The Home of Used Goods

After upsetting his dads redneck friend, Peter, over a heated political argument, Dylan found himself encapsulated in dark and sweat; the heavy pull of something corse against his new form he was struggling to comprehend.

"Yeah kid, not so cocky now eh .... well, maybe not" Peter murmered as he rubbed Dylan against his junk and snail trail. Pressing him into submission

"Ya dad won't be missing a weak worm like ya'self, boys like you need men like me to give ya use. Don't lie, your happy down there. This is where you belong"

Every word out of peters mouth rung like a shambolic trance in Dylans mind, reinforcing his new existence as greedy piece of piss fabric, eager to please his new daddy. His only daddy.

Peter pulls his heavy work jeans back over Dylan, Drowning him back in the sensations of damp heat and itchy hairs groping his cloth body, and gets on his way home; comforted by the fact he has a good, greedy little pair of undies to hold him up and worship him for the next .... well .... Peter doesn't change his undies very often. Peter knows this, and is excited for Dylan to realise too

You fit his foot better than you fit a collar ...