Breaking Tyler

by Sid Phillips  (sid.phillips@yandex.com)



STORY CODES: (Mb,nepi,toddler,oral,anal,rape,torture,gore,snuff,supernatural)

   
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please do not treat this work of fiction as a manual for abuse.
               It is not intended as such. Also be aware that the story codes
               above are no exaggeration. If you are uncomfortable with blood,
               gore, and violence, stop reading now. That said, I hope you 
               enjoy.  Feedback is appreciated at:  sid.phillips@yandex.com

   
STORY INTRO:  A young father discovers that his sex-ravaged son comes back to 
              life after he dies. He exploits this discovery to repeatedly 
              torture and murder his one year old son.





   33-and-a-half seconds.  That is precisely how long it takes for my son
to come back to life after he dies.  Trust me, I know, I have watched him
die hundreds of times.  To be more exact, I have killed him hundreds of
times.

   And it always takes exactly 33-and-a-half seconds for him to be
resurrected.

   It all started five months ago.  I was driving to the store with my one
year old son to buy more diapers.  I worked from home and spent most of my
days with baby Tyler naked in my lap.  Still, whenever I left the house, I
was excited to get home again and rape him.  You see, my wife had left us
shortly after my son was born.

   We had started fighting the moment she found out she was pregnant.  I
wanted the kid, she wanted to find a nice couple to adopt him.  After
nearly a year of fighting about it, I told her she was free to go, that I
would raise our son alone and she could have her life back.

   So she packed her bags and left.  The last time I spoke to her, she was
living in Michigan with her parents.  She signed away all of her parental
rights to Tyler.  She never wanted to see him again.

   That suited me just fine.  I was free to rape my son as much as I wanted
and no one would ever notice his stretched-out anus.  I was free to beat
him to my heart's content with no one to question the bruises covering his
body.

   Yeah, I am not your run-of-the-mill monster: I like my sex mean and
violent.

   Anyway, I was hard as a rock driving to the store in a heavy rainstorm.
I was more focused on fantasizing about Tyler's ass than I was on driving.
So it should not surprise you to hear that I took a sharp turn too fast,
lost control of the car, and drove right off the road.

   We flew over the guard rail.  There was a slope next to the road and we
rolled all the way down to the bottom.  I recovered surprisingly quickly,
immediately cursing myself.  I had spoiled the rest of my night, not to
mention my car.  I beat my fists against the steering wheel, letting out my
anger.

   That made me think of letting out my anger on little Tyler - of punching
his little body over and over again, listening to him scream his heart out.

   A jolt of cold terror shot through me.  Someone would see the accident,
would call 911, even if I did not.  An ambulance was sure to come, and take
Tyler away.  Someone would question the bruises.  They would question me.
They might look at his hole.

   I twisted in my seat to look at Tyler.  Shit, shit, shit!

   His head was hanging limp, half his head battered and bloodied. 
Something in the car must have hit him in the head while we were rolling.
He looked dead.

   This was bad.  Not only was someone bound to realize what I had been
doing to him, my fuck toy was dead.  I could make a run for it, but I had
lost the best thing that had ever happened to me.

   I released my seatbelt, pushing the deflated airbags out of my way.  As
I leaned over the seats to check for a pulse, something unbelievable
happened.

   The blood on his face disappeared in an instant.  His nose, which had
been splayed slightly to the side, popped back into place.  His eyes opened
wide.  His head lifted up.  He opened his mouth and cried.

   To say the least, I was in shock.  I did not - could not - believe my 
eyes.

   After I recovered a little, I realized that I would still have to make a
run for it.  Even though he was alive, they would want to check him for
injuries.  They would still notice the bruises.

   I tried to open my door.  I had to grab Tyler and go before anyone
showed up.

   It was stuck.

   I climbed across to the other side of the car and tried that door.  It
was stuck too!

   Fuck, fuck, fuck!!!

   Finally, I climbed into the backseat, undid the straps keeping Tyler in
his child seat, and pulled him into my arms.  As I did this, I noticed
something missing.  The bruise near his collarbone, that had been there for
several days.  It was gone.

   I undid his onesie, looking for the bruises that I knew were there.  The
bruises that I knew so well.  But they were all gone.

   I lost my mind.  I started laughing hysterically.  This was crazy.  How
was he alive?  What had happened to his bruises?

   I caught my breath, then brought my mouth to his, kissing him
passionately.

   "Thank you, Tyler," I said in relief.  "Thank you, thank you, thank
you." In response, he continued to cry.

   After that stressful experience, all I wanted was to get home and fuck
the shit out of him.  Which reminded me.  I reached a hand around to his
back, pushing into his diaper.  I knew what I would find already, but I had
to be sure.  My finger found his crack and slid along his hole.

   Tight as the day he was born.

   My cock throbbed.  I had no idea what was going on.  But if it meant
that I got to fuck his virgin hole all over again, I was more than happy.

   I dug my phone out of my pocket and called 911 myself.  I did not have
to fake the shakiness in my voice.  I was still a little freaked out, at
that point.

   I waited impatiently for an ambulance to arrive.

   - - -

   I passed several hours in sexual frustration before I was able to make
it home with Tyler.  I was annoyed and barely had a thought to spare for
what had happened: I wanted a good hard fuck.

   I ran up the stairs with Tyler in my arms.  I threw him down onto our
bed.  (Yes, he slept with me every night.  If I woke up with a hard-on at
3:00 am, I wanted him close by.)

   To get myself excited, I slapped him around for a few minutes.  His head
flew this way and that as my open hands whacked roughly against the sides
of his face.  I yanked off my trousers and pants and replaced my hands with
my hard cock.  Slapping him with my cock was not as violent, but there was
a certain obscenity to it that I enjoyed.  Strings of precum were smeared
across his face.

   Once I was suitably hard, I forcefully shoved my whole cock down his
throat.  I marveled at the unexpected tightness, as his throat gripped me.
I felt my hardness dragging the inside of his throat along with it as I
pumped in and out.

   I realized that my months of intense oral rape must have stretched his
throat, and that whatever had healed his bruises had also tightened up his
insides.

   Perfect.

  "Open wide Tyler, this is going to hurt."

   I settled into the cruelest rhythm of his short life.  I held nothing
back.  I pounded my baby's head into the mattress with long thrusts of my
throbbing cock.  He had no chance to breathe.

   His throat was spasming in a desperate attempt to expel me.  I felt him
puke around me.  But I had no intention of stopping.  After a few more
thrusts, his puke blew out around my shaft.

   I wondered idly if he would be drowning in his own puke, but all caution
was gone.  I suddenly did not care.  I would pull out of his throat after I
had cum, not before.

   Looking down at his face, it was clear that he was suffocating beneath
me.  His face was slowly changing color, getting darker and darker by the
second.  It only made me harder, only made me fuck him harder.

   Usually, I would let him catch his breath before passing out.  Not this
time.  An animal had taken hold of me: I fucked him harder.

