Chapter Text
You had always been a ‘difficult’ kid. At least, that's what dad said.
You didn’t try to break the rules - it honestly just came naturally to you. There were countless days spent in the principal's office, detention or in your own room - grounded.
But that was nothing a little creativity couldn’t solve.
Unfortunately the last time you snuck out of your third story window you had gotten careless. Countless escapes had been made perfectly before then, but for whatever reason, your foot had slipped and caused you to fall awkwardly. You couldn’t contain the scream that left as your ankle snapped underneath your weight. Your dad came running, and you were found out.
He was a little pissed at first, but surprisingly lightened up quite a bit as he waited for your ankle to heal. Since you couldn’t escape, he started forcing a lot of father-son bonding time. There was a lot of eye-rolling on your behalf. But as far as you knew there wasn’t going to be any other punishment, which was all you could really ask for. Until your cast finally came off.
“Are you fucking kidding me!?” You yelled as dad handed you a small suitcase.
“It’s going to be good for you. You need to learn some discipline.”
The summer that was supposed to kick off your 18th birthday - your official ticket to freedom - was instead going to be spent in bum fucking nowhere Kansas, working for your grandfather.
“It’s a family tradition” your father continued, “most of the men in our family go through it. I did think we would skip you, but then….you came out. And I love you, and I see you as my son - you are my son…a-and I still was going to skip you! I was - I wanted to. I could have, if things were different. But you need this.”
“How did I get so lucky that my dad is sooooo accepting, now I have to go through some ancient bullshit just because you and your brothers did?”
“It’s because you need to learn -”
“Discipline?” you cut him off. “Seriously?”
Dad looks around awkwardly now.
“I have access to our internet records and search history, kid. I really don’t think you’ll mind it.”
You’re confused and a little concerned about what that means. But the extra locks on your windows mean there’s no getting out of it this time.
Dad still got you a cake the night before your flight. Ughhhhh god damnit.
'Happy Birthday to me' You think to yourself.
—-------
The farm was, well…
Sad. Small. Pathetic. Where fun goes to die.
There’s more to that list, but those were the main descriptors you thought of as the Uber pulled up to the long driveway, ridden with rusting ‘no trespassers’ signs. Your driver sped away the second that your luggage hit the dirt road.
Guess he wasn’t gonna stick around to see some crazy old man running up the driveway with a shotgun.
It seemed like the driveway went on forever. After a while, you thought you might actually feel more at ease getting threatened by a crazy old guy - at least you’d know there was somebody else out here. It wasn’t until the road was far off in the distance that you began to make out a small farmhouse up the road a ways.
Everything was so… plain. The only movement was a slight breeze that rustled through the corn stalks. You could walk for hours and probably not run into any other people.
When you finally arrived at the house, you knocked hesitantly at the door. Paint chips fell off onto the deck with each soft hit. You tried to be polite and waited outside for a few minutes, but you eventually just tried the rusting door knob. It was unlocked.
It was honestly…kinda cute.
The tacky, floral print couch and all of grandpa’s old woodworking projects added some nostalgia that made you feel sentimental…and suddenly a little nervous.
The last time you had seen your grandfather you were probably six years old, waving out the back window of your parents car as dad drove you to your new home in Chicago.
It was ages before you came out. And you didn’t really have high hopes that this small town old man was down with the transgenders. But what was it your dad said? This is a trial that most men in the family go through. So he must have called and told grandpa the situation. For his many faults, you knew dad wouldn’t send you somewhere dangerous. Just, somewhere incredibly boring, apparently. You noticed a note on the counter.
You could barely make out the shitty handwriting.
“Beer in the fridge. Help yourself. Be back later.”
That was more than enough permission for you. Damn, maybe this trip would actually kind of rock. Yeah you’re stuck here with an old man, but at least he’s cool with you drinking.
You waste no time cracking open one of the many cases of beer he has stocked in the fridge.
Again…you really did try to be polite. But he was gone for so long, and you were so bored.
You weren’t proud of going through as much beer as you did. It wasn’t even that fun to be drunk here, because there was nothing to do.
In your bored, drunken state, you started analyzing the old wooden floors. There were so many scratches. And you wondered about all the people who set foot in here before you. Kinda cool.
You noticed a few weird metal loops drilled into the floor. You figured it was some bullshit people used wayyyy back in the day, maybe back when great great grandpa built this house. Well whatever it was used for probably became obsolete in like the 60s haha.
Sometime after the sun went down, you heard the door creak open. You sat up abruptly, or, as abruptly as you could in your state.
He flicked on a switch and it wasn’t until now you had realized that you were sitting in the dark.
You stared at each other.
He was huge. You always remembered him being huge, but this was excessive.
He was an intimidating 6’3”, and a little under 400 pounds. You wondered how he even got overalls made in that size. The old white tee shirt he sported underneath looked almost entirely sweated through. Under the gray beard you could still tell he had big rosy cheeks. You remember joking about him being Santa Claus when you were little. You couldn’t really read his face.
“Welcome home.” he grunted out, and nodded to you
You smiled awkwardly, “Thanks grandpa. It’s nice to see you.”
“You been drinking?”
“Uhh yeah, just a little bit. I saw the note - I hope that’s okay.”
“Yeah, I figured you would. Best that way.”
“Haha yeah I agree.” You had no idea what you were agreeing to.
He set down some of the bags he had been carrying- and started going through them.
“Your dad tell you why you’re here?”
“Uh…discipline.”
“Right.”
You didn’t know what else to say. It was quiet for too long. You felt weird.
He doesn’t look at you.
Eventually, finally, he starts up again.
