Date: Wed, 4 Jan 2017 17:35:22 -0500
From: Bear Pup <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Karl and Greg: Karl and Greg 7

Please see original story
(www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/karl-and-greg/karl-and-greg-1) for warnings
and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex
between blood-related men. Go away if any of that is against your local
rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but
flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Skip food-related
paragraphs with (^) at the start. Donate to Nifty **TODAY** at
donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.

*****

When we finally both stopped and Pa's finger slipped back out of my rear
entrance, we could do little more than grunt at each other as we fought for
breath. My pale, Scandinavian skin peeked through in some very small areas
that were not coated with our combined, opalescent load. I looked like a
Nickelodeon guest covered in slime, except white and quickly liquefying as
it flowed across and down my left side. Pa and I both stared at the lake on
my belly, slack-jawed and heaving for oxygen, then locked eyes. At the same
instant, we both barked a laugh, the core essence of joy pouring from both
of us in loud, gasping, sobbing gut-wrenched laughter. "Fuck, son, look at
ya! Look at yer BED! We'll have to drain the swamp fore we can even change
the sheets!"

*****

Karl & Greg 7: Big Dog Dinner & the Puppy Wash By Bear Pup M/M; incest;
submission; light spanking; light piss; enema as sex cuddling

Still laughing, we helped each other stumble and stagger to Pa's shower,
him still chuckling and panting, me dripping a trail of slime behind me,
neither of us able to walk without the assistance of the other. Both in the
shower and supporting ourselves against each other and the tiled walls,
barely capable of conscious thought, Pa cranked on the water with sadly
predictable results.

The spastic comedy routine engendered by the ice-cold water from the
overhead and wall showerheads on two men's all-too-hot, all-too-sensitised
skin should have been captured on film; I'd have made a fortune off the
video. Pa was screaming in tempo with my own almost-girly squeals as we
fought at cross-purposes to escape the pellets of icy rain. Frankly, the
water was probably well towards warm by the time we succeeded.

Breathing harder than ever, we both noticed the wide-eyed panic on the
other's face and burst out in new gales of mirth. Both looked warily at the
stream from the showerheads, neither willing to risk it. Pa finally stuck a
toe tentatively under the edge of the spray before we both laughed again
and began to shower each other. Yeah, the purpose was to get clean, but the
effect was to tickle, fondle, massage and tease each other mercilessly. I
have to admit, I was far more enthusiastic than effective; the teasing
torture had sucked the last of my strength and I could barely stand, much
less focus.

It ended with Pa pushing my barely-able-to-stand body against the tile
wall, hand soaping my ass and rubbing my twitching hole. I may have been
dead on my feet, but my libido was still perky as hell. I moaned. "Pa. Oh
god Pa. Please fuck me. Please?" I begged to no avail.

"I told ya, you ain't ready for that." I kept up the begging and earned a
massive, not-playing-at-all SLAP across my wet ass. My yowl of pain did no
more good than my begging. Pa finished soaping me and rinsed me. Between
the two of us (shamefully, I doubt I held up my end of the bargain too
well), we had already soaped and rinsed him thoroughly, so Pa shut down the
shower. He left me glued to that tile wall, grabbed a massive fluffy towel
and dried himself, then lovingly caressed me as he dried each nook and
cranny of my body.

Now, I am not a small guy. I am lean, but well over six feet tall and an
athlete to boot. Pa is a head shorter, and it didn't matter. He scooped me
up like a toddler and carried me into his bedroom. That took my breath
away, but what totally blew my mind was when he shifted his grip and,
without even grunting, held me with one arm whilst pulling back the covers
and lowering me to the bed. It struck me then that I was gonna get to bed
down with Pa again! I couldn't have been more excited, but I had to
check. "Um, Pa, you still gonna let me sleep in here?"

"Well, son, since your bed right now looks like the Everglades, and we both
need a serious siesta fore dinner, yeah, we're gonna sleep together. You
got a problem with any of that?" I shook my head, grinned and probably even
purred, earning me a quick bark of laughter. "K then." Pa crawled into the
bed behind me. I was about to turn to face him when his left arm and leg
pinioned me. "Shh, puppy. Just curl up and let this old dog lull you to
sleep." I felt the gentlest of kisses brush the nape of my neck as I
snuggled right into my personal deity and was, quite literally, out before
the light was.