   When I finally felt him go still and pass out, I fucked even harder.

   I was having the time of my life.  I did not know how long it takes for
someone to die from suffocation after passing out, let alone a 1-year-old.
And I did not give a fuck.  I kept going.

  "Tyler!" I cried in ecstasy.

   The longer it went it, the more vicious I became.  I went from not
caring if he died, to wanting him to die.  I wanted to strangle my boy to
death with my cock.

   And so, I did.  Even though I knew he was on death's door, I kept
fucking him.  I thought about how close he was to dying.  

  "I'm going to kill you," I growled sadistically.  "You stupid little 
cocksucker.  You're going to die, and then I'm going to fuck your dead body!"

   I was approaching orgasm, and I quickened my ruthless pace further.  I
grabbed one of his wrists and felt for his pulse.  It was there.  Slow, and
getting slower.

   Thump.  His head was ground into the bed.  Thump.  In and out, in and
out.  Thump.  I pounded him over and over and over.  But then there was no
more pulse in his wrist: he was dead.

   I had passed the point of no return, in more ways than one.  I felt my
orgasm building.  I fucked Tyler a few more times before burying myself
deep inside him and shooting my load down his lifeless throat.

   It took me a second to recover, at which point I pulled out of him.  A
slurry of puke, saliva, and cum coated his lips and my cock.  He did not
suddenly gasp for breath: he was truly dead.

   I was feeling a little anxious by this time, as I held my own breath and
waited to see what would happen.  It would have been annoying if he did not
come back to life.  I would have needed to cover up the murder and I would
have lost out on my amazing fuck toy.

   Tyler had given me the best orgasm of my life, though, so it was worth
it either way.  However, I will not pretend that what happened less than a
minute later was not a relief.

   Several things happened at once.  His eyes opened, he was breathing, he
started screaming, and the puke and spit coating his lips disappeared.  It
did not recede into his mouth or evaporate.  It just stopped being on his
lips.  But my cum was still there, and Tyler was busy coughing some out of
his throat.

   Curious, I looked down at my cock and saw that the puke and spit had
also disappeared from it.  Weird.

   I grinned the most malicious grin that anyone has ever grinned before.
Foul and terrible and fueled by the ideas that had started to fill my head.
There are just so many ways to have fun with a baby boy who you can kill
again and again.

   But it had been a long day.  So I went to bed, content to explore my new
toy in the morning.

   - - -

   I awoke to Tyler crying his head off.  I glanced at the time (1:27 am)
and groaned in frustration.  I wanted to sleep, but his crying would make
that impossible.

   "Shut up!" I said. "Stop crying, you worthless piece of shit!"

   He ignored me.

   A week before, I would have been stuck trying to soothe him back to
sleep.  But things were different that night and I had a better idea.  I
got out of bed and went downstairs, digging through drawers for what I
needed.

   There are, of course, many different solutions to this problem.  And I
have tried most of them in the months since.  But that night, my solution
was simple: duct tape and a clothespin.

   After a minute of searching, I found what I needed and returned to my
bedroom.  I tore of a piece of duct tape and covered his mouth with it.  To
be honest, I knew that was enough to keep him quiet for the rest of the
night.  But he had woken me up and I needed to punish him, so I put the
clothespin over his little nose.

   I laid back down, resting one hand on his chest, letting his slow death
lull me back to sleep.

   - - -

   When I awoke hours later, I saw that he was close to passing out again.
I let it happen.  Then I let him die one more time.  I had just woken up,
but my cock was already aching for his death.

   33-and-a-half seconds later, his eyes opened.  I ripped the duct tape
off in one jerk, and he screamed from the pain.

   To say that I was excited that morning would be an understatement.  You
have to understand, I no longer needed to be careful with Tyler.  I could
do whatever I wanted to him.  I had literally fucked the life out of him,
and he had come back as healthy as ever.

   In a display of my new-found freedom, I grabbed him by his throat and
carried him to my basement.  I needed to experiment with him, and the
basement seemed like the best place to do that.

   No, my basement is not a sex dungeon.  I am not into all that pomp and
circumstance.  It is simply a bare concrete room with no windows, no
interior walls, and concrete exterior walls.  It was a hard room.  The
perfect place for torture and murder.

   The door to my basement is in the kitchen, and it opens onto an
unfinished wooden stairway.  I looked down the stairs, shrugged, and threw
Tyler down them.  I grabbed some supplies from around the house before
following him, and he was already alive again by the time I got there.

   He was right at the bottom of the stairs so, theoretically, I needed to
step over him to get into the basement.  Fuck that.  I stepped on him
instead.  Directly onto his head, to be precise.

   It felt good to be so reckless with him.  I kicked him in the head with
my other foot as I stepped down onto the floor.

   I dropped my supplies at my feet, grabbed Tyler's ankle and lifted him
up by it, banging his head against the hard concrete in the process.  I
wanted to test the boundaries of his ability, so I threw him a few feet
away.

   Walking over to him, I kicked him in the stomach.  His breath blew out
of him.

   I kicked him again, this time in the head.  His body spun slightly and
tumbled a few feet.  It had hurt my toe a little, though.  So I ran
upstairs and put on a pair of heavy boots with steel toes.

   The next time I kicked him, he flew into the air and crashed into the
wall.  I picked him up and lightly tossed him into the air, kicking him on
his way down.  He made it halfway across the room.

   Coincidentally, he came back to life again right after hitting the
ground.  As he started screaming, I stomped on his head, quieting him
immediately.  Another kick and he hit the opposite wall.

   When he came back to life, I started walking on him, like he was a sheet
of bubble wrap and I wanted to feel him pop beneath my feet.  I jumped hard
on his exposed stomach, and a flood of blood issued from his mouth.

   I kicked him in the face a few times, while waiting patiently for him to
come back.  When he did, I ground my heel into his throat, watching him
suffocate again.

   I quickly grew bored of this particular treatment, however.  Looking
over at my pile of supplies, I spotted a baseball bat.

   I swung the bat at him, pushing him toward the center of the room.  He
was face-down, sprawled on the floor, blood flowing slowly from his nose
and mouth, creating a small pool beneath him.  His breathing was wet and
sticky.

   A sob tore out of his throat as the bat descended on his sweet little
butt.  Again, it fell on his butt, even harder this time.  He cried softly,
running out of the energy to so much as whimper.  That I could fix.

   Flipping him over with the bat, I stood above his head and took careful
aim.  Then, as if wielding a hammer, I brought the end of the bat down on
his exposed cock and balls.  An ear-splitting scream preceded a gush of
puke.

   Lifting the bat high, I brought it down with all my strength.  He
skidded across the floor, more puke pushing out of his mouth and mixing
with his blood.

   Next I went for his head, I wanted to beat his face to a bloody pulp. 
And I did.  The bat crashed into his fragile face, breaking his nose and
forcing more blood out of him.

   He had never been as beautiful as he was then, with his ruined,
blood-covered face.  My cock throbbed in appreciation.  Kneeling over him,
I forced my cock past his bloody lips.  His mouth and throat were slick
with blood as I fucked him to death again.

