Some photos from over the weekend, while I was eating pretty good I was also out and about a lot so I walked a great deal and boy does gaining 100lbs in 9ish months make you feel the difference.
Side note I have to get better at telling people no( being invited placed that I truly have no interest in whatsoever like it wasn’t bad but having 2 days to relax would have been better ) who would have thought my type of feedism also has people pleaser tendencies
A/N: And here we have it. You had to know this one was coming ;) !
Uh oh, that was Hayes’ dad pulling back in the driveway, less than 20 mins after leaving. And Hayes was currently standing in the living room in his dad’s briefs. Nothing had gone to plan. Hayes had seen his dad wearing briefs and wanted to try them on. No one ever talked about men wearing briefs. It was always boxers this, or boxer briefs that. Guys would say, only babies wore tighty-whities. So, it was odd for Hayes to see his dad proudly sport those exact underwear. Hayes got into his head that perhaps, his dad’s underwear were different, maybe that’s why his dad wore them.
So, on a Saturday morning when Hayes’ dad left to pickup breakfast. Hayes was more than eager to try a pair on for himself. He was determined to only try them on for a minute. His dad wouldn’t even know. The moment he got his legs through the holes and pulled up, he blacked out.
When Hayes woke up, he felt heavy. So, God damn heavy and his face itched. He scratched it, only to have his fingers be met with hair along his jaw. That was enough to jolt him awake. He jumped to his feet, half squatted, as if expecting vermin to run by. Two over-ripe pecs jiggled. Perfected muscles, experiencing the shock wave of his reaction. Confused at what he was looking down at, Hayes poked it, seeing and feeling the indentation in the skin, understanding it was his flesh.
Then he noticed the finger and hand that were poking him. Strong, veined, and brawny. The same as his arms. More fit for a construction worker than him. Wiggling them in the air, they looked more like his dad's fingers. His feet came into his view when he looked down and saw their gargantuan size, slammed into the floor. Eyes flowing up, his calves and thighs were loaded like a springboard. Only then did he realize the reason he was low was because he was still squatting. He rose slowly, surpassing his actual face worrying as his head went further into the air. By the time it stopped, Hayes felt like he was on stilts.
He tried to move around, body stumbling. His hips bumped into his dad’s dresser and the whole thing shook. The impact was barely noticeable on his end with his right thigh and glute absorbing the collision. He made his way to the living room, the first mirror he could think of, vertigo threatening to send him back to the ground. When his first footstep thundered into the living room, he spotted his dad standing directly across from him. Hayes made a shocked face that his father copied, before realizing it was his reflection. His face wasn’t his dad’s face at all, but hard to tell with the big bushy blond beard he had.
“Holy fuck!” his hands snapped over his mouth. The words came out on their own and the power behind them was brutal. That was not the voice of Hayes Colt. It wasn’t even his father, Evan Colt’s, voice. A voice as rich and deep as his father’s, but completely new. Hands grasping and pushing softly at his throat, he tried to find the cause as to why. Not knowing 'the culprit' lived much lower. He spun around but stopped when in the mirror spotted how his new tattoo reached to his far back. What had happened? How had he gotten so much older? He looked like a superhero and sounded like one.
The car pulled into the driveway. When he looked through the window, he saw his dad driving up. There was a throbbing in his dad’s briefs as Hayes for the first time since waking acknowledged the large lump, hanging down in them. Ghosting a hand over it, Hayes’ eyes went wide to discover that was indeed his dick. Warm to the touch, large, and growing. His eyes went back to his dad outside, now shutting the door. Hayes cock got larger even faster the longer he stared at his dad. And maybe he should have only worried about how much trouble he was going to be in, but he wasn’t. He was more interested in how exciting his cock was getting the closer his father walked.
A turn of the doorknob and Hayes’ dad stepped in, breakfast bag in hand. His father caught Hayes standing in the living room looking right at him. “Morning babe, got you a breakfast burrito,” He shook the bag then stopped, “Are those my underwear?”
“Yeaaah, I thought they’d look good on me.” Hayes responded and put his hands on his hips.
