Fantasy Feedback Loop (2 of 2)
When the second flash faded…he was still my dad, but fuck…he was big. He’d added close to half a foot in height, that beard of his had grown out a couple of inches and added some grey, he bulked out too, piling on muscle, thick cords of it, with a hefty, solid gut jutting out. He was, literally, the daddy of my fucking dreams, and then I looked down at myself, and saw he wasn’t the only one who had changed, this time.
Apparently, while he’d been sucking me off for the first time–or the hundredth, it was hard to remember exactly–he’d been…thinking about me, too. I’d never been a big kid, hell, was I kind of a nerd, and my father had always wanted me to jock out a bit more, follow in his footsteps…and now, I realized that I had. I wasn’t going to college anymore–I was working with him on the building crew. I wasn’t as massive as he was, of course, but I looking like a slightly smaller version of him, and fuck, if I didn’t feel sexy as fuck. I knew…that I needed to get up and turn off the generator, but what I did instead was roll over and present my boyhole for him, he lubed his cock up with some spit and slid it into me, nice and fucking deep, right where it belonged. I could smell us both, sweaty and rank from today’s work, how I’d just stared at him all day, longing for this moment, like everyday. He was rough, ramming in deep, pulling my hair, tugging my nipples, and I was enjoying it, wishing he’d be harder still…when I felt that same thrumming in the air, and another flash…
This time, I’d flipped over, and was swinging in the air, in…in our sling. Daddy was in his gear, sneering at me, my legs locked to the chains while he worked on my hole…getting ready to fist his boy into oblivion. He was just as massive as before–maybe even a bit bigger–his beard fuller and longer, and tattoos all over his arms and chest, just…just like my own. I wasn’t just his son now…I was his boy, I was his slave. He lit a cigar for himself, fed me his smoke, making me even more hungry for him, and then worked his hand into me…and fuck, if I didn’t feel just…it was fucking heaven.
He’s in me almost to my elbow now, and I can feel the energy pounding in my ears, vibrating my teeth. This is going to be a big one, and I don’t know if I’m ready for it. He’s grinning at me, and I can almost see my own, twisted reflection in his eyes, and then there’s a flash, a loud pop or explosion, and when the after image fades, he’s…huge. My…my fucking master. Eight feet tall, 500 pounds of almost pure muscle, hair coating every inch of his body. My cock drools in its cage at the sight of him, and he shoves his foot and a half inch long cock into me, nearly making me scream, but I need it. This piggy hole needs to be filled all the time now…and fuck if I’m not the happiest I can ever remember being. I can see the smoking ruins of the fantasy generator on my dresser, and I know I’ll never be going back, but why would I fucking want to? Why would I want to be anything other than a stupid fuckhole for my muscle beast of a father?