   I needed no more encouragement than the sight of his mangled face.  In
just a few efficient thrusts, I was cumming down his throat once more. 
When I pulled out, I realized that he was dead.  Then his face reformed and
he started coughing my cum from his throat.

   To help him out (or something), I slapped him across the face.  He
screamed in frustration.  I laughed at him.

   - - -

   When consequences no longer matter, you can try anything once, just to
see if you like it.  With that in mind, I grabbed a rope from my pile of
supplies, looped it around a rafter in the ceiling, and tied one end
loosely around Tyler's neck, leaving him on the floor.

   Then, holding tight to the other end, I yanked on it.  My baby boy flew
up into the air like a rocket, bouncing off the ceiling before coming
halfway back down.  The rope went taut, and his neckÂ--if it had not done
so alreadyÂ--probably snapped.

   I waited for him to come back to life.  The rope was tight around his
neck still, so he was close to dying again already.  I yanked hard on the
rope again, then let it go.

   He hit the rafter, then landed heavily on the concrete floor.

   I bent down and removed the rope from around his neck.  I had a better
idea.

   Pulling the rope off of the rafter, I looped it instead around one
closer to the concrete wall.  Then I tied Tyler up by his ankles.  I pulled
on the rope until his feet were at the height of my head, and tied the rope
to a nearby pole.

   There is no such thing as overdoing it when your victim comes back to
life no matter what you do.  So I jogged to the other end of the room,
turned on my heel and ran at a full sprint toward Tyler.

   He was swinging slightly back-and-forth, crying his head off, face red
both from exertion and from being upside-down.

   I leapt into the air five feet away, twisting my body as I did so, and
slamming my feet into his head.  I struggled to catch myself as Tyler
catapulted toward the wall.  Dead instantly, for sure, if my kick had not
done the deed already.  Looking at him then, he was not cute in the way
that people always coo about.  But he was sexy as hell to me.

   I waited, watching him swing around on the rope.  When he came back to
life, I grabbed him and held him still so he would stop flying around. 
Aiming for his face, I put all my weight into a punch that got him right in
the nose.

   Blood poured freely from his broken nose, and when he swung back toward
me, I aimed another punch at his mouth.  More blood flowed from two split
lips.  When he swung back again, I aimed for his chest.

   Then his stomach, then his head, then his chest, again at his chest,
three times into his soft stomach.  Into his back, his front, his back, his
front.  I even threw a few punches right at his little cock and balls.

   A grown man would have had a difficult time surviving this treatment.

   At some point, all the blood vanished, so I had to start all over again.
Babies make the best punching bags.

   I was tired of him swinging around, though, so I retrieved a second
rope. I tied one end to a pole, looped it a few times around his neck, and
tied the other end to another pole.  He looked good hanging there, just
waiting to be beaten to death over and over again.

   His mouth was wide open, of course, and an almighty scream was issuing
from it.  So I aimed a punch directly at it.  I decided then that I was
getting ready to cum, and I wanted him bloody while I used him.

   A few minutes and a few dozen punches later, I was happy to see that
even though he looked half-dead, he was still fully alive.  I pulled over
the chair and jumped up on it: he was at the perfect height to suck my
cock.

   His bloody lips stretched over my cock and I once again thanked god that
his throat was perfectly tight.  The rope around his neck held him in place
while I forced myself deep into his throat.

   I lowered my head a little and took his tiny cock and balls into my
mouth.  Biting down hard enough to cause him even more agonyÂ--but not hard
enough to get a mouth full of dismembered bitsÂ--I began my ruthless rhythm
of fucking his throat.

   I was on the edge immediately, his throat was gripping my length like a
vice.  So I returned the favor and gripped his cock between my teeth.  I
tugged on it viciously, like a dog with a chew-toy.

   After several minutes of reveling in his pain, I went as deep as I could
with my cock, and seconds later I was cumming.

   As I came down from my high, I noticed that he was still alive, although
he had passed out from the pain at some point.  My cum was dribbling past
his lips.

   Giving his cock a final cruel twist with my hand, I then grabbed one
part of the rope in each hand and strangled him with it.  Bending down, I
made out with him while he suffocated to death.  I could taste my cum on
his lips.

   Once he was dead, I pulled away.  When he came back to life red-faced
and crying, I decided it was time to let him down.  After removing the rope
from around his neck, I untied the rope suspending him from the rafter and
watched him fall head-first to the floor.

   Surprisingly, he survived falling on his head.

   - - -

   When I had first started raping Tyler, I had taken it slow, stretching
his hole over an entire week before forcing him to take my cock.  I was as
careful as possible, while still fulfilling my need for him.

   But being careful no longer mattered, so I could prioritize hurting him
instead.

   I laid him face-down on the chair, letting his legs dangle over the
edge. They kicked at me uselessly.  With the rope, I tied his upper body
firmly to the chair.  Then I spread his little legs apart as far as I
could, tying them to opposite legs of chair.

   His ass was fully exposed to me and I immediately went to work trying to
push my index finger into him.  Why bother with lube?  Of course it would
be more difficult for me to get in, but that also meant it would be more
painful for him.

   Tyler started twisting his head around frantically as soon as my
fingertip made contact: this was an activity he remembered all too well. 
His little brain had learned to connect anal stimulation and anal agony. 
For all the good it did him.

   Pressing against his miniature opening, I felt his dry hole resist my
finger.  Not the tightness of his hole, per se, but also the friction of
dry skin.  I jabbed at it, gaining a centimeter or two.  His clenched
opening dragged against me while Tyler whimpered in earnest.

   With my free hand, I slapped his ass check.  This too, he remembered
well.  The crying started, and I suspected it would continue for a long 
time, as I had no desire to rush through my torture.

   Eventually, my finger was embedded up to the knuckle.  I pulled back
lightly, tugging on his insides - feeling his ass spasm around me.  I
twisted my finger halfway, savoring the traction it found as it twisted his
rectum as well.

   When his crying was in danger of subsiding, I pressed the index finger
of my other hand against his hole.  It was much harder to work inside, and
I had to wriggle it around, while pulling lightly on Tyler's entrance with
my already-entrenched finger.

   Once I had worked the two fingers into him, I bent them around his anal
ring, lifting my arms parallel to the floor.  There was a surprising amount
of strength in his ring, which was clamped around my fingers.  I was
excited to break Tyler's perfect little ring.

   I started to pull my hands apart.  At first, his hole simply stretched
open wider, growing wide enough for me to shove in another finger.  Then,
with thirty more seconds of effort, I got a forth finger inside my boy's
hole.

   He grew hysterical.  He wanted me out and tried to express this by
crying and screaming.  Unfortunately for him, what I wanted was to hear him
cry and scream.

   I continued to stretch his entrance open, working hard against the
resilience of the muscle.  Shortly thereafter, however, I noticed a tear
suddenly appear in his straining ring.  It was so beautiful, the kind of
cruelty that I had always wanted to inflict on him.

