Commissioned by Scot158f

Down in the den, Terry heard the front door open, and his son Caleb call out, “Dad! I’m home!”

“Hey Caleb,” he called back, “I’m down in the den,” His son appeared at the top of the stairs in the kitchen with his backpack, looking down at his dad lounging in his recliner, relaxing on his Saturday. “How was the mall?”

“Oh, good–you know, just hanging out with some friends…nothing too big.”

“Sounds good. You want dinner soon? I can order some pizza or something.”

“Nah, I’m not really hungry right now. I’m gonna go upstairs for a bit.”

Terry raised an eyebrow and shrugged, but Caleb didn’t see–he had already bounded off and up the stairs to his bedroom, and Terry knew something was up. Caleb was always hungry–hell, the kid was fat, though Terry wasn’t exactly one to talk–he was plenty big himself, and only seemed to get bigger these days. He sighed, knowing that the pretty constant diet of pizza and soda was the main culprit for them both–he’d never been a very good cook, and ever since Fran had left–

No, he didn’t want to think about that right now. The wounds were still a bit too fresh, even after all these years, when she’d run off with some other man and left him alone with Caleb. It had been hard, raising a teenager all by himself, but he was a good kid–still, Terry knew his son was lying about something. He didn’t have any friends for one thing, or at least no friends Terry had seen over at their house, and he knew Caleb hated the mall. He’d obviously been out somewhere, but where, and with who? His son was keeping secrets, and Terry wasn’t sure whether to try and pry them away, or let Caleb have his private life. He was seventeen after all–old enough that he could make his own mistakes, but Terry still worried about him–how could he not? Dads worried about their sons–it was natural. Still, he needed to talk to Caleb about something else too, he just wasn’t sure how to broach the subject yet, which made it worse.

A couple weeks earlier, while he’d been digging through Caleb’s clothes, putting together a load of laundry, he’d jostled his son’s computer by accident, and seen that Caleb had left it on–and the site on the screen had shocked him a bit. He’d expected his son to have discovered porn by now–hell, he’d had quite the stash of pilfered magazines by the time he was seventeen, but the site wasn’t what he’d expected, and it had taken him some research one night to understand what exactly gay bears were, and what a chub was.

Now Terry didn’t have any real problem with his son being gay–he didn’t understand it, that was for sure, but he was still going to love him just the same. Mostly, he wanted to make sure that Caleb knew that he could talk to him about anything–and the fact that Caleb hadn’t talked to him about it at all worried him more than anything. But how exactly was he supposed to broach the subject now? “Hey son, I accidentally got a look at the porn sites you’ve been looking at–funny how the guys you’re jacking off to kind of look like your dad, eh?” For some reason, he didn’t think that would go over very well with his teenage son.

The show he was watching came to an end, and he decided that even if Caleb wasn’t hungry, he was–so he was going to go ask him what he’d like for dinner. He hefted himself up the first flight of stairs and into the kitchen, angry that he’d let himself go. He’d been quite the looker back in the day, but since Fran had left, he’d slacked off big time. He was afraid to weigh himself, but the last time he’d gone to the doctor, he’d been nearly three hundred pounds, and he was fairly certain that he’d gone past that point of no return by now, and unlike his son, he didn’t really find being this size all that attractive. He hefted himself up the second flight to the bedrooms and down the hall to his son’s room at the end, where the door was shut. He gave it a knock, and immediately his son called out, a bit panicked, “Hang on a sec!”

Terry rolled his eyes–great, and now he’d probably interrupted him masturbating. He gave him a few seconds to get himself together and change the screen, and then opened the door–only to run right smack into–something. It was the strangest sensation, like he was at the ocean, and a massive wave was rolling over and through him, but while he felt the pressure of it, it didn’t push him back–it just folded itself around him, and for a second he was encased in something that felt like a crush of air, but it wasn’t air–it was like reality itself was bending around him, pulling him into it, and then it eased away, leaving him trying to catch his breath right inside his son’s room. Only an instant had passed, the amount of time it took him to open the door and step into the room, but it had felt like ages. He blinked a few times, sorting himself out, and then looked up and saw his son at his computer.

