This story is erotic gay fiction and is for mature audiences only. It may contain supernatural themes, sex scenes, violence, coarse language, drug use, and other adult themes.

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Even more wishes fullfilled

by NCMC readers

Gerald was wincing as he walked back from the bathroom; some of the men in that house had been seriously hung, and at least one of them had managed to get to his backside. Even without that, Gerald must have fucked at least two dozen men earlier, and even his new endurance wasn't enough to keep him from feeling a little out of it. At least the night was cool on his bare skin.

Gerald thought to himself that it had been quite a day and wanted to see how things might have worked out they had not been disturbed by the hot blond duo now sleeping with Michael in his bed. Maybe if the hot couple had come over a little later...grabbing the amulet he wished...

If Michael was surprised by his actions beforehand, he was now horrified to find his crotch pumping back and forth, grinding the veiny shaft between Phil's buxom ass cheeks and against his son's puckered hole. The hole was never breached, but Michael was worried that it would only be a matter of time before it was. For his part, Phil was enjoying his father's administrations, and with his daddy's cock in an obvious place, Phil paid attention to his own meat, stroking it as though he'd jacked off every night since puberty. It was as though he had never been an innocent, celibate Christian boy, as his throat uttered pleasured moans and his face was one of pure ecstasy.

Gerald's cock was now tightly gripped in his hands, and was leaking a large amount of pre at the sight of Phil's body. Just a bit more, and he'd be ready to blow.

*

Gerald blinked as the rest of the day came back to him...or, what had been the rest of the day. Now it was what was, or could be...Gerald shook his head as his mind wrapped around the whole transition. He had wished to come back to this time, and he was going to enjoy it.

Gerald teased himself a little bit more, and then, when he thought it couldn't get better, Phil turned. He brought his lips to his father's face, and then...well, Gerald couldn't really see all that much, because as soon as Michael and Phil's lips began to part, Gerald slipped into a moment of weakness and came all over the computer screen, just as he envisioned it back at his old place.

Grumbling over his own inability to keep to his new fantasy, Gerald wiped the computer screen with a tissue and managed to catch the last half of the kiss. By the end, Gerald's cock was back up and dribbling again.

By the third kiss, Gerald had managed to get complete control of himself, and had brought himself to the edge multiple times without ever coming close to cumming. And he loved every moment of it. Michael, on the other hand, wasn't; the man hadn't had a worse case of blue-balls since he was a young teenager, and even THAT time wasn't anything close to what he was experiencing now. By now, Michael’s real self had crawled deep inside himself, unable to comprehend what he was doing: molesting and French kissing his youngest son, actively partaking in sexual activities while single, walking around without a stitch of clothing, and allowing Gerald, of all people, GERALD, to live with him? All that was keeping his body going was Gerald's desire for Michael to actively do these things.

Gerald was unaware of this; he was mentally counting down the time till the father and son from "earlier" would come by. He wanted to make sure they REALLY suffered this time around; both daddy and son enjoyed being fucked up the arse, and were too lost in the sexual high to realize what they were really doing.

Gerald brought himself to a stop with that thought. Was there some sadistic side of him that truly enjoyed making men suffer?

He shrugged at the thought: if he did, he did and if he didn't, he didn't. Just like his orientation, it was how he was born and that was how he was going to stay...or something like that. In any case, they should be arriving in three, two, one...

*DING* *DONG*

Gerald actually smiled as he got up, allowing himself to come back from the brink of orgasm as he put on a robe. As he entered the hallway, he caught wind of Michael’s pitiful moan, unable to cum, a sound that made Gerald's perverted smile all the more apparent.

*DING* *DONG* *DING* *DONG*

A sigh escaped Gerald's mouth as he made his way downstairs, reaching the door once more as it kept on ringing. Making sure he was presentable this time, Gerald replaced his smile with a more discrete one; these two deserved far more than what they got "last time".

Gerald gave a fake yawn as he opened the door, acting as though he'd just been woken up from a long sleep. This time, the father and son were all smiles, though Gerald could see that they were all false. Unlike the previous time, the father's voice was controlled and kind, and as fake as his expression.

"Hello sir. I know that you may be sleepy still, but all we ask is if we can have a few moments of your time to talk about the importance of proposition 478?"

"Proposition 478, what is (yawn) proposition 478?" Gerald asked, feigning another yawn while making himself look more alert, adding to the illusion that he was interested.

The father smiled. "Well, you see, proposition 478 is a request by the people, for the people, to cut out government funding for stem-cell research. This could really save a lot of money, and divert streams of funds to faith-based organization. Of course, that's only one of many profits, and, hold on, I've got a form here..."

The father quickly began searching through the wad of papers that he was carrying, each of them the same lemon yellow color. The son was eyeing Gerald up, and didn't look impressed by what he saw, his fake smile replaced by an almost smug glare.

Like before, Gerald decided not to give any mercy to the duo.

"How would you two like to come inside to discuss this?" Gerald offered, waving his hand in as he stepped back inside the house. The father's smile became an earnest grin when he saw progress before his eyes, and he ushered his son in.

"Thank you, you won't regret -I'm sorry, where are my manners? My name is Brett, and this is my son Gabriel."

The younger boy, who barely looked 18, nodded his head and begrudgingly followed his father into the house. Neither of them knew that they had signed for Gerald's special "family therapy"; Gerald certainly wasn't going to tell them.

"My name's Gerald. My clinic is closed for the day, so I decided to sleep in for a little bit. Please, make yourselves feel at home."

The three men passed by the living room, and before the two newcomers could get a look in, Gerald got a word in. "Oh, no, we're going to the kitchen. The living room is really too small for any real conversation to be comfortable. Just ignore it and everything inside." As they walked to the kitchen Brett and Gabriel couldn't help but notice the family pictures that lined the side of the hallway.

"Who are these guys?" Brett asked indignantly, pointing to a picture the Foresters recently had taken, depicting all four of the studs in little more than shorts and wife beaters, all doggy piled on top of each other in a friendly game of football. The image brought more than a few lewd ideas from Gerald's imagination, but he instead focused on the lad's filling pants; poor Gabriel, from the looks of things he wasn't quite as gifted as his father was, a very large lump forming in the older man's pants. It was rather unfortunate that they both had to come into a house where every man received an erection, whether they wanted it or not; Gerald knew that wish would be perfect for future victims.

"That's the family I live with. Really, Michael is the greatest man you could ever want to live with: a devoted Christian, a beloved father, and let’s face it, a darn good cook. It's a real shame that his wife died though, she was so lucky in her life. Gabriel, um, if I could be frank with you, why is it you're so interested in that picture?"

"I don't know, seems kind of odd for there not to be a single picture of you up here."

"And I think it's more than a little odd for someone's pants to be so tight while looking at those photographs, aren't I right Brett?"

While Gabriel was initially confused, Brett's face was one of embarrassment, scorn and shock at Gabriel. Gabriel then noticed that, yes, his pants were tight, especially around the crotch...

It was at that moment that Gabriel looked down, and discovered his rather obvious condition. His face flushed, he quickly looked to his father for help, but was unable to stutter more than a weak, "I, ah", before Gerald finished.

"Don't worry about it. We were all teenagers at one point, and we all had these problems. Teens and their hormones, eh Brett? I'm personally glad not to be back in that phase, what about you?"

Brett was, for the most part, aghast at his son, but weakly smiled at Gerald and gave a few laughs. Gabriel just glared at his father and nodded down at his father's own lump, trying to point out their mutual problem, but Brett was oblivious to his own lump. Gerald smiled and beckoned that the two follow him; though he couldn't see behind himself, he knew that he had just opened up a very interesting venue for the two, especially if "daddy" got upset over his son's "hormones".

When the three arrived at the kitchen, Brett was looking far from his happy self-back at the door. Gerald waved the two men to one end of the table, and sat down at the other end. Not without some discomfort, both father and son complied, fidgeting every so often to get comfortable, and from their mutual embarrassment. Gerald silently wished that both men would feel increasingly hornier until they were on the brink. He'd already made a wish opening the four Foresters men to his suggestions, but he now found cause to expand it and also wished that anyone in this house or on the Forester's property were similarly open to his suggestions and absorbed whatever he said as the voice of truth and reason, and that any such person would similarly answer Gerald's questions truthfully.

Somewhat awkwardly, Brett shifted the papers in his hands, which he had been gripping for the last leg of the walk. "Well, now that we're all here, properly, lets go over the details of the program, shall we?"

Gerald didn't think so. "Actually Brett, I was wondering if we could discuss you and your son's relationship with each other. It looks like you two might have some issues to iron out."

Brett looked dumbfounded by what Gerald was saying, and when he opened his mouth to refuse, Gerald held up his hand and interrupted. "Now, I know what you're thinking, this guy's off his rocker and needs to take his medication. However, I assure you both that I am a highly recommended, well trained therapist dealing with dysfunctional families, and from what I can see, both of you are one moment away from total disaster. Now, Brett, would you kindly address what issues you have with your son?" For some reason, both father and son found this to be absolute truth.

Of course, everything Gerald said a complete and total lie. However, now that he'd told Brett to talk, there wasn't anything to be done.

Obviously uncomfortable with the new subject at hand, Brett once again started to shift the forms he'd brought in with him, this time with greater urgency, and Gabriel started to get up, ready to leave the house at a moment's notice. This was swiftly dealt with:

"Now Brett, I know that your son is in the same room as you -Gabriel, sit down and listen to all that your father and I have to say- but you have to say all that you find troubling and irritating about your son. Gabriel, I know that this isn't the sort of thing that you'd want to hear, but you have to quietly sit there while your father and I talk. Don't forget, we'll be talking also about your issues with Brett, so sit tight and try to think of any issues needing to be dealt with."

