Daddy Owns My Ass
DADDY OWNS MY ASS
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DUTCH BROADSTREET
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SHABBY STREET
NEW YORK
© 2026 Dutch Broadstreet
All Rights Reserved
First Edition, 2026
Shabby Street Books
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The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this publication are fictitious.
No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products
is intended or should be inferred.
Book Cover by Nimble Fingers
Table of Contents
A PREVIEW OF WHAT'S TO COME
The movement of my glutes seemed to satisfy the investor, as he set his phone aside and returned his attention to my ass. He cracked his knuckles, then reached for the ring and tugged gently, appraising me critically as each love pearl popped out.
When he held the full length in his hand, he brought his nose to it, giving it a good sniff before depositing it on the drop cloth beside him. His hands returned to the Gladstone bag and he came up with a disposable plastic boat. He removed the lid and scooped up its contents in his fingers.
I craned my neck and looked down. The investor was holding a banana split cradled between two great big gobs of whipped topping. He took the whole thing with its cherries and sprinkles and chocolate drizzle and rammed it up my ass.
The sudden impact gave me a jolt, but my asshole held onto the banana without effort. This pleased the investor who offered a soft “hmm.” Then he rummaged around in his bag, producing a funnel and tube. He uncoiled the tube patiently, then affixed one end to my orifice, snaking it inches deep before holding up the other end and feeding a box of Fruit Loops to the funnel.
The sugary breakfast bits tickled my insides as the little rainbow rings made their way into my rectum. They were followed by a clutch of jawbreakers, a mound of ice cream, a sloth of gummy bears, and a gallon of milk.
My stomach ached. My intestines gurgled and whined. But I remained on my feet, huddled over the investor as he emptied a herd of animal crackers and a tub of frosting and a sleeve of Dino nuggets into the tube.
With the whole mess housed inside me, the investor fished a metal can out of his bag and stuck the nozzle into my poop chute, tipping it sideways and engaging the actuator. The contents hissed out in a flurry until all that remained was the dull wheeze of nitrous oxide.
The skinny man with the thinning hair relinquished the can to the floor and settled back on his elbows, staring up at my ass in expectation.
“Feed me,” he said.
I did as he said, working my muscle until my asshole gave up a great torrent of confetti-colored fluid. The investor shut his eyes and smiled as I showered his chest in the warm slurry. Then he opened his eyes and blinked in astonishment at the fruit of our labor—a thin, rainbow discharge, the jawbreakers lathered into a velvety puree by my ass pussy.
PROLOGUE
It's true that my fake brother liked to eat my ass. Why wouldn't he? There wasn't a boy in the neighborhood wouldn't have eaten my ass with gusto if I asked them to. Because that's how boys are, whether they like it or not. They're obsessed with the ass. Point blank.
But that business about him going sick and crazy and ending up an invalid all on account of his buryin' his face in my pillows was a total fugazi and everyone knows it. That bottachigaloop he useta hang out with was a liar and a virgin and he had it in for Angelo. That's how come he called my real Daddy in the first place—to let him know what Angelo and me was getting up to.
And when Daddy heard what that stunad had been doing to me, his only daughter, he dragged his ass across that reception hall and slammed the front daw on his head. And I am not exaggerating...