My Drunken Dad

My Drunken Dad

By: Spectronica247

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Summary:

Kevin McDaniel was forced by his father, Greg, to watch straight porn in an attempt to convert him into a heteronormative life. This led to a hostile fight between the two but later turned into a warm incestuous moment.

Chapter Two - "The Argument"

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"Are you fucking kidding me? No, dad," Kevin shook his head with anger and disgust. "This ISN'T what being a man is about!"

Greg's smug smile faltered for a moment, his eyes narrowing. "What do you mean by that?" he demanded lowly.

"This," Kevin gestured towards the TV with a trembling hand, "this is not what makes a man. It's just... violence and objectification. It's not love or respect or anything good. Like how desperate are you, Dad? I came home from a long evening at work to study, only for you to pull me out of my bedroom with no care about my education… just to force me to watch… THIS?!"

But the patriarch only chuckled darkly, a cruel smirk lingered on his middle-aged face. "What's wrong boy, can't handle a little bit of this? You think you know everything, huh? This is education… to teach you the true path of what a real man is destined for, not to parade around like a fucking fairy with some other man's cock up your ass."

"Oh god, Dad, I never actually been with a guy… like that." Kevin said, looking his dad straight in the eye. "But even if I had, it wouldn't make me any less of a man."

Greg's smile twisted into a sneer as he denied Kevin's words. "You're just a confused little boy, Kevin. You don't know what you're talking about," he spat before he gestured to the TV, "This is the way of the world. Men gettin' women to submit to them. That's how it's always been and how it'll always be." His brown eyes remained glued to the screen, as if he could somehow will Kevin's 'confusion' away by forcing him to watch the scene unfold. "Now keep your eyes on the screen, boy. You ain't leavin' until you're cleansed of all the faggotness in you."

Kevin wasn't about to let his father's toxic words go unchallenged. "And what if I refuse?" He replied, his voice gaining strength with every word. "You think that your conversion therapy treatment for me is gonna change me, to turn me into a sad copy of you by forcing me to watch some straight pornographic shit? When I should be upstairs in my room studying for tomorrow's math exam right now?"

"Quit complaining, boy. You can forget about studying for some stupid exam. It's just a waste of time anyways. I will not have a fag in my family." the curly-haired man hissed, the smugness replaced by a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Now watch and learn something for once, son. This is what I'm trying to do for you. I am not forcing you, I am trying to save you from yourself. This faggotness needs to end."

On the television, the brunet man unbuckled his own leather belt with a smug confidence, the metal clanking against the chair as he pulled his pants down to his ankles. His erect penis sprang free from his drenched boxer briefs, a clear indication of his arousal from the power play. He grabbed a fistful of the woman's neck and forced her to focus on his erect manhood now above her face, her eyes tearing up from the pain as the man's pre-cum landed on her nose from the mushroom head. "Get to sucking, my slut," he ordered, his deep voice a command that left no room for argument.

With fear and lust in her eyes, the strawberry-blonde-haired woman obeyed, taking the brunet man's erect penis into her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed as she bobbed her head up and down, the sound of her sucking filling the air alongside the fighter's deep heavy breaths. The male actor's hand remained on her neck, his hips bucking slightly with every gulp she took.

The scene was a blatant display of dominance and submission, and Kevin's blood was broiling as he watched his father nod along with the man's actions. "You see that, son," Greg said as he pointed at the screen. "That's how you treat a woman. You take what you want when you want pleasure from them. It's what gets a woman to respect you."

The 18-year-old's jaw clenched as he stared at the screen from his glasses. "This is wrong, dad," Kevin murmured, his voice barely audible. "Again, that's not what makes you a man. That's just being an asshole."

Greg's head whipped around, his eyes narrowed in fury. "What did you say?"

"I think you heard me the first time," The auburn teen talked back, his voice growing stronger despite the fear that gripped his chest. "This isn't what being a man is about. Being a man is about respect and consent, not treating people like objects to use and abuse."

The dark-brown haired patriarch scoffed at his son's words. "You're just too soft to get it, aren't you? You think you're better than me because you're all sensitive and shit?"

Kevin's eyes flashed with defiance. "No," he replied in a firm voice. "I think I'm better than you because I know the difference between love and violence. And don't tell me that's how you treated Mom."

That last sentence hit Greg like a ton of bricks. The drunken man snarled with rage at the mention of his late wife. "Don't you DARE talk about your mother, boy!" he bellowed, his fist slamming into the armrest of the chair.