Reluctantly, Gabriel went back to his seat in the kitchen. Then Brett started speaking: "Well, you see, lately Gabriel hasn't been doing his fair share around the house. Ever since my wife left me, he has been lounging around the house, and he hasn't been praying to our lord and savior when he should be. He is lazy, unmotivated and quite frankly, I'm tired of being blamed by everyone for mistreating Gabriel when I am doing my best to make him happy. Gabriel doesn't appreciate all the hard work I have to do around the house, and I only want him to be successful and happy in life in return."

Gerald had turned his eyes away from Brett during the explanation, trying not to look too bored, and focused them on Gabriel. The boy had a nice face but wasn't especially handsome, and the scowl on the boy's face didn't exactly help.

"Well, thank you for telling me that Brett. Now, it's Gabriel's turn."

Gabriel straightened up in his seat, fixed his eyes on Gerald, as if he could intimidate the older man, and started speaking:

"Quite simply, my dad is an uptight, contradictory busy-body who wasn't there for mom, couldn't make her happy and is certainly NOT trying to keep my future up like he said he is. Mostly, he just works at his computer at home and tells me to pray when I eat, drink and do my business in the bathroom. That's it, nuff said."

Brett looked just as flabbergasted at his son as he did earlier, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly.

"Thank you for sharing that with us, Gabriel. Now, Brett, tell me why your wife left you. Or, at least, what she told you why she left you."

Brett's face went beat red, and he looked at Gerald as if to tell him to get lost in the woods, but did as he was told.

"She, she told me that I wasn't there for her, that I never thought of her needs and simply lased around at home. I kept insisting, though, that it's not my fault that I have erectile dysfunction, but she wouldn't listen!"

Gabriel frowned at this.

"What are you talking about? You're popping a boner as we speak!"

"What..." Brett started, but once he looked down, he realized that Gabriel was right!

"Well, that's an interesting fact. Sit here, you two, I'm going to pour myself some coffee. Stay quiet, and don't look back or listen for any reason what-so-ever"

In truth, the coffee in the pot was long cold, and Gerald wasn't much of a drinker himself, but he needed to think hard about what he was going to do to the pair. As he paced through the small kitchen area, the father and son's backs to him, Gerald gave his now straining cock a few gropes, and he listed what he knew: the father was now single, he had a son, and he worked at home. Brett thought his son was lazy and unmotivated, while Gabriel thought of his father as a man who was more into his work that his family. That was more than what he needed to work with.

Returning with a deceptive cup of coffee, stone cold of course, Gerald sat back in his chair and gravely took his glasses off. Only Gabriel seemed to notice, though, as Brett was too busy feeling his erection through the leg of his pants, trying to wrap his head around why he was even feeling it. Gerald cleared his throat to get the father's attention.

"Awfully quick for a cup of coffee", Gabriel obnoxiously said, and was about to continue when his father smacked him on the shoulder.

"Quiet you. So, um, Gerald, what do we do? I mean, is there come kind of group therapy or something that we should attend? And, if there's any kind of fee, I'm sure that we can pay for it."

Gerald held up his hand. "No, no, there aren't any groups that I can assign you two to, but there is some advice I can give you. Oh, and you won't have to worry about a fee, this is on the house."

Brett smiled and flipped a form over, using it in place for a notepad. "You wouldn't mind if I write this down, would you?" Gerald's smile came back, and he replaced his glasses on his face.

"No, of course not. Now, both of you are going to have to listen very carefully to me, and do exactly as I say, if you want to be a fully functioning family. Will you do everything exactly as I tell you?"

"Of course", Brett replied. He nudged his son with his elbow. "Yeah, I will." Gabriel solemnly replied.

"Great! Now, here's what's going to happen; no interruptions, please, just sit and listen. Gabriel, whenever you get home from school, you'll immediately get to work around the house, cleaning the house, washing the clothes, cooking the food, and making sure your father doesn't need anything. Once dinner is finished, you'll go to your room and do your homework. While you're inside the house, you'll wear as little as possible while still being decent, unless told otherwise."

"Brett, you'll still work at home, but you'll need to do some heavy work, and maybe a bit of working out, about an hour or so every four days out of a week. Remember, you absolutely need to become as strong as an ox; don't worry, you aren't going for your figure, just strength. However, you're not to use any sort of drugs to help you along."

The expressions on both Brett and Gabriel's faces were more than enough motivation for Gerald to continue.

"Gabriel, from now on you will whole-heartedly do as your father says while still adhering to your household duties. During bath time, you will share your father's water and help wash him. You will make sure he is completely clean before you start cleaning yourself, and only if he says you can. When you are done with both your homework and your household duties, you'll learn how to cook, clean and pleasure your father better until you need to go to sleep or Brett needs you for something."

"Brett, as long as you can see your son, you'll think of ways that he can make you feel better. You'll critique his cooking if you find the slightest problems with it, cuff him if you find him doing something wrong, and will take advantage of him if you feel sexually hungry. Oh don't give me that look, I know that you're sexually inactive. That's why I'm giving you a gift; Brett, I wish that as long as you live, you'll never have problems with your dick or sex drive. I also wish that you'll physically desire your son's body, and have a sex drive that will rival the horniest teenager's. Also, you must never think of your wife again, or any other woman sexually."

"Gabriel, no matter what your father does, you can never even think of anything bad about him, as he's the perfect example of a man, a father and a lover. No woman, girl, or guy can compare to your father; however, if you find a man who reminds you of your father, even a little, you'll be desperate to have sex with him. When you finish high school, I want you to find a job for the night hours and take care of your father during the day hours. To help you, I wish that you would nap during you time off and feel rejuvenated when you wake up."

When Gerald had finished, Brett and Gabriel were looking mortified, cross, and enraged, all at the same time.

"And now, so that I won't waste anymore of your time, I'm going to wish that you two were back at your home with no memory of being here. Before I do though, I'll need some form of payment; I know I said I'd do this for free, but I lied. Hand over all your cash, and I wish that half the money in your bank accounts were in mine and that no one will think that anything is wrong with this. I wish that you two were back at home without any memory of this. Oh, and I wish that proposition 478 was for giving gays and lesbians more rights than straight people, and that it would be passed and enforced with flying colors for, oh, say, a hundred years"

The shocked duo looked as though they were about to say something, when a slight popping sound occurred. In Gabriel and Brett's place sat a few coins and a small stack of bills, all from the pockets of the newly "helped" family. Though Gerald didn't bother to count, the amount came up to $1,192.03, all of which was going to be deposited in the father and son's much smaller banking accounts. Gerald simply gathered it up and stowed it into a plastic bag; perfect spending money.

*

Not long after Brett and Gabriel were sent home to their new life, Gerald felt a small tingle at the back of his mind; it was as though he was forgetting something important. What could it be?

------------

Upstairs, Michael was finding it hard to stand on his own two feet, and his thrusts were getting more and more savage, pushing Paul into the shower wall. He was feeling incredibly desperate for some kind of release, but he couldn't muster enough air to call for Gerald.

------------

He shrugged as he dumped the coffee into the sink. Seeing the liquid spiral down the drain made Gerald realize, however, that he didn't need to waste the coffee; he could use it for far "better" purposes.

There was a knock at the door. Opening the door Gerald was surprised to see Tyler, Phil's studly best friend, standing there. At 5'8 with green eyes and red hair, he had a body toned by athletics. Indeed, he and Phil had become friends playing soccer as kids in the local Little League.

Gerald seeing his chance to have some more fun at the expense of the hot young hunk in front of him immediately started rubbing his necklace, "I wish that Tyler would do anything that I tell him to and that every time he follows my orders he will become even more aroused," and then feeling particularly vindictive he added, "Tyler will also feel increased temperature until he cant stand it anymore and will rip his clothes from his body which will completely mortify him but is the only way that he can cool down."

Finishing his wishes Gerald ordered Tyler to the living room and to sit on the couch. Tyler entered the doorway and began making his way to the living room as instructed, his cock growing with each step deeper into the home. Tyler realized this, and would have blushed for himself but became distracted from his own problem and blushed instead at finding Chris lying on the couch naked and fondling his cock. Although embarrassed and wanting to ignore Chris and go elsewhere, Tyler had been commanded to sit on the living room couch, so he entered the room anyway.

Gerald, following behind Tyler, realized that in his haste, he'd just sent Tyler into the living room, where Chris was still infatuated with the taste of eating his pre-cum. Like Michael in the shower, Chris was no doubt developing a bad case of blue balls, so he decided to use Tyler to give him some "relief". He made a mental note to consider wishing away blue balls in this house in the future, but perhaps now it could play to his advantage.

"I wish that once Tyler gets to the couch he will work up the courage to ask Chris what he's doing, but not before he get's so 'hot' that he has to take off everything but his underwear. When Tyler asks him what he's doing on the couch, Chris will matter-of-factly explain his newfound love for the taste of cum without embarrassment or any inkling that Tyler may find such a thing as shocking as he finds Chris masturbating in front of him. Chris will outline his developing blue ball dilemma in trying to get more cum from his own cock to eat and taste. Any of Tyler's mental shock will be increasingly overcome by his arousal at the disclosure, his horniness increasing with each piece of clothes he removes because of the 'heat'. Indeed, he will blame the unnatural heat on his increasing horniness."

