"I remember," he said, "the day you downloaded that thing and had a panic attack when you got bombarded."
"It took over for Skype," I replied, looking for a cute sticker to send to a friend. "One convenient platform now. You still on AIM?"
"Not since I cleaned out the office and found the chandelier you made out of string and several dozen AOL CDs."
"You threw away my sixth-grade art project?"
Dad threw me a withering stare. "That's the one school thing you wanted me to keep?"
"Nah, it's okay. At least I have my blankie." He patted my head like the owner of a derp dog, which I enjoy.
"You never liked biting the pillow," he said, which isn't entirely true. Dad's pillow smells like him, so that's nice. I'd rather have a jock stuffed in my maw, but to everything there is a season.
"So, is that something you think I should try? You're the Millennial." He lay back on his crossed arms, the TV reflected in his glasses, the room redolent of sweet tobacco.
I rolled my eyes like a teenager, except now a spanking would be reward. Okay, it's always been reward. "Don't you traffic in stereotypes. I'm nothing like your textbook Millennial."
"Says the guy who just bought a vintage Powerline Concert Tour '94 shirt on eBay."
He had me there, I have to say. "Alright, one shirt."
"And then there was the time you--"
"No snowballing for a week," I cut him off. He looked at me like a drenched puppy. With glasses. And a jock strap. "Ehh, I'm still a Luddite, but I eventually got used to it. You would, too, if you let me set you up."
Dad turned toward me, bringing his bulge with him. "What use could I possibly have for it?"
"You could organize your weekly PTA poker party in a group chat," I told him. "I can't stand them but it's like water cooler conversation to you guys."
He considered, lifting his glasses to rub his muzzle. Wrinkles are sexy. "Maybe. At least you got the joke when I sent you the telegram and the eggplant. You didn't really put it in stem-first, did you?"
"Daaaaad," I whine, "this isn't my first rodeo. Or my second."
"Or your hundredth."
"It was fairytale eggplants that started me out, remember?" I asked, holding up my thumb which is about the same size.
He chuckled. "You looked so cute with your face all scrunched up when I pushed one in."
I sent him a nipple heart. Because that's a thing for fatties to do, apparently.
"Well, if you say so. It'd be nice to wrangle those fellas into line."
"Little more secure, too, so you don't have to worry about stuff leaking out." I almost laugh at the double entendre, since I'm the one leaking at the end of PTA poker night.
"Believe me, the wives know," he said. "Most, anyway. They like the extra free time and besides, all their marriages are spectacular. You're just a convenient hole to make the game more interesting."
This was all true, and I wouldn't have denied it anyway.
"The actual telegram was a nice touch. I didn't know Western Union still did that."
"You're too young to pay attention," he said with a wry smile. "I ever tell you about that nice wireless operator? All the eggplant talk apparently excited him."
I raised an eyebrow, looking over my horn. "Oh really."
"Yeah, nice guy. Kinda dorky, mid-forties. Lonely, I guess. He couldn't really hide it so I asked him if he'd like help."
"Couldn't hide it?"
"Horse."
"Of course."
"So I crawled under the desk and gave him some attention. Nothing big, but I did have to soak my shirt before sending it out so the dry cleaning lady wouldn't give me the stink eye."
"That was nice of you," I said, genuinely. It's nice that Dad can have some fun out on his own, too. It's healthy for an old man like him.
Dad grinned. "It was nice of Ed, too. That's his name. I invited him over later on this week, didn't think you'd mind."
"You caught another one?"
"Your reputation precedes you. You know how I can't stop boasting about my boy." He plants a kiss on my cheek and I can feel him poking me in the hip. "Boasting and roasting."
Usually when he starts using hokey terms I wouldn't put in a story (how meta), his brain is already thinking about which one of my holes he wants to seed in the next ten minutes. Turning away from him, my rump already a target, I felt absolutely Pavlovian. I kinda enjoyed that too.
After the snap of elastic and the sound of cotton hitting the wall, the wet tip prods between my cheeks. "Thinking of Ed?" I inquire.
"Thinking of what I want to order him to do to you."
"Ordering him?"
"We had an interesting talk that day. He's excited to meet you. Every inch." Inch one of dad's dick found its way under my tail.
Typical Thursday.
*
Characters and story are \r\n\t\t\t\t\t
| \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t | \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tWhyteYote\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t | \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
Art by the sweet
\n\t\t\t\t\tinsideizvy