology.
The mouth on the other side of his favorite gloryhole in town was a different breed entirely. That mouth had zero self-respect, and Zayn enjoyed that quality in a suck hole. The first time he’d gotten his dick in that talented throat, it was so unexpectedly good, he’d nutted in two seconds flat. Now, after building up some resistance, he could last at least five minutes. That might not seem impressive to a layperson, but when a lethal throat champ like the gloryhole slut really tried to get someone off, they nut whether they want to or not.
It was a battle of wills and a test of endurance, and Zayn’s goal was to one day make it to ten minutes.
And now he had some more goals to add thanks to his earlier epiphany.
Zayn let his father stink up his bathroom, opening up all of the windows in the house to try and get some air flowing. He was going on a walk so he could get away from the gagging and noxious gas his father was emitting.
Zayn had some plotting to do.
Zayn went to his third favorite place, the gloryhole, three days later. He’d had to find other activities to fill his time in the interim, which wasn’t hard given his social standing in school. He was a stud, and that attracted other studs, and that attracted popularity, which attracted women. It was a good system, one he'd gladly perfected.
Zayn got by on his looks and athletic prowess alone, but his charisma, penchant for scheming, and academic ability were some nice bonuses.
There was a line at the toilets, and it wasn’t because they were all in use–the two stalls closest to the door were being ignored completely. That could only mean one thing:
The cumdump was back from sick leave.
Zayn ignored the line and walked towards the stall. Only one man was brave–or stupid–enough to say anything.
"Yo, pretty boy, there’s a line.”
Zayn paused and looked back with a wink. "Glad you think I'm pretty."
The man who was getting pissy with him was about five foot nine and three hundred pounds of roided up gym rat. He had that mulish look to him, the one that told Zayn all he needed to know–this was an insecure person who was desperate to assert dominance. That meant he was both volatile and a waste of Zayn's time.
“I’m just gonna get a pic of the faggot," Zayn said, pushing down his distaste for the man and giving him a 'who, me? I'm just a dumb kid' smile. He shook his phone at the dude as if it should've been obvious.
That seemed to placate the stocky little bruiser and he nodded, stepping back into line. “Nice.”
Zayn saved his eye roll for when he was facing the toilets and forced the irritation off of his face before he popped his head around the stall door. Zayn raised his eyebrows when he saw a nerdy dude with those Dexter's Lab glasses thrusting his hips rhythmically into the cumdump's poop shoot. Zayn had fucked women's asses before, but it had never occurred to him to try anal with a man. The way the guy's face was contorted, like it was so good he was in pain, Zayn decided he'd add it to the bucket list. For research.
“Bro, tell him to push out the cum,” Zayn said on a stage whisper.
The nerdy twink looked like he was about to tell Zayn to mind his own goddamn business, but when he looked up from the hole chewing on his cock and saw Zayn's easy smile on his handsome face, and the fact that Zayn was big enough to wrestle him out of the stall if he really wanted to, he nodded and backed up, issuing the command on Zayn's behalf.
And just like a good little piggy, his dad pushed like he was trying to take a shit. His hole twitched a few times, then he began farting out slimy cum. Zayn filmed it, getting close so the camera would pick up the little plopping noises as globs of cum dripped down his taint and off his balls, pooling on the dirty tile of the public restroom.
“Nice,” the nerd fucking his dad said.
Zayn nodded his agreement, then quietly commanded–and it was a command–“Get back in there, tiger," while clapping the fucker on the shoulder like they were buds.
It seemed the nerd was super into being filmed, or maybe it was just when a sexy motherfucker like Zayn did it, because not only did he not protest when Zayn panned the camera up his body to his face, he put on a show, pulling his t-shirt up to reveal a surprisingly defined and lean eight pack–Zayn amended his earlier prognosis of 'twink' to 'twunk'–and really started laying into the gloryhole skank. His dad, from the other side of the divider, began grunting with every snap of the nerdy twunk's hips.