Kevin jumped by the sudden slam of his father's fist on the table, his heart thumping in his chest, but he didn't back down. "This isn't about Mom," he said, his voice steady. "This is about YOU, who's trying to turn me into something I'm not." He paused, then added with a shake of his head, "And it's not going to work. Bye dad."

The teen then stands up from the couch with the attempt to depart himself from the living room, but his dad's hand tightens around his wrist. "You ungrateful little shit," he growled, yanking Kevin back down to the couch. "You ain't gettin' your faggot ass away from me this time, and I mean it. You're gonna stay and watch the entire film with me whether you like it or not."

Kevin opened his mouth to protest again, but Greg's grip tightened on his arm, cutting off the words before they could escape.

"Look, boy," the McDaniel patriarch snarled, pointing to the screen. The brunet man's hand was buried between the woman's legs, his fingers moving in a rough, deliberate rhythm that made her hips buck. She moaned around the man's cock, her eyes squeezed shut in a mix of pain and pleasure, her breasts jiggling with every thrust of her chest.

"This is what you need to learn," Greg continued. "You take what you want from a woman. Look at how she's loving it. Just like how your mother did."

The scene was a grim depiction of what Greg believed to be the epitome of male dominance, a perverse celebration of his own depraved ideals. But Kevin knew it wasn't right. It's not in his interest to behave this animalistic. The woman on the screen was being used, her pleasure a mere afterthought in a display of brute force.

Greg turns his attention to the screen and nods his head in approval as he grabs himself a half-full beer bottle to take another swing. "Exactly how men are created to be, to be with women. It's how they were able to get them pregnant and start a family. Like how me and your mother did. Like how your cousin Arnold and his wife Hannah did. At least he knows how a real man is supposed to behave…" Greg then leans towards Kevin's face and whispers, "unlike you, a weak fag who wants to ruin his own life and end up miserable".

Am I seriously gonna let myself be stuck with this? Kevin thought to himself with an annoyed sigh, rolling his eyes at the comparison his dad made between him and his cousin.

"For the hundredth time, Dad, what part of 'This is who I am' don't you understand?" Kevin said through gritted teeth, with sadness and anger built up from years of feeling misunderstood and unwanted. He refused to back down on his rebellion against his dad. "Why can't you get it through your thick skull? I'm NOT going to change, Dad. No matter how many of these... these... disgusting shows you make me watch."

Greg's smile faded, his grip on the beer bottle tightening until his knuckles turned white. "You little shit," he cursed. "Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?"

"Uh, is there anyone else in the house? I'm talking to you! We're the only two humans here. You can't keep doing this to me forever. It's like you're trying to find a cure for death. I'm not like you! I didn't choose to be gay, I never did." Kevin spoke boldly, even though he knew his words would fall on deaf ears. "I didn't want this at first and wished I was straight, but I can't change that, as forcing myself to be straight is what's really gonna cause me to be miserable, not by being a 'weak fag' as you put it. At least your own son isn't a criminal, a drug dealer, a pedophile, or worse… a fucking serial killer. Life is too short, and I have the right to love who I want."

Greg's face turns beet red with anger, as he is not the kind of man who lets anyone, especially his own son, smart-talk him. His brown eyes were flaring with rage as his voice raised to a shout. "Shut up, you little faggot! You ARE like me, only you wanna keep denying it! And you think you're better than me? Ha! Newsflash, boy: nobody wants a fag for a son. Nobody wants to be associated with that kind of filth." His words spit out, his deep voice dripping with venom.

"Maybe I should've beat the hell out of your mother a lot more when she told me she was pregnant with you, had I predicted that you're gonna become a weak little freak who can't even control himself. This is the thanks I get for being the one who worked hard to provide for this family. Now your mother is gone because she can't handle the fact she has given birth to a faggot! Pathetic!" He slams his fist on the table again, making the bottles rattle as some fell to the floor. "And as for this whole 'loving who you want', you're not even worthy of love. You're a disgusting little faggot who's gonna end up alone and miserable."

Kevin scoffed, "Alone and miserable… like you, dad? Well at least I don't talk down on people for being different from me. At least I don't berate and beat my spouse senseless everyday and blame their accidental death on my child. At least I know how to keep my part-time job instead of sleeping late on schedule and missing work after drinking at a bar all night. At least I antagonize anyone but myself for my own faults."

Now Greg's face went purple, flames of hell could be seen burning in his brown eyes. "You dare talk smart with me, you little piece of trash? You think you're so perfect, don't you? Let me tell you this boy, I may not be the best father or husband, but at least I'm a real man. And men don't take crap from nobody. Especially not from some weak little fairy like you." He spits out the words.

