Identity Crises (Part 3)

***WARNING*** This one is even filthier than the last. If heavy scat or castration bother you, turn away.

He opened the door, and as soon as he did, he realized that he shouldn’t have. The reality wave which pushed it’s way out and over him–it was different than the others had been. More forceful, and far less wiggle room. The others seemed to have melded around him–but this one…this one simply forced its will on him, pressed down on him, contorting him and his mind until he nosed his way into the room, crawling on all fours, feeling his belly scraping across the floor underneath him as he let out a snort, and saw his master across the room.

Master–he loved him. There was no question in his mind, no doubt–just universal adoration when he looked at the ten foot tall man, naked–his body covered with grimy fur, his beard reaching his belly button, muscular and handsome and…and everything that Terry–no, not Terry, his name wasn’t Terry anymore, he was Porky, Porky was the name Master had given him, back when he’d finally enslaved him, back when his son had taken him and declared ownership of him, like Porky had always known he would.

“Get over here pig,” Caleb growled, and Porky crawled over, eager to serve, and when he came up next to him, Caleb simply said “Open,” and Porky obeyed. Opening his mouth, and allowing his master to tap the ash from his cigar into his mouth, Porky doing his best to not think about the heat of it, and just swallow it down like he’d learned. He was his Master’s preferred ashtray after all–he’d been doing it for years now, and he stayed there, mouth open while his Master surfed the internet, and all Porky could do was admire him.

Porky hadn’t always been Proky–he had been Terry once upon a time. And Master had been Caleb, his son, but Terry had always been afraid of him. His son wasn’t like him–Terry had been weak, but his son was strong and powerful, far bigger and mannlier than Terry could have ever hoped to be. He remembered all those long nights, when he couldn’t sleep because he could smell his son in his bedroom, how he’d jacked off, over and over, imaging his massive boy dominating and fucking him–enslaving him. Years ago, Terry had finally worked up the gall to ask. He’d crawled over to his son, and begged–begged for the privilege of serving him, and Caleb had agreed. He wasn’t Caleb’s father anymore–he was Porky, his pigslave. And Caleb wasn’t his son–he was only his master–all he’d ever wanted. He took another mouthful of ash and swallowed it back, taking a sniff of his son’s musk, of his shitty ass. He wondered if it needed cleaning–Porky would clean it for him. He loved cleaning out his son’s ass and eating his shit and drinking his piss and eating his cum.

That was why Caleb had made him a pig, instead of a slave. See, he’d known all about his father’s filthy interests. He’d left the toilet unflushed on occasion, just so he could listen as his father used to drink his son’s reeking piss from the bowl or eat the turds he’d left behind. He’d made sure to stash his cum soaked jockstraps for his father’s pleasure. Of course, his pigslave hadn’t felt any pleasure in a long time. He’d had his one inch cock locked up long ago–but he didn’t need to cum. In fact, he couldn’t cum–his Master had taken his balls away after five years–now, his scrotum had two half pound steel weights in it, which had successfully stretched it to the ground. That is, if he hadn’t been wearing his diaper. He’d been fucked so much my his master’s massive cock that he couldn’t close his ass anymore–and Master hated it when Porky made a mess in the house.

“Clean my foreskin, Porky,” Caleb said, and with a happy grunt, the pig worked his way under the massive desk his son had had custom made for his massive physique, and started licking under the massive foreskin his son’s foot and a half long cock had shrouding it’s head. The cheese was thick and reeked, but Porky wouldn’t have it any other way, and he snorted and squealed softly in appreciation. He was almost done with it, when Porky heard a loud fart erupt from his ass, and shit started packing its way into the back of his diaper, and he was surprised for a moment…but why surprise? He was used to shitting his diaper by now, why would he be surprised at all? And yet, part of him felt like he’d never done it before in his life, and that everything about this situation was just wrong–but how? This is what he wanted, what his master wanted. Everything was perfect…right?

One of his Master’s big feet curved around to the back of Porky’s diaper and started rubbing up and down the padded bottom, and the pig felt the shit start spreading up and down his crack and around to his caged cock, and he hoped his Master was getting horny. He’d really like to get fucked–he needed a good fuck really bad, but he knew better than to ask for one. That wasn’t what pigs did. Pigs did what their Master’s said, no matter what. They were ready whenever their Master’s wanted them to be. Still, he kept cleaning out his Master’s foreskin, and it was starting to harden–he let himself get a little hopeful.

“Pig,” Caleb said after a few minutes, “Get out of there–that nasty shit stink of yours is getting me all horny.”

Porky couldn’t crawl out of there fast enough, as as soon as he did, his massive Master stood up and ripped the diaper off of him, revealing the pig’s shitty crack and he let out a little groan, got down and worked his massive cock deep into his pig’s ass.

It had taken Porky years to feel anything beyond pain when his master fucked him, but now he was finally used to it, and took the entire shaft up to it’s ass. He could smell his shit now, and he was hungry. Thankfully, his master pushed his diaper under his belly, smearing shit all over it, before it ended up under Porky’s face, and he started licking the diaper clean, grunting and snorting the entire time as his master abused his hole.

“I have a feeling this is gonna get messy,” his Master said, “I think we’d better take this down to the basement.”

Porky felt his Master wrap his arms around his massive gut, and hefted him up off the ground, shocking Porky. He weighed close to 600 pounds now, and his Master was so strong he could pick up with no real effort. What a wonderful master he had! He was so lucky that he could serve him as his pig. With his entire cock buried up Porky’s ass, Caleb left his room and started heading downstairs, and Porky witnessed something…strange. The waves of reality he’d felt…whenever they turned a corner, he could watch them sweep out from where they were, changing the entire house as his Master moved through the house, like reality kept shifting and adjusting to his very whim. It was awe inspiring–he’d had no idea that his master was capable of something like that…and yet…

Something clicked in Porky’s head, and he realized now that this had happened to him before–not this, not being carted around on his Master’s massive cock, but he’d…changed, before. Reality had changed before, and…and Master was the cause of it? But then…maybe things shouldn’t be like this…but why shouldn’t they? He was happy, serving his Master. His Master as happy with him as his pig–why should things be different? How could things be different?

His concern was derailed as they started walking down the steps into the basement, and Porky watched the workbench and tools shift and change into a massive complex–a fully equipped sex dungeon, complete with a cage where Porky lived when his Master didn’t need him. As they walked down the stairs, the pig suddenly noticed a warmth in his ass–but it wasn’t his master cumming, was it? No, there was too much of it–he was pissing in him, filling him up with his piss, and it felt wonderful.It was no surprise then, when his Master headed for the tub–he was apparently in a dirty kind of mood. Porky loved it when his Master was feeling dirty–because Porky was always eager for filth. He was a pig after all.

Caleb hefted his pig over the side of the massive tub–a massive, converted hot tub which had had it’s drain permanently plugged with cement, and there, standing in the middle of the tub, he grabbed his pig’s meaty love handles and started fucking him up and down on his massive cock, feeling his piss run down his shaft as he fucked him, then down his hairy legs where it pooled around his feet. He shifted Porky’s angle, and started thrusting again, and the pig let out a sudden grunt as his master pummeled it’s bladder with his massive cock, and he started to piss uncontrollably, feeling it soak the underside of it’s belly, before running down it’s scrotum, which swung to and fro as his Master fucked him, and between both of their streams, the two of them managed to fill the tub up a couple of inches before they ran dry. Now though, Caleb didn’t care–the stench filling the basement was driving him to new heights of horniness, and he was fucking his pig up and down on his cock as hard as he could sweating from the exertion, Porky simply biting it’s lip and hanging on as best he could, until with a roar, he came, the massive amount of cum from his huge balls flowing out almost immediately from Porky’s entirely loose hole and joining the piss and shit already pooling in the tub, and then Caleb finally set Porky down in the tub, who immediately shoved it’s face into the messy pool, drinking up as much as he could.

Standing over him, his Master just watched the pig debase itself, and then he did something that Porky did not expect–he stepped out of the pool, shook his head, said, “No–no this is…just, not this,” and then stomped his way back up the stairs, slamming the basement door behind him. Porky didn’t know what to think for a moment, but then he realized he must have done something wrong–but what? What could be have done wrong? He’d been a perfectly good slave today…hadn’t he? Besides that time in the bathroom, when…when he’d…

When he’d told his Master no to to fuck him? No, he wouldn’t never do that, he could never do that, it just wasn’t in him. He was too weak, too small, too much of a desperate sub to ever say no to a man as big and powerful and important as his master. But he was shivering in the tub–he could clearly remember doing it, but…but how could he have? He’d been serving his master all day, like usual–they hadn’t even been in the bathroom downstairs, had they? The room was starting to spin, and it felt like…like Proky could start to see little tears happening all around the room, little tears in reality, like the walls and floor were shaking and vibrating to pieces, and he shut his eyes but the cracks were still there.

