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  1. ...And Sometimes, I Get What I Want by vertical Finally. <<PART 3: ...And Sometimes, I Watch My Dad Go to Work... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My hand trembled as I turned the knob to my father’s bedroom. Careful not to make a sound, I rested my hand against the door and slowly jarred it open. ‘Slowly, slowly,’ I told myself, cringing as if my bones were shattering as the door creaked. Goosepimples flared from my neck downwards, my nerves setting themselves on fire as the fear took hold. I paused in my advance, the only sound I heard, the blood rushing through my veins as my blood pressure skyrocketed. That, and the rhythmic rumbling coming from within the room. He was still sleeping. Thank Go- The only deity in this house was my father. I had only managed to get the door open a crack, but the eerie moonlight filtered in through the large bay window at the far side of the room. The outline of a slumbering giant was in stark relief to the darkness that surrounded him, his enormous silhouette tinted in a supernatural blue light, a halo. I had to see more. I cautiously pushed against the door, the hinges once again protesting my motion. I stop once again, dread setting in as I had to make a choice, my sanity on the precipice – I either stole away back to my room, tail between legs, or push on, risking waking the demigod that slept therein. I had always been a cautious guy... that is, unless it came to lust. And succumbed I did. Bracing myself, I pushed the door open, stepping into the room. The sound it made was pure agony, like nails against a chalkboard. The fear was so intense, I couldn’t move, just standing there, my heart beating out of my chest, my temples throbbing. He was still sleeping. My father’s body took up most of his king-sized bed. He was barely clothed, his shorts, or what must’ve been his shorts, was hiked up to his pelvic girdle, his quads now simply too massive after his latest growth spurt. His torso was barely covered at all, his stringer, a thin wisp on his brutish, musclebull’s physique. The strings barely made it over his protruding chest, dense forests of hair obscuring them. The tube of the shirt was so pathetic next to his overwhelming size, it only came down to the upper portion of abgut. His enormous feet dangled off the end and his shoulders, by the gods, they almost spanned the entirety of the bed. His meaty arms, each larger than my torso, flopped off the sides of the bed. As my senses returned to me, as the adrenaline in my blood simmered, I could hear his deep breaths, like wind moving through a cavern, each exhale like a low moan. His mighty abgut, dotted with 4 visible blocky slabs protruded from his stomach. It rose and fell with each breath he took, ballooning into a rounded mass when he inhaled and ‘chiselling’ into a blocky 4-pack when he exhaled. His bulge, well, it was practically the first time I’ve seen it not in some state of arousal. I took trepid steps around him and almost tripped. An audible squelch rings out through the room and as my eyes adjust to the dim light, I realize I had stepped in another one of my dad’s cum-soaked socks. I had half a mind to take it and huff its contents, but I was already so close to the real thing. I gazed upon my prize. From this new angle, I could see that his balls and cock distended the basket of his shorts and so much that the dense forest of pubes did more to obscure the base of the bullcock growing out of his crotch than the waist of the shorts did. Heck, the band looked ready to snap at a moment’s notice. Even in the lowlight, I could make out the veins dancing along the surface of that epic spire. I was so close. I could already taste the tangy flavour of his seed, my mouth beginning to water. Those balls made so much. The were stuffed so cruelly in their prison. I would free them. I approached the bed, stepping over a pile of discarded clothing. The smell from afar was musky and pungent, but up close, the masculine aroma of testosterone practically created a barrier around him. My eyes watered, but nevertheless, I persisted. I slowly reached out my hand to the band of his shorts and gently tugged at it, hoping to release my prize. My eyes darted between my dad’s prodigious bulge and his rugged, heavily bearded face, searching for any sign of stirring. Beads of sweat formed on my brow, yet it paled in comparison to how much my father produced. His shorts and a-shirt were translucent, his hairs matted to his muscled form. The heat around him was so intense, his sweat giving him an otherworldly sheen in the moonlight. My fingers wrapped around the band of his shorts. Coarse hairs roughed up my knuckles as they dig into the fabric. And I pulled… “Shit,” I huffed under my breath. The band snagged around his waist. The combined girth of his torso and his junk was too great. I gave it another yank, but the elastic band just dug back into my fingers. This was as much as I was going to get out… At least from this angle. I readjust myself, both in position and in my crotch. My loins anticipated this as much as I did. I get closer to the bed and stand by closer to the headboard from the side. From this new vantage point, I was able to get a little further down. My fingers graze across his rough pubes and onto the steely, hot flesh of his god-prick, moist from his crotch-sweat. But it still wasn’t enough. I needed to get both hands around the band and work it down from both sides of his giant babymaker. But his crotch was just too far to reach around to both sides… Unless… I had to get on the bed. I whimpered as I nervously brought a knee up to crawl onto the bed. The shift in weight was incredible. My father was so immense, that even when I crept onto the bed to his side, I almost fell forward onto him. I carefully eyed him as he slept. With one hand and leg, I slowly crept on top of him, my ass resting on top of his abgut – there was no other choice, his girth was so immense the space between my legs was completely filled with his mass as I straddled him like I was riding a horse. I stopped in my motion, looking over my shoulder to see if he was waking, but he just laid there deep in his slumber. I rose inches with each one of his heavy breaths. If he felt any pressure against his abdomen, he didn’t show it, his breathing unimpeded, as if I weighed nothing to him. Hungrily, I looked back at his crotch. From this angle, it looked like a monument, proud and built to impress. I was ready. I grabbed at the band of his shorts with both hands and pushed it down. A smile grew on my face as more and more of his shaft was revealed. I let out a small, giddy laugh as I got about halfway down his resting meat before I felt resistance. My heart beat out of my chest. The portion already revealed was as thick as my arm in circumference, the base covered in hair, like the trunk of a small tree was growing out of his crotch. I gave the band another tug, but it wouldn’t budge any further. I tugged harder… and that was a mistake. “Ungh,” my father grunted from his sleep. I panicked, and my head shot around to look at his face. He gulped in his slumber and thrust his pelvis forward, the fabric of his shorts must’ve hiked its way into his asscrack. Shit. The force he generated with that thrust was so much, I yelped as I was thrown back, my backside meeting his upper abgut, my head wedged underneath his giant, pillow-sized, rounded pecs. I was terrified that that’d wake him for sure. But he just grunted a little. No… more pressing was what was happening to his crotch. When I fell backwards, I slid forward, down his gut such that my legs now straddled the root of my father’s pride. I leaned up, planting my hands onto the bed on both sides of my dad, my forearms brushing up against his fur-covered obliques. I watched in horror as the band dug into his shaft… and slowly contracted, rubbing against the flesh of his cock. I wasn’t sure what did it, my legs rubbing against the base of his cock, or the band of his shorts, or a combination of the two that did it, but my father’s god-cock began to fill with blood. Rapidly. I sat up, leaning forward. The spire of meat before me grew like the plants did in a nature documentary. It bloated with blood, pushing the band of the shorts obscenely until an ungodly tent formed in his crotch. And yet, it did not stop. I winced as the fabric began to fray at the seams where the leg meets the crotch. I wasn’t prepared for what happened next. The crotch of his shorts failed catastrophically. In the blink of an eye, his gargantuan bull-cock ripped right out of his shorts. But, to my horror, as it shot up, it swung further up than I had anticipated, the head of his cock, the head as big as the one perched between my shoulders, slammed right into my face, hurtling me back once again. I whimpered as I came to my senses after the impact. Staring straight forward, I was greeted with the head of his shaft, one which was thicker around than my neck. There it was, the object of my desiring. I reached forward, and tilted my head up, the crown of my head digging into the underside of my father’s gargantuan pectorals, my hair mixing with that of his cleavage. I pulled at his cock as best I could, the length giving great resistance. Shit, even my dad’s cock was stronger than I was! I had to wrap my whole arm around the shaft to bring it closer to my face. It was like wrangling an animal, I’d get it close, but then with each of his thunderous heartbeats, it’d jostle out of my grasp. Finally, I managed to line up my mouth with his cum-slit. With a few gentle rubs from my other hand, a stream of pre-seed oozed out of his length. My eyes rolled back as it the liquid touched my tongue. It was pure ecstatic overload. Fresh from the source, his pre-cum was a watered-down version of the real deal, but it still had such an addicting flavour to it; creamy, salty, briny, powerful. I needed more of it! In desperation to get more of the sweet nectar, the ambrosia of my god, I reached back. My hand searched, my fingers and the palm of my hand grasping blindly at the rough, hairy surface of my father’s titanic chest until they found purchase on my prize. The nipple was thick enough to play in my fingers like a stress-ball. I squeezed and twisted it. The man-beast groaned lowly in his sleep as I twisted harder. Just like a spigot, the flow of his pre-seed increased and I lapped it all up like the horny son I was. I thrusted impudently as I came from the mixture of the taste of my dad’s pre-cum and the sheer power that he contained. How could my meek, soft-spoken father have become such a beast, the paragon of every man’s carnal desire to be bigger, stronger and more virile than every other male? I was enraptured, I was his. I blew a load right there and I still kept humping into my god. The muscle-beast began to breath heavily and short, his arousal mounting. I flit my tongue out and drank in his essence. “Corey,” my father moaned. I wasn’t sure if he was actually awake, sleep-talking, or if it was part of a feverish hallucination. I froze, but he continued to rumble. “Oh, Corey. That’s it, please your daddy…” He was sleep-talking… But who was I to deny a god? Using my arm around his shaft, I began to really use force, using the length of my bicep and forearm to dig into his flesh as I rubbed up against him. My wet crotch, having blown already, pressed into the base of my dad’s cock. I used my sweat-matted body in its entirety to jack off my father. I squeezed my pecs and abs into his length. I rubbed my face against his cockhead like a happy pup, lapping up the river of pre-seed cascading out of his length. I dragged my tongue against the corona, the crown, of the head. His whole body shuddered at that. My other hand was busy assaulting his nipple, flicking my fingers across the nub, eliciting weak, low growls from my sleeping father. He was getting closer, I could tell. The flow of pre-cum was becoming so great, I couldn’t keep up, my face covered in a gooey mess of lubricant. The king of all shafts, the largest prick on any man, my father’s godhood, it shuddered and spasmed randomly. The sound emanating from my father’s chest, his tympanic heartbeat quickened, the sound reverberating through my skull. But before I could have my prize, something happened… I felt my father’s skin grow hot, almost uncomfortably so. It was like pressing my skin up against a hot iron. And rather than see my dad’s cock spurt… I began to see the rest of him seize up. I couldn’t see much, only able to turn my head to the side, but I could feel everything. I felt my legs being pushed uncomfortably. My father’s shaft widened, spreading my thighs apart. But at the same time, his growing, thickening quads pushed my calves inwards as they rested on his bloating balls. My vision was blotted out as the shaft before me thickened even further, obscuring the dim light of the moon from outside. And as it thickened, it also lengthened. “No,” I whimpered as I watched the head of his shaft inch up. It brushed against my nose as it ascended to greater lengths. I desperately tried to get a hold of the cockhead, but the pre-seed had slicked it up so much that I couldn’t keep it in my hand. Soon, the tip was at eye-level, the slit oozing translucent slime all over, blurring my vision. I struggled to wipe the pre-cum out of my eyes and before I knew it, as I looked up, I was staring into the pulled and taut foreskin of my father’s uncut behemoth. I whimpered as I watched the head disappear above my father’s growing pectorals. The only reprieve of this situation was that his shaft, now as thick as my thigh, wasn’t pressing so hard into me anymore, a testament to how thick his pecs had become. At the same time, his giant man-tiddies cast dark shadows over my face, twin globes protruding into my field of vision. With each laboured breath, I felt myself rising less with each inhale. I could feel his abs become less cushioned, the support underneath my back flattening. In my struggle to readjust myself, my hands touched his obliques and serrati and I could feel their definition underneath the thickening man-fuzz sprouting out of every pore. I gulped, realizing that my father was probably more shredded than me at this point. His balls gurgled, the twin pair of soccer ball-sized orbs rolled against the head of my calves as they pulled up, ready to inject their contents into my father and mix with his prostate fluids to create the most delicious nectar on the planet. As they pulled up, the momentum carried into his pelvis, my father thrusting slightly. It took seconds before the base of his cock distended, filled to the brim. The wave of cum travelled up his shaft, the veins on the surface of his shaft bulging as his flesh and skin fought to stay intact from the sheer amount of semen being forced through his urethra. It went from the base, up the shaft past my face and then out of sight. But I could still hear it. A torrent of cum exploded out of the tip, sounding like someone had thrown a balloon filled with viscous fluid against the headboard of the king-sized bed. “Hrrng, huuuh... Ugh?!” my father grunted. I froze as I felt the right side of his body begin to move, his lats shifted, his pectoral fanning out as he brought his hand up to wipe at his face. “What... the?” he moaned. “Ooooh,” he cried, the sound like that of a barn animal, low and sonorous. Another wave was incoming. Slowly, his balls once again pulled up. My father let out a loud whoop as the fluids lingered in his tubing, the beast desperate to get his liquid payload out. Veins writhed all over his body. His massive mitts came forward and grasped around his meaty length, the space made between his shaft and abs had grown large enough that he could glide his hands along his length without even touching me. It was like he didn’t even know I was there. I was just an insignificant gnat compared to him now. I was completely enclosed, no possible way for me to escape anymore, I was trapped between my father’s arms, cock, pecs and abs on all sides – and he didn’t even know. His orgasm was agony, both for him and me. His balls pulled up so slowly, so heavy and bloated with cum that it extended his mind-numbing orgasm, each load taking several seconds. As for me, I could hear, smell and almost taste his cum’s tang in the air, splashing against the headboard of the bed, going to waste. “Unng, feels so good... to grow!” he moaned. His arms tensed, every part of his body fighting for precious blood as he flexed hard. His chest and arms bursted with extra inches, his cock lurching as his orgasm continued. “Oh shit, no way Corey can’t hear this... fuck it!” he bellowed. He let loose, giving out an eardrum-shattering roar, his one hand beating furiously at his meat, the other molesting his protruding nipple, coaxing more and more cum out of his balls and prostate. “MORE!” he cried. He continued to blow load after load, his virility unceasing. The whole bed protested his demands, but his incessant hips bucked up and down to no avail. With a terrific whine, the frame of the bed collapsed, sending the boxspring and mattress to the ground, with me and my dad with it. The impact just sent a jolt through his balls and I swore his loads renewed in their size and length. Finally, after a good three minutes, his balls were no longer pumping, just spasming softly. My father was breathing slowly, groaning lewdly as his hand on his shaft massaged the length, caressed it. I could feel him reach up to wipe his face, the beast returning his hand to his sensitive nipple now with a fresh layer of cum