This whole "no one can cum in this house till I say" wish as turning into a slight logistical problem: He couldn't watch the four Forrester guys and all their houseguests at once. And what about during that orgy-that-now-never-happened? If he had future orgies then no one would cum until he said took the time to focus his attention and allow it. And, Michael and Phil had been stuck for a long time in the bedroom, and without permission neither could cum, leaving Phil with sore lips and a bad case of blue balls. And, Chris was still in the living room pumping precum out of his cock. No doubt he hadn't cum yet either, since Gerald hadn't been around to give permission. So, he decided to slightly alter his previous wish.

"I wish that I could have mental control of all men's cum in this house that I choose to observe and/or participate in and that any specific directions, suggestions, or time limits regarding when to cum or not to cum be observed by those the orders are given to. However, where there is any sexual action going on that I have not decided to directly observe and control, the men will cum naturally as they so desire."

However, even if Gerald "missed" some action in the house, he wanted to be able to review such events later for his own pleasure and satisfaction.

"I also wish that video cameras similar to those set up in the bathroom shower and now hooked to my computer were set up all over the house. Except in my own private room, and around the backyard and swimming pool, all cameras will be invisible to any eye but mine. I also wish that my computer had an infinite memory without taking up any more physical space, and that my video program will automatically control all cameras so that they will only record when a room has someone present in them. However, my computer's video program will analyze all video recorded and edit out any mundane and nonsexual activities and keep a record of them. It will also categories each sex video by room and participants for easy search and review at a time of my choosing."

Then, he had another brilliant idea to help him 'manage' everything that was going on.

"I also wish I had a psionic connection to the video system that will allow me to "tune in" in my mind to any "active" room at any time and from any place, including outside the house and off the property."

Now, as far as the Forester's were concerned, he had become the embodiment of Big Brother, capable of observing everything on the property, even if he decided to leave for a bit. It also meant that if there were unanticipated developments he could react quickly.

It took Gerald a minute to realize that he may be reading too much superhero porn: though his wish had sounded smart in his head, when he said it out loud, it did feel a bit silly. Never-the-less, it wasn't something he felt he needed to correct.

He used his new mental-electronic connection to his computer-camera system to 'tune in' to Michael and Phil in the shower. He'd suggested that they take a long, thirty-minute one, but between making Bobby a stud, intervening in Brett and Graham's 'deteriorating' father-son relationship, and now Tyler's random appearance to see Phil, he'd missed the whole thing. He'd wished for Phil to always jerk a dick off to completion and had allowed 'natural' cumming in men not currently under Phil's direct observation, so as the pair had reached the end of the thirty minutes Gerald had suggested, Michael had obviously finally cum. But Gerald was too late to see the climax because as an image of bathroom appeared in his mind, he saw Phil finishing washing up some of his father's cum from his legs, as Michael stood overhead, red-faced and embarrassed at having just gotten off from his son's expert hand.

"You'd think he wouldn't be so embarrassed by a simple hand job, after he's already having Phil suck him off and eat his load," Gerald thought. However, Gerald hardly cared; indeed, watching Michael's mental squirms as Gerald slowly lowered him into a dark sinful pit of homosexual lust and incest was both hilarious and highly erotic. Still, he watched as the two of them toweled off and separately left the restroom. Gerald observed as the two went back to doing what they had been before Gerald's wish for Michael to give Phil some 'discipline', though Michael now had a distinct limp in his gait and was headed for his own bedroom. And, Bobby was still fooling around the pool, though Gerald could see that he'd now decided to lay in the sun to get a nice tan on his now stud like body. So, for the moment, Gerald was free to focus on Tyler and Chris in the living room.

However, when he mentally tuned in to the living room he saw that Tyler sat unsuccessfully trying to avoid looking at Chris rubbing precum out of his cock on the other end of the couch. He'd been ordered to sit on the couch, which was where Chris had been lying while jerking off, so Chris had been forced to sit up at the other end when Tyler haltingly told him that Gerald had told him to sit on the couch, hinting to the blond-haired wrestler that he needed to move.

While Gerald waited on Tyler to get hot enough to get down to his underwear and get the courage to pop the question to Chris, Gerald decided to take care of a few things he hadn't quite got around to yet. While he'd already wished himself a 10-inch cock with a near-endless supply of cum, whose erection and cumming he could control, and wished some fixes to a few genetic defects as with his vision, he hadn't yet made any wishes about his overall body and look, mostly because he was having trouble deciding. But, having made Bobby into an Adonis with a build perfect for swimming, Gerald was becoming impatient to make similar improvements to himself. And, with Bobby ordered to come to his room tonight, Gerald wanted to look his best by then. He hadn't really come to a decision on what look he wanted yet, but with a reality-altering amulet, he could go with his first instinct, and if he didn't like it he could always go with something else. But, he suddenly had a brilliant thought of a wish that would serve all his needs, one that might come in useful later in any number of circumstances. He'd been thinking about some other bodily wishes, too, so decided to incorporate them into one comprehensive wish.

"I wish that my body was perfectly fit and toned no matter how much or little I eat or exercise. I wish my body was invulnerable to any physical harm or disease. Finally, I wish to have the ability to transform and painlessly shape-shift into any human form and figure, including the ability to change my hair style, color, and texture. No matter what look I decide to take, I will always be recognized as Gerald by those who know me and they will not realize or think anything of the fact that my look may have altered completely. However, when I copy the look of an existing person, I will be recognized as that person by all who know that person and they will not realize that I am Gerald, even in the face of the 'real' person copied showing up at the same time in the same room."

He watched as his former flaps of fat disappeared and were replaced by perfectly toned muscle. His man-tits became perky pecs, his cheeky jowls a chiseled jaw line, and his abbs became visible, if not defined. He mentally focused and "saw" himself through the video cams in the room so that he could check out his backside, which was now a perfectly grab-able bubble butt. His "sight"shifted upwards and a tousled full head of jet black hair emerged with a thought, turning into the tight dreadlocks he'd always loved to have, and his formerly unremarkable brown eyes shifted to two pools of captivating crystalline blue. He broadened his shoulders, slightly increased his height to 6'0 and shifted his skin color to a perpetually-tanned coal black, a tone he'd never had the genetics to have. Gerald hardly recognized himself, now that he could see himself from every angle he wanted. He then made a few quick, though specific, changes to his body, removing a mole from his temple and all the acne he could find.

While making wishes about bodies, he also thought about the problems that had occurred when Michael and Phil had been left alone unable to cum: Phil's lips became puffy and sore looking, and Michael's dick became extremely sensitive and chafed. So, if there were going to be perpetual hard-ons and lots of sex, some minor adjustments seemed warranted.

"I also wish that any bodily damage, wounds, rawness, or similar harm that occurs in this house that is caused by the rubbing or thrusting of a man's cock will instantly heal, including both harm to the cock or the body the cock is using...unless I specifically exempt a person from such benefit and protection." The last part about exemptions he'd almost not included, but suddenly realized that there might be some guys he wanted to mete out a measure of 'punishment' to, punishment whose pain he didn't want to heal. He'd also specifically limited it to harm caused by a cock, so as to exclude intended pain or 'damage' caused by, for example, slapping a bottom's hot ass while fucking it. Some future gangbang subject would likely thank him for that wish, if he ever learned Gerald had made it, he thought. And, Phil should certainly thank him for it, as his sore cock-sucking lips should now be healed, and Michael’s limp should be gone too. Later, Gerald decided he'd make sure Phil did thank him properly!

But, as he contemplated how to do so, he realized that, although his shirt and sandals were gone, Tyler was obviously resisting pulling off his cargo pants, despite sweating profusely all over his end of the couch. Tyler was obviously embarrassed by his bulge and his increasing arousal at watching Chris jack off and eat precum. Gerald was still standing in the foyer near the front door where he'd first let Tyler in and almost went into the living room to help move things along. But, he decided his sudden appearance might give Tyler something other than Chris to focus on and someone else to be embarrassed in front of.

Gerald got an evil grin as he wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. "I wish that along with video cameras, each room and outside camera location was installed with an intercom system that will relay my spoken words at will from any location to any particular room in the house, to the whole house at once, as I so choose, or to any area of the property outside the house. However, no one will consciously hear or recognize my voice, but my suggestions or commands will be no less effective and will be accepted as the person's own thoughts and rationalizations. Additionally, should I decide to ask any direct questions via the intercom, no one will take notice or remember any verbal responses by the object of my questions. Last, no one around me will think anything odd should I appear to be talking to myself while speaking over the intercom to another location nor think or remember anything of what I say." Such a wish would have been equally useful in the shower earlier with Phil and Michael, but there would no doubt be other shower scenes to manipulate.

For now though, Gerald realized he could retire to his own private room and jerk of leisurely in own comfy bed while "watching" and directing the scene in the living room unfold through the mental connection in his head. As he walked toward his room, however, he was already setting to work, giving his first command over the intercom system.

"Tyler, why don't you take off your shorts? You are so hot and sweaty..."

"Because I'm embarrassed by my erection," Tyler replied honestly to the voice in his head. Gerald noted that Chris made no notice that Tyler had said anything.

"Tyler, you shouldn't be embarrassed. You are both just guys, right? Chris knows what you have, and he's giving you the full Monty already. He's hardly going to protest when he's sitting there jerking off."