“No…No, I love my master, I obey my master, I obey, I obey, I obey, I obey…” Porky said, crouched down in the scummy tub, eyes clenched shut, repeating his mantra, and he felt the world start…healing itself again. He couldn’t even tell if it was the world which had been cracking…or just his mind. It was so disconcerting. In the end, he clambered out of the tub and crawled over to his cage, shutting the door behind him, and in the cramped, confined space he’d come to know as his home, he felt a bit more comfortable and sure of himself. Still, he didn’t move, and just stayed there, knowing he’d already broken the unspoken rule when he’d climbed out of the tub, but hopefully his master wouldn’t be too angry, not like that other time…that other…place.

Now that he was calm, he carefully started working through his head, finding other memories that just didn’t…fit. How his daddy had smoked his cock to a nub while he’d ridden his big cock. How he’d made his son a massive dinner, how they’d fucked…it didn’t make any sense, but as soon as he sensed the cracks starting to open again, he shut them all away, and just stayed in the present. The past didn’t matter–it wasn’t important. He just had to focus on being the best pig he could be, and the rest would be ok. His master would make sure of it. Everything would be ok. Now, all he had to do was wait.

His master didn’t keep him waiting too much longer–he heard a door upstairs open and close, and then…as he came downstairs, he could see the walls and ceiling…bulging out, as though reality were pulsating around him, and there were those cracks again, and Porky shut his eyes as tightly as he could, until he heard the basement door open, and then the pressure was all around him again, reality twisting and yanking and contorting him, and this time, it really was painful, like he was a piece of dough that had been kneaded so far as to become nearly inelastic, but it refused to stop. When it finally came to a stop, he was gasping for air around his thick cigar, and started taking a few deep puffs, the tobacco helping him calm down, as he tried to process what had just happened to him.

“Hey daddy bear,” his son’s voice called out from the top of the stairs, “What are you doin’ down here all alone in the dark?”

Terry felt his cock stir, and he adjusted his monstrous tool in the crotch of his pants, and looked up the stairs to where his massive son stood. God, was he even bigger than before? How was that even possible? His head struggled for context, as his eleven foot tall son thumped down the metal staircase Terry had had to put in years earlier, after his son had broken the wooden one that the house had had before…or still had…or…something. He felt like he needed to vomit–hadn’t there been…a tub here? Or had he just imagined it? The basement was equipped with every sort of dungeon tool he and his son had been able to purchase, but never a tub–why hadn’t he thought of that? Damn, that would be hot, the two of them filling it up with their piss and then wallowing in it, fuck…hadn’t they just…just done that?

“What’s up Dad?” Caleb said, “You alright?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m fine, I just…feel really strange is all.”

“Well, I bet I know what could make you feel better,” Caleb said, slipped his hands under his dad’s arms and then lifted him up into the air. The sense of powerlessness, of being lifted up by his Master–no, not master, his son, always his son, they’d always been equals…well, sure, they’d played some scenarios before, but nothing serious–

He groaned as Caleb ripped open the crotch of just old jeans with his teeth and swallowed his entire foot long cock in one go, resting his dad on the crest of his gut as he sucked him off. God, how had he, at all of five feet, managed to help conceive such a monsterous man? Not that he was complaining of course, but for some reason…none of this seemed possible, nothing seemed right–

With a twist of vertigo, Terry lost his balance and slipped off his son’s gut landing hard on the floor, his head slamming into the concrete, and he rubbed his head, checking for blood, but there wasn’t any, thankfully.

“Fuck–Dad, are you alright?” Caleb said, looming over his father.

“Yeah–yeah, I’m good, I just…just lost my balance is all…I don’t…I don’t think I can…” Terry said, but the vertigo hadn’t let up, and he leaned over and vomited onto the floor. The world, it was starting to rip again like before, and he…he couldn’t take it. He groaned and laid back, trying desperately to hold onto himself as the world threatened to rend apart, but he opened them once quickly, and saw…his son in so many different ways. Fat, old, massive, hairy–he could barely keep track of them all, and then his son had him in his arms, and was rushing up the steps, all the way to his room. He laid his Dad down on his bed, and then sat down at his computer–a specially ordered one for his massive frame–and he started typing, and then, as he finished and hit the return key, another wave rippled out, but this one was entirely different. Instead of trying to bend and twist Terry into some new shape, it felt like it was unfolding him, and as it washed over him, the nausea and vertigo disappeared–but in it’s place can a realization of what had happened over the course of the day…and he screamed.

“Dad! Dad, calm the fuck down dad!” Caleb shouted, pinning Terry down to the bed. They were still in their last forms–all Caleb had done was undo the reality conforming option on the program he’d brought home with him that afternoon, and being twice as tall as his dad, he was able to hold him down easily, not that Terry cared in the least. He kicked and fought anyway, and finally Caleb let him up and he sprinted from the room and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him, and he slumped back against the wall, just…staring at his hands. His grimy, filthy hands, and his grey beard, and his filthy clothes, and he just started stripping it all off of him in a rush. How many versions of himself had he been today? He couldn’t even keep track of them all in his head–they’d all rushed forward in a massive jumble. Who was he now? Was he actually himself, or was he just some new twisted version his son must have concocted? He stepped out of his pants, naked, and walked in front of his mirrored closet, and nearly sobbed. He…he was disgusting to look at–tattoos and piercings all over his body, missing teeth, and yet looking at himself, his massive cock started to get hard, the footlong cock that stretched down nearly to his knee he was so short, but his gut was so big that he couldn’t even see it when he craned over. He turned away before he could get anymore aroused and do something he might regret, and ran into the bathroom to run a hot shower and get clean.

There was a pounding on his bedroom door, “Dad? Dad, please–we need to talk–I can explain!”

“Stay the fuck away from me, you fucking freak!” Terry shouted, “What the fuck were you thinking! Look at what you fucking did to me!”

“Look, I know…I know I got a bit carried away, alright? I just–”

“A little carried away?” Terry shouted, “A little fucking carried away?” He stalked over to the bedroom door and flung it open, but when he saw his massive son standing there–or rather, when he found himself face to face with his son’s two foot long cock, words failed him utterly, and his anger dissolved into…pure lust. But before he let it overwhelm him, he stepped back in and slammed the door, but he could smell him, he could fucking smell his boy’s nasty funk through the goddamn door and fuck if his son wasn’t the hottest piece of man he’d ever seen!

“Dad…” Caleb said, “Dad, it’s going to be ok!”

“Stay…stay away from me Caleb, please, just change us back, please…” Terry said, but the anger was gone. He was pleading now–desperate, and he heard the knob twist, and the door start to push open, and he tried to push back, but his son was so much…stronger than he was, god, he was so…so proud of him, and from where he was sitting on the floor, looking up at his massive boy, all he wanted to do was fuck him.

“Dad, Look…I…”

Terry couldn’t even see his son’s face past his massive ball gut, but he didn’t care. He stood up, walked over and just started licking the foreskinned head of his cock, unable to resist, digging his tongue under the folds for his son’s delicious cheese, disgusted with what he was doing, but also utterly unable to contemplate doing anything else.

“Dad, you…you don’t…oh…”Caleb said, and groaned, his cock leaking precum which Terry drank down, but the flow was so heavy a good amount of it just dribbled down into his massive beard. “Dad, please…we…we have to…God damn it, that’s fucking enough!” Caleb said, stepped back, grabbed his dad and hefted him up to his eye level. “Dad, can we please just talk about this?”

“Why, son?” Terry said angrily, “You obviously just want me to be a short, nasty old daddy bear desperate for sex with his son, and now that…that I can’t fucking keep my hands off you, you fucking want me to stop? Just…just fuck me, already. Fuck me, and…and fuck, let me drink your piss, and eat…eat your goddamn shit, and–”

Caleb gave him a good shake, and said, “Enough!” Look, I know I fucked up, alright? I get it! I’d put everything back, if I could but…but…well, I kind of messed up the program…”

“What fucking program? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Caleb heaved a sigh, and fell back onto his ass, the house shuddering under his weight, and then he set his dad down on his big gut, and explained the story as best he could. He had been at the mall earlier that day, but he hadn’t been at the mall with friends. He’d been there by himself, just being a loner, when he’d spotted this new curio shop. They’d had a discount electronics section, and the shop owner had recommended this strange program to him. Caleb had thought it was a photo manipulation program–some photoshop knock off–but it had been a bit more…expansive than that. It turned out to be a program which could completely alter the face of reality, and, well, Caleb had let things get a little out of control.

