Date: Fri, 7 Apr 2017 01:01:44 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101 <a4f101@yahoo.com>
Subject: Becoming Him

Here's a story taken from my Tumblr, at a4f101.tumblr.com/storytime. You
can find this one, and the pic that inspired it, here:
http://a4f101.tumblr.com/post/137991736584/

You can also find a whole lot more of my stories here on Nifty - look for
'a4f101' in the Prolific Authors listing.

This story is purely a work of adult erotic fantasy, copyright me 2017. I
own it and all legal rights to it. If you're under the age of majority in
your jurisdiction, please come back when you're of legal age.

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*****

"People are starting to notice," he said.

"Dude, you're pretty noticeable," I grinned. "Shit, look at you. The
fucking size of you. Even on a nude beach like this, I bet they've never
seen a dude who looks like you do... especially swingin' a fat fuckin' dick
like you are."

I ran my hand lightly down the thick flesh of his back, down to squeeze the
beefy power of his chunky ass. It was true - we were catching eyes left and
right, even more than I guessed was normal for a gay nude beach. Not that I
had any experience with one, before this. This was my first time at one. I
was loving the hell out of it, and the way the other dudes' eyes were drawn
to the sheer spectacle of his thick, beefed-up ex-jock body - and
especially the fat hang of that uncut monster of a cock of his - made my
chest swell up with pride. Because he was here with me, and he was mine,
and I belonged to him.

He side-eyed me and lightly smacked my hand away from the shifting swell of
his thick ass, rolling his eyes.

"That's not what I mean," he said. "I mean back home. They look at me
differently. Started making little remarks about it, y'know. How much
bigger I've got. That kind of thing."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he nodded, looking off to the distance before turning back to me
with a smile on his handsome mug. "And I like it. That they notice."

"You do, huh?" I grinned, feeling that special tingle starting in the pit
of my belly. Part of it was the sight of him, the smell of his sweat and
his general manly aroma. But the bigger part was talking about this with
him. Being able to hold his hand and be in love in front of other people,
and be awed by the contrast between us. Between my tighter, more
classically jockish body and his. Seeing how his ex-linebacker's frame had
swollen with the beef he'd willingly stacked on. Growing for me.

"I do, yeah," he grinned. "Because it reminds me of why I'm changing. Who
I'm changing for."

His big hand slipped around mine, fingers intertwining with mine, and
squeezed, and I felt that thrill inside of me. The flutter nobody else had
ever given me.

"You're not changing, bro," I said. "You're becoming what you were meant to
be. Who you were meant to be."

"Oh yeah?" he said, one eyebrow raised, playing the game with me. "And who
is that?"

That tingle in my lower belly had turned into a slow burn, and I could feel
my own cock starting to fill out, right here in the open, which was a whole
different trip all its own. I looked squarely up at him as we walked hand
in hand, two naked men, two brothers - only, that wasn't who we really
were, anymore. Hadn't been for quite awhile. We were much more than that,
now.

I stopped walking, tugging on his hand to get him to stop with me. He
turned and I took his other hand in mine, looking up at him, more in awe of
and in love with him than I'd ever been.

"Dad," I said, simply. "You're really becoming my Dad, bro. The man you
were always meant to be. The father you were meant to be."

He gave me a long look, the edges of his mouth turned up in a little smile,
then squeezed my hands in his and pulled me closer, up into the warm,
tanned bulk of his thick, ripe, dad-like body.

"That's right, son," he said, folding his hefty arms around my back as I
slipped my arms around the thickness of his waist. "I'm your Dad, and I
love you, and I love becoming this for you. For us."

He leaned down and I raised up on the balls of my feet to meet his lips
with mine, and we kissed, slowly, tenderly, deeply, right there in the
open, naked, two brothers who'd become something so much deeper. Not
everybody would understand it, but we did, and that's what mattered.