“They do!” His father replied, nodding, tongue tracing over his lips. “Just don’t give the neighbors a free show.” He nodded at the window. The two made their way into the kitchen where Hayes was sweating bullets that his dad hadn’t punished him yet. He kept waiting and waiting, but his dad never used the disappointed tone. Evan Colt simply unpacked the food he had brought out onto the counter. Hayes’ burrito and a few other food items sat there. As Hayes stepped up to the counter for the burrito, his dad slipped behind him. Something hard poked at his ass, with his father pressing him forward.
“I love that you wore these today, it really got me going.” Then his dad dropped to his knees pulling the back of his own underwear down to expose Hayes' new globes. His father’s mouth, then face, dove into Hayes’ ass and he got eaten out. Hayes had to sit back on his dad’s face not strong enough, even with his new body, to stand up on his own, legs wobbling from his first ass eating.
Evan Colt had his son’s ass for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Somewhere during his dad’s post-lunch, snacking and choking on Hayes’ cock, did Hayes realize he was in a world where he and his father were husbands. Though he only remembered when he was roaring a cum shot down his dad’s greedy throat. His body had inherited so much from wearing his dad’s briefs, even the man's low heavy balls constantly churning seed and testosterone. Who wouldn’t be attracted to something they made. A planned lazy Saturday for father and son became a non-stop fuck fest for lovers.
At night, both men shared the bathroom in their underwear as they brushed their teeth. Hayes had transitioned into a fresh pair post shower. His underwear was now housed in his father’s room, their room technically. The same briefs he’d worn before but resized to hold his ass and cock. The whole time they brushed their teeth his father smiled at him.
“What?” Hayes asked, toothpaste in his mouth.
“I don’t know, you’re even more handsome than usual today, can't put my finger on it.”
[APOLOGIES, THIS IMAGE (and the next) HAD TO BE REMOVED TO NOT GET THIS POST FLAGGED, visit the website!]
Hayes spat his toothpaste into the sink. “You just like seeing me in my underwear,” He smirked.
“Can you blame me? You look so manly in them.” His dad admitted.
“Heh, well If I do, I got it from you.” Hayes blushed, “Takes a certain kind of man to pull briefs off and you’ve got ass and cock for it for days.”
“So, because I wear briefs you wanted to wear them too?” Hayes’ dad asked.
“Well yeah, you’re inspirational.” Hayes set his tooth brush down, turning to exit. The comment earned him a large smack to the ass, as his father growled in his ear. They wrestled to the bed and rolled around it until it didn't matter who looked more manly in the briefs as both pairs laid on the floor on top of each other.
The next morning, Hayes rose naked, with all the beauty his father would have. Evan Colt, however, was peacefully asleep. After kissing his dad on the head, Hayes got out of bed and walked over to the new bedroom mirror. A full body reflection awaited him. Last night wasn't a dream. And it no longer mattered how manly he looked in the underwear he wore.
He was all MAN out of them.
—
Oh yes, go on dad. Please explain what the hell I’m wearing. I’m waiting.
You don’t know? I find that hard to believe. I’m not just saying that because ALL OF THIS came with a whopping heap of knowledge. These underwear—can you even call them that?—were hanging in your closet. Must have been really special to get the pants hanger treatment. Anyone with half a brain could see that.
Stop looking at my bulge dad. I can’t help that it’s a low hanger now. Blame yourself. When I put the underwear on, these straps came out of nowhere wrapping around my body. Oh, I tried to take them off, but then muscle was just pumping into me. I just kept growing and growing in your room. You wouldn’t have believed it when my pecs came in, like two properly placed slates. Then my arms got yoked and my biceps really wanted to snap these straps. I knew these shoes had to be yours when they appeared on my new monster-sized feet. Only you would stomp around in something like them. The facial hair grew in before my face even changed to look closer to yours. Huh? Yeah, I know I’m not you, I’m an older me. Ever think your son would be as big as you thanks to the secret in your closet?
So, you were wearing this when you brought men over to plow. Don’t answer, I already know that too. Did it feel good cunting them? rearranging their insides? Owning their asses? These Small black things made you feel powerful, didn’t they? I guess you fucked around enough in them they made your son actually powerful. Don’t be shy now dad, I know you’ve bent over and opened your ass in these underwear too. Guess powerful means different things on different days. Makes me want to fuck you too.
