#dad takeover

[beardysuits]

Series: Oiled Up

Hey ya’ll, I’ve been thinking a lot lately and I want to focus on a series of stories with a similar premise to start off with. The idea comes from a favorite story of mine, Enrique’s Antics.

This series would focus on a passed along oil recipe which allows the user to slip into another person, taking them over like a skin suit. Out of all possession methods, this is the one which excites me the most, and I want to explore it as an anthology. For now, I would like to introduce the first one of these, Daryl’s story.

Daryl

I’d been watching Frank Harlan from my living room window for the better part of a year, my thick gut pressed against the sill while my cock throbbed in my sweatpants every time he stepped out to mow the lawn or haul groceries. He was everything I wasn’t on the outside—burly, solid, late fifties, with a heavy dad-bod belly that hung just right over his belt, thick arms corded from years of construction work, a salt-and-pepper beard that framed a square jaw, and a deep, rumbling voice that carried across the fence like gravel wrapped in velvet. His chest hair peeked out the top of every worn plaid shirt, and the way his jeans hugged the heavy bulge between his thighs made my mouth water. I was the chubby, quiet guy next door—soft all over, pale, smooth-skinned, with a belly that jiggled when I walked and had always made me ashamed of myself.

The favor had been simple: two weeks ago my car battery died in the driveway after getting home from my shit gas station job. Frank came over without being asked, flashlight in hand, and got me running again in ten minutes flat. He’d clapped me on the shoulder with that strong hand, grinned behind his beard, and said, “Anytime, neighbor. That’s what we’re here for.” I’d jerked off three times that night just replaying the weight of his palm on me.

Tonight I couldn’t hold back anymore.

I mixed the drink in my kitchen. Really it was just a bottle of bourbon I mixed with a ton of sleep medicine. Then I poured the magic oil into a wide-mouthed jar, the thick golden stuff already shimmering under the light, warm to the touch like it had a pulse of its own. I’d found the recipe in an old leather-bound book at a back-alley occult shop. I had passed it so many times on my way to work, but something almost mystical made me pull into the alley next to it, and be greeted by the mysterious merchant inside. He was almost eager to sell me the book at a discounted rate, and I could have sworn he licked his lips upon my purchase. I read through the book and found the description for this oil. Lather yourself up, and it was like you were clay, and could enter the body of any host of your choosing, given you had access to the proper opening. It seemed impossible and stupid to try, but my infatuation with Frank became too much for me to handle just fantasizing about anymore.

I knocked on Frank’s front door at 9:00 pm. He answered in a faded blacm T-shirt that stretched across his barrel chest and loose basketball shorts that did nothing to hide the heavy swing of his cock. His belly pushed the hem up just enough to show a strip of hairy skin.

“Hey, Daryl,” he rumbled, smiling. “What’s up?”

“Brought you a thank-you drink,” I said, holding up the bourbon. “For the jump-start. Figured you might be winding down after work.”

He laughed that low belly-laugh and took it. “You didn’t have to, but I won’t say no.” He took a long wiff, nostrils tantalized, then another. “Damn, that’s smooth. Come on in, I’ll grab us a couple of glasses”.

We sat in his living room for maybe fifteen minutes, talking about nothing. Weather, the neighbor down the street who kept parking on the grass. I watched the drug hit him in slow, perfect stages: his eyelids drooping, his words getting thicker, that strong body slumping deeper into the recliner until his head lolled back and his mouth fell open with a soft snore. His belly rose and fell, the front of his shorts tenting slightly from the way he was sprawled. Perfect.

My heart hammered as I locked the front door, killed the lights, and stripped right there in the living room. My own soft, heavy body spilled out. Pale belly, thick thighs, cock already half-hard and leaking. I unscrewed the jar of magic oil. It was warm, almost hot, and when I poured the first thick rope across my chest it felt like liquid sunlight. I rubbed it in slow, greedy circles, coating every inch of my skin until I glistened head to toe. The oil sank in, and for a moment I felt utterly ridiculous. But then I could feel a tingle ring through me. My skin shimmered gold, every roll and curve now impossibly glossy, frictionless, ready. My cock looked obscene, fat, dripping, sliding through my own oiled fist like it was made of warm glass.

Frank was still out cold. I knelt between his spread thighs, hooked my slick fingers into the waistband of his shorts, and peeled them down along with his boxers. His cock flopped out heavy and thick, half-hard even unconscious, nestled in a thick bush of dark, graying hair. His balls hung low and full. I dragged his shirt off next, revealing the full glory of his burly torso. Hairy chest, soft belly with a deep navel, strong arms, and the faint scars of old work injuries. I left him naked on the recliner, legs spread wide, that hairy ass exposed.

I poured the last of the oil straight onto his crack, watching it drip and shimmer over his hole. Then I climbed up, oiled body sliding against his like warm silk. I started feet-first because I wanted to feel every inch of him swallow me from the inside out. I pressed my toes against his pucker. It was tight at first, but the oil did its job; his ring stretched with a wet, obscene pop as my feet sank inside. The heat was immediate. Hot, velvety guts gripping me like a living glove. I groaned low, pushing deeper, my calves sliding in with a long, slow squelch. Frank’s belly bulged outward as my legs filled his intestines, the outline of my feet and shins visible under his skin like some obscene puppet.

“Oh fuck… yes…” I whispered, voice shaking with lust.

I kept going, inch by filthy inch. My thick thighs disappeared into him, stretching his hole impossibly wide, the golden oil mixing with the natural slick of his body until everything was a glistening mess. His cock twitched and started to harden against my oiled belly as I fed more of myself inside. When my hips reached his entrance I paused, grinding my fat, dripping cock against his taint for a moment, then shoved. My entire groin slid in with a wet, vulgar slurp, my balls popping through his ring one after the other. I could feel his prostate kissing the underside of my shaft as I kept pushing, my own heavy belly now compressing and sliding into his colon. The stretch was obscene, his abs distended grotesquely around the shape of my softer gut, then smoothed out as I settled deeper.

My chest went in next, nipples dragging along his inner walls, sending sparks through both of us. I had to tilt my head back, arms raised, as my shoulders popped through that ruined hole. The pressure was insane! Every muscle, every rib, every heartbeat of his body squeezing and massaging me like a second, hotter skin. I felt his lungs expand around my own chest, his heart thundering against my back. Finally my head , face-first into the slick heat. The world went dark and wet and perfect as his hole closed around my scalp with a final, lewd pop.

Then came the settling.

I flexed inside him, and his body answered like it was mine. My mind stayed completely me, but the flesh I wore was all Frank. I opened his eyes. Looked down at his thick, hairy chest rising and falling with my breath. Ran his big, calloused hands over his belly—my belly now—and felt the weight of it, the way it spilled just right. His cock—my cock—was rock-hard, veins pulsing, a fat bead of pre dripping from the slit. I squeezed it and groaned in his deep, gravelly voice. “Holy shit…”

I stood up slowly, feeling the new power in these legs, the way his heavy balls swung between my thighs, the way his ass, still slick with leftover oil and my own residue, clenched around nothing. I was taller, broader, stronger. The contrast made my stolen cock throb: my soft, chubby self now wrapped inside this burly, bearded, belly-heavy man.

I padded naked through his house, the floorboards creaking under his heavier weight, and climbed the stairs. His teenage son, Jake, was out for the weekend at a wrestling tournament, thank fuck, so the house was mine. I pushed open the door to Jake’s room and the smell of teenage sweat hit me. There, draped over the back of a chair, was the light grey wrestling singlet. I picked it up, feeling the slick, stretchy fabric between Frank’s thick fingers. My new cock jumped.

I stepped into it slowly, savoring every second. The spandex stretched obscenely over my new thighs, hugging the thick muscle and the soft give of the belly. I pulled it up over my hips, and the pouch cradled my heavy balls and throbbing cock like a second skin, the material already darkening where pre leaked through. The straps went over my broad shoulders, digging in just enough to make the chest hair puff out around them. The singlet was tight, designed for a lean eighteen-year-old wrestler, but on Frank’s burly frame it looked obscene: the fabric strained across my gut, outlining every roll, the leg holes riding high and framing the thick bulge and the curve of my ass. I turned in the mirror, admiring the way the singlet gleamed under the lamp, shiny with the faint residue of oil and sweat already seeping through.

I couldn’t wait.

I wrapped Frank’s big hand around the spandex-covered cock and started stroking, long, slow, filthy pulls. The material made wet, sticky sounds as it slid over the leaking head. I watched in the mirror: this burly, bearded dad in his son’s wrestling gear, belly pushing the fabric out, nipples hard against the straps. I imagined Jake’s teammates seeing me like this and the thought made me growl in Frank’s voice.