Tyler's face seemed to think for a moment before lifting up his ass to pull off his cargo shorts, as he "explained" to Chris that he was lucky to already be naked because of all the 'heat' in here. Then, Tyler was left in just his tighty whities, which were even tighter with a nice 7 1/2 inch rigid bulge pressing toward his waistband. Tyler's skin was fair and mostly hairless, except for his armpits and cock, which matched his strawberry red locks of hair. Tyler was not built like Chris the wrestler, but was nicely toned and attractive nonetheless. As Gerald reached his bedroom, the rest of his was kicking in, as Tyler's arousal increasingly brought his attention back to Chris's schlong and Chris's ongoing jerk off and cum-tasting session.

"Chris, why are you sitting there naked jerking your cock?"

"Well, I've discovered that I really like the taste of my cum and precum," Chris said matter-of-factly. "I can't seem to get enough of the stuff." Although Tyler's faced expressed revulsion at the idea of eating cum, his dick became even more rigid, if that was possible, now partially lifting up the waistband of his underwear and threatening to peek out of its own volition. Chris continued on, however.

"The trouble is, though, I haven't been able to cum yet, its getting longer and longer between good drops of precum, and I have developed a serious case of blue balls."

Gerald by now was lying on his bed jerking off his 10-inch cock. Looking at his hands he decided they were too small for his new piece of meat, so he shifted his hands into a wider, sexier version, perfect for taking a firm hold of any cock or a firm grip of someone's hips as they pulled an ass into Gerald's enlarged fuck tool.

Tyler had been considering Chris's dilemma as the heat continued to increase for him. Gerald felt his sexy hands, empowered by his now-firm muscles, as the pleasured his own massive dick. But, now that he was here, he began to intervene more in the scene.

"Tyler, you should take off your undies. It is still SO very hot, and since Chris is talking 'gay' stuff like eating cum, maybe seeing your hard cock will help him out. You do want to help out your friend Phil's older brother don't you?"

Tyler seemed to come to some decision in his mind. "Well, Chris, I'm still hot, and I don't know whether this will help, but maybe seeing my cock will help you cum?"

"What a great idea, Chris!" Gerald suggested. "Nothing wrong with two guys helping each other out with their problems. You help Tyler with the heat, and he can help you cum. Win win, Chris! And, you do want to get rid of those blue balls and taste cum again, don't you, Chris?"

"Yes," Chris said in response to Gerald's question. "I want to taste cum again so bad." Chris turned to Tyler. "Go ahead and take off your undies. I don't mind. Maybe it'll help us both." Tyler immediately complied, removing his undies and freeing his rigid dick. As soon as his undies were off, the 'heat' finally dissipated, but Tyler's arousal increased, as his cock was fully exposed to Phil's older brother's ongoing gaze. Now that he was completely naked, Tyler seemed to throw embarrassment out the window and slowly, tentatively began jerking his own cock along with Chris. Soon, though, the inevitable happened: a drop of precum appeared at the end of Tyler's bulging, angry cockhead.

Chris's eyes immediately locked on it, but Chris's interested expression turned to regret as Tyler began rubbing the drop of precum into his cockhead for additional lube.

"Chris, your cock isn't the only one capable of producing cum and precum. You have an ample supply to taste right next to you, if Tyler will let you have it," Gerald suggested. "Maybe you should ask."

"Uhm, Tyler, err... I don't want this to sound gay or anything, but... uhm... would you mind if I tasted your precum?" Chris asked haltingly. At Tyler's sudden sharp look in his direction, Chris tried to explain. "It's just I like it so much, and I can't cum yet, and I'm running out of precum myself, and..."

Given the look of revulsion on Tyler's face to Chris's suggestion, Gerald thought it might be best to intervene a bit.

"Tyler, do you have any problem with allowing Chris to taste your cum?"

"Yes," Tyler said to the voice in his head. "That's totally gay, and my girlfriend Anna would not approve."

"Has Anna ever given you a blowjob? Has anyone?" Gerald inquired.

"No. Not Anna, she thinks it's degrading. Nor anyone else."

"Well," Gerald suggested, "here's your chance! Anna's not going there anytime soon, and here's a guy sitting next to you almost begging for it. You find that hot, don't you, to have someone begging to eat your cum?"

Tyler realized that he WAS very aroused watching Chris jerk off and slurp up his own precum. His ever hardening dick was testament to that much, at least. And, thinking about Chris eating his cum had him so hard that he could see his cock pulse in time with his own increasing heartbeat. As this realization became evident, Tyler answered Gerald's voice. "Yeah, I do think it's hot when someone wants my cum."

"However, you are not gay, are you Tyler?"

"No," Tyler said confidently.

"Well, then as long as you stay top dog here, YOU haven't done anything 'gay,' have you? If Chris eats your cum, that's HIM being gay, not you."

"Yes, that's HIM being gay not me." Tyler said softly, almost as if answering an internal argument with himself.

"So, to keep your confidence in your 'straightness,' you have to make sure you are in control of the situation, that you only do what males normally do: get your rocks off however you can. You want to cum any way you can, like any normal red-blooded male, don't you, Tyler?"

"Yes," Tyler said, "I want to cum. It's what men do."

"Then, why do you care if some confused fag wants to get you off and take your load? That only makes him gay, not you."

"That only makes him gay, not me," Tyler repeated softly.

"So, let's take control of this situation and use it to your advantage, like any dominant straight male should when faced with a fag boy begging for his load," Gerald suggested. "Let's not just give him our cum too easily. If he really wants it, you should make him work for it, make him prove how badly he wants it."

Tyler developed an evil grin on his face, as Gerald's suggestions finally coalesced into a plan in Tyler's head, one Tyler believed was entirely his own.

"Well, Chris, you are my friend's brother, so I'm willing to help you out, here," Tyler said. "But, if you really want my cum and precum, then you're going to have to work for it: You will have to suck it out of my dick yourself."

A look of revulsion at doing such a "gay" thing as sucking dick was repulsive to Chris and his protest was instantaneous. "B-b-but, Tyler, I'm not gay, I just want to taste your cum. I don't want to suck you off, dude."

"That's the price, Chris. You want my cum, then come over here, kneel down in front of me and take your fag-mouthed fill." Tyler waived his rigid dick for emphasis, as if to say "here it is, if you really want it."

Gerald saw the conflict on Chris's face. The guy was twenty and had no doubt had any number of girlfriend's by now, and believed himself straight since he'd had satisfying sex with several of them. His wrestler's build was definitely attractive to both men and women, but he'd never had reason to doubt his heterosexuality. Gerald helped move Chris's thought process along.

"Are you worried you might be gay, Chris?" Gerald asked.

"No," Chris replied honestly, "but I do want to taste his cum."

"Maybe you like cum because you are gay, Chris. Isn't that a possibility?"

"I... I don't think so..." Chris said haltingly.

"Maybe not, but this is a new love you've found here. You owe it to yourself to explore these feelings fully. Tyler will allow you to continue your exploration if you meet his condition. So, why not let him?"

"If I suck his dick, Tyler will think I'm gay for sure, and will tell other people about it," Chris said aloud to the conflicting voices in his head. "Plus, it's a sin for a guy to suck another guy..."

Gerald was frustrated by Chris's conservative upbringing showing, but worked on Chris's thoughts some more to mitigate that fact.

For Chris's concern with "sin," Gerald decided an outright wish was in order. "I wish that Chris and all the Forester boys, but especially Chris, had secretly lost faith with their church and religion after the tragic death of their mother, Marsha. Their actions since have been mostly been the result of following their father's routine and expectations. As a result, notions of sin or other religious prohibitions will no longer factor strongly into any of their decision making."

Handling the rest of Chris's concerns, he directed his voice again through the intercom. "Ask Tyler to promise not to tell anyone, including Phil, and it will be okay. You can trust Tyler. He's one of Phil's oldest friends. And, as long as he agrees not to tell anyone, what do you care if he thinks you're gay? As long as he let's you taste his sweet cum."

Tyler sat looking at Chris and waiving his cock around expectantly, while Chris seemed (to him at least) to grapple with a decision and come to a conclusion. "You promise you won't tell anybody, Tyler? If I do it, I mean...Not even Phil?"

A brief look of indecision from Tyler, but Gerald was already on it.

"You have him now, Tyler!" Gerald said. "You are in control, a macho straight man with a hard dick that needs attention. All you have to do is say you 'promise' and you'll have your own personal cocksucker!" As Gerald's logic dawned on Tyler, a smirk appeared on Tyler's face.

"I promise I won't tell, fagwad. Now, come suck this dick for my cum."

Chris hesitated, but now that Tyler had accepted his "terms" for confidentiality, he didn't really have a good excuse to back out of the deal now. To add further encouragement, Tyler had managed to milk out a new, shimmering drop of precum, which sat tantalizingly above Tyler's cock slit as he held his cock at the base above his strawberry red bush of pubic hair.

"You want it, cumsucker? Then, come and get it."

Salivating over the droplet, Chris soon found himself on his knees in front of Tyler's naked, his eyes fixed on the precum droplet, which was now flattening and threatening to run down one side of Tyler's shaft.

Gerald decided to help Chris along with his transition from cum-eater to cock sucking cum-eater. "Look at that cock and balls, Chris." Chris focused less on the cum and took in the sight of Tyler's whole package, from his thick 7.5 inches down to the moderately-sized balls hanging between his spread legs. "You realize that this cock and any cock is basically a cum factory and delivery system. You know that if you learn how to work that factory it will produce all the cum and precum you could ever want."

"All the cum I could ever want..." Chris whispered, as if in a daze.