No, it wasn’t his son, it was a stranger. No, it was his son, of course it was his son, it was just, his son didn’t look like his son…should? His head hurt, like he had too many brains trying to occupy the same space, and he let out a grunt. No, it was his son–of course it was. Why had he thought otherwise? He just felt so…weird, all of a sudden. He looked over at where his son sat at the computer wearing a tanktop and boxers like he always did, but even though he knew it was his son, it was almost like he was looking at someone completely new. In his memory, he almost remembered his son as being pudgy, probably over two hundred and fifty pounds, well on his way to where he was at three hundred, but now…well, his son was still chubby, sure, but most of the mass packed on his frame was muscle. He almost had the look of a power lifter, thick arms and legs with a tight gut, but on top of that, his son was hairy. Terry was relatively smooth himself–he couldn’t even grow a very good beard–but his son, well, hirsute was nearly an understatement. His arms were covered all the way down to his palms, he had a thicket emerging from the top of his low collar, which crawled up his neck to join the thick, half inch long beard covering his face. When Caleb reached up to scratch his armpit, he saw it was equally dense there as well. It took him a second to break his gaze, when he finally realized that his son was talking to him.

“Dad? Hey, you alright?”

Terry shook his head, still trying to sort everything out, but his head seemed to be settling down a bit. “yeah, yeah–sorry, I guess I just, uh, spaced out there for a second. Um, I…what did I come up here for?”

He scratched his head, but couldn’t remember. He’d been down in the den, thinking about…about that bear site he’d found…but he hadn’t actually come up here to talk about that, had he? There had to have been something else…but he supposed there was no time like the present. “Look, do you have a few minutes, Caleb? There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Sure dad, what is it?” Caleb asked, spinning his chair around to where his dad took a seat on his bed, and Terry saw that something else was new too–his son’s crotch was bulging–hell, the gaps in his buttoned boxers were straining to hold it in, and for some reason, Terry couldn’t take his eyes off it…and his cock was getting hard. He shook his head–what was he doing? His son was hot, sure, but that was just wrong. “Look, I was in here the other day, picking up your gym clothes for the laundry, when I accidentally knocked your computer. You’d left it on, but the screen lit up, and I saw…well…I saw the kind of porn you were looking at, son, and I just wanted you to know that I love you no matter what, and if you want to talk about it, I’m here, alright?”

He’d expected his son to blush, or yell at him, or run from the room, but what he didn’t expect was Caleb to raise one eyebrow and smirk a bit, “Talk about what? That I’m gay? Dad, you’ve known I was gay for years–I told you when I was thirteen.”

“Yeah, I know, but…wait…” Terry said, “I…no you didn’t…”

“Yeah I did. You were downstairs, and I came home, and I told you in a rush, and then you told me you were gay too–as for bears, hell, most of the sites I browse I got from you anyway,” he said with a smile, and Terry just gaped at him.

But it was true, it was all true. How could he have forgotten that? Still everything his son had just said, it just felt so…wrong. He wasn’t gay, he’d always liked girls, but then why was it that the only porn he could remember looking at all these years was men–bears and chubs in particular. Hell, no wonder he was so attracted to his son–he was fucking handsome as fuck, but he couldn’t cross that line–he knew that.

“Are you sure there wasn’t something else you wanted to talk to me about, dad?” Caleb asked, leaning back, one hand drifting down and squeezing his crotch, “You haven’t taken your eyes off it since you sat down you know.”

“Caleb, look, you know how I feel, but I’m your dad, alright? I just…I came up to ask you what you wanted for dinner.”

“Fuck dinner,” Caleb said, and leaned forward, giving Terry a deep kiss, pushing his dad over and climbing onto him, pinning his hands to the mattress as they kissed. Terry fought him for a moment or two, then just sighed and enjoyed the feeling of his son kissing him, of his son’s beard on his own stubbly cheeks, and he ground his crotch against Caleb’s, and he was so fucking horny he could barely stand it. “Fuck dad, I’ve wanted you for so fucking long, I can’t wait anymore,” Caleb said, pulling away, reaching down the front of his dad’s boxers and pulling out his cock, “Now I want a taste of this cock of yours.”