I hate waking up. Always have, always will. I was therefore a bit bemused
to slowly rise to consciousness in a state of such peace and bliss that I'd
never before known. Slowly, with an aching sweetness, the events of the day
came back to me, as did the realisation of Pa's furry chest against my
back, furry leg across my thigh and furry arm across my belly. The latter
had fingers almost, almost caressing my pubic bush. My breath caught in my
throat as I felt him stir slightly, and those thick, work-callused fingers
stretched and scratched my bush as if he were awakening and scratching his
own post-nap prod. "Great way to come to, isn't it, sport?" I could hear
the smile (or maybe leer) in that smoked-velvety voice. I was capable of an
affirming moan, but not much else. Pa pulled his hand back and delivered a
completely unexpected SLAP on my ass that brought me so far into
wakefulness that I thought I'd crashed through the other side. "Fill my
food-dish, puppy. Your old dog wants his chow!"

He rolled back off the bed and hit the head, his loud and raucous splashing
reminding me of the tool that I desperately longed to have inside me. I
pulled myself for the warmth of the bed and headed down to kitchen. I was
so high that I floated, coming to rest in the kitchen with a single idea:
What can I feed my personal deity that will make him repeat today's
performance? I flashed back to Pa's flippant dog chow reference and
smiled. Pa went into his office and I heard him punishing the keyboard of
his archaic computer. 45 minutes later, I went to politely knock on the
doorframe and my lungs froze.

Pa sat in his leather chair, illuminated by the glow from the
monitor. Every strand of fur on his chest was tinged in that silver nimbus,
with a sharp terminator along his thick and muscular sides. His strong jaw
was in sharp relief and his eyes shone. He looked like some chthonic god
alive in the glow of his furnace, ready to sculpt the universe into
whatever shape he desired. And every fibre of my soul longed to be laid out
on his anvil, to be moulded, shaped, tempered into whatever form he wanted
me. The spell broke enough for me to clear my throat. "P' {gach}, Pa?
D-d-dinner is ready for you." I turned and fled, not sure I could take the
brunt of his full form after the semi-divine vision had barely faded.

^ When Pa hit the kitchen tiles, it was his turn to come to a screeching,
hit-with-a-brick stop. At his place on the table was a round, flared-sided
steel bowl, very clearly a dog dish. A smaller version was sitting at my
place. Both had once belonged to a beloved family pet now passed on and
never replaced; both, his originally for water mine for food, (after a
boiled-water scrubbing with steel wool) were now filled with a steaming
mass that, seriously, looked like nothing less than canned dog food. Bits
of green and orange peeked out from a meaty, glutinous, grey gravy. The
smell, however, was pure heaven. Next to each place was a frothy-cold brown
ale.

^ Pa had the exact expression of an old dog confronted with a very new,
very suspicious trick. His head was even cocked a little to the right,
exactly the pose of a setter trying to decipher the quacking sounds of a
human. "Your puppy made his old dog his evening chow, as commanded." I
relented slightly, "Try it, Pa, I promise it's better than it looks."

^ He moved with utmost caution, and the dog-analogy hit me again. His eyes
were slitted a little and his brow furrowed; his nose led him but he still
looked as if he wanted to slowly circle the table, wary and uncertain. But
he looked at the open mirth on my face and bit the bullet, and tentatively
dipped his spoon into the steaming mass. A puff or two to cool the molten
mixture and into his maw it went. A short 'huff, huff, HUFF' that
accompanies hot food in a cold mouth was followed swiftly with eye-popped
astonishment, and Pa fell into the food like a ravening wolf. "Gah, sah,
wah ich vis? Swungerfu!" I assumed Pa had not suddenly learned or invented
a new language, and slowly translate that to "God, son, what is this? It's
wonderful."

^ "I took your puppy/dog/chow hint and ran with it," I shrugged. "It's
shepherd's pie, just upside down. Potato on the bottom with the
carrot-pea-beef-gravy on top. You like it?" I got a grunt and a moan as my
only answers; if I HAD been a puppy, I guarantee you I would have been
wagging my tail like there was no tomorrow. I served him seconds (he fought
to keep the bowl to get one loose pea left and his eyes never left that
bowl until it was back in front of him), and I simply basked in a job well
done.

