John hates making his daddy happy.
He stopped making good grades in school because it didn't change anything.
He learned to bake even though he hates cakes but his daddy wouldn't leave him alone.
He never uses bad words and is always polite so his daddy doesn't have any more excuses then he already has.
John hates how his daddy still makes him sit in his lap.
And he hates how his daddy's arms hold him close, a hard mass pressing into the small of his back.
John hates how his daddy strips him down for bathtime.
And he hates that he has to undress his daddy too.
John hates and fears sitting in the bathtub with his daddy.
And that his daddy is careful to wash him in the places he doesn't want anyone else to touch, ever.
He hates how his daddy wraps him in a damp towel and picks him up.
And he hates how his daddy throws him so roughly on his bed.
John hates when his daddy kneels over him and starts touching him, roughly molesting him.
And he hates the noises he makes, the soft moans he can't control because he's just a teenager he can't control his body he doesn't WANT THIS-
He hates when his daddy forcefully spreads his legs, so rough he's afraid he'll split in two.
And he hates when his daddy's dry fingers press inside of his little hole, groping painfully and awkwardly inside him.
John hates how his daddy tugs at his small cock as he pulls his fingers out.
And his breath comes out in shallow sobs, and he can't relax like his father yells to him to do in a drunken slur.
John tenses up and closes his eyes tight as his daddy presses the head of his cock to his abused hole; he knows it'll hurt until the end, it always does.
And John hates his daddy, and his daddy hurts him every night.
And it hurts this time like always, and John clenches his eyes any mouth shut, trying not to wail and alert the neighbors.
And his daddy softly murmurs what a good boy he is and strokes him, rubbing his sides and back where he can reach his son.
His daddy doesn't wait for John to adjust.
And his daddy thrusts into him, hard and fast.
Then John starts weeping and sobbing, throwing punches against his dad's hard chest, and his daddy thrusts even faster and harder, animalistic grunts getting past his clenched teeth.
And his breath stinks of bourbon, and his hands are rough and dry and painful on John's cock.
And his daddy increases his pace, stroking John without any rhythm or tempo.
His daddy shudders and grunts, as he cums inside of John, which feels warm and wet and disgusting and wrong.
John falls limp on his bed, his spirit broken yet again as his daddy pulls out of him.
His daddy cleans him up with the stinking towel from his bath, and kisses his forehead, and tells John that he did good, and he loves him.
And John can't even look his father in the eyes as he whispers back that he loves him too and his eyes are blurred with tears.
His daddy tucks him snugly into bed, brushing his hair back and kissing his forehead again, slurring a goodnight.
John croaks goodnight back, and his daddy leaves, turning off his light and closing the door.
John buries himself in his bedcovers, clutching his bruised body with brittle arms as he drifts into oblivion with only one thought in his head:
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