“Look, Dad, all…all I really wanted was for you to be happy again, and I’d always…well, I’d always thought you were hot, so I thought, well…why not?”

Terry just glared at his son, “So you turn me into all of those…those people? For fun? That wasn’t fun, that was a nightmare!”

“I don’t know, you seemed to have enjoyed most of it.”

“Porky was not–fucking–enjoyable.”

Caleb blushed, “Yeah…I…I don’t have an excuse for that one, that one…that was a mistake.”

“No, this whole thing was a mistake. Just…just turn us back, and let’s get rid of it, and we can pretend like none of this ever happened, alright? Let’s just put everything back the way it was.”

Caleb was silent, and hung his head, “I…well, I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“Look, dad, I…I was running the program so that, however I changed myself, reality would automatically adjust itself to conform to me–that’s why, well, you probably have had a strange afternoon. But what I didn’t know, was, well, when you twist reality too much for the people around you, apparently some strange shit can happen. I mean, when we were down in the basement, you started…you flipped out. I mean, not just your screaming and stuff, but your body too. It looked…I don’t know, like it was stretching and collapsing and…and I just got scared. I got scared, so I ran up and turned off the reality adjustment, and that collapsed everything down together, but…well, I was just looking at it, and the program’s locked down.”

“What?”

“It’s locked down. I can’t change reality anymore, until it normalizes. I took a closer look, and apparently the program won’t unlock until it can purge everything from this reality that doesn’t belong. Like…like our memories, and…and that sort of thing.”

Terry just stared at his son. “Are you telling me that we’re going to be stuck like this?”

“Yeah…I mean, not for too long, like less than a day. The bar says it’ll finish sometime tomorrow morning.”

“Well, we can just change ourselves back then.”

“No, Dad, you don’t get it–we won’t remember what we were like. We won’t even remember that we’ve used the program. None of that will have happened to us…we’ll be who we are now, and it’ll be like that’s who we’ve always been…I’m…I’m sorry dad, but I’m telling you the truth. This…this is kind of who we’re stuck as.”

Terry didn’t say anything for a second, he just let that sink in. “You mean…you mean, I’m stuck as this five foot dwarf, a fucking dwarf who can’t–can’t stop thinking about how much he want’s to have…have filthy, nasty sex with his own son? His…his eleven foot tall son, who’s twice the size of me, and stinks like a fucking outhouse?”

“You don’t have to be a jerk about it, dad! I said I was sorry!”

“Well sorry isn’t going to cut it!” Terry shouted, and climbed down off of his son, “I had a life Caleb, I was…I was…”

He couldn’t remember. He focused really hard, as hard as he could, but it was like staring through a thick fog–he knew what was there, but he couldn’t see it. The more distant the change, the harder it was to see, and his old life, it was gone–he hadn’t always been gay, had he? Had…Hadn’t he? He didn’t want to be straight. that was for sure, but…wasn’t there? Sure,he loved his son…

Terry shouted, and punched the wall in anger, but it was gone–it was gone, and it wasn’t going to come back.

“Dad…Dad, look–I know this isn’t what…what you would have wanted, but we’re going to be happy at least, right?”

“Don’t you fucking say anything–nothing you say can fucking make this right!” Terry shouted at his son, but Caleb didn’t say anything back–he just reached over, grabbed his dad, and pulled him into a tight hug. “God damn it Caleb! Let me go! Let–let me..” he said, but then he was crying, and his big son was holding him tight, and everything…everything wasn’t really so bad, was it? He hadn’t wanted this, no–but he wanted it now, he wanted it…badly, and that scared him even more.

“Look, dad–I…I know I can’t make things right, but…but look, maybe I can make things better, you know? Here, come on. I can’t fix reality, but I can make some limited changes–”

“No–No more changes, I’m done.”

“Well, I was going to make you taller…” Caleb said, grinning, “But if you like being a ‘dwarf’ now, I think it’s damn sexy, myself.”

“But you said you couldn’t change anything,” Terry said, suddenly suspicious that his son might have been lying to him before, “If you can change me, why can’t you just change me–us–back?”

“Because you–the ‘old’ you–could have never existed in this reality. Even if the program let me make the change, which I don’t think it would, by tomorrow morning you’d be back to this, or something close. But, if I just make a few tweaks–some changes that this reality can absorb and integrate–then I think I can make things a bit better. So look–you tell me what I can do to make you better–this you–and I’ll do the best that I can.”

Terry just looked down, “How…How can I trust you? How can I ever trust you again, Caleb? I mean, I can’t…”

“Dad, I can’t undo what I did–if I could, I would. I never…I never meant things to get this out of hand, and I’d…I’d always thought I would just put things back the way they were, eventually. But I can’t, so…so let me make it up to you. Come on, I know you had fun some of the time…tell me what you liked best.” Caleb sat down next to his dad again, reached over and started toying with his cock.

Caleb let out a groan when his son touched him, and all he wanted to do was throw himself at his boy and just fuck, but he held back. Still, he wasn’t happy like this, really, so he might as well take advantage of his son’s offer. What had he enjoyed? How far back could he remember? He…he’d liked how it had felt being fat, actually–as the chef. He’d been massive, sure, but so…confident. How fucked up was that, that he’d actually enjoyed being huge, obese gainer? But it was true. “I…I liked being fat–actually. When I was the chef. And…and I really liked the whole…the whole smoking thing. Not being your cub, but just…smoke. And I gotta say, these tattoos are kind of sexy. Actually, it was probably most fun being that redneck daddy of yours. The accent scared me at first, but…and god, it’s so messed up, I know, but being…being this filthy, and seeing you this filthy, it turns me on so much, and you know, I actually kind of liked shitting myself as Porky, with that diaper and–” Terry blushed and stopped talking, suddenly embarrassed. “But mostly I–I’d like to be taller. Just forget the rest of what I said, I…I didn’t really mean any of that.”

Caleb just looked at his dad for a second, before he said, “You really did enjoy yourself, didn’t you?”

“Just make me taller, would you?”

Caleb grinned and said, “Sure thing dad,” and got up, smirking, lumbering into his room and sitting down at the computer, “One taller dad, coming right up–but not as tall as me,” and then under his breath added, “and…maybe a few other…small details…”

“Wait, what?” Terry asked, but before he could get closer to see what his son was doing, Caleb was already typing away, and suddenly, well, every step threw him off balance as he tried to walk, his legs thickening and lengthening with each stride, and it was all he could do to not fall over when he just stood still. Well, he was definitely taller–if his son was eleven feet, Terry probably capped out around eight, or maybe nine. It was strange seeing everything from that high up, and the sense of vertigo hung around for a few moments until he became more used to his new perspective. It was then that he realized that Caleb was still typing–and that he was still changing. His final body had been mostly muscle–and at his five foot height, he couldn’t have weighed more than 150 pounds, but that was rapidly changing. Looking down, he saw fat start bubbling up under his skin, shrouding his physique, but it didn’t stop there. His gut ballooned out, and then softened into an apron like the one he’d had in the kitchen–except bigger. Hell, he’d been one fat tub of lard then, but at his new height, he had to be over six or seven hundred pounds of blubber.

“Caleb! Caleb, I fucking told you to just make me taller! What the fuck is this–I don’t–” Terry started to say, but Caleb had already gotten up from the computer, walked over and drawn him into a deep kiss, pulling his fat body into his big gut and muscular chest, and Terry couldn’t help but just melt, especially when his son started fiddling with his big nipples, and jiggling his flab, his cock was so hard…

“Dad,” Caleb said, when they pulled apart, “Stop thinking so much. I know what you want, now quit worrying about who you were, and let me make you happy–let me…make you feel good.”

“Caleb…please…I…” Terry started to say, but his son shushed him.

“You know, I think we need to keep that mouth of yours occupied with something else, don’t you?”