   I yanked my hands apart.  The tear lengthened.  Blood spilled out of
him. He gave up on crying altogether and resolved to scream loudly and
exclusively.  Another tear appeared on his ring and I watched as it, too,
grew longer.

   I stopped pulling long enough to squeeze two more fingers into the
bloody, gaping baby hole.  It was, of course, only the entrance that had
been torn, so there was not much blood, but I knew I would soon be ripping
apart even more of him.

   I grinned appreciatively when his flesh split apart in a third spot and
blood started running from it.  My hands were coated in fresh blood at that
point, all of it straight from my one-year-old son's virgin ass hole.

   All three of the rips were on the top and bottom of his ring, which was
unfair.  So, as I added the fourth fingers of both hands to him, I moved my
hands so that they were positioned vertically instead.  The stretched but
still untorn sides of his anus begged to be destroyed.

   Who was I to deny them?

   Like opening a bag of crisps, I tugged on his ass and it came apart
before me.  Two long fissures in his flesh formed almost immediately.  The
blood had flowed down his crack, over his balls, and along his penis, to
dribble seductively onto the floor.

   "Look at the mess you've made, Tyler," I scolded him.  "I'm going to
have to punish you, or you'll never learn." And punish him I did.

   While his entrance was truly destroyed, past the length of my fingers,
he was still a virgin.  Removing one hand, I made a fist with my other and
pushed inside.  He offered no resistance at all until his hole was kissing
my wrist.  But now I had his blood as lube and I was able to feed him my
fist with only a little grunting on my part.

   Now he bled for real.  I had torn a path deep in him and continued to
push until I was fist-bumping the roof of his intestines.  The blood soaked
my arm down to the elbow, at which point it fell onto my thigh and spread
slowly to my penis.

   The second I felt his warm blood make contact with my throbbing cock, I
knew it was time to fuck him.  With a few parting punches into his stomach,
I drew my arm out slowly.  Immediately, it was replaced with my cock.  He
was looser than a fucking shirt sleeve, but he was warm and wet, and he was
my baby boy.

   As I fucked him, I wrapped my bloody hands around his throat and
strangled the life out of him.  To teach him a lesson about making a mess,
I pushed my hand into his screaming mouth, making him taste his own ass
blood.

   "Look what you make daddy do, Tyler.  You're such a bad boy."

   Bending down, I forced his head to the side and made out with him while
he ran out of oxygen, my balls impacting wetly against his and my cock
making sucking noises as it slid easily in and out.  I could taste his
blood on his lips and tongue, but that was not important.

   In fact, I bit down hard on his soon-to-be-blue lips until they were
bleeding into our mouths.  I grunted against his tortured mouth as I
orgasmed into his tortured bowels.

   He was still alive then, so I removed my hands from his throat and let
him suffer while I recovered from the ordeal.

   I prodded gently at his bloodied lips with my tongue.  I was starting to
enjoy the taste of his blood.

   - - -

   There is a limit to what you can do to a baby, that does not apply to
older children.  With this fact in mind, I had purchased some toys shortly
after Tyler was born that I planned to use after he grew up to be more
resilient.

   Given recent developments, however, I was able to use them to my heart's
content.

   One such toy that I had been especially excited to use is a long-bladed
nasal speculum.  What is that, you ask?  Well, a speculum is a medical
instrument used to pry open bodily orifices to allow medical professionals
to more easily view various parts of the body.  The most common type of
speculum is the vaginal speculum, which is used (for example) during
cervical exams.

   However, many types of speculum exist, including the nasal speculum,
which is used to inspect nasal passages.  They resemble scissors, except
for two things.  First, the end is conical and is at a right-angle to the
handle.  And second, when the handle is closed, the speculum head opens
instead of closing.

   So, the doctor inserts the speculum head into your nose, squeezes
lightly on the handle, and peers inside of your nose.

   What does that have to do with Tyler and I?  Well, let me just say that
I was not going to be using the speculum on his nose.

   The reason I had purchased a nasal speculum specifically, is that its
head is thin enough to fit inside a young boy's urethra.  In fact, this
particular speculum was thin enough to fit inside of a baby boy's urethra,
with little force.

   I returned then to the basement, carrying Tyler one-handed by his cock
and ball sac, accidentally (though not regretfully) banging his head off of
more than a few walls on our way downstairs.

   Once I was in the basement, I used the rope again to secure Tyler to a
post, by tying it around his legs, hips, chest, and head.  When I was done,
he was virtually immobile, with his head slightly above mine.  Of course,
his screams were a constant reminder that he was not enjoying this
treatment.

   Just for the hell of it, I flicked him in the eye with my finger.  His
screams intensified while I pulled over the chair (so I could sit down) and
grabbed the speculum (so I could torture him).  When I sat, his little
penis was at eye-level.  Leaning forward, I took it in one hand and the
speculum in the other.

   Holding the handle fully open - which kept the head fully closed - I
held it against his urethra.  As I said, the end of the speculum was thin
and conical, so it slid inside Tyler fairly smoothly.  But at about the
halfway point, it required more effort.  By the time I had pushed it all
the way inside, it was clearly causing my boy some pain as his urethra was
stretched to its limit.

   Wrapping one hand around his stuffed cock, I used my thumb to keep the
speculum in place, careful not to obscure the show.  With my other hand, I
oh-so-slowly began to squeeze the handle of the speculum.

   I cannot describe the thrill that accompanied this act.  In case you are
confused, the tool which was filling the length of my 1-year-old son's cock
is designed to stretch things open.  Specifically, it was designed to
stretch open a nostril.  Compare the diameter of your nostril with the
diameter of your urethra.  If you are still confused, let me clarify:
Tyler's cock was about to bleed.

   I can safely say, Tyler did not enjoy it.  His protests grew louder even
before anything had visibly happened.  His cock was being slowly split
open, from the inside.  My breath had stopped, I could not even blink, my
body was entirely still.  Except for my hand, which ruthlessly continued to
squeeze.

   I knew, at that moment, that this would become a commonplace torture for
Tyler.  I would have plenty of opportunities to take it slow in the future,
I decided.  So I abandoned my patience, and clenched my fist closed around
the handle.

   I felt through the speculum when the resistance suddenly disappeared, as
his urethra was ripped apart.  His screams became deafening.  Blood flowed
down my arms and onto the floor.  Not a torrent or anything, but more than
you would want coming from your cock.

   Now that the inside of his cock was a little roomier, I realized that I
could probably get the speculum deeper inside him.  It was already filling
the entire length of his cock, but there was no reason to stop there.  I
opened the handle of the speculum again, nearly cumming at the sight of his
torn cock as the blades came together.

   One end of his cock slit had been torn apart, the opening now twice as
long, blood flowing freely from it.  If I kept stretching it, his cock head
would probably split in half.