"That's right, Chris. You want to please a man with a cock so he will give you his sweet cum and let you taste it. The more you please him the bigger the load he might give you, and the more you please and obey, the more likely the man might let you come back for more. And you always want more cum."

"...Want to taste it..." Chris whispered. "Always want more." Chris began moving his hand along Tyler's muscular thighs, which were lightly dusted with red hair, until he reached Tyler's cock and balls. Grabbing the base of Tyler's dick with his own hand prompted Tyler to release his organ to Chris's 'care'. Tyler put his hands behind his head, planning to sit back and relax and think about hot chicks he knew sucking his cock, like he thought any upstanding straight boy should when about to get sucked off by some cock-hungry faggot. Chris pointed the rigid member towards his mouth, and his eyes once again focused on that drop of tasty, precious precum. The precum began to collect as a drop on Tyler's cockhead, and very nearly dropped to the floor. But Chris couldn't allow that to happen. So, he licked the drop off Tyler's cock head, instantly feeling the satisfying taste of Tyler's fresh precum burst into his mouth. What's more, Gerald had already previously wished for the Foresters to find any sexual acts with another male to be the greatest experience ever, so as the taste of that one drop began to subside, Chris began to realize something else: The silky feel of Tyler's cock on his tongue was nice, even intoxicating, and soon he was lavishing tongued praise all over Tyler's cock and balls, while using his hand at the base to coax out more precum for his eager mouth. Tyler moaned and thrust his hips to meet Chris's mouth, while trying to maintain his dominant position by talking to the 'girls' he envisioned sucking his dick in his head.

"That's it, bitch. Lick those balls... Swallow that cock... Mmmm.. yeah, cock slut, you want that load bad, don't you...."

Of all the Forester boys, Chris had never been Gerald's favorite as far as personalities. In that way, Chris was most like his father, Michael. And now, making him into a raging cumslut cocksucker gave Gerald a particular erotic thrill. So, Gerald began hatching a plan to take this even further for Chris and for his own erotic pleasure.

"I wish that Chris had an oddly long (but not unnaturally long) tongue that is perfectly shaped for lapping up cum off bodies or digging cum out of someone's hole. Any woman who sees it will think about how nice it would feel in her pussy, any straight man or gay top will think how great it would feel wrapped around their cock, and any gay bottom will think about how great it would feel rimming and tongue fucking their horny hole. I also wish that this tongue develops a taste for cum, being able to tell subtle differences between different men and capable of identifying by taste the man who produced any cum once he has first associated such a particular cum-taste with a particular person. I wish Chris had very sexy, very kissable lips that look enticing sliding up and down a man's dick. I wish his thick wrestler's neck contained a wide throat with absolutely no gag reflex, made perfect for deep-throating even the longest, thickest cock to the hilt. I wish his throat muscles were developed to pleasurably milk the cocks he swallows, and that his jaw muscles will never tire from sucking dick. I wish that he would have unlimited saliva which will be as good a cock lubricant as any substance on the market. Finally, I wish that Chris have powerful lungs that give him both great suction and tremendous endurance should he have to go any extended period of time without breathing due to a constant cock assault on his mouth and throat. Oh, and any changes to Chris's appearance due to his new lips and tongue will go unnoticed, and everyone who knows him will remember him as always looking as he does now."

Having created what he believed to be a man perfectly made for cock sucking, Gerald then had another idea, and with a wicked smile decided to add a couple more things. "Also, I wish that Chris' nose was keenly attuned to the smell of undried cum. Any wet cum he smells in a room will be intoxicating and draw him to it, where he will savor devouring every drop. However, he will always prefer fresh cum from a man's cock when it is available."

Gerald then focused on stroking his 10 inches while he watched Chris, now transformed, bob up and down on Tyler's shaft, slobbery sucking sounds and moans from both Tyler and Chris filling the room. Gerald decided to allow the two boys to cum whenever they were ready this time. The blow job from Chris was simply too good, and Tyler too inexperienced, for the situation to last long, and soon Tyler grabbed Chris by the back of his head and made one final thrust of his hips off the couch as he came with several loud grunts.

"Yeah, that's right, take it bitch, eat my load, cumwhore..."

As soon as he tasted the load in his mouth, Chris moaned in ecstasy as his own 8-inches shot a wad on the floor in front of the couch. However, he remained locked onto Tyler's dick until it was apparent no more cum was forthcoming. He then pulled off.

"Thanks, Tyler, I really needed that. I needed to cum so bad, and you're cumming in my mouth was so hot, it did the trick." Chris's thanks sounded very sincere.

"No doubt, fag boy," Tyler said as Chris moved to the floor, where the intoxicating smell of his own cum was already drawing him. "What, now are you going to eat your own faggot load up, too??" Tyler asked derisively. In answer, Chris began making what were obvious lapping sounds as he licked up every drop from the floor. Watching him lick up his own cum from the floor and thinking about the great head he'd just gotten, Tyler's arousal was increasing again, despite the fact that he'd just come. His cock was still slick with Chris's saliva-lube and he began lightly stroking it as he watched Chris finish up. This didn't go unnoticed by Chris.

"Tyler, are you going to cum again?"

"Yeah, I think I can squeeze you out another load, cock slut, but this time I want to put it in the other end."

Gerald was happily surprised to see that Tyler seemed to be taking his suggestions and running with it. He wanted to be the dominant, top alpha male in control, and there were few better ways to show a 'bitch' who's boss than to give them a good, hard fucking. Gerald, however, hadn't planned on getting Chris to bottom so soon, but since he hadn't cum yet himself, he made a snap decision to go with it. Gerald began reinforcing a few particular commands for the unfolding scene.

"Tyler, you get off on being a dominant male, don't you? Now that you've made this faggot your cumslut, you want to do what dominant males do: fuck and breed a hot, slippery bitch's hole. And you won't take 'no' for an answer from someone whose already proven that they are a faggot for your dick and cum, someone whose already shown that they are your bitch."

"Fuck and breed..." Tyler repeated softly, as he continued rubbing the saliva-lubricant over his dick. "Won't take 'no' from some faggot bitch."

Tyler aggressively grabbed Chris by the arm and tried to pull him back up onto the couch. However, Chris was a heavy, muscled wrestler, and this was no easy task. The look of conflict on Chris's face was apparent, but Gerald intervened before he could voice any objection or pose much resistance to Tyler.

"Chris, you know you want to please a man's cock, and you have to obey to please him and get his load."

"Must obey to please..." Chris repeated as his resistance to Tyler's pull lessened. However, Tyler was in no mood for waiting for his 'bitch' to comply and came down onto the floor with Chris, whom he pushed chest-down onto the couch, while his knees were on the floor, effectively presenting his well-worked wrestler's ass melons for Tyler's inspection.

"Are you sure you really need to fuck my ass to cum again?" Chris said plaintively, clearly still hoping in his heart of hearts that this penetration wasn't going to happen. Gerald made another suggestion to Tyler.

"I don't fuck 'ass,' faggot. I'm straight, so I only fuck a bitch's pussy." Tyler tapped a wet finger at the door to Chris's hole. "Now, you are clearly a bitch, but is this your ass or your cock-hungry cunt?"

Gerald realized that Tyler had given Chris an out: if he said it was an ass, Tyler would refuse to fuck it since 'straight' guys never do such things. So, Gerald worked on Chris some more so that he gave the 'right' answer.

"Tyler won't be here forever, Chris. He will see Phil soon and go back home. Then, you won't have his cock to give you anymore cum. What will you do for cum then? He's willing to give you another load, but you have to store it in your other hole for later. Nothing wrong with storage and stocking up on the cum you crave. You thought sucking dick might be bad, and it was great, wasn't it? This might be the same. His cock felt good in one end, so why not the other? You want to please a man's cock, Chris, and cocks were made for fucking, so a man will be most pleased when you let him use his cock to fuck your pussy. If he fucks you in the mouth, you can eat his cum now. If he fucks your hole, you can eat it later whenever you like. All you have to do is tell him your hole is a cunt for his cock, and he will give you his load again. That's what you want, Chris. That's what you crave. It turns you on to please a man's cock and take his cum. It turns you on when a man wants to give you his cock and load. You know that any time you feel a man cum in your mouth or breed your hole with his seed you will be so turned on that you will cum, too. Thus, even if Tyler fucks your ass, you'll still have your own hot load to taste. Using both your mouth and ass can allow you to take two loads at once, which can make you twice as happy and aroused."

A light seemed to go off in Chris's head. "Yes, I want a cock to breed my hole so I can taste my own load and save cum for later. I want to learn to take two cocks at once so I can have more cum to eat." Chris then spoke to Tyler, as his arousal at the thought of using his ass to get Tyler off began to increase. He wanted nothing more right now than to feel that cock inside him.

"Please, Tyler, fuck my cock hungry cunt. Drill it and make it your bitch pussy, please? I need your load so bad, Tyler..."

"Okay, then, bitch, get ready to ride..." Tyler said as he lined up his slick cock with his new bitch's 'pussy.'

