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"Dumb loose ass bitch," his son grunted as he furiously stroked his cock, the sound gruesome in the stale bedroom air as lube and guts squelched and bubbled with the beating of his paw, "No way you're a virgin anymore. Looser than a fucking whore."

Hitchcock felt hot shame flush his cheeks as he groaned, sucking on the sodden jockstrap gagged down his throat. Its rank taste was a bitter reminder how quickly he was driven to new lows as Travis had just sauntered in from practice twirling his soiled, sweaty underwear from one finger and sporting wood. He had no say as his son had strutted up to him and dragged him by his chain collar to the armchair. To his armchair, promptly sitting himself down in it and yanking out the plug Hitchcock had forever been commanded to use whenever not in service. Lube from earlier that morning ran down the inside of his leg, a sticky streak on his thigh that Travis had smeared his dick in before forcing his dad to squat down onto his lap. It was uncomfortable, humiliating, but frustratingly hot, to be so swiftly reduced to straddling his son's crotch and taking the full length of his throbbing cock.

But Hitchcock was taking bigger and bigger toys now, stretched more and more by the collective will of the family to truly shape him into their ideal slave. A toy that needs to be played with they had likened him to, a tunnel that is good for nothing but being filled, a pet that needs to be disciplined and trained, an object to be used and nothing more.

"If you can't even clench like a grown man," Travis snorted indignantly as his wrist quickened, rushing himself insistently to an orgasm that failed to come, "My dick and fist inside you and still nothing. You've even got room to spare, you old, useless cunt."

The words sunk deep into him, piercing his skin and burning in his bones. Travis always had such a vile tongue when it came to his sex, not that it was necessarily a bad thing, just that for Hitchcock's usual scene it was a shock to hear much harsher language coming from his youngest child. Desperately and pitifully he clenched down harder on his abdomen, trying to stir some strength back into lax ass muscles, but the plug had done its work and worn him down. All that he mustered was a stale bubbling of lube and wet farts against his son's groin.

Precisely at that moment Travis, his own flesh and blood, had both his cock and his fist deep in his father's stretched hole. Not content enough with Hitchcock's tightness, or lack thereof, he had shoved a paw in with the announced intention of using his dad's guts as nothing but a glorified masturbation toy, something cheap you'd find online. He had been going for some time, to no avail, as it seemed even with the added stimulus of his paw's strokes he was going nowhere. Which now meant his son wanted more, he wanted to take it further, and so without missing a beat he slid more of his fist into his dad's overstretched hole. He levered in perhaps half a foot more of his arm, a third up to his forearm, as he worked more of his shaft with fierce, rushed jacks of his wrist. Hitchcock could feel it grinding and shifting inside him, a rough shape bludgeoning its way into him alongside his son's hung length, and he grimaced in burning concentration to insist tightening his abdominals whilst simultaneously milking his own innards to aid Travis along to a much needed climax.

It was a heavy strain on his body, the exertion alone akin to something his own father might put him through, only prolonged across several hours. Travis had always been more demanding than the other men of the house, and from his own knowledge he chalked it up to the youngest member of the family just simply being inexperienced and untrained in the manners of being a dominant. His proclivities more often than not drew him away to other males, his interests swayed so drastically between the vanilla and the extreme that it was so difficult for anyone to pin him down and guide him properly. The fist and arm driving through his guts, uncaring as they callously masturbated their own cock rather than savour the moment for Hitchcock's enjoyment as well, he felt himself becoming untethered. Hitchcock yearned to be the good slave he had spent years working to be, uncoupling an old life and habits to truly fulfil his secret dream, but Travis always pushed too hard, and though safe words were just an utterance away, the father never used them. He wanted to obey, he wanted to feel accomplished and make his masters proud. He needed their approval and love. But it was like unravelling yarn, and the further they went, the more untangled and haywire his mind became. Huffing against the spit-soaked jockstrap, he whimpered and moaned meekly as his ass shuddered with his son's fist pummelling through it.

Leaning his weight against the back of the chair, he loomed over his son, knees pressed against the armrests, as Travis furiously masturbated into his sloppy hole, the slick, sodden sound of his paw manipulating his meat to form a rudimentary sleeve. His lips snarled, snorting a deep breath of air as he again attempted with gusto to bring himself to climax.

