Date: Sun, 17 Apr 2011 17:36:51 -0700 (PDT)
From: Paul Vanden Boogard <misfit6959@yahoo.com>
Subject: Role Reversal (Part 3)

       I slept like a rock, but I still woke up a little after seven with an
incredible urge to pee.  Opening my eyes, I was momentarily confused by my
surroundings, but it all came back to me in a rush.  My god, had I actually done
those things?  Said those things to my dad?
       But here I was, waking up in his bed.  I listened a bit to see if I could
hear him moving about, but all I could hear was an occasional car passing on the
street.  I really needed to pee bad, but I had to get my thoughts together.
       Yes, now I remembered.  He'd been gambling and not paying the bills.  For
all I knew, there were other bills that hadn't been paid either and I just
hadn't seen them yet.  I wasn't sure what I should do.  I felt very guilty for
being such a jerk to him, and for treating him like shit.  I wasn't even sure
what had come over me.  Worse, now, was that I was going to have to face him.
       My bladder was starting to hurt so bad that I had no choice but to get
out of bed.  Hopefully he wasn't awake yet, and I could at least make it to the
bathroom before confronting him.  Tossing off the covers, I crept to the door,
opening it as quietly as I could.  I didn't see him in the living room, so made
my way down the hall, glancing quickly toward the kitchen before turning into
the bathroom and closing the door.  I didn't catch sight of him, but he could
have been just around the corner.
       I tried to stifle my groan of relief as my stream burst into the toilet.
Even that seemed loud enough to wake up an entire household, and I grimaced,
trying to decide what to do.  Why had I gotten so angry?
       I knew why.  Dad had disappointed me big time.  I had been looking up to
him as being strong and self assured, falling in love with him and wanting to be
like him.  Then suddenly he became this soft little man, putting my shoes away
and preparing my shower, having supper ready for me every day and conceding his
place at the table, even sucking my cock without expecting anything in return.
And then to go and make such stupid choices.  That was not my Dad.  That was not
MY Dad.  I had felt hurt and betrayed, and had wanted to treat him like he was
acting.
       The problem was, how should I treat him now?  It couldn't go back to the
way it was.
       Deciding to handle things as they happened, I stepped out of the bathroom
and made my way to the kitchen, still wearing nothing but the boxer shorts.  I
could see that my Dad hadn't gotten up yet, because there wasn't a pot of coffee
ready and waiting.  Grabbing a bowl and some cereal, I sat at the table and
started to eat.
       It was only about five minutes later that my Dad came quietly down the
staircase.  He glanced at me, then turned to go down the hallway and into his
bedroom, emerging several moments later fully dressed.  Pulling on his spring
jacket, he took out his keys.
       "Where are you going?" I asked.
       "I'm going to look for a job."
       I clenched my jaw, but I didn't say anything as he paused a few moments
before opening the door and stepping out.  I was almost glad he left, because I
wasn't ready to deal with the situation yet.  Putting my dishes away and pulling
on some clothes, I wandered out into the back yard.  The left half of the wall
now rose about three and a half feet high, and I had started leveling it out at
four feet.  There were concrete caps for it stacked in the garage, and I could
probably complete it by the end of the day, so I pulled out the hose and
wheelbarrow and went to work.  It was a cool and breezy morning, but in no time
I was hot and sweaty and deeply involved, my mind free to ponder the situation.

       In essence, I had taken control, and Dad had let me.  There were any
number of times he could have said enough is enough and put me back in my
place.  But he hadn't.  He had conceded to every demand, even to being consigned
to my bed instead of his.  Yes, he had shown some resistance, but it was almost
as though he had been testing me to see how far I would take it, how far he
could push me.

       I shook my head and tried to convince myself otherwise.  No, Dad wouldn't
want that.  He wouldn't want me to take over and start bossing him around, take
control of his life.
       Or would he?
       That may have been why he had paused before leaving this morning.  He was
waiting for me to tell him what to do, whether or not he could leave.  I had
almost told him, no, that it was a waste of his time.  Now I almost wish I had,
just to see what his response would have been.

       But I knew what his response would have been.  He would have obeyed.  He
would have sighed, and perhaps argued, but if I had held my ground he would have
listened.