You really shouldn't worry, we have the exact same proclivities now. Here’s what we're going to do: you get over here and start worshiping me. And maybe, just maybe, if you're good, you'll get your son’s cock, or would you prefer your new daddy?
—
Reyan had no idea the laundry had gotten mixed up. Sure, the briefs were larger, but he didn’t think much of it. Wearing the same brand as his dad was bound to lead to some mix ups. So, as he bent over to pull them up, he didn’t take into account how long the journey up his legs were, or the black hair he traveled over.
Once he was standing tall, he found himself wearing a shirt via the mirror. The colors, the character. That had to be some Dragon Ball Z shit, which meant it had his dad’s name all over it. Why was he wearing it though? He wasn’t into that weeb shit like his older brother. No wait, his dad. Multiple conflicting images and memories played in his mind. Also, what the fuck was up with his face—did he always curse this much?—a freaking beard like his dad. His hair was even longer, styled back just like his older brother. The rest of the body was a pure copy and paste of the only other Indian man in the house.
Why did Reyan feel so off, when he looked so good? Maybe he shouldn't have done the laundry today after all. “Kabir, I got your shit dumbass.” He shouted out to the house, a heavy voice carrying his words out.
“Why are you blaming me, you did the laundry?” His dad answered back. “Is that what community college is teaching you? How NOT to do laundry.” Kabir's voice was laced in playfulness. Reyan was confused as he certainly wasn't in community college. With his looks wasn’t it obvious he was a fucking model? His brother could have been one too, if he put effort into it. Footsteps came up the stairs and Kabir found Reyan in his clothes. The older brother smirked, “You didn’t say you were wearing my stuff?”
“What can I say? Guess I thought they deserved to be shown off on a body worthy of them.” Reyan gave one of those younger brother annoying smirks.
“You don’t even like anime?” Kabir shot back with his own grin.
What?! Of course, Reyan did. They watched it together all the time growing up…no, he had strange images of some kid with Kabir, but when he saw Kabir watching it growing up, Reyan skirted to the other room. It was garbage for the mind; he didn’t know anything about it. He didn't want to. But then, how did he know the shirt was Dragon Ball Z inspired? His thoughts were scattered at the moment. In Reyan’s memory the reason he put on Kabir's stuff was because he liked wearing his older brother’s things, ever since he was little, even if he didn’t get it.
“What are you going to do about it?” Reyan crossed his arms, underwear still down, shirt still up.
Kabir was used to these antics. It was their foreplay by now. “Guess I have no choice, but to take them off you.” He rushed, Reyan before their lips smashed and he had his younger brother up against a wall, legs up fucking him. Kabir’s underwear hung off Reyan’s left foot, before falling to the ground.
There would need to be another laundry day, and no doubt there’d be another mix-up.
—
“You, were hiding all this from me, dad?” Harlo cupped his package over the Calvin Klein boxers.
Stephen had no idea what the hell had just happened. His son and he were taking a much-needed summer vacation. University and work were stressful and wearing them down. They only spent one night at the hotel. While lazing around that morning in their underwear, Harlo went through his father’s suitcase, squatting on the ground, before pulling out the boxers.
“Look how big these are, definitely something a dad wears.” Harlo laughed, “Like grannie panties, but for dudes.”
“Hey, don’t be jealous, your dad’s a big dude. Muscle needs room and I like my underwear loose.” Stephen corrected.
“Tsk,” Harlo sucked his teeth, “Couldn’t be me, I need my junk to be cradled.” Stephen rolled his eyes lovingly. Harlo was a jock, and even when he wasn’t working out, preferred boxer-briefs. Long since graduated from tighty-whities, his boy got stuck on what Stephen thought was a transitional stage. Harlo seemed to think they were the pinnacle of undergarments.
“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious son.” Stephen pointed at Harlo’s underwear, electric blue boxer-briefs. The two were very open around each other. Stephen didn’t like wearing any clothes while growing up, but once he was married got in the habit of at least having underwear on. It made sense why his son would pick it up. The two Baker men, underwear brothers in arms. Eventually Stephen and his wife got a divorce, but the new habit stuck. Whenever his son was over there were never any questions about attire. The two could sit on the couch and eat ice cream all day in their underwear.
