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As the bathroom shower echoed beyond the door, Monroe poured his attention over his computer screen. The brightness burned his eyes as he triple-checked every piece of data and information acquired. The difficulty of blackmail cons was that the right data mattered. He had plenty of rumors about his mark, but nothing absolutely concrete beyond basic schedule and words from 'trusted' sources. None of Monroe's sources were enough to mount anything. What he needed was physical evidence. Pictures, recordings, things that could prove the mark's dark little secrets and be copied for safekeeping.

The mark in question was one Thaddeus Quint, a stag with an up and coming political career and the perfect home life. A housewife, a teenage boy who's on his middle school's baseball team and a great hitter at that, and a little girl still stuck in elementary school. How one could afford a family of four on one income in this economy was anyone's guess. It certainly wasn't from fund embezzlement, or bribes, Thaddeus was clean as a freshly washed set of undies there.

But that's not the rumor that sparked his target. No, just the results of an extra background check to find further chains to pin the buck. The streets and alleyways of society's underbelly did whisper that Thaddeus liked to partake in choice streetwalkers. Some rumors claimed his wife was into it, while others said she didn't know. Not one to judge one's love life behind closed doors, Monroe knew others would. So it all came down to Sasha's suggestion.

And, by God, Monroe felt envious about it.

The shower stream halted, and no sooner did Sasha step out with one towel wrapped around his chest and another strewn over his headfur like a beehive. The short rat smiled from the corner of Monroe's eye, "You're going to ruin your eyes like that, Daddy."

The larger rat blinked, then rubbed his eyes and leaned back. "Right, right. Guess I should reduce the brightness on this thing." Sasha tossed the towels aside, running his fingers through the long blonde headfur that reached past his shoulders when he wasn't knotted. Across the bed were his handpicked garments of the evening: black halter-styled lingerie, a short deep crimson dress, black 6-inch heels with ankle straps, and of course the gaudy jewelry like the replica diamond rings, and the false gold bracelet and necklaces.

A 'high class whore' look, as some marks had said.

As tempting as it was to watch his son dress, Monroe kept his gaze on the now darker screen. The plan was simple: Drop Sasha off at Moanique's, a fancy little nightclub known for its privacy and seedier elements, let him mingle around until he spots Thaddeus, and work his charm for a private room. There, with the hidden camera in his necklace and the bug planted in his ring, Sasha should be able to get everything they needed.

But the risks burdened him. Monroe had friends and accomplices in Moanique's, all of whom would share the rewards of success, and extreme punishment by the owner for failure.

"Daddy." Sasha snapped his fingers, pulling Monroe out of his thoughts and into the gaze of the beautiful femboy. The red dress stuck tight against his body, as if it were latex and not silk. His hair had been dolled up into twin little pigtails, perfect for special handlebars when the mood struck them. The rat could only imagine how hard a lover Thaddeus would be, and even knowing that Sasha could take it, worry still struck him.

"Hello?" The small rat waved his hand, "Earth to Monroe. Are you there?"

"I'm here." The rat stood up, only then realizing the crick in his neck. "I'm here," He groaned, trying to massage it down.

"Uh huh..." His son looked up with concern, "Why don't you take a seat at the bed."

"I'm fine. We really need to get you to-"

"Bed," the little rat snapped, letting his bracelets jingle as he pointed towards their kingsized safehouse bed. "Now." Monroe blinked, stunned by his son's dominance for a moment before giving a smile and a shrug. Springs creaked under his behind with his ass sinking into the mattress, followed by the pressure of Sasha's knees from crawling around behind him. "Gosh, you are just so tense," He muttered, fingers looping and digging around Monroe's upper back. "What did I tell you about slouching, dad?"

"The desk is too short."

"Then get a taller desk. No excuses," Sasha chided, grinding his elbow against his father. "Stop being a cheapskate on your health. Can't have you dull out on me."