There'd always been something between Fraser and me. He was eight years
older than I was, so we didn't run in the same circles or anything growing
up, but we were tight, for brothers. We had to be. Home was a tough place
to be. Our father was more of an absence in our lives than a presence, and
he'd quit the whole family thing not long after I was born. That had left
Fraser to help our mother raise me, and I guess maybe that's where things
took root, to make us what we were now.

By the time he was most of the way done with college - working two jobs,
coming home at night exhausted, my big and capable and strong brother
looking washed out and done - I was deep in the throes of puberty, and my
typical little-bro idolization of him had become something much more. I'd
come by his room, see him sitting on the side of his bed after a full day
of classes and then a shift at the gym or the campus diner, head in his
hands, rubbing the fatigue from his handsome face. He'd always look up, see
me there, and smile. My invitation to come in, tell him about my day, and
more importantly, listen to him tell me about his. Somewhere along the way,
that turned into me kneeling up behind him on his bed, rubbing his thick
neck and beefy, ex-ballplayer shoulders while he groaned and told me how
good it felt.

One night, I'd taken the chance when he turned and smiled tiredly at me,
and leaned in and kissed him on the lips. He grunted, stiffened, and pulled
back a little. I was a persistent kid, though, and I leaned in and pecked
his big, warm lips again, a little slower, and this time, he didn't pull
away. I could feel the indecision tearing through him as he held his lips
to mine, and then his big arms folded around my tight younger frame and
pulled me close, and Fraser had kissed me. Really kissed me, my first ever,
and that had done it for me. I was his, for life, if he wanted me.

We just kissed that night, me learning what another person's tongue tasted
like, felt like, and how to use my own. My cock was raging hard in my
shorts, pressed into the muscular swell of his belly, his big hands sliding
up and down my sides, exploring me with his paws as we explored each other
with our lips and tongues. I could feel his, big and hard beneath me, and I
wanted so badly to see it, touch it... do all the things my young mind
imagined I could do with it.

But he wouldn't let me do that, and in hindsight, he was right. Still, we
were different, after that. Closer than before, if that were possible. And
over time, Fraser taught me about kissing, the two of us going a little
deeper, until the night we wound up curled into each other, hands inside
each other's underwear in his bed, and I moaned his name, clutched the
thick power of his upper arms, and shot my young load into his big
paw. Then he let me take his out, and shit, I knew he had a big dick, but
seeing it was a different story. It was like a Red Bull can, only a little
thicker, throbbing and manly-smelling, covered in a thick layer of
foreskin. He shot his load all over the front of my briefs, my stomach and
my forearm as we kissed deep, and that pretty much sealed the deal for us.

It took him a little longer to finish college than most, working to help
support Mom and me, and by that point she was starting to get sick, and
didn't even notice that I'd moved into his bed. That her sons were falling
for each other. Falling into something deep, and grown-up. That we spent
each night naked, entwined, making slow love, bonding even tighter. Fraser
promised me that if I kept my grades up and got a scholarship to go to
college, we could do more. The night the letter from State came in the
mail, he ate my tight teen ass out until I came all over his headboard,
then lubed up the insides of my athletic soccer-player's thighs and slid
that beast of a cock between them, holding me in his big arms, rocking back
and forth as we tangled tongues and he whispered what a good kid I was, how
proud he was of me, how much he loved me. I fondled the huge head of his
slick cock where it throbbed beneath mine, whispered back that I loved him,
and I had to bite my tongue from blurting out "Dad" at the end of that
sentence, as he got all big-eyed and started to flood my stroking hands
with his thick big-brother cum.

I thought a lot about that, in the days after that night. How easily the
word had come to my mind, my tongue, nearly to my lips with him. How he'd
cared for me since I could remember. Chasing after me to do my homework,
helping Mom get food on the table and keep the roof over our heads,
teaching me how to cook and do laundry and do my part too. Giving up most
of the pursuits his friends were enjoying, that any young man his age
should have the right to, to be the man of our dysfunctional house. More
and more, my man. Even if everyone else would've though it was wrong, and
sick, and fucked-up, when he'd come home after a long day at work and wrap
his arms around me, kiss the side of my neck and then my lips and say, "Hey
baby boy," I didn't give a shit what anyone else thought. It felt right for
me, and us, and that was all that mattered.