“Your dad says…You’re not really a hard labor kind of guy.”
You can’t help it- you laugh.
“No, I’m not a hard labor kind of guy”
“That’s okay.” He nods. He stands and finally directs his attention to you, looking you down strangely.
He continues, “Because it’s my job to teach you that, right?
You try to keep your thoughts coherent, but man you’re pretty far gone.
“Right.”
“Right. I know you had your little restaurant job, but you’ve never worked out in a field. I have to…expose you to what it's like..to be a man like that. I have to teach you what it means to... push yourself past certain limits because you have to get a job done. Do you understand that?”
“Yeah…for sure. So, this is gonna be like…bootcamp?”
He’s quiet for a moment.
“Not really. Just gonna teach you how to follow rules and work hard.”
You nod. He continues.
“Sit in front of the couch.”
“In front, like, on the floor?”
“Yeah, facing it.”
Well this is weird. But you do what he says. You almost fall flat on your ass, actually. You have to go slow getting on the ground because your motor skills are pretty much fucked right now.
He ties a blindfold around your eyes and says to be still. He attaches leather straps to your ankles and wrists, you realize he starts putting padlocks around the straps and locking them to those mental loops drilled into the floor. You start getting a little scared at this point.
What part of ‘Training with Grandpa’ requires being blindfolded and unable to move?
“Uh, grandpa-”
“Stop talking.”
“Okay.”
You heard a little more commotion in the kitchen, and some noises you didn’t recognize. You felt something tightly press against your lips and lock against the back of your head- it kept you from opening your mouth. You might have been able to guess it was a leather belt if you weren’t so impossibly freaked out right now.
You felt a presence in front of you, and you heard the sound of a beer can opening. One hand grabbed the back of your head roughly. Heavy, sweaty skin pressed up tightly against your nose. The smell made you light headed.
You could feel massive hairy legs pressing tight on either side of your head, and his large, warm cock pressing against your forehead. He held you firmly in place as he shoved his balls against your face.
You knew what was happening. You had fooled around with a guy at your high school and had some very informative, but unimpressive experiences. The shock made you tear up, and then how disgusting the situation was made you start crying even harder. This was so fucking disgusting and traumatizing and you were so incredibly turned on.
He continued like that for quite a while, holding your head roughly. You took his barrage of abuse, which eventually included him eventually rutting his cock against your nose as well.
You were particularly ashamed, disgusted and completely wet when he turned around and forced you to smell his hole as he grinded it tightly up against your nose. He kept you in that position the longest.
You lost track of time, and eventually the tears stopped. He took off your blindfold. You stared up at him. Seeing his face after that...you tried hard to control it but the tears welled up again. He sat down on the couch with his legs spread wide and looked back down at you. He guided your head to rest against his inner thigh as he stroked your hair.
“You’re okay puppy.” He said surprisingly gently, and wiped your tears away as well as he could.
“Some men need more…experimental ways of breaking the ego. Your dad and most of your uncles went through it. I know I sure as hell did, and so did my old man. You’re eighteen now, and your dad told me about all of the crazy porn you’re into. Figured it’d be better for me to break you in than some random asshole who won't do it right.”
You were still too shocked to do much. You nodded against his thigh. You didn’t even know if this was real anymore.
“That’s what hard work smells like. That’s what a working man man brings home”
You nodded again. You missed that smell. You hated how much you liked it.
He moved your head so he could scoot forward on the couch, his large, heavy balls hanging over the edge. He unclasped the belt from your head, and you took a few deep breaths of fresh air. You also hadn’t realized until now how much you had been drooling.
“Suck them for me puppy.”
You were still attached tightly to the floor, so the maneuvering was a little awkward. You eventually twisted in just the right way to rest comfortably against his leg as you took them into your mouth. You struggled to take all of them, and the taste was rancid. It was so incredibly salty, and that mixed with the hair wasn’t a pleasant combination. But you still absolutely adored it. You hated to admit, you could have stayed there all night - and you nearly did. He went through about six beers and quite a few episodes of MASH with you sucking softly and laying at his feet. You felt strangely relaxed and sleepy, like you were sucking on the worlds most perverted pacifier.
You felt yourself drifting to sleep when you heard him mumble.
“It’s bedtime puppy.”
You repositioned yourself and looked at the floor, waiting to be unlocked.
“One more thing before you go to sleep.”
You looked up and saw him holding his flaccid cock. Even soft, it was an impressive size.
“Beer goes right through me. This is your responsibility now”
You brace yourself as he guides his cock past your lips.
“Take it all.”
He closed his eyes and it took a moment, but as soon as it started your mouth flooded with an assault of warm, dark piss. It made you gag. You tried to keep up with the heavy stream but it seemed to never stop. Tears pricked your eyes, and you thought you’d throw up if it didn’t stop soon. Every few seconds was a new mouthful of the obscene liquid.
When you were sure you’d choke, the assault finally came to an end. He smacked his cock against your tongue a few times, and let the last few drops run down your face.
You were in ecstasy.
And you wondered how he felt, forcing his grandson to be his sex slave.
He slowly got down and unlocked you. Your legs were shaky from spending so much time on the ground.
He helped you walk to your bedroom, and brought in all of your stuff.
You almost started crying again when he tucked you in. He pet and kissed your forehead.
“Good job today. It’s gonna keep getting harder though.”
You nodded.
“Every day I come in from work at sundown. Naked and on your knees, mouth open. Right in front of the door when I come in.”
You nodded.
“Say ‘Yes sir’.”
“Yes sir.” You repeat back, in a voice that sounded so much younger and smaller than you did this morning.
He smiled.
“Goodnight.”