He laughed and grunted between his son's massage, "Yes, that would make our operations fall flat, wouldn't it."

"Not just our operations, but our pillow talk. You know how boring these marks are after sex. They just wanna pound, then head out of town. It's so passe."

"Boring is safe."

"Boring," Sasha reached around, hugging his father's thick neck, "Is stressful. We both need to do things, like talking for example. Something you've been silent on for a bit." There was a pause, flooding the room in silence that shattered when the boy asked, "Do you hate me sleeping with other guys?"

"What?" Monroe forced a chuckle, "Hate you? Sasha, it was my idea."

"No, it was my idea. You went along with it because the honeypot method worked with mo-"

"Don't." He held Sasha's paw softly in his grasp, "Don't bring her up. Please." Sasha's mother had been a topic he wanted to avoid for a good long while, perhaps forever if given the chance. What she did, what happened to her, it was nothing but needless stress on the mind. He needed to be sharp, to think up new tactics and find new marks. Monroe couldn't do that when stressed, despite what people say about rats backed into a corner.

Sasha leaned into him, "Fine. But that doesn't answer my question."

The large rat sighed, "I am worried when you sleep with other men. We are emotional creatures that are told to keep it locked. There's always a chance that the lock will break, and we freak out. I've heard enough stories of domestic violence to fear for you when you reel them into the web. I think 'What if they react violently to his dick' or 'what if they're too hard into play' and it rises. By the end you're fine, but it does make me worry."

"Worried, or jealous?" Sasha squeezed from behind, softly whispering into his ear. "After all, my nice stretchy hole is being pounded by other men. Thrusting wild and without abandon, like I'm some piece of meat at the market and they're going down on me with herbs and spices."

Monroe couldn't help but chuckle at his son's last line, flubbing the entire tease. "What are the herbs and spices in this case? Whips and chains?"

"And other kinks." Sasha kissed his cheek, "But are you jealous? Knowing I'm being fucked by other men?"

"Jealous?" Monroe pulled his son over him, setting out the short femboy across his lap. "Why would I be jealous? That ass, those lips," His fingers hovered over Sasha's pink lips, stopping and gripping the chin so as not to tarnish the makeup, "They're all mine to enjoy whenever you return, sweetie. And we both know that none of our marks can give you what you crave." His hand clapped down on the diminutive rat's crotch, clasping tight against the growing erection while his son shrieked in surprise. "Because deep down, we both know you need someone who'll break you." He squeezed carefully, letting the pressure build slowly around his son's orbs, "Someone who will make you forget all the tough things and life to focus on what really matters: pleasure. Our marks have ambition, but they can never take you to the true heights of debauchery you crave." He leaned in, letting Sasha's gasps brush against his face, and whispered, "A month in the basement, how's that sound for when we get home?"

In the back of his mind, Monroe heard a voice that told him to fuck Sasha right there. To force those pert lips against his cock and down the shaft until his makeup ran and eyes rolled behind the back of his head. Fuck the mark, fuck the money, just a quiet existence where he son remained his personal fucktoy forever and ever.

But even he knew the line between his fantasies and reality. "We'll talk about that later." Letting go, Monroe stood up and straightened himself. Sasha caught himself quickly, snickering as he regained his balance. "What's so funny?"

Sasha, with a noticeable bulge in his dress, grinned ear to ear and said, "You're such a bad influence, daddy."

"Of course I am. It's why you are who you are."

***

It had been two hours since Sasha stepped into the nightclub, and Monroe found himself absolutely bored on the van floor. Due to the interference in the club, and their no phone policy, he and Sasha opted for radio silence for this part of the job. Everything relied on his pretty boy's pretty ass and silver tongue.

Which left the large rat nothing to do.

Stakeouts weren't uncommon when it came to cons. Monroe had numerous ways to gain intel, but some couldn't be avoided no matter how tedious. That and him needing to be Sasha's getaway driver made it all the more necessary he be close by. Still, boredom set in, and after so many failed attempts at winning Solitaire, if it can even be won, he resounded to looking at old pictures of his son.