Zayn allowed himself to react outwardly, surprise and respect showing on his features. The nerd grinned flirtatiously, eating up the flattery, more focused on Zayn than his dad. Zayn took it as a compliment, and he made sure to get the expression on camera. A guy half his dad's weight and age was giving him the D, and his dad was taking it like a little bitch. It was, admittedly, hot as fuck.
Zayn stood on the toilet bowl, hanging his phone over the divider to get a bird's eye view of the action from the other side.
His slut father–he couldn’t even call him a whore, because he was doing this shit for free–had his big, veiny, hairy man hands braced on the stall divider furthest from Zayn. Zayn had to admit his dad looked shredded. The old man worked out regularly and ate right a majority of the time, but like most men in their forties, he carried around some padding that had lessened after four days of involuntary fasting. Food poisoning was becoming of him, apparently.
Zayn couldn't see his dad's face from this angle, but he could imagine it, his symmetrical features all scrunched up in pain/pleasure as he took what Glasses was dishing out after who knew how many stranger dicks. Zayn couldn't wait to get an opportunity to see that look all up close and personal with the added humiliation that he was being fucked by his big dicked son.
His dad was good looking–Zayn's whole family was sexy–but that didn't change the fact that his dad was a piece of shit. A piece of shit with a high paying job, assets, and a position of power. The man of the house.
Not for long.
Zayn stepped down from the toilet, recognizing that the nerd was about to blow. He managed to capture the look on his face as he was about to cum–not too difficult, considering the guy hadn't taken his eyes off of Zayn since he'd invited himself to the fuck.
With some creative gesturing, he got the nerdy twunk to pull out while he unloaded, getting a nice clip of him shooting spurts of jizz on his dad's shithole like a bullseye. Zayn gave the cue, and the nerd started sliding the head of his dick through the cock snot and pushing it back into his dad's shitter.
The whole time, the twunk kept one eye on Zayn, probably picturing Zayn as the owner of the hole he was fucking, which was hilarious on multiple levels.
Zayn couldn't blame him; he knew he was a sexy motherfucker, and if he was the nerdy twunk, he'd want to bang himself, too. No homo.
Zayn recorded it all in one take. If his father didn't comply with his demands, Zayn would be forced to distribute his sex tape, and he wanted there to be as little skepticism as possible about its authenticity. Plus, Zayn loved continuity.
Zayn got another closeup as Glasses slapped his wang against his dad's red and inflamed hole, leaking cum. Damn, the nerd really beat his pussy up.
Zayn reached down and squeezed the nerd's bare ass, reading him right, because the nerd's cock twitched and he groaned contentedly. Definitely a fag.
Zayn leaned into his ear, letting his lips brush against the shell, and whispered, "Piss in that bussy, bro."
The twunk looked momentarily surprised, a little squicked out, then recovered and shrugged like he pissed in stranger's assholes all the time. Dude was definitely trying to act slick for Zayn's benefit, which was a nice stroke to his ego, because the nerd was hot for a dude. Again, no homo.
The nerd began to piss in the gloryhole slut's poop shoot. Zayn's cock was throbbing trapped in the confinement of his boxer briefs. Not only from degrading the scum he called his dad, but because he'd gotten this stranger to do the heavy lifting for him with a few simple commands, despite the fact that some of those commands disgusted him. It was a taste of power, and it was all thanks to dear old dad.
Zayn was on a mission, though, so he ignored his erection and murmured, "Make him hold it." His warm breath ghosted over his new admirer's ear, who shivered.
"Hold it," the nerd commanded.
His dad clenched his hole tight like his sphincter was the last line of defense between terrorists and an orphanage.
At Zayn's nod, his new buddy said, "Push it out."
The subby bottom forced out a stream of piss and cum and, yep, a little bit of shit, from his asshole along with some noisy wet farts. If Zayn didn’t have an iron stomach, he’d be puking by now.
Didn’t do a thing to deflate his erection, though.
