Popular Post vertical Posted January 11, 2018 Popular Post Share Posted January 11, 2018 ...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. 62 4 4 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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