Kevin's eyes flashed with anger, a fire igniting in him that had never been there before. "I'm not a 'boy' anymore!" he shouted, finally jerking his arm free of Greg's grip. "And I'm certainly NOT a 'weak little fairy'. You're the one who's weak, Dad. Too weak to face the truth, too weak to be a good husband and a father, too weak to accept who I am and accept the fact that Mom's death was all on you!"

That did it.

Greg's hand shot out like a viper, slapping Kevin across the face with a resounding 'crack'. The blow sent Kevin reeling, his cheek stinging with the imprint of his father's calloused hand.

"SHUT UP! I will not be talked back by a fucking queer, a fucking disappointment," the curly-haired man snarled in a menacing tone, spittle flying from his lips. "A goddamn disgrace to this family!"

The patriarch took a swig of his beer, the amber liquid sloshing around in the bottle as he pointed it at Kevin. "You wanna talk about weakness?" He sneered. "Look in the mirror, boy! It was your mother, that weak bitch, who couldn't handle the reality of what she created in you! She's the one who fucked everything up by babying you! And now she's gone, because she couldn't deal with the fact that she raised a faggot! You're the reason she's dead, you little shit," Greg spat. "You're the one who drove her away, and now she's paying the ultimate price for your sickness!"

Kevin's eyes watered with pain and rage, but he held his ground, his voice steady as he shook his head. "It's not me who's the disgrace," he shot back. "It's you and your archaic beliefs. Mom didn't die because of me, she knew I was gay before she left and she still loved me. She knew I was a good person. The real reason she died was because of YOU! Because you couldn't keep your hands to your fucking self! Because she couldn't handle you drinking, your anger, your constant belittling of her, especially watching you destroy me."

The teen's eyes searched his father's, looking for a spark of understanding, of remorse, but found only a wall of intoxicated stubbornness. Still, he continued, "She was only trying to help you get your shit together because she cares deeply about you like a loving wife she is, but all she got in return is a bite to the hand from her own husband who she's trying to feed. She was trying to keep the peace, to keep this house from falling apart completely. But you... you just kept pushing, pushing until her spirit broke to the point she felt overwhelmed and needed a break from you, only for her life to be snatched away in a car crash by some fucker who's ass is drunk like you. And now you're pushing me down the same path, trying to turn me into something I'm not just to make yourself feel better about your own fucked-up life!"

Greg's sneer grew more pronounced, "What the fuck do you know?" he scoffed with spiteful resentment. "You're just a kid. You think you know everything because you read some books and hangin' with your friends who are probably also faggots, but you don't know shit about life!"

"I'm more than just those things. I know Mom tried to get you to go to AA, to get a better job, to be a better father to me, but you just took your frustrations out on us. She was the glue holding us together, and when she realized she couldn't fix you, she had to save herself. She worked two jobs to keep us afloat while you sat on your ass watching TV and getting drunk. She cleaned up your messes, she took the beatings, and she never once said a bad word about you to anyone. And all she got in return was your hate and your fists." The words came out in a rush, a dam of pain and anger breaking free. "Because she's not here to support us, I now have to spend my after-school hours working my ass off to try and keep the roof over our heads since you're unwilling to find yourself a job. And honestly, I don't blame her for deciding to leave your pathetic drunk ass. At least she supports me as a real parent should. She believes that having a gay son is better than having a dead son. Why can't you be happy that you still have a son for once?"

Greg's eyes widened, and for a moment, something that looked almost like regret flickered in his gaze. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a cold, hard look of defiance. "You don't know the first thing about your mother," he spat, the words a knife to the heart of the already bruised teen. "She was always trying to control me, pushing her own shit onto me. She's a weak bitch who couldn't handle her role as a submissive wife." He took another swig of his beer. "As for you," he points the bottle at Kevin, "You think that she's happy for you, but I know that she's only hiding her disappointment because she doesn't know how to mold you into something normal. You're just a mouthy little shit tryin' to be Mr-Know-It-All on me. And you'd think I'd be happy that I still have a fag for a son? Well boy… if I had my way before you were born, I'd kill myself."

Kevin's eyes widened upon hearing his father's cruel words, he knew that his father's words were 100% wrong. He shook his head with disgust, not believing that this is the man who brought him into this world 18 years ago. The man who has no problem treating his own offspring like subhuman… a punching bag for his own insecurities. "Wow… you're unbelievable!"