Mom passed not long after my high school graduation, right at the start of
the summer. Our father hadn't been in contact for a couple of years. It was
just me and big Frase now, on our own together for the first time in our
lives. We came home from the funeral, locked the doors, closed the blinds,
and went to his bed. Our bed, had been for a year at that point. Came
together, letting our tears spill as we embraced, and kissed, and
undressed, and fell into bed.

"Please, Frase," I said as I felt the heavy weight of his hard cock against
mine, our naked bodies entwined and thrusting against each other. "Please
fuck me."

"You sure, baby?" he said, his big, handsome mug full of care and concern
and love, and I knew even then there was never gonna be anybody else for
me.

"Please," I nodded, smiling, the tears clearing, because I needed him and
this and that deeper connection more than anything else. I'd been
practicing all year for him, for his hugeness. I knew it wasn't gonna be
easy. But I was ready. We both were.

It really wasn't easy, because christ, he was just so fucking huge, but
then again, it wasn't as hard as I'd psyched myself up for, either. It
hurt, that big brother cock of his finally breaching my hole, both of us
dripping with lube and spit and anything we could think of to ease his
progress inside of me. But I gritted my teeth, bore down, and took him
inside of me, both of us gasping with surprise when he finally got in, and
kept coming, and coming, until he'd filled me up, gone to the root of his
epic cock inside of me. I clutched the big bunch of his biceps as we stared
at each other, stunned and with wonder, as my body got used to him, the
fat, hard throb of him embedded inside me. I didn't know how he was ever
gonna get it out of me. I never wanted him to, all of a sudden, and when he
began to slowly, experimentally fuck me, just little movements, back and
forth, building up to bigger ones, I started to really see the light. To
feel him, and the pleasure he was giving me, and that's when I
spontaneously blurted it out.

"Ah Dad," I moaned, surprising us both.

"Oh fuck!" Fraser hissed, and began to fuck me even more intently. "Say it
again..."

"Dad," I whispered, still surprised, but then I kept saying it, it just
kept flowing out of me, my subconscious pouring out years of pent-up
thoughts and fantasies and feelings for him. His eyes kept getting bigger
and more intense, and the sixth or seventh time I called him that, he
clamped his mouth over mine, kissed me hard, and dumped his enormous load
inside of me.

He didn't pull out, just rolled over onto his back and carried me up on top
of his brawny young man's body, staring up at me with wonder. Just like I
stared back at him. He never really went soft, I don't think. We didn't say
anything for a long time, just rode the sensation of being so completely,
intimately connected.

"Why did you call me that, Scotty?" he eventually said, quietly.

"I dunno, bro," I muttered, looking away, suddenly embarrassed. But he
reached up, took my chin in his big hand, and gently turned it back to face
me.

"Because you are, OK?" I blurted suddenly, hot-faced, eyes brimming with
tears again. "You raised me, and showed me everything, and cared for me,
and you're the only one who ever seemed like my Dad. The only one who ever
loved me like one. I'm sorry, it just slipped out. I'll never say it
again..."

"Shhh," he whispered, rubbing his hand along my jaw, taking my face in the
big, warm palm of his big paw, stroking tenderly. "I understand. And
yeah... it's weird. But I feel it too... son."

He leaned up and kissed my lips.

"Say it again, Frase..." I murmured, and he smiled slowly.

"I love you... son," he said, deep and low, and I whimpered and lunged
forward to kiss him. He was ready for me, kissing me back as his cock
stirred inside of me, and I rode him until we both came again, slower this
time, full of feeling and meaning and a new level of connection between
us. We went to sleep in his big bed, slept long and late, and woke up the
next day knowing we were different. Knowing we really were father and son
for each other, now.