When Pa was finally satisfied (actually, when I convinced him that there
really wasn't anything left in the pans), he sat back and stared at me,
expressionless. I felt myself begin to blush, with redness creeping slowly
up my neck and face. My ears could have started fires by the time he
spoke. "I was wrong, son. You're not a great kid. You are fucking amazing
and I am kicking myself for not knowing that for years. You've shocked me
son, and shamed me. You are a treasure."

I am not sure how I managed to stay standing, half my blood rushed north to
my face; even my chest blushed! The other half surged due south, my nuts
churning and dick throbbing and prostate screaming just from the feeling of
accomplished joy at hearing those words. I stumbled over to him and hung
from his neck. "Never apologies to me, Pa, for anything. You are everything
I ever dreamed of in a father, and I don't deserve the gifts you're giving
me. Please, just please tell me if I ever do anything that is less than the
perfection that I owe to you, Pa," and I don't hesitate to say that I was
crying as I said it.

"Gahn! Git, you silly little pup! Get this heavenly disaster cleaned up and
wiggle that hot-as-fuck ass upstairs. You've got more to learn, and I've
got LOTS more to teach ya. Let me know when you get up there, but don't
shower or clean up yourself; that's part of today's lessons." He grumped a
little at me, then got serious, "And I'll apologise as I see fit. Both of
us have some making up to do, but even if I argue over being 'owed'
anything, I do promise that I will give you plenty of feedback, both good
and bad, as long as you take it. Fair?"

I nodded and beamed, and rushed to get the kitchen back to ship shape
whilst Pa climbed the stairs. Water ran into what sounded like a sink or
tub, then I heard a long splash accompanied by an equally-deep sigh as he
pissed, and it seemed that, unlike every other piss I've heard, this one
stopped suddenly, not fading away to drips and drops. I filed that away as
I finished the clean-up, and headed to Pa's room.

I walked in and, again, froze. Pa was standing there, not-quite hard but
certainly not flaccid. The sunset light from the window sorta made him glow
a little, turning the olive complexion to a deep, burnished gold, and
glinted off a thread of dogwater hanging from his foreskin and some sweat
on his brow and belly. He was holding what I honestly thought was parts
from a shop-vac and smiling a lustful leer. "Into the bathroom, son. I
think you might just like this, and I know damn well that I will."

My puppy nature nearly had me gambolling into the tiled space with Pa's
measured treads behind me. I really did try to pretend I was standing to
attention in front of a drill sergeant, but my wagged-tail ass and twitchy
hands and belly made that effort laughably ineffective. Pa, for once,
ignored me. My momentary bemusement evaporated as I got a full-light look
at what he held. Yes, I could understand why "shop-vac" had occurred to
me. There was a long, white, plastic hose attached to a wider coupling
thing on one end and chromed, eight-inch-long rod at the other. He attached
the coupling-end to the sink faucet and put the rest into the sink itself
before turning on and adjusting the water.  I still had no fucking clue
what this contraption had to do with me (or would be doing to me shortly),
but the breath-taking visuals and aromas rolling off Pa left me seriously
deficient in "give a fuck".

Pa adjusted the temperature several times, and I noticed that the hose-end
had any number of burbling orifices from which the warm water emerged. Pa
motioned me to stand in Mom's oversized garden tub, and I noticed that it
was already half-filled with warm water, explaining the sound I'd heard
whist cleaning the kitchen. I climbed in as instructed and turned toward
Pa, and he impatiently twirled his finger to indicate I should turn
around. I did, and felt Pa's paw pressing against the small of my back. I
cottoned on and bent over, presenting my ass to him and praying, praying
that this meant the fuck I'd come to thirst for.

Instead, I flinched from the cold application of some sort of lube, the
same I'd felt just before my finger-fuck explosion. My breathing quickened
in anticipation, but instead of a work-roughened finger I felt the smooth
rigidity of the chrome rod touching my most private place. I nearly turned
around, then realised it was pointless. I trusted Pa unconditionally, and
probably wouldn't understand what was happening until the glorious
revelation of his plan was revealed, so why bother? Pa chuckled a bit and I
realised that my momentary struggle had been noted, and approved.