Caleb sat back down at the computer, and Terry just watched him. He should stop him, shouldn’t he? And yet, he was…so damn curious, and horny, and excited. He needed something to calm him down. He reached into the front pocket of the massive overalls he was wearing, pulled out his can of chew and started packing it into his lips on both sides, his cock pulsing as he packed himself full. He fucking loved the sensation of a big lipper, and it only got better when he pulled out one of his massive, 70 ring cigars, stuck it in his mouth and lit it up, taking a massive draw, and pulling out as much spit as he could from the leaves in his mouth. “Aww, sheet yeah boy, feel’s damn fine…” he said, and he had to think about it for a second before he realized that the heavy southern drawl hadn’t been there a second before. “Fuck, ya went ‘n changed me again, didn’ ya…”

Terry knew better than to ask his son to stop what he was doing, and if he were honest–he liked what Caleb was doing, and didn’t really want him to stop. Hell, they’d been fucking each other for so long, why should he be embarrassed? He felt like that wasn’t quite right for some reason, but if he couldn’t remember a time when he and his son weren’t desperate to fuck…then was that really true anymore? Sure, maybe at some point, in some other reality, but in this one, well, in this one he was gonna be one hot stinking redneck, with the sexiest son in the whole neighborhood.

Looking down at himself, he saw that Caleb still wasn’t finished. The tattoos on his arms grew together into solid sleeves, and he watched the patterns worm their way over the rest of his body, and under his overalls. He figured that, at this point, most of his body was probably covered. His beard and hair grew out a bit further, and he pulled his thick, greying hair back into the ponytail he preferred, feeling the hair become greasy and slimy as he gripped it. Yep, apparently his boy wasn’t satisfied with his hygiene either, and before too long he just…well, stank. But it was a hot, musky, filthy stink, the kind of stink he loved, and he grinned, squirting some tobacco juice from his mouth, feeling it run down into his beard. “Damn boy, ya sure ain’t foolin’ round none.”

“Nope,” Caleb said, “I don’t think the changes will stick too much–reality will probably reassert itself by the time to program runs its course, but I figure we might as well have a little fun in the meantime, eh Pa?” Caleb stood up, and when he did, Terry say that his son wasn’t just a couple feet taller than him anymore–apparently his son had had a few changes in mind for himself too.

“Gawd damn, son, yer jus’ gonna make me feel short again,” Terry said, taking another massive draw off his huge cigar.

“Hey, you said that ya didn’t wanna be a dwarf–well ya ain’t a dwarf,” Caleb said, his own speech patterns shifting to match Terry’s, “but ya didn’ say Ah couldn’t git taller.”

Caleb was growing taller–probably to about twelve feet–as tall as the already oversized ceilings in their house. He lost a bit of his round gut, but what he lost in fat he made up for in muscle–he was becoming damn ripped, in fact. He still had a big gut, but on top of that were two massive pecs, and his biceps and thighs were making Terry’s mouth water, more tobacco spit dribbling down his beard. He didn’t seem nearly as unkempt as his father, his beard and hair were trimmed up quite a bit shorter, but damn did he reek. Not like Terry, who had a certain lazy stench of filth about him–Caleb reeked of sweat and workouts and…sex. He also gained a substantial number of tattoos, and fuck if he didn’t look like a sexy fucking beast, standing there a few feet away. Terry wondered for a moment what someone would think if they stumbled upon the two of them…but he didn’t care–he just didn’t care one lick. He just wanted to fuck his boy all night–

Terry was suddenly caught off guard by a massive fart ripping out his ass, along with something else. It caught him by surprise, when the stench of shit slammed into him, and he froze, realizing that he had just packed the ass of his overalls with a massive load of shit, and Caleb walked over, reached around with both hands, grabbed his Pa by the ass, smashing the load around as he pulled his obese father into a deep kiss. The two of them spent a few minutes chewing Terry’s tobacco between the two of them, brown spit running down both of them, as Caleb kept working the shit around in the back of his dad’s overalls until it came around the front, coating his balls and cock…and fuck if it didn’t feel amazing. He couldn’t…he couldn’t even be ashamed of it anymore, he didn’t care, it felt so good, so nasty and just so…so right.

“Piss fer me Pa, come on, soak these fuckin’ overalls a yers…” Caleb whispered, and Terry did as he requested, taking a drag off his cigar, before blasting a full load of piss into his overalls, feeling it soak into the shit, and it ran down his legs and into the rubber boots he was wearing. He could feel the shit and piss squishing between his toes, and he let out a deep groan which his son silenced with another long kiss. “You like it…don’t ya Pa?”

“Fuck son, I fuckin’ do–how fuckin twisted is that?”

Caleb chuckled, pushing all of the tobacco back into his dad’s mouth, “Not as twisted as this.” He then gave Terry a shove, and he fell back, landing on his massive ass, feeling the shit squish around with the impact, and then his son was on him, unbuckling the latches on his overalls and pulling down the front. Looking down, Terry could see his cock was coated with piss and shit, but before he really had a chance to think about it, his son was sucking it clean, deepthroating his whole, two foot long cock.

“Oh fuck yeah, boy!” Terry said, twisting and yanking at his nipples as he ground his shitty crack into the floor of his son’s room, “You fuckin’ love the taste a yer Pa’s shit ‘n piss, don’t ya? Yeah, yer just a nasty fuckin’ redneck pig like me.”

“Well, like father like son, ya know?” Caleb said, pulling off Terry’s cock, shit smeared across his face, “Ya really oughta try some a this Pa, I think ya’d love it. Here, I know jus’ what tah do.” Caleb scooted down to Terry’s booted feet, and pulled off one of his boots, still full of his  own piss, and took a whiff. “Whoo wee, Pa, ya sure do love yer rubber, don’t ya? When’s the last time ya took these off? Still, Ah think yer gonna love it, though,” Caleb said, and brought the boot up to Terry’s lips, “Open up Pa, ‘n taste yer fuckin’ filth.”

Most of it went down his fat gullet, but plenty of it washed out and down his front, where his hands rubbed it into his fatty folds, and hell if it wasn’t one of the filthiest things he’d ever tasted, his piss, shit combining with the tobacco in his mouth. When he finished, he realized he’d accidentally swallowed some of his chaw, he’d been so eager for his own waste. His son yanked off the second boot and fed that mess to his Pa as well, afterwhich Terry worked up a mighty belch. “Fuck boy, that hit the spot.”

“Ha, don’ tell me that was enough tah satisfy a big pig like you.”

“Satisfied? Hell nah, I could put away plenty more where tha’ came from!”

“Oh is that so, Pa?” Caleb said, grinning, “Well, it just so happens I might have some more…if you want it.”

Looking up at his massive son, over twice as tall as a normal man now, Terry tried to get a grip on himself, but it felt like the entire universe was just spinning out of his control. Of course he wanted to eat his son’s shit–and he quickly realized, it’s not like this would be the first time. He tried to remember that he hadn’t always been this fat ass redneck, but it was easier to remember that he and his son had been each other’s toilets for years now, and they both fucking loved every second of it. Worse–or perhaps better–he couldn’t even be ashamed of it anymore. “Fuck yeah, show me what ya got fer Papa, boy,”Terry said, letting himself smile, his gut giving a hungry rumble of eagerness.

Caleb dropped the grimy gym shorts he was wearing, and saw his son had on one of his filthiest jockstraps, and he gave a little moan when the stench hit his face. Caleb straddled his dad’s chest and shoved the stinking piss, cum and shit stained mesh into his father’s mouth and nose, grinding it back and forth, and said, “You wanna be my big piggy toilet today, Pa? You want me to cram a big load a shit down yer fuckin’ throat?”

Terry wasn’t listening, he was chewing at the jock and his son’s massive bulge, his cock even larger than his erect two foot tool beneath his big fat gut. He didn’t care anymore. He loved his son so much…especially the massive logs of shit Caleb proceeded to feed his father, making sure of overload him faster than he could swallow, to give Caleb some to lick out of his filthy beard afterwards–but not before his father had worked both of his fists up his hole, milking his prostate until he’s shot a gigantic wad all over his father’s fat gut. Still, the two of them were insatiable, and as the timer on the computer continued to count down, and their memories of their previous identities continued to dwindle, the two of them kept on, fucking, feeding, fisting, pissing, shitting and licking the night away, until they’d finally collapsed, exhausted, on the floor of Caleb’s room, and cuddled each other to sleep in their own filth.