   For the moment, however, I wanted to go deeper.  I pushed the thin head
further inside him, manipulating his cock roughly around the sharp bend
between the blades and the handle.  I kept going until his destroyed glans
were kissing the hinge of the speculum.  His cock was bent near the base,
to accommodate the head of the speculum.

   I made a mental note to find something that could do even more damage to
his urethra.  In the meantime, I squeezed the handle together again.  His
cock bulged obscenely around the opening metal blades.  My hands were now
coated in his blood.  With the hand that was still gripping his cock, I
started squeezing and sliding it up and down on the speculum.

   I think I had actually cummed from the pleasure by then, without even
really noticing it.  His ruined cock was so beautiful.  I figured there was
no point to stop, so I squeezed the handle together and started to force
the entire speculum inside him, handle and all.  The bulge disappeared past
the base of his cock, now deep inside him, shredding his urethra where I
could no longer even see it.

   At that point it became truly difficult to go any further.  But I was
not interested in stopping.  He was a fountain of blood by then, and would
eventually bleed to death from his urethra.  But I would make him take the
entire thing before that happened.

   That is when I discovered that rotating the handle helped to drill it
in. I would turn it a few times in one direction, then back the other way,
and gradually the end of the handle was inside his cock head.  To get
deeper, I was able to follow it with my finger.

   Before it disappeared fully inside of him, I stopped.  I was slightly
worried about getting it out of him, even after he came back to life fully
healed.  I did not want to do surgery just to get it out.  That is a step
too far, even for me.

   So with the cruel device embedded inside of my baby, I stood on the
chair and used his blood-covered thighs to get off.  They were tied
together tightly, and I was able to slip between them, using them in place
of his inaccessible asshole.

   I fucked him like this for a few minutes, my pubis impacting hard on his
cock with every thrust.  Fresh blood continued to flow, keeping his thighs
slick and inviting.

   Finally, my orgasm came over me, and I headbutted him in the face as I
ejaculated between his legs, grinding myself against him.

   I allowed myself several minutes to recover before sitting back down to
remove the speculum.

   After I had finally managed to remove the speculum, I examined what was
left of Tyler's still-bleeding cock.  His urethra was stretched so wide
that I could not resist sticking my finger inside of him again.

   I was easily filling the entire length of his cock.  I kept pushing, my
finger going fairly deep.  It felt amazing to have his bloody cock wrapped
around my finger.  I wondered idly if I could stretch him wide enough to
fit my own cock inside of his.  But I figured that mine would be too big:
if I could stretch his wide enough, it would no longer resemble a cock
anyway.

   What I did do, however, was put the tip of my cock against his gaping
urethra and piss.

   - - -

   It should come as no shock to learn that Tyler does not require food or
water.  Every time he comes back to life, it is as a healthy baby boy,
fully fed and hydrated.  I am sure that he would die of starvation or
dehydration like anyone else, but I kill him several times a day, so that
theory has never been tested.

   I, however, still required food and water.

   One day, after many hours of brutalizing and murdering my son, I had
worked up quite the appetite.  There is a family-style restaurant near my
house that does take-out and delivery.  So I ordered in fish and chips.

   While I was waiting for my food to arrive, I wondered if there was a way
to simultaneously torture Tyler and eat my meal.  I came up with the idea
to use him as my dinnerware.

   He squirmed and squealed as I used the rope to secure him face-up to my
table.  The rough fibers of the rope rubbed at his skin as he struggled.  I
secured his head first, then his arms and legs.  Finally, I secured his
waist and chest: I did not want my dinner plate bouncing all over the
table.

   Shortly before I expected my delivery guy to show up, I realized that I
had not prepared anything to drink.  I popped downstairs to retrieve my
ring gag.  A ring gag is just what it sounds like.  A metal ring that fits
inside the mouth, forcing it open, preventing your victim from closing
their mouth or speaking.

   This ring gag was on the small side, but still a bit too big for Tyler.
Tears flowed freely from his bloodshot eyes while I tried to force the
metal past his lips.  When it slipped inside, his lips were stretched
almost to the point of splitting.

   His mouth looked so inviting, wide open and pointed at the ceiling.  You
could tell he was crying by looking at him, but he was having trouble
making as much noise as usual, with his jaw hanging open.

   I bent over the table and slipped my tongue into his gaping mouth,
licking all along the inside of his cheeks and lips.  I was able to fit my
teeth slightly past his lips, so I sucked his tongue between them and bit
down on it.  He pulled away instinctively, only increasing the pain he was
in.

   I was just starting to bite down harder...

   The doorbell rang.  I sighed as I pulled away, streams of our saliva
still connecting us.  I wiped my lips on the back of my hand, then quickly
poured a glass of water into Tyler's mouth.  I like a cold glass of water
with my meals, of course, so I added two ice cubes to his mouth, as well.

   I was rock-hard when I answered the door.  I could not keep the smile
off my face when I paid the guy.  I knew that Tyler was drowning to death
barely twenty feet away.  After I closed the door, I was back to Tyler.  I
was excited for the new experience we were about to share.  I could hardly
wait.

   I carefully placed my fish and chips onto Tyler's exposed stomach,
making sure that it was hot first.  I knew the grease from the deep-fried
fish and fries would be searing hot to my toddler's sensitive skin.

   Now, I enjoy dipping my fries in ketchup and vinegar, and I figured
Tyler's face was as good a place as any to hold the condiments.  Into one
eye, I squirted a mound of ketchup.  Into the other eye, I poured some
vinegar.  His eyes were squeezed shut at this point, of course, so I had to
dip my fingers in the vinegar to pry at least that eye open.

   He was in the process of drowning for probably the second time, and he
was an erotic sight.  I jabbed a bendy straw into his mouth and took a few
sips of water.  Torture was exhausting.

   Finally, I picked up the plastic knife and fork that the restaurant had
thoughtfully provided, and started to eat.  I used to knife to cut my fish
into smaller pieces, making sure to scrape it along his flesh, as well.  It
was far from sharp enough to actually draw blood, but it would be painful
nonetheless.

   While I chewed, I poked Tyler idly with my fork, jabbing his stomach
playfully.

   Whenever he died, I would stop eating for the thirty seconds it took him
to come back.  And every time he came back, I would use my fork to pull
open both of his eyes, ensuring that they were constantly experiencing the
burning pain of having vinegar and ketchup in them.

   When I was finished my meal, I untied Tyler and dropped him into the
sink face-first.  Turning on the hot water, I washed the remains of my meal
from his face and stomach.  After he was cleaned up, we returned to the
basement for some after-dinner recreation.

   I dropped him to the floor, knocking the wind out of him and banging his
head against the concrete.  The ring gag was still in his mouth: he just
looked so damned cute like that.

   I thought about kicking him around for a bit, but his blood-shot eyes
gave me a better idea.  I wanted to continue torturing his eyes, and I had
some spare change in my pocket.  Fishing out one of the bigger coins I had,
I compared its size with his eyes: just about the same.