“Fuck… look at me… wearing your boy’s singlet while I wear you…” I pumped faster, hips rolling, the spandex creaking. My balls drew up tight. I came with a roar, thick, ropey spurts jetting straight into the pouch, soaking the dark blue fabric until it turned glossy and wet. I kept stroking through it, smearing the hot cum all over my stolen belly, across my chest, down my thighs, using it like extra lube so the singlet clung even tighter, translucent in places, reeking of Frank’s musk mixed with fresh seed.

I was panting, grinning behind the beard, when I finally stepped out of the room and headed to Frank’s closet. I rummaged until I found what I wanted: a tight black button-up shirt that would strain over the cum-stained singlet, and a pair of dark jeans that hugged the thick thighs and the still-leaking bulge. I left the top two buttons open so the hairy chest and the faint hint of the singlet underneath peeked through. No underwear, just the filthy, cum-smeared wrestling gear underneath everything, rubbing against me with every step.

I looked in the full-length mirror one last time: Frank Harlan, burly, bearded, belly-heavy, dressed like he was heading out for a beer—but underneath it all, his teenage son’s wrestling singlet was soaked with my load, and the man inside him, already planning who I was going to hit on at the bar downtown.

I grabbed Frank’s keys, felt the heavy swing of his cock against the cum-slick spandex, and stepped out into the night.

The real fun was just beginning.

[beardysuits]

Oiled Up: Daryl - Into the Fold

Part two of Daryl's story. Part one found here

I stepped into The Rusty Nail just after ten, the bar’s low lights wrapping around me like an old friend. Frank’s body moved with that easy, heavy confidence I was still getting used to. Broad shoulders rolling, belly leading the way, thick thighs rubbing together in the tight jeans. Underneath it all, the cum-soaked wrestling singlet clung to my stolen skin like a filthy secret, the spandex still tacky and warm from my load, every step making it squelch softly against my heavy balls and the thick shaft that kept half-hard just from the constant rub. The place was half-full, mostly blue-collar guys nursing pitchers after long shifts. I scanned the room and my new heart stuttered when I spotted him. Thomas. An old coworker of mine who left our job about 5 months ago.

He was even bigger than I remembered: 350lbs of soft, lonely fat, pale skin stretched tight over a massive gut that rested on his thighs, heavy tits straining the front of a faded black hoodie, thick thighs spilling over the barstool, and a round, bearded face that looked equal parts tired and hopeful under the neon glow. His eyes were downcast, swishing a cheap whiskey, one meaty hand wrapped around the glass like it was the only thing keeping him company. Perfect. I sauntered over, letting Frank’s deep voice rumble out low and friendly.

“Hey there, big guy. That seat taken?” Thomas looked up, startled, then did a slow double take at the burly, bearded construction body I was wearing. His cheeks flushed under the beard.

“Uh… no, man. All yours.” I slid onto the stool beside him, Frank’s belly brushing the bar edge, and ordered two beers. We started easy; small talk about the game on the TV, the weather, how the city was going to shit. But I could feel his eyes on me, flicking over my chest hair peeking from the open buttons, the way the black shirt stretched across my shoulders, the faint blue outline of the singlet underneath when I shifted. I let my knee press against his thick thigh under the bar, casual at first, then deliberate.

“You look like you could use some real company tonight,” I said, voice dropping to Frank’s gravelly register. “Not just the cheap stuff in that glass.” Thomas laughed, nervous, but his eyes lit up.

“Yeah? You offering, stranger?” I leaned in closer, letting him smell Frank’s natural musk mixed with the faint, sweet scent of leftover oil and dried cum seeping through the singlet.

“Name’s Frank. Live a couple blocks over. But… I ain’t exactly who you think I am.” His brow furrowed. I grinned behind the beard and dropped my voice even lower, letting a hint of my own familiar cadence bleed through, the one he’d recognize. “It’s me, Tommy. Daryl, from Curt & Russel.” His eyes went wide. The whiskey glass nearly slipped from his fingers.

“No fucking way…”I reached over, placed Frank’s big, calloused hand on his knee, and squeezed.

“Way. Found something real. Magic oil. Poured it all over my soft ass last night, slid head-first into my neighbor’s hole while he was out cold. Now I’m him. Every inch. Feel this?” I guided his hand under the table, letting him palm the thick, half-hard bulge straining the jeans—and the unmistakable slick, spandex-covered shape beneath. “That’s his cock. My cock now. And under the clothes? His kid’s wrestling singlet. Soaked in my load. Still warm.” Thomas’s breath hitched, his massive chest rising fast. I could see the front of his hoodie tenting already.

“Jesus Christ, Daryl… you actually did it. You’re… you’re wearing him like a fucking suit.” I nodded, slow and filthy, letting Frank’s beard brush his ear as I whispered every detail. Thomas was panting by the time I finished, his free hand discreetly adjusting the massive hard on trapped under his gut. Then the idea hit me. I pulled back just enough to look him dead in the eye, my stolen cock twitching at the thought.

“You’re still lonely, aren’t you? Wishing you could wear something young and tight and strong instead of… this.” I let my eyes drag over his huge, soft body with zero shame. I loved every pound of it, and I knew he did too in that twisted way we both got off on. Thomas swallowed hard.

“Every damn night.”I squeezed his knee again.

“I can help. Frank’s got a son. Jake. Eighteen. Lean, muscular wrestler. Comes back from a tournament tomorrow night. Tight ass, strong legs, smooth chest, cock that’s probably never been properly used. You slide into him the same way I did. Live in that jock. I’ll hold him down for you. We’ll make it slow. Filthy. You’ll feel every inch of his guts hugging you like a glove while I watch.”

His eyes were glassy with lust. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious. I’ve still got the oil at Frank’s place. Brewed a fresh batch this morning just in case. He walks in the door tired from the meet, I offer him a ‘welcome home’ beer, same knockout stuff I used on his dad. You wait in the basement, oiled and ready. When he’s out, I strip him, lube his hole, you slide in. Then we both walk around in our new skins.”

Thomas was breathing like he’d run a mile. “Fuck… yes. God, yes. I want it. I want to feel what it’s like to be… tight. Strong. To have a body that turns heads instead of getting pitied.”

We spent the next hour at the bar hammering out the plan in hushed, dirty detail. I described Jake to him, 5'10, 185lbs of pure lean muscle, short brown hair, smooth skin, an ass like two firm melons from all the squats, a cock that I’d seen once by accident in the backyard (thick, cut, swinging heavy even soft). We decided I’d text him the second Jake pulled into the driveway. By the time we left the bar, my new cock was aching and Thomas was walking funny from how hard he was. I clapped him on his massive shoulder with Frank’s strong hand.

“Tomorrow night, Tommy. You’re gonna be so fucking beautiful inside that boy.” He grinned, shaky and hungry. I went home and jerked off twice more in the singlet just thinking about it, then crashed in Frank’s big bed, belly rising and falling under the sheets, already imagining the sounds Thomas would make when he finally got to stretch and fill and settle.

The next evening came slowly.Jake’s truck rumbled into the driveway right on schedule, just after eight. I was waiting on the porch in Frank’s body, a cold beer already in each hand.

“Hey, champ! Tough weekend?” He looked beat. Hair messy, duffel bag slung over one broad shoulder, wrestling hoodie clinging to his lean torso, gym shorts showing off those powerful legs.

“Yeah, Dad. Took second in my weight class, though. You shoulda seen the final match.”

I pulled him into a big, burly hug, letting him feel the solid weight of his father’s chest against him.

“Proud of you. Come on in, I decided you're ready for your first beer with your old man."

"For real?" Jasked, almost suspiciously. But he was too young and eager to get a drink to object. Jake took the beer, and chugged half of it in the kitchen while I made small talk about the tournament. The knockout powder worked fast on his young system. By the time we hit the living room he was swaying, eyes glassy.

“Dad… feel weird…”I caught him as his knees buckled, easing that tight wrestler body down onto the couch.

“Easy, son. Just relax.” Thomas was already coming up from the basement, completely naked, his enormous fat body glistening head-to-toe in thick golden oil. He looked obscene and gorgeous. Huge belly swaying, heavy tits bouncing, thick cock jutting out like a beer can, dripping pre and oil in long strings. His eyes locked on Jake’s unconscious form and he let out a low, needy groan.I stripped Jake fast, revealing the smooth, muscled eighteen-year-old underneath. Tight abs, hairless chest, a soft but thick cock nestled against heavy balls, and that perfect, pink hole winking between two firm glutes. I poured the rest of the oil straight down his crack, rubbing it in with Frank’s thick fingers until everything shone. Then I grabbed Jake’s wrists, pinning them above his head with one strong hand while I used my knee to spread his legs wide.