The next thing Terry knew, he was stretching in his son’s oversize bed in his room, worming his way out of his son’s grip and pulling himself off his son’s big dick which had mysteriously snuck its way up his ass sometime in the night. The bed underneath him was sopping wet, but he was used to that–both he and his boy had a habit of wetting and shitting the bed in the night, not that either one of them would have it any other way. He sat up and stretched, feeling the dry shit on him crack as he did, and he stood up, giving his hole a scratch and licking off the scum his fingers pulled away. Waddling over to the mirror, he took a look at himself–he could still distantly remember that he hadn’t always been like this, but it was simply an abstract fact–he had no actual memories of his prior identities.

He was shorter than the night before–reality must have not liked him being that tall. Still, he was bigger than the five feet he’d started out with, but had probably dropped back to about seven. He hadn’t lost a pound of fat though, and on his shorter physique he was absolutely massive now, and so fucking sexy, slathered with shit…He reached around in his flab but couldn’t get a good grip on his cock, and gave up in a huff, looking back at his massive, slumbering son. He could fuck his hole of course…but maybe it would be better to let him sleep a bit more. Caleb could be such a bear in the morning, but taking his Pa’s piss and shit down his throat usually improved his mood considerably. That, and a few cups of strong black coffee. Terry let him slumber and lumbered over past the computer and jiggled the mouse, before sitting down at the desk and looking at the program which had made such a mess of everything.

There was a timer in the corner–it had about five minutes left. He took a few moments to stuff a whole can of chaw in his mouth and light up a cigar, before watching as the clock ticked away the rest of his alternate pasts, wondering if he should feel sad about losing them. But why should he? He was happy–his son was happy. However they might have been before didn’t matter to him all that much, in the grand scheme of things, and by the time the clock elapsed, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was contemplating anymore, as the final, fleeting sensation that things might have been different were erased, and then a window popped up, alerting Terry that the reality synchronization had completed, and that full functionality had been restored to the program.

Terry closed that window…and then smiled, and started looking around the program. There was a lot to it, and a lot that he could do with it…and he realized, that there was nothing stopping him. Eager now, his cock hard, he started making changes to his profile and his son’s, but as he was about to activate the changes, he paused. Something told him that he should wait, and let his son look at it too–they needed to do this together, it was too big to surprise someone with. Still, Terry had something else he could use to surprise his son.

He went over to where his son was still snoring, the covers off, and got down next to his ass, licking his lips, and started cleaning out his son’s hole, listening to him moan and mutter as he slept, and just as he was sleepily coming to, his dad stood up and worked his cock into his ass. “Aw fuck, Pa!” Caleb groaned as Terry drove the entire two feet length into Caleb’s ass, “Ain’t it a bit early?”

“It’s nearly noon, son!” Terry said with a chuckle, gripping his cigar in his teeth, “and ya know how Ah git when Ah’m horny, not come on and open up.” Caleb let his Pa fuck his hole, somewhat begrudgingly, given how sleepy he still was, but after Terry came, he was nice enough to give his boy a blowjob and swallow his load of morning piss too. “Alright son, now come ‘ere, I got somethin’ tah show ya.”

Terry had Caleb sit down at the computer, and then showed his son the changes he’d planned while Caleb was asleep. Caleb was at first a bit skeptical, but as his dad explained it, and as his cock got harder, he was finding less and less objectionable about what his dad was suggesting. Still, he had a few changes he wanted to work in first.

“Ya sure ya wanna go through with this, Pa?” Caleb asked, as they put the finishing touches on the changes, “Ah don’t think this is gonna be reversible.”

“Ah don’t give a flyin’ fuck–this is gonna be so god-damn hot!” Terry said, sucking on his cigar, “Ya done with yer changes yet?”

“Hold yer horses, this is…kinda delicate, ‘n ya weren’t all that careful when ya did it the first time.”

“Ha–’delicate.’ Ain’t nothin’ delicate ‘bout what’s gonna happen here today.”

Caleb laughed, and looked over the screens of the computer again. “Alright, Ah think it’s ready. I made sure it’ll load from the cloud too–cause Ah don’ think the computer’s gonna survive this.”

“Whatever–turn it on and let’s git this show on the road!”

Caleb looked at the computer, and couldn’t believe that they were about to do this, but why the hell not? And then he hit the ok button, and felt himself start to grow, but faster than usual.

“Shit–this is gonna hurt, ain’t it?” Terry said, and Caleb looked over at his dad, and saw that between the two of them they were rapidly filling up the bedroom.

“Well you’re the one who didn’t want to turn on the reality adjuster!”

“Well, then it wouldn’t have been a surprise tah everyone else! Come on, we’d better git outside, if we can!”

Caleb hurried out of the room and down the stairs, and barely squeezed his way out of the front door as he grew too big to fit, but his dad was too slow with all of his flab, and by the time he reached the living room, he was too big to fit through.

“Aww shit, yeah, this is gonna hurt…” Terry said, as his bulk quickly filled the living room, breaking furniture and pushing against the walls of the room.

“Hold on Pa, I’ll help ya!” Caleb said. He was taller than the first story now, and he picked up the family car–amazed that his strength was already enough for it to feel like a heavy dumbbell in his hands, and started slamming it into the upper story of the house, and then into the floor, opening up a big enough hole that his dad could work his way to standing. Together, they demolished the house as they grew, and before long Terry was free, the side of the house was little more than rubble, and the two of them were still growing. By the time they were finished, Caleb had grown to six stories tall–more than twice as tall as their house had been–and Terry maxed out at four stories–shorter than his son, but still massive. Terry looked around at what had been a sleepy neighborhood on a Sunday morning, but hearing the commotion, people had piled out of their doors, and now stood gaping at the two giants where their neighbor’s house had been.

Smiling, Terry grabbed one of the trees from their backyard and uprooted it, rolling it between his hands. As he did, the wood shifted in pattern until it formed itself into a massive cigar, and with a snap of his fingers, it lit up, and he took a deep draw on it, exhaling a massive plume of smoke which settled about the two of them like a fog. He made a second one and handed it to his son, and soon enough they were both pumping out a massive amount of smog. “Well son, let’s head downtown. I think we need tah introduce ourselves tah the community.”

“Sounds like a plan tah me, Pa,” Caleb replied, and together, the two thundered off through the streets.

***

Wellington wasn’t a large town, but it was relatively peaceful, especially on a Sunday. Many of the stores that lined the main street had just opened a few hours ago, and business had been slow so far. Still, it started out as a beautiful morning, but around noon, the strangest thing happened–a massive wall of fog started working it’s way into the small town. People who were outside were the first to be affected, and as soon as it swept over them and they inhaled it, they discovered that it wasn’t fog at all–but smoke.

Several people called the fire department, and a few described the smoke as smelling not like a burning building–but like a cigar. It was soon after that the people first exposed to the fog started to change. It affected the women first, usually a few minutes after exposure, as they were suddenly struck by a crippling pain, their breasts disappearing as their bodies changed, their vaginas sealing up as their cliotori expanded into new, massive penises. Men, however, were affected too, most of them developing copious amounts of body hair, their beards growing out of control as well. A few experienced a sudden shift in age as well–often into middle age or even beyond. This was seen most commonly in teenagers and children, as they rapidly aged into their forties and fifties, their personalities and minds changing along with their bodies.

The fire trucks roared past this chaos and deep into the fog, and so the firefighters were the first to be hit with the second smell. It was something between a filthy locker room, day old sneakers, and sweaty towel–the most powerful, overwhelming musk any of them had ever smelled. It forced itself on them, and as the smoke started changing them, the found themselves growing hornier. The truck came to a halt as the driver started ripping at his uniform, desperately trying to get to his cock, but before he could start jacking off, the man next to him, his beard reaching down to his chest, leaned over and started sucking him off. The men found it impossible to think about anything beyond sex, their minds slowly draining away as the stench drifted into town.

As the people recovering from the changes the smoke wrought smelled–and saw–what was happening, the men of the town being turned into sex-crazed beasts, they started to run away from the sirens towards the other side of town, hoping to escape the musk and the smoke, but after a few blocks–on the other side of the train tracks–they found themselves faced with a different monstrosity–a giant man, hugely obese and stinking of filth, stood in their way, straddling the main street, and before any of them could turn and run back in the other direction, they watched the giant smile, squat, and then shit several massive piles of filth into the middle of the street.

The stench was horrific, but the men found themselves unable to turn away. In fact, they found themselves growing hungrier, the more they smelled it. The weaker willed among them almost immediately gave a few snorts and then charged towards the muck, devouring as much of it as they could, as quickly as they could, but in the end the men started swarming into the shit, all of them starved for it, desperate for it, and as they ate, they began to change one again.