coating it, smearing his seed all over himself like a lotion. “Shit, when’s that boy gonna come check on me? I was so loud,” my dad growled, his voice filled with lust, his hands filled with his own meat. I felt a wave of dread wash over me. “I want to breed him so bad,” he snarled, his hands still roaming up and down his epic frame. I almost mewled but kept it in my throat. There was no telling what he’d do to me if he actually found out I was right there while in his sex-addled stupor. Jesus, if he actually tried to do anything with me, he’d kill me with this thing. Thick as my leg, his shaft would scramble my organs. “Fuck,” he said, his breath heavy. “I’d kill ‘im if I tried,” he whined lowly. Well, no duh. But I didn’t expect what he said next. “But I need more,” he said hungrily. “MORE. Where is that boy… I want him to see me grow,” he rumbled deeply. In the dark, his massive hand shot out to pull at a drawer on the adjacent nightstand, now level with him thanks to bed collapsing. He pulled at it and my eyes lit up as an iridescent glow emanated from inside. He pulled a vial out, a reddish, glowing concoction held within the glass tube. What the hell was this, this definitely wasn’t what he said his doctor was giving him! “Doc says once a week,” Dad reminded himself. “But I can’t wait that long. I need to be bigger… stronger!” He uncorked the vial and I could hear him taking a big gulp. He sat up and I was flung from my hiding spot. Oh shit. I flew forward, knocking into my dad’s epic cock, but it wasn’t enough to stop me. I flew off to the side and landed across his gargantuan quads. “W-what the…?” my dad gulped, his bravado evaporating. He stood, the floor groaning underneath his weight as he stepped towards the light-switch by the entrance to his room. The light burned my eyes as he flicked it on. As I squinted, I could make out a silhouette of his form, blurry at first, but gradually coalescing into the greatest man on the planet. He stood before me in all his grandeur. In the light, and not stuck underneath his cock and pecs, I could finally see what his latest growth spurt had done to him. His arms, my God, they looked like they were hewn from granite. Veins the size of his fingers carved their way across his biceps, feeding his howitzers with blood. His legs were no different, his calves jutted out in stark relief, unable to touch one another due to the sheer size of his quads. Each of those were the size of tree trunks. His balls were slick with ball-sweat and cum, the wiry hairs matted to spheres the size of small watermelons. The shaft growing out of the root of his crotch was almost thicker around than my whole torso at this point and it stretched up to hit my father right in the middle of his chest. I looked at him slightly from the side and my suspicions were confirmed, he had a chiselled six-pack, outlined by swirls of dense fur carpeting his skin. His chest jutted out so much, his chin rested on top, the nipples pointed downwards from all the meat stuffed into his pecs. He looked at me with trepidation, a sudden remorse filled his eyes. His hair, both on his scalp and face had grown in, salt and pepper and dense. His face had intensified, his features more angular. His ears brushed against his traps, the swells of his back muscles almost entombing his head. “Corey?” Dad blubbered. He took a step away from me. This god of muscle, of strength, of pure masculine power incarnate, was afraid of me? It was in this moment I realized my fears had been for naught, despite becoming a giant musclefreak, my father was still the soft, ‘cuddly’ man I’d always known him to be. “Wha- how, where’d you come from? How long w-were you here?” he stammered. “What did you see?” he said under his breath. “Everything,” I replied after a slight pause. “Jesus,” he exclaimed. “Corey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. I’d never…” “Dad, it’s…” I was cut off by my father letting loose a terrifying cry of pain. My eyes widened as the veins all across his body began to grow once more. A pained expression crossed his handsome visage as his head shot up once again. Bones and tendons snapped as they reconfigured my father into something greater. He grunted as his head brushed up against the ceiling, popcorn stucco dotting his hair. His traps flared out even further, rising even higher, giving him the appearance of a monstrous tank in human form. His pecs rounded out even further, becoming twin globes that would put the front of a truck to shame. His shoulders spread out even further, the seven bands on the lateral head were clearly visible. His arms bloated with even more muscle, the veins widening as his triceps flare and force his arms out wider as they competed for space with his lats and pecs. His abs tightened, from a chiselled six-pack to an eight-pack, the tight abdominals framed by shredded obliques and serrati. His balls filled, semen roiling inside, jostling the scrotum as they grew with abandon. His penis, so obscenely long, had thickened even more as the giant cockhead drooled pre-seed all over his clavicle. “Son, you have to… look away,” he moaned, barely able to get the words out as his mental faculties shut down from the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through his system. “I’ll tell you everything, just please–” “Dad,” I cooed, resting my hand against his gigantic glute. “I know about everything. The cam sessions, the home gym you built, the cum socks. And I know you’re into guys. I… I am too.” What a way to come out. I smiled coyly at him and he retreated from me. I shot a hand out and touched his shaft, the flesh warm underneath my touch. The beast of a man moaned lowly, a shudder rumbling through his whole body. “You’re so big.” He smiled and leaned over, flexing his arm for me to feel. Its size was incredible, and I found myself creaming my pants as I felt the boulder of muscle. We stood there in silence save for his heavy breathing, staring into each other’s eyes. I pulled away from him and began to peel my clothes off. I knew what he wanted. My gargantuan father whimpered lewdly as he shot a massive wad of pre-seed as I took off my shirt, exposing my gym-earned midsection, a solid six-pack for his viewing pleasure. I bounced my pecs, their mass casting a small shadow onto my abs. It was nothing compared to my father’s assets, but from his reaction he enjoyed it immensely. I smirked as I took off my pants, revealing nicely muscled thighs and calves. My dad was busy double fisting his monolith of a penis, groaning and bellowing like a bull. I fished out my 7” prick and stroked it, the cum from my recent ejaculation slicking up my fingers. My father’s eyes grew half-lidded as he bit his lower lip. “See something you like?” I asked coyly. My father nodded sheepishly, a red blush crossing his strong, proud cheeks. Heh, he was a monster of muscle and yet he was just like all the other curious guys I’d deflowered in freshman year. “I do too,” I growled. I approached him, once again taking his shaft in my hands. I knew what I wanted. I pulled as his penis, trying to angle it down so that I’d have access to the cockhead. But try as I might, his cock was stronger than my entire body. My father, bless his soul, helped, using a massive paw to push his own shaft down, the skin pulling taut around his pelvis. Drool pooled at the corners of my mouth. After all this time, I finally had access to what I wanted. I looked up at my dad, a warm smile on his face, an expression as if to say, ‘go on.’ I walked around, feet from my father’s body, and grasped at the knob of his shaft. Dad momentarily slipped his grip on his shaft, losing control for a brief moment as my hand came in contact with the most sensitive part of his engorged organ. Pre-cum splattered in arcane patterns onto the ground as the shaft bobbed wildly like an uncaged animal. “Sorry, Cor,” he whimpered, looking at me with the expectant look of an injured animal. He pushed his shaft back down, grunting, braying like a beast of burden. I stared at the cum-slit, my mouth watering. Its lips were as big as mine. But then I looked up at my dad’s face, marred with a nervous expression. I knew what I wanted. I drew closer to him and place both of my hands on his shaft, hoisting myself up onto his length and straddling it like a pack-beast. My dad gave me a goofy grin and with a wink, flexed his arms down and chest out. My entire field of vision was swallowed by this man. He flexed his pelvic floor and sent me jostling into the air, only to be caught in his paws as he brought me over his pectoral shelf. I wrapped my hands around his traps, pulling myself closer to his handsome face. As my cheek brushed against his, his breath went ragged. The curls of his beard tickled me as our lips met and parted. Pure waves of ecstasy washed over me, and from the increased splash of pre-seed gushing out of my father’s prick against my backside, it washed over him as well. As he pulled away, his eyes fluttered, much like the butterflies in my stomach. He looked at me and then at the side. I turned to look at what he was staring at. There were still 11 red glowing vials sticking out of his night-table. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- <<PART 3: ...And Sometimes, I Watch My Dad Go to Work... The end.
  2. …And Sometimes, I Watch My Dad Go to Work… by vertical Well, he had to make money somehow... <<PART 2: ...And Sometimes, I Find Out My Dad's a Growing Freak... PART4: ...And Sometimes, I Get What I Want>> --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I stood up groggily, bracing myself against the hallway’s wall opposite to the powder room. Flicking on the light to the washroom, I stared in horror at my reflection. My image was distorted by the smattering of freshly sprayed dad-cream from my father’s earlier explosion of size, muscle and semen. My hands roamed down to lift my shirt up and tug at the modest bump in my stomach, my abs still visible, but lightly rounded out. After greedily guzzling down my father’s tasty, thick, creamy load from the first sock, I admired the sheer destruction my dad’s latest orgasm had wrought on the distended, frayed and destroyed sock. Though, I didn’t mull on that thought long, I wrung the sock, extracting what I could while imagining what it’d be like to have my dad’s huge, arm-thick cock in my mouth, what it’d feel like to feel the power in his body with each strong heartbeat echoing in the pencil-thick veins running down his glorious length. But that didn’t stop me from wanting more. He had turned into such a beast, the hamper was a testament for that. And the way I picked up sock after sock was a testament of my hunger, my clandestine thirst to submit to the most powerful man on the planet. The older socks didn’t have the same hit as the fresh loads I had scarfed down just before. It almost felt… empty to eat them up. They just didn’t have that same punch of meaty flavour nor that unctuous texture. But without an alternative… Or… or did I? I looked at myself in the mirror. I scratched at my chin, trying to pinch myself out of my thoughts. I found myself tapping my foot impatiently, my yearning for my next hit of my dad’s cum almost too much to bear. I was going to do it… I dropped my shirt back down and turned the light off, intent on making my way up to my father, pull down his overburdened underwear, stroke that perfect piece of meat and suck him off, watch the satisfied look on his face, pleasing my daddy… I didn’t make it all the way to the stairs when I saw the door to the basement ajar. My father had said he had set up an office down there. An office for what? What could a 400 pound, no, he was likely pushing the mid 500 to 600 pounds now, musclebeast do with an office? He’d installed refrigerators for his whole working career, he didn’t have a pencil-pushing hair on his body. Though, these days, he sure did seem to have a excess of hair in general. And those pencil-thick veins on his cock… Shit, Corey, stop thinking that way. Curiosity won out. Who knew when I’d get another opportunity? I slowly crept my way down the stairs to the basement, flicking on the lights. Sodium yellow pours out from below and my heart skips a beat, the sense of foreboding almost overwhelming me. But I pressed on. I descended down the stairs as my mind descended into madness, my sanity leaving me as I delved into what felt like secrets better left unseen. I was prepared for the worst, but as my feet hit the landing, I was underwhelmed by the mundanity of what I saw. Unlike the rest of the house, the basement was kept orderly, almost too spick and span. My dad was never a stickler for order, but everything down here almost seemed manicured. Sitting in the middle of the room was a workout bench. It was practically new, the black leather seemingly in good condition. I turned to wall closest the stairs and just like Dad had said, there was a home office complete with a webcam, mic, a nice speaker system. Whatever Dad was doing down here, it was clearly working if he could afford all those supplements on top of this nice rig. If only he kept up the rest of the house, I quipped to myself. However, the longer I looked, the more things just seemed off. At first, the only thing out of placed seemed to be what looked like a hard water stain near a drain in the floor. However, as I made my way to middle of the room, my hand rested on the bench, the Olympic bar sitting on its rest. It seemed larger than what I had seen in the campus gym, but I supposed that was to be expected for a huge beast. I noticed a contraption of sorts nearby. It looked almost like a horse used in gymnastics. I couldn’t imagine my dad vaulting over this thing, there simply wasn’t enough room. Though, that didn’t stop me from imagining his muscles writhing underneath his skin, his strong 4-pack twisting as he stabilized his landing. He’d lift his ham-like arms, his shoulders mashing their way into his traps as his biceps brushed against his ears. He’d roar in approval as he stuck his gargantuan landing, the concrete cracking underneath his weight as he slams into the ground with all the force of a Howitzer shell. And speaking of Howitzers, his would be chubbing up... There it is again, Corey, you’re fantasizing about him again, I reprimanded myself. But how could I not? I sat myself down on the bench, feeling completely insignificant on it. The damn thing practically swallowed me. But I knew... I knew my dad’s humongously wide back would swallow this thing up, his expansive lats would hang at least a foot on either end when he lies down. I noticed that at the far end of the bench, the leather looked a little worn out. I brought my hand down to feel over the area. “What the,” I whispered. There was some sort of indentation. I lifted the leather up and looked at the metal support. It was crushed in. I checked the other side and the same thing. It dawned on me that this is where my dad’s huge, elephant limb-like thighs would rest. The hulking beast was so thickly packed with muscle his thighs crushed the bench, they took up so much space. I sported wood just thinking about it. I looked at the computer, watching the lights on the desktop tower flicker. It was on. Curious, I make my way to the oversized desk, my cock tenting my pants, leading the way. I sat down at the chair, the armrests spread so far apart, they were over twice my body width from each other. I shook the mouse, the hard disk humming as the rig was shaken to life. The screen awakens, flashing black before the pixels pour light into the room. My dad was looking at a blog. Not just any. His own. He was looking at the beginning. Perhaps he did it often? Perhaps he looked at what he was and compared it to what he had become. We were related after all, and if I was him, I’d flex my huge bicep and look at how much bigger it’d gotten. I find myself reaching down to my own burdened package and stroking myself through my jeans. I’d blast load after load, feeling my huge muscles as I looked over my own growing body. I lifted my head up and came, blobs of cum running down my inner thigh and I shudder as it cools down. I came just thinking about the contents of the blog, I hadn’t even taken a look at the first post. I settled down, my breath stabilizing as I calmed down. I wiped the sweat from my brow and adjusted my crotch, tucking my slowly softening cock into the pouch of my underwear. I looked up at the screen and centre it on the first video. It was of my father. Or at least, what used to be my father. He was short and pudgy, just like I remembered. His face was illuminated by what looked like a computer’s light, the shot was grainy and the sound was poor. From the looks of it, he was shooting in the basement with the lights off. He let out a pathetic moan, his fat, obese body jiggling with each stroke. He only needed to use two fingers for the tiny prick, the small rod practically swallowed by his fupa and gut. As he brought up an arm to flex, I almost laughed out loud. The thought of someone so out of shape trying to tease his audience with a flex was almost preposterous. That is, if it not for what he said. “Doc gave me this weird shot. Oh... dang, it’s making me horny. Making me sweat all the time. Huff huff... Nnnghuh!” He began to nut all over his fat belly, watery globules of semen coating the wispy hairs of his gut. “Unngh, I’m making more than normal.” It was slightly arousing, but the caption below got me rock hard. I want MORE, was all it said. You and me both, Dad. The next video was dated a month later, and the transformation already apparent. Thick layers of fat still obscured his muscles, but his arms were definitely fuller, his thighs almost looked obscene, filled to the brim with muscle and fat. His moobs were flatter, and his gut while still prominent, looked like it had shape, rather than being a spilled-over mess. His shoulders looked broader, like his body was built to carry around the excess weight he had. But the greatest difference was with his cock. My dad still looked like a doughy 50-something, his chubby cheeks rosy as he pleasured himself. But his hands, not just one, both, were wrapped around his length. “What was it you said, sizequeen168? ‘Nice baby dick?’ Well...” He moved both his hands away from his bobbing length. The huge piece of meat bowed slightly in the middle from the sheer weight. From the look of it, it had to be about 8 or 9 inches, easily double to triple the length it had been just the month before. “You boys have no idea what it’s like,” my father cooed, bringing up a hand to cup his moob. “I’m growing all over, my muscles are getting so strong.” He raised his arms and flexed, this time he was anything but pathetic. The biceps and triceps were obscured by is adipose, but there was an obvious crease between the two muscle groups, his definition had improved drastically. “Unf, my wife can barely take it any more,” he grunted, thrusting his hips forward. His hands encircled around his now massive prick, the fingers and thumb no longer able to touch each other due to the new girth. “Ohh, I’m gonna... here it goes boys!” he roared. He pointed his manhood up, mashing his sensitive tip into his warm belly-flesh. He moaned lewdly as his lime-sized balls pulled up. Instead of thin, watery jets of seed spewing out, enormous, whitish gushers of cum blasted out over his belly and and the bottom of his flabby chest. Ribbons of thick seed just kept spilling out, cobwebs of it oozing all over his upper body as he continued to shoot load after load for a good 15 seconds. He squeezed his cock harder around the base, a warbling moan escaping his mouth as he blasted through a second wind, lazy streams of cum oozing out of his tortured shaft. “Can you boys... huff... imagine all that going into my wife?” he chuckled. He gave the camera a sly look, a look that he knew he held power over his viewer. A look that he knew he was just beginning. Yet again, the next video was dated a month after the last, this time as a Christmas special post. My eyes bugged out at the man that was on camera. He looked like a powerlifter, big, broad shoulder framing his thickening body. Rolls of fat still nestled on his back, but the skin was stretched taut along his abdomen, glimmers of abdominal muscles reveal themselves whenever he twisted his torso. A singular vein ran down each of his biceps, each muscle already larger than the football players I slept with. He smirked at the camera, smirked at me. His face was more carved, a faint hint of a double chin the only remnant of the portly butterball that was my father. His facial hair was coming in, the emerging beast already visible. He was definitely enjoying himself this time. His hand moved up to touch the underside of his fatty pectoral shelf, the big beast shuddering as his hand brushed against the hairs around his nipple, his fingers tracing along the periphery of the sensitive knob. He takes it in between his thumb and his index finger. I never heard a man wail in pleasure like that. And I never saw a cock spring to life like his did. It was obscene, 14” no, 15” maybe 16” of cock shot up and slapped into his midsection, pre oozing out of the fat, apple-sized tip and splashing down his length and pomegranate sized balls. Jesus, he was a monster. “You boys never thought I’d get this big, did you?” He pushed his arms down, his pectorals flaring out and brushing up against the bottom of his chin. “My wife’s scared of me, says I’m getting too big. What do you boys think? Is Daddy too big?” he growled. He raised his arms up, letting his cock bob up and down in time with his heartbeat. He flexed his guns, squeezing them and filling them with blood his skin began to redden. They had to be over 21” in diameter. They had to be some the biggest arms filled with beef in existence. He grunted as he dropped his hands down to wrap around his cock, his massive mitts spread apart by the tumescent flesh. His voice was so deep now, so powerful. His pecs jiggle with each stroke his heavy brow scrunched down as he strokes harder and harder. When he sprays, its like watching a geyser go off. His cum blasts out of the tip of his cock, so much volume, it hits the top of the low ceiling of the basement. “Oh shit... ungh, noooo,” he moaned. “What’s happening...” His voice cracked, getting deeper. “...to me?” he whimpered. I already knew. He was hitting a growth spurt. Daddy’s first growth spurt, the caption read just below the video. It started in his face. His jaw grew more masculine, his facial features sharpening. His neck begins to bloat as he grows, veins criss-crossing against the cords of muscle. The air around him practically steams, his nostrils flaring as he snorts like a bull. His shoulder and traps billow out, growing wider, filling the frame of the cam show he was giving. His pecs fill the space between his arms, and then they fill it more, arms and pecmeat contesting each other as he blew up, his build growing beyond what any human could possibly achieve. How much did he weigh now? 300 pounds? At least. His cock, still blasting cum, inches up his belly as he grows. It goes on for a minute at least, my father blowing and growing in tandem. I was already edging myself. My cock almost in pain from the amount of rubbing and attention I’ve been giving it today. I scroll down, some still picture of my dad flexing his hot, horny body. Some of them were of him nursing his enormous musclegut. AMA questions with equally hot answers. ‘How many calories do you eat a day?’ As much as I can get. ‘How big is that thing getting?’ This week? 20” Dated in mid-February. After that, the final post. “Heya folks,” my colossal dad grunted into the mic. He was clothed, but barely. His man-tiddies poked out from each end of his a-shirt, his bulge pushed out of his workout shorts obscenely. His arms were dusted with a heavy coating of hair as was his jawline. “Sorry for being so quiet on here lately. Lemme tell you, it’s been such a trip for this big daddy,” he chuckled, bringing a 24” arm up for a huge flex. He licked at the peak, pleased with how much meat he had packed on. “I just wanna say, I’m so grateful for all you little boys watching this big daddy explode with mass.” He brings both arms down and squeezes them against his pecs. His whole body seemed to explode with size as he pumped blood into his muscles. The shirt groaned in protest as he stretched the fabric to its limit and then some, it frayed along the edges, unable to contain my dad’s most muscular most-muscular. He relaxed his pose and continued, “I just wanted to tell you guys that I’ll be taking this whole muscle show thing a little more seriously. 3000 followers are a lot and I’ve been thinking of doing some live shows to make some cash.” He looks into the camera with earnest eyes, honest to a fault the man was, they were almost puppy-like. Hell, if he was making me melt, then his followers were probably puddles by now. “I haven’t told anyone, but I lost my job. I was getting too big. And you know me guys, can’t keep my hands off myself. Hehe. My boss somehow found out I was getting blowjobs from some the clients and he fired me on the spot. My wife left me the day after that,” he said solemnly. “But, there’s a silver lining in everything right, boys?” he chuckled nervously. “So, if you want to support this big guy and help him grow even more massive, the links are below. I’ll be doing daily cam shows from now on.” And sure enough, I clicked the link to his streaming website. It was all paid content, but luckily he was logged in. He really did do daily streams. If I thought he was getting big before, now he was exploding in size. With all his energy now put into growing massive, his arms went from 24” to 30” within a month, more than an inch a week. I just kept scrolling through the saved streams. I was practically giddy just looking through all the preview shots and the title captions for each stream. Daddy flexes his 30” guns. The 10 second preview while hovering over the image shows off my dad’s ultra-thick powerlifter’s physique by late February, the hairy freak going beast-mode as he blasts through reps so fast the image is blurry in the preview. Daddy crushes a watermelon between his thighs. I hovered the cursor over the preview picture and find myself leaking pre as I watch two colossal thighs wrap around a large melon. It was rather low-res, but my dad’s hefty bulge was leaking pre all over the top of the watermelon, giving it an unnatural shine. And to my surprise, there were even lewder ones. Daddy crushes a dildo in his ass. Heh, I knew it. Daddy cums as he curls 350 pounds. Nailed it again, I knew that weight was for his bicep curls. I felt like an ace detective, an incredibly horny ace detective. Daddy bends his son’s car over his daddy dick. Excuse me? I clicked on that stream. Mid-March. Dad was already humongous, easily over 360 pounds of freaked out beef. The streamed started out with Dad rubbing up his sweaty musculature. He’d been lifting and judging from the way his veins angrily tore a path through his skin, he’d been working hard. “’Lo, boys,” he grunted, his voice as deep and booming as it was this afternoon. He raised an arm, a slick stream of sweat pouring out the deep crevasses in his arm, his biceps and triceps providing ample crags to pool his liquid determination into. “Bigger than ever,” he snarled, his lips curled into an arrogant smile. He swayed his hips back and forth, his epic cock gently thwacking against his inner thighs as his grapefruit-sized balls rolled about, roiling with his potent seed. “Oh yeah, way bigger,” he cooed. “You boys wanna see how big and strong Daddy’s become?” he grunted, his bravado oozing out of every pore, just as much as the testosterone. He grabbed at a hunk of metal. But from the colour, I knew it was a door to my car with the windows taken out. My father’s hand prints were clearly visible along the edges where he had torn the thing from the body. “You guys know I can bend rebar pretty easily these days,” he cooed. “But trust me, I’ve gotten so much stronger.” The big beast began to stroke himself, his epic length filling with blood. His belly jiggles as he whacks off, his groans low and powerful. He began to rub the top of his length against the scrap metal, the smooth metal touching his slick flesh. “Holy shit,” I barked, standing up from my seat as my pride stood at attention in my crotch. I bet my dad’s audience at the time had the same reaction. My dad was smirking at the camera. The fabric and plastic began to crack along the middle. My dad’s hands were shaking as he pushed down, his hulking chest heaving with pure mass and power. And yet, my dad’s cock didn’t budge, it pushed up with as much, if not more force than his arms did down. He wasn’t even finished before I was blowing a load into my jeans once again, my body taken over by my lust for my own father. “I’m... ungh... INVINCIBLE!” he roared as he bent the whole door almost in half over his cock. The plastic splintered and crumbled off the scraps, leaving just the metal shell, warped beyond recognition. My father threw the metal to the side and threw his arms down. With a primal scream, he flexed his whole body, the shot going dark as he filled the field of view to the brim. Squeezing harder, the veins danced underneath his paper-thin skin as he gorged his muscles with blood. And then he came. Huge torrents of semen splatter out of his megalith of a cock, 24” of bullcock going wild. He moved between poses, his cock’s deluge unending. He seemed to get off on his body, every flex renewing his self-desire, reinvigorating his orgasm, his desires near endless. A minute, a whole minute later and he was still going, his giant shaft was still oozing semen all over the place. Finally, after a good 3 or so minutes, he was reduced to little more than dribble, the beast giving a few cursory flexes before he ended the video. I didn’t think it could get much hotter than that, but then I scrolled down to today’s video, or perhaps, yesterday’s – I’d been here, beating off to my dad’s amateur porno vids that it was almost 1 in the morning. It was titled Daddy milks his bullcock. There he stood in all his magnificence. Easily 6’6” and 400 pounds of brawn, his gut now more muscle than fat, the bloated abdominals barely concealed by the thinning layer of fat. Six months since he started, and he was almost ripped enough to have abs. He didn’t have to say a word. I was boning up again, and I knew he knew he was a god. Everyone who saw him would be having my reaction. His massive half-erection, a monumental phallic paragon, stretched further than it was hard in the last video. He just stared silently at the camera, a permanent, arrogant scowl in his face. He raised an arm, his favourite motion, consistently bigger, consistently stronger. He felt it up with his fingers from both sets of hands, the bicep so pumped with blood he could touch the enormous peak situated on his arm. That was enough for Daddy to go raging hard, his 28” monstrosity curved slightly upwards in the middle. The veins throbbed with the ichor flowing through them. He grunted lowly, the only other sound on the audio was the stream of pre-seed dribbling onto the concrete floor, almost sounding like someone was taking a leak. He then turned to the Olympic horse. Only now I realized that’s not what it was. I turned my head, away from the screen, leaving my digital fantasy of my father long enough to recognize the analog horror. The bar had a hole in it at one end. That wasn’t a horse, it was an oversized artificial vagina meant for collecting bull semen – a fucking fleshlight for monstrously sized animals. I suppose it was fitting, my father had definitely become one. He shuddered, bellowing as he entered the device, standing on his thickly muscled haunches, the quads and hamstrings separated, the sheen of his ass-sweat matting down the furry hair on his muscle-engorged glutes and thighs. Inch after agonizing inch, he forced his way into his ‘sow,’ his face screwed in fits of pleasure. His calves erupted with diamond-like patterns with each upward thrust, the pattern mirrored in abdominals hidden just out of view as my dad rested his giant musclegut on top of the contraption. His giant arms, each larger than my waist, shot down to brace himself as he leaned over his ‘toy.’ Like a bull, he puffed out his epic chest, sweat beading in the valleys of his pecs and coalescing onto his nipples, soft droplets of sweat dripping down on the leather. And like a bull, he moaned lewdly, his voice inhuman, it was desperate and savage. He began to piston into the thing with abandon. Plink plink plink. There it was, the rhythmic metallic sound I heard when I had come home. The bolt holding the device to the ground had become loose from my dad’s ministrations, his hips generating more force than a jet engine. In his desperation, he changed angles, lowering himself down, his massive bowling ball sized nuts dangling between his thighs. He let loose a low bellow, almost sounding like a bull, a long, low, sonorous crone. With one final thrust, he mounted the device to his hilt. He gritted his teeth as his thrusting became erratic, his mind losing control as the beast took over. After half a minute of thrusting, the end he was fucking began to ooze his cum out in torrents, the contraption filled to capacity. And yet, still he went on, fucking with wanton abandon. His eyes rolled back, his tongue lolled out, his muscles spasmed as his higher functions shut down, lost to the mind-addling effect of the most powerful post-orgasmic afterglow setting in. He slowly began to thrust again, slow and steady. Plink... plink... plink... he was enjoying himself, riding the orgasmic high for as long as he could. “Hello? Mom? Dad?” a muffled voice called from upstairs. Oh shit, that was me. My dad snapped out of his stupor and a look of panic set in. He pulled out of the machine, revealing his engorged 28” godhood, slimy cum coating its surface. He wiped himself off and kicked cum into the drain on the floor. My eyes wandered there, realizing that wasn’t hard water, but encrusted cum. “Shit,” the beast hissed to himself. A low thud rings out through the basement as the semen repository to the device gave out, falling to the ground and splashing more cum everywhere. He grumbled lowly as he fits it back on and pushed as much of the cum as he could into the grating on the floor. He wiped down his equipment and sighed looking one last time at the camera before shutting off the stream. I was rock hard as I stepped away from the computer console. I held myself against the wall as I made my way up the stairs to the ground floor. Without thinking, I made my way up the second flight. What was I doing? I felt like I was on auto-pilot. I should turn to the washroom, get freshened up before bed. No. I should just get some shut eye, go to my room and take my mind off everything. No. I had a craving... an urge... and I needed to satisfy it. I grabbed onto the knob leading into the master bedroom. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- <<PART 2: ...And Sometimes, I Find Out My Dad's a Growing Freak... PART4: ...And Sometimes, I Get What I Want>> Oh no, what ever could he want to do...