It was hard to believe that the innocent rat in the picture, the one dressing like a princess or playing with dolls, turned into the little slut he had today. Sasha always grimaced whenever his mother forced him into boy's clothes, with his teenage years being spent in loose fitting black goth shirts and make up he'd justify as his 'trend' or something. Monroe had a feeling his boy preferred the feminine side, and just how well he applied that black lipstick proved him right.

Then there was his eighteenth birthday. God, Monroe remembered it well. His wife had been out of the picture for a year then, and Sasha seemed intent to flirt and dazzle his way to the bigger rat's heart. He'd never touch him, not underaged. He may be a criminal, but even Monroe had standards.

But the morning of that birthday, he felt no surprise when waking up to the warmth of those sultry black lips painted across his cock. The absolute desire in those pretty eyes, caked by hours and hours of make up practice.

That's when Monroe knew he could never let his boy go.

A knock on the van door shook him out of his memory. Peering out the window, he saw Sasha standing outside with drying mascara down his cheeks. If not for the smile, Monroe would have assumed the worst and marched into the club with his fists clenched and vision red. "Mission complete." Sasha raised two fingers when his father rolled down the window.

"Already? It's only been..." He checked his watch, bewildered that five hours had passed. "Shit."

"Have you been busy?" Sasha giggled, now climbing into the passenger side. He looked down between Monroe's legs, humming with what he saw, "Feeling a little pent up, daddy?"

"That depends?" Monroe grinned, "How tired are you?" With a flirtatious little smirk, Sasha crawled over the center console. Small and dexterous hands pressed against the pitched tent on Monroe's pants, squeezing softly and grinding down the shaft.

"Oh, I'm raring to go, Daddy." Sasha unbuckled the large rat's belt and button, sensually slipping fingers down his underwear. He shuddered at his son's touch, gritting his teeth while the small rat playfully nipped at his jacket through his shirt. "Maybe you'd like a little roadhead for waiting, like a good partner?"

"Stop signs only." That one rule did nothing to stop Sasha from tormenting his father. The short rat mercilessly teased his rod, pumping and fondling the head whenever they were on the move, and tentatively licking at each rest. Monroe's knuckles turned white against the wheel, his breathing haggard while the younger rat giggled and laughed. "You're an ambitious slut, you know that?" He mumbled.

Sasha responded with a tight grip on his father's balls. "What can I say, daddy?" He whispered, "I learned from the best. Besides, no one likes a dead fish, and the mark was so generous he even sucked me off. You never did that."

"You know damn well why, slut."

All restraint shattered the moment he parked. Embracing his son's lips, Monroe's tongue suppressed the boy's and explored every inch of the little whore's mouth. He'd have dragged Sasha out of the car with his cock out if the small rat didn't remind him to zip back up. Not that it stopped his manhandling through the lobby, crashing the shortstack into the elevator wall and holding him off the floor.

Sasha's playful resistance egged Monroe to press harder, pulling him by the hair as they reached their room and tossing the diminutive rat to the bed. "Such an insatiable little slut," He growled, short of ripping off his own suit and tie and tossing them against the floor. His son grinned, arching his back and raising his ass. Pulling up the short dress, he revealed stained panties of dried seed and lust.

"Don't keep me waiting, daddy."

Cocky little cocktease. It was as if his son forgot who was in charge here. Monroe climbed up to the bed, sensually dragging his large hand up the rat's legs and pulling down the panties, exposing the cute cock hiding underneath. "Must have had quite the stretch today," He teased, pressing his thumb against his son's loose pucker. Sasha replied with a soft moan and a little booty shake, coyly biting his lip for the older rat.