It started out as weight gain, fat packing onto them faster than any of them could have ever imagined, coupled with some growth as well–most of them averaging at about a story tall, with some of the first ones several feet taller. Their human features had twisted–their feet and hands becoming hooved trotters, tusks emerging from their now snouted faces, their eyes feral, perverted and starved for lust. The giant sat down and his minions swarmed over him, licking his body clean of any filth they could find, and with a sigh he let loose a fountain of piss, his pigmen fighting over the stream, thirsty as could be, and desperate to serve their new master.

On the other side of town, the men lost to the stench of musk found their minds becoming duller and duller, and many of them didn’t even notice when the huge, muscular giant strode past them, his massive cock half hard and dribbling a torrent of precum. That–however–they did notice, the smell of fresh cum drawing them like flies. The men drank it down, growing hairier, muscular and muskier as they did, their bodies almost devolving into some sort of beastly form, fanged and clawed and ferociously horny. They fought with each other over it, and the giant stood over them, milking cum from his cock, feeding his beasts, until one of them latched onto the head, drinking more than the rest–becoming the pack’s alpha. It roared at the massive giant, ready to challenge it for control, but before it could attack, the massive man sprayed all of the beasts down with a massive load of piss. They fell back then, immediately subservient after being marked by their master, and came forward, serving him, licking away his sweaty musk and serving his cock and his hole eagerly.

When the town had been emptied of people and divided between the two giants, they met in the middle, their hordes following close behind, and tackled each other to the ground, kissing and grinding their massive bodies together in the street, their hordes swarming on and around them. It was a day later when the two of them finally pulled apart, their hordes exhausted and sleeping all over the ruins of the town, and Caleb and Terry looked at each other and smiled.

“Hey, Burisburg is just a few miles down the road–wanna do it again?”

“Sounds awesome to me–can’t wait!”

Identity Crises Part 2

Commissioned by Scot158f

***WARNING*** This has been pretty cleanish up until now, but it’s only going to get worse from here. In this section: inanimate TF (smoke related), farting, and scat.

Terry watched the eight foot tall man tromp down the stairs, his hair mostly grey, a massive, tangled beard stretching all the way down to his belly button, the rest of his body covered in grey hairs as well. He had a massive, taut get, but the rest of his body was packed full of muscle…and as he came downstairs, Terry caught a whiff of his daddy’s musk and felt a shiver and moan rip through him. He loved how his daddy smelled after one of daily workouts, it was the best.

“Hey son,” Caleb asked, “Whatcha watchin’?”

“Just cartoons,” Terry said, and he looked at the TV, a bit surprised. Sure, he was a teenager, but he still liked watching them, right? Then why had he expected it to be some show about food? It was strange, that was for sure. “Are you done with your workout?”

“Sure am–nice and musky, just how you like me, boy. You want my jock?”

“Aww hell yeah dad,” Terry said, “You know I’ll never turn down your stinking jockstrap.”

“Heh, well, I’ll trade you my sweaty jock for a smoke, boy. Get ready, would ya?”

“Sure thing!” Terry said, and got out of the recliner, but his body just felt odd. He was chubby, like always, but shouldn’t he be…well, fatter? And something about his cock and balls, they were…heavy for some reason, and…hard? He reached down out of curiosity, and peered over his small, soft gut and just gaped at his cock and balls–his cigar and pipes, he meant, of course. He didn’t have a cock and balls like his dad…which was…weird, right? Instead he just had a cigar jutting out from his crotch–a long one, almost nine inches, and below that, swinging heavily and clacking into each other, two massive pipes…but that was how things had always been right?

No…No this was too much. This was all too much, and he pushed back against the wave in his mind, but it was too hard, too all encompassing. He knew this was wrong, that this wasn’t how things should be. He didn’t live with his daddy…he…he was the daddy. And he had a normal cock, and it was small, or was it big? And he’d been–fatter? Thinner? More muscular? But older, definitely older.

“Boy, get smokin’–I ain’t got all night,” Caleb said from where he was sitting in his chair, and Terry blushed, rushing over to his smoking stuff, his worries forgotten in the sudden fear that he might disappoint his dad somehow. He walked over and started packing his pipes full of tobacco, the sensation of the wood and briar both familiar and…so strange. Would it hurt…when he lit his pipes and his cigar? Of course not, it had never hurt before, right? But how would he know–he’d never done this before, but if he’d never done this before, how was he packing his pipes so well, and so evenly, tamping the tobacco down carefully, making sure he could pull an even draw from his lungs once he’d lit them? Still trying to understand what was happening, he walked over to where his dad was lounging back, his jockstrap off, his ten inch cock erect in the air, and before Terry even realized what was happening, his dad had picked him up–all of him, and was dropping him down on his cock. He opened his ass like he’d been trained to, letting all ten inches slide up his ass, making him shiver, and as it did, he saw his cigar grow a bit, like it always did when he was horny.

“Oh fuck dad, that feels so good…” Terry moaned.

“Oh yeah? Well go ahead and smell this jock of mine, and tell me what you think,” he said, and pressed the wet mesh into his son’s face, watching him take it in his mouth and suck some of the sweaty grime off of it, the boy’s cigar cock growing a bit longer still, now about a foot in length, jutting up between them. “Yeah, that’s it–now how about we get you lit?”

Caleb picked up a big zippo off the table next to him, and started with his son’s cigar cock, lighting the end until it had a bright red tip, and then worked on his bowls, the smoke already pouring out of his son’s mouth by the time he had them both lit–and then he locked lips with Terry, the jock caught between them, and he inhaled, drawing the smoke up through his son’s body and into his own through the mesh, cigar burning bright orange as he sucked it down, and the same with his boy’s pipes.

“Mmmm…” Caleb said, when he finally pulled away, “Now that’s a nice smoke.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Terry said, “Your jock isn’t so bad either.”

Caleb laughed, and pulled his son close, taking one of his son’s meaty nipples between his teeth and sucking more smoke out through that, feeling his son gasp and clench his big cock with his ass, and he took a moment to admire his boy’s body. He was growing up to be a beautiful cub–not a furry or muscular as his dad, but with a nice chubby gut and moobs, and a hot set of junk, which Caleb used at every opportunity. He leaned in and took another drag off his son’s other nipple, chewing on his nipple a bit and making Terry groan, before exhaling the smoke into Terry’s mouth, filling him to the brim with it.

They stayed like that for a long while, Terry impaled on his dad’s cock the entire time. Caleb would take a long drag off his son’s cock, and relax back, letting his son spend a few minutes cleaning off his sweaty body, the heat of the pipes and cigar resting between them. As Terry’s cock burned down further and further, Caleb started spitting into his hand, lubing it up with the cooling ash and spreading it up and down his body and his cub’s, streaking them both black, and then Terry would lick it off, hungry for the smoke and anything it made. As horny as Terry was though, his cigar cock couldn’t grow as fast as his dad smoked it, but he did his best to keep it as big as he could.

As his daddy smoked him down, the worries and concerns which Terry had been wrestling with seemed to diminish slowly. This–this here–was important, not those imagined things. Being smoked by his dad, fucked on his massive cock, cleaning off his sweaty body like a good boy–those are what mattered more than anything else in the whole world. His dad was getting more and more excited, and started working his cock around in his ass, and then he wrapped his massive hands under his armpits and started fucking Terry up and down on his massive cock. The sensation of being powerless in the hands of his daddy–it was turning him on so much, his cigar was growing almost as fast as it was burning, and smoke was pouring out of his mouth and tits now. “Oh fuck dad, oh fuck! Fill me up, pump your boy full of your daddy seed!” Terry moaned.

“Oh yeah boy, burn that fuckin’ cigar down–I don’t want anything left but a fucking nub!”

With a shudder, Terry came, smoke gouting out of his mouth, and Caleb locked lips with him, inhaling as much of it as he could, his son’s sweet smoke pushing his own cock over the edge, and he pumped his load into Terry’s hole, his ass milking him as dry as he could, the cigar, now less than an inch long, burning out between their bodies, the pipes below empty as well. Still, Caleb took a few moments to suck his son dry, getting as much smoke out of him as he could, and then he let Terry pull himself up off his softening cock, and get down.

“Thanks son, that was a real nice smoke,” Caleb said, and then hefted himself up off the chair, and stretched. “Damn, I think I’m too old for this,” he said with a chuckle.