       I was the man of the house.
       I chose the last few stones and fit them into place.  Now that wall just
needed its cap, but I would build the other wall first and lay all the capstones
at the end.  The trench Dad had dug for the right half was filled with leaves
and debris and needed to be cleaned out and dug back up, the sides of it having
collapsed over the winter.   Though I knew it wasn't noon yet, I decided to go
in and get a bite to eat, and get to that afterward.  When I walked in my Dad
was sitting on the couch, drinking a beer.
       "I thought you were out looking for a job?"
       He shook his head.  "I couldn't find anything."
       I stopped and regarded him, but he wouldn't look at me.
       "Did you even stop anywhere?"
       He stared down at his beer can, took a swallow, then shook his head
again.
       "So you just pissed around all morning," I said it as more of a
statement.  He didn't answer, but just stared at the TV.
       "Jesus," I scoffed, turning away.  I was pissed again.  He wasn't putting
forth any effort.
       "Fine," I turned back on him.  "If that's the way you're going to be,
then go make me a fucking sandwich.  At least you'll have some use around this
house!"
       I stomped off to the bathroom to wash my hands and take a pee, coming out
a few minutes later to find him behind the counter making me lunch.  Slumping
down at the kitchen table, I saw the two past due bills still sitting on the
side board.
       "Give me those bills and my checkbook," I told him as he set the sandwich
down in front of me.  I opened my new checkbook and wrote out my first two
checks, my cock growing hard in my pants.
       I was in control.  I was the man of the house.  I could have things go
however I chose to, all I had to do was decide.  I licked the envelopes closed
and told him to put them on the bureau in the front hall, then sat back to
finish my sandwich.
       "All right, first things first," I said to him before he could wander
away.  He stopped in the front hall, waiting for me to continue.  I turned my
chair away from the table so that I was facing him.
       "First, you're going to move all of your shit out of my bedroom.  Leave
your clothes, they're mine now.  Since you're acting like an irresponsible
teenager, you can were my clothes from now on.  And if you have boxers on, take
them off.  Only men wear boxers."
       I watched his reactions to see if there would be any resistance.  He
scowled, but didn't say anything.
       "When you're done with that, there's laundry to do, too.  Fold it and put
it here on the table so I can pick through it.  Dust and vacuum my bedroom too.
Shit, you live in a pigsty."
       I took the last bite of my sandwich and got up from the table, not
bothering to see if he was going to do what he was told.  My heart was hammering
in my chest, and I didn't want him to see me break my resolve, so I turned and
strolled back out the door and into the yard.  I had peeled off my shirt earlier
and was just in a wife beater, and shivered at the brush of the cool spring air,
but knew that soon I'd be working up a sweat again.  Grabbing the garden rake, I
returned to my work and prepared to lay down the first layer of stone.

       Choosing the largest as the cornerstone, I squatted down to heft it up,
noticing how my arms and chest bulged with the effort.  Building the wall had
been giving me quite a workout, and it was starting to become obvious by the
size of my muscles.  Even the rock I had just lifted I wouldn't have dared to
try to move just a couple of weeks ago.  I settled several  more into place,
then stripped down to my skin, flexing my muscles and turning in the sunlight,
admiring the way the sweat and the shadows highlighted my body.