“He’s all yours, Tommy. Take your time. I want to watch every inch disappear into my boy.”

Thomas knelt between those spread thighs, oil-slick body trembling with anticipation. He pressed the fat, leaking head of his cock against Jake’s oiled hole and pushed. The stretch was immediate and filthy. Jake’s ring bloomed open around the massive girth, a long, wet squelch echoing as the first three inches sank inside. Thomas moaned loud, his huge belly resting on the boy’s abs as he fed more of himself in.

“Oh my god… so tight…” I watched, cock throbbing in my jeans, as Thomas’s thick shaft disappeared inch by slow, bulging inch. The outline of his cock was visible under Jake’s smooth skin, sliding deeper, pressing against the boy’s prostate until Jake’s soft dick twitched and started to harden against his own belly. Thomas kept going, his heavy balls popping through the stretched ring one after the other with wet, vulgar pops. Then his hips—his fat, soft ass—followed, the boy’s hole gaping and fluttering around the invasion until Thomas’s massive gut started to compress and slide inside.The bulge was grotesque and beautiful: Jake’s lean abs distending outward around Thomas’s enormous belly, the shape of it pushing up under the skin before smoothing out as more of the fat man fed in. Thomas’s heavy tits dragged along the boy’s chest as he sank deeper, nipples hard, breath coming in ragged gasps. I held Jake down tighter, feeling the boy’s body twitch and clench around my friend’s slow, relentless takeover.

“Fuck, Daryl… he’s swallowing me… every heavy inch…” Thomas groaned in that familiar voice, now raw with lust. His shoulders popped through next, stretching Jake’s hole to its absolute limit, golden oil and pre and ass-juice slicking everything in a shiny mess. Finally his head, eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy as the last of him slid home with a long, sucking slurp. All that remained were Tommy's legs as they got greedily slurped up.Jake’s hole closed tight around nothing, pink and glistening. It was like Jake was pregnant, a rotund figure squirming in his stomach, slowly spreading out across the remainder of his body.

I could make out the outlines of Tommy's arms as they fumbled aroudn in the darkness, finally finding their way into Jake's and taking place. His legs did the same, as he was putting on Jake like a pair of pants. Jake's stomach began to deflate as Tommy settled in. I could even see his pathetic little cock trying to find its way into its new shaft. I rubbed it a bit, making Thomas squirm, before helping guide his balls and cock into place. Jake's grew to its full 6 inches, red and glistening as they locked into place. Finally I could see Thomas's head pushing through Jake's neck, a bulbous figure which finally found its way to Jake's scalp.

Thomas flexed inside the new skin, and Jake’s body answered perfectly. The boy’s eyes opened, now burning with Thomas’s hungry gaze. He looked down at the lean, muscled chest, ran smooth, strong hands over tight abs, squeezed the thick, hard cock that was now his. “Holy… shit…” It was Jake’s voice, but the words, the groan, the filthy little laugh—that was all Thomas. “I’m him. I’m Jake!”

I released the wrists, grinning behind Frank’s beard as the new Jake sat up, flexing those wrestler arms, admiring the way the young body moved—light, powerful, every muscle responding instantly. The contrast was insane: my burly, belly-heavy Frank suit next to this tight, smooth eighteen-year-old skin suit that used to belong to my “son.” Thomas-in-Jake stood up on shaky new legs, cock still leaking, and pulled meinto a deep, hungry kiss. “Thank you,” he whispered against my beard, voice cracking with the boy’s timbre. “Now what.... dad?”I squeezed his firm ass with one big hand, feeling the oil-slick residue still inside. “Now we go upstairs. You put on that fresh singlet I saw in his room. We both get dressed like nothing happened. And then… we hit the town".

[beardysuits]

Closer to Dad pt 2

Part 1 found here

I can’t believe it, I’m uncle Rob! I was still getting used to being a solid 50 pounds heavier, probably even more to be honest. When I dressed up as Rob, I had chosen one of his older football jerseys to feel his stomach pressed against his beefy belly. Each step I took I could feel the fabric stretch to accommodate my new form. I patted it, feeling the jiggle ripple through the rest of my abdomen. This was going to be a fun day.

Normally it would have taken me about 15 minutes to get from Rob’s house back to mine, but with my new longer legs, and the amount of excitement built in, I made it in half the time. Stepping up to the front door, my heart was racing in anticipation. I haven’t spent real quality time with my dad in what felt likes years. To go from being the scrawny son he essentially ignored, to becoming his best friend and brother, was a dramatic shift. However, I let out a long breath of air and pounded on the door with my strong fist. 

Dad, I guess I should refer to him by his first name now, Mike, opened the door and looked at me inquisitively. He wasn’t even wearing his usual jersey, just a green t shirt and jeans, his hair messy, with the locks shining in the golden sunlight. 

“Rob? What are you doing knocking on the door? You haven’t done anything but stroll in like a bastard for years”. Shit, of course I should have just walked in. Rob’s been coming over to our place for years now to hang out with my dad. I chuckled to try and cover.

“What and not take you up on opening the door for me? Fat chance,” I told him with my best uncle Rob impersonation. He rolled his eyes and ushered me in. I think I can still play this off. Coming into my home as Rob made it feel like a brand new experience, like I was stepping foot for the first time. Though that may just be because I’m about a foot taller and my perception has greatly shifted at this new height. 

“You want a beer?” Mike asked, closing the door behind me. 

“It can’t even be 8 am,” I told him without a second thought. His eyebrow raised again. 

“What took you so long to ask?” I asked him back. He scoffed and wandered off to the kitchen. My heart would not slow down. I can make a couple of recoveries, but what am I supposed to do when he actually starts talking about football? Mike came back, and tossed me an unopened can. I popped the tab and took a swing, almost spitting it right back out. Fuck me, that’s what beer tastes like? At the tender age of 20, I was just shy of getting myself any alcohol of my own. Though also, at the tender heart, I was too chicken to sneak one of my dad’s to try before today. 

Thankfully Mike had his back turned to me, otherwise he surely would have seen me grimace from the taste. 

“So, game’s not for another hour,” he said, coming back from the kitchen again, this time holding the entire box full of beers. Oh god do I have to drink all of those? I can’t even stomach one. 

“How about you make your lazy ass of some use and help me stock the fridge? Especially since you didn’t bring any of your own,” he continued. Was I supposed to bring something? I’m clearly an awful guest. I followed him downstairs to his man cave, one which I rarely stepped foot in. 

It was what one would expect of a middle aged man who was obsessed with football. A once plush couch now worn out from years of ass being met with it, a small beer fridge along the side, massive flat screen tv along the back wall. If you pick up a copy of “Man Caves for Dummies”, you’d find this on chapter one. Mike shoved the box of beers at me and I waddled off to the fridge to stock up. Not like there was much space anyways, he always kept it pretty filled. 

As I was finishing up the bottom level of the fridge, I felt a hard smack against my ass, almost causing me to shove my whole head into the fridge. 

“Hurry up slowpoke, I wanna get these chilled before the game starts,” Mike said, pulling another beer out of the top shelf. He already finished the first one? I was too distracted to even drink mine, now so aroused at my ass getting smacked, and being ordered around by my dad. Don’t get me wrong, I was used to him ordering me around before, but this time it was playful. It didn’t help that my new cock was pressed against the silky material of my jockstrap, hidden under Rob’s set of Wranglers. I was chubbed up since I came in his body earlier today, but the touch of Mike, and the material sliding against it, made me rock hard. 

I adjusted my pants to help try and mitigate how much of my cock showed and closed the fridge door behind me. 

“Just giving you time to remember how I got the good ass genes from dad,” I told him. I turned and shook my ass at him, smacking it myself. Fuck Rob’s butt really kept up some perk since his old military days. 

“Please, the only thing you got from dad was a bad back and a receding hairline,” he said, chuckling to himself. He took a swig out of his beer and I decided to mirror him. This time, I knew what to expect and choked down the ale with less effort. This actually wasn’t too bad after a while. He reclined back on the couch and kicked his feet up on the corner L of the sofa. He was wearing his basketball shorts and his calves were showing. I never looked at my father in a suggestive way from the implication alone, but I wasn’t me right now. Even as his brother it felt like I was somebody entirely different. 

I could admire how strong his legs looked, especially when he stretched one of them out to pop his knee. The shorts rode up and a brief glimpse of his thigh bared itself to me. This didn’t help my need to hide my raging boner at all. He turned his attention from the TV and looked at me. 

