Paternal Chemistry - Part 4

The next week was perhaps the most freeing of Denny’s life. He didn’t care that he was fatter than ever, that he arrived at work with his belly flopping out the bottom of his shirt, or that he’d left several of his slacks in shreds after bending over to grab a fallen chip. He didn’t care that he was hornier than he’d ever been—he actually kind of enjoyed that part. He especially liked all the attention that his new attitude was giving him at the bar. And he definitely liked how Jensen couldn’t keep his hands off him, and had begun fucking him in the alley behind the bar every night.

He didn’t care. He was fat and hungry and horny, and for the first time in years, happy. 

So when he came home from the bar late one night, Jensen’s seed still trickling out his well-used asshole, Denny felt no shame in immediately ripping off his clothes and basking in the combined aroma of both his own and Mike’s pheromones. Before, he would have been mortified to be caught mostly naked by his son, but now, what did it truly matter? What did anything matter beyond his own pleasure? 

The thought drew Denny off the couch to follow Mike’s scent down into the basement. Mike wasn’t home, but his frequent workouts meant that the basement gym always reeked of him. Denny had given up trying to convince Mike to wash down his equipment. Secretly, he wished that Mike would never shower again—all the better to ripen his scent to an overpowering extreme.

Even in its current state, Denny could feel himself harden somewhere beneath his belly—he hadn’t been able to see his member in some time, but he knew it was still there by the way it rubbed against his billowing flesh. Simply walking to the laundry hamper teased his cock deliciously. 

By the time he’d grabbed the first garment he could—a used jock strap much like the one he’d huffed weeks ago—he was ragingly horny and leaking pre-cum like a broken faucet. But rather than reach beneath his wobbling gut to pleasure himself, he began to reach around his own circumference to finger his asshole. His dick still brought him plenty of pleasure, but Denny had found his hole was now the center of his orgasmic world. He hardly needed to even touch his cock to get off, so long as he had the right implement inside him. Usually, that was a cock the size of Jensen’s, but a few of his newly-fattened fingers would do the job in a pinch.

Just as he was beginning to slip his middle finger past his outer ring, Denny saw that Mike had recently installed a full-length mirror on the wall. Denny hadn’t truly seen himself fully in some time—his bathroom mirror simply couldn’t contain all of him anymore, so he didn’t truly know how large he’d gotten. 

He was astonished to see himself in full. Full being the operative word; his stomach spilled over his waist to mostly obscure his groin, his sides billowed outward in two massive loaves that wobbled with each movement, and his chest heaved and jiggled with his every breath. He was enormous, sure, but also so vastly different from what he remembered: different shape, different curves, different textures, all of it novel in a way that held no comparison with his past life.

Perhaps before, Denny would have been alarmed to see his obese form, but now he was pleasantly astonished at what he saw, and curious to see how it would feel. He’d been groped repeatedly by Jenson, but he’d never taken the time to truly understand how his new body felt. He ceased his self-insertion to instead rub his hand over the vast area of his rear, taking the time to savor the sensation while simultaneously gauging his own enormity. 

His ass was truly massive—some would even describe it as the focal point of his fattened form. The eye was naturally drawn to its gentle slope, its enticing bounce, and especially its size. He tried to run a single finger up and over his fleshy hip and felt goosebumps rise on his arms, legs, and hairy back. 

Next, he reached for the furthest part of his hanging belly to squeeze the soft flesh that hung from him like a sack of fur-covered dough. He knew his past self would have been disgusted at the sight, but his new perspective focused on the feeling, both the tactile sensation in his hands and the indescribable notion of width and malleability, how he was both flexible and yielding to anything more solid. 

As he played with his girth, Denny felt a stirring in his loins—loins he hadn’t seen with his own eyes in weeks. But through the mirror, he could observe his uncut chode rise between titanic thighs that nearly choked its access to the outside world. His legs were sturdy, almost impossibly wide, and deliciously soft. He could tense his quads to provide just enough pressure on his buried cock that if he moved his hips, it dragged his foreskin back and forth. His own body provided him with delicious foreplay, a pearl of precum forming as he slowly rocked to his own reflection.