“Caleb, no–we can’t…” Terry started to say, but his protests dissolved into groans as soon as his son swallowed his cock to the hilt in one fell swoop, and he struggled to keep up with what was going on. He’d just come up to ask about dinner, hadn’t he? Or had he come up because he’d finally decided to go all the way with his son? Had he always been gay, and if he had, then what about Fran? The name was there, and yet all of the memories which should have been attached to it weren’t. Fran was just some hooker he’d had sex with on a drunken dare, and when Caleb had been left on his doorstep all those years ago, he’d raised him happily. He was thankful his son was gay too, actually–plus he’d apparently been practicing, because he was giving Terry one of the best blowjobs he’d ever gotten…but still, this was wrong. It almost hurt him physically to do it, but he pushed his son away and crawled back up the bed away from him. “Caleb, I can’t we just can’t–it’s wrong, ok?” He saw the hurt in his son’s eyes, and turned away and left the room without another word, shutting himself in his bedroom, and trying to put his thoughts back together.

Everything was a jumble, and it had all started when he’d stepped into Caleb’s room, and that strange—wave had hit him. He couldn’t quite remember it happening, it felt like it was right at the edge, like a dream that desperately wanted to fade, but the more he clung to it, the more real it felt. He began to feel like that memory, that wave, was a wall, a wall of glass that he couldn’t budge, no matter how hard he fought it, but if he tried hard enough, and looked long enough, he could see bits beyond it, still hanging in the blackness. Fran was one thing, and his old son’s fat frame was another, and his heterosexuality, and yet they all felt imagined, like they simply couldn’t possibly be real. He sat down on his bed, cradling his head in his hands, ashamed that he’d lost control like that. He’d told himself many times that he wouldn’t do it, even if Caleb asked him to, and he’d broken that promise–how could he have done that? He sighed, not wanting to leave the room and confront it, but he had to–but it could wait until his hardon went away, he thought, blushing.

He sat there for a few more minutes, trying to relax and think about what he was going to say, when there came a knock on his door. “Hey dad? Are you in there? Can we talk?”

Terry covered himself up, and said, “Yeah Caleb, come on in.”

The door opened, and as soon as it did, he saw the wave come rushing towards him–it pushed it’s way across the room, the walls almost bending out from the force of it, and then it hit him again, engulfing him once more, but this time it worked…faster. Like it knew him, knew what to expect, what sort of defenses he had, and before he could even really register what had happened it was gone, and there his son was, standing in the doorway, buck naked. He strode into Terry’s room, ducking and turning to the side since he was a little too wide to go through them normally, and smirked, “Well dad, my birthday’s finally here–that was the deal, wasn’t it?”

Terry didn’t know what his son was talking about for a second, but as soon as he started trying to figure it out, the memory was there, like it had been all along. At thirteen, when his son had first come out him, when he’d first tried to convince his dad to have sex with him, Terry had made him promise that he wouldn’t ask again, but that when he turned eighteen, if he still wanted to, well, then Terry would be all for it. He couldn’t believe he’d actually agreed to something like that, but looking back, he’d known his son was going to be one hot piece of bear beef by the time he came of age–why wouldn’t he make a promise like that? Hell, at fifteen, Caleb had had a full beard going, though it had taken him a few more years to rival his dad’s, Terry thought, stroking his beard which had grown down to his chest. In the back of his head, he thought that he shouldn’t be this hairy–that he’d been smooth just seconds before, but he’d been growing his beard ever since he’d gotten his first whiskers…right?

“Yeah, that was the deal. And from that hard on of yours, I think I know what you’re looking for,” Terry said, stroking his own cock.

Caleb didn’t reply, he just strode over and started kissing his dad, running his massive hands through his thickly furred chest, their beards tangling together as they made out roughly. Caleb ran his hands over his dad’s muscular body, and something about it just felt wrong–not the fact that he was about to have sex with his son–he’d wanted that for years now–but his body. It just didn’t feel…right. In his minds eye, for some reason, he kept picturing himself as being fat, and over three hundred pounds. Well, he did weight over three hundred pounds, but most of that was muscle, like Caleb. Hell, the two of them spent tons of time working out together, smelling each other’s musky sweat, jacking off together on the benches, fantasizing about Caleb’s eighteenth birthday, which was finally–finally here…he’d waited so long for this, the last few months had been torture for them both, but now they were together, and Terry didn’t think that would be changing for a long time.