“What are you waiting for? Permission?” He asked. I sat on the opposite end of the couch from him. We had an hour until the game, and I immensely regretted not doing more research before I took over Rob. Mike tried to engage with me about the team, sports, players, and I did my best to rebut against them with jokes and more general comments. He definitely knew something was up though. I drank through the whole thing, feeling my new belly slosh as it contained nothing but beer. The jersey I was wearing started to feel even tighter as I felt my stomach expand to accommodate. 

“Jeez Rob are you okay?” He asked me, minutes before the game began. My consciousness was starting to fade some, the alcohol finally starting to kick in. I had to have been 6 beers in by this point, only taking so long due to Rob’s large build. 

“What do you mean?” I asked him, blinking slowly to orient myself. He finished his last bit of his drink and threw it into the closest trash can. 

“You aren’t yourself. No idea what I’m talking about, stumbling through any conversation, it’s like I’m talking to…” he shrugged, “well, Timmy”. That made me snap into focus. The original plan when I took over Rob was to talk to my dad about anything but football, and hopefully, make him actually like the real me. 

“What about Tim?” I asked him. He cracked open a new beer. 

“Well you know, he’s a good kid, but I just don’t get him. Always up in his room all day, toying around with those little figures of his.” My figures I paint as a hobby. Something about bringing those little guys to life brought me a lot of calm. I didn’t even think my dad knew they existed.

“Have you tried connecting with him about what he likes?” I asked him. I knew the answer, but wanted to hear him admit it. 

“Yeah,” he said. Liar. “I mean, kind of. I just don’t get it. You known when we were growing up we were outside, running around the woods, getting dirty. Tim he just, I don’t know, is just a shut in. We didn’t grow up like that, he actually did things. Like when we kidnapped the Connors’ dog and posted a ransom to buy snacks in the summer. I mean you know, we did a LOT together. Tried new things, grew closer. He doesn’t do anything, just toys away and plays on that damn computer”. 

Ouch. Can’t say I’m surprised though, it’s about what I expected him to feel. 

“But I wanna connect with him, you know. I want to be his dad, not just his father. I taught him to ride a bike, hit a baseball, how football works. Then he became a teenager and just dropped all of it and became a different kid.” I was about to open another beer, but wanted to be as much of myself as possible. 

“You know Mike, I think he may have always been like this,” I told him. He raised an eyebrow in response. “I think, he just wanted to be the person you wanted him to be so you’d love him. But, he found out that he wasn’t happy doing those things, so he just decided to be himself, and hope you’d love him anyway.” 

Mike was silent for a long time, not even taking another drink. 

“That is, at least my theory,” I said. He shrugged and pondered. 

“I mean I do love him, no matter what he does,” he finally said. “He’s my son. He can be a pro athlete or build and sell a computer for a living. I just figured since we had so much fun together and have great memories, that’s how he should do it too. But, maybe I should try and see how we can do what he likes more.”

I could feel the tears well in my eyes. Fuck Dad, why couldn’t you just tell me that. 

“Thanks Rob for just letting me- are you crying?” He asked. I wiped the tears away and hid my face from him.

“No no, just, fuck it,” I said, looking for a new beer. 

“You fucking softie,” he said, a hearty laugh escaping him. “Here, for you listening to my bitching.” He leaned over the armrest of the sofa for a little while and finally pulled out a new can. He tossed it to me. Raising his own, he opened the tab. I did the same, only to be met with a flare of foam dousing me. He cackled and slapped his knee. 

“Fucker!” I yelled at him, already becoming inhibited from all the drinks. “Gotta change this fucking shirt now,” I told him. I could feel the words slurring as the alcohol came on harder. I stood up, stepping back to try and regain my balance. I grabbed the bottom of my jersey with both hands and yanked it up, my head stuck in the hole before finally tugging it off and slamming it to he ground. 

I looked down, once again admiring Rob’s hairy chest and beautiful pecs. The years of service he did performed wonders on his body, which he didn’t give up on as he reached middle age. 

“Give me a shirt,” I told him, trying to make it to the staircase. 

“Rob fucking sit down, you’re fine,” he called out to me. “Let that shit dry and just be half naked for a bit you puss.” I walked back and fell back on the sofa. My cheeks were flaring up and I could feel my heart pounding from the exertion. I put my hand on my chest to feel the heart rate, and couldn’t help but squeeze a little, feeling the pec succumb to my own touch. I chuckled and looked over to my father, who was looking at me intently. I chuckled to him.

“What?” I asked, losing sight in trying to pretend to be Rob at this point. He smirked. 

“Nothing, just, all this talk about our childhoods is making me just remember the good old times. You know know, the Connors dog, the woods, the…. late night talks. Ones about girls, and who was hot in my grade, who was hot in yours. How we’d-“ he pulled his own shirt off and threw it on top of mine. “Try to figure out what would make them feel good”. 

I admired Mike’s body, not as toned as mine, but certainly he took care of himself as he aged. He own chest displayed a gorgeous set of fur. How did I miss out on just how beautiful he was? How did I not get these genes and looked more like my mother? How is he looking at me so… sexually? He slid down the L of the sofa, laying his head against the back cushion, throwing an arm behind his head to rest it. His armpit was shadowed in a dark bush, which I can only imagine smelled of a strong musk. 

Wait what the fuck? This is my dad, or my brother? He’s family, but I did jerk off my own uncle just hours before. He’s my dad, but he’s also not making this weird. He’s.. he’s.. fuck he’s sexy! 

“Game’s about to start,” I told him finally, not taking my eyes off his physique. 

“They’re playing the Buccaneers, I know how it’ll go,” he said. He got on all fours and crawled to me. Judging from the look in his eyes, the beers had taken their toll on him as well. We were now face to face, mere inches from one another. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he leaned in and planted his lips on mine. I pushed back a bit, but he wouldn’t let me break away. His tongue slithered forward and traced it along my new one. I gave in and wrestled his with my own, my lips moving in sync with his. He placed a hand on my chest and squeezed at my pec, the warm touch juxtaposing with the shivers which shot through me. 

I took my hand and placed it on the back of his head, brushing my fingers through his salt and pepper hair. As I gripped at it, he became more aggressive and reached for my throat. He wasn’t rough with it, but placed his thumb just below my Adams apple, pressing firmly. My breath was ragged from his force, and my pants had grown so incredibly tight in futile attempts to restrain my cock. My other hand went on the lower end of his back, guiding him to press into me, the fur on our chests entangling. 

He slipped his mouth away from my lips, running them down my neck, kissing me as he lowered himself further down this stolen body. When he got to my belly, he took extra time to take both hands and rub them across it. He worshipped my stomach, kissing at it, gripping, and without a single word, making me know it was his. His hands ran down my stomach to zipper off my hands, toying with it. I spoke back to him with my dick, flexing it to tell him it needed to be released. 

He looked up at me and smirked, lowering his head down again to lick at my bulge. It was torture, I needed to produce it to him and have it slide down his throat. I reached my hand down to get to my pants, but he immediately snapped and grasped my wrists. 

“Uh uh,” he hushed. “Remember, I’m making you the girl here. And a good girl, lets the man do what he wants.” He released my wrists and finally got his hands back on my zipper. He zipped it down, before finally finishing with a flourish and pulling the Wranglers down to my ankles. He worked to get them kicked off my feet, before being met a silky pink jockstrap, which could snap at a moments notice. It was absolutely soaked in precum, and my dick had pushed it to its limits. 

“What the fuck Rob? You sporting these now?” He asked me. I smirked at him. 

“Was just remembering the good times,” I told him with a wink. He seemed to hesitate, almost snapping back to reality. However, the lust must have taken over, as he proceeded to take his tongue and lick up the precum which topped off the jock. Just feeling the tip of his tongue hit my cock made me groan involuntarily. 

“Shut up, Tim might be home,” he told me. I wouldn’t worry about that, I wanted to tell him, but no words could form at this point. He proceeded to lap at my bulge, seeming to suck off any of the pre which had accumulated. Just as it seemed he was about to pull my jock off, he backed away. Fuck, was something wrong? I looked up and saw him working on getting his own pants off. He was struggling, barely able to move at all. 

I assisted him, leaning forward and not taking the same slow care he had given me. I yanked the pants off and discovered two thing about my dad. One, he liked to go commando. Two, he had an impressive cock. Veiny, hard as a rock, and long enough that I knew he could rub out a prostate without even going halfway in. If he was the surprisingly soft and sultry type, I was the ravenous one. I had never actually sucked a dick before, but had watched plenty of films to emulate what others had done. I gripped the base of his shaft, which despite how large my new hands were, still was an intimidating beast. 