"You're unbelievable!" Greg fired back at him. "For becoming a pansy freak of nature and for being a smartass in my own house. I don't give a rat's ass that this is making you uncomfortable. You'll do as I say and stop acting like a queer in front of me!" His brown eyes are blazing with rage as he takes another swig of whiskey.

"You're so far from reality," Kevin said coldly, the tremor in his voice replaced by a steely resolve. "You're the one who's not normal. And I don't want to be like you. This is not going to bring Mom back. This is not what she wanted for me. I'd rather be a 'fag' with friends who love and accept me than be a sad, lonely, drunken man-baby like you, who can't even keep his own family together."

"Why you little fucker!" Greg gritted his teeth with seething rage, the veins can be seen forming on his forehead. "You're gonna wish you'd watch your mouth on me, boy! I'LL SHOW YOU WHO'S THE MAN BABY!" He gets up from the couch and lunges at Kevin with a raised fist.

But Kevin, with years of experience avoiding his father's drunken rage, had learned to anticipate the movements of a man under the influence. He quickly sidestepped Greg's sloppy advance. The heavy weight of Greg's body hit the floor with a thud as his fist swung through empty space, the beer bottle slipping from his grasp and rolling away to shatter against the wall.

"Ow… goddamnit!" He hissed in pain. "You're just like your mother, always bein' a fool and showing me nothing but disrespect!" He bellowed loudly as he got up and started pacing around the room, stumbling slightly due to his intoxication.

Kevin groans with annoyance. "Why do you hate me so much just because of something I can't control?"

Greg's eyes narrow, his drunken rage morphed into a slurred rant. "You think it's something you can't control? Ha! I am only helping you, you ungrateful little shit. So whether you like it or not, you're stuck with me." He spits on the floor. "I swear, I didn't ask for this. I didn't sign up to have a son who's gonna make me look bad in front of my friends and family." He takes another swig of whiskey, his anger and resentment boiling over.

"Well I didn't sign up to have an alcoholic homophobic shithead who's unwilling to care about his son, therefore unfit to be a father when all he does is destroy me like a cruel monster he is." Kevin fired back.

Greg's face contorts in rage, his voice rising to a scream. "YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!" Spittle went flying from his mouth. He takes a step closer to Kevin, his eyes blazing with fury as he grabs Kevin by the arm and pulls him close.

"Ow! Dad, you're hurting my arm!" Kevin hissed.

"'Ow! Dad, you're hurting my arm!'" The bear-bellied man mocked him. "Stop being such a sissy, Kevin. You need to toughen up like a real man, and you will thank me one day. I will not have this queer nonsense in my house, you need to drop this and get yourself a girl like this one." He points at the screen.

Kevin's gaze flickered back to the TV screen, where the brown-haired man was now fucking his cock inside the woman's pussy with a ferocity that seemed to mirror Greg's own rage. The woman's moans were forced and artificial, her eyes glassy with a mix of pain and submission as the man's rough hands gripped her breasts, squeezing and kneading them as if they were the keys to unlocking the secrets of her desire.

The man's abs rippled with every thrust, his muscular back glistening with sweat, and Kevin felt a strange, unwelcome heat build in his stomach, a mix of arousal and revulsion. He wished, with every fiber of his being, that it was him the man was claiming, that the passion and dominance were aimed at someone other than the woman who was being used as a mere prop for their 'educational' film.

Greg's voice suddenly cut him out of his lustful thoughts, his grip tightening on his wrist. "See how hot she is, Kevin? That's what a man wants, not some pansy freak like you."

"Wow, thank you for showing me how hot she looks," Kevin sighed with annoyance, but then a smirk formed on his lips with the idea to mess with him. "so I can make myself look hot as her and get many guys' attention at school. Thanks so much for giving me a great idea."

Greg's eyes bulged in outrage at Kevin's sarcastic remark, the veins in his neck pulsing with barely contained rage. "Don't even try to toy with me, boy." He retorted, venom was dripping in his deep voice. "I should beat some sense into you. You don't know what it's like to feel a hot woman writhing under you, begging for more. It's time you start becoming like your cousin and find yourself a girl."

"How about on February 30th?" Kevin replied. "I'm not straight like you, therefore I'll never be interested. Women are not my cup of tea. Can I go to my room now? Studying is a lot more important than your porn movie right now."

"Over my dead body. You're not going anywhere until I'm done with you." Greg growled. "You need to learn how to be a real man. And that includes liking women."

"Fat chance, old man." Kevin frowned at him.

"Excuse me?" Greg squeezed his son's grip with ire, causing him to wince. "The fuck did I just hear coming out of your mouth, boy?"