Caleb wrapped his hand around Terry’s thick, long cock–nine inches long and nearly the thickness of a beer can with a thick foreskin. His head was already wet with precum, and he growled, “Don’t just play with it boy, swallow that fucking cock–taste the seed that made you.”

“I thought you’d never fucking ask,” Caleb said, got down and started sucking on his dad’s cock, like he had a few minutes earlier…or had he? Whatever, it didn’t matter. Terry wrapped both hands around his son’s head and started fucking his face, grunting, Caleb taking all nine inches down his throat without a single gag. Fuck, his son was such a hot lay, they were going to have to do more of this…in fact, Terry thought, it might be easier for the two of them to just share a bed from now on, and then the two of them can fuck all night long.

Caleb broke his dad’s grip and pulled up, smirking, precum clinging to his beard, “Not yet dad, I want to feel this cock of yours deep in my ass.”

“Oh fuck son, are you sure? I got a damn big tool for your first time.”

“First time? Come on dad, I’ve had half the football  team’s cocks up my ass, and I’ve fucked even more of them back. Did you really think I was going to go into my birthday without a little experience under my belt? Hell, most of the guys can’t wait until the party tomorrow–I hope you’re ready for a massive fucking orgy.”

“Aww shit boy, that sounds fucking fantastic–you know how much I love those hot teammates of yours. Well go on then, climb up here–I want to see you plow yourself on my fuckstick.”

Caleb climbed up on the bed, the mattress sagging under their combined weight, and Terry figured that he was going to have to get a new mattress for both of them this week. A bit gingerly, Caleb squatted down and started working his dad’s cock into his ass, and Terry did his best to resist the urge to grab his son’s hips and ram his cock home in one pound. Still, Caleb did good–he had had some practice, and before too long he was bouncing up and down on his dad’s cock, both of them groaning and grunting together, and Terry started working one of his big fingers under his son’s own massive foreskin, watching his boy shiver in pleasure. He started stroking it then, and Caleb didn’t last more than a minute, shooting a massive load of cum up and down his dad’s hairy chest and face, before Terry gave a roar and unloaded into his son’s ass.

Caleb collapsed onto him, the two of them rubbing Caleb’s cum between them, Terry’s cock slowly slipping out of his son’s hole as they kissed. “Happy birthday, son,” Terry whispered.

“Thanks dad, it’s the best present I’ve ever gotten.”

Terry laughed, “well just wait until you see what I’m getting you for Christmas,” he said, smirking, “You’re gonna be sore for weeks.”

Caleb laughed too, and then groaned as Terry’s cock finally popped out of his hole, his cum seeping out after it.

“Well, how about the two of us hit the shower, and then go make some dinner?” Terry said, “We’re pretty ripe after that, I gotta say.”

“Heh, I kind of like it,” Caleb said, burying his nose in his dad’s pit and taking a whiff, “Like how you smell after a hard workout.”

“Ha, you mean how I reek?” Terry said, “Come on, let’s get cleaned up.”

“No, come on, later–it’s my birthday after all.”

Terry rolled his eyes, “Oh alright, if you want me stinking like a bathhouse than so be it. I’m going to go make dinner anyway, are you coming?”

In a second–I think I have do some work in my room first,” Caleb said coyly, and got up off his dad, “I’ll be downstairs in a few minutes.”

“Alright,” Terry said, a bit puzzled, but the two of them went their separate ways in the hallway, and he headed downstairs and into the kitchen, where he opened the cabinets, and perplexed, realizing that there wasn’t much in there to eat. That was odd, since he and Caleb had to eat pretty much non-stop, day and night, in order to keep their bodies putting on weight. The sudden shock was enough to make him think back on the other strange things that had been going on since Caleb had come home from the mall, and now this? He could still remember himself down in the den, an obese, middle aged man, not this massive, muscular bear he was now. And how his son had tried to seduce him, but that wasn’t right, since they’d had sex moments later for his birthday present. Nothing seemed to line up at all, almost like he’d been stepping into different dimensions where everything was a bit different each time. Still, he was starving, so he went to the stairs and shouted up, “Hey Caleb–we’re, uh, out of food? I think we should go out, and maybe go for a shopping run after.”