I licked at the head of his cock, tasing the musky aroma come to life as the sensation of manhood trickled down my throat. He tasted amazing, his own precum starting to mix with the sweat he had built through the day. I licked my lips, lubing them up as I began to take his entire cock into my mouth. The years of study had prepared me somewhat for what it took to take him, but practice made perfect. At first I almost gagged and vomited the half dozen beers which still waved in my stomach, but as I got into a rhythm, it became easier. He leaned his head back and didn’t say a word, but moans were suppressed from his closed mouth. 

He raised both arms up, showing off his pits. The smell permeated through the air, filling my nostrils. He must have not showered in the past couple of days, as I could smell the usual scent of my father embody the room. It motivated me to work harder, pushing my lips to the base of his balls and holding them in place. He grabbed the sides of my head and thrust his cock back and forth, skull fucking me as a growls began to erupt from him. 

I thought he was about to coat my throat with his cum, but just as he was about to finish, he threw my head back and pushed me to the other side of the sofa. I looked up to find him jerking himself off and staring at me seductively. 

“Turn around and show your big brother that hole of yours,” he commanded, sitting up on his knees. I did as he was told, getting on all fours and facing away from him. I felt the couch move below him as he crawled to me. He spit, and the sensation of his saliva against my hole made me shake. With one hand, he spread my ass cheek to the side, and with the other, I felt him guide the tip of his cock. Pressing against my hole, I gripped at the fabric in the couch, my knuckles turning white. 

“Easy,” he told me. “Remember, just like we used to practice.” He pushed the tip and my hole reluctantly allowed him in. It was a shock of pain which made me scream. His hand quickly shot to my mouth and covered it, muffling my howls.

“I told you to shut up,” He said. He kept pushing his cock further in, still holding my mouth closed. He inch which slid its way in made me try to yell louder in and louder, but his calloused hand pressed harder against my lips. There was a sensation, a pop. Immediately I stopped yelling and groaned again, this time in ecstasy. 

“There you go lil bro,” he told me. “Just like riding a bike”. He pulled out some and pushed his way back in. Fuuuuuuck. Fuck he was so god damn big! He pumped, his cock rubbing against my prostate. Each thrust sent electricity coursing through my body and out the tip of my cock. I hadn’t touched it in ages and wanted to pump in unison with him, but too much of me was just holding on to the couch for dear life. His thrust began to increase in speed, with no room in between for rest. 

“Fuck daddy’s gonna cum!” He yelled out, clearly not worried about the noise anymore. He put a hand on each of my shoulder to steady himself. 

“Cum in me dad, cum in me!” I yelled out, my lips free from his grasp. 

“FUCK!” He yelled out, pushing his balls deep against my bare ass. I felt his cock twitch with his pulse as wave after wave of his cum shot deep into my colon. I counted it out, each pulse getting weaker and weaker, before finally all I could feel was my dad’s stomach resting on my back as he caught his breath. He slid out and fell back on the couch, his legs spread, and while now limp, he cock rested beautifully on his thigh. 

I laid on my own back and marveled at him, so gorgeous even just lit by the TV glow. For a second I was worried in his post nut clarity, he would realize what had happened. Instead, I could hear him snoring, somehow already passed out from the exertion. I took the opportunity to finally whip off the jock strap and pump my cock, which had been lathered up in a concoction of my precum and dad’s saliva. 

I felt his cum begin to leak out of my hole, running into the couch. I grabbed a small handful and rubbed it between my fingers. It was thick and a stark white, prime for breeding. Prime for lathering up my cock further and… lathering… That, gave me an idea. Releasing my cock, I stepped to my pants he had discarded on the floor. I fumbled with the pockets until I found it, another vial. 

Inside was the lotion I had made to slip myself into Rob. I was worried it would wear off while I was here, making me be ejected. So, I brought an extra container in case I had to sip back inside. But, what if I went a step further? Both of us were already naked, so I took the opportunity to pour the contents all over Rob’s body, just as I had done in my real body. 

It was a miracle there was enough, as Rob was twice the size as my original body. However, I finally stood in front of my father, silk, lathered up, and ready to experiment. I was just as careful as I was when I took over Rob’s body. Fingering my dad’s hole and enlarging it. Making it able to take one finger, then two, three, until finally my whole hand was inside of him. I think all of the drinking had sedated him, as he wasn’t moving a muscle from all of the activity. 

I pushed further, finding the process to be much more difficult than last time. Previously, I was going from a short, lanky form, barely 150 pounds into a man twice my size. This time, while my father was hardly a small man, had less room available to take in Rob’s body. I worked carefully, pushing both arms inside, before taking a deep breath and plunging my head inside. This sensation was the same at least. Pitch darkness, a tight sensation, the beating of his heart echoing around me. The issue was, Rob’s chest was so fucking massive, I had to really push to get inside. 

I could still feel my feet outside, so I used them to prop myself up and force myself in further. I could only imagine what it looked like out there. The towering form of Rob, chest deep inside of my dad’s hole as he tried to slam his entire body into him. However, with each thrust, I could feel my body being encapsulated by my father. Eventually I found my whole upper body inside, and I worked to stretch myself out. It was like I was trying to slide into a latex suit that was two sizes too small. Every crevice of mine was suppressed and pushed inward. 

It was constricting, my father’s form could barely contain the man who had at least 40 pounds of muscle on him. But surely, I found a way to get both legs inside and curl my feet in too. I felt the hole close and Rob’s body completely be closed in. Having done this once already, I had an idea of what to do next, but the size difference made it all too difficult. I did learn however from last time to adjust my cock first and not cause a panic. With both arms still not in position with my dad’s, I took my cock and slide it into his like a sheath. 

Before I aligned them though, I experimented and pulled back and pushed in again. I did this a few times, feeling like I was fucking the inside of my father. It was too good, but I had to push on, the constriction was getting to me. I aligned both feet and legs, arms, hands, and finally head. I slithered my tongue into my father, and pushed the top of my head into his. With one final force, I pushed my cock into the tip of his and felt the transformation complete.

I opened my eyes and surveyed the room, my head groggy as I felt the alcohol trying to hold me still. The glow of the TV still reflected off the walls, but more noticeable than that was the smell of my father’s musk right next to me. I looked to my left and found his armpit right next to my face. I inhaled deeply, now aware that I was my dad! I liked at his bicep, knowing all the while this tongue just moments ago was worshipping me. I sat up, trying to orientate myself. 

Everything was the exact same, though now I could see just under me was a pool of the lotion and cum which soaked into the seats. I rubbed my dad’s hole, and found that some of his cum was still leaking out from me. I brought it to my face and lapped it up. It was salty, tinged with the potency worthy of breeding. 

I took another scoopful of his, I guess, MY own cum and lathered up my new dick. As I never did actually finish while I was just Rob, I still had a sizable load to get out. I pumped my dad’s cock which had sprung to life once more. I smelled at this pits as I did so, lapping at his biceps and worshipping my new body. 

NSFW version found here

From the excitement of today, it didn’t take long before I could feel the eruption coming. 

“Fuck I”m gonna cum!!” I yelled in my dad’s voice, before finally letting out the build up of cum spray all over me. Despite getting off just earlier today, it was a cascade as I coated chest. The fur absorbing every drop and sinking into my chest. My cock was bright red, pulsing as each drip soared into the air. But it was over all too soon, and I was left with just myself, the smell of cum, musk, and the football announcers quietly speaking. 

I looked down at myself, proud of the mess I had made. Though, I did wonder what this meant. Was I stuck as my father, with Rob gone forever? Would I get ejected as Rob? As myself? The lotion had lasted this long already, I wonder how much longer I had. If it wasn’t long, I wanted to make the most of it. Slowly, I raised myself up and stood, looking to dress myself up. There I found the jockstrap I had Rob wear, still damp. I stepped in and shimmied it up my legs. 

It was cool at this point, and made me shiver, but it was so good to be reunited with it. I rubbed my hands over my body, coaxing the cum further into my hair and admired the nice bulge my dad gave the jockstrap. Maybe if I can keep this up for a bit, I’ll have to have dad pick up some new clothes…Something with leather perhaps. 

--------------------------------

A bit of a longer story, but hopefully that makes you all enjoy it even further! Would love to hear from all of you as to what you'd like to see more of as I try to get back more into my writing.

Thank you all!

[beardysuits]

Another One for the Books

"Mmmm yeah man!" Michael yelled out. He was already balls deep inside and fucking my hole like a piston. I was already trembling at the knees, gripping at the kitchen table, my knuckles turning white as their hold weakened. I had wrapped my hand around my borrowed cock and slid it down the shaft, enveloping it with my palm which was already lubricated in precum.