The teen jerks his arm away from Greg's grip. "I said FAT CHANCE! You can't force me to like women. How would you like it if someone forced you to like men? For God's sake dad, I'm 18 years old, a young adult who's about to graduate high school soon. Would it kill you if you just let me live life the way I want?"

"I don't give a damn that you're an adult, you're still gonna obey me as long as you live under this roof. So I say; you're not leaving until you watch this whole thing," Greg snarls, his voice thick with alcohol.

Kevin's eyes burned with a fierce hatred he'd never felt before. "Fuck you, dad!" He shoved Greg with all his might. The force sent the older man stumbling backward into the coffee table, knocking over an empty beer can that clattered to the floor. "I can't wait to leave for college, to get away from your shit!"

Greg's rage boiled over at the disrespect, and he lunged at Kevin, fists swinging wildly. The teenager managed to dodge the first few punches, but Greg's size and strength eventually overpowered him, sending Kevin crashing into the wall with a grunt of pain. The fight was brutal, the living room becoming a battleground of flailing limbs and grunts of exertion. Meanwhile the porn video continued playing on in the background, a macabre soundtrack to the father-son brawl, the grunts and moans of the actors mixing with the sound of flesh on flesh.

"You FUCKING BRAT!" Greg roared, throwing a punch that connected with Kevin's stomach. The air whooshed out of Kevin's lungs, and he doubled over, gasping. "You're going to watch this and learn, whether you like it or not!"

But Kevin wasn't going to give up that easily. He had enough of the emotional and physical abuse, and he knew that if he didn't fight back now, he never would. He shoved himself off the wall and threw a wild punch that caught Greg's cheekbone, sending him staggering sideways. "I'm not watching this shit anymore!"

The two men continued to grapple, their movements growing more desperate and erratic. It wasn't long before the living room was trashed, with furniture knocked over. Despite the pain and fear, Kevin felt a strange sense of freedom in finally standing up to his father, in letting out the anger and frustration that had been bottled up for so long.

The fight was a blur of rage and pain, but Kevin's training in self-defense classes paid off. He managed to land a solid kick to Greg's knee, causing him to crumple to the floor with a howl. "You're not going to change me," Kevin panted, his fists clenched. "I am who I am, and if you can't accept that, then you're not worth my time."

Greg lay on the floor, nursing his injured knee, his face a mask of pure rage and disbelief. Kevin's knuckles were bruised, and his cheek was red from the slap, but he was still standing. "Kevin, you're making a mistake," Greg spat through gritted teeth. "You're going to regret this, mark my words."

But Kevin was beyond caring about his father's threats. He was done being the punching bag for Greg's insecurities. "The only mistake I made was believing you ever gave a shit about me," he said coldly. He turned and stormed out of the room and upstairs.

Greg pushed himself up from the floor, his knee throbbing from the kick, and glared at the TV screen with a mix of anger and something else... something he didn't dare acknowledge. The brown-haired man's sweat-slicked body, his powerful strokes and the woman's forced moans, filled the room. He couldn't deny the heat rising in his loins, his own cock swelling with a confusing mix of lust and anger. His brown eyes flickered from the man's flexing biceps to the woman's bouncing breasts and back again, and for a fleeting moment, he found himself wondering what it would be like to feel the man's strength, to be the one overpowered and claimed.

The realization washed over him like ice cold water, and he looked away, ashamed and disgusted with himself. "Damn it," he murmured, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "No... this isn't right." But the arousal remained, a traitorous betrayal to his own twisted sense of masculinity.

As Greg sat there, his mind swirled with the memories of his own past that, unbeknownst to his son and even his late wife, were filled with chaos. Memories he had buried deep, memories that had shaped his own self-loathing and fear of his true desires. He had once felt the same heat that Kevin now felt, the same yearning for the touch of another man, but it had been snuffed out early by his own abusive father who had caught him with his high school boyfriend; David Gaetz.

Back in the late 1990s, when homophobia was still a societal norm in the United States, Greg had been the star of the football team during his high school days, his future had looked bright until that fateful moment. The disgrace had been too much to bear. He had been kicked off the team and his own father had him shipped off to a conversion therapy camp far from their Southern Colorado home, a living hell that had stripped him of his dignity and left him with nothing but anger and confusion.

The camp had scared him deeply when they tried to 'straighten him out', using brutal methods that only served to twist his mind further. It was there that he had learned to hate himself, to fear his own desires, and to project that fear onto anyone who dared to be different. His father had told him, through clenched teeth, that he would rather have a dead son than a queer one, and his mother had wept silently, unable to stand up to her husband's rage, while Greg's siblings had turned their backs on him in fear of sharing his fate.