He didn’t hear anything for a few moments, and then Caleb shouted back, “Uh…alright. Hmm…I’ll be down in a second.”

Terry went back into the kitchen, and stared at the empty cabinets again. Was it really all that strange? He didn’t really cook all that much, after all, but on the other hand, he knew he and his son were on a massive diet to make sure they kept packing on muscle. Nothing was making sense, or lining up quite right, almost as if he was looking at some other kitchen that wasn’t actually his.

The wave struck him from behind this time, but this time he almost welcomed it–it was a familiar sensation now, reality pressing in around him, propelling him forward, and when his head caught up to him, he was at the stove juggling the massive amount of food that he was cooking, and he looked over his shoulder at his son in the doorway–his massive, butch boy–fuck, he was so sexy with that massive pelt of hair, and that big firm gut of his. “Sorry Caleb, dinner’s not for a few more minutes. Go ahead and have a seat, and you can snack on the bread I baked earlier.”

“Sounds good dad,” Caleb said, ripping off a thick chunk of one of the baguettes Terry had baked earlier, and grinned, “Fuck it’s nice having a gourmet chef for a dad–have I ever told you that?”

“Only once or twice a day…” Terry said, and then stopped stirring his sauce for a second. Something still seemed off, but everything his son had said was right…wasn’t it? He was a chef, after all, and he had the nicest, and biggest, kitchen in the entire neighborhood, and he loved feeding both his son and himself. That’s when he actually bothered to look down, and saw that the muscled, strongman physique he’d been expected wasn’t there–instead, he just saw flab–pounds and heaps of it, a massive, smooth apron hanging down past his crotch, two huge moobs sagging there as well with massive nipples. He was naked, of course–he always cooked in the buff at home, where his son could watch him and admire him. He loved having a fat ass chef for a dad, almost as much as Terry loved being a fat ass chef, and yet…had he always looked like this?

As he worked, something about this just didn’t sit right with Terry, almost as though he wasn’t quite used to the size of his belly, but he avoided doing anything disastrous–even though he did get close to burning his moobs on some steam when he leaned over too far. He kept checking back, admiring his son, who’d already plowed his way through half the bread Terry had set out, and then he started laying out the spread. All of his son’s meals were carb and protein heavy–everything a growing boy could ever need to keep up his physique, and Caleb tore into the feast that could have easily fed ten or twelve people, including a roasted turkey Terry pulled from the oven…even though he couldn’t quite recall ever stuffing it and setting it in there to cook. Still, all the food was finally out and on the table, and Terry joined in the meal, neither of them talking, but as they ate, they kept stealing glances at each other, and Terry soon realized that gorging on his meal–and watching his son stuff himself, was turning him on big time.

“Hey dad,” Caleb said, “Could you pass the gravy?” Caleb asked, and Terry grinned. He had a better idea.

He picked up the massive gravy boat and instead of passing it, started pouring the thick sauce over his own body. “If you want it, why don’t you come over here and get it?”

Caleb didn’t need any more encouragement than that, and he tackled his father to the ground, licking him clean as Terry moaned, but that couldn’t pull them away from the table for long. Pretty soon, the two were simply standing next to the table, shoving food into each other’s gaping mouths, both of them covered in food, before long, but for some reason, Terry just couldn’t get over how amazing his son smelled–musky and sweaty, like he hadn’t showered in a few days, and he spent a lot of time licking his son’s armpits clear in between bites.

“Oh fuck son, you’re so goddamn ripe, I love that.”

“I know dad–you’re the one who asked me to stop showering. I’m good with that as long as you keep me clean.”

“Fuck yeah son, I’ll lick your salty pits and ass clean any day, you know that.”

Caleb couldn’t hold off anymore, and he pushed his dad face down on the table, lubed his cock with some spit and started fucking his dad’s ass with his ten inch cock, watching the fat ripple and jiggle, but Terry simply couldn’t stop eating. On one hand, he could never remember being this hungry ever in his life, but on another–this was what he and his son did, wasn’t it? Three massive meals a day? Hell, he was almost never out of the kitchen with the way they ate, but he loved cooking as much as he loved eating–but not as much as he loved having his son fuck his fat ass. He realized that he was getting close too, his fat apron massaging his two inch cock which he couldn’t even reach anymore, but it was enough for him to cum with a violent shudder, groaning through a mouthful of food, feeling the massive load from his big balls dribble down between his fat thighs. “Are you ready for dessert, dad?” Caleb said, panting.