I'm getting ahead of myself though. See my friend Harry and I had stumbled upon some pretty unique powers one day while perusing the internet. We were two pretty horny, and admittedly broke, college students, who were looking for a cheap way to have some fun. That's when we stumbled upon this new meditation that promised to teach us how to "astral project" our bodies. It was a dull Friday night and we had no plans, so we figured, why not?

At first it felt like we were just falling asleep and I gave up. When I tried to wake him up though, he was out like a rock. No matter how much I shook him, he wasn't moving. I freaked out and since he still lived with his dad, I called out to him. He walked in and I immediately sensed something was off. His dad was looking at his hands and touching his face, then his eyes grew wide as he saw his son out cold.

"Adam?" He asked in his gruff voice.

"Mr. Reynolds, I-I-I... I think something's up with Harry!" I yelled back.

"Yeah, I know," he said before pulling me up and gripping my biceps. "I'm in here," he said, putting his hand to his chest.

I was completely lost before realizing it must have worked! After getting Harry to calm down, we started to play with his dad. It was innocent at first, making him say stupid stuff and Harry goofing around. But after a few beers, we got a lot more handsy, and I found myself pushed under Mr. Reynolds as his belly pressed into his back and his fat cock was opening my hole so fucking wide.

Since then, Harry guided me on how he was able to push out his essence and take over his dad. After a few sessions, I finally managed to do it! We then began our Friday ritual of cruising whatever public spot we liked, finding two guys we both liked and taking them over. Usually Harry took over the older or bigger guy, and I always liked taking over the smaller counterpart. I was pretty overweight, so squeezing myself into a tight little body and feeling myself up was a huge turn on and escape. Harry on the other hand was a 5'5" twig, so taking over a daddy scratched a similar itch for him.

That brings us to Michael and Jax. At least, that's what we called them. We didn't know their real names, didn't really care to. All we knew was they were a father and son we saw this afternoon at the hardware store and they were just another pair of playthings for us. We followed them from the store. The dad, who we coined Michael, drove a huge ram truck. Harry definitely liked doing the backstory more than I did.

To him, Michael was a divorcee who left Jax and his wife when the kid was only 5. They reconnected when Jax hit college and takes him around town to try and bond. Whatever got Harry into the headspace he needed to make me his little bitch, I didn't care. All I wanted was for the two to "bond" like they never did before.

We got back to their place, a small ranch home in the suburbs. Harry drove a van which we could park down the road and start our projection that night from the back compartment. Once night fell, we began.

Astral projection is similar to falling asleep, you just need to keep in mind your spirit and detach it from your physical form. It was easy for us now and soon we were floating above our targets' house. I zoomed into the garage and immediately found Michael lifting weights. He was grunting and his body glistened. I could see the pump in his chest and arms, the veins in his neck bulging as he strained against the rack. I zoomed to the other room and found Harry licking his lips as he watched Jax walk around the kitchen shirtless.

"Your guy's in the garage," I told him. "And I think you'll like what you see." I winked and flexed my arms.

"It's like they knew we were coming," Harry joked, before zipping past me. I turned my attention to Jax and tried to find the best point of entry. Not like I had to look for long though, I could see even through the gym shorts, Jax's bubble ass made peaks against the fabric. In my current form, I could do minor manipulation of physical objects. Such as the box of crackers I saw on top of the fridge.

I pushed them over, making them fall right behind Jax who immediately turned to the sound. He sauntered over and bent down to pick up the box. Perfect! With his ass spread and ready for the taking, I dove in head first.

He immediately shot up and grabbed at his ass, feeling my essence stuffing him.

"What the fuck?!" he yelled out. God, his voice sounded just like every frat bro on campus; it made me drool. I wiggled further in, Jax was unable to stop me. His spirit could fight me, but his body couldn't grasp at anything more than thin air. I slipped inside and situated myself. I had become a pro at this point and slipped what was essentially my limbs into their places. Jax had fallen over and was curled into a ball, trying to concentrate and push me out, but his mind was useless. I shot my head up and took in a sharp breath of air with my new lungs.

My face was parallel to the floor, but pushing myself up with my new beefy arms, I stood up and got used to my new footing. It was also so freeing to feel myself in a smaller and lighter body. It almost felt like I was floating.

"You okay son?" I heard a gruff voice ask behind me. Michael stood behind me, looking concerned, his body shimmering and covered in sweat. I cleared my throat, getting used to my new voice.

"Yeah dad just uh, cramps," I told him. I was almost certain Harry was in there already, but once he finished a takeover, he was in character. He was Michael until he finally ejected himself. Sometimes I wasn't even sure if was in there, which could lead to some potentially terrifying scenarios.

"Okay well, just take it easy," Michael said. He stepped closer. "Listen, I did want to talk to you," he continued. He leaned a hand on the kitchen island and loomed closer.

"Sure Dad, what's up?" I asked him, copying his stance. Our hands were only about a foot apart, our bodies only a step away.

"I know it's been rough trying to reconnect since I came back. You have every right to resent me, but I'm really grateful that you're trying," he said. I shrugged.

"I mean yeah, it's weird," I told him. "But I've really enjoyed getting to know you and get closer. You were gone so long though, it's sometimes like you're not even my dad. Just, some guy I live with now." I tilted his head, his hand moving an inch closer to mine.

"I understand. Is there anything I could do to help make this less awkward for you? Help us get a little closer?" he asked. I moved my fingers closer to his, mere inches separated them.

"Well truthfully, I uhhhh.... kind of like what you've been doing. I mean look at you now. I always walk around without a shirt, but seeing you do the same, makes me feel like we're relating. It's good to see you like, be vulnerable. To see just.. more of you."

He cocked his head to the side.

"Do you want to see more?" he asked. I bit my lower lip and nodded. He lifted his arm up and showed off his hairy pit, the aroma of his musk permeated and trailed into my nostril.

"Do you want to smell more?" he pressed. I nodded again and stepped forward. He cradled the back of my head and guided me to the smell. I inhaled deeply, keeping my tongue in place. That would come with time.

"That's a good boy," he cooed at me. He rubbed the back of my head softly, comforting me as I inhaled more of him. He smelled so fucking good. Fresh from his workout and a whole day of walking around before that. I could smell the faint trace of his cologne as it tickled at me from his neck. He pulled back my head and locked eyes with me.

"Show daddy how much you want him around," he commanded. I was about 5 inches shorter than him. I leaned up and pressed my lips to his. His tongue swirled the inside of my mouth as mine submitted to his. He cradled my lower back in his beefy arms and pressed me tightly into him. I could feel his sweat coating my slim frame. Reaching around, I wrapped my arms behind his back and clawed at his hairy backside.

Pulling me away, he took my hand and lead me to the living room. We simultaneously kicked off our gym shorts, each of our cocks bounced out and bobbed as we walked. I hadn't even seen my new one yet, it was so fucking pretty. Jax kept himself trimmed, but his balls were decorated with blonde hair. To no surprise, Michael's dick was thick like a bull's, matching the rest of his body. Even his ass was framed like grade A beef! I never really took over guys like him, but I sure did love fucking them.

Michael led me to the couch and laid back, lifting his arm over his head. I laid on top, unable to control myself anymore, going to town on his pits. My tongue was lapping up every bead of sweat I could find.

I was so fucking hungry for him! I made Jax swallow piece after piece of his father's sweat. He just chuckled as he felt his good boy enjoying his new treat. I reached down and began to stroke his cock, which had begun to throb. He was leaking, leaving plenty of lubricant as I made Jax wrap his jock hands around his father's shaft.

Michael let out a booming laugh as he watched his son become a little bitch and submit to him.

He patted me on the shoulder.

"That's enough boy, you know what daddy wants now," he told me. I pulled back and nodded.

Walking off, I found the kitchen table and decided to see how flexible Jax was. Placing my right foot up on the table, I kept myself balanced on the ground. It was fucking perfect. I could feel a breeze grace my hole as I presented myself to daddy.

Michael grumbled from behind me, I could hear his heavy footsteps as he walked over to me. I heard the sound of him spitting and lubing up his daddy cock. There was a hand clasped on my shoulder, and then the teasing of a dick as it played with my hole. I was about to turn around and watch when I felt the pressure of Michael's dick pressed against me. I winced, my virgin hole stretching for what I assumed was the first time.

"Goooooood boy," Michael told me. He wrapped his other arm around my chest and pressed slowly into me. I moaned like a bitch, feeling my dad fill me up. Once I felt his thighs against my ass, I knew he was in. That, and the roar which came from Michael, and the throb of his cock against my prostate.