   I grinned like an idiot while I got down on my knees and straddled his
face between them, squeezing my legs together much more forcefully than
necessary.  With his head held completely still and his mouth forced open,
all he could move were his eyes, which were screwed shut.

   I used my thumb and forefinger to grab the lower eyelid of one of his
eyes, yanking it down as far as it would go.  Then I slipped the coin
between his eyeball and his eyelid, fitting it snugly in his eye socket. 
The parts of his body that could still move were wrestling with the pain
beneath me.

   Firmly pressing the coin against his eye, I pulled his eyelid back up,
covering part of the coin.  Then I grabbed the upper eyelid and stretched
it over the top of the coin.  When I pulled my hands away, I could still
see the coin through an opening between his eyelids.

   Because of the way it was wedged in, Tyler could neither close his eye
fully nor open it wide enough to release the coin.  I tapped the metal with
my fingernail a few times.

   Retrieving another from my pocket, I went about stuffing his other eye.
I pressed the edge against his eye and slid it up and under his eyelid,
pushing it halfway in.  Then I flattened it to his eyeball, pressing it
firmly against the other eyelid, until it was forced down.  It slipped back
over the coin on its own, wedging it in place.

   By looking at his face, I could tell that his body was reflexively
trying to screw his eyes shut.  Which obviously did nothing but drastically
increase the pressure that the coins were applying to his eyeballs.

   That is one of the greatest pleasures of torturing a baby: they are so
stupid that they will continue doing something even though it only causes
them more pain, like screaming for hours on end from an increasingly raw
throat.

   At that point, I was on a roll.  I realized that there was no reason to
kill Tyler.  I could continue to apply torture devices to his body one by
one, worsening his pain and distress steadily over the course of hours or
days.

   He did not need to die for me to cum: just looking at his face I was on
the edge of cumming already.  The fact is, the more pain Tyler is in, the
more intense my orgasm becomes.

   I left him on the floor for a minute while I collected several more toys
for us to play with.  He took the opportunity to roll around on the cold,
hard floor, seeking release from his already considerable agony.  He did
not find it.

   Straddling his head again, I targeted his ears next.  Ears are far from
exciting, but there is no reason to ignore them.  I tugged on his ear,
wrapping my hand around it and balling it up tight.  Then I used several
rubber bands to hold it in place.

   After repeating the procedure with his other ear, I flicked them both
several times, enjoying how red they were getting.

   Next up was his nose and I had the perfect tool for the job.  After all,
nasal speculums are literally made to be used on the nose.  I jammed the
head of the speculum into one of his nostrils, and closed the handle.  I
clenched my fist tighter and tighter around it as the resistance increased.

   I was unsure of how far I would go.  Would I stop before he started
bleeding, or after his nose was practically torn off his face?  As his
nostril was stretched wider, I knew that at the very least, I wanted to see
his nose tear around the invading instrument.

   You might be thinking that it must be difficult to split open someone's
nose like this.  But, actually, it is really easy to do, even to an adult.
Frankly, a child could probably have done it to a baby.  I, on the other
hand, could definitely do it.

   I increased the pressure of my grip until the resistance suddenly 
diminished.  I slackened my grip and watched as blood welled up along a 
split that had appeared in his skin, especially pronounced on the edge of 
his nostril.

   With that achievement, I grabbed a second nasal speculum I had to hand
and stuck it inside his empty nostril.  His once-cute button nose was
bulbous and bloody as I clenched both fists around the metal handles. 
Eventually the other side of his nose split apart as well.

   I tried to push the speculums further into his nose, but they quickly
met bone and I could push them no further.  Satisfied for the moment, I
used some clear tape to hold the handles closed and then secure the
speculum heads inside of Tyler's nose.

   When I took my hands away, he looked part-robot, with metal in his eyes,
mouth, and nose.  But he was still my baby boy, a fact which my cock had
not forgotten.

   Yanking him out from between my legs, I lifted him up in my arms and
started making out with him, smashing myself against his pried-apart lips.
I slipped my tongue past the metal ring, running it along his gums,
prodding his wriggling tongue.  His mouth was pretty dry from being exposed
to the air for so long, but I soon fixed that.

   I continued to kiss my baby, using a free hand to explore his tortured
head.  I twisted his ear in my fist, pressed my thumb against the coin in
his eye, and ground my thumb against the steel in his nose.

   It occurred to me almost too late that I was blocking his air supply
completely, with his nose stuffed with metal and wrapped in tape, and my
mouth pressed to his.  When I pulled away, he gasped weakly for air, and I
saw his dark red face.

   Giving him a few minutes to recover, I instead kissed and sucked on his
smooth neck, licking along the length of his jaw.  He continued to rasp
breath into his lungs, which made me endlessly horny.

   He needed to feel more pain, I figured, so I started biting his jaw
instead of licking it.  I took his whole chin between my teeth and clamped
down on it.  I ground my teeth against his chin until I tasted his blood.

   It was time to torture his tongue, then.  Reaching into his mouth with
my fingers, I grabbed it with my fingernails and drew it out as much as I
could.  With it held tight, I attached two alligator clips to his tongue,
one on either side of the tip.  The teeth bit into him, adding even more to
his pain.

   I tied a piece of string the end of each alligator clip, then pulled on
one until it threatened to let go.  Finally, I drew the string along his
cheek and tied it tight around his ear.  I repeated this with the other
clip, tying it to his other ear.

   His tongue was sticking out of his gaping mouth, blood collecting on the
two clips as they tried to tear his tongue apart.

   He was beautiful.  I had started on his eyes thirty minutes before, I
can hardly imagine how much suffering I had forced on him.  And in all that
time, I had resisted the temptation to kill him.

   The next toy that Tyler and I played with was a simple quick-release
belt.  By which I mean a standard belt except that, instead of a metal
buckle, it has a quick-release plastic clip.  In order to detach the belt,
you just squeeze the sides of the clip and it comes apart instantly.

   I looped the belt around Tyler's neck, clicking the clip into place. 
Slowly, I adjusted the belt, tightening it gradually until it was cutting
off Tyler's air supply.  While he was suffocating again, I went about the
process of tying a string around one of his little balls, stretching out
his scrotum and keeping his balls separate.

   Then I wrapped a string around his other ball.  When I was done, his
testicles were sticking away from his little cock in opposite directions,
the skin of his sac stretched taut.

   Flicking each of his balls lightly, I watched as his face turned redder.
Then, before he even came close to death, I casually unclipped the belt and
allowed him to breathe again.

   "Having trouble breathing, sweetie?" I tweaked his testicles.  "Don't
worry, baby, you'll forget all about that once I get started down here."

   I reclipped the belt around his throat, tightening it a little more,
just for fun.  I thought about just continuing to tighten it.  But he had
more torture to endure before I gave him the temporary relief of death.

   As Tyler worked on running out of oxygen again, I began work on his
balls in earnest.  First was an old-fashioned mouse trap.  I carefully
plied back the spring-loaded arm, before setting the trigger, taking care
to keep my fingers around the edges of the trap.