  3. ...And Sometimes, I Find Out My Dad’s a Growing Freak... by vertical -Well, I didn't manage to get him into the basement just yet... there were too many hot things to do with his dad... <<PART 1: Sometimes, I Drink My Dad's Cum... PART 3: ...And Sometimes, I Watch My Dad Go to Work...>> --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don’t know what was in my dad’s semen that made it so addictive, all I knew was that the more I had the more I craved. That night, Dad had come back with tray after tray after tray of barely passable ‘food.’ If I thought my father would be concerned that his son wasn’t chowing down on chow mien, I’d have been wrong. The great beast ate, practically hoovered, the food in with abandon. Me, I barely ate a plateful, I was too busy silently stroking at myself underneath the table, watching those mountainous arms work, his pecs heave… I had a sneaking suspicion that he was all too happy to be eating the lion’s share. A suspicion I confirmed as I pretended to drop my chopsticks on the ground. “Hehe, leave it, Corey. Just go get a fork,” my dad had said with a gulp. As I bent over I pretended to be just interested in the wooden stick lying on the ground, but I tilted my head just enough to see that my father’s dark slab of meat was out of his shorts, a slow dribble of pre-seed leaking onto the floor. He’d shown it to me, a little too nonchalantly, before he went out, but gods, when it was starting to get hard, it was massive. I had to estimate it to be at least 18”, more than double my erect length, and it wasn’t even fully hard! I quickly shot up with my chopsticks in hand, and sat up straight as an arrow, my eyes staring intently on a piece of beef in front of me. I stole a glance at my dad and his cheeks were rosy, the hulk of a man staring off to the side. I think we both knew what I saw. I suppose I got my politeness from his side of the family – neither of us brought up the incident the rest of the night. I excused myself and decided to take a shower. As I climbed the stairs, I let out a sigh of relief, my hands obscured from my father’s vision. Without prying eyes, I was free to grope at myself, and I could see Dad reaching underneath the table when he thought I couldn’t see him any more. Like father, like son, I suppose. By the time I got to the washroom, my shorts were already down to my ankles, my feel dragging along the ground. As I stepped into the shower, I notice the thick layer of congealed semen right on the shower tile. I knew my father had become so self-absorbed with his new, giant body, but I didn’t think he’d be this negligent. The sheer volume that was still in the shower, it was like he forgot that he had a closeted son. Well, it’s not like he knew what I was about to do next. Without turning the water on, I reach down and scoop up maybe half a handful of the stuff. I couldn’t believe it’s texture, slimy and wet, yet still held itself together. It’d been hours since he was in here and the cum hadn’t dissolved or become watery. I bring my hand to my shaft, my skin reeling with goosepimples as the cold gel slides along my erect 7” length. I slowly whack off, occasionally bending down to scoop up more of my dad’s spunk. I rub it into my chest, feeling up my strong toned pectorals, imagining I had a shelf just like my dad, or maybe even bigger. I rubbed it into my arms, wondering what it’d feel like to have cannons like he did. Despite having came already, I blasted huge gooey loads all over the tile wall of the shower, cum streaking down the wall. Fuck, even his hours-old cum was more substantial than mine. That fact made me bone up painfully, my sensitive cockhead begging me for reprieve. I tried my best to avoid rubbing at it as I cleaned up, kicking the blobs of cum into the drain and hoping it didn’t clog. I dried off and wrapped a towel around my waist. Steam rolled out of the washroom as I opened the door and pause. My dad was walking right past the door, his hulking frame taking up so much space that I couldn’t fully open. He looked at me and I could see him admiring my form, specifically, he looked at the corrugated washboard abs I had forged for myself to attract all the boys; I wouldn’t say I was all that muscular, but they were there. He lingered there, the seams in his shorts audibly straining as he stared. If he thought he could just ogle me without the sentiment being returned, he was wrong. His hands clenched, his knuckles almost white as he tried to control his libido. I tried not to make it too obvious I was admiring the sheer size of his forearms, the sinewy muscle laden with veins that danced as he strained to restrain himself. His pulse quickened, the veins in his biceps throbbing with each heartbeat. His triceps swell with the slightest twitch of his forearms. His broad shoulders filled my field of view. Pectorals that brushed against the bottom of his stubbly chin. “Uh, sorry,” my enormous father grunted, shaking his head, a huge blush on his cheeks. He shuffled past, slowly adjusting his crotch as he ducked into the master bedroom. His massive, bubble-butt bounces with each step, the ground rumbling underneath his bulk. His enormous thighs rub against one another, the thick slabs of muscle touching all the way down to the knees. It’s not long after he disappears inside until I hear grunts coming from inside. Damn horny bastard. I’m fully chubbed at that point, but instead of succumbing to my lust again, I fight the urge to walk in on my father masturbating and make my way back into my own room. I got dressed, a simple t-shirt and a ratty, old pair of boxer-briefs were good enough to lounge and sleep in. However, if I thought I could even think about sleeping with the amount of noise coming from across the hall… I just needed to get away, else I’d be rubbing my cock all night long, thinking about my massive dad. I slipped on a pair of old jeans. I crept my way down the stairs, trying to busy my mind, think of anything else, trying to erase the picture of my dad’s huge junk from my head. I busy myself with cleaning the mess and neglect of our downstairs living space. As I try to ignore the deep, bassy grunts coming from upstairs, I grabbed a garbage bag and tossed canister after empty canister of protein, and empty wrappers of protein bars. As disgusting as it was, I couldn’t help but feel myself tenting my shorts, imagining my father gorging himself, feeding and growing into the beast he had become today. The ceiling above me groaned and protested as my father picked up his pace, small tidbits of popcorn stucco falling to the floor. Jeez, the old man really did forget he wasn’t all alone in the house anymore. I shook my head and continued to collect discarded things. Without Mom around, my dad had let the house fall into neglect; or, a deeper part of me wondered perhaps he was just too into his own body to recognize just how messy he had let the house become. I couldn’t believe the amount of stuff he’d just tossed to the side, perhaps in his haste to stuff even more calorific shakes and protein bars into his face. Ugh, what a pig... A massive, muscular, handsome pig at that. I was pulling things from underneath the couch when... “What the fuck?” I blurted as I felt something... different from the empty packages and containers. It took me a couple tries, slowly rolling it out from underneath the furniture. When the pink tip emerged, I couldn’t help but gasp. I took the tip of it into my hand and pulled it the rest of the way out. A dildo, bright pink and easily in the foot-plus category rested in the palm of my hand. “Jesus fuck, what a pervert,” I exhaled under my breath. I had half a mind to think it may have been my mother’s, but there was no way this thing could ever fit into a woman. The plastic cockhead was larger than my fist. I traced my finger down the ridge of the head, just as I heard my massive father shudder and groan with delight. I felt the ridges of the simulated, pink foreskin pulled back, agonizingly taut. The cacophony upstairs grew to a fevered pitch. My finger glided down the length, thicker than a beer bottle, veins thicker than pencils. My gaze finally rested on the base of the pink behemoth and I shuddered. It was a model where the end flared to simulate ‘balls.’ But that end... was crushed in. I gulped and brought it closer to my face. Just by what, I didn’t know. Was that the impression of my dad’s steely, strong hand? I whimpered, thinking that maybe, just maybe, it was his enormous glutes that had rendered the dildo destroyed. I quickly drop the thing, letting my better senses take hold of me, desperately trying to get my ever-present erection to go away. I kicked the dildo back underneath the sofa, out of sight, still in mind. With the living room mostly cleaned out, I take the full trash bag out towards the garage. Unfortunately, the entrance was through the laundry and I once again found myself face to face with the hamper. Piles of socks unperturbed still laid inside, just ripe and waiting for the plucking. I had to pinch myself to walk past it. I flicked on the lights in the garage and my jaw dropped once again. Surprise after surprise, and yet my reaction didn’t change, though the rest of the house did. I dropped the bag and stumbled my way to the far end of the concrete room. My dad had set up a makeshift gym. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a bench, a barbell and dumbells – the bare minimum. The one thing he did seem to spring for was a full-length mirror running along the edge of the wall. Whether he used that to check his form or to bask in his own hugeness, I didn’t know. I didn’t understand, it was bare bones, and judging from the size of the plates, what my dad was lifting wasn't all that impressive. I took to the set of dumbbells left discarded in the middle of the room. It looked like a pair of 150 pounders that I’ve seen at the campus gym, something the most impressive beasts could lift. But those guys, they still looked human, how could my dad get so huge with just these? Sure, I wouldn’t be able to do anything with those myself, but I could at least lift it up with both hands. I grasp the grip with both my hands and pull up. I knew I could easily deadlift 150 pounds. However, the weight didn’t budge a bit. “What the fuck?” I squealed as I strained, the weight leaving the ground on one end, but I couldn’t manage to get it off the ground completely. The weight crashed to the ground, almost softly, speaking to how pathetic my attempt was. I peered down and tried to read off the weight. “370 pounds, how?” I gulped. I chubbed up at the thought of my dad doing curls with that weight. I read off the smaller print beside it, “Wolfram.” Jesus, it wasn’t iron, but tungsten. I looked at the bench incredulously. If all the weights were made of the stuff, then my dad wasn’t just at the upper echelon of strength, but in a completely different category all his own. I stared into the mirror, looking at my own distorted image. A long dried, yellowing gusher marred half the length of the room. I was a little taken aback, but if I was able to curl 370 pounds, maybe I’d get off on that too. I adjusted myself, pushing the thoughts of my father working out and getting off on himself out of my head. Or at least, I tried to. At first, he was naked in my head, his luscious body hair matted to his bulging muscles and gut. Forcing myself to imagine him with clothes on fared no better. The way the sweat soaked into his tanktop, his broad pecs pushing out so far, the nipples peeked through the sleeves, his hairy gut rippling with muscle underneath the fat pushing through the bottom. The way his giant balls filled the basket of his shorts, the seams straining to contain them all on their own. The beast massaging his... Another wet spot forms in my pants, and once again I came to the thought of my own beast of a dad. I barely had a chance to bask in the afterglow, catching a glimpse of something truly horrific in the mirror; the rack of dumbbells and the bench had obscured it. My car. Or what was left of it. I let out a curse and whine as I rushed over to see the chassis gutted. No doors were left in place, where had they gone? I looked at the ground, feeling an anger bubble in the pit of my stomach. How could he do this? He had ripped the wheels off, leaving them on the axle. Did he work out with these? Did that get him off? This was my car! I vowed. I promised to let this anger fester. I wouldn’t think of my father in dirty terms anymore, not after he did this to my car. I snorted angrily, kicking the ‘tire-barbell’ and making my way back into the house. Little did I know, my resolve would be tested instantly. A rumbling, like thunder comes from upstairs, the floor creaking as my father began to descend down the stairs. I couldn’t let him see me with a rage-boner in my pants. Quickly, before he had a chance to see me, I turned the lights to the laundry off and hid behind the small nook in the room, the musky, cum-rag-sock hamper at the entrance to the room. Enshrouded in darkness, I hoped that my dad wouldn’t see me. The booming footsteps drew near and I held my breath, hoping to go undetected. The looming shadow from the hall darkens the room even more. A large, bowed out sock was tossed into the hamper, an audible squick ringing through the air in the small room, followed by a deep exhalation. “Oh, fuck,” Dad groaned. “Gotta... stop thinking about ‘im like that, Randy,” he coached himself. “But God, those abs... urgh... no he’s... your son...” he growled. An obscured light filtered into the room, my father having flicked the switch in the adjacent powder room on. I could hear an audible groan coming from the hall. It wasn’t like that of the beast my dad had become, but the sound of clothing protesting from being overstretched. A hear a sharp exhale before the stretching sound continued, he was moving between poses. Gathering courage, I inched my way towards the entrance of the room. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw my dad’s hand shoot into view. “Fuck, not again... I’ll... urgh... make this quick,” he grunted lowly, his voice like thunder, yet silky like a fine chocolate. He fished around for a sock in the hamper, lifting one of the ones I had ‘drained,’ the whole thing having crusted over without any liquid in it. I could hear him shake off the cobwebs of dried cum and whimpering as his sensitive flesh brushed against the rough texture of spunk-encrusted cotton. “Mmmmhm,” he hummed darkly, clearly pleased with his self-ministrations. I crept closer, curiosity winning out over fear, my body now half in the light. If he decided to peek his head into the room, he would for sure see me. But, from the lack of attention he’d been taking with the rest of the house, I took my chances. I peeked around the corner, my face barely concealed. My hands instantly shot down to touch myself through the fabric of my pants, my vow of enmity be damned. I massaged the tip of my cock as he massaged his through the sock, gooey bubbles of pre-seed already soaking through the material. His body was massive, thick arms, each larger than my waist and bloated with an intense pump from working himself, piston up and down, the veins running along his bicep coursing with blood. His shoulders and lats rotate and curl, tittering forward and back as he smoothly works at himself, their mass pulling at his tanktop, exposing the bottom of his gut as they tensed. His gargantuan pectorals aid them, the individual fan-like striations writhing underneath his skin. He pushes his arms down, his hands squeezing at the base of his monumental cock, his pecs pushing up, the hairy shelf level with his chin. The muscle-greedy bastard flitted his tongue, getting himself a mouthful of hairy pecs, but he could only moan in approval. It was when my eyes were diverted to his massive ass and thighs when the real show began. I was busy ogling his glutes, hams and quads shifting in tandem as he pistonned his hips forward, thrusting more and more of his epic length into his hands, the basket in his strained briefs bouncing and slapping against his inner thighs and his hands. His unyielding strength seemed to waver, his knees bowing slightly. “Ungh, no!” he hissed. “Not... now... ungh!” His voice grew deeper, bassy like a subwoofer. “Fuuuuuuuck,” he moaned as the veins across his body spasmed in stark relief of his reddening skin. I watched with bated breath as sweat drenched his heavy, masculine brow. He snarled, his canines sharp, almost feral and oozing with primal saliva. A beast in every regard. The freak that was my father exhaled sharply, his body practically steaming as his muscles slowly inched larger. I wouldn’t have believed it if I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes. I didn’t care, I needed to relieve the pressure in my crotch. I undid the fly of my jeans and let my cock slip out of the band of my underwear, uncaring of the cold teeth of the zipper biting into the sides of my 7 inches of pride. He bared his fang-like canines, his neck blowing out with size, restricting the motion of his head. His traps spasm, his arms temporarily pulled back as the fill with muscle, his ears almost coming into contact with the skin of his back. His shoulders writhed, his deltoids pushing further out, how wide he was becoming I couldn’t tell. The growing beast raised his arms, his giant, sleeved cock bobbing precariously as he worshipped the growing peaks of his biceps. He moaned, wanting desperately to lick those peaks, instead getting a mouthful of deltoids. As for me, well, I got a look at his massive, hairy pits, his lats flaring out at the interface between his back and obliques. “Ungh, fuck, I don’t care if Corey finds out,” my dad growled to himself, his eyes alight with pure, unadulterated muscle-lust. “MORE!” he belted as he brought his now gargantuan arms down, sweat dripping off his titanic triceps and forearms. His lats and pecs push out, forcing his arms slightly outwards even as he squeezed them to his side as best he could. His pectoral shelf spasms, the growing pecmeat forcing his chin upwards. “Yeah, this is... the biggest spurt yet!” he snarled, delight in his tone. “Heya, buddy,” he cooed. Oh shit, had he found me out? His hands roamed down to his abs and a huge, devilish smile crossed his lips. Unlike the rest of him, his gut had stayed relatively the same size, the layer of fat thinning as more and more muscle pushed through. Billowly, blocky abs were now clearly visible, a tortoiseshell to end all others and covered in a dense forest of dark hair. It could maybe be described as a 4-pack if I was being generous; the abs were there but there was still lots of fat. “Unf, haven’t seen you in 20 years,” he chuckled, the muscle and fat on his belly jiggling as he rubbed his fatty abs. The beast gave himself a quick flex in the mirror once more before going at his length again. “You grow too, bud,” he cooed, coaxing at his length. He tilted his head back as his massive mitts encircled around his cock. “YES!” he bellowed. His hands moved methodically up and down, his muscle swelling with blood as he held his cock in a deathgrip. But his shaft won out, pushing his fingers further and further apart. The sock rides up his cock, looking more and more pathetic on his length, now covering less than half of its length. His dick was so thick now, I could make out the pomegranate sized head in sharp relief inside the sock. The girth was so extreme, the elastic was fraying at the neck of the sock, the fabric stretched so thin, I could make out the red, angry skin of his shaft between the woven fibres. His balls audibly gurgled, the insane size of them stretching the band of his shorts to the limit, the snapping of the internal elastics pinging in my ears. They pull up and inject his god-spunk into his system and the musclegod roared in desperate pleasure. The sock bows out, semen leaking out of the toe of the garment like a running faucet. My dad pulled at his length with abandon, slamming the tip of his cock in between the bottom shelf of his heavy pecs, cum gushing out all over his pecs in lazy streams, pooling on the underside before dripping onto his blocky abs. As he continued to cum, he threw his arms down, the hair on the back of his triceps thickening, new patches forming on his shoulders and back. His stubble on his chin grew out into a modestly trimmed beard. Hair spread like wildfire in the canyon of his pectorals and abgut, a treasure trail leading right to his most prized possession. I pressed my back against the wall, out of sight of my behemoth of a father, his hairline, slightly growing back in, now level with the top of the door to the powder room. I looked down at myself, having blown twice in the time my dad had jerked off and orgasmed, my own rod sore and raw from all the abuse I was giving it. “Shit,” my father boomed. “Feels... so good to grow...” he moaned. He sighed and tossed the thoroughly ruined sock into the hamper, stretched out of shape beyond hope. “Ungh, gotta stop thinkin’ of Corey like that,” he mumbled. “Gotta get myself a girlfriend or somethin’, yeah,” he huffed. “Ungh, stupid walls. Why they gotta build these halls so tight?” he snorted. The ground shook as he began to leave. I peeked my head out once again to see my father’s triceps touching each end of the hallways walls, his gloriously enormous ass rolling as he waddled out and back up the stairs. In the dim light I could barely make out his junk as he climbed the stairs, the base clearly visible as the rest of his shaft warped his shorts. I couldn’t even tell if my heart was still beating, but when the coast was clear, I stood over the hamper and looked at the two socks my dad had just deposited. One, filled to the brim with his seed, the other hopelessly destroyed by his new size. My stomach rumbled, having skipped most of dinner. But, I had a nutritious meal right in front of me, piping hot too... As I raised the overwhelmingly filled sock to my lips, I knew what I had to do next. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- <<PART 1: Sometimes, I Drink My Dad's Cum... PART 3: ...And Sometimes, I Watch My Dad Go to Work...>> Maybe, I dunno, maybe this time he'll find out what's in the basement.
  4. Ah, didn't think it'd be an important detail! I put a little thing in to clean that up. And to all, yes, there'll be more... eventually!
  5. Sometimes I Drink My Dad’s Cum… by vertical -Just my riff on the perennial favourite of a college guy coming home to his massive father... PART 2: ...And Sometimes, I Find Out My Dad's a Growing Freak... >> --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I hadn’t seen my parents all year. Going to college halfway across the country will do that, I guess. It’s not like I didn’t have an opportunity to, it’s just… eh, I wasn’t too attached to my folks, I suppose? The thought of spending my Thanksgivings and Christmases with them over the ‘self-exploration’ I was doing at the time… And by self-exploration, I do mean throwing myself to the meat-market and getting my hands on any sausage I could get. I considered myself a fairly attractive fellow, jet black hair, sharp facial features and a strong, almost-athletic body from playing varsity in high school. It also didn’t hurt that the guys I’ve bedded couldn’t get enough of the 7” of heat I was packing, whether I was the top or the bottom. Course, I did have a type, I’d shack up with just about any cute dude, whether he be a twink, hunk or a bear. But my ‘type’, well, for me, size was my prize. A guy hairier, taller, more hung and way more massive, that was my kind of man. I’d gotten myself a few, my favourite of course being the football team’s starting middle linebacker; I’d let him rush me down and mow me over any day of the week. I at least had the decency to be embarrassed about it now. I loved my parents, but had yet to come out to them. Dad was your typical 50-something, loved to watch football at one point in his life, probably loved Mom passionately at one point in his life, and subsequently lost all motivation once I was born. I’d never say he was a bad dad, but he was the comes-home-from-his-blue-collar-job-and-drinks-a-beer-while-lazing-on-the-couch kind of guy. And it showed, he’d gotten portly over the years. Mom was more animated, she took care of the house, she took care of me growing up. If I had to say it, I’d say I got most of my good looks from her side of the family. I realize that not coming home for the holidays, or calling my parents or just about any semblance of keeping in contact with my family may have come to bite me in the ass. I spoke with Dad on the phone about picking me up at the airport last week. He said ‘yes,’ his voice unusually gravelly, maybe annoyed. And lo and behold, I’m waiting at the arrivals terminal, my two bags of my belongings in tow. Fifteen minutes late, I was okay, sure they were just running late, gosh the traffic must be horrendous. An hour, okay, hehe, well maybe the traffic was really bad. But three hours late? Well, maybe it was my just desserts. I didn’t have the most money in the world, but maybe I could get the folks to reimburse me for the cab. I stare out the window of the cab as we pull into the driveway of my house. The memories coming back, how Mom and Dad would tend to their garden, they always grew flowers. Looking at the lawn, it was surprisingly bare, by May it was always a spectacle of colour. Maybe they were pinching pennies this year, after all, they chipped in quite a bit to send me off to college. I pay the cabby with credit, sending a silent prayer skywards that Mom or Dad would take the hit for me later. My driver nods to me as he helps me take out my bags from the trunk. As he pulls out of the driveway to the house, I realize that Dad’s car was there, but Mom’s wasn’t. Shit, they must’ve been out to get me. I pick up my phone and call Dad, waiting for the call to go through. Nothing. I call Mom, but the it doesn’t go through. Ugh, I hope they can forgive me. It’s then that I realize that my old car is gone. Well, double shit, they must’ve sold it off. That lessened the guilt. I fumbled through my pocket for my copy of the key to the house, hoping at least that stayed the same. As the mechanism clicks, I sigh a little in relief. However, as I pull my bags into the house, I notice something off. My mother always ran a tight ship, everything always spick and spam, even after she had you, she went right back to work and still did all the chores. But, from the looks of it, the living room was in disrepair, cups and bottles of some sort of drink strewn across the coffee table. Gross. I walked towards the kitchen, disgusted by the similar amounts of discarded bottles. Curious, I pick one up. Gainer shakes? What the heck did my parents need these for, neither was underweight… I look around some more, accidentally stumbling against what looked like an empty tub of what must’ve been whey protein. That’s when I hear something coming from the basement. The door was ajar and as I neared, I could hear the rhythmic noise of metal against metal. We had a weight set down there, was someone using it? I could hear someone, or something snarling. “Hello? Mom? Dad?” I called out. I hear the clanking stop and suddenly a loud thud. I felt the ground shake and I wondered just how much weight was being tossed around down there. But the ground didn’t stop trembling. I felt heavy plods making their way up the stairs. As it grew nearer, the floor began to rumble and I could hear the cups and empty bottles rattling in the living room behind me. I gulp as I could make out heavy breathing, the sound deep and sonorous. I was not prepared for the beast of a man that emerged from the door. I felt myself freeze in place, the only thing my body did was send blood to my lower head as I trained my eyes on the veritable god in front of me. My dad. The last time I saw him, he was around my height. He stood at a respectable 5’8”, just short enough for me to be eye level with his receding hairline. His body would’ve looked frail if not for the generous amount of fat padding his arms and midsection. But the monster of a man before me stood at least a good 7 or so inches taller than me, eyes level with his heavily stubbled, masculine chin. The beast was wearing nothing but a white wifebeater and baby blue workout shorts. Both were painted on and slicked with his sweat, both practically translucent. Those shorts did nothing to hide the prodigious bulge contained within the basket of his shorts, the band slightly distended forward, a dense forest of dark pubes peeking through. And that description was without how amazingly muscular his physique had become. His hands were gnarled with veins that ran up his forearms, slabs of muscle in stark contrast to the network of vessels dancing across their surface in a dizzying display. His upper arms were corded with giant boulders. His biceps swollen with mass, along with his triceps, were so bloated with power they were thicker than my waist. His shoulders, slick with sweat and reddened from all the blood pulsing through them, were so wide that he had to turn to his side as he ducked through the doorway and out into the hall. The air practically steamed off his