"Been pent up all day," he breathed to no-one in particular, as it had become his habit to talk as if his father weren't in the room. Even when actually talking to him, though on rare occasions that might have been, it was always condescending, reductive, demeaning. He got off on knowing he was superior to his dad, he lorded it over him and took every chance he could to exploit their situation. It was one of the few buttons Travis could push to guarantee his arousal.

Except for now, it seemed.

"Fuck, you're just too loose, dumb cunt," he slopped his paw from Hitchcock's ass, but still kept his length impaled in the sculpted valley of his dad's crack, flush to his hole, idly working his hips, "I wanna cum so bad, what the fuck is wrong with you."

Misery sunk through Hitchcock. Though the situation was warped beyond all belief, he felt a pang of pity for his son, and horrific disappointment and shame in himself for failing his duties as the household slave. All he ever wanted in life, parent or slave, was to make his sons happy, and even in the most physical, primal way it seemed he could no longer do that anymore either.

A cough from behind them announced a spectator, though neither of them seemed too much surprised somebody else had stumbled onto the scene in the den,

"Maybe there's nothing wrong with him," it was Vincent, his other son, the eldest. A glance over his shoulder confirmed the male had just gotten off duty, shedding the dressings of his uniform with practiced ease, "Dad's a skilled slave. Maybe it's something wrong with you." A paw pushed down against Hitchcock's pack, tracing a path down his spine until it slipped between his wet buttocks, fingers digging around his impaled prolapsed ass, "You're on your new meds, right? Side effects include reduced stimulation."

New medication? For what? The parent in Hitchcock flared if only for a moment, an old instinct that he knew would never truly go away, no matter how hard the family trained and conditioned him. It was something he would always have to manage, but as Travis's father he felt a need to know. Though his mouth was full of dirty underwear, his grunted muffles were enough to demonstrate surprised concern. Claws however immediately dug into his hole,

"Quiet, slave." The older brother barked, "This doesn't concern you." Hitchcock remained silent, a stoic mass of muscle and fat between his two sons as they talked as if he weren't even in the room. He had no place in the conversation of men, he was only to ever speak when spoken to, when deemed necessary.

"Whatever," Travis hissed, refusing to meet his father's gaze as he spoke around the male, "Fat lot of good they do for what it's worth."

"That's not the point. We've talked about this. Or do I need to get grandpa to speak to you?"

Beneath him, Travis looked as if he was preparing another retort, but he caught his words and stifled them behind a stolid mask. Talking with grandpa was no easy affair.

"Besides," Vincent continued as he stroked both his dad's rose and brother's sleeved cock, "You're not the only one who had the idea to use the slave."

"Fuck off, I was here first."

"Don't be selfish, you know how to share."

Hitchcock froze, body as still as could be, as he felt something else slide and slip against his hole. The feeling was unmistakable, another cock, its head slathered with pre as if Vincent had been leaking like a faucet. The older brother pushed and prodded with insistence, and it didn't take long for Travis to catch on to what he wanted to do. Though he was the father of them both, he was nothing but a hole for them to use.

He grimaced, groaning as he felt Vincent position himself closer behind him, as he pushed his hard member along Travis's, finding slackness in his dad's ass until the rim gave way. The dinosaur howled into the jockstrap as Vincent plunged inside, fat, swollen inches making what was already an uncomfortable experience twice as intense. He felt overfull, stuffed with both his son's cocks as Vincent eased himself in until he was balls deep. Both of them were hilted inside their father, their lengths sliding and pressing against one another's in Hitchcock's guts, moving in ways he wasn't used to. His breathing was laboured, hard and shallow as Travis and Vincent leisurely ground their meat into his overstretched hole.

"Fuck man, that's so much better," Travis declared lustily as he pulled his paw away and folded his arms behind his head, truly reclining with the lazy casualness he often demonstrated whenever he was in a domineering mood. The other brother however was more proactive, and commanded his father as he began thrusting his hips,

"Stay still, slave, and keep that cunt loose for us."