   After it was set, I laid Tyler's vulnerable testicle over the mouse
trap, and used his hand to unlatch the trigger.  Wham!  I knew that an
immense wave of agony and nausea had just shot through his little body.

   I worried that he might puke, causing him to drown prematurely with the
belt tied so tight around his throat.  But he was a trooper and managed to
keep it down.  He was, however, looking close to death.  I decided to
chance it for a few more seconds.

   Resetting the trap, I placed his whole ballsac against the wood. 
Expecting him to puke for sure this time, I held my fingers against the
clip while I prepared to crush his balls.  When it looked like he was an
instant away from passing out, I quickly unclipped the belt. And before he
had the chance to breath, I triggered the mouse trap.

   Vomit rushed out of his mouth.  I left the trap attached to his balls as
I turned him onto his stomach, to prevent him from drowning to death on the
puke in his mouth.  The trap pressed against the hard floor, twisting his
balls for me.

   Once he was breathing again, I turned him back over and removed the
mouse trap.  The vomiting had put strain on his tongue and the alligator
clips attached to it, causing more bleeding.  Not to mention the blood I
could see gathering beneath the tape that covered his nose.

   I experienced a genuine moment of cognitive dissonance then, as I looked
down on my son.  My son!  What had I done to him?  He was a mess, in more
pain that many people experienced in their entire lives.  And I was
intentionally inflicting that pain on him.  Not because he deserved it, but
because it made me feel good.

   Fuck, like really good.  I felt amazing, even as I questioned my
actions. And my cock was getting impatient.  It was time to unload.

   With my emotions back under control, I reclipped the belt around his
throat, accidentally pinching his skin in the clip.  Oh well.  I got some
string and tied it very tightly around his ballsac, then ran it up to his
ear.  With the string pulled as taut as it would go, I wrapped it around
his ear several times.

   He was still squirming, of course, and now every squirm put more stress
on his balls.  I particularly enjoyed it when I came up with ways to make
Tyler hurt himself.

   Before fucking him and finding my release, I had to do something to his
cock.  Impatient as I was, I went with a classic.  A simple sharpened
wooden pencil.  Did I stab him with it?  I suppose I could have, but there
were better instruments for that sort of torture.  No, first I spat on his
cock head, then I forced the pointy end of the pencil into his tiny little
opening.

   It required a lot of force, but eventually his urethra tore open and
then the pencil slid inside him fairly easy.  Nothing compared to my work
with the speculum but I was on the edge as it was.  When the rubber eraser
disappeared inside, I used a small piece of duct tape to secure it inside.

   He needed to breathe again at that point, so I released the belt and let
him.  After he had his breath back, he started an awkward sort of
cry-scream.  It is not easy to do either when your nose is blocked, your
jaw is practically unhinged, and your tongue is being pulled out of your
mouth.  But bless his little heart, he tried.

   Finally it was time.  I picked Tyler up and dropped him into my lap as I
sat in the chair.  Scooping up some of the vomit that still clung to his
chest, I spread it on his hole.  My cock wanted inside as quickly as
possible, and he was a virgin again.

   I turned him to face me, so that I could marvel at his traumatized body
while I fucked him.  Then with no remorse whatsoever, I used my fingers to
tease open his hole once again, ripping it apart as quickly as possible. 
Once I felt the blood on my fingers, I lined up my throbbing cockhead, and
slipped it inside.

   After burying myself inside of him, I took the opportunity to reclip the
belt around his neck.  And, at last, I fucked him.  As I manouvered Tyler
up and down my length, the string connecting his ear to his balls was
getting a lot of use.  His ballsac was growing rather purple, and it was
not spared as the string stretched it to its limit.

   Similarly, the violent action was causing his impaled little cock to
bounce around, no doubt repeatedly stabbing the point of the pencil into
him.

   Blood dribbled slowly from his stretched lips like drool.  I pushed my
tongue into his gaping mouth, nudging the alligator clips and drawing even
more blood.  While I kissed him, I was making sure to grind my face against
his nose, jabbing the nasal speculum into his nostrils, no doubt drawing
more blood from them as well.

   Wrapping my fingers around his ears to support him as I fucked him, I
used my thumbs to press the coins even more firmly into his eyes.

   Before he died, I undid the clip around his neck and decided to remove
the belt completely.  I did not want to accidentally kill him now: he was
in too much pain to risk reducing it, even for thirty-three seconds.

   Even still, I wanted to do more harm, and I figured that his nose was
capable of providing more pain.  So I removed the tape that covered his
nose, releasing a true fountain of blood, which flowed straight into his
open mouth.  There was so much blood, in fact, that it flowed right back
out of his mouth and down his front.

   Eventually, it had run around his cock and into his crack, to further
lubricate my cock's violent rape of his ass.  As if his ass was not bloody
enough.  I smiled with pure joy.

   "That's right, baby," I grunted.  "Take my bloody cock!"

   Bouncing him on my dick, I was easily able to fit a finger into each of
his torn nostrils, with my knuckles pressed into his mouth.  Then I used
his nose tilt his head back and to the side.  This simultaneously increased
to pressure on his balls and further damaged his nose.

   I moaned like a pornstar when one of my fingers slipped out of the side
of his nose, because the tear had gotten so long that the nostril was no
more than a bloody flap of flesh.

   His nose was so damaged that there was only one way to make it worse... 

   I brought my fist down hard on his nose, breaking it and releasing still
more blood.  Both of us were covered in Tyler's blood and it was past time
that I have my orgasm.

   So I jammed three fingers into his mouth and wrapped my hand around his
jaw like the handle of a shovel, and closed my other fist around his cock
and balls.  This is the way that a baby is meant to be fucked.  With an
iron grip, I started to hammer myself into his hole.

   His blood made sticky sounds as I drew him up my length, then a thud
echoed from my thighs as I drove him back down.  My fingers dug into his
throat as I gripped him by the jaw, his balls no doubt screaming in agony
every time I lifted him up by them.

   And before I knew it, I was cumming deep inside my baby boy.  I kept
going, for as long as I could.  But when my cock became too sensitive to
the pleasure, I lifted him off of me.

   The sick fuck was still alive, begging for more torture.  I threw him to
the floor and went upstairs to shower and sleep.  Even if he died, he would
come back to life in nearly the same predicament, minus the nasal
speculums.

   - - -

   I have come to realize that it is the process of destroying Tyler that I
enjoy.  His pain has always excited me, but it has never been the goal. 
Before, when I still believed that he was mortal, I would get as close as I
could without risking life-altering consequences.

   I would beat him for hours, but never on his face and never enough to
kill him.  Fuck his throat, but hold back from strangling him to death or
collapsing his windpipe.  Fuck his ass, but only with my cock and only
after making sure he was stretched open.

   However, I had always dreamed of going further.  So much further.  I had
always wanted to ruin my son, to exert absolute control over his body. 
Pursue my sexual desire past the point that his body could handle.

