This one is sick, I'm warning you up front. It's the rotten apple in my barrel. This is not actually incest, but has a very bad vibe. The fic takes place after Jbl's beatdown of Hornswoggle in the steel cage and explains the motivation behind the disturbing hospital bit. Contains pervert Vince behavior.
"You know what I want you to do."
John Bradshaw Layfield could only nodd in response, his voice had been stolen by the sheer sickness of the request. His dark eyes drilled a hole in the carpet and his hands twisted nervously at his hat.
The smaller man stood up to his full height after he spoke, but it still wasn't enough to look the big Texan in the eye. Vince McMahon's face was maniacal, his hands clenched with rage and his eyes glowed with the glint of madness.
"You know, you know what he's done to me." he bore down on John menacingly. "He's made a fool of me in front of the world,
him and his father." The older man spat at the words.
"Hornswoggle has to pay...They both have to. They've raped me, John. They've raped me of my dignity."
Vince's muscular hand reached out, touching at the larger John's shoulder in emphasis and entreat.
"They've raped me, son."
John's eyes softened at the words, but his whole body tensed as the gentle touch turned into a disturbing caress.
"You're a good boy, John, such a good boy." the older man's tone was like honey. "You've always been like a son to me."
It was true, John had always thought of Vince as as father, but now he flinched before his eye contact, before the palatable taste of his madness.
"You love me like a son, and you've always obeyed me."
The intense eye contact grew deeper still as the old man grew so near that John could feel the heat of his body.
"I've loved you back, I love you now, son. I loved you for years."
The old man's second hand joined his first at tenderly stroking John's body.
"It's going to be hard to do what I'm asking you, but you've never failed me and I know you won't this time." The words were laced with parental authority, but the hands spoke of a different language.
John shut his eyes and repressed a shudder.
"I don't expect you to actually....." Vince's eyes dropped downward suggestively and his hands followed his eyes lead. For a gruesome moment John thought the old man might actually touch his groin.
"Don't use your body. I would never ask my good son to do that. Use something...in the room, use what you want, as long it's painful."
The vision was sickening as it formed in John's mind's eye.
The invading hands reached up to caress John's face.
"I want everyone to know. Especially Finlay. Son, I want it filmed."
No amount of self control could stop the horror from registering on John's face. His cheeks colored in shame.
"I know, son, I know. It's a replusive thought...him being small." the old man made a miserable face. "You can turn out the lights...I just want to hear it." The full lips twisted into a sickening smile and John fought the urge to gag.
"You will still love me son, won't you, If I ask you do this?
Despite his disgust, tears formed in John's eyes. Seeing the proud, strong man he looked up to reduced to a perverted lunatic by age broke John's heart into pieces.
"I love you, sir. I always will. I will always think of you as my dad."
Finally, the horrid hands withdrew their caresses and the old man turned and walked back to his desk. It was his signal that the meeting was adjourned.
John backed away slowly, sick at his heart at the terrible thing he been asked to do. When he reached the door, he turned away quickly to leave, but the McMahon's voice froze him on the spot.
"Son, I want medical reports." it was so nonchalant, as if he had asked for a menu.
John nodded and swallowed his sickness as he pulled the door closed behind him.