“Oh fuck yeah, give it to me son,” Terry said, and Caleb pulled out, stroking his cock quick as his dad got down on his knees in front of him, and then he shot, covering his dad with another load…wait, another load? They hadn’t fucked earlier, Terry though, he’d been cooking all afternoon, and Terry knows better than to fuck which he’s cooking…but he could dimly remember fucking his son’s ass…hadn’t he? But how? His cock was too small to fuck anything–it was a good thing Terry was a power bottom, or he would have hated it. Whatever, it didn’t matter, he figured, as he scooped up his son’s massive load and shoveled it into his mouth, Caleb getting down to lick up some that he fed to his dad through some kisses. One hand snuck between his dad’s fat legs and probed his open hole with a few semen slick fingers, listening to the fat man moan and beg. “Fist me, fucking shove it all in there son,” Terry begged.

Caleb smiled, and slipped his fist in easy, Terry widening his stance as Caleb started milking his prostate, and after a couple of minutes, Terry gave another shudder and shot another load, this one dribbling down and puddling on the floor below him. “Damn dad, you have such a slutty hole.”

“Ha, only for my boy, you know that,” Terry said, kissing him, clenching on his son’s fist for a few more moments, before allowing him to pull it out. Caleb helped his dad stand shakily, and the two of them surveyed the table, finding a few bits and pieces they hadn’t finished off, but they’d eaten pretty much everything in sight, like usual.

“Alright dad, I’ll get the kitchen cleaned up–why don’t you head down to the den and relax?” Caleb said.

“Sounds good to me,” Terry said, stretching, “I need to get off my feet for a bit anyway,” he gave his son a kiss as he cleared the table, and then hobbled down the steps, careful not to trip, and settled down into his recliner, kneading his full belly and moobs a bit as he watched the food channel, trying not to drool at the food they were showing. As he sat and watched, however, doubts were beginning to creep in, which the meal and cooking had kept at bay. He was a gourmet chef, his head and memories told him that…but he couldn’t remember ever working in a restaurant, or even getting training. Just, as far back as he could remember, he’d been cooking these huge meals for his son, helping him grow big and strong…and that was good, right? But…what about that memory of him fucking his son that he’d had earlier? And…

His head was hurting again, and it felt like too many things were vying for the privilege of existing. It was better just to focus on the here and now. He’d just had a fabulous dinner with his son after all, and a real good fucking. He could relax for a bit, and start thinking about what he was going to make for breakfast. Fuck, he loved breakfast–maybe pancakes. His stomach gave a growl, and he jiggled it happily, loving the sensation of his massive body, like always. He couldn’t imagine ever not being fat…right? But hadn’t…hadn’t he worked out with his son before? No, that couldn’t be right, he’d never lifted a weight in his life. He wasn’t even sure how to do it. And he knew for sure he’d never fucked Caleb–sure, Caleb had sucked him off before, a couple of times, but in the end Terry always preferred a rough fuck from his son’s massive cock–it was just so much hotter and better–and required a lot less effort on his part. Hell, he had a hard enough time getting up the stairs, how would he ever have the energy to fuck his son?

And yet…and yet, hadn’t he laid back on his bed, his son on his big cock, both of them a bit smaller than before, and more muscular…and hairier…

Maybe it was just a dream–that seemed like the most reasonable possibility. He could hear Caleb working in the kitchen, but then he stopped suddenly and headed upstairs for a few minutes. Terry wasn’t sure what he was doing up there, but when he heard him coming back down the stairs, he sounded…bigger. Or at least heavier than usual, which was strange. From where he was sitting in his recliner, he looked up, curious, but before he could get a good look, another wave washed over him as soon as his son turned the corner at the top of the stairs.

Wait, his son? No, not his son, that was silly, that was his daddy at the top of the stairs…wasn’t it?

To be Continued