In a flash, Monroe roughly dragged his son to the edge of the bed. "Little slut," He growled, pushing his cock past the sultry grin and down the rat's maw. Sasha gagged, less from his reflex and more from the sudden intrusion as his father forced him down to the base of his rod. Not that those little cries stopped him, no, Monroe knew just how much his son could take. With both hands holding tight, he slammed his hips into the rat's face, hard enough that his balls slapped against the boy's chin again and again.

"Is this how he used you?" He called out, gritting his teeth at the wet warmth enveloping his shaft and the chill that came when he pulled out. "Did he take your worthless jaw and fuck your throat like it's meant to be used? Or did he let you do all the work? Like a top dollar whore?" Monroe had enough guesses as to how the mark fucked his son, but the thought of a soft fuck only riled him up. Sasha needed to be used. Every escapade needed to end with the short rat having difficulty walking and a sore throat from raw fucking.

And he was happy to oblige the masochistic little whore.

Whatever answers Sasha gave were lost in garbles of saliva and desperate pleas for oxygen. Monroe pulled out, only to immediately smack his son's face wet with his drenched cock. "Do you like this?" He asked, noting the lipstick stains on his cock. "You like being treated like a cheap whore, struggling to breathe while I get my rocks off?" Every question came with a barrage of battings from his cock.

The little slut's smile told him all he needed. "Turn around," Monroe ordered, "Show me that ass." The short mouse giggled and twisted over, revealing his fat rump underneath his tail. Monroe saw the signs of their mark's fun, spreading cheeks with both hands to reveal bits of white seed spilling out. "That stag must have filled you up." The rat patted his son's ass with one hand, and took his discarded panties in another.

One long whiff painted the scene for him. His son's musk when they met, the stag's cologne as they grew closer, carrying the rat to a private room. He must have pulled them aside rather than off, pounding away so Sasha could keep his cute little dress.

"Gonna keep me waiting, Daddy?"

That was enough of that. Monroe lurched over his shortstack son. Stretching the panties between his hands, he pulled them over Sasha's muzzle as a combination gag and reins. "Little fucksluts don't need to speak." His growl twisted around his body, amping desires with his throbbing cock pressing against the slick pucker of his son. "They just need to sound pretty when they break."

He pistoned forward, burying his fat cock into the creamy crevice that was his son's backdoor. The panties muted Sasha's response, and Monroe pulled tight to keep it that way and steady the little bitch as he pulled out and back in. Slow first, getting himself used to the feeling of another man's seed across his cock. In a way, it worked like lube, letting Monroe thrust in and out with little fanfare.

So there was nothing to hold him back. The bed creaked and shook underneath their weight, screeching where neither could. Sasha's erection had been forced between his body and the covers, grinding away with his pretty little prostate pounded over and over. How close he was didn't matter to Monroe. His son already had his fun, the big rat needed his turn.

One slap, then another across the fat booty. He pulled his son's hair back. "Dirty little whore. You'll just open this hole for anyone. That's why you're mine, otherwise this thing would go to waste in some back alley stinking of piss."

"Daddy," Sasha bit his lip, hard enough to bleed, "Fuck, Daddy I'm so-" He shoved the brat's face into the bed.

"Shut the fuck up, little shit." Laughter escaped his gullet. Holding the short sissy down, his hips buckled until the wave hit him. He cried out, catching himself from falling atop the short rat. Sasha looked up to him, grinning proud but carrying exhaustion in his eyes.

Nothing was said for the next hour. Monroe's cock came out with a pop, and he rested beside the boy, rolling him over the fresh cumstain on the bed. Holding him with care, he curled his fingers around Sasha's headfur long into the night.

Sasha broke the silence, "Someone's been stressed."

"I suppose I have been. Kind of want a vacation." Monroe didn't have any idea where, but it sounded lovely.

"Maybe after this one, we can spend some time in the cabin?" Sasha twisted around and nestled into his chest, "Just the two of us."

Yes, Monroe thought. Just the two of them.