I watched myself change. had started off in my early teens just minutes before and watched myself transform into a young version of my father. First my features morphed slightly. My boyish looks became slightly stronger in pronunciation. I was wearing my new suit with my gangly frame, thin as a mop handle and gradually I felt pain in my head like some kind of siren had gone off. When I looked back up I saw my face had...changed. I looked tanner, a cross between my shade of skin and my father's Italian mid to light olive sheen. I was pale like my mother had been and now I found myself not recognizing some of my features. My nose stuck out to become slightly larger. My ears as well. I frantically stared at my own chest as it sprouted hair after hair, blooming like a vine down as it curled into a treasure trail, and then became more voluminous, spreading in fractal swirls of bushy hair until my entire chest was literally a mat. When I looked up, I had thicker stubble. My chin grew out and my hair found itself gelled into a slight pompadour like the kind dad had, black hair held thick with pomade. My body tensed and I felt my dick throbbing against my underwear. I felt something tugging at me.
I thought a series of ropes were pulling me into midair. My body buckled inside its cream colored suit, a few sizes too big for me, and I felt waves of pleasure overwhelm my senses. I saw I had deep stubble now. I rubbed it in wonder. My hand was more rugged. I looked like I had years of callouses on it, earned by hard labor and years in the sun.
"Son of a bitch-" I said, gaping at my own voice, which sounded exactly like dad's own voice, minus a decade or two.
I watched as I grew taller and my body felt like lead weights were clamping onto my arms and legs. I'd never felt so heavy in my life! I slowly took off the suit jacket and stared at my new arms, covered with a modicum of black hair sprouting up in furry delight over my arm muscles, my beautiful bis and tris and forearms which had tripled in size. I felt power surge through me. Laugh lines formed in the corners of my eyes and cheeks. The stubble grew more rugged and obvious wrinkles formed in my forehead and cheek jowls.
I sailed past my twenties as my body muscled up. My chest shoved out once, twice, three and then four times in bursts of growth. My hand shook as I touched my new pecs, bound by my wife beater.
"No way. No fucking way," My voice had dropped an octave since I'd last spoken just a minute ago. My body tensed again. My back had its own grown spurt and I found myself reveling in how I could now walk around with a totally new frame. I stumbled. It was a balance I'd never felt before. I wondered how much I weighed. I had been 110 lbs just 15 minutes ago. Sideburns grew onto my face. My face was slick and dark, tanned the perfect shade of older dad tan, with just enough Italian blood in me to make me look just swarthy enough, with my graphite grease-sand texture glowing in the light of my bedroom's small lamp.
I dared to flex. I laughed and gawked. I waved. My dad's image waved back. My hair receded a bit more by an inch. My muscled body shivered as weight was clamped onto me. My ass clenched and my legs were like two hams inside my now strained pants. I could barely walk around in my pants, so I slipped them off, with some difficulty. Anyone seeing me would be shocked I could get into them at all. My legs were so muscular you could bounce coins off of them!
I rose a bit in height. I put the cream-colored suit jacket back on. I looked so fucking hot! Dad should wear suits more often!
I had never felt so good in my life. I was looking at a carbon copy of my father: with the same smug expression that I tried to emulate. Hell, no wonder he was so smug all the time. He looked fucking great when he wasn't drunk and hitting me. I thought of all the times I'd seen that face as the slaps came, as he pulled me up into the air, growled at me, barked at me like I was some small animal. I would whimper as he threw me around the room, landing on the floor with an ashamed thud. I thought of all the times he berated me, yelled at me and called me a tough guy ironically and then just smash the shit out of our meager house and furniture. So many times he busted up his hand by punching right through a wall.
And that's when I saw myself come in, in a much too big T-shirt stained with beer and smelling strongly of beer. He, in my body, only 14 years old looked up at me with sheer vitriol.
"This is all a bad dream! Who the fuck are you supposed to be?"
"I'm you. Now. Is that you in there, Dad?" I sounded a bit amused and shocked. I was still getting used to my much bigger frame. I think my dad was 220 pounds. And my height! I hadn't even noticed but now that I looked around, everything had shrunk like I was on stilts, only the stilts were my actual legs!
"How tall am I? Like six feet two?"
"I'm six feet three you little dipshit! And you're not supposed to be the tall one! I'm the tall one around here, you little faggot!" He clenched his tiny fist and tried to punch me as hard as he could. I just laughed.