Gerald made a wish to help things along. "I wish that Chris's ass can painlessly stretch to accommodate, yet still tightly envelope, any size penis, and that his ass muscles and sexual reflexes were perfect for milking and stimulating any cock. Finally, I wish that, no matter how big or thick the cock and no matter how many cocks he fucks at once, he will always be able to effortlessly tightly clench his ass muscles to hold in any cum he wants to save for later. I wish that Chris would always try to keep a load or two stored so that he will have an automatic ass lubricant for any later fuckings. Additionally, in order to give him an incentive to use his ass at least as much as his mouth, I wish that Chris would discover that fucking several men and mixing their cum together in his ass before eating it allows him to develop new cum "flavors" for him to enjoy when he decides to taste any cum from his ass. Finally, I want Chris to have the flexibility to suck the cum from his own cock and, together with his oddly long tongue, the flexibility to directly lick up from his asshole any residual cum or any cum he allows to leak from his ass for him to eat."

As Gerald tuned back into the action, he saw that Tyler was impatiently pressing forward in between Chris's buns, and already had pushed his saliva-lubed cock halfway in. Gerald was surprised, but then noticed Chris sexual reflexes kicking in, as his arms pushed against the back of the couch in order to give him leverage to push back against Tyler's dick as Tyler pressed forward.

"That's it bitch, take that cock in that pussy. I can tell you want it bad..."

Gerald added a little more suggestion to the scene, reinforcing aspects he liked. "That's right Chris, it turns you on to hear a man talk dirty to you. You want to please him in every way to get his load." Gerald was enjoying Tyler's dirty talk so much in fact that he decided to make it an ongoing feature for future escapades, so rather than a suggestion he made a wish on the amulet.

"I wish that Chris's body and demeanor would bring out the dominant top and dirty talker in even the most straight-laced of men whose cock Chris wants to suck or fuck." Gerald decided that he would enjoy dirty-talking Chris himself, so he didn't exempt himself from the wish compelling dirty talk.

Now, Tyler was picking up a rhythm with Chris, Tyler thrusting forward as Chris pushed back, the two skins meeting in a loud, increasingly-frequent "slap" sound. Then Tyler pull nearly all the way out only to slam hard back in again, eliciting grunts and moans with each deep penetration. Tyler got a firm grip of Chris's hips and pulled him back on his cock. The 'slap' sound became louder and more frequent. Tyler showed no mercy on Chris's hole, using it how he wanted. Rearing up behind Chris as a general watching his sword conquer the valley below, Tyler's athletic muscles flexed sexily in the movement as he began a good, hard fuck-pace.

Gerald noticed that Tyler was doing everything he could, both mentally and physically, to keep up the illusion that he really was a dominate male fucking some bitch's pussy. His hands never touched Chris's rigid bouncing cock. Tyler never switched positions. Gerald figured it was in part because this was "doggy style" and Chris was his bitch, but when he asked Tyler honestly answered that he didn't want to be "distracted by this bitch's cock." Thus, as it was, the illusion that that Chris was some hot chick was more easily maintained, as was Tyler's sense of straightness and manliness. Tyler kept his eyes closed for much of the time, picturing some blond slut named Amber riding him hard. When he opened his eyes, he looked down at Chris with lust and ownership. But, to impress the illusion on even when his eyes were open, he talked dirty so he could watch Chris's response for any sign of a lack of complete submission to his fuck.

"That's my pussy now, isn't it, bitch," Tyler said with a slap on Tyler's ass. "Tell me how much you need it."

"Oh, god, Tyler, it feels sooo good. I need your cum inside me, seed my pussy, stud."

About this time, Gerald noticed Michael arrive at the living room doorway from the kitchen, no doubt drawn by the loud slapping noises as Tyler went at Chris's hole like a madman. Since he arrived behind the fucking pair, Michael did not cause a disturbance, and Gerald quickly suggested through the kitchen intercom that Michael watch the scene from a safe vantage-point in the kitchen where he could not be observed, particularly by Tyler. Chris, on the other hand, had his faced pressed into the couch cushion and likely couldn't see anything but the back of couch and his own mental image of Tyler's thrusting cock and the load it carried for him.

Michael was shocked by the sight of his middle son being turned into a willing cock hole for Tyler, a longtime friend of Phil and the entire Forester family - his knees, which were already weak, bent a little bit more. If he'd had any doubts that Gerald's power could make his sons crave cock, they were gone now, as it was clear that Chris wasn't being raped by Tyler, despite all the vile things Tyler was saying to him. And, Chris was older and physically much larger and stronger than Tyler, who, though athletic, was still shorter and leaner than Michael's wrestler son. As he contemplated the scene, he couldn't help but worry that soon Gerald would be making him do that to Chris. Given his experience with Phil today in the shower, such a possibility seemed all to possible, even likely.

Tyler's pace began to slow, as even his virile body could not keep up his hard fuck-pace indefinitely. Tyler switched from a firm grasp of Chris's hips to grabbing Chris's shoulders, which allowed him to transfer some of his weight for support, while at the same time pressing Chris's head further into the couch cushions. Tyler continued pounding and breaking in his new pussy, however, if at a more moderate pace.

Gerald used the slight slow-down to deal with Michael in the kitchen. "I wish that Michael was jealous of every man who has sex with any of his sons unless it is his sons having sex with each other. I wish that Michael cannot intervene to stop any such encounters, no matter how jealous he gets. Rather, his jealousy will fuel his own arousal, and he will jerk off until he cums imagining himself in the same position and doing whatever he observes another man do sexually to one of his sons. However, throughout this, a part of his mind will remember his old self, that he doesn't approve of such thoughts, and that I have done this." Gerald smiled wickedly. "I also wish that Michael knew all the cum-loving changes I've recently made to Chris, and this knowledge will turn him on immensely as he gets off on thinking how much pleasure those changes can give him. I wish that from now on Chris will be nicknamed "Chris the Cumdump" among the Foresters, which they will all accept enthusiastically and without question as the perfect fit for Chris once someone suggests it. I also wish that Michael begin having very erotic dreams about using "Chris the Cumdump" for his own pleasure. His dreams will become increasingly arousing and vivid, and will not stop nor decrease in strength until Michael relents and voluntarily fucks both his second son's holes. If he only fucks one, then the dreams will continue, emphasizing the other hole until Michael has filled both with his seed." Gerald thought it would be interesting to see how long Michael could hold out and refrain from fucking Chris. He might order Michael to all his sons' various holes eventually, but it would be particularly hot to watch him struggle against fucking a son for the first time, and hopefully ultimately relenting. Once he'd done that, Michael would be well and truly broken.

In the kitchen, Michael flushed red with jealousy at what Tyler was doing to Chris. He wanted to be the one fucking his cum-loving sons ass. He wanted to give Chris some cum to eat, just like Tyler! But, no, that wasn't right, and he flushed with shame at the thought. But, he couldn't stop himself from fondling his rigid cock, working it towards climax as he watched the scene unfold, helplessly imagining in his minds eye that he was now giving a hard, relentless fucking to Chris's meaty, welcoming hole. He wanted to make Chris his new cunt, too. He wanted to breed his son's sweet cock-clenching hole. Tyler began picking up the pace again, though this time he had laid his weight on Chris's muscled back. Michael couldn't hear what Tyler said, but Gerald's video system picked up the soft whispers into Chris's ear.

"Your cunt-hole feels so good... Tightest I ever felt...You ready for me to breed that pussy, bitch? My cock's ready to blow..." Tyler's thrusts increased, as did Michael's jerk off session in the kitchen.

"Yeah, baby, give me your baby batter... Spray it deep in my pussy!... Uhh Yeah..."

With a final thrust and a groan, Tyler grabbed the right side of Chris's hair and bit down on the left nape of his neck as he thrust his thick cock shaft to the hilt and grunted as each wave of his orgasm passed over him, shooting ropes after rope of warm, sticky boy cream deep in Chris's tight, willing cock hole. Feeling Tyler's hot, slick rod pulse and spew its creamy goodness inside him, Chris's cocked jerked into action shooting his second load of cum onto the side of the couch. Gerald's 10 incher shot another great load all over his own beefy chest as he lay watching and directing from his bed in his bedroom, while Michael came quietly onto the kitchen floor and then went back to what he was doing before he heard the fuck-sounds in the living room, as Gerald directed.

Inside the living room, Tyler pulled his spent (but still erect) cock from Chris's hole, which left no cum smeared on Tyler's cock, keeping it all instead inside Chris's hole. Chris, however, turned around instantly and licked up any additional cum that leaked from Tyler's satisfied dick, and began licking his own spooge off the couch and floor, savoring every last drop.

"I look forward to next time, Tyler," Chris said with unbridled lust for Tyler, who stood over him.

"Don't count on it, cock whore," Tyler said with disdain.

"Let's do count on it," Gerald thought. "I wish that any man, except myself, who fucks either of Chris's holes will thereafter fantasize over their experience with increasing frequency and strength until they are compelled to seek out Chris's mouth and/or ass to fuck again. In Tyler's case specifically, he has realized that he really gets off on being domineering to pussy fag boys and will find any excuse in the future to come visit his friend Phil, especially any spend-the-night invitations, with the ulterior motive to sneak into Chris's room to fuck each of Chris's holes as many times as he can manage. Both Chris and Tyler will try to hide their fuck sessions from all the other Foresters, but Phil in particular, since Tyler fears it might ruin their friendship if Phil knew he was dominating his older brother and making him his personal fuck toy. I wish that no one, except for Michael and me, would hear or notice these fuck sessions, even if they are held out in the open around the house like today, unless I specifically want them to notice."

Chris was soon distracted from the living room by the intoxicating scent of someone's cum, apparently originating from the kitchen. He began lapping it up, as Gerald gave Tyler a suggestion to seek out his buddy Phil in his room.

"He's probably fooling around on the internet again," Tyler thought, as he made his way to Phil's bedroom.