       I felt very strong.
       Smiling, I turned my gaze toward the house, catching my father standing
in the back door watching me.  We locked eyes a moment before he turned away.
       Again my cock started rising in my pants.  Strolling to the back door, I
opened it just a crack.
       "Bring me a soda, bitch!" I yelled into the house.
       It was only a couple minutes later when he came out with it.  Uncertain
where to set it, he just held it until I took it from him.
       "You got your shit out of my bedroom yet?"
       He cleared his throat.  "Just about."
       "Well, what the hell are you standing in the doorway watching me for,
then.  I gave you work to do."
       He sighed with frustration, then puffed up his chest.
       "It doesn't have to be this way, you know," he protested.  "I am a
capable adult."
       "No, you're not, and yes, it does," I turned on him, making my final
decision.  "Like I told you yesterday, if you don't like what it is, then
leave.  But you can't, can you?  You don't have any place to go, and you don't
have any money.  In fact, you never have.  Mom always took care of the money.
Mom took care of the house, Mom took care of the bills, Mom took care of the
groceries, Mom took care of me, and Mom took care of you.  All you ever did was
go to work, and come home, and do whatever Mom told you to do.  I don't know why
I never realized it before, but now I can see that that's exactly the way it
was.  Well, now I'm telling you what to do."
       His face turned beat red in the sunlight as he listened to me, his eyes
falling to his feet.  I had struck on a truth.  It was Mom who had always given
him confidence and bravado, and without her, he was lost and wandering.
       "Go finish the work I gave you."
       I knew I was right.  I could feel it.  However much he protested, he both
wanted and needed my guidance.  My cock swelled uncomfortably inside my jeans.
My Dad was going to become my little bitch.
       I finished filling the trench, then went inside to pee, kicking my muddy
shoes off at the back door.  There was a pile of folded clothes on the dining
room table, and I could hear the washer and dryer still running in the other
room.  Leaving the door open, I let my stream hit the water with a rush,
watching to see where my Dad was and what he was doing.  It was a few minutes
later that he brought an armload of my things down from the bedroom upstairs,
taking them into my new room and laying them on my bed.  I flushed the toilet
and followed him in.
       "Stay here," I said.  I started opening up the dresser drawers, sorting
through the clothes he had left inside.  There was a pile of old t-shirts in
one, which I would never wear, as well as some very ugly shorts.
       "Go get me a garbage bag."
       I picked out the things I wanted for myself and threw the rest into the
bag, moving next to the closet.  Of the twenty or so shirts that were hanging
inside, I only kept five, the rest following the other stuff into the bag, my
Dad standing to the side and watching without protest.  I sorted through his
shoes, too, tossing some of the older pairs and keeping only the best.  Then I
moved to the bed, looking at all the items he had brought down.  So much of it
was just immature junk.
       I picked out a few important items and swept the rest into the bag.
       "Garbage," I thrust it at him.
       Taking it from me, he went outside to deposit it in the garbage can while
I made my way upstairs.  Once again I started going through every door and
drawer, taking the few items of my own clothing that I still wanted to keep and
leaving him with very little, mainly the stuff that was old and worn out.  He
wasn't going to need anything fancy anyway.
       Putting it all away, I went back outside to continue my work, grabbing a
soda on my way out and checking to make sure he had thrown the bag of clothes
into the garbage can.  It was four o'clock when I decided to take another break,
and I had two courses down on top of the foundation.  Using my wife beater, I
wiped the sweat from my body and went back inside.
       He was standing by the table folding another load of clothes, his third
can of beer resting on the corner.  Sitting down, I fingered each pile, picking
up this and that and throwing it onto the floor.  The rest I sorted into stacks.
       "These are mine, you can have those.  The rest you know where it goes.
Put it all away and start supper.  The stuff on the floor is garbage."
       They were more of his shirts and pants, as well as several pair of old
boxers, which I had no intention of wearing.  Stretching and moaning as I rose,
I picked my wife beater off the table and threw it at him.
       "Bring me a clean pair of boxers."
       I went into the bathroom and stripped down for my shower, emptying my
pockets onto the counter.  I heard the door open a few minutes later as he
stepped in, finding my dirty clothes had been picked up as I stepped out of the
shower, a clean pair of boxers on the counter next to my keys and my wallet.
       Yup, my Dad was going to make a good little bitch.
       I heard the pots and pans clanging as I drew on some deodorant, then went
to sit and watch TV in my boxers while I waited, pulling my cock out through the
fly so I could fondle it.  I wanted my Dad to see it, to understand that he'd be
down on his knees sucking it later.  I could tell by his demeanor that he got
the idea.  Flipping some burgers, he set the table, then came to tell me my
supper was ready.
       "I want your car keys next," I told him as I started to eat.
       "Wha...what for?" he protested.
       "Because you don't need them," I said, taking another bite.  He mumbled a
bit, trying to work up an argument.
       "From now on you're not going anyplace without my permission, and then it
will probably only be to go get groceries.  You can make a list of what we need
and give it to me, and I'll give you a check to cover it.  But I'll want the
list and the receipt when you get back, and you'll give me your keys back as
well."
       "But...but then I won't be able to go out and look for a job."
       "You're not getting a job," I looked him straight in the eye.  "Nobody
wants to hire your sorry ass anyway, so you're just going to stay home and be my
bitch.  Got it?"
       "No," he said, pushing himself away from the table.  "No.  I can't
believe I let this get this far.  I'm not going to be your `bitch.'  I'm your
father!"
       My heart leapt in my throat at his sudden assertiveness, and for a moment
I worried that I had made a huge mistake.  I have no idea what expression I was