There was just one problem though: the bulge. There was a point where Harlo began sporting a noticeable heft between his legs that his underwear only accentuated. Stephen’s vision was often led there, only a blind person wouldn’t see it. Stephen was aware it was his fault in a way, as it was clearly Harlo’s inheritance from him. The difference was with the boxers Stephen wore his big cock was easy to hide, Harlo’s, however, was in the open, stretching his underwear out. Harlo, as stubborn as his dad, couldn’t be convinced to put on anything else. He liked bouncing around.
Staring at his dad’s boxers, Harlo flipped them. “Doesn’t it get hard to move, with it slapping your thighs all the time?” Then, he looked over with a mischievous smirk. “Or is it not big enough yet?” he teased his father.
Stephen rolled his eyes, with a snort. “I wear boxers because my dick is so big, you’re the one clinging to your tiny boxer-briefs like some Lost Boy.”
The look that grew on Harlo’s face was classic. His typical shit-eating grin. Something mischievous was coming. Harlo stood up and yanked his boxer-briefs down, cock slapping out. He stepped out of them, “Let’s see if they're so much better,” then kicked his underwear off to the side. One foot after the other he stepped into his dad’s boxers. Then he stood there satisfied with himself, hands on his hips, staring at his father.
“This is it? All this dangle?” He twisted his hip, letting his dick shuffle around. “Not really worth—” His mouth froze. Stephen’s eyes locked in automatically, thinking it was a trip but within a second, Harlo was gone. Something was still there in Stephen’s boxers, but it wasn’t his son. It had Harlo’s shape and size, but the key word was ‘it’. Harlo had turned into a flesh mannequin, his facial features smoothed over. Before Stephen could even hop into action, the thing in the room with him grew.
Its height stretched to the ceiling as the pecs got juicier, the abs firmer, the arms thicker. A perma-tan baked itself heavily into Harlo’s skin. Stephen couldn’t believe what he was witnessing; he'd seen those features many times in the mirror. A face emerged, as the head shook, mouth mid-yawn as lips came to be. Was it shock or awe that kept Stephen on the bed? The face he saw resembled Harlo’s but so heavily influenced by Stephen’s own. The five o'clock shadow, the moustache: Stephen’s staples. When the hat and chain appeared on Harlo, Stephen was beyond sure something was mocking his style and existence.
“Holy fuck.” Harlo looked down at his body. “Guess boxers really are for men then?” His hands cradled his pecs. “You give everyone this physique?” A hand went lower, where his eyes went wide, before smirking. “You, were hiding all this from me dad?”
Stephen gulped, not out of fear, pure excitement. He could already see the curve of his ass on Harlo, now he wanted to see the front too.
—
Mr. Chun softly sighed, “Eun-jae, did you take my underwear?”
“Noooo,” The studly Korean man put his hands behind his back. He was standing in nature with his underwear– rather his dad’s underwear, exposed. The cannonball shoulders, large pecs, diamond cut abs, tree trunk thighs, all native to Mr. Chun ‘s body. The peachy ass in the back and the bulge in the front were no different either. Mr. Chun was looking at the older version of his son, now packed with an extra packing of his father’s genetics. Eun-jae’s denim jacket was transformed into a larger version, but his pants were gone. Nothing, but fabric pieces on the trail behind them.
It was supposed to be a fun morning hike for father and son. Mr. Chun did notice his son incrementally growing as they walked but couldn’t place why. He thought maybe he was going crazy. Eun-jae going from Mr. Chun’s hips to his abs, to his chest, to meet his eyeline, however, was not a mental falter. He couldn’t piece it together until Eun-jae's new ass split the last remainder of his pants down the back. There was the culprit, encasing Eun-jae’s nether regions, Mr. Chun's own briefs! The tighty-whites were certainly wrapped tight around the new man’s muscle as if they always belonged there.
Suddenly, it all made sense to Mr. Chun. His briefs were just a bit too manly for Eun-jae, the style, the cut, the brand. Sure, they looked like typical briefs but not just anyone could pull them off. Designed to hold man-ass and family jewels, they would ensure they served their mission and nothing less.