“Ha, you’ll never be too old for me,” Terry said, and gave him a hug. He only came up to his massive dad’s chest, but when the big man wrapped his arms around him too, he’d never felt so safe and secure in his whole life, especially since his wife had left him.

Wife? Wait…no, his…mom?

When Terry pulled away, he realized he didn’t know if he had a mom, and he looked up at his dad, and asked, “Dad, who…who was my Mom? I don’t…” The look of surprise that crossed his dad’s face seemed strange to Terry, almost like he hadn’t even been expecting the question. And why would he, really? It was a stupid question, wasn’t it? He just…didn’t have a mom. That was normal, wasn’t it? “I–I’m sorry, just forget I asked.”

“No! No, uh…don’t worry about it. Look, I have to go do something upstairs for a bit, but then I’ll come back down, and we can talk about it, alright? Why don’t you just get your pipes cleaned out?”

“Sure, dad,” Terry said, and blushed as his dad’s big hand tousled his hair.

The big man tromped off and squeezed his way up the stairs, and Terry thought he heard him say something as he left, “Man, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a dad–that was way harder than I thought. Being old kind of sucks–I don’t know how he does it. Still, it’s better than being a teenager.”

Terry just watched him go, wondering what in the world he was talking about. But those creeping doubts came back, and when he reached down and knocked the last bit of ash from his cigar, and worried for a minute that he’d destroyed his cock–but that was silly. All he had to do was get horny, and it would grow back, like always. Always–had it always been like this? Had he always been a teenager, with his big manly dad? With pipes and cigars where his cock and balls ought to be?

It took Terry a second to realize that he was having a panic attack–nearly hyperventilating–and all he wanted to do was run upstairs and find his daddy and make sure everything was ok, but he got a grip on himself, and walked over to his smoke gear, and focused on cleaning himself out, knocking the ash out of the bowls of his pipes, before running big pipe cleaners through them, shivering a bit. He wished he wasn’t so ticklish, but it just felt so strange, running the fuzzy wires up his pipes. It took quite a while for him to get it all clean, and he was just about done with his second pipe, when he heard his dad coming back downstairs. Good, maybe they could talk–Terry had…some questions for him, and he really wanted some answers.

The reality wave hit him again as his son turned the corner, but he barely even noticed it. One second he was cleaning out one of the big pipes stuck to his crotch, and then the next he had the pipe up in his hand. The sudden shift caught him off guard, and he just stared at it for a second, then at himself. Hell, he was normal sized–he wasn’t a short cub anymore–in fact, he seemed to be about seven feet tall now, and the sudden vertigo caught him off guard, as he wobbled a bit, rebalancing to counterbalance his massive gut with his fat ass. Wait, he was fat again? Wait, fat…again? And a cub?

It had happened again, he was sure of it now–things were changing, but how? Why? He looked down at himself, but everything seemed right…didn’t it? The brief moment of clarity was already gone, and he couldn’t hold onto any of what had just happened–this was how he’d always looked. His massive gut ganging down past his waist, several inches falling down below the food and ash stained wife beater he wore all the time, and he reached around and gave his ass crack a good scratch where it popped up over the top of his ratty boxers, and then itched one of his hairy pits for good measure. What had he been thinking about again? He shrugged his shoulders and went back to packing his pipe, and as he did, let off a big belch.

“Hot damn Pa, that was a good one. Taste as good comin’ up as it did going down?” Caleb asked, picking a cigar out of a humidor, before biting off the end and lighting it up.

“Ha, sure as hell did,” Terry said, and then looked a bit puzzled, when he heard the deep twang of his own voice, “What in tarnation…” he muttered, trying to figure out what had happened to his voice.

“What’s up, Pa?”

His son had it too, but he hadn’t noticed…but why should he have? It was normal for a son to talk like his Pa, right? Where else would he have picked it up? “Nah, nothin’, just bein’ thick I guess. Ya know yer Pa, I ain’t too bright.”

“Ha, that’s alright, ‘cause yer damn sexy,” Caleb said, taking a deep drag off his cigar.

Terry went back to packing his pipe, and tried to remember what had been bothering him, but couldn’t find it. His head just wasn’t quite working fast enough to keep up with what was going on, but hell, it didn’t matter–he was just horny! He lit his pipe still chuckling, when he let loose a loud, wet fart that surprised both he and Caleb. “Well damn,” he said, “Guess it needs tah come outa both ends, eh son?”

“Sounds like it,” Caleb said, walking over and wrapping his big arms around his Pa and taking a deep sniff of the air. “Damn, it’s a hot, stinky one too–I fuckin’ love those.”

His son still was the same size as his dad had been–wait, his dad? No, he was…well he was big, that was all that mattered. Big, and hairy, and musky…Terry growled low and started grinding his big ass into his son’s legs–feeling the bulge of his son’s cock pressing into his flabby back, as Caleb grabbed both his flabby tits in his massive hands and started squeezing them. His boy wasn’t relly a “boy” anymore, Terry knew. Hell, he hadn’t been a boy in years now. At 27, he was one hot bear, and Terry was just happy to have him in his life. They’d been fucking for so long Terry didn’t think they would ever be apart–he could still remember their first fuck on his son’s eighteenth birthday–that had been one special fucking day. He was so happy to have a son as gay as he was. He reached around and gripped his son’s beard–he was too short to reach much else, and pulled him closer. “Ah fuck son, ya sure know how tah git yer Pa ragin’ horny.”

“Oh yeah? Well ya know what I want Pa?” Caleb asked, “I want a taste a this big, fat ass of yours.” Caleb set his cigar off in a nearby ashtray and shoved his hand down the back of his dad’s boxers.

“Fuck…aww damn boy, ya sure? It’s pretty filthy back there…”

“Just how I like it,” Caleb said, yanking down the back getting down on his knees. He kneaded his dad’s wide ass a bit and then spread the cheeks and started rubbing his greasy, tangled beard up and down his dad’s crack, listening to the fat man moan. Terry leaned forward, bracing himself against the wall and spread his legs apart, still puffing on his pipe, giving Caleb better access to his crack, and felt his son’s tongue start cleaning out his sweaty crack, probing up his shithole, and he moaned, feeling his own large cock start pressing up against his gut.

Again, Terry found himself distracted. Big cock? He hadn’t had a very big cock last time he was this big? Last time? What last time? He’d always had a cock this size…right? Or had he…had he had a tiny cock before? No, he’d always had a cock this size, this big foot long cock. Yeah, a massive foot long cigar sticking out between his legs. How else was he supposed to fuck his son, with this big gut in the way? Yeah, he might not be smart, but he more than made up for it downstairs. Caleb sometimes joked that he did a better job of thinking with his cock than with his head, and he was probably right. Thinking with his cock was a whole lot more fun too.

“Aww yeah son, that feels so good…git that tongue up there.”

“Fuck dad, yer hole’s so fuckin’ nasty–I love it,” Caleb said, and he groped for his cigar, took a deep drag off of it, anf then locked lips with his dad’s hole, pumping his ass full of smoke, the warm air making Terry shiver. He did it a few more times, pumping Terry good and full, and then, when Terry couldn’t hold any more, he bore down, a loud, long, smoky fart streaming right into his son’s face, who inhaled as much of it as he could.

“Aw fuck…fuck that’s nice…” Terry said, smelling it himself, “Yer smoke gives me the best goddamn gas, boy.”

“Sure as fuck does, I fuckin’ can’t get enough of it.”

Terry grinned. “I know somethin’ else a pig like you can’ git enough of,” he said, and stood up, stepping out of his boxers and plopping down into his recliner, putting it up so his feet were level with his son’s face, “Go on, I know how much mah filthy feet turn ya on, boy.”

With Caleb on his knees in front of him, Terry was oddly struck by just how…big his son was. He was big, like…just really damn huge. Even on his knees, his face was still level with Terry where lounged in the recliner, and he had to hunch down to press his nose between his dad’s toes and take a good whiff of the nasty funk that had built up there. Wide too–his son was so big they’d had to keep building out the doorways as he grew up. Even now, he had to fit through them sideways, or else his shoulders would get stuck. It was lucky their house had ten foot ceilings, but he had the curious thought that his son still wasn’t done growing, even though he was probably one of the biggest men on the planet. He was definitely one of the hairiest too–his entire body was covered with curly brown body hair, which was usually matted down with sweat and grime, since he worked out close to eight hours a day. Still, Terry didn’t mind–he loved his sweaty, filthy boy, and when they went to bed, he’d usually give him a nice long tongue bath, before his son took his turn, licking the sweat from between his fatty rolls…

Terry groaned as Caleb ran his big tongue up the sole of his foot and then started sucking on his toes. In his recliner, Terry tensed up for a moment, and then let loose another fart, the stink wafting out right into his son’s face, and the look of desire that shot across it and he smirked. “God, I can’t believe I raised ya tah be such a damn stinkhound.”

