This wasn't what he'd wanted. John Bender wasn't big on regrets, but Christ, he'd give anything to take it back. He'd do anything for this to stop.

Claire was really into him, and they'd found a way to complement his abrasive assholery with her cashmere bitchiness; they could be compassionate, sometimes, and he'd be damned if her virgin kisses didn't kill him every time.

So she knew well by now what his home life was like - and that she should never be anywhere near there - but she really wanted to know that side of John, when he wasn't showing off for kids at school. So one weekend, when John had mentioned his dad was off with his buddies for the next few days, she pulled all the stops - including some choice tongue moves - to convince him to bring her over.

It didn't matter whose fault it was, in the end. They were stupid, caught up in each other, completely ignoring the risk they were taking.

Because if one thing was sure about Joe Bender, it was that he was unpredictable.

They'd been sitting on the couch, making out in a distinctly horizontal manner, when his dad barged in through the front door, nearly toppling over in his drunken stupor. He froze when he saw them on the couch he'd been barreling toward and his face contorted in rage.

"THE HELL HAVE I SAID ABOUT BRINGIN' YOUR WHORES HERE, BOY?" The man bellowed, storming toward them. John nonchalantly stood to face him, but Claire noticed that he carefully moved over just enough to guard her. She was too startled to be offended, and she leaped up to stand behind John. She was blown away, then, when his father reeled back and punched him in the jaw so hard that the stoical criminal crashed to the ground with a grunt. Said criminal was glad that she knew to back away rather than help him up. She was smart enough to understand the danger here.

"GET UP, CUNT!" Joe ordered lividly. When John took too long, he kicked him in the gut with such force that the teen yelled when he heard and felt a rib break. The kicks kept coming, and John couldn't do anything. When the man stopped, John coughed harshly. His father ignored him and started toward Claire, who backed up into the wall and squeaked, "John?"

The badly bruised teen got on his hands and knees to stand, but his father swung his foot back and delivered a full-force kick to his abdomen that was so strong and well-placed that John was brought up a few inches by the force before he fell sprawled and crying out. Joe continued to the agape girl and grabbed her wrists tightly to pin them to the wall above her. He leaned in and growled, "I look forward to taking you from my ungrateful son, sweetheart. Maybe then he'll listen when I give him orders. A good daddy punishes his child, hmm?" At this he licked her cheek and she shuddered.

"Get off of her you fucker," John grounded out, stumbling up and stalking toward his father. The man let the girl go and turned around, grabbing the fist that was being swung toward him and using his grip as leverage to spin him and twist his arm behind his back. Joe shoved him into the wall, still twisting his arm until John screamed roughly as his shoulder popped out of its socket. His father leaned in to whisper into his ear much like he had with Claire, but he made sure the girl could hear him.

"You brought me a hot piece of ass, and I'd love to take it, but I think you'll be too much trouble. I have a better idea. You know I live to make you suffer; I know exactly how to do that now." He used his free hand to grab a fistful of that long hair of his, which he liked to think he grew out just for him. "You wanna protect the whore so bad, huh? Fine. She can go. But only," here he smirked disgustingly, "if she watches you pay the price."

Joe knew he left them no choice, but the best part of this would be their faces as he destroyed his son. Yeah, he beat and tortured him plenty, but he'd never come up with something like this. It would break the little slut.

Without another word, he began dragging John toward the teen's bedroom by his arms. The battered boy groaned as his dislocated shoulder was strained, but he was more distressed about the threat. What was he going to do?

When he was dragged into his room and thrown onto the bed, John was confused. Claire followed, unwilling to fail to appease the terrifying man. He would kill his son if she ran away to tell someone. All she could do was watch in equal confusion as his father stood over him, sneering at John. Suddenly he planted one boot on his son's chest, unbuckling his own belt and unzipping his pants. John's eyes widened and he spluttered, "What the fuck?" Claire covered her mouth and cried. John tried to drag himself away with his working arm, but the crushing weight on his chest held him still and restricted his breathing. He was hyperventilating, trying to escape. Claire saw this and mustered up enough courage to run up and try to dislodge the man. Joe Bender laughed and backhanded her; she fell, pulling herself away in tears and cupping her stinging cheek.

He'd been distracted, though, and John could get out from under his force and drag himself away. He was painstakingly trying to get up when his attacker knocked him over onto his stomach. The drunk lifted his foot and stomped heavily on one of John's ankles so that snapped. John yelled through the other ankle being broken too.

"That should teach you to stay like a good dog." He laughed menacingly as he dragged the twisting boy back to his mattress. When he had him under his boot again, the sadistic man twisted his heel into John's broken ribs just to hear him curse in pain. The manipulative drunk flipped him over. Now John was using all forms of profanity to curse out the man that was presently unzipping his pants beneath him and pulling them down.

"Get the fuck off me, you sick bastard! Don't TOUCH me! D-" The next thing that came out of his mouth was a terrible, agonized, horrified scream. He screamed as his father forced his hard, pulsing dick inside him, all the way, without warning or preparation, in one thrust. He screamed into his filthy mattress as his father pounded into him with the sole intent of shattering him. The bruising grip the man had on his hips allowed him to bring him back as he thrusted forward so he went so deep, so roughly that John was sure he'd be torn in two. He couldn't stop yelling until a few thrusts in, when he began to know the full agony and humiliation, when he was in too much pain to yell more. He trembled under the sheer force of his attack and could only focus on keeping from crying. There was so much pain and horror and disorientation, but he would not cry. He wasn't a fucking kid, he could take this... this punishment. He had to think of it as just another beating. It was, wasn't it? Just another way to try and break him. He'd never give in.

"Apologize to me, boy, and maybe I'll finish off with you sooner."

"N-no way in-" he choked on a yell of pain as he as caught off guard by a vicious thrust, losing his tremulous breath.

"I suggest," the man cruelly thrusting faster and deeper, more so than was really convenient, to tear him apart, "that you obey your father. I could always turn to the bitch to finish off with, she looks simply delicious."

John cut off a yell to gasp and shake his head. "No."

Joe Bender growled and pulled out suddenly, making John cry out. The man didn't allow him a break, though, and shoved his hand into the teen. John screamed hoarsely. He couldn't take it, it was all too much; he was being shredded apart and it was more painful than anything he'd ever felt. Joe moved inside him for a minute before finding something that made his son gasp in a different way. Smirking, his father kneaded and teased the sensitive spot, and John groaned in frustrated pleasure. He growled in fury as he slowly grew hard as he was br /forcibly aroused. He bucked when the hand inside him swirled around the sensitive spot and pressed it. He bellowed in hatred and frustration as he was turned on without a choice, as the man made him move to his will. He had no control, even his own body betrayed him, and he whimpered when his father pulled out slowly. The man realigned his cock at John's opening slick with blood and pushed in to the hilt again. This time, though, John felt the agony and the arousal, which was so degrading and torturous that he sobbed in horror. He was powerless. This was so wrong, so wrong. He buried his face in the mattress and wished to die.

Claire was crying too, but she completely broke down as she heard the hoarse, broken sob as he choked out, "P-p-please, p-please stop. I'm s-sorry."

His rapist grunted in pleasure and continued thrusting into him as the pattern grew haphazard and rushed until he emptied into the trembling teen. John cried as his father pulled out for the last time, giving his ass a slap and letting him crumple into a heap of shame.

The drunk laughed and walked out, having broken his son, finally.