hairy, immense pectorals, the slabs of meat rising and falling with each breath, the forest of hair swaying with each heavy exhale from his nostrils. Below the enormous canyon between his behemothian pectorals was a thick gut, swollen with muscle and fat, offering his build the look of a seasoned powerlifter. My eyes were immediately drawn to his basket, plastered tight to his package. His balls alone more than filled the crotch. I could easily make out the huge log of meat. He had pushed it to the side, the shaft in stark relief against his leg. His thighs were thick, though less defined than his arms, ample pockets of fat deposited to his inner thigh obscured the striations. Though the heads of the quads were clearly visible. Diamond hard calves stuck out of his legs, his giant feet encased in shoes larger than I had ever seen. I looked up to see his face filled with concern. His eyes dart to the stovetop. “Aw, geez, 4:32,” he whimpered, his voice deep and booming. “What time was I supposed to pick you up, Corey?” He raises a hand up to rub the back of his neck, the motion causing a thick, pert nipple to reveal itself from behind the fabric of his sweat-soaked shirt. The bottom of the shirt lifted up to reveal his hairy gut, ripples of hard, dense muscle lied underneath, their relief muted by the ample fat. “Noon… Dad,” I gulped back. Despite his almost… feral good looks, the man still held the gentle nature I’d known him for. “Aw, shucks,” the beast of a man huffed. “I’m real sorry, kiddo.” He closed the gap and wrapped those enormous arms around me in a tight hug. I felt lightheaded, his grip was so powerful. As was his musk. I got a whiff of his overwhelmingly masculine scent as he crushed me to his torso, my nose buried in between his thick pectorals. I almost cried in protest, but my mouth was filled with body hair the moment I parted my lips. “I missed you so much,” he cooed. I could feel my whole world shaking as he chuckled lightly. I struggled to bring my arms around him, my hand accidentally brushing up against his massive prick as I lifted my hands up and around his waist. Gods, I had to resist the urge to linger with my hand there. How could one man, no less my own father, have become this… this titan? “I missed you too, Dad,” I coughed, the combined effect of his manly aroma and the strength at which he was crushing me with had left me short of breath. He got the message and eased up, letting me crane my neck up to see his dark eyes almost melting into mine. Despite becoming a mountain of a man, I could sense the pride in that look. That he was prouder that I was his son than of the body of a god he had managed to build for himself. I just hoped he didn’t feel the boner poking out of my own crotch. “Ugh, I'm sorry, Corey, I completely lost track of time… you know, work stuff,” he apologized, his eyes open and honest, if a bit nervous. He coughs and releases me. I quickly turn to my side as to hide the 7” of embarrassment in my jeans. He makes his way to the kitchen and grunts. He bends over to get something out of the pantry, the muscles in his ass and hamstrings flaring. It was the first time I got a good look at his back as well, the crevasses and landscape rippling as he moved even in the slightest. He pulled out a whole tub of protein and began to unscrew the lid, the muscles in his forearms dancing. I gave him an incredulous look. “Dad… you install refrigerators,” I said. I watched him pause, and he chuckled. “How’d you, you know, get so big?” I ask nervously. I see my dad pause, as if holding his breath. I wonder if he hadn’t planned for this possibility, or maybe he forgot. He turns slightly to me, his broad chin barely peeking over traps that were almost up to his ears. He sighs as he removes the protective lining, a wisp of powder wafting in the air. “Well,” he starts. He takes a huge, empty shaker and gives it a whiff, his nose scrunching a little bit. He turns around and washes the insides and I get another look at the massive amounts of muscle of his back work in harmony. “Late October I threw my back after a long day at work,” he chuckled, struggling to reach back and touch the small of his back. “Your mother took me to the doctor an’ they gave me an injection, hydrocortisone they claimed. Over the next few days I felt better than ever.” He rolled his massive shoulders and I watched his muscled back writhe. “Didn’t think it’d do this to me!” he boomed jovially. He shook the water out of the bottle and made his way to the fridge. “Can you imagine your pops at over 400 pounds?” he rumbled, tilting his head to side and flashing me a devilishly handsome smile. Jesus, 400 pounds. I felt myself instantly chub up. I stepped back into the living room and found an empty spot on the couch, kicking empty bottles of gainer shakes out of the way. I had to hide the raging boner in my pants, tugging at the bottom of my shirt to drape over my crotch. My dad, gods, he was a monster! He began to mix an almost absurd amount of whey powder into what looked like milk. I couldn’t tell as he went down a line of half open cannisters, dumping chalky white powders into the mix, resulting in something resembling a shake, but with noticeable lumps. I reeled in disgust as he brought the concoction to his lips. His Adam’s apple protruded from his corded neck as he began to guzzle the slurry down, visible chunks of undissolved powder interspersed. The greedy beast was too impatient to mix the shake properly. I also couldn’t help but notice that as his gut protruded slightly from all the liquid he’s ingesting, his package began to stir, the dark tip of his cockhead poking slightly through the top band of his shorts. He quickly adjusts himself, the beast gulping and flashing me a little look, maybe hoping I didn’t see him do that. “How is Mom taking all of this, hehe?” I ask nervously. Immediately, my dad’s face drops. He slowly puts the empty shaker bottle down and begins to prepare another. His eyes droop slightly as he goes through the motions. “Your mom… left,” he replies glumly. He mixes more milk with his powders and gave them a quick shake. He began to chug greedily once more, his Adam’s apple bobbing, the beast rubbing his distended stomach as he fed. His cock lurched from within the confines of his shorts as he gorged himself. It would’ve been enough to get me to start stroking myself, however, the news was setting in. “Excuse me?” I blurted incredulously. My boner was slowly going away but still present enough that I couldn’t stand up from the couch. “What do you mean she left?” I stammered. “Why didn’t you tell me?” My dad put the shaker in his hand down and took a step forward, the space between the kitchen and living room suddenly small, almost claustrophobic. “Corey, please… let me explain. We didn’t want to worry you with school and everything.” The giant loomed over me before making room on the couch beside me, taking up two seats. The seat I was sitting on rises an inch or so from his immense weight. “Your mother left for a lot of reasons,” he sighed. “After the injection, I started getting larger. Ahem, everywhere.” Without inhibition, he flips the band of his shorts down. My eyes bug out when what quite possibly was the largest cock in the world flopped out. It was huge, I knew that, but in the open it was even bigger. Thick as a log of salami, it seemingly grew an inch in length once free from its cotton confines. “Jesus, Dad, okay, I would’ve believed you,” I yelped. “Yeah, but now you know the extent,” he chuckled, melancholic in tone. “In the beginning it was pretty awesome.” He looked down and began to stuff the sausage back into its casing. “We… uh… ahem, we were having a great time. Until maybe Thanksgiving, it started being a hassle. By New Year’s she couldn’t take it any more. And I started getting a little too horny for her.” He sighed as he played with the giant piece of meat through his shorts. “I quit my job, couldn’t focus.” “You quit?” I said incredulously. “I… I got complaints because of indecency. I got canned in February,” he admitted, a blush crossing his cheeks. “Your mother left me after that. Said she couldn’t support me to just jerk off all day long.” I could see the tears welling in the corner of my dad’s eyes. “She’s right you know, I couldn’t control myself, had to… still hafta jerk off couple of times a day. Blessin’ and a curse this thing here is.” “Shit, dad. Let me talk to her,” I whimpered. “No, she changed her phone an’ everything. Up and left and couldn’t figure out how to contact her. She wanted nothing from me and nothing to do with me,” he grumbled. “How… Mom’s not supporting you, you lost your job, how are you supporting yourself?” I asked. “I… um, set up an office downstairs. Working from home now,” he replied. Once again, he motioned to rub the back of his neck, inadvertently giving me quite the display of muscle. “It’s uh, rather expensive equipment, I’d rather you not play around in there, okay?” I just nodded, and he tousled my hair before standing up, causing the weight of the couch to shift again. “I’m going to go take a shower,” he announced as he made his way up the stairs, the wooden frame protesting underneath. “Why don’t you go get unpacked and I’ll go out and get us some dinner, champ?” he asked, a gentle smile on his face. I give him a curt nod and he disappears up the stairs. I move like a zombie, my world going numb as I drag my luggage up the stairs. I could hear the water running and the rhythmic squelching sound of flesh on flesh. I cursed under my breath as I felt myself chubbing up once again, but I pressed on into my room. As I closed the door, a loud roar emanated from the washroom. I think the old man forgot I was here already, having been by himself for so long. I largely ignore the loud wailing coming from the bathroom and busy myself in dusting off my furniture, putting away my clothes and changing my sheets. It would’ve been a nice time to recollect memories, if not for the sexbeast beating off in the shower. Ungh, it. Keeps. Getting. BIGGER! I sat down on my bed, adjusting my erection so that it didn’t pinch. I figured it’d be something I’d have to do a lot of nowadays. I picked up the picture of me with my parents. As hot as my dad had become… I realized all too late that I missed us as a family. I began to death spiral in my thoughts, putting the blame on myself on not coming back for Thanksgiving, thinking I could’ve saved my family, kept Mom from leaving… I must’ve been reminiscing for a while, because Dad knocked on the door before peeping his head in. He was still a bit wet, his t-shirt looking like it was meant to fit him maybe a couple months ago, his shorts fared no better, his bulging assets always on lewd display. I put the picture down, but he catches me looking at it. “I miss her too,” he admitted, a little pain in his voice. “It’s all my fault, Corey.” “No, she chose to leave you… us, I guess,” I laughed. I wiped away the tears and stood up. “C’mon, Dad, you better go pick up some dinner, I haven’t eaten all day thanks to you forgetting to pick me up at the airport.” “Oof, please don’t hold that above my head forever, kiddo,” he chuckles. The warmth was bittersweet. I’ve never really connected with Dad like I am now, it was just a shame it was in the ashes of what became of our family. As I pretend to push him out of the room, I hear his stomach growl. “Heh, maybe I’m not the only one who’s hungry. I bet it takes a lot to feed that body of yours, stud,” I said. I fucking wanted to hang myself, calling my own dad ‘stud.’ Shit, hopefully he thought nothing of it, but from the way he was starting to tent his shorts… “Okay, okay…” he rumbled, grabbing his keys as we made it to the landing. “How’s Chinese sound for tonight?” “Yeah, sounds great,” I replied. As he left, I almost slumped to the ground. I grasped at my length through my jeans and groaned. I knew it was perverse, thinking about my own father like this. But gods, he was perfection. I sat myself on the couch and laid back, thinking of how much he weighed, how he could shift this whole damn sofa cushion just by sitting on it. How he mashed my face into his pecs. I don’t even manage to get my pants down before I’m blowing a load into my underwear. “Shit,” I whimpered. I step out of my jeans and pull my briefs down, my 7” member slick with my gooey payload. I use my briefs to wipe off the rest of my spunk. Sighing, I make my way to the laundry to toss my jeans and underwear into the washer. I noticed a very… distinct pile of clothes in a hamper by the washer and dryer. It was just filled with socks. Curious, I put my hand into the hamper and instantly recoil when I feel something cold and wet. “Jesus, no…” I gasped. I gingerly pick up a sock in the hamper, old and grey. It was sopping wet, a trail of oozing, viscous liquid trailing from the end as I lifted it. “Oh shit,” I whined. All of these socks… Oh fuck. My eyes go wide and my mouth curls into a grimace when I realize Dad wasn’t kidding when he said he had to relieve his urges at least a few times a day. I drop the sock back into the hamper. Looking at my fingers, I realize there’s a filmy residue of my dad’s spunk on my fingers leftover. I… I couldn’t help myself. He was the hottest thing on the planet, I just needed to know… I brought my index finger to my mouth. I wish I hadn’t. The taste was something else, salty, almost meaty. I needed more. I lapped up the rest of the seed on my fingers and whined when there was none left. My cock throbbed with need, recently spent but reenergized from licking up my Dad’s semen. I regretted what I did next before I even did it. I grabbed at the sock I had just thrown back into the hamper and brought it above my head. I opened my mouth and wrung the sock out with a twist, squeezing out my father’s tasty sperm. I moaned as I gobbled up his delicious seed, craving more. After getting as much of it as I could, I grabbed at another and did the same. In my head I knew this was fucked up, but I couldn’t stop, it tasted so good. My cock bobbed and lurched and before long I was blowing a huge wad of my own cum right into the hamper, adding my own meagre offering to the pool. I tossed my jeans and underwear into the washer and walked away, trying to sort my head out. I couldn’t believe I had just done that. But my lust still clouded my thoughts, I still savoured that flavour, craved it. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to get it straight from the source... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- PART 2: ...And Sometimes, I Find Out My Dad's a Growing Freak... >> Wonder what's in the basement...