Greg had never forgotten the taste of blood and bile in his mouth as he lay bruised and broken in the dirt after his father had caught him with David when he was exploring his burgeoning bisexuality. The memory of the vicious beating, the screams of his mother in the background, and the cold, unforgiving glare of his father had been etched into his soul like a brand. The humiliation of being sent to the conversion therapy camp was only surpassed by the agony of missing his own high school graduation, a day that was supposed to be a celebration of his achievements, reduced to a silent vigil for the life he had lost.

Poor Greg McDaniel had never been the same after his own experience with conversion therapy. When he was allowed to return to high school, he had been desperate to erase the stain of his perceived weakness. He had turned on the one person who had brought him joy and understanding; his high school boyfriend David, and aligned himself with the very homophobic bullies who had made his life a living hell. He had blamed David for his downfall, for the loss of his football scholarship, for missing his graduation. The guilt of his betrayal ate away at him as he watched David become a shell of his former self, tormented by the very people he had once called friends.

One day, when David couldn't take it anymore and took his own life, the guilt had grown into a monstrous entity that shadowed Greg for the rest of his days. He had tried to bury it, to drown it in whiskey and the arms of various women, even going so far as to marry Linda in a desperate attempt to prove to himself and the world that he was 'normal', that he was 'manly'. But the truth had remained a thorn in his side, a constant reminder of the love he had destroyed, the innocence he had crushed under the weight of his own fear and insecurity.

Now, two and a half decades later, in his early 40s, as he sat in the wreckage of his living room, his hand hovering over his own swollen cock, the face of the man on the TV screen was a twisted reflection of his own past, taunting him with a desire he had long ago buried and a son who was living the life he had once been denied.

Greg feels like he couldn't let his son follow the same 'sinful' path, not when he had suffered so much to hide his own truth.

He HAS to break him!

He HAS to save him from a life of misery and isolation like the one he had endured.

The bear-bellied patriarch stumbled to his feet, the pain in his knee momentarily forgotten in his blind fury. That little fucker… thinkin' he can disrespect me like that in my house, He thought as he stormed upstairs and made his way towards Kevin's bedroom door.

He starts pounding his fist against it, the wood rattling on its hinges. "You think you can just walk away from me?!" he bellowed. "I'll show you who's in charge here, you little shit! You're going to watch what I bought for us, and you're going to like it," he spat through the door, the words sounding hollow even to his own ears. But Greg wasn't about to admit defeat, not now, not to his son, not when his own demons were so close to the surface. He'd rather destroy what was left of their relationship than face the truth about himself, the truth that Kevin's very existence dared to bring to light.

Inside the room, Kevin was trembling, his back pressed against the door. He had never felt so scared of his father, nor so defiant. His heart was racing as he debated his next move. He knew he couldn't just hide in his room forever, but the thought of facing Greg again made his stomach churn. "I hate you," he murmured to the door, his voice shaking. "I hate what you've done to me, to Mom, to our family. I hate that you can't just accept me for who I am."

The pounding on the door grew louder, the wood creaking under the weight of Greg's fury. "KEVIN WILLIAM MCDANIEL, OPEN THIS GODDAMN DOOR RIGHT NOW!" he roared, his fist pummeling the wood like a battering ram. "DON'T THINK YOU'RE TOO OLD FOR A SPANKING, BOY!"

Tears streamed down Kevin's cheeks, his body shaking with cold fear. He knew his father was dangerous when drunk, and the last thing he wanted was to face that rage again. But something had snapped within him. "You know what… Enough hiding, I can't take it anymore. This has to end!" With a trembling hand, he reached for the doorknob, turning it slowly. The door swung open, revealing Greg's contorted, red face, sweat beads trickling down his forehead.

"What the hell gave you the right to assault your own father like that, boy? Huh? Answer me!" Greg demanded an answer as his calloused fists clenched at his sides, his chest heaving with rage.

Kevin took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm. Not. Watching. Your. Porn! I'm not gonna continue to let you hurt me anymore, so leave me alone!" he said, his voice surprisingly firm despite the tremble in his limbs. He met Greg's gaze, refusing to back down.

"You don't tell me what to do IN MY HOUSE! You're going to do as I say, boy," Greg snarled, advancing into the room. The rage in his eyes was palpable, but there was something else there, something that made Kevin's skin crawl… a look of hunger, a look of need.