"Ask if you can stay over Tyler, you'd love to stay here tonight. In fact, you need to stay tonight, you can't let Chris forget what he is compared to you, it's essential to you that you stay the night!"

"Can't let Chris forget...must stay tonight...", Tyler repeated, before entering Phil's room. He was right, Phil was there on the computer, looking up something on a college or something.

"Hey, Phil, wake up man!", Phil jumping out of his chair as he heard Tyler call to him. As he turned around, he didn't notice Tyler's nudity as anything odd; if everyone else was doing it, why shouldn't his best friend?

"Tyler! What are you doing here, I wasn't expecting you."

"Oh, you know, just dropping in. I was wondering by the way, would it be ok if I crashed here for tonight? For old times sake?"

"You and Anna had another fight didn't you?" Phil's naivety was both astounding and hilarious for Gerald, leaving him rolling on his bed. There was no way he was going to leave Phil's pretty little head alone! Quickly, he started acting.

"Tyler, just agree with what Phil is saying if it will get you to stay over. You must sleep over in the Forester house!", Gerald repeated.

"Must...Yeah, ok, so me and Anna had a row. So, please, can I stay over? I don't want to have to go past her place in case she starts bitching at me or anything.", Tyler pleaded, feeling oddly desperate to stay there that night.

"Phil, let your best bud stay at your house. You know it's the only right thing to do. He's your best friend, he's looked out for you ever since you were little. There's no reason for him to lie to you about anything, and you know he never will. Michael won't mind one bit, you know that for certain, so trust Tyler completely."

"Yea, yeah, why not? Come on, lets get the futon set up in the guest room, I know dad won't mind.", Phil replied.

"Alright man, I'll go call my mom and let her know." Tyler said, heading for the telephone down the hall.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen Chris had sniffed out a suspicious cum load on the kitchen floor.

"Where did this come from?" He wondered. By now he was own his knees, nose inches away from the largest spot of spooge on the floor. He lapped up a tongue-full, savoring the taste. But as the pleasure of eating cum passed, Chris was filled with utter terror.

"This cum is still warm!" he thought. "Someone was watching Tyler and me. Oh my god, they will think I'm gay, but there was nothing gay about it. I just needed some cum is all. I need to find them and explain... " Chris's mind raced. He hoped it was Gerald's cum, as the other possibilities were increasingly worse. But, he'd tasted Gerald's cum before, earlier. Indeed, Gerald had helped him discover his love for cum by donating some of his own to Chris's mouth. Chris lapped up another tongue-full. As the taste of the cum confirmed his conclusion, his face turned white.

"But that means, it could only be dad or one of my brothers!" Chris's mind reeled as he quickly lapped up the rest of the cum off the kitchen floor. "No, it couldn't have been dad. If it had been him, he would have beaten me and Tyler to a pulp... That left only Bobby and Phil. Oh, dear God, don't let it be Phil! He couldn't handle breaking up Phil and Tyler's friendship or anything. That would mean Tyler wouldn't come around any more, and his cum had such a nice, fresh flavor to it!

Chris decided on a plan: He'd go to both Phil and Bobby to gage their respective reactions. He'd go to each and ask if they'd been to the kitchen recently and "left a mess on the floor." Whichever one blushed would be the guilty party. He had to find out who owned this batch of cum. He had to explain the situation, explain that it wasn't what it looked like, that Chris wasn't gay at all! He just craved cum is all. If you crave apples, you go to the apple tree. If you crave cum, you have to go to cocks. It's the simple reality, and there's nothing more to it than that. He would explain and make them understand his situation. He had to. He just had to.

By then, Michael was long gone from the kitchen, having made himself a sandwich to eat. It had taken him longer to make than he'd expected though, what with his son's activities distracting him, so it wasn't as extravagant as he'd have liked. Still, he'd had enough time to make a second one - if he knew Gerald from living with him for so long (which he thought he did), he knew the other man would be ravenous by now. Michael took the two sandwiches with him before Chris managed to get into the kitchen and knocked on Gerald's door with his free hand. He just hoped the other man like turkey and lettuce.

Michael paused at that thought; why was he wondering if Gerald would like the basest of the sandwiches he could make? Surely by now Gerald should have tasted them all...odd.

Before he could continue his thoughts, Michael heard, "Come in Michael", from Gerald's door, and before he could stop himself, he let himself in and closed the door.

Michael wasn't all that familiar with the spare room, but who could blame him, Gerald rarely let anyone into his room at all. There was a man lying down on Gerald's bed, and he seemed to be familiar to Michael; it took a second for the father of three to realize that this was Gerald. "Oh, thanks Michael, just put that down over there on the, well, never mind." He was going to say table, but he realized that the darned thing was too small. In fact, everything in his room was too small for his liking. Easily remedied.

"I wish that I had a king-sized bed that would give me perfect comfort the way I want it to, a total library of first grade gay porn books, magazines and movies, a huge, high def, widescreen TV with a surround sound system, a video player that can accept and play any sort of video, tape or disk, a large coffee table and sitting area, and an oak desk for my computer. Oh, and I wish that all the furniture in the room was of the finest quality and placed in perfect positions to fit my lifestyle."

Michael was surprised when the various appliances and furniture in the room shifted and expanded to fit new roles, even though he knew that Gerald was capable of far greater things. None the less, he sat the sandwiches on the table as Gerald joined him in the sitting area, the ebony cock on Gerald's much more trim waist bobbing hypnotically. As he reached for his food, Michael was surprised again when Gerald shifted in his seating, moving to right beside Michael, meeting hip to hip, one of Gerald's lecherous hands reaching down and once again squeezing the bulbous head of Michael's member. As usual, Michael was unable to do anything against these intrusions of privacy, and had to (pleasurably) endure it while he and Gerald munched on their snack.

"So, tell me Michael. Did you enjoy watching our boy Chris the Cumdump work his magic on Tyler in the living room? Don't beat around the bush." Gerald abruptly asked, shifting his hand to his own cock. Michael blushed at first, not realizing that Gerald had seen. At least, Michael hadn't seen Gerald around anywhere. But, then, Gerald had always been a lurker. And "Chris the Cumdump"? Michael thought it was repulsive on some level, but on another, he found his dick became more rigid at the very thought, and it did seem to fit Chris perfectly.

'Yes, I enjoyed it, it made me cum. I found myself wishing I had been Tyler. And, I was ashamed to think such a thing."

"No doubt, Michael.", Gerald replied, groping the father's cock yet again for emphasis before releasing it.

"I think Tyler should stop coming over," Michael said after a moment. "He's a bad influence on Phil."

"Why, Michael!" Gerald said. "I do think you are jealous!"

Michael blushed as Gerald had hit the proverbial nail on the head. That was Michael's main reason for wanting to get rid of Tyler, after all. But, Michael alighted on a reason he thought Gerald would accept.

"Well, I can't risk Tyler 'interfering' with my discipline regimen for Phil, either. If Tyler's willing to go gay to help Chris, he might think he can take the same liberties with Phil."

"Well, Michael," Gerald said matter of fact-ly, "you know that Phil and he are good friends. Their relationship isn't like that. And, it just isn't right for you to break up their friendship over Chris. Phil may be young enough to still require discipline, but he's old enough to choose his friends. Good friends are hard to come by Michael. You know that."

"Yeah, I know," Michael said as he got up to leave. "You are a good friend, Gerald. Thanks for the advice." The part in Michael that was still free from Gerald was gagging as he said his words.

"No problem, Michael. You know you can come talk to me anytime, but...", he said before grasping the base of Micheal's cock, squeezing hard enough to make Micheal stop in his tracks. Gerald smiled before he continued, "Now I have some questions for YOU."

Micheal instantly felt uncomfortable, though he was already so from the grip Gerald had on his cock; nothing was sacred from the man, not in this house, not anywhere!

"Micheal, would you please stand on the coffee table there?", Gerald pointed to the coffee table, and released the pink cock from his strong grip. This confused Micheal, but he did as he was asked, standing among the crumb covered plates. "Anything else?", he asked Gerald, shrugging his shoulders. Gerald's smile became more lecherous than usual.

"Well, yes actually. Micheal, would you please dance like a male stripper for me? And not like some sarcastic snob, dance like an expert slut who actually gets off degrading and pleasuring himself sexually in front of lecherous men for only pocket change. Hm, that's something that I may have Phil do later. He's a brilliant young man you know, great potential, could really go far in life. Far, far too good for a life as a family man, really, much more suited for life with his mouth and ass around some guy's cock, maybe to earn some cash or something. Well, what are you waiting for? Start dancing! Oh, and before I forget, I wish that you were wearing your best and most formal suit, something that you treasure, and that in your dance you'd rip it off bit by bit, until it's in shreds on the table. Under the suit, I want you to wear a sexy thong, something that you'd never wear normally, or something that you'd never even think of looking at or touching. Once that is all you're wearing, I want you to degrade yourself further and jerk off, right in front of me, onto a picture of you and your boys and clean it all up with your tongue. Finally, I want you to thank me for telling you to do the whole thing, beg me to do it again in the future, and, no matter what, I want you to make the dance as interactive as I want."