A whimpering, bleated moan bubbled from his throat as Vincent began to fuck against his brother's cock, a tandem stroke that had him surging into his father's guts as much as it squirmed and writhed against Travis's own length. It was so fiercely intense, something he understood as pleasure but overloaded his nerves until he felt he might explode. His own member strained at its cage, unable to break free, and only the tight, pinching pain of the cold bars against his hardening cock was enough to keep him grounded. Vincent started his fucking slowly, testing how resilient and flexible his father's ass was with not one but two dicks occupying the space, but as Hitchcock realised he was far more durable than he had believed. Once Vincent knew that too he was soon speeding up, ramming his length deep with more force and momentum until the heavy slaps of hips against buttocks and lube frothing between cocks filled the air with their cacophony. His arms were shaking from the strain, all energy leaving him as it took all his focus to not clench down on the cocks in his ass, to keep himself under control as Vincent fucked both his and Travis's members deep into him.

He was ridden hard, mercilessly so, as if Vincent and Travis could sense the yielding will of their father was utterly surrendering to what they wanted. The younger son merely admired the view, their bulky dad huffing and heaving, drenched in sweat and sucking on his jockstrap, as he was rutted by both of them. He lifted one paw down and circled thumb and finger around the dinosaur's swinging sack, the only part of him left that wasn't caged, and he pulled them tight, yanking downwards to make the grown male wail behind the gag, pre dribbling from his chastity in long, shiny strands. Vincent was equally as entertained as his brother, as with pert, ripped cheeks were too good to pass up on spanking, smacking each side sharply to rouse Hitchcock's senses.

"It's a shame we can't do this more often," Vincent remarked behind his father, claws pricking into the dinosaur's hide at his waist, pulling him down even more than he already was, straining on already tired muscles, "Feels much better to fuck him like this."

"I reckon he could take a third the rate he's going with his training."

Hitchcock swallowed nervously as he was fucked, acutely aware of their conversation, as if it was just a performance for him alone to voice their future wants and needs. After all, it was becoming a fast growing list of all the things they wanted to do to him. Young virile males as they were, their father was the prime victim for their sexual experimentation and more extreme tastes.

"Let's not wear out the old man just yet," the eldest hissed in Hitchcock's ear, tongue dancing at his nape, "We've got so many years to work him over, let's just enjoy the moment."

"Sure, I've got nowhere to be..." Travis had a lewd, smug grin on his face, chops from ear to ear as he flashed his father glistening razor-sharp teeth. An indication of power, the half-seen predator in Travis that seldom came out to play. As much as his youngest son was leaning more to his submissive side when in the bedroom, he had inherited a streak of dominance. From where, Hitchcock couldn't say, as even Vincent was nothing quite like him. If anything his youngest son had adopted something of a rebellious submission, slutty but cheeky, piggy but snarky, a trait that could only have come from his dad out of all the family. It would be either their grandpa or uncles their control and authority came from, and true to their blood they had picked up all the ways and means of turning their dear old dad into a whimpering bitch eager for their lust.

Vincent was fucking him harder now. Before had been his casual pace, firm, fast, but measured. The kind of rutting he would love to drag on and on any time he had the mature tyrannosaurus to himself, where there was no rush to cum, but every intention of relishing each and every second that ticked by in the eternity Hitchcock was to suffer. Now he was moving quicker, slamming himself harder into his dad's rock hard cheeks and balls tapping at Travis's as he rode against his length. It was a sign he was close, though his mastery of controlling his orgasms were legendary, much like the rest of the men in the household. The only exception was, however...

"Fuck, not so fast, I'm gonna cum...!"

The younger son, being so versatile as he was when it came to topping or bottoming, was frequently teased and edged whenever the opportunity arose. He had always been so trigger happy when it came to his release, so feverish that he would beg to be allowed to cum. Though curiously he seemed starved of that need when he had forced Hitchcock to mount to his crotch so that he could jack into his sloppy hole. Maybe they would inform him what was going on with Travis at some point, but for now he clearly wasn't to know.

"Say please, boy," Vincent purred as he responded in kind to his brother's frantic, quivering voice by slowing down, "Seems like the only way you're gonna cum is if I push you over the edge. So what's the magic word?"

There was a grimaced, indignant groan, a roll of the younger reptiles eyes, but as Travis dug his fingers into his dad's thighs as his body coiled and thrashed in throes of a near orgasm, he muttered the words through gritted teeth,

"Please sir, please may I cum?"

