“Hey, son! Fetch your old man a beer, will ya!?”
My step father shouts from the living room, his deep voice boomed past the walls to reach me in the kitchen.
“...Sure! Give me a minute!” I shout back, straining my slightly squeaky voice. Only a small hint of hesitation escape with it.
I quickly put down the steak I was preparing, wash my hands, and go to the fridge to grab one of my father’s favorite beer. Gosh, that’s a weird thought. A few months ago, there wouldn’t be a favorite beer to grab. In fact, there wouldn’t be any alcohol at all in the house. My step father was a prim and proper type. He would only drink when required during business discussion, and only a few sips to be polite.
That all changed after he came back home three months ago, appearing slightly disheveled, face flushed, and evidently inebriated. He wasn’t acting badly drunk or wild or anything, at least back then. It was only obvious because I had never seen him even tipsy before in my life, so the small hints were all I needed.
Ever since then, he changed. Slowly at first, some little changes in his usual schedule, a new taste for a more casual meal, something like that. At first, I thought whatever happened that night finally loosen him up a bit. Maybe he finally got laid or something ever since mom passed, the thought whisper in the back of my mind.
But then, it accelerated. The changes became more obvious. He started buying alcohol, whiskey, gin, vodka, and beer, drinking them more and more at home. He also began to eat more, and preferring more meaty, protein-rich dishes. He started dressing more casually at home. Like, WAY more casually. From neat polos and slacks if he felt particularly relaxed, by his standard, to loose t-shirts and jeans, to tank tops and shorts. Nowadays, he just walk around the house shirtless with just his boxers to cover his private parts, showing the world his new build.
Have I forgot to mention? He became jacked. From a thin lanky man, to what my gay friends would describe as a muscle dilf. I first noticed when his loose shirt was starting to fit him better. Then, when he started wearing tank tops, the exposed arms showed the increased muscles, bulging biceps and triceps, and thick defined forearms. With more hair to boot! He was never really a hairy person, but masculine wisps dust his revealed skins. When he started going shirtless, big hairy pecs and tight muscular abs that I was certain he didn’t have a few nights prior, along with even bigger arms, broader shoulders, and thicken thighs and legs proved to me something saw amidst. People don't just change this much, this quickly.
“What’s taking you so long, kid!?” My father shouts again, reminding me of my task. His newly deepen, more masculine voice brought to mind his changed demeanor, more manly and bold ever since this started.
“I’m coming!” I reply. As I hurried along, I faintly heard what might have been amused chuckles from my destination.
I turn a corner and entered the living room, not wanting to find out if his temper grew along with his body. However, I froze on my track, came to an abrupt stop just a few steps into the room.
“Finally! Were you robbing a brewery for it or something kid?” My dad teases mirthfully for the time I took, while sitting on the couch, watching porn, playing with his bulge.
The brief glance I saw told me it was gay porn on the TV screen, of a muscular mature man nailing a younger but still hunky man. The sound of their passionate fuck reach my ear, but my eyes are glued to the big tent in my dad’s pants. The huge tool seems like it’s not even fully hard, yet somehow filled the front like the pants was a few sizes too small.
My dad notices where I was looking, and a smirk grew on his face. He stands up and slowly strut closer to me. My eyes take in his improved body. His beefy hair-covered pecs, muscular frames, and hard manly torso all seems even bigger and more masculine than the last time I saw them, keeping me mesmerized by the sexy way they moved. Wait, sexy?
He came to a stop, standing in front of me, hands pulls down the hem of his pants slightly, drawing my eyes to his delicious looking bulge. I can smell his musky scent. Manly, virile, pheromonal odour filled my lungs, sending my head into a dizzy, lustful spin.
“See what you like, boy?” He huskily says, the term sent an unexpected thrill down my spine, and blood into my crotch.
“D-Daddy?” I blurt out. I’ve never called him with that title before, but it felt strangely, pulse-raisingly right. The arousal races through my body, filling it with heat and desire.
“Don’t worry, daddy will take a very good care of you.” He soothe me with a masculine, paternal, and sex-tinged tone, while slowly pulling my head towards one of his delicious-looking erected nipples. Damn, my body feels itchy, and my shirt feels tighter...
Author Note :
Hey folks, it's been a while. Instead of finishing some of my in-progress stories, my muse decided I should speed-write a caption instead. Better than not posting anything, I suppose.
Like always, I welcome criticisms and happily melt under praises. So, feel free to leave a comment or two. English is not my first language, so any mistake caught or suggestions offered are very appreciated.