"That's it boy!" He shouted, before pulling out. He kept up a steady pace, the head of his cock pushing further with each thrust.

"Fuck daddy!" I yelled out as I gripped onto the table.

"Mmmm FUCK man!" Michael yelled out, beginning to piston in and out of me. See? Now you're all caught up.

I was pumping my own cock and could feel the pressure build. How was I already so close??

"Dad? I think I'm going to cum!" I yelled out.

"Fucking cum for me son!" he yelled back. It was like his cock was pressing against my stomach he was so deep! I let go of my cock and watched as a fountain of cum spread across the table.

"Here it fucking comes boy!" Michael yelled out. He wrapped both of his beefy arms across my chest and yelled out. I could feel his seed instantly begin to coat my insides, spreading out and dominating me. His sweat formed even further and drenched my back. I could feel his stomach as it pressed into my back with each breath of his.

He slid out of me and staggered back, laughing. I could hear him catching his breath. I took my leg down from the table, shaking as my blood tried to get back in place. I almost fell over put was caught by Michael's arms.

"Easy there boy," he told me, chuckling. I looked up and saw him towering over me. I smiled as he pulled me up.

"Thanks dad," I said, before giving him one final kiss. "We should probably head out." He shrugged and helped me stand fully up.

"Maybe, or we just enjoy ourself a little more," he said. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"How about we run a few more errands? Spend some time with my boy, drive him around in my truck. Maybe play with his ass as we do some shopping?" I was immediately intrigued by the idea, but there was a concern nagging at me.

"What about our real selves?" I asked.

"They'll be fine, they're not going anywhere," he assured me. I knew it was risky, but fuck I loved being Jax and I wanted to keep this up. So, what's the worst that could happen?

Michael was cradling my lower back and holding me close, our new musks mingling with one another. I chuckled and stuck my tongue into his mouth.

"Okay dad, let's do it," I told him. He laughed and hoisted me up effortlessly. My thighs were cradled into his arms as I finally looked down at him.

"Come on son, lemme treat you."

[beardysuits]

Man of the House

Edited once more to comply with Tumblr's guidelines...

He’s such a fucking asshole…

I slammed the door behind me and threw my backpack to the ground, trying to still my breathing and not rage out. 

“Hey! What yourself slamming those god damn doors! I don’t see any checks coming from you to pay for them!” Dad shouted from down the hall. Yeah you barely pay for them you piece of shit. I walked over to my dresser mirror and examined my bruised eye. Rodney, the fucking ape, thought I was staring at his ass in the hall and decided to beat the hell out of me. I mean, I was, I can’t excuse my wandering eye. But an innocent peek is way more excusable than queer bashing. 

I could excuse it to some extent, he’s just some idiot jock. But my dad is who really pissed me off. I had tried to sneak past him to go to my room, but there he was, laying with his third beer on the couch (the other two empty bottles sitting on the floor) and catch me. Called me out for being beaten up for being a fag and told me I had to man up. 

“I’m scared of the day you become the man of your house,” he had said before scoffing. “Or should I say woman?” He laughed to himself before taking another drink of his backwash brew. I had stormed off and here we are. He’s such a prick, using me as a punching bag; both literally and figuratively. Never man enough, never tough enough, never amounting to even his lowest expectations. I was fucking man enough, I would show him. I’d love to walk right up to him and punch him in his smug fucking face. 

I was getting more and more worked up, my breathing escalating before I couldn’t control it anymore. I turned and stormed back out the door to confront him. Swinging open the door, I made my way back to the living room only to stop right in my tracks. He was of course still there, now on his fourth beer, but his hand was stuck in his pants. He looked over at me not surprised or angry, just amused. 

“Oh look who decided to come see his old man? Got another shiner you wanna show off?” He took his hand out of his pants and zipped up. 

“Don’t get turned on by what you just saw. Bad enough you’re queer as a two dollar bill, let alone wanting to fuck your old man.” My anger began to rise again as he sat up and stared at me, fiddling the beer between his fingers. He took another swig and tossed a hand in the air. 

“So you’re queer and mute? Least there’s some kind of improvement,” he said, getting up from the couch and walking past me. He shouldered me, pushing me to the side. 

“Fuck you,” I mumbled, my hands clenched, trembling as my knuckles turned white. I heard him stop shuffling. 

“Oh you got something to say?” He asked. “The only balls I thought you had would be in your mouth.” I spun on the spot, my arm raised and without aim. My knuckles made contact with his jaw and he slumped the ground, crashing as the beer he was holding bounced away. If it weren’t for the alcohol in his system, there’s no way I would have knocked him down. Immediately I began to panic. He was already rough enough with me just because he had a bad day at work, I couldn’t image what he was about to do. 

The only thing was, he wasn’t getting up. I stepped closer and kicked my foot at him. Leaning down, I crept my face closer to his, seeing if he was still breathing. A soft moan escaped from his lips and I could finally see the soft movement in his chest pressed against the floor, signaling a sign of life. Oh thank god…. Getting up, I pushed my foot against his leg, seeing if it would wake him. Nothing. He was out cold. Which… gave me an idea. A sick, but completely worth it idea. Dad wants to make fun of me for being some kind of queer? Let’s see how he likes it. 

I pushed my fingers down the back of his waistband and tugged slightly, gauging how much it would risk waking him. Pulling further, I managed to shimmy both his jeans and briefs down to his knees. His d*ck flopped under him, pressed against the cold wooden floor. God, you would hope for being such an asshole, it would be due to having a small d*ck, but of course he was packing a bull of a jock. He still wasn’t moving, so I fished my phone out of my pocket and took a few pictures of his ass. Which, was surprisingly bubbly for his age. I guess being a washed out high school jock turned construction worker did wonders to the glutes. Now if he gave me any more lip, I was going to share these online and humiliate him. I was about to put my phone away and pull the pants back up when a new idea tugged at my intrigue. Damn, was I really going to do this? I bit my lip, nervous but curious about the idea. 

My hand was shaking as I reached out to his ass. Using my thumb, I pushed one his cheeks to the side to reveal his hole. I snapped another photo and yanked my hand back as he grumbled. Okay, this was way too fucking risky…. But still, what if I went a little further? The coffee table was behind me, I angled my phone against it so you could see me only from my torso down, but his body was in full frame. I hit record and moved closer to him. Spreading open his ass with one hand, I took my index finger and trembled as it approached his hole. 

I brushed the tip of my finger against it, it was oddly smooth and puckered out at me upon contact. He made no noise at all as I did so. I was fueled by intrigue, lust, and stupidity as my finger approached it once more. I prolonged the contact this time, pushing so gently, but assuredly. I was able to penetrate to which I could have sworn I heard the soft sound of air escape his chest. Pushing further, I was able to get to my first knuckle, without so much as a peep from him. It was warm and so tight, his hole wrapped around my finger perfectly, like it was practically begging for more. I obliged and pushed more in until I reached the end of my finger, the tip of which brushed against a lump I could only assume was his prostate. Pulling my finger out, I was relieved to see it come out clean. 

Spitting onto it and my middle fingers, I lathered them up and sat them one on top of the other. I had completely disassociated and went into autopilot. Dad’s hole was begging for me to feed it. I pushed both fingers within ease, perhaps even easier than the first time. I worked them back and forth, pushing against his prostate each time I did so. I saw his pole twitch and begin to slither out as it grew in size. Sweat began to trickle down my back as I worked his hole, stretching him wider and wider. I pull my shirt off, getting way too hot to keep it on. Three fingers, let’s see if he can take three. My ring finger wiggled its way inside, pushing the other two aside to be embraced by the warmth of his entrails. My own pole had begun to press against my pants, begging to be freed from its prison and embrace the moment. With my free hand, I yanked them off, my foot getting caught in the cuff. I was able to free myself and soon I found myself naked in my living room, still finger fucking my deadbeat dad.

Four, no, five. Let’s fucking see if he can take a whole god damn hand! My pinky and thumb didn’t hesitate to stretch him wider. It was odd, almost magical the way he just opened up to me. In only a few minutes, I was able to get all fingers inside with little hesitation from him. His hole was sucking me in, slobbering as it wanted to eat more of me. It was only once my entire hand was inside that I realized that may be meant literally. I could almost feel sucked closer to him. How the fuck was he not waking up?