  6. Do. Not. Open. There's strange things on the deep web. by Vertical The lights flicker on in my apartment, a flash of bluish-tinged light flooding the modest abode. Utilitarian some would say. Spartan others. Though, I hadn’t looked like those stringent, austere warriors in quite a while. I throw my workout bag and the package I had found in front of my door to the side, the sound of empty shaker bottles rattling from within the bag, their contents long gone into the fueling the beast I was becoming. These days, I never missed an opportunity to marvel at the wonders my body had become, a paragon that even Hercules himself would look up to. I was never without a mirror in a room. And I was never one to refuse myself a little show. I saunter up to the one in my living room, its only contents a desktop computer on a desk, a chair, and the mirror. I roll the sleeve on my t-shirt up, admiring the beautiful carved landscape that was my arm. I had worked hard for guns like these, I trained harder than anyone in the iron pit. And it showed. Not many can claim to have 52” biceps, fewer still while maintaining a physique as carved as mine on a 7’3” frame. I’d say that measurement was taken cold, but I’m always pumping them, always making sure there was blood feeding my most prized muscle. I begin to jack it to my own image, my thick cock already slithering its way down my leg, poking it’s red, angry head through the leg’s sleeve of my workout shorts. At just shy of a couple foot, I like to think it’s my biggest muscle. I roar, my heavy pecs straining against my tee, my nips scraping against the cotton fabric as I double fist myself, my dick squelching as the foreskin is pulled and pushed over the thick cockhead over and over. I bellow, almost sounding like a prized bull as my huge balls pull up, volleyball sized organs seizing as they ascend and inject their contents, mixing it with the juices my overproductive prostate secreted before a white mess surges out of my rod and sprays millions of possibilities all over my mirror. The image of my godly body, all 800 pounds of drug-fueled beast, distorts as more and more cum blasts out of my epic length. By the time I’m finished, not an inch of the mirror is spared, nor had it been for months now, not since the latest batch of ‘supplements’ had arrived. I wasn’t always like this, everyone had to start somewhere. And for me, that was 120 pounds, 5’8”, sopping wet and without a single notification on Grindr. To most, I was nothing, I was nothing men looked for, nor was I the draw of their derision. I was essentially nothing, invisible. Brown eyes, black hair, slim build, and being smooth as silk despite my Greek heritage got me no attention, good or bad. It was sheer chance that I found the website that would change my life. I wasn’t particularly familiar with the deep web, but I was getting desperate for a date. If muscles were the problem, then illicit steroids were the answer. I ordered a cycle of Deca, not knowing what I was doing. I convinced myself that it was working, that it’d get me huge. I made gains, grew 20 pounds over the course of a couple months and I was feeling fantastic. Stronger, bigger, I was becoming the man I wanted to be. Then I found the dark web forum, Masspig. I was exploring options for my second cycle, the chemicals in me raging throughout my 140-pound body, eager to get jacked no matter the cost. It was a link from one of the suppliers I was considering to buy from. It pointed to a forum, the site as blank as my apartment. Its focus was clear, just like mine – getting huge. On it, I found men taking experimental drugs, things not even the bodybuilders could get their hands on. Freaks, each 300 pounds or more adorned image boards, the list a good 10 or so pages worth of topics. The first thread I opened detailed the evolution of a man, born and raised a simp, turning into a veritable god. I scrolled through images of him, a middle-aged beanpole growing vast. Halfway through his transformation, he was the size of a professional heavyweight bodybuilder, his body covered in a layer of furry salt and pepper hair. By the time I scrolled down to the bottom, I was blowing a watery load out of my smallish cock, having blown two already as I watched him grow over the course of 5 years in 32 images. How a 40 year old man, a 600 pound living embodiment of a god, could possibly fit into his tight clothing and how he could ever fit his 16” cock into his screaming wife was a mystery. His stack however, was not. I ordered it the moment I saw the hyperlink. In a matter of months, I grew from 140 pounds to just under 200. Not only was I horned up constantly, but my body was positively humming with energy. I needed to lift things constant. I’d wake up at 5 in the morning, a raging hard-on going as I craved the gym. I’d blast a load out, the imprint of my 7” dong throbbing all the way to the gym. I’d moan as I drank gallons of vaguely puke-flavoured protein shakes; boning up to the thoughts of it all making me bigger. And it did. Then I found another thread, an 18 year old kid, cocky as all hell. His thread took the growth factor up to 11. A year after he started posting, the guy had put on over 200 pounds of pure mass, going from a solid 180 pounds with the body of a college wrestler, to a roided-out mass-freak whose neck was being swallowed up. By the time he was 20, he was even bigger than the middle-aged DILF from the other thread. He’d post vids of himself, his voice cracking as it grew deeper. I’d jack along to his solo vids, moaning along with him as he described how big the drugs were making his cock. That’s when my addiction to real mass took hold. I ate more, 6 meals a day became 8, I was actively chugging protein shakes laced with some of the stuff I found online. I worked out constantly. Once in the morning, once during my lunch break and I spent all my free time in the iron pit. By the time I reached 300 pounds, people began to fear me, respect me. I was throwing twinks around in bed, flipping tricks on the daily. By 400 pounds, no one would touch me. Not like they deserved to, anyhow. I was jerking off constantly, admiring my 30” arms as they jiggled with each stroke, 13” of steel hard cock in my hands as I continued to grow, my desire for hugeness never ceasing. That’s when I saw it. The thread that would change my life. There was a new one named ‘Do.’ Posted by one user simply named ‘Cumpig.’ I opened the thread and was floored. The transformation of the man there in that thread surpassed anything I had seen before. He was a soft-handed hipster type, his hair tied back into a man-bun despite the obvious signs that he’d never touched an axe in his life. A living paradox, a joke of masculinity. The first picture in his transformation was of him injecting himself, the syringe glowing a pale, bright red. The next few pictures were of him lifting, hair sprouting out of his chest, the once-baby-smooth body of a boy now rippling with hard-earned mass and muscle. The guy’s physique evolved further, his furry abs blowing up into a massive abgut as he grew beyond the confines of normalcy. As I looked further down, the pictures grew increasingly lewd. Now more monster than man, the hirsute gargantuan was shown splintering a tree trunk over his meatlog, a river of spunk blasting out of the cockhead, the picture filtered into a faded black and white. Another pic showed him lifting trees, old, ancient oaks, right out of their roots... with one hand, the other free one busy tweaking at his silver dollar sized nipples. There were vids as well, one where someone is yelling at him, ‘do it.’ He screamed in agony, but I couldn’t turn away as I came to his godhood, watching him lift a loaded pick up truck above his head. The last picture was simply him standing in all his naked magnificence, his beard and musclegut exposed, his cock dangling between his legs a slow trickle of preseed ever present. ‘Do. One ton,’ was the caption. A freaking ton of mass on a man. I dreamed of sucking off that immense man, worshipping the god he had become. I craved that size. I needed it. I continued to grow. At 500 pounds, none of the weights at my old gym posed even a modicum of a challenge to my growing body. My arms were already 36” around, already thicker than most men’s waists. But still it wasn’t enough. I bought a membership at a place across town that claimed to be hardcore. It wasn’t much better, but it’d have to do. It would definitely have to do. By the time I had reached 600 pounds of pure brawn, I knew I was reaching my limit. With every breath, I would have to take a good deep drawl through my nostrils just to get enough oxygen in. I sweat constantly, my odour filling any room I entered. When I walked, my nipples would rub against the top of my upper abdomen, they’d get hard and sometimes when I took my shirt off I’d find they’d chiseled a hole through the fabric. I was taller than any man I had met, 7’ tall and too wide to fit through doors. It was only a matter of time before I wouldn’t be able to fit through them sideways. At this size, only the freaks found me appealing, size queens. The last one that tried, neither his ass nor his mouth could satisfy me, his body too frail to service 20” of cock. I kicked him out and finished myself off, basking in my own hugeness as I jacked off while rubbing my furry eight pack. But still, I wanted more, I wanted to be a ton of muscle too. The second thread was opened by Cumpig around that time. It was titled ‘Not.’ It featured a twink, small in stature and smooth. His beautiful round face, his pale, yellow skin, dark hooded eyes and jet black hair, he was more at home in a fashion mag than a place like this. The topic of this thread was decidedly darker. The same reddish glow emanated from a syringe is featured in the first image detailing his transformation, only this time, the recipient was hogtied, a look of fear in his eyes as the syringe was forced into his scrotum, red suffusing into his veins glowing underneath his milky skin. Cumpig’s pictures were more detail this time. A group of us forum goers on Masspig flocked to the thread with glee as updates were frequent. We watched as that twink grew. At first, stubble erupted from the boyish lad’s face, his jaw becoming more defined and angular, almost hawk-like. His body was a different story. Whereas the first beast had grown bloated with power, this one seethed with lean mass. In a matter of months, the once cute little twink had transformed into a proper beast. One week he was smaller than me, the next his arms were an inch larger than mine, his body pushing past the 700 pounds of muscle I had at the time. I was diligent, constantly growing myself, combining cycles and techniques to push my body past its breaking point. But it didn’t matter, I was nothing compared to Cumpig’s latest project. And he didn’t stop. Week after week, I was treated to larger arms, hairy pits, pecs that jutted feet in front of his sternum and thighs that were thicker than the benches at the gym. I came so hard to a livestreamed video of him gorging himself with food, his hands roaming down his sculpted body, so lean that new ridges in his abdomen were visible underneath his paper-thin skin, the reliefs of his muscles only obscured slightly by a thin coat of black hair. Other videos were more sinister, the giant bound to a machine, forced to workout his god-like muscles. ‘You are not in control,’ a metallic voice rang out. ‘I. AM. NOT. IN. CONTROL,” the beast would howl back, sent into a muscle frenzy, his chest rising further with each pump. I’d lose control too, blowing huge wads of cum all over my modest setup as I watched the latest vids posted by Cumpig. The final image was a chained beast, the tiny little twink having transformed into an animal barely able to be contained. Just like the last one, the man was huge beyond belief, his arms easily thicker than my entire body, his pectorals fighting for space against his biceps and lats. Speaking of which, his muscles were so overblown, his lats practically touched his glutes. The saturation of the image was enhanced, showing off the relief of each muscle on the freak’s wide torso. I had never seen so many abs, serrati and obliques in stark relief, a genuine work of art. And maybe that’s all he was. Cumpig’s caption: Not. One ton. It had been a good six months since I last saw a post in that thread, but everyday I’d log into Masspig and check, just to see. Today, I eagerly hopped on my computer, gingerly sitting down on the reinforced steel chair as to not accidentally crumple it like the last one. The 800 pounds of muscle on my body quivers as I anticipate nothing, used to the disappointment of just seeing 600 pound men flex their stuff. It was almost sad, outgrowing the need for the site, Cumpig was the only reason I logged on any more. And there it was. A new thread started by Cumpig, a cute little avatar of an adorable, child-like pig. I licked my lips and looked at the title of the thread. ‘Open.’ I click the link, eager to see his latest project, what small, insignificant speck would be raised into godhood this time? My heart stops when I see the before images. It was of me. Old photos taken 6 or 7 years ago, when I was tiny, when I was nothing, less than a maggot! But unlike the others, the before photos continued to show me as I grew. There, one that was taken 5 years ago, 200 pounds of Mediterranean beef flexing at the beach, my arms and legs tanned, the muscles nicely highlighted. A year later, 300 pounds, my size outshining any bodybuilder on the circuit. 400, 500, 600, all these photos of me progressively getting larger, progressively more massive, my ascent to hugeness slow. My heart begins to race as I scroll down, posts from some of the regulars saying how hot I was. At the bottom, I see a livestream... with my hulking figure in it. I stare into my webcam, my face staring back at me on the screen. My cheeks go red, realizing that they had probably watched me explode all over my mirror earlier. The chat to the stream was explosive, almost everyone I had ever interacted with on the website was buzzing, calling me a god, saying how gorgeous my body already was. “Open,” a metallic voice calls out. I can’t pinpoint the origin of the sound, it feels like everywhere. “Open. Open. Open.” My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest, the sound ringing in my head was unexplainable. I look at the chat. They’re all telling me to turn around and take the package. I look behind me and see it resting beside my bag. I can’t believe I had forgotten about it. I rip into the parcel and a card falls out, sturdy cardstock shaped in the likeness of a cartoon pig. ‘Oink oink,’ was all that was inscribed on it. Underneath it however... my eyes go wide, reflecting the soft reddish glow of the syringe held therein. The whole building shakes, my voice growing deeper and deeper as I feel the power surge through me, as my destiny flowed through my veins. Unbeknownst to me, another addition was added to the thread on my computer, another addition to Cumpig's strange art gallery. [placeholder] Open. One ton. *** This one's less sweet compared to the last one, just pure self indulgence on my part.
  7. Thanks everyone, glad you enjoyed the short story. I may revisit it in some way down the line!
  8. A Little Rusty by Vertical A crisp chill runs through the trees, the green leaves rustling, hints of red and orange peeking through. Autumn was coming and so was change. The hum of my engine keeps me company as I drive down the country road, red streaking through the sky in a brilliant display. They say the country is no place for a guy my age; young, 18, right on the cusp of adulthood. They say, ‘see the city, see the lights.’ And deep down, I wanted that. But the scene that played out in front of me, flat earth as far as the eye can see, seas of corn stalks billowing in the wind, that was enough to give me pause on those thoughts. We had grown up in these fields, played football in these fields. I even got my nickname ‘Rusty’ in these fields when I got a nasty bout of tetanus from an old nail in my junior year. Burton was a small town, one where everyone knew each other and words travelled faster than the flocks of crows from field to field. It was my home, still is. And unlike most of the kids that grow up in this small corner of the Earth, in our little haven of 2500 or so people, I wasn’t moving on come September. ‘It’s not fair,’ Pa had said, his fist shaking the dinner table, steak and potatoes that night. ‘Immigrants takin’ all the spots in college, them Asians,’ my Grampa corrected, an older, more dignified look on his face. I didn’t look neither of them in the eye that night as my third meagre envelope came in the mail. I couldn’t face them, couldn’t take their denial. I just wasn’t smart enough for college. Ma told me, her hand running through my corn-blonde hair, just a shade darker than hers, ‘Try again next year, Rory. ‘Til then, you can work at your uncle’s shop.’ And that’s all I could do. Maybe that’s all I was meant to do, fix tractors for the rest of my life. Country ran through my blood after all, destined to be another stoic, strong, corn-fed blonde haired, green eyed Saunders man stuck in Burton his whole life. Another picture on the wall on the old family farm. Was it fair? I look to my side, a paltry bouquet of flowers resting on the passenger seat of my Chevy. I couldn’t afford roses, so a sad bunch of slightly dry periwinkles would have to do. My whole life, I wouldn’t be moving forward. At least it felt that way. That’s why today mattered most. Everyone was leaving, college would be starting soon and families across Burton would say goodbye to yet another cohort of hopeful youths, eager to explore life beyond the corn fields. And that meant Liam was leaving too. Liam Smith wasn’t like the other kids. For one, the weedy, ruddy brown haired boy was the only outed gay guy in all of Burton. Tara Thompson, in all her wiles, had caught the beanpole of a brown-haired boy sneaking peeks at an old muscle mag at her father’s store when we were in middle school. As inevitable as the weeds that run along the sides of the gravel-lined back roads, within a few days, everyone in our grade knew. A few jocks, those who played football in the hollowed-out cornfields, gave him heck for a while, the once wily, mischievous kid growing silent, his esteem crushed. Being one of the guys, I stood by, silently condoning their actions. It rarely got physical, and me and the more sensible athletes would intervene before it got serious, but I’ll never forget the hurt in his eyes. They were dark, brooding and most of all, they haunted me in my sleep. Because I was like Liam, and I stood by and watched my friends heckle him. I tried to give him hints that we were the same. I’d bump into him, the mousy brunette apologizing reflexively. I’d flash him a smile. I cornered him one day in April of senior year, my arms blocking his exit. His hair was disheveled, even for a bowl-cut, his eyes wide as saucers. I could tell he was staring at the vein running down my bicep, hard earned sinew. I had clenched my fingers against the cold metal of the locker behind him, letting him watch the vein dance underneath my tanned skin. He was scared, maybe too scared to take the hint. I told him to ‘have a nice night’ before leaving, I should’ve kissed him instead. And that’s what I was here to do. I pull up to the old Smith farm, a modest garden lined with periwinkles. Of all things. The Smiths were quiet folk, they rarely came to town, came to church for Thanksgiving, Christmas and every other Easter. They weren’t always so reclusive, Mrs. Smith used to always come to the local market with a bright smile. Mr. Smith, a big, bearded man, used to teach kids how to shoot in his fields. Everyone trusted him with their kids, he was one of us, a Burtonite. But one day, when I was 15, something happened. The adults in town were hush-hush about it. But like all words, they spread quickly in Burton. Kid in a grade below caught wind it had something to do with Jedidiah, Liam’s older brother. Unlike Liam, Jed took on a persona that befitted his stock – a strong, proud man like his father, his brown locks reaching down to his shoulders in curly locks, facial hair lining his cheeks even at the age of 18. I had heard Jed had shot someone. Some say he committed suicide. All I know was that he didn’t show around school any more after that day. Liam looked sullen, I remember that much. At least, from that day on, the boys thought twice before making a snarky remark towards him. He didn’t bother anyone, and no one bothered him. Mrs. Smith came to town less often, her smile painted whenever she did smile, no joy radiated from within. Mr. Smith no longer took anyone to his fields to rifle. A pall grew over the Smith farm, and people rarely ventured to their little slice of Burton anymore. Except me. I step out of my truck, taking a longing look at the bunch of half-dead flowers staring back at me. I sigh, taking the bouquet in hand before closing the door. Apart from my Chevy, there was one other vehicle in the driveway, one I didn’t recognize. Mr. Smith’s old beat up Ford wasn’t there, nor was Liam’s junker of a rice burner. There beside my truck was a newer model of it, this year’s, maybe last’s, the dust and mud on mine contrasted with the chrome of other. I pause in my advance, wondering if I have the right place, but I know these fields, I remember Mr. Smith’s strong hands showing me how to hold a rifle just over yonder when I was young. With trepidation, I walk up to the front porch, ascending the steps one at a time, the old wood creaking underneath my footfalls. I hold the flowers behind my back, my heart leaping out of my chest, perspiration marring my brow and staining the underarms of my black shirt. I knock on the old door, the metal screen peeling around the outer screen door. I don’t sense anything at first, but then I hear a stirring about from within. I could feel the nervous dread in me and I almost flaked like the white paint along the old Smith farm’s sidings. The front door swings open and my eyes go wide as I stare up... and up. I was a tall fellow, Ma used to say ‘6 feet and proud, like an oak.’ The man before me had to have me beat by almost a head, maybe 6’6” or more. His eyes were a mellow, warm brown. A Smith for sure. Locks of curly hair adorned his crown down to his shoulders, his strong face covered in a light dusting of brown fuzz, a week after a shave or so. “Jed?” I blurted, looking the man in the face. He looked like Liam’s older brother but... older. Though, I suppose that was inevitable. The man pauses for a moment and then smirks, his cheeks rosy as he nods. “Rory Saunders, what brings you here?” he booms, his heavy hand reaching out through the rip in the screen door to rest on my shoulder. His voice was deeper, less boyish than I remember. His smile was kind, like Mr. Smith’s used to be, like all the Smiths used to be. Time had that effect on a man as well. And time seemed to have treated Jed well. Not only was he tall, but he was brutally thick. Wearing nothing but a stringer A-shirt and a pair of workout shorts, the fabric was plastered onto his form. Large mounds of muscle bunch up underneath, not unlike that of a bodybuilder’s. But Jed’s muscles were different, they were honest, the likes of those of a man who worked the land like an ox; in another word – he was rough, hewn out of brutish hands. “I...” I gulp, unable to process what I was seeing in front of me. Jed had turned into a giant over the three years he had gone missing. “Spit it out, boy,” the bestial man grunts. Authority oozed from every pore, even the musky smell coming off him demanded respect. He must’ve been lifting something, I could smell the metallic residue on the hand on my shoulder. “Is Liam in?” I ask meekly, more mouse than man, my voice cracking like I was 12 again. “Hah,” the man booms, a big, boisterous smile on his face. “You just missed him, he went into town to get something for dinner. Our folks are out of town an’ I’m just here to help Liam move out. You’re welcome to stay ‘til he gets back.” He swings the screen door open and puts his back to the door, supposedly inviting me in. I gulp as I squeeze past him. He was so thick, he took up more than half of the doorway, even turned to his side. I slide past him, my cheek brushing up against the man’s chest. My breath grows shallow as my nose bumps into one of his protruding nipples. I could swear I heard him coo a little. “Now wait a second,” he rumbles, his hand catching mine. Shit, the flowers. “What’s the meaning of this?” he grunts, seizing the wilting bouquet. My blood freezes, ice in my veins as I look up at him, a shocked look on his face. “Please,” I whimper. Burton wasn’t the worst place for a faggot, no one would dare to lynch one in public, but in the privacy of their own homes? “Rory, are... you?” Jed blurts, his eyes curious. His expression softens and the giant takes me under his arm and playfully presses his fist into the crown of my head. “Well I’ll be,” he booms, his voice filled with warmth. The pressure, the stench; both were strong and overwhelmingly masculine. I could feel myself getting aroused. “Looks like Liam did well, caught himself a cute jock,” Jed chuckles, patting me on the back as he brushes past me and into the small kitchen, pouring out a glass of sweet tea. He offers it to me and what else could I do but accept? I take meagre sips, the giant man watching me intently. My mouth drank in the sugary tea, my eyes drank in his body. In the soft light, I could see every detail the quick glances of him I took of him outside missed. His shoulders were broad, like an ox’s, his back blotting out the artificial yellow light from the kitchen as he leans into the doorway. His pectorals spilled out a good foot from his chest, each rounded and full. Pulled tight against his body, the stringer outlined the ridges of his abdominals. His arms, each had to be the size of melons. His thighs, they rivalled the size of my torso, his shorts barely came down a quarter of each boulder of muscle. The giant catches me watching, a wolfish, almost feral smirk on his face as he brushes a hand along his basket. That thing was oversized as well, looking as if it had been stuffed with several pairs of socks, almost comically large. “You know, Rusty, I was in the middle of a workout, you’re welcome to join me while we wait,” he offers, his big, almost ursine form lumbers past me as he descends down a flight of stairs into the basement. I get a look at his back, traps and lats so large the man’s massive arms scrape along the sides of both walls along the way down. His glutes swing in a bodybuilder’s swagger. Dumbfounded, I slowly follow him down from a distance. The basement was barely furnished, the floor covered in epoxy, the bare minimum in finishings done to the space. A slight chill runs through my spine, the low 7’ ceiling and dim lighting giving off a claustrophobic vibe, especially given how much space Jed took up. The energy in the room was tense. I watch as Jed makes his way to an old bench press, a few slightly rusted dumbbells lining the far wall from the landing of the basement. “I know it’s not much, but this is all we had,” the beast of a man chuckles, shaking his head, his mane of hair swinging side to side. He takes one look at the bench and smiles as he piles on plate after plate. I stand there, gawking at the amount of weight he was attempting. “C’mon, buddy, gimme a spot?” I nod and walk over, ready to assist him. “Hey,” I gulp, my tone cautious, unwilling to challenge his authority. “You forgot the clips,” I say meekly, bending down, and fastening the pieces of metal to the bar, holding the plates in place. “Ah, yeah. Thanks, Rusty,” Jed grunts, a little red on his cheeks from the embarrassment. “Just got a little too excited ‘bout lifting, is all!” With a loud grunt, he lifts the bar off its rest and slowly brings it down. I watch him, concentration stricken on his handsome visage. He exhales sharply, bringing the bar down to touch his enormous chest. “Hey! Exhale on the way up!” I bark. A gnawing shock runs through me, unbelieving I had just blurted that out. I fear I may have overstepped his authority again, but the beast is focused on his lift, baring his canines as he forces the bar up, his arms shaking. The second rep is smoother and I feel myself going red in the face as I watch his body in motion, each muscle working in tandem with its neighbours to gently bring the bar down and then push it back up. Apart from the first rep, it didn’t look like he needed my help anymore. “Five... six...” he growls lowly, his voice echoing in my head, deep and reverberating. And growing deeper. By the seventh rep, I notice why. His chest, already pumped, blasts larger as he brings the weight down, his nipples now visible though the sleeves of the shirt. His face is red, his eyes glazed over as he moans lewdly. I hear ripping, the sound of fabric losing a war against sheer mass. The first to give was his shorts, splitting along the sides as his titanic thighs grow. “Nine... ten...” he grunts, his voice almost inhuman now, barely audible, half sound, half vibration. The growing beast’s lats devour the bench, the leather now only touching the small of his back. His chest bursts out of the shirt, his nipples pointing downwards with one rep, pointing inwards on the next. His groans sound like that of a tortured beast, his skin an angry shade of red and the heat coming off his body was like that of a working furnace. “Aungh,” he snarls. He throws the weight off of him, the barbell crashing into the ground, the floor rumbling as hundreds of pounds crash into the floor, leaving divots. With an unceremonious rip, the beast’s member bursts through his thin underwear. A low thwack rings throughout the dingy basement, an overwhelming musk permeating the air. The giant’s knob reaches halfway up his torso, the head larger than an apple resting between the mountains of his chest. Dark flesh pulses, writhing with veins, the shaft as thick as salami. “Rusty,” Jed commands, his voice a mix of human and something animal. He points to a toolbox. “Tape measure,” he orders. His hands reach down to wrap around his massive shaft, his grunts and growls filling the air, the smell of sex now overwhelming. As I rifle through the tools, I can already hear the pre splattering out of his cockhead, his balls audibly gurgling, each the size of a small bowling ball. I find the strip of plastic and turn around to see ropes of pre-seed jettisoning out of his piss-slit with enough force to rival any other man’s orgasm. “Ough, measure it,” he growls lowly, pushing the slick member down, forcing it away from his body. I gulp as I draw near, watching in disbelief as his body continues to throb, continues to grow. Hairs sprout and darken all over him, concentrating along the midline up his abdomen, joining a lush forest of hair between his pecs, the hairs shining with a mixture of pre-seed and sweat. His stubble had grown out into a beard, curly and dense. I was looking at something no longer truly human. This man, this beast... he had turned into something beyond what a man could be. I do as he says, yelping as he flexes his inner pelvis, his rod shuddering. “Oh my God,” I whimper. “What does it say?” he grunts, answering my call to divinity. “31 inches,” I gasp, my hands trembling next to his godhood. Over 2 and a half feet of dick was mere inches from my face. “Urgh... AGAIN!” he roars. Veins snake up his neck as he flexes harder, every muscle in his body pushing out. New networks grow, more blood vessels forming to feed his body. He howls lowly, no longer a beast but a god, his wailing completely devoid of humanity. My stomach churns, watching as his muscles billow outwards like storm clouds. His arms grow larger than a bodybuilder’s chest. His mass is so immense, his body crashes to the floor as the bench gives way to his bulk. “Mmph!” he snarls, enjoying the sensation of his wide shoulders, now wider than I was tall, slamming into the ground. His chest pushes his chin upwards, his neck swallowed his traps. So much muscle spills forth, his abs are forced outwards, the god sporting eight ridges on a gut covered in shag. “Again, Rusty,” he moans lowly, his right hand slowly feeling up his new abgut, massaging his pre-seed into the dense fur. “Measure my fuckin’ dick, shrimp!” he roars, his left hand almost becoming a blur as he strokes himself with abandon. His thighs, each a leviathan on their own, flex in concert as they thrust his hips upwards in time to his fervent, mad stroking. “36 inches, Liam,” I whimper. “The fuck did you just call me?” the god snarls. “Liam,” I repeat, tears welling in my eyes as I shrink away from him. The musclebound deity’s expression softens, his grimace turning into a knowing, wily grin. I had seen it once before, maybe when I was much younger. “Jed would never call me ‘Rusty.’ He went away before I got tetanus.” “You know,” the musclegod rumbles, slowly getting to his feet. The giant was so tall, he had to stoop, his shoulders touching the low ceiling. He took up so much space, he was almost as wide as he was tall, all of it covered in muscle and hair. “You’re way smarter than they say you are, Rory. I always knew that.” His big paw comes down, covering my entire shoulder. “W-what happened... what’s happening to you?” I stammer. “Same thing that happened to Jed,” Liam replies quietly. “He just started growing out of the blue one day. Ma and Pa called the doctors. We never saw him again.” His face grows pensive, his expressive eyes full of sadness. He bowls forward, one massive mitt grabbing at my torso and he hoists me upwards, placing me gently on his engorged cock, my thighs spreading out as if riding a horse. The heat coming off his body is intense. The smell of his sex invigorates me, as if pure testosterone was diffusing in the air around him. “Except I’m bigger, way bigger,” he rumbles. I could feel his voice shaking me to my core. “I’m way stronger,” he moans, his lust reaching a fever pitch. His arms wrap around me, his giant hands reaching past me to jack himself off. His pectorals push at my face, my nostrils filling with his scent, lush hair scratching at my cheeks. “O-oh,” he whimpers, his rod growing more sensitive as he nears orgasm – apotheosis. “F-fuck!” he roars. It had begun. His chest surrounds my head, his gigantic biceps squeeze around my shoulders, forcing my arms to hug his gargantuan abgut. His cock throbs underneath me, I can feel the blood in his veins pushing at the surface of his dick with each involuntary flex against my thighs. I scream as the monstrously-built musclegod brings his cock upwards to hug against his body. The front of my face is pressed against his pectorals, the back of my head feels the sheer pressure of his ejaculate pushing through his urethra, the strain echoing through his shaft. My world is muffled, the sound drowned out by his muscles, my sight gone as I’m forced against brawn not even a pantheon of gods could possibly possess. My skin writhes as hot liquid pours over me. One minute becomes two, two becomes four. After eight minutes of pure sensory overload, Liam crashes to his knees and releases his cock from a chokehold. I sputter and slide off his massive cock, coughing as I land in an inch deep pool of semen. I wipe my face, forcing myself onto my hands and knees and look up at him. His magnificent form glistens with perspiration, his deep, heavy breathing causing his expansive chest to grow inches with each inhalation. He smiles and chuckles deeply as he crawls forward, great tides of semen pushing to the side as he advances. With a finger, he pushes at my chest, an audible squish ringing throughout the room as I fall onto my back. The hulking mass of muscle quivers as he easily rips my shirt and pants off, my own comparatively modest endowment poking straight up in the air. “You’re bigger than I thought,” he coos, his voice like an earthquake. “8? 9 inches?” he growls as his strong tongue works its way down. “9!” I bark as his lips clamp down on my shaft all the way to its base, my thick shaft not even reaching the back of his throat. I arc my back, my own muscles writhing in unison as he sucks me with such force he could rip the skin right off if he went any further. “Oh... God... Liam!” I wail synonyms as he works my shaft. I thrust upwards, shooting a thick load down his throat. The giant hums graciously as he accepts my meagre offering. I could feel a wave of pressure coming off him with each of my thrusts. If my pittance of a tithe offering was adding to his mass, it was barely a drop in the ocean of muscle that made up his body. I crumple in the cooling pool of Liam’s god-spunk, spent and basking in euphoric afterglow. I look up at the giant with a shit-eating grin, past the muscles, past the hair and deep into his eyes. Beautiful, brown, they still haunted me. “I’m leaving,” he announces, the solemn, pensive look I’d come to know him to have returning. “Once my parents get back, there’ll be questions.” He looks me in the eyes and then puts out a hand, the palm larger than my head. “Come with me, Rusty. My parents got me that new truck. I’ll take up the bed, you drive.” It wasn’t a command, but a plea. A smirk grows on his handsome face, warm and cheerful. “With as productive as I am, I’m going to need you to take a bit of the pressure off if I’m gonna do well in college,” he adds with a wink. I take his hand, my own like a babe’s in his. He pulls me in, our lips meeting for the first time. Maybe I would be leaving Burton after all. *** Long time lurker, first time poster. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!
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