OOOOH i like this one omg...wandering into his room and noticing that his drawer is slightly ajar, hmmm! You hadn't snooped through your dad's things before, and something was definitely making you wanna check it out. Besides, if he asks, you can just say it was open in any case…not as if he'd ever know.

Following this, you pull it open all the way. Within, is sizeable collection of...nude photos? Not just that, but of young men just like yourself. It's uncanny in a way, some seem cut out, printed, and even slightly crumpled in use as if held for a while, though when you focus on the models, there's similar proportions, eye colour, hair, even in the very sense of pose and personality, it’s all eerily alike, but it feels a bit too...obvious.

If you'd ask anyone else they might shrug it off, but a deep warm swelling pit in your stomach at the thought of your dad only wanting a boy looking like you, being you…it was his preferred type of guy.

Nothing could stop the stirring of your own erection at the thought that maybe on several occasions your very likeness had popped up into daddy's head as he blew his load, your face appearing there instead of the other similar men as seen, legs splayed, eyes rolled back, all begging for and wanting one thing to be true, only in your voice, your feel, under his touch.

With every time you've gotten close in proximity, has he memorized your height? The size of your hands in comparison to your own? There're moments the two of you roughhouse, and you always find him grappling you, pinning you down, yet his hold on you would be ever-changing as if finding the right grip...was that just an excuse to feel out the memory of your very body so as to imagine it in his grasp, and to pair that very feeling with the sight of a body just like yours?

It's unlikely. Yet it's existence is here, plain as day that your dad has a type.

And as you think harder...wouldn't he be more secretive about something like this? One wouldn't let it lie so carelessly in a drawer that could be opened and seen so easily even on accident, and better yet, a drawer that was already suspiciously ajar...

With that last thought though, you hear the door behind you slowly close, and it's lock slowly turned. You're already too deep in, so as casually as you can, you place the pictures back down in the open drawer, ignoring how they scatter. As carefully treaded heavy steps make their way over, a pair of hands finds its way onto your shoulders, head peaking over to take a glance at the opened drawer.

"Found dad's stash, did'ja? Well...can't blame a boy for bein' curious bout dad's things, especially the type I keep so poorly hid...how about we both sit down over on the bed then, and have a good long talk about this, son?"