With no manual stimulation required, Denny was free to continue feeling himself. He brought his hands up to his sagging tits sitting atop his jutting stomach. Easily larger than his former wife’s, but with a uniquely masculine texture—a mixture of muscle and fat covered in thick fur, although he noted that his nipples had enlarged so they were even larger than any woman’s. And, he discovered, so much more sensitive as he ran his fingers gently over each. His pearl of pre surged forth into a shimmering string that fell from his chode to the linoleum floor. 

Denny absently noted lesser changes—how his neck had disappeared beneath a triple chin and a fold of flesh at the back of his neck. How his ears were pushed out by the flesh that wrapped around his head. How his belly and sides were marked with faint red lines. How all of him undulated hypnotically, even with the mildest of motion. He was so enamored with his own reflection and self-pleasure that he lost track of how long he’d simply been staring at his wobbling form as it leaked precum all over the ground.

Until he heard a creek from the door behind him. In the top left of the mirror’s reflection, Denny saw Mike standing in the shadows of the laundry room—naked, his pronounced musculature on full display, and a towering cock rising almost as high as his heavy pecs. 

“Son! I didn’t know you were home.” There was surprise in Denny’s voice, but not embarrassment. 

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Mike replied. “I’d known that the serum was affecting you tangentially, but I had no idea it had been so… profound.”

Now that the initial shock of Mike’s presence had worn off, Denny was entirely overcome with the sight of him. He’d grown just as much as he had in the few weeks since he’d moved home. Well over 300 pounds, he had the V-like body of a pro wrestler. His lats pushed his muscle-bound arms to his sides, and his eight-pack abdominals were so densely packed they rounded out his middle. Despite his exaggerated definition, he still had a bubble butt and a youthful face that would have been inviting if his expression weren’t so cold and calculating.

But what enraptured Denny was Mike’s cock. Easily a foot long, it arched upwards and twitched with his pulse, the perfect foreskin already retracted by the shaft’s tumescence to reveal a dark, shiny head. Denny thought he saw the glint of Mike’s excitement, and it made his mouth water and his own chode leak another string of pre. 

To any outside observer, the smell in the basement would have been overpowering. Pheromones wafted between the two men, but only Mike consciously detected them. He allowed himself to become increasingly aroused, while Denny was simply overcome with lust at the sight of this paragon of masculinity before him. He no longer cared that the being before him was his son—he had to have that cock inside him. 

Mike allowed his fat, hairy father to run his tongue up and down his abdominals, to bask in his post-workout sweat, to guide his towering cock between his furry man-tits for a blowjob. He allowed Denny to perform acts of depravity he’d never experienced before simply to see what he would do—to understand the effects of the serum better, or so he told himself. But a deeper, darker corner of his subconscious took delight in the incredible power. And if he could muster that power over his own father, he could do it to anyone. 

Denny was simply lost. His world was hard flesh, enticing odors, sweat, and cock. So much cock. Jensen might have had an incredible hog, but Mike’s was the masculine ideal of cock. A perfect shape, insatiably hard, fleshy below the fist-sized head, and always sputtering a delicious concoction of pre-cum. He simply couldn’t get enough and stuck his tongue into Mike’s urethra to lap out more like a dog. 

This went on for some time before the pheremones finally became too much for Mike. He picked up his father like he didn’t weigh close to 400 pounds. He laid him over the bench to present his enormous ass and was pleased to find it had lubricated itself—another helpful effect of the serum. With so much cock working into so much ass, it was almost like Mike was lining up a billiards break, but he eventually found his mark and pressed. He slid in easily despite his size until he felt his lemon-sized balls nestle against Denny’s own.

Mike experienced the satisfaction of claiming, of possessing, while Denny experienced the white-hot pleasure of being claimed. He realized that Jensen had merely provided him with a hint of what he was craving: the power of a real man. He’d never felt so full, so much a part of something greater. He knew at that moment that this was the cock he’d have to pleasure to its fullest, forever. 

Mike’s thrusts were long and languid, drawing out as much pleasure as Denny’s ass could give him. He was an uncaring top, neither giving Denny time to accommodate his massive tool, nor caring to match Denny’s backward thrusts. It was only a matter of kind coincidence that Denny didn’t care either—he was pleased to take Mike’s cock any way he’d give it. 