In that instant Micheal was dressed in the suit he'd married Marsha in, careful preserved after the wedding, and even more so after her death, complete with white undershirt and overshirt, black tie and dress shoes, and a picture of himself and his boys. As the shock set in, he moved his hands over the material, just to make sure that it was what he thought it was: it was the exact same suit, but since he was smaller when he married Marsha than he was now, and the suit had been a little bigger than he had been, the black material was tight across his body, especially so in the crotch, so his muscles and hardon were clear as day. Micheal started to take his hands off, but he found, to his surprise, that his hands were instead drifting over his chest, around every curve of his chest, and circling around his nipples, his hips settling in a seductive pose. Gerald was obviously enjoying Micheal's predicament, and leaned back into the comfortable seating surrounding the coffee table, his hands all over his cock, a pearl glistenning on the mushroom head as Micheal began to wave his hips, back and forth, his hands migrating to his neck, working loose the neck tie.

"Very nice Micheal, just what the doctor ordered. Oh, and I wish that you'd act as your real self and say anything you wanted while just you and I are alone, or when I say "game's up". I wish that you'd act as you are with all of the changes I've made whenever we're with anyone else or I say "game on". How ever, at no time, can you harm me, or make any harmful movements towrds me.

It was as if a brilliant light had gone off in Micheal's head; what he had normally thought had been years of Gerald living with him were mere hours; that the whole family life he'd known had been completely eradicated, replaced by something that Micheal couldn't have thought possible; Gerald, a man who'd he thought of as a good friend and a confident, was no more than a devil of a man, using a power that couldn't have existed to get what he wanted; and the very suit he'd sworn never to wear again, in Marsha's name, was now on his swaying body, gyrating to Gerald's desire. All the pent up aggression, frustration, fear, embarrassment and righteous anger that had built inside Micheal, preserved by the bit of his mind that had been kept pure and honest and out of Gerald's reach, was suddenly released.

"Gerald, you damned mother fucking, son of a bitch, scum sucking, hell raising, bastard of a demon, what the hell have you done to my life?! What the hell have I done to you and your fucking life?! What have I done to be damned by you and your damn necklace?! Why couldn't you leave me and my boys alone?! Why couldn't you just go somewhere and let us be?! We were a happy family, and then you used some bastard magic to take it all! Why?! Why why why WHY?!" Micheal cried out, his voice booming inside the room as tears poking around his eyes, his face red and his voice instantly raw.

Gerald wasn't moved by this outburst. Though Gerald would have normally ignored Micheal if he'd said these words, he certainly wasn't inclined to listen when the other man's body was completely at odds with his words. He sighed as his face turned bored.

"Micheal, Micheal, Micheal...I've told you enough times already. I've wanted you and your boys ever since I've seen you all, and since I have this, you're going to be begging me, literally, to do what I want with you. And I will, trust me. At the moment, however, I wish that you'll be unable to make any noise, except moans, groans, and pleasure, above normal conversation level while you're on that table. And while I'm at it, I wish that my room was completely soundproofed, enough so that a bomb could go off inside this room and no-one outside would even hear it, while the walls would stay the same size. Oh, and Micheal, start ripping, I want this to be extra arousing."

"Wha...", Micheal started, his breathing deepened from his outrage, when a subtle ripping sound started. Micheal quickly noticed where it was coming from; his hands were slowly tearing at the lapels of his suit. However, the black material wasn't coming off easily, though it threatened to do so. This wasn't lost to either men.

"Oh fine, I wish that your suit would rip however your dance needs it to, and that you'd know exactly where it was ripping and exactly where to rip during the entire dance."

The lapels of the suit came off like paper, much to Micheal's evident shock, and his hands dropped them to the table, his eyes following as they spun, fell, and landed next to a porno-magazine. Tears started falling as his hands groped his own crotch and ass, his fingers drawing down the fly as he continued, bring it back up after a quick but elaborate squeeze to his hardened cock. Gerald's smile had returned in full after this.

"No, no, no..." Micheal kept repeating to himself, as his hands started for the pockets on the side of the suit, turning them into tags, before ripping them off all together. He closed his eyes, hoping that against all odds, bringing every last once of faith he had in his lord and savior, that this was simply a nightmare brought about by some passing demon and not reality, that he'd wake up before his spirit broke down to nothing. He then heard music, a steady, drum like beat that his hips' swaying matched to, and he looked at Gerald, his head's movement the only thing he could influence at the moment. Gerald was just sitting there, playing with his cock and the cursed amulet, looking at Micheal as if he were just another porn movie to pause and rewind.

"It can't be a dance without music, right Micheal?" Gerald taunted, and a thought crossed his mind as the buttons began to fall from the jacket. "Say Micheal, tell me, do you have any other family, other than your boys? Like a brother, or something."

Micheal's mouth began moving without him realizing it. "Yes, I have a brother, Arthur." Gerald waited a moment for Micheal to continue, and, when it became apparent that Micheal wasn't going to elaborate, sighed once again. "Well, if you aren't going to tell me everything, then I'll just have to do it myself. I wish that your brother Arthur was here, in this room, with all his things packed in the basement. I also wish that Arthur would have all the same kinks and sexual interests that I have, with the exception that he be completely submissive to all men with very dark skin, especially me, and that he'd be especially loyal and loving towards me. I also wish that Arthur would have intimate knowledge of all the wishes that I've made to you and your boys, Micheal, and that he'd not tell anyone out of choice. However, he won't think nor believe that I've done anything to him, and he won't be disturbed that he knows all this."

There was another popping sound, and sitting beside Gerald was a man wearing typical biker gear, his pose obviously meaning he'd been on a motorcycle when Gerald had called him. From what Gerald could immediately see, he was rather muscular, like Micheal was, and he had a shadow of a beard on his face. The rest of his body was covered in biker gear, the kind of stuff you'd expect a stereotypical western-biker to wear. It looked good on him, really.

The man blinked, looked around, and finally focused on his brother, the father of three taking off the ends of the sleeves, peeling it off like an orange peel. A smile started to spread across Arthur's face, and when he saw what he was on, he relaxed, and reclined back into the seat. Laughter then started to come from his mouth.

"Mike, what a lucky bastard you are! I mean, sure, your life has been turned around, but at least you'll never run out of anything, cause you just need to jump ol' blacky here and," he said, jabbing his thumb towards Gerald, trailing off when he actually looked where he was pointing. He licked his lips, and his mouth suddenly became very, very dry, and he couldn't seem to finish his sentence as it was. "Um, blackie, um, yeah, well uh, anyways, all you need to do is what he says, and, uh, yeah..."

Gerald raised an eyebrow when he was referred to as "blackie"; he could see, to a degree, why he hadn't seen Arthur around beforehand. The man's personality was obviously too conflicting with Micheal's own. Still, he'd brought Arthur here, might as well make him the way he wanted him to be - he wasn't going to be anything more than a pet to Gerald anyhow. Micheal, though, had other ideas.

"Arthur! Please, help me! Get that necklace on his neck, or he'll make you do this too!"

Arthur started laughing again.

"He'll make me, do that?! What's what with you Micheal? There's no way that he's going to make me do that."

"You won't have a choice in the matter Arthur! Why do you think I'm up here doing this? How do you know what happened to me and my sons? How do you think you got here in the first place?! Grab his necklace before it's too late!"

Though Arthur wasn't making any sudden moves, his brow was furrowed, and he was starting to look at Gerald rather oddly.

"So, is he telling the truth? That necklace thing you have on you, it'll allow you to do what you want?"

Gerald shrugged.

"It lets me make wishes, and Micheal isn't lying, I did make him do that without him wanting to." Gerald visibly relaxed. "I could make you do the same thing as him, put you in jail, or even turn you into a sandwich. All of it's possible, for me."

"But you won't, right? Use that necklace thing on me?" Arthur asked, his face dubious, but believing. Gerald only smiled.

"What do you think?" It took Arthur a minute to make his mind up before a grin took over his face and he offered a glove covered hand.

"Hot damn, lets get this show on the road then! My name's Arthur, Arthur Forester. Has ol' Mikey told you anything about me?"

Gerald took the offered hand. "I'm afraid not. My name's Gerald by the way. Tell me, are you Micheal's older brother or his younger one?"

"Neither. I'm actually his fraternal twin, though I technically actually born before he was, so I'm older."

"Really? And what do you think of your younger brother?", Gerald asked, gesturing to Micheal, who had just finished undoing the last of the sleeves. They were remarkably clean coming off, no threads or frayed ends to show that they'd been ripped off of the jacket of the suit.

"Well, normally I'd feel okay about him - don't get me wrong, he's a good guy, even if he doesn't like ME so much - but, for some reason, I can't help but see him as, well, how should I say this...right now, I see him as grand-smack-smoking-HOT!", Arthur replied, practically shouting the last part, and he got to see Micheal's shocked expression. For a reason Arthur couldn't fathom (but Gerald could), Micheal, in his current predicament, was making him feel more aroused than he'd ever been by any woman. It wasn't something he understood, but he'd be damned if he was going to let that stop him from having a good time.

"Well, why don't you take your pants off then? Micheal isn't doing anything to stop me, so why should you?" Gerald asked.

"Good idea!" Arthur agreed, and quickly shucked his pants, before realizing that his boots needed to come off first. He quickly dealt with them, and then the pants, and finally his boxers, which were full of a thick, meaty, 7 inch cock!

"And the rest of your clothes can come off too, Arthur." And just like that Arthur started to tear off the shirt he was wearing and toss off the rest of his clothes to reveal the tanned rough body that he had.
Gerald gasped with awe, who knew that this guy could be so wow! Every trace of his body lined with muscle, his buttocks so firm that you could bounce stones off it, and it will still bounce. But still Arthur did look rough, like one of those builders. Gerald licked his lips, and said:"let the sex begin"

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