Eun-jae’s cock began to slowly peak over the waist band. Mr. Chun looked off to the side and saw how secluded it was. No one came in either direction. He took his son’s hand and led him off the trail. Once out of sight, he pulled those briefs down and fucked his son in the forest. Eun-jae's ass swallowed cock as good as his dad’s. Eun-jae had assumed the bent over position on a tree just as Mr. Chun did when questing for cock. The forest was soon full of their lovemaking, hard bodies meeting each other. Eun-jae was the first to cum, balls pulling up as he shot a fat load onto the forest floor, cock spilling about, as his father dumped a huge load inside him.
The two never would finish their walk. There were better ways to bond.
—
Hector, my Hector, mi niñito. I never knew this would happen. How could my jock strap do this? I always knew there was something different about me. Growing up, I stood taller, my muscles bigger, my cock larger, and my balls hung lower. Jockstraps kept me tied down. I never thought he’d ever want to put one on. I had just walked in, seeing Hector sitting on the bed, faced away from me, when it sealed to his waist. The world shifted.
I know why he did it. He wanted to be closer to me. He thought the jocks held some secret because I wore them so often. Begged me to buy him some so he could have a pair too. There was no convincing him, they were just for comfort: if dad wore them there had to be something special. It turned out he was right.
The changes started from him. His back cracked, widening as muscles made their way in. The brown bare ass on my sheets rounded and firmed, sinking lower into the mattress. I came around, in time to see his pecs spill forth, bringing forth arms and legs that rightfully belonged to me. My hair grew over his chest, black whiskers spilling from the sternum, swirling over his nipples until a familiar treasure trail appeared over his abs. Then the same light hairs I had on my legs and forearms took up residence on his. His face went through several changes, life phases, all impacted by me. His jaw pronounced his own facial features, but the five o'clock shadow was all mine. Then the trademark mustache grew in. My son was replaced by a man made out of testosterone in my bed.
With his first new breath, I heard the sounds of a gruff voice. On his first exhale, the house followed suit. Pictures of my son and me changed as he was replaced with the older version now in my room. Our poses became less paternal and more intimate. Hands around waists, gazing into each other’s eyes. A wedding photo of us was the main scene stealer. A large banner in the background that read: In holy matrimony Father & Son. The bed expanded, ever so slightly, for the comfortability of two bodies. As for the layout of my room, it was completely altered, as more clothes appeared. Then accessories akin to my sensibilities appeared on his body, my socks, my bracelets, my necklaces, my beanie. He even copied my nipple piercing.
I faltered back, realizing I was in a world where I was married to my son, who was the same age as me. Judging by the pictures of us with family and friends around, no one questioned how it was possible or even thought the union was strange. Smiles and good times to be had by all. Even a candid of me that sat on top of my dresser, showed my tongue fully invading Hector's mouth. The world had accepted it and given everyone, but me the memo. My mind was stressed, but my emotions were peaceful, seeing our shoes on the floor, shirts and pants hanging in the closet. Our lives became intertwined as one. My jockstrap had forcibly pulled my son up to my level.
My mind was so lost, I hadn't even noticed Hector was talking to me. “Good morning, dad!” he lowered his voice and said, “babe,” seductively. “Came to start your morning off with this?” He flexed his biceps.
Should I have rebelled? Tried to set the world, right? I didn’t. The minute his biceps rose, so did my cock. He was my husband alright, and my body knew it on a deeper level even if my consciousness didn’t. His body, fueled by my masculinity, was a sight to see. I wanted him badly and I was going to have him.
—
Jacquan Davis did not own the body. He didn’t even own the coffee. The bubble ass he was using to rest on the counter was a perfect replica of someone already sculpted. He drank his coffee, trying to get his active body to take a rest. The muscles didn’t know how to relax; they craved exercise. He even knew the coffee wasn’t the greatest idea. But that was his dad’s addiction expressing itself through him. As for his dad, now husband, Mr. Daon Davis was knocked out. Who could blame him? He had a tough day and an active night afterwards.
Daon had bought them matching underwear as a joke gift for his own Father’s Day. He was always doing stuff that made him laugh on days like that. Black briefs with white polka dots on the waist band and white vertical lines across its entirety. Jacquan had been upset, “Briefs are for kids” were his exact words. What respectable person his age or older would walk around with their ass and cock on display? Even if he knew his dad hadn't actually expected Jacquan to wear them, the gift was still a slight.