wearing, but I do know that I just sat there and stared at him.  He met my eyes
fiercely for a few moments, then suddenly he turned and looked away.
       I broke out laughing.  I had to.  It hurt too bad to see how weak my
father really was.
       He turned a deep shade of red, which just strengthened my resolve.
       "Go get your keys," I rose to tower over him, flexing my hardened muscles
unconsciously.
       It was the moment of truth.  If he obeyed, then the decision was made.
If not, I was going to have to do some heavy back peddling.
       Hanging his head, he turned and walked away, returning a few moments
later to place them on the table.
       "Now finish eating and clean this shit up," I said, taking the rest of my
burger to the couch and turning on the TV.  I left the keys lying on the table
just to see what he would do.  He glanced at them several times while he ate,
but at last got up and started clearing off the table, leaving them to sit on
the corner.
       "What now?" he asked once the kitchen was clean, coming to stand a little
to my left in front of me.
       "Now you strip down to your underwear," I said, taking my attention from
the news broadcast.  He peeled off my old Led Zeppelin t-shirt and dropped his
shorts around his ankles, stripping off his socks as he stepped out of them.
His cock was swelling inside the tight pair of my old white briefs.  I chuckled
at the fact that he had obeyed me even in that.
       "Go throw all that I the laundry.  You're not going to need it any more
tonight."
       Picking it all up he pranced away, then returned to stand in pretty much
the same spot.  I looked him over, noting the size of his arms and his chest.
He wasn't small, but he wasn't as large as me, and he had started to develop a
little bit of a pot belly.  I looked down at myself and flexed my muscles,
comparing.
       He took it as a purposeful display of my strength and looked away,
blushing again as he did so, as though I was stating my power and he was
submitting.  His cock now stood at rigid attention, pushing the fabric out in a
graceful six inch arch.  I dug in my fly for my own hardening cock.
       "Bring me a soda, then drop your mouth down around this," I shook my cock
at him.  He turned away, pulling his underwear up into the crack of his ass,
then tugging it back out again as he went to fetch my soda.  He held it out to
me, then stepped between my legs and went to his knees, taking my cock in one
hand to guide it into his mouth.
       "There, bitch.  That's where you're going to find yourself from now on,"
I said down to him.
       He bobbed his head up and down on my cock.
       "Uh-huh," he agreed, his lips still wrapped around my shaft.
       My cock swelled painfully with his sudden submission to me.
       "Tomorrow I want you naked while you clean up this pig sty.   I want
every floor swept and scrubbed, every counter washed, and every shelf dusted.  I
want the toilet and the tub scrubbed too.  You'd think by now you'd know how to
do that."
       "Yes, Sir," he spoke around my cock, his right hand between his legs as
he squeezed his own.
       "Do you want to play with your dick, bitch?"
       He looked up at me, his tongue out as he rode his lips up and down.  He
nodded, pleadingly.
       "Go ahead, jack that cock.  But your attention better be on sucking
mine."
       He slipped open his fly and pulled out his cock, never pausing at sucking
mine, and started to stroke.  Within moments he was moaning softly, and I knew
he was really getting off on it.  That simply fueled the fire.
       "Take off those underwear and go get me some chips.  I want to see those
balls swinging while your jacking off."  He rose up quickly to obey, stripping
off his underwear as he went to the kitchen cupboard and leaving them on the
dining room floor to hurry back with a bag of potato chips.
       "Don't leave those there," I pointed at the discarded underwear.  "This
isn't a fucking barn, go put them in the laundry."  He frowned at my
disapproval, confused by the expectations of his new role.
       "Yes...yes, Sir," he stuttered, turning back away to obey.  When he
returned he went immediately to his knees between my legs.
       "You understand how it's going to be from now on, don't you?" I said down
to him as he slurped on my rock hard cock.
       He nodded, his face tingeing red again.  Spreading my legs a little
wider, I put my arms up and rested my head back, watching my wet cock sliding in
and out of his lips.  His hand had found his own cock again, and he was beating
it like a piston in high gear, his balls bouncing up and down with each stroke.
       "Yeah," I said, looking down at him, "I think I'm really going to like it
this way.  I kept my eyes open and just watched, concentration on the sensations
my cock was feeling.  I knew I wouldn't be able to hold back long.  This was
only my third blow job, and they felt fucking wonderful.
       "Are you ready bitch?  "Cause you're getting a mouthful," I said,
fighting to hold back from cumming as hard as I could.  It was a futile effort,
but it made my orgasm painfully sweet as I erupted into his mouth, a long groan
of release escaping my lips.  He started groaning as well, soft little grunts
that got louder and longer as he held my cock in his mouth and beat on his rod.
I stuffed his head deep into my crotch.
       "You like that bitch?" I asked.
       His response was a long, loud moan as gob after gob of cum shot onto his
chest and arched onto the carpet.
       I laughed.  "Well, there's another mess for you to clean up," I said.
       He was panting and heaving , but crawled away to get a rag, his ass
muscles clenching as he stood to scamper down the hall to the linen closet.
       "Go get me another soda," I directed him as he started scrubbing at the
carpet.  He ran to fetch it, then came back to finish his job.
       "When you`re done with that you can watch the TV, but you might as well
stay naked.  That's how you're going to be all day tomorrow anyway.
       "Yes, Sir," he replied submissively.
       I sent him back and forth several times that evening, fetching me
different snacks or refills on my soda, and when the news came on at ten I
turned off the TV.
       "We're having bacon and eggs tomorrow.  Wake me up at seven and have them
ready by seven thirty."
I didn't wait for a response, but went to brush my teeth, then crawled into my
bed.  I didn't care what he did, but I could hear him as he locked the front and
back doors and creep up the stairs to his bedroom.   Fuck, what a weird day it
had been.