Vincent bucked his hips hard into his father, grabbing him at the hips and pulling him down,

"Since you were kind enough to share, yes you may."

Hitchcock wasn't even up for consideration as the elder brother fucked his dad's ass hard, rousing quiet, breathy moans from Travis as he tumbled to his climax. He whined behind his gag as Vincent held nothing back, swollen inches of cock grinding back and forth through his guts and stretching him deep until he swore he was looser than when the plug had squatted inside him. Beneath him Travis writhed in the final moments before release, face contorted in concentration and exquisite intensity, until he lurched upwards, pressing deep into his dad's hole as he panted loudly. Hot, sticky wetness suddenly coursed into his ass, an abrupt flood of cum spurting into his guts as Travis came inside his father. Hitchcock felt every flex and pulse of his son's cock tighten against his hole, the very throbs of his cock seeming to push even further into his body, meeting the depth that Vincent was slamming into.

With the added cum, the lube became slicker, muskier, as Vincent began to glide effortlessly into his father's hole as Travis's load slathered the way. The younger son relaxed into the armchair as his high of orgasm rolled through him, dribbles of cum leaking into his dad's guts as Vincent continued to fuck the wet hole. But that didn't stop Vincent from making the most of a tight hole to fuck with twice the amount of cock as he rammed hard into his dad's ass. His teeth bit at Hitchcock's neck, puckering the shoulder blade as he breathed deep, hot snorts of air whistling through his nostrils. He was close too and no longer seemed interested in holding off on shooting his own load. In seconds he was already tense like iron against his father's sweating back, and he drove home his own member to the hilt with every intent to breed him as deep as his brother had.

"My turn, slave."

He thrust several times more until he bellowed aloud, shoving his cock as deep as he could, muscles tight and his body rigid. Then his own load hit Hitchcock, jetting into his guts into an already swimming ooze of dinosaur cum. Vincent's orgasm just added to his brother's, but it felt heavier, dirtier, until Hitchcock swore he was almost about to burst like a strained dam. His eldest son however seemed satisfied with himself as he rutted back and forth just an inch as he let his load empty into his dad's bowels, both siblings giving back to their father the very substance that had helped bring them into this world. Hitchcock blushed darkly riding both cocks, though softening as they were, as he savoured the pleasure of two well-earned loads.

"What the hell do you think you're doing in my chair?!"

Grandpa stood in the doorway. The eldest man of the house, the most powerful, Warren Monroe glared down at the three other males who were contorted about the only armchair that was considered sacred territory amongst them all. Though he was the most senior out of them all, he by no means showed his age save for a few laughter lines and vascular limbs rippling with muscle. He towered in the threshold with thunder in his eyes.

"Sorry Gramps," Travis smirked, plucking the sodden jockstrap from his father's gagged maw as he extricated himself from the situation, "Vincent was just helping me relieve some tension..."

Both the sons pulled their limp, spent cocks from Hitchcock's hole, the sudden emptiness quaking through the caught slave as they seemed to wash their paws clean of any involvement with abusing their grandfather's armchair.

"Travis was having trouble with cumming. We improvised."

"We will be having words." Warren's tone was cold like stone, and just as hard edged too. Both the brothers nodded in silent understanding, bashful and deferent to the eldest dinosaur, taking their leave as quietly and quickly as they could. It left Hitchcock awkwardly squatted upon the chair, cum leaking from his bred ass, facing down the fury of his own father who approached, paws dug into his belt, a bulge swelling at his crotch...

"Don't you dare move, slave, you are by no means excused," the older male snapped, fingers digging into his son's loose ass and pressing through the two loads of cum, "Little bastards... they stole my idea." Hitchcock trembled as his father scooped dirty cum onto his fingers and, lifting his paw to his son's face, slid the soiled digits into his boy's mouth. "Suck. Slaves are not allowed on the furniture unless told otherwise. You have got a lot to answer for, slave." Obediently he sucked them clean despite the shivers of fear that ran through him. His tongue ate hungrily at the musky, dry taste of his sons' cum, the flavour rich in his mouth and slaking his throat. From behind he heard the tell-tale zip of a fly and the clank of an unbuckled belt. "But let's not waste this opportunity..."