It had been a few years since that evening. If you wound the clock back all
the way to that first stolen kiss when I was just a horny kid, it had been
nearly a decade now. I'd come through college with a 3.9 GPA, got a pretty
good job, and big Frase was doing well too. Left behind the double shifts
at the diner and the campus gym, the grunt jobs he took after college just
to get us through every month. Putting his big brain and his finance degree
to good use now. This trip to Spain was our gift to each other, two weeks
holed up at this gay resort on Ibiza, celebrating each other and our
bond. As family, as men, as lovers. As brothers, but more than that, as
father and son.

Frase's transformation had been my idea, kind of. He'd always been a big
dude, thick and powerfully muscled, and if life had played out differently,
if he hadn't been responsible for looking out for me and raising me as Mom
got sicker and sicker, maybe he would've played college ball and even gone
on to the pros. But he hadn't, and he didn't seem to regret it. I sure
loved his body, his powerful thickness, his presence, the way he felt
against me and over me, wrapped around me like a big, warm blanket of manly
beef. So different from me, the contrast between the thickset power of his
manly body and the finer-honed muscles of mine. We fit together really
well.

"Shit, I'm really starting to get thick," he said one night, looking at
himself in the mirror after our shower, his hands on the thickness of his
stomach, still powerful with muscle, but undeniably beefier too. Working
his new job with the investment bank, he didn't have as much time to work
out as he used to. He wasn't fat or anything, he was just more. His chest,
his arms, his ass, his thighs, his stomach - all that big, powerful, brawny
muscle, overlaid with a layer of beef that just tweaked my cock to see,
touch, taste, and feel against me.

"You look fucking good, man," I said, tossing my towel on the sink and
stepping up behind him, wrapping my arms around his bulk, pressing up
against the muscular heft of his big ass as I slid my hands over his on his
stomach and squeezed. "More like a dad than ever, big guy."

"That right, son?" he said with a grin, and I felt my cock growing up
against the deep cleft of his ass. I ran my hands up to the thickness of
his chunky pecs, to the big nips that crowned them, that I liked to nurse
on in bed sometimes as he stroked my head and softly called me his baby
boy. I pressed my lips to the smooth bulk of his shoulders and caressed his
big pecs, watching that incredible club of a cock thicken and slowly rise.

"Yeah, Dad," I murmured, kissing up to the side of his neck, nuzzling
there. "I love it. Love you. You could get bigger, and I wouldn't care. If
anything... damn. It'd be incredible."

He fucked me slowly and intently in our bed that night, eyes locked as I
stroked my hands over his muscular thickness, his heft, his incredible
physical power.

"Breed me, Dad," I moaned, squeezing his flesh. "You big, beautiful, sexy
fucker... cum in your boy."

He did, with a growl and a quiver through his sexy mass. After that, he
stopped worrying so much about how big he was getting - he wasn't sitting
there pounding whole pizzas or anything, but he ate heartily, kept pushing
at the gym, and my lust for him and our deep bond just got even stronger as
he grew for me.

It wasn't just his body, either. His hair had started to pick up threads of
gray, started to thin a little at the crown of his handsome head, and I
don't know why, but that just made him even hotter. When he let his stubble
come in on the weekends, it had silvery flecks in it now. The way his hair
was going, he'd probably have to start buzzing it down soon, and I found
myself eager for that to happen. For his full transformation into a dad, my
Dad, to be complete.

"God, you're such a hot kid," he said now, big paws squeezing my bare ass,
right on the beach in front of everyone, all those other gay dudes staring
at the jockish guy and his big, thick, beefy man, so clearly into each
other. "Any one of these guys would kill to be with you, you little stud."

"Don't care," I shrugged, leaning up to kiss him again, caressing the
sun-warmed thickness of his skin, glowing with sweat. "Don't want `em. I
just want you. My Dad. You're perfect. We're perfect."