Kevin stepped back, his heart racing. "I'm not a boy anymore," he said, his voice shaking. "And this isn't about the porn, it's about you not accepting me. Why can't you just love me for who I am?"

Greg's chocolate brown eyes looked into his son's ocean blue ones, the rage slowly giving way to something more complex: confusion, pain, and perhaps a hint of regret. For a moment, Kevin saw the man he once knew from childhood, the man who had promised to always be there for him. But that man was gone now, lost in a sea of anger and fear. "You don't understand," Greg whispered, his voice sounding a bit emotional. "You don't know what it's like to have the whole world against you. I'm just trying to protect you from that."

The McDaniel teen in glasses felt a pang of pity, but he steeled himself. "Protect me?" He scoffed. "Protect me by doing what?! By keeping me from being happy? By making me watch your pathetic straight sex film? By calling me names and hurting me? That's not protection, that's abuse. And I won't stand for it anymore."

Greg took another step forward, his rage increasing hotter than ever. "If you think talking back at me is gonna get you somewhere, you got another thing comin'," Greg spat. "I'm your father, and you listen to what I tell you to do."

Kevin took a step back as he squinted his eyes with disgust. "How can I look at you as my father," he asked, his voice low and full of venom. "Why should it be my father being a sad, pathetic man who can't deal with his own shit, so he takes it out on the people he's supposed to love? You're a fucking MONSTER, so how about you go to hell with your prejudice shit."

And once again… that did it.

Greg's fury had reached a boiling point. In two quick strides, he closed the space between them and slammed Kevin against the wall, his hands around his son's neck, squeezing with a strength born of years of suppressed anger and self-loathing. "You think you can talk to me like that, you little queer?" he roared, the whiskey on his breath hot against Kevin's face.

"Dad, stop it… Let go of me!" Kevin choked out, his eyes watering from the pressure of Greg's thick, calloused fingers around his neck. Despite the fear, he couldn't ignore the unwelcome heat building in his crotch, the fabric of his jeans straining against his growing arousal as his father's bulging crotch pushed against him.

Kevin's thoughts were a tumult of confusion and horror as his body responded against his will to the pressure of his father's body against his own. What the fuck is wrong with me? he screamed internally, his mind racing as he felt his cock swell uncontrollably. Why the hell am I getting hard all of the sudden... on my own fucking dad?

This wasn't right, this couldn't be happening.

Greg felt the unmistakable bulge of his son's arousal against him, and his expression twisted into a cruel smirk. "Look at you, you're even getting hard for your old man," he jeered, his voice thick with disgust. "You really are a sick faggot, aren't you?" He didn't realize his own erection was pressing back against Kevin, a testament to the twisted mess of his own repressed desires.

The bear-bellied patriarch ground his hips against his son, using his weight to pin him against the wall. "You can't even control yourself, can you?" He sneered, his eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction as he watched the fear and confusion in Kevin's face. "You're just as fucked up as I thought you were."

Kevin's eyes widened in horror as he realized his body's traitorous response to the unwanted situation. "Dad, stop, please," he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. "This isn't right. You're sick!"

Greg's smirk only grew, his grip tightening around Kevin's neck. "No, you're the sick one," he retorted, his voice a harsh rasp. "Look at you, getting hard for your own father. You're the one who needs fixing." He pushed his hips forward, grinding his own erection into Kevin's, the friction sending waves of unwanted sensation through the young man's body. "Maybe I should just show you how it's done, right here, right now," he sneered, his breath hot and foul. "Maybe then you'll finally get it through that thick skull of yours that you're just like me. Maybe then… you'll understand what it means to be a man."

Kevin's breath hitched as he felt himself growing even harder against his father's body, his mind reeling in shock and disgust. "What… what do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching Greg's for any semblance of sanity. The pressure on his neck was making it difficult to breathe, stars dancing in his vision, but his body's unwanted response was even more suffocating.

"You know what I mean," Greg sneered, his grip tightening as he leaned in closer, his hot breath washing over Kevin's face. "I'm gonna fuck the faggot out of you, boy," he whispered, his voice thick with malice and something else... something Kevin couldn't quite identify. It was a mix of anger, desire, and something that sounded eerily like desperation. "You want it, don't you?" he taunted, his other hand reaching down to cup Kevin's swollen crotch.

Kevin's body was betraying him, his cock throbbing in his father's hand, and it was all he could do not to scream in horror and frustration. "Dad, no," he choked out, his voice a mix of pain and revulsion. "This isn't right." But the words sounded weak, even to his own ears, drowned out by the thundering of his heart and the roaring in his head. "I'm your fucking son! Why the hell would you wanna fuck your own son when a minute ago you've been screaming 'faggot' at my face?"