That inflexible steel prod inexorably pushed into me, and I felt the rigid,
smooth-edged-but-still-alien hardness breech my first and second anal
fortresses. The water seeping slowing out helped ease its passage, but
thankfully did not wash away whatever Pa had lathered into my hole. When Pa
had reached a depth that I could feel with my belly muscles, he asked "You
oaky, sport? You ready to start?" Start? START? There was MORE? I groaned
in anticipation and nodded so vigorously that I could feel my motion
tweaking the angle of the penetrating rod.

Another chuckle and a manual shift and I could feel warm water flushing
into my ass. Nothing, nothing ever could have prepared me for the wealth of
sensations, both pleasurable (oh, god, the pressure on my love nut) and
uncomfortable (the desperate need to dispel the invading pressure as it
stretched me) that washed over me. I know that I moaned again.

I looked down at my dripping prick and noticed a visible swelling of my
stomach. I started to tense against it and Pa moved his hand beneath me,
gently rubbing right where that expansion was happening. "Shh,
son. Shh. Let it flow. Don't fight it. Welcome it. Relax. Relax." I tried
and noticed an immediate diminishment of the discomfort and surge in
pleasure. Was it fun, yet? Fuck no! Was it tolerable? As long as it was Pa
doing it, he could have poured lava up there and I would have thanked him.

When my distended belly had finally gotten to the point that it was
literally stretching my skin, pa stopped the flow. "Son , this is the
hardest part of this lesson. I'm gonna pull out the enema wand [FINALLY! A
noun to go with the bizarre contraption]. Your job, your only job is to
make sure that every drop of water stays where it is. You got me?
Every. Single. Drop stays in your ass. Not a dribble, not a spurt until I
say so. You got it? Answer me out loud, son, I gotta be sure."

I had been nodding but now recovered the power of (something resembling)
speech. "Y- y- yeah, P'Pa-a-ahhhhh. O god, Pa, make it q-qui-quick!"

The withdrawal took several weeks at least, but I concentrated harder than
I'd ever done in tennis to make damn fucking sure that nothing escaped that
wasn't supposed to. Pa coaxed and complimented and crooned to me as he
went, until the very tip finally came free. I doubt that I captured "every
single drop" as I felt some warmth drip along my ball sac, but it was good
enough for Pa. I could hear the proud smile in his voice. "Damn fine,
son. Damn fine indeed.

"Now sit -- CAREFULLY! -- sit down. It is gonna be hard as fuck to hold it
as you crouch over, but fight it, son, fight it like the fucking stud I
know you are. Sit back into that warm water and let me help you relax." He
was right, every nerve, ever muscle, every cell in my gut, ass and belly
screamed for me to release the painfully-overloaded burden in my bowel. I
succeeded, however, and sank to a sitting position in the warm, soothing
water. Pa's strong, supple hand were immediately on my sides, my abs, my
treasure trail. Stroking, soothing, petting, massaging as my body screamed
to expel the water. Cramps flashed across and through me harder than any
urgently-ill need-a-toilet-now sensation I'd ever had.

Pa's voice, his hands, his manner and his lustful love were all that
allowed me to get past the first wave of rippling cramps, through the
subsequent spasms of need and finally to the point when my body simply
couldn't take any more. Sweat had burst forth on my back and scalp, my hair
as wet as a shower, when Pa murmured, "Damn fine job, son. You done me
proud. Just a minute or two now. You got this, champ, you got this."

Pa turned on the taps and warm, fresh water started into the tub. His hand
reached between my legs in the mammoth tub and pulled both the stopper and
the grate from the centre-placed bunghole. The water supporting me surged
through the drain in a cyclone of clear, warm water. However, that meant
that half of what was supporting my excruciatingly-extended belly was
draining away as well; my stomach muscles howled in protest at the added
load.

As the last of the water ran free, Pa reached for both my arms. "Now, this
part is messy and stinky and unpleasant, but can also be like a long
orgasm. I want you to think of nothing but that amazing dry cum [my dick
shot to full attention] and the feel of my tongue up your ass [I literally
gasped] and then that epic explosion of cum [another gasp/spasm/moan] as I
pick you up. When I say, you let go of everything in your ass. You with me
sport? Say it, son; tell me that you are with the programme here."

"A- a- ah - aggh. Ah, yeah, P'P'a, I g'g'got it. Please, Pa. P'p'please,
PA!"