“Well, yer so fuckin’ nasty dad, what else would I have grown up tah be?” Caleb said, “Hey dad, ya know, why don’t ya wear those big boots ayers fer the rest of the weekend? Even when yer fucking sleepin’? Then I can clean ‘em out and yer nasty feet too on Monday, after ya git home from work.”

Work. Where did he work again? Wasn’t it…wasn’t it doing like…cooking or a chef? No that wasn’t it, where in the hell had he gotten that idea? He was a forklift operator at a warehouse–sitting on his ass all day in the hot building–his son loved how nasty and sweaty he was after a long day of work, and his booted feet would be absolutely howling by the time he took them off. Just imagining his son sucking on his grimy feet after a long day of work was enough to raise his big cock to over half mast, and Caleb reached up and wrapped one hand around it, so he could worm a finger under his thick foreskin and collect the cheese, which he then smeared on Terry’s feet before licking away.

“Alright dad, I think yer good ‘n clean. I got somethin’ I wanna try though,” Caleb said, standing up to his full height, “Now don’t move, I want tah see if this’ll work.”

Terry watched as Caleb walked around to the side of the recliner, and then in one fluid motion, kicked his foot over so he was straddling the entire recliner, his ass towards his dad’s face. “What’cha doin’ boy?” was all Terry had time to ask before Caleb reached down and yanked on the lever, the chair ratcheting back and slamming Terry’s fat face between his son’s muscular, sweaty ass.

He didn’t have time to breathe, and as soon as he was firmly planted, Caleb let loose with a fart of his own right in Terry’s face, and he gulped it down, his ten inch cock now absolutely rigid, and Terry was lapping up the gunk from his son’s crack and probing down the hole with his tongue, listening to Caleb moan, relishing the sensation of being slammed up his son’s ass.

Then Caleb bent over at his waist, and Terry felt him start sucking on his cock, and the dual assault was enough to send shivers all over his body. It felt like his head just shut down, and all he could think about was how hot it was to clean out his boy’s crack while he got his big cock sucked off. The ten inch monster would have been rough for a normal person, but Caleb’s throat was as big as the rest of him, and he took it without a single gag. Terry waited until he had his face against the base of his cock before he let off another giant fart, listening to Caleb groan in stinky pleasure, and his son followed suit, sending him another fart of his own right into Terry’s face.

Terry was close, and Caleb could tell–his father’s big cock was gushing precum like it always did when he was about to shoot. Terry started to shake, his fat belly jiggling and shuddering as he came, burst after burst of jizz shooting into his son’s mouth, and he swallowed all of it down, and then when he finally relaxed, he let out another massive fart…except it wasn’t just a fart this time.

Terry felt the shit squirt out of his ass and squish between his cheeks as he tried to hold it back, but he wasn’t able to do anything about it, because he was still trapped between the chair and his son’s ass. He groped for the lever and was able to push himself back so he was free, and Caleb unstraddled himself from the recliner, and then took a sniff and said, “Damn that one was stinkier than usual.”

Terry just blushed, and without saying anything, raised the recliner back up and hefted himself out of the chair, and when Caleb saw the brown streak on the chair, he realized what must have happened, and he just looked shocked. Terry didn’t notice, he had waddled off immediately, unable to believe he’d lost control like that, and hurried into the downstairs bathroom, where he lumbered over and sat down on the toilet, unable to believe he’d just shat all over his favorite chair. The same damn chair his dad had fucked him on, and smoked his cigar cock…right?

Terry tried to figure out where that memory had come from, but he just couldn’t. It didn’t make any sense at all. I mean…Caleb had been…his dad? And he’d had a cigar and pipe…

His head was hurting, but instead of retreating, he pushed in further, trying to separate out what had happened to him over the last few hours. He could…remember cooking dinner, but his son hadn’t been as big, and fatter. And before that, upstairs, hadn’t they…fucked? But none of those things actually seemed real–what was real was his massive, hairy and filthy redneck son, and he, his fat, sweaty equally filthy redneck dad…right?

He did his best to wipe his ass, but gave up pretty quick–he was just too big to reach around well enough, and why was he so embarrassed by what had happened? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d shat himself on accident–he and his son were trading farts so often that things had a way of slipping out on occasion, he thought with a chuckle. But then why couldn’t he ever remember doing it in the past?

“Hey Pa,” Caleb said, knocking on the bathroom door, “You alright in there?”

“Yeah,” Terry said, jus’ cleanin up.”

“Oh…” Caleb said, and after a pause said, “You…you uh, need any help?”

“No Caleb, I got it,” Terry said.

Then, the bathroom door opened anyway, and Caleb was there in the doorway, a grin on his face that Terry didn’t like the look of…and a massive hard on sticking straight towards Terry. “You sure? I think I know how to help out.”

Before Terry could do anything, Caleb had grabbed him by his fat gut, swung him around, and bent him over the bathroom counter, before slamming his cock up his dad’s ass. “Caleb! What the fuck, I’m not in the fuckin’ mood boy!”

Caleb, however, wasn’t listening, he was just fucking, and from the look on his face…he was down right enjoying the sensation of fucking his dad’s still shitty hole, and all Terry could feel was..disgust. “Caleb! Caleb, get the fuck off of me!” He screamed, and shoved himself back against his big brute of a son, who stumbled back, his shitty cock coming free of his dad’s hole.

“What the hell dad? What the fuck’s up with ya?”

“I fuckin’ said no, boy!” Terry hollered, “Now git up in yer goddamn room!”

“Why the fuck should I?” Caleb shouted back, “You’re not the fuckin’ boss a me!”

“I am yer father, boy, ‘n if I git anymore fuckin’ lip from you, yer gonna fuckin’ regret it.”

The two men glared at each other for a moment, before Caleb relented, and left the bathroom, squeezing his way up the staircases to his room, and slamming the door behind him, and then Terry let himself collapse to the floor. He honestly hadn’t expected him to stop–and Terry knew that his son was big enough that if he’d really wanted to keep going–he would have. Fuck, Caleb hadn’t always been like that, what happened to the sweet chubby loner he’d been when he was a teenager? Now, he was this hulk in his mid-twenties, still living with his dad–he needed a damn job, and a life!

Something he’d thought stuck out to Terry though–Caleb hadn’t been a chubby teenager–he hadn’t been chubby ever in his life. But still, he had a…clearish image of a son–his son, sweet hairless face, pudgy body, on the short side…but he couldn’t actually say when the image was from, because…well, it had never happened, right?

No, it had happened–it must have. But when? Again, Terry found himself looking through these impossibly tinted glass walls at the edge of his vision, like if he could turn his head fast enough and squint, he’d see something different, some other reality than his own, just as real as his…but impossible to access. But this wasn’t really right was it? He hadn’t always been this fat, filthy redneck, had he? Fuck, he needed a smoke. He got up and returned to where he’d set his pipe, finding it had gone out, and he relit it. He didn’t sit in the recliner, but just paced the room, puffing his pipe, wondering what to do about Caleb.

They needed to set boundaries–he needed to reassert himself as the father here. Sure, he loved having sex with his son–of course he did, but if he said no…well, Caleb had to respect that. There just weren’t any ifs, ands, or buts about that. And he needed to get a job–no more working out all day every day. And he needed to start picking up after himself, he figured, looking around at the cluttered den–the place was a sty. Sure, neither he nor Caleb were the cleanest guys on the planet–hell, hardly so–but they could still make an effort to improve. He smoked the rest of his pipe down, and then cleaned it out. He’d let Caleb sweat it out enough by now, he figured. Hopefully he’d had a chance to jack off, think about what he did, and realize what he’d done wrong, and they could have a conversation like real men, instead of a tantrum or argument.

He set his pipe back up on the rack, and then sighed, letting out a big belch. There wasn’t any use putting it off any longer. He hefted himself up the two staircases, pausing at the top of the second to catch his breath, before heading to his son’s room, and knocking. “Caleb, are ya in there? I’d like tah have a talk wit’ ya.”

“Sure thing dad, come on in.”

To Be Continued

Identity Crises (Part 1)

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