Underwear that promised to grow the bond between father and son. It made no sense. In Jacquan’s mind, men didn't wear briefs so how could a father & son set even exist? The packaging claimed to be a joke, but Jacquan wasn't laughing. For all the effort to be stupid, they may as well put cartoon characters on it and make people feel even more dumb.
And though it was supposed to be a joke, Jacquan saw his father, slipping into the larger of the pair when he thought his son wasn’t around. Daon didn’t even keep them on for long, tossing them in the laundry hamper without a second thought. That’s when Jacquan struck, sneaking into the room. If his dad wanted to humor the joke, he would too, but he wasn't going for the son's underwear, he wanted the father’s one. At least he might feel like a man that way. Once he put them on, the heat of his dad’s cock and ass were still embedded into the fabric. The connection to his own dad made Jacquan’s skin tingle, then his whole body, as the warmth flooded inside of him. A huge cock pushed out the front as his ass expanded out the back, each filling in the underwear the same way his father did.
Jacquan’s upper body and lower body morphed, rising, growing. He could feel his dad’s strength moving within him. They were connected in more ways than one. This underwear was not for sons, this pair was made to make men feel secure within them. A sort of feedback to the owner that had no side effects for the originator. However, for a stranger unused to the level of testosterone and development, even from his own father, was an overload. The body that was birthed, knew who its donator was, baking pecs fit for a man over 6’ft tall. The abs and the arms were just extra icing on the cake. Despite all the physique defining hormones Jacquan’s face stayed true even as facial hair got his lower jaw and upper lip.
His dad walked back in to find his new monumental son standing in the room in his underwear. The pull between them was electric and it was all due to those tight briefs. Jacquan’s ass and cock were filling them in a way no mere ‘son’ could. They’re bodies moved closer and soon they were on the floor rolling around, making out. Daon was the one to slide the briefs off, and soon enough was buried balls deep in his boy. His hips moved automatically, positioning in and out of the well-trained ass, until he came an entire new heaping of sons deep in Jacquan’s depths. There was no ‘cool down’ after-period. Jacquan rolled his father over and made his own claim as a man, taking his father’s ass on the floor as well.
They fucked their brains out and then some. The underwear had been like crack to their systems. Jacquan had been so wrong about who briefs were for. Only men could fuck like this, the briefs only made it hotter. They did try to call the company that made the underwear, who claimed misuse of their products. Jacquan’s transformation was his own fault for putting on a father’s pair of underwear, especially one recently worn by his dad. Words between them didn’t come until late in bed, trying to make sense of their new bond.
The next morning, Jacquan rose out of his father's bed with a strange compulsion on his tongue. He needed coffee. Then a set of events that led to his current introspection in the kitchen, coffee mug in his hand. What was next for him and his dad following this…besides the several fuck sessions.
—
I fucked up. I know that now. Putting on my dad’s jockstrap was a terrible idea. It turned me into a big hairy guy like him. Before, I didn’t properly appreciate how small I was and how easy it was to maneuver around. This body, my body, lumbered with serious weight just like my dad. Hard to sneak about with quaking footsteps. My chest was so goddamn itchy when the fur covered me. All the hair on my head migrated below my eyebrows. I wasn't a fan of the beard either. It looked nice on my dad, but made me a whole other person.
There was no benefit to being so large. Worse of all was my cock, my nuts had swelled like fucking baseballs and my cock, even soft, was thicker than a beer can. The thing wanted my attention from the moment it arrived. Had to use my hand to keep the wanting beast down, until my dad got home. He could teach me how to deal with the direct offspring of his own cock.
Maybe I should have believed my cousin, Marlon, when he called me. At first, I didn’t know it was him. His voice was deeper and he was whispering. Said he found out that his dad had special underwear and my dad did too. Marlon said once he put them on, he became as tall as his dad and as old as him. His call was to warn me not to put them on if I ever came across them. I thought Marlon was messing with me by putting on the voice. So, yeah, I headed into my dad’s room looking for the jockstrap. How was I supposed to take his word for it without confirming?
Found it easily, my dad wasn't good at hiding stuff from me. I just never knew there was something worth looking for. No idea what it was even used for. I wanted it because my dad had it. How could my cousin know about special underwear and not me? Being a shit, to stick it to my cousin, I slipped the jockstrap on and that’s where the trouble started.