Greg leaned in closer with hatred in his eyes. "You think I don't know that?" he growled. "But maybe if I fuck the sin out of you, you'll finally be the son I wanted. The man I could be proud of." His hand squeezed tighter, and Kevin's vision began to dim at the edges.

In a desperate move fueled by survival instinct, Kevin brought his knee up, catching Greg in the groin with enough force to make him yelp and double over. The grip on his neck loosened just enough for him to suck in a lungful of air, and he took the opportunity to push his father away. "YOU'RE SICK, DAD! YOU'RE A SICK FUCKING PERVERT!" he hollered, his voice hoarse from the struggle.

But Greg wasn't one to be so easily deterred. He straightened up, a wild look in his eyes, and lunged back at his son. The two of them stumbled back into the room, knocking over a lamp in the process, the lightbulb shattered upon impact. "You've asked for it," Greg growled in a menacingly low tone. "You know you do. You've always wanted it." He grabbed Kevin's shoulders, pushing him onto the bed, and climbed on top of him.

The weight of his father's body was crushing, and Kevin's mind raced as he tried to formulate a plan, his thoughts swirling with fear, anger, and a strange, twisted arousal that made him feel dirty and wrong. "Get off me," he grunted, his fists clenching into the bed sheets. But Greg's weight was too much, his strength fueled by his intoxication and rage.

"You think you can fight this?" Greg's leered, his hand wrapping around the back of Kevin's neck, squeezing just enough to make him wince. "You want it rough, huh? You think you're a man now? Fine," he spat. "If you can take it from me like the faggot you are, I'll accept it. But if you can't," his grip tightened, "if you so much as whimper, we're going back downstairs to watch that film, and I'll make you like it."

Kevin's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and fear, his body tense as his father's heavy frame pinned him to the bed. He brought his hands up, pushing against his father's chest with all his might. "Dad, I'm serious! Get the fuck off me... what the actual fuck is wrong with you?" he managed to croak, his voice hoarse from the previous struggle.

He knew this night would be chaotic for him just like every other night as soon as he got home when all he wanted to do was study, but he didn't think it would become THIS chaotic... his father forcing him to watch porn to do something completely immoral with him, all in the name of 'saving' him from his homosexuality.

Greg's expression grew more crazed as he leaned in closer, his breath reeking of alcohol. "You're going to submit, since you wanna keep on bein' a fag." he growled, his voice a dark promise.

Kevin's mind raced, searching for any way out of this nightmare. "I'll do anything," he whispered desperately, his voice trembling. "Just don't do this, please."

But Greg was beyond reason, his face a mask of rage and lust as he fumbled with the button of Kevin's jeans. "Too late. You're gonna learn your place, boy... just like how that fighter taught that slut on the film, and if you wanna prove to me you're really a faggot, you will NOT back down from this, otherwise it's back to watching that film."

Kevin felt bile rising in his throat, but he knew he had to survive this. He pushed harder against his father, trying to ignore the way his cock was straining against the fabric of his pants, his mind screaming at the thought of what was about to happen. "Dad, come on, we can't do this! I'm begging you," he gasped, his eyes pleading.

Greg leaned in closer, once again ignoring his son's please as he whispered, "You're going to take it, Kevin. Take it like a man". Kevin's eyes widened in horror as Greg's free hand reached down to unbuckle his belt.

The teen had to do something, anything, to stop this madness. Summoning the last of his strength, he head-butted his father, the impact causing Greg to reel back with a grunt of pain, his grip on Kevin's neck loosening just enough for him to break free. The young man rolled off the bed, gasping for air, his heart racing like a caged animal's.

With a surge of adrenaline, Kevin managed to pin his father down on the bed, the roles suddenly and horrifically reversed. He straddled Greg's waist, his fists clenched and eyes wild with a mix of anger and fear. "What the fucking hell has gotten into you?" he yelled, his voice shaking. "You're so goddamn homophobic, you can't even stand the sight of me, and now... Now you want to do THIS to me?! You wanna RAPE YOUR OWN SON?!" He spat the words out with such ferocity that his voice cracked, his entire body trembling with the weight of the revelation.

Greg's eyes were glassy, his breathing labored, but a flicker of something akin to understanding passed through his gaze. "Kevin, I..." he started, but his voice trailed off, unable to find the words to justify his heinous actions.

Then he said it.

"... I'm sorry,"

...

To Be Continued!