I looked up to see the back of his head poked out from his wife beater. Fuck, what was I doing? I pulled my hand back, snapping to the reality of the situation. But, it wouldn’t budge! In fact, the very act of trying to free myself only led to me being pulled further in, I was halfway to my elbow! I grabbed my arm with my free hand tried to pull back, but it was no use, I kept going further and further in. I wormed a couple fingers from my right hand to try and stretch him enough to pull myself out, but those got sucked in too! It had managed to encapsulate my free fingers and was taking the rest of the hand with it! I planted my bare feet to the ground and yank, only to lose my footing and fall face forward, up to my elbows inside of him. 

His hole was stretched, but refused to break. I flexed my fingers and could see the back of my hands press from inside of him against his back. It was like they were in a suit of him. 

“Dad! Dad wake up! Help me!” I pleaded, finally more afraid of what was happening to me instead of him finding himself like this. But what was I kidding? If having a full grown human halfway inside of him didn’t wake him up, what good would yelling do? The pull was becoming stronger and sucking me in faster. I was up to my shoulders now and knew what would happen next. But without my arms, I had no balance at all. I kicked my feet and tried to find anything to grip my legs on to, but I was being pulled away too quickly to do anything about it. 

My forehead was pressing against the edge of his ass. I tried to pull my head away, but it was no use. I felt my hair break through as I was pulled in. My chin brushed against his now fully erect manhood as it pulsed with each pull from him. The last thing I saw before being sucked up was his taint as it was stretched nearly to its limit. It was dark in here, the sound of his heartbeat echoed and pounded against my ears. I could feel the cool air still outside from my torso and legs, but all I could focus on was the feeling of being inside of him. I finally had control of my arms again though, but it did little to help my situation. I tried to claw my way out, but it made me almost shoot forward. I felt a lurch as the rest of my body down to my waist was pushed inside. 

It was oddly comfortable in here, like being wrapped in a skin tight blanket. But man that beating was driving me crazy! Fuck it, there’s no way out of this. Maybe… if I went out the other way…? I pushed myself further, feeling my own piece slide inside. Damn… that actually felt really good. Inside of here, it was like it was enclosed in a warm, silky sheath. The body began to feel more enclosed as my thighs were enclosed, but I could feel the hole fighting up again as less and less of me was left to take in. I began to feel somewhat claustrophobic and I fought to get some form of air. Spreading my arms out, I could feel the sides of his body and moved them up until I found two holes. 

Pushing my arms out, they began to slide into new homes, sliding down the caverns until they were met with… were those his fingers? I wiggled my fingers until I could feel them slither into place like his hands were gloves of flesh. I could feel his hole tightening as the last bits of my feet were pushed inside. There was a small pop when the last of my toes made it in. I instinctively kicked my legs around until they found slots of their own to go down. I shimmied them down until I found what I was certain were his feet. It took some wriggling, but soon enough my toes found their way into his. I wiggled them and felt the cool flooring beneath me. It was still pitch black, but I had gotten a sense of what was happening, and there was only one step left. I pushed my head up and felt a strong tight grip around myself. Like… that of his neck pressed against me. I began to struggle to breathe and pushed harder, as if I was trying to break the surface of water while drowning. I felt a snap and my head hit an elastic ceiling. 

My eyes shot open and I gasped for air, catching my breath while taking in my surroundings. I was level to the ground, my vision parallel to the dirty wooden floors of my living room. I looked around and twitched my fingers, feeling them move freely and rapped against the wood. I pushed myself up, noticing the wife beater adorning my chest and… FUCK! I looked down to see a massive boner perched in front of me, thick and glistening with precut. Dad’s… I guess… MY jeans were still hugging my knees and trailing under me. I turned around saw nothing but the sheen of pre and saliva adorning the wooden floor. 

“Holy f*ck…” I said before slapping a hand against my mouth. That was dad’s voice! This… I rubbed my fingers across my chin. This was dad’s beard! Were my suspicions true? I stood up, my new legs wobbling as I adjusted to my new weight. I must have packed on a good fifty pounds and beer gut. 

I found walking too difficult, so I pulled my new briefs up and snapped the band around my waist, my c**k still soaking them. Kicking off my jeans I stumbled to the bathroom and forced open the door. I snapped on the light and looked in the mirror to see my father, his face adorned with shock and awe, a look I had never seen from him. Leaning against the countertop I peered closer, taking it all in. I was him alright, though I could see it was actually my blue eyes and not his brown ones. Aside from that, I was the spitting image of my piece of shit father. Holy shit… I was him! I could feel my c**k twitch against the briefs even more at the idea of impersonating him. 

I almost even reached in and began to pump it but felt like that had to be wrong, right? Maybe I could try force myself out. And then… well I don’t know what. I had no idea what to even do. Did I just lose my own life and become him permanently? Did I lose half my life to just be some old asshole who beats his son. Or, used to? Maybe this was my way of escaping. I had no money, no prospects and at least another year before I could graduate and get myself out of his deadbeat town. What if this was my way out of here and starting fresh? I smiled in the mirror to myself, becoming more okay with this new situation by the minute. 

Okay dad, looks like we’re going to be doing things a little differently around here! Starting it looks like with my new friend… I pulled the band of my underwear down and marveled at my new c**k. I swung my hips and felt it thrust wildly. Lifting my top up, I let it come up and slap me against my new hair stomach, which rippled upon my d*ck’s impact. Oh this was going to be fun. Dad gave off serious top energy and I was going to use that to my advantage… Or maybe I should have somebody show me how it’s done first…? I ran the living room, finally adjusted to my new weight as if I had accrued it myself over the years. I found my phone to see it was still recording. Damn, I’m going to have to watch that crazy video back soon. 

I turned off the recording and repositioned the phone so I could start posing. I did some of the typical poses I had seen guys do online: gripping at my new bulge and winking, lifting both arms up and licking at my pits (damn he really fucking reeked after a day at work!), sticking a tongue out and rolling my finger back, acquisitioning my boy to come here. I even decided to be a little playful and found a random book from school, flipping it to a random page and pretending to read as I spread my legs wide. 

I wanted to save it for whoever I had over here first, but I couldn’t help it. I decided I should record one more photo before publishing myself online. I set up the phone to record ones more and pulled down my briefs. I spit into my hand and lathered up my c**k, sliding my hand up and down the pole, feeling the ecstasy build as I watched my stolen body move under my whim. I kicked a leg up on the sofa and stretch my ass open, exposing my new hole to the lens. Fiddling a finger around, I slid into myself and penetrated. Daaaaamn, so this is what I had done to him? He should be thanking me! This was amazing. I let out a deep growl as I pushed my finger in and pushed against my prostate. A shockwave of pleasure rocketed through me as rubbed the palm of my hand against the head. I slid a second finger in and fucked myself, picking up the pace and dreaming of the first guy who would pump his load inside of me. The thought alone, mixed with the image of my homophobic father getting off to himself sent me over the edge. 

“Fuck, I’m cumming…” I moaned in my dad’s voice, my eyes desperately pleading for release. I looked myself square in the face as I felt the pressure build from my balls and finally pump itself out. FUCK! The streams of c*m rocketed out and sprayed themselves across my black tank, one even finding its way into my new beard. I forced as much c*m as possible out before I ran dry and was breathing as if I had just run a marathon. I looked at the phone, still recording as my father sat upon the sofa, two fingers inside of him and c*m splayed across his chest. I removed my fingers, wincing as my hole had tightened around them. Once they were removed, I sucked on my fingers, letting the little bits of c*m on them trickle down my throat. 

“Mmmm…” I moaned, before winking and turning off the recording. Damn, if that performance wouldn’t get me laid, I had no idea what would!

After I was done, I chose the best photos to accompany my little home movie and made my very own Grindr profile. I was a new daddy in the area looking for somebody big and strong to show me how to take a new man. Which, shouldn’t be too hard for this body. It took an entire human, how bad could one d*ck be? I finally snapped one final photo, a cute little selfie to hopefully draw in some cuties. 

It wasn’t long before I had myself set up and messaged any guy who piqued my interest - and there were a ton of them! Man, I hope I’m not out of this for quite some time! 

——————————————————————————————————

It has been about three months now, I still have no idea how to get out of dad and honestly, that’s fine. Turns out being a construction worker daddy and being a little bottom slut was exactly what every guy in this town needed. Sure, I had topped a few times too, but this body was obviously meant to take rod. The first time as with this guy named Ryder. I was terrified, but man, when I felt his slide into my the first time, I almost came instantly. He was so fucking impressed with how well I took him and he became a regular at the household. He amongst others, found out that my old man was a huge slut and would take load after load from men with no names. 

 However, I made sure to gather as much evidence as my escapades as I could, just in case. I would video and photograph myself with any guy who gave me permission to do so. If dad somehow found a way to get rid of me, I had a whole archive to use against him. I wasn’t too worried about it though, I was perfectly happy with my new life. 

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