He growled and slid his tongue in my mouth, and by now, our hardons were
getting to be obscene. It was a sexy thrill to be open like this, out in
the warm sea breeze, thousands of miles from home and free to be as open as
we wanted, safe together. But I wanted more. Wanted to be alone with my
man. I took hold of his big paw and tugged him up the sand, towards the
hotel and our room.

"God I love you, son," Frase said, his hands roaming freely over me in the
cool semidark of our room, the sliding doors open to the sound of the sea,
the curtains pulled closed. "Daddy's sexy little jock kid."

"Fuck yeah, Dad," I moaned, leaning in to suckle on his big nips as my hand
found the club of his cock and stroked it. The head was sticky with precum
already, and when I ran my tongue over my palm to taste his manliness, he
growled deep in his big chest and pulled my mouth to his, plunging his
tongue inside to share the flavor of his cock with me.

"You're all man, big guy," I murmured as I pushed him back to the
king-sized bed, the springs squeaking a little in protest as all 230 pounds
of his sexy ass hit the mattress and I climbed on top of him, my own big
dick pointing the way. "My man. My Dad. My big, sexy, beefy fuckin' Dad..."

He moaned and pulled my head to his to kiss me, as I ground my cock against
the warm expanse of his thick stomach, his big paws exploring the tighter
planes of my leaner muscles. I grabbed hold of his meaty pecs, grazing my
palms in circles over his big, sensitive nips, as I shifted my ass and
straddled the heavy, throbbing head of his thick cock. I was still full of
his cum from this morning, cum and lube and spit that I'd been holding
tight inside of me. That and years of experience fitting big Frase inside
of me had me more than ready for this, as I pressed my hole to his head,
watched his face writhe in pleasure and anticipation, and slowly slid down
the massive might of his big Dad dick.

"I love what you've done for me... what you've become for me," I moaned as
I rode him up and down and his big mitts roved over the hard muscles of my
body. "What we are now. I wanna keep it up, Dad. Keep growing together. Get
deeper into who we really are."

"I'll go as deep as you want to go, son," Frase moaned, one hand squeezing
my flexing, riding ass, the other stroking my face. "Get as big as you
want... get my Daddy on for you... for my baby boy..."

"Oh fuck Dad," I growled, riding him harder and faster. Picturing him with
his thick hair close-cropped, flecked with gray, his handsome face
maturing, his body thickening with natural power. Picturing the two of us
together, looking even more like the father and son we'd secretly
become. Manifesting it physically. Me and my big brother, becoming my big
Dad.

"Anything you want too, Dad," I moaned, feeling my balls churning and
tightening, that telltale fire spreading through my groin and my
belly. "Shave my chest... my body... be the boy you want me to be... your
boy... just for you..."

"Aw fuck, son!" he gasped, his orgasm starting to wash over his handsome,
sweaty face, and I knew what I'd be doing as soon as we got home. Sooner,
even, if I went down to the little pharmacy in the village and got the
right razors. I pictured us together, big Frase, my big Dad-bro helping me
shave down, make me back into the hungry, eager teen kid who'd first kissed
him so boldly a decade ago. Take me to the places we'd both yearned to go
back then, back when I was too young, back before we'd become who we were
meant to become. Beyond brothers, and into something deeper, truer, better.

I thought about making my own transformation for big Frase, for my Dad,
about taking this crazy beautiful thing between us even deeper than we
already were. That triggered my nuts, and I started to cum, spraying my
load across the heaving, muscular swells of his stomach and his chest, as
he stroked and squeezed my muscular thighs and ass, nodding, calling me his
baby boy, Daddy's boy. Calling me son.

Yeah. I don't know why it had taken me so long to see it, but it was
selfish of me to expect Frase to change so much, just for me and my
pleasure. We were partners now, family in a deeper way than anyone else,
and I owed it to him to be everything he wanted me to be, too. To explore
his fantasies, and make them come true as well. It was the least I could do
for my big brother, the man who I loved more than anyone else, the man
who'd become my father in every way possible. The least a son could do for
his Dad.