But as the stench of the two men’s rutting increased, so too did the concentration of pheromones, and Mike’s thrusts took on a faster, more deliberate cadence. No longer merely concerned with his pleasure, the pheremones now drove him to breed. The basement soon became filled with the overtone of soft flesh impacting dense muscle, combined with the subtler lewdness of a wet orifice being rapidly filled and almost emptied. A piston of flesh driven by an engine of lust. 

Denny was lost. Jensen had given him a glimpse of the orgasmic delights a man could provide, but Mike was showing him the infinite universe of pleasure. He had stared into the abyss, and now the abyss was busily claiming his ass. There was no conscious thought left in him—it was all automatic reactions. His moans turned to squeals, and then a splatter of cum leapt from his chode to cover the bench. 

Mike hardly noticed. He was more in control of his faculties than Denny, but his world was now driving towards a singular goal. A goal that was fast approaching with each rippling wave of flesh that eagerly greeted his thrusts. He hardly cared that it was his father satisfying his base urges. He barely even registered how he’d made him cum already. He merely saw a fat ass beta to his alpha, one who was built to serve and service him. And in that servicing, he would achieve ultimate power.

When Denny felt the massive log in his guts flex hard enough to find even greater depths within him, he made a garbled grunt of pleasure, then spewed out another load that sprayed all over his hanging gut before mingling with the puddle of cum on the bench and floor. And when he felt Mike’s seed fill him beyond even his prodigious capacity, he felt his stomach surge forward as he grew.

Denny’s eyes were screwed shut as he endured a seemingly endless orgasm, but had he seen his reflection in the full-body mirror, he’d have seen his body rapidly expand. Already obese, Mike’s seed fattened him to truly titanic proportions. His stomach and ass widened by nearly half a foot on either side, the billowing fat of his gut now hanging far enough to provide a countering “plap, plap, plap” to the sound of Mike’s pelvis hammering his ass. His tits inflated and drooped to flop wildly with the brute jackhammering his hole, and his thighs thickened almost as large as Mike’s musclebound waist. 

Had Denny been sitting on a scale, he’d have seen the dial fly past 400 pounds, then 430, then 450 as his jowly face folded with additional mass, his cries of pleasure dropping almost an octave lower as his neck disappeared beneath an advancing tide of fat. His cock, still iron hard and leaking cum, became invisible as his pelvic lard swallowed it entirely. Denny would hardly lament the loss of access as he found that his own bulk provided more than adequate stimulation. 

And besides, he’d only ever get off by receiving an ass-pounding. Nothing else would satisfy him. Mike’s transformative cum further rewrote Denny’s mental pathways such that the height of pleasure could only be achieved by having a truly massive cock buried deep in his fat, hairy asshole. Even if he could reach his buried nub, he’d never want to. He was built for pleasuring men, after all—true men, like his son. 

As his elephantine bulk settled at around the 500-pound mark, Denny’s senses returned. He felt at peace, fulfilled in a way that exceeded his trysts with Jensen. Oh, the big lug might do in a pinch, but he’d experienced what true satisfaction felt like. There was no going back.

Mike took a lumbering step backward, his still-hard erection unplugging a flood of his own semen to rush out and spill to the ground. He was astonished to see what his cum had wrought. His father was beyond obese now, jiggling flesh jutting in every direction, and yet he was not disgusted as he once might have been. Instead, he saw a perfect receptacle for his seed; a breeding animal to be used whenever his compulsions got the better of him, as they had so clearly done this evening. He couldn’t deny that his physique had come at a price—a price that would need to be paid in cum. 

He wondered if Denny would become larger the next time he fucked him. 

For his part, Denny seemed to bask in his son’s attention. He brought a semen-covered hand up to his enlarged bosom to heft it flirtatiously. “That was wonderful, Mike,” he said, breathlessly. “I can’t wait to do it again.” 

Curiously, Mike knew that it would happen again, and he could tell that so did Denny. Another note to add to this increasingly unexpected transformation. It would be written just before the last note for the night—one that described how he followed after his father’s ponderously lumbering steps to help him wash in the shower. 

And fuck him twice more before bedtime.