This is a repost from a Tumblr series that I called “My perfect dad.” I’m preserving these older stories and continuing to write new ones available on this site first.

My relationship with my Son was going really well. Until it wasn’t. Over the last few months, I’d noticed He was putting less time and effort into my transformation. He used to hypnotize me every day, but lately I was lucky to get one good brainwashing session a week out of Him. I was starting to remember bits and pieces of my old life before He took me in as His submissive dad. 

He was losing interest in me. Every time I walked into the room, whether I was serving His meals or putting away His laundry, I noticed He was swiping through profiles of other guys on His phone. I tried to level up my service and take on more around the house, but O/our relationship wasn’t like it used to be. 

Eventually, Son removed the padlock from the basement door, opened the door, and told me to walk down the stairs. I was scared; I’d never been allowed down there in all the time I lived with Him. The stairs creaked under my leather boots, even louder than the creaking of my Son-issued leather uniform. When I reached the bottom step, a gruff voice greeted me. 

“Welcome, brother.” 

A single naked light bulb illuminated the dark basement, and two massive men stepped out of the shadows. They were dressed in head-to-toe leather, and one of them wore an enormous metal collar. The collared one kneeled, causing the chain leash he was wearing to clink and rattle. Overhead, I heard my Son re-locking the basement door and then His footsteps trailing off. 

“Brother?” I said, unsure of myself. “Who are you?” 

The bigger one with the full beard extended his hand. I shook it. “I’m Uncle Travis, and this here is Uncle Max,” he said, gesturing to the one on his knees. “We were wondering when Nephew would bring us a new brother.” 

Max bowed his head and leaned forward to lick the toe of my leather boot. When he finished serving me like I was accustomed to serving my Son, he spoke. “What’s your name?” 

“I’m dad,” I said, slightly confused. “I don’t have a name.” 

They both laughed, Travis louder and longer than Max. “I love this part,” Travis said, and then looked me right in the eye. “Happy retirement, dad.” 

I staggered backward against the basement stairs as a flood of memories overwhelmed me. The spell of being my hot Son’s obedient dad was completely broken. I remembered my own name for the first time in months. I even remembered my Son’s name: Charlie. I tried to shake the fog from my head and stood up straight, but my feeling of relief was short lived as new programming rolled in, ousting the old permanently. 

“I’ll ask again,” Brother Travis said. “What’s your name?” 

“I’m Uncle Dave,” I said. “Glad to be here, brother.” 

Brother Travis clapped me on the shoulder, and Brother Max started nuzzling his face against my leather-clad bulge. I smiled, feeling at ease once again. “Are there more of us down here?” I asked, hopeful that there would be more big, masculine, leather brothers with whom I could fully enjoy my retirement. 

“Oh yes,” Brother Travis said. “The rest of the Uncles can’t wait to meet you.” 

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