Now, I'm this! A freaking gorilla and it was my own fault. My dad was going to be mad, but probably after he drained my cock. He was a cock hound through and through and so was I. He’d get a healthy dose of his grandkids, and my tongue was getting more curious to taste my brothers.
My cock throbbed.
I pray my dad gets back soon.
—
Marlon sighed, sitting in his father’s room. He hoped his cousin, Gilbert, had believed him. There was no helping him anymore. His chest sat proudly, two prominent pecs with perky nipples. Then there were his longer arms and legs, new muscularity packed into them. All foreign to him moments ago but slowly acclimating to his mind. As for his face, a nearly perfect copy and paste of his dad, no fat, all sculpted bone defining his chin. A permanent five o'clock shadow fused into his jaw with his father’s mustache chilling on his lower lip. Nothing left of who he was.
Marlon had overheard their dad’s talking at the last family get together about secret underwear in the dresser. Apparently, they only wore it on certain occasions, and Marlon was curious, or stupid enough, to go looking.
The moment he slipped on the pale green fabric, his cock jutted out, stretching the jockstrap. His father liked them tight exclusively for showing off his large appendage, and now his son was no different. Father and son shared more than just blood as Marlon experienced why his father kept the jockstrap a secret. It was as if every debaucherous thought from his dad was exposed as it flooded Marlon’s mind. The growth started silently, but Marlon couldn't hold back his moans. His body fed, redesigning itself to its former owner’s blueprint.
The jockstrap didn't know the kind, caring, fatherly image as much as it knew the man-whore. Nothing but a walking pole, practically a bottom fisher with the fat cakes he dragged everywhere in the straps. Marlon’s own butt firmed up, to massive size, while his legs pushed him higher. He could see his father in various sexual positions, bending, twisting, engaging his core and, Marlon’s mid-section bestowed the same abs onto him.
A new man, as hot as his own father, came to life. He collapsed on the ground, body weak, but blood pumping to all his new muscles. The first thing he had to do was warn his cousin. There was probably a jockstrap laying in wait to strike at his house too. They weren’t trinkets to be fucked around with; they were carriers of WMDs.
As Marlon sat on the chair, he heard the front door slam! “Marlon, Marlon” his dad’s voice was panicked as the male rushed up the stairs, “My brother said Gilbert got into his stuff and— “Marlon’s dad froze upon seeing his son, leg spread, cock print visible. He gulped standing in the doorway.
“Are you okay?” He asked, fighting to keep his eyes on Marlon’s face.
“What do you think dad?” Marlon sighed, as his cock throbbed, “I’m as horny as you! Can you ever make your dick chill the fuck out?”
“I usually compose myself…and get serious, when I think of you,” His dad stated, “Knowing you need me, it pulls me back.”
Marlon tried to earnestly follow that advice but in reverse, think of his dad. When he did however, only the sluttiest and braggadocious versions popped to mind. All the things his dad wouldn’t let his son see, but certainly a lover. Marlon’s eyes snapped open, no use his cock was aching even more, and his dad was watching a wet spot form. There was an excited jerk in his dad’s pants.
“Apologizes,” His dad halfheartedly covered his dress pants, “I don’t mean to stare, but I can’t look away. It’s like it’s calling to my dick.” His breath got heavy as he placed a foot into the room. “And I’m trying, believe me, I am to focus on my son, get serious.” He shook his head, “But your cock keeps knocking it out of my head.” His dad sat on Marlon’s spread legs and pulled out both their cocks, perfect twins leaking on each other. The strokes were slow but the gaze between the men was intense, before they locked lips. Marlon’s dad went faster as Marlon’s legs trembled, cock slicking and being slick by his father’s cock.
“FUCKKKK!!!” He cried as gallons of pent of seed came gushing out of him and landed on his pecs, before his father said “SHIT!” and his seed mixed with Marlon’s. They turned his torso into a canvas for their shared DNA.
“Goddamn,” His dad chuckled, pressing his forehead to Marlon’s, “My naughty son going through my stuff, guess that just made you even more naughty?”
“As naughty as my old man,” Marlon chuckled, before the two kissed.
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