After giving the sexy little nerd an 'attaboy' and another ass squeeze as a reward for his obedience, Zayn exited the stall and crept towards the only other one in use where his dad was getting his shit rocked. Zayn was able to get close enough to the gap between the door and the divider to capture a clear shot of his face, though his dad looked too lost in ecstasy to give a shit even if he saw him. He was jacking his cock like a madman, and Zayn zoomed in to get a closeup of the cock he was abusing and the cock ring around his genitals. His dad's dick was red bordering on purple, worse at the tip, and his balls looked in a bad way, too. The pig was primed to blow, but he showed no signs of slowing down or stopping.
Zayn turned to survey the room for the first time since he'd started filming. When he'd left the furthest stall–where the nerd was still playing with his father's asshole, apparently–he'd held the phone close to his face like he was inspecting something while sneakily recording the bodies of the many men lined up to dump a load in his dad's sloppy hole. Now, he did something similar, though this time he held his phone closer to his face, so he was able to get footage of the men's faces. The line was even longer before, and he noticed for the first time that there was even a woman in line, who he assumed must have a penis if the bulge in her jeans was anything to go by.
Zayn winked at her, and she winked back. Zayn was a product of his generation and didn't give a shit about how one identified as long as they left him the fuck alone, but with her? He'd ride that woman's ass if he was given the opportunity, though if he had to guess–and he was a good guesser–she was a top.
Pressing his luck, he stepped up to the woman and leaned in for a kiss, and she allowed it, pressing their bulges together. It was a hot as fuck kiss, one where they battled for dominance and pulled away panting.
"Any chance you'll let me in that pussy?" he murmured. Out of all of the people in the restroom, she seemed the only formidable opponent, and he'd rather have her as a friend than an enemy.
She smirked. "No chance in hell, kid."
He grinned. "Had to ask."
He was about to move on when she hooked her finger in his belt loop and yanked him back. "I see my face in that video, I'll come after you. Don't think I don't have the means." It figured that she was the only one to notice he'd been filming faces.
"Yes, ma'am," he drawled. She patted him on the ass and let him move on.
Damn, even Zayn could admit he could learn some things from that bitch.
Now that he’d fulfilled his mission for the evening, Zayn ended the recording and glanced at the line critically. He didn't feel like waiting for a blowie, so he made an educated guess and stepped into line behind the roided out loser from earlier. No one gave him shit for cutting the line, nor did they seem irritated that the nerdy twunk had taken so long. They were all vibing. Some dudes were on their phones, some were rubbing their bulges, and some were giving out a helping hand–presumably the gay ones. Seemed these men–and woman–had an appreciation for the arts.
The nerdy twunk finished up in the stall and sent a flirty look at Zayn. As anticipated, he stopped and pushed a business card into Zayn's pants pocket. "If you ever feel like holding a private screening, I can host."
"Noted," Zayn said with a smirk. The nerd copped a feel and left.
The bruiser he stood behind saw the exchange and scowled. "You a fag?"
"Nah," answered Zayn. "You?"
"Nah," he responded, though he seemed–hypocritically–more offended by the question. "Show me that video."
"Nah," Zayn said.
The guy seemed uncertain where to go from there after Zayn's blasé response.
The meathead pressed, "But I wanna see it."
Zayn gave him an unimpressed look. "You could make your own."
The bruiser changed tactics. “What’s he look like?”
Zayn grimaced. “You don’t wanna know, man.”
He blinked, surprised. “That bad?”
Zayn nodded solemnly. ”Grotesque." Before he could ask another question, Zayn continued, "You ever seen The Princess Bride? He looks like that blond dude. Not Westley, the one who tortures Westley."
As if Zayn didn't have enough reason to believe the meathead was a closeted fag, he said, "Bummer." Like he was hoping the cocksucker was hot.
“You suck cock?” Zayn asked conversationally.
The big guy gave him a skeptical look. “You want head?”
Obviously. "Just making conversation." Zayn shrugged. He wanted to make this little wannabe alpha choke on his tool and be humbled with a little bukkake, but he'd settle for a throatfuck. Zayn gave the man a considering look. “I mean...I guess I might be down. If you're offering."