With that, he hauled my upright and I felt my body clench and release. He
commanded "NOW!" and I let loose with an epic fart-shit-spurt into the
shining white tub. The flow of water from the faucet instantly helped clear
the far-less-fresh flow from my ass. Contraction after contraction (and
this is a far cry from what women face when giving birth! FUCK! How can
they survive it?!?) expelled that water and I sobbed and shuddered with
relief. Pa hugged and held me as I continued to paint the tub and my legs
with the mixture from the procedure. When I was spurting tiny dribbles and
my wracking sobs had shrunk to hiccoughs, Pa lifted me effortlessly from
the tub and into the shower. Water already running and warm, he rinsed and
washed me just as his voice soothed and calmed me.

I was soon rid of any taint from the enema and oh-so-very grateful of the
fact. I let out a cry of alarm when Pa reverse my position and put me back
into the tub. "Please, Pa, please! Please don't. I can't, Pa, I can't. I
just, just, just... oh PA!"

A light slap on my ass was accompanied by that baritone rumble, "Son, it's
fine. That was a wash and this ain't nothing but a rinse. You have been a
stud and a champ so far. Relax and enjoy this, son. Trust me. You trust me,
right?"

Put that way, there was no possible response but complete surrender. I
hated what just happened, but knew in my bones (and very-abused gut) that
Pa would never hurt me. I nodded through my tear-streaked eyes as Pa
started rubbing and frigging the lube into my oh-so-tender ass. I was
shocked, no, stunned, at the explosion of pleasure and delight that my
recently-abused ass muscles sent to my brain. The enema had turned every
nerve into a fuse, ready for Pa to light it with his strong and gentle
touch. I moaned aloud, deep from my chest. "Oh, Paaaaaaaaaa..."

The return of the wand was accompanied by nothing more than ecstasy. The
warm water did not invade my torso this time, it caressed every curve and
twist and g-spot in my core. It flirted with my abs and it seduced my
prostate. My ass-lips sucked and stroked the silver intruder, not to expel
it but to beg it to go further, deeper, faster, slower, warmer. I could
feel them trying to tease the inert metal into giving more and more
pleasure to my innards. This time, when I was full and pa retracted the
nozzle, my body tried desperately to recapture it. Pa's stern bark reminded
me of my need to keep the water in, as a tiny spurt burst forth in my
pussy's desperate attempt to coax the rod back into me.

The next few minutes were the opposite of the earlier torment. Even with no
water in the tub to add buoyancy, there was no pain, no cramps, nothing but
fervent and moan-inducing pleasure. Not only did I not lose my hard-on, I
started to leak a constant flow of dogwater. Pa laughed outright at the
transformation, and tiddled my prick, spreading the flow of goo across my
glans, eliciting more-shrill cries of passion from me. When Pa -- all to
soon! -- decided it was time and lifted me into the shower, I felt like I
really was coming from my ass instead of my prick as the water sprayed
against the tiles. That same pulse-synchronised uhn-uhn-UHN achieved by a
full orgasm erupted from my chest even though my nuts did not contract at
all.

"Holy fucking Christ, son. You are a bottomless well of amazing tricks!
I've been doing this since I was a lad and I have never seen anything like
that. Let's get you cleaned up and ready for bed, sport. You done shocked
and impressed me yet again. What ARE we gonna do with you, stud? What are
we gonna find for such a stallion of a son, my son..."

He paused for a minute, then asked, "So you followed all that? I'll be
expecting you to 'clean up' on your own when I tell you."

I nodded, still quite muzzy, "Yeah, Pa."

I was in something of a haze as Pa gently washed me all over, then patted
me dry with a giant, fluffy towel. He then scooped me up and carried me to
his bed. I started to come back to myself as I felt his hand once again
circle my balls and pull them gentle but irresistibly away from the
shaft. His other hand again whipped the thick, stiff-silk ribbon around the
base of my scrotum. My cock, already thick, went straight through hard to
diamond, knowing that another epical cum was coming. Frankly, after the one
earlier today, I wasn't really sure how I'd be able to perform, but I was
up for anything, ANYTHING that Pa wanted to try, and I'd just do my best to
keep... up.

<eof>

Thanks to those of you who wrote! Your ideas are shaping this and other
stories I'm writing.