"Man, I barely even felt that!" I laughed and it was loud and it felt like my laugh shook the room. He looked up at me in still drunken bewilderment. He would really need to sleep this off, I thought. He had shrunk into my 14 year old frame, 5'3", a full foot shorter but the alcohol had remained in his system. A curl of a smile was still present on my face. I felt giddy and powerful. The suit which had been loose on me when I had bought it, with more than a hand length of space yet inside the sleeve, was now feeling tight. It was almost too small to wear now! My gut strained against my shirt a bit, sticking out just a few inches until I was probably at a 38 inch waist. Muscle beer gut. Just like dad to work out every other body part than that. It was an odd sensation but my gut was firm and hairy and sweaty. And with my olive skin now shining with sweat, I couldn't be happier with it. I patted it gently. My chest gained a few pounds, I could feel them settling deep into the tissue, pushing my pecs out more, feeling my manhood practically about to explode under my trousers. "Is it my turn now?" I asked in my sexy, gravelly dad-voice, dripping with machismo and confidence.
"Your turn for what, stupid? You stupid motherfucker!" dad replied drunkenly. I grabbed him before he could say anything and dragged him out of my room and held him up in the air. He struggled to get free but I just laughed. I could pick my own asshole dad up in the air! It was a dream come true! He cursed at me and tried to bite me. I put him in a headlock and came down the stairs, held him for a while as he struggled and began to cry.
"My turn for this. Dad!" I planted him on the ground. A light behind me blinded him someone as he gazed up at my now magnificent frame, which dwarfed his considerably as I was literally twice his size. The smack hit him hard and dazed him. "Who's the little pipsqueak now, you fucking asshole?" Dad sobbed. I smiled.
I strutted around the house, checking myself out in the mirrors. I took off the suit coat and put it up in the downstairs closet near the door. I walked back to dad, feeling up the carpet of hair underneath my wife beater. It made me hard just thinking about all that fur decorating my once meager and hairless frame. I smiled contemptuously down onto him. "Hey there, PRINCESS. You need to toughen up, PRINCESS." I picked up him and held him up in the air. My arms were so fucking big now. I think they were growing stronger than his had been. Small lines started forming of tattoos that surrounded one arm and one shoulder, then spread to the other bicep, tribal tats that accentuated how incredibly big they were now. What were they, 20 inches? 21? I had never felt more powerful in my life. I sneered at my father, reduced to the size of a mere wisp of a thing. I tightened my grip under his armpits. "YOU ARE NO LONGER IN CHARGE OF JACK SHIT!" I yelled. Shit. I sounded so intimidating. My voice had toughened up considerably to the point where I sounded like, actually scary. Like a military drill guy or something! Not my stupid little almost girly voice. "YOU FUCKING DISGUST ME, YOU LITTLE WORM. YOU HIT ME FOR YEARS AND PUSHED ME AROUND FOR YEARS AND YOU COULD HAVE BEEN A REAL DAD TO ME BUT INSTEAD YOU WERE A FUCKING LOSER AND TRYING TO FIND YOUR ANSWERS IN A BOTTLE YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING SHITSTAIN!" I smacked him once across the face. He yelped like a girl and brought his hand to his face, which was now in full tears. "Yeah, try and push me around now, Shitface. Fucking little wimp. Sleep it off, fuckhead." I picked him up like he was nothing and unceremoniously plopped him on the couch.
If this was a dream, it was the best dream I'd ever had. Dad just lay there in a sort of stunned daze, and he fell asleep not soon after.
I went upstairs. His room was bigger than mine. He he had a bunch of porn magazines with busty women on them. Nope. That did nothing for me. I guess there was one thing that hadn't changed about me. I snorted and checked myself out with a big "O" on my face interspersed with giddy, overdramatic smiles. I even stuck my tongue out a few times as I flexed for myself. I was a bodybuilder! And an adult! And looked like my dad.
I got naked for the first time. I stared at the thick flashlight hanging between my legs. Literally, it was the size of a fucking flashlight. Veins accentuated a meatrod sticking out from me. Ten inches of absolute madness in dick form. I noticed the tip of dad's dick still had foreskin, which I'd never had and let me tell you, feeling it for the first time and rubbing that against the head, was magic. The shape of my dick was not as big of a head as i thought it would be. It was more space shuttle in terms of shape, but that was better than my little 3 inch pecker from a few hours ago. I laughed and it felt good to laugh like a man. I sounded so adult and proud and...I thought of all the boys at school that were just so hot in their football uniforms and...and...and...
The next thing I know a rope of cum was wildly flying out of my new dick and coating the plywood wall, which was covered by a poster of Stormy Daniels. Stormy was gonna come down soon in favor of some Bo Dixon, I thought.
I rubbed my stubble. Was this really my life now? I had to be dreaming. All this muscle felt so much better than I could have dreamed. Even my beer gut was small enough of a muscle gut to be overwhelmingly sexy, and every nerve I had was turned on by how every crevice of me was now a middle aged DILF. I closed my eyes and fell fast asleep.
The next day...