   Once the opportunity to finally do so was granted to me, I tripped over
myself trying everything I could imagine.  I did things that, a week
before, would have disgusted me.  And the more time I had with my immortal
sex toy, the more demented our play became.

   It stopped being about my orgasm or his pain.  It eventually even
stopped being about my lack of concern for him or his death.  It became my
sexual obsession to break his body in more and more obscene ways.

   With that said, one of the toys that I had been keeping in reserve until
Tyler was older was a massive horse dildo.  It was taller than Tyler was
and almost as thick as my forearm.  If I could destroy his cock from the
inside, why not destroy his ass from the inside, too?

   I stood the dildo up on the ground and grew hard again instantly.  I did
not want to waste half an hour trying to force the dildo into his tight
ass, however, so I used another toy I had lying around: an anal speculum.
It was similar to the nasal speculum, though much larger.

   I shoved it roughly into Tyler's ass, pushing it all the way in.  Then,
using both hands, I forced the handle together, tearing his ass apart in
one savage motion.  The blood came immediately, but I had only torn the
entrance, I wanted him bleeding from deep inside.

   Grabbing Tyler under his arms, I held him above the dildo head.  Then I
started to lower him down onto it.  Still a tight fit, but the process was
much easier than it would have been.  His blood acted as lube and soon the
dildo was disappearing into him.

   It met resistance quickly, but I would not be deterred.  I put my hands
on his little hips and pulled him down onto the dildo, slowly ripping a
path through his body.  If you know anything about anatomy, you know that
there is a sharp bend almost immediately, as the rectum turns into the
colon.  By forcing the dildo into him, I was literally rearranging his
internal organs to make room for it.

   It felt good.  I could see the path of the dildo as his abdomen bulged
around it.  It became more difficult with every second, but I kept going.
As the bulge reached toward his sternum, I felt the dildo bring up against
the roof of his intestines.  I am not a doctor, but I was fairly certain
that if I continued, I would be punching a hole through the wall of his
intestines.

   Obviously, I continued.  And it was not easy.  I eventually had to put
all of my weight on his hips to get any further.  Then I felt his insides
give way, and the job became much easier.  I kept pulling him down,
watching as even his chest expanded around the dildo.

   He had passed out from the shock by then, and it was clear that he was
not far from death.  I had developed this desperate desire to see the dildo
protruding from his mouth, and set about my work with renewed vigor, hoping
to achieve my goal before he died.

   "Stay with me baby," I whispered, "you're doing so good for daddy. 
Just a little further."

   As the dildo reached for his throat, however, it became truly impossible
to make any progress.  So I dragged the chair over and used it to climb
onto Tyler's shoulders, tilting his head back before letting my weight fall
onto him.  We actually stayed still for about ten seconds, my weight making
no difference at all.

   Then, all at once, we dropped half-a-foot closer to the floor: the dildo
punched through his throat, into his esophagus, and shot out of his mouth,
probably breaking his jaw on the way out.  I climbed back onto the chair
and admired the ungodly sight.

   The head of the dildo was covered in blood andÂ--other stuff.  His lips
were stretched wide around it, split open at the corners.  His throat was
expanded grotesquely.  Blood flowed from his mouth and nose, not to mention
down the length of the dildo.

   I knew that he would be coming back to life within the next 30 seconds
(there was no chance of him having survived that).  But I could not guess
how his ability would reconcile the horse dildo that he was impaled upon.

   I wanted more and wondered at how to get it.  It was a dildo, after all,
so I did the obvious: I fucked him with it.  Bracing the dildo by putting
my feet on the balls, I gripped Tyler tightly around his armpits.  And that
is when he came back to life.

   He was perfectly conscious, and experiencing the pain of being impaled
by the massive dildo all at once.  Tightening my grip on him, I lifted him
off the dildo slightly, then pulled him back down.  I wondered idly at what
was killing himÂ--the lack of oxygen, the blood loss, the rearrangement of
his internal organs, the pressure on his heart.

   Then I drew him slowly off of the dildo, until it had retreated into his
mouth.  And then I yanked him back down again.

   "You like getting fucked," I said.  "don't you, faggot?" 

    He died. 

   "What's wrong baby?  Am I being too rough?"

   Still I wanted more.  I needed to open him even wider.  Crouching down
beside him, I inspected his torn asshole.  Room for more, I realized.  So I
jammed a couple fingers between the dildo and his stretched ass lips and,
with absolutely no remorse, I pulled his ass apart even further.  With a
few minutes' work, I was able to slide my hand fully inside of him.

   The entire time, he was continuously dying and coming back to life, all
while his father wreaked havoc on his body.

   By the time that my hand was in him up to my wrist, it was becoming
uncomfortably tight, cutting off my circulation.  Of course, I kept going
anyway.  With every inch of headway, his insides tore around me.  It took a
lot of strength to get inside him, but I was rewarded by the sensation of
him being ripped to shreds.

   Whenever I wanted to make more room, I would clench my hand into a fist
and twist it around for a while.  That would allow me the space to push a
little further inside.

   This was the true obscenity I had been chasing.  Nothing could be more
horrific than this, surely.  I realized that I no longer needed to
stimulate my cock: the torture was stimulation enough.  When I had had my
fill, I knew that I would orgasm.  No need to waste energy on myself, I
could put it all into Tyler.

   Unfortunately, I did reach a point where it became necessary to remove
the dildo in order to get any more of my arm inside.  So I pushed Tyler up
on the dildo by pressing my shoulder against his legs.

   As soon as the dildo head escaped his throat, I hastened to replace it
with my hand.  If he resurrected then, I knew his throat would heal and it
would be too difficult to force my hand through it.

   My efforts were finally rewarded when my fingers poked out of Tyler's
wide-open mouth.  I removed the dildo from him completely, and lifted him
into the arm by the arm that was passing right through his body.

   I cummed harder than I ever have before.

   - - -

   "Keep your eyes open, Tyler.  I want you to see this."

   I put the head of the drill into his mouth.  The attachment on the drill
was 12 inches long.  Not very wide, but that was not the point.

   Have you realized yet what the biggest advantage of Tyler's ability is?

   When someone is dead, they stop aging.  Those thirty three-and-a-half
seconds it takes him to come back to life after he dies?  Yeah, those
seconds might pass for me - but not for Tyler.

   When he is dead, time stands still for him.  Therefore, if I can keep
him dead, he can stay a one-year-old for a very long time.

   I pressed the end of the drill against the back of his throat, angling
it upward a bit.  Then I turned it on and drilled straight through Tyler's
brain and several inches into the wood beneath him.

   He came back to life approximately thirty-three seconds later.  But he
died again almost instantly.  Ten years could pass like this before he even
aged a minute.  However, because his ability was regenerative, his body
would not rot or attract flies.  I was simply pressing pause.

   I had achieved utter control over him.

   
THE END

COMMENTS? E-mail: "Sid Phillips" at:  sid.phillips@yandex.com

NOTE: More baby and toddler stories like this can be found in the
      Nepi Stories Collection located at:  www.asstr.org