Bruiser scoffed. "I'm not a fag," he said for the second time, only now, he didn't sound quite as certain.
"Sure," Zayn replied easily. "That's too bad."
The meathead looked down at Zayn's sizable bulge, then back up at Zayn's handsome face. Hell, he'd called him 'pretty boy' for a reason. "How big is it?"
"Eight," he said.
The meathead looked like he was doing calculus in his head. "In the stall?"
“Nah,” Zayn said, shaking his head regrettably. “I got a real nice piece. It would be a disservice to not show it off to these gentlemen and gentlelady, know what I mean?”
The bruiser nodded. Dropped to his knees. Kind of stared at it like he could use telekinesis to coax it out of his joggers.
One of the horny gays behind him called, "That thing up for grabs?"
Zayn bluffed like he was about to say yes, even though he wasn't really in the mood for eager head. He wanted reluctant head.
Mr. Roid Rage pulled Zayn's huge tool out of his joggers and had it halfway down his throat before Zayn got out a single syllable. Seemed he'd worked past whatever gay crisis he was having.
"Sheeeit," groaned Zayn, thrusting into the big guy's mouth, helping him get down those last few inches to the root.
The bruiser gagged and retched around his cock, and Zayn pulled out to let him take a breath after that warmup.
“I’m not a fag,” the bruiser croaked, and Zayn wasn’t sure who this cocksucking beta whore was trying to convince, but it sure as fuck wasn’t him.
“Everybody’s a fag when they’re sucking cock,” Zayn replied like he was reciting a common proverb. He grabbed the fag's hair and twisted roughly, the guy's mouth falling open so Zayn could shove his cock back into it.
The dude was giving an expert level blowie. Not elite levels like Zayn's dad, not even close, but his dad was in a league of his own. But this little cocksucking gymrat was definitely not a rookie.
Once Zayn got over the initial surprise of the professional grade head, he remembered to take out his phone and begin recording. "You're just a dickeating slut, aren't you?" Zayn taunted.
The guy moaned around his cock, but he didn't nod, and that simply wouldn't do. Zayn shoved in to the base in the closeted slut's throat. "I asked you a question."
The idiot nodded on his dick, working him over in his throat. He was making those noises like if Zayn's cock wasn't blocking his esophagus, he would be spewing throat mucus. His eyes and throat were red and bulging, and as he gagged, snot flew from his nose. "You're disgusting and pathetic," Zayn observed aloud.
A few guys had joined him to watch the meathead fag blow him.
Zayn decided he was bored with his game and skull fucked the bruiser, slamming down his throat and holding still until the guy was struggling to push him off. When Zayn finally freed him, the cocksucker pulled back spluttering and retching thick saliva over Zayn's cock and the front of his own shirt while he gasped for air. They repeated the pattern until Zayn was ready to blow.
When Zayn was about to nut, he pulled out jerked a few times until he was shooting ropes of jizz over the horny, humiliated meathead's face. When he was done–no one tried to rush him, which was wise on their part–he dragged his cock and balls through it, smearing that and the dude's own snot and drool and tears over his genitals.
"Clean it," Zayn commanded, and the subby gymrat obeyed. When he was done, Zayn put away his cock and reached for his wallet. "Not a fag, huh?" He inwardly scoffed.
"Fuck you," the guy said weakly as the other guys started to close in, like vultures waiting for the predator to lose interest in its kill.
“You give shitty head,” Zayn stated blithely, throwing a twenty at his feet as he turned to leave. He then realized how many men had been watching the show, which was enough to keep Zayn hard. As he exited, he made sure everyone knew about the second cocksucker. "This scrawny little faggot is giving blowjobs for twenty bucks." A lie–dude would probably do it for free–but being paid for sex was so much more humiliating for someone as insecure as the meathead.
A few guys started pulling out their wallets to check for cash, and Zayn laughed quietly to himself.
He walked home with a pep in his step, plan already in motion.
Author’s Note: Thanks for reading! If you want to read more of my writing, check out Corporal Punishment: A Last Resort and/or Charlie and the Himbos.
