His breath came in hard, ragged gasps. He felt his body constrict. Cum sprayed all over his hairy chest — his hairy abs, his hairy knuckles on his hands, all the way up to his hairy pecs.
Brad felt shocked when he experienced the incredible release and saw his huge cock explode.
“No, oh no!” Brad exclaimed. “What did I do?”
He leaped off the bed and started pacing. “What have I done?” Brad cried.
With the cigar still clamped firmly in place between his jaws, Brad raced from his room and down the hall. “Dad! Dad! Are you awake? Dad?”
Ben froze in shock as his son burst into the room and found him with his small fist wrapped around his little prick.
Brad stared in confusion. “Dad? What are you doing?”
“Brad! What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry, Dad.” He puffed on the cigar. “I— I think I wet my, I mean your, bed.”
At the same time, Brad looked down and noticed the little stiff dick on his former body. “Hey, Dad. My penis never got like that. How did you make that happen?”
"Never?" Ben asked in a skeptical voice. The kid was 12 years old. He had surely discovered the thrill of a quick and dirty illicit jerk-off session.
"No," Brad whispered, a crimson blush shining even though his neatly trimmed beard.
"Calm down,” Ben commanded. “Uh, buddy, it's normal.”
Brad seemed to relax and let out a loud exhalation of air as Ben saw something else to seize his attention. “What the hell? That's one of my cigars!”
“Uh, yeah, well, Dad, you see, I thought that since I am you…”
“Put it out!” Ben yelled. He leaped out of bed, stark naked. "And what did I hear you say? You are not me! Appearances aside, I am still your father, young man!"
“But Dad," Brad protested in a husky voice so unlike his usual whiny complaint. "It tasted so good. I really liked it.” Brad stopped suddenly. “DAD! You’re not wearing any pajamas!”
Now it was Ben's turn to blush, and he felt the warmth spread across his entire face. He stepped toward his son, but the difference in their sizes became more pronounced the closer he approached. His face was barely level with Brad’s chest. He noticed the cum blotches on his son’s hairy chest.
“Aren’t you cold, Dad, not wearing any PJs?”
"I don't wear PJs.” Ben whispered in a soft voice as he looked up with a dawning awareness at Brad’s hulking body.
“Oh, sorry Dad. I didn't know.” Brad looked down, again impressed by his Dad’s much smaller size. “But what about me? I think I wet the bed. Please, don’t get mad at me.”
To Ben’s dismay, Brad continued to puff on the cigar. His little dick has shriveled back up.
"It wasn't wetting the bed,” Ben said. “Son, it's just something that happens to men. Jesus, he thought. In all possible scenarios, he had never thought he might have to discuss sex with his son while staring up at him.
Brad appeared stunned. “You mean like it's NORMAL? But it's wet and sticky and I couldn't stop…”
“Yeah, it's normal,” Ben explained. Clearly uncomfortable, he looked up at his son and groused, “Don't they teach you this in school any more?”
“What don't they teach us in school, Dad?
“Sex.” He felt his face redden again.
Ben noticed that his former dick now on his son had started to get hard again. “I mean, well, it's part of sex,” Ben said awkwardly from distraction.
Brad swallowed deeply, noticed for himself that his dick had stiffened again.
“Uh, son, do you remember that you saw me pulling on my dick when you came in the room?”
“Yeah,” Brad answered, and then he took several puffs on his cigar.
Ben cannot help but notice that his son’s erection is at full mast.
“Umm, Brad, you really, really need to stop puffing on that thing,” Ben said, well aware of the effect his cigar must be having on his impressionable son.
“Why?” Brad asked. “Tastes kind of good, Dad. I like it.” He puffed more as his dick got harder and longer still.
Ben, running out of options, tried to reach up and grab the cigar. In the process, he accidentally brushing against the firm dick hanging between his son’s huge legs.
“Oh, Dad, wow. That felt nice,” Brad said.
Ben swallowed hard. "I didn't mean to..."
“Could you rub it some more,” Brad asked. “It seemed to help earlier when…”
Ben licked his lips. "I don't...no, I shouldn't do that...."
“Oh, please Daddy,” Brad said, taking three quick, deep puffs on his cigar. “It kinda hurts and I don't know how to make it normal again.”
To his dismay, Ben noticed that his own little stiffie had returned.
“Hey, Dad. Look! My, uh, I mean your penis is getting longer too. Mine never did that. Why does that happen, Dad?
"Brad, uh, it's something that happens, well, because, well, when a man gets excited."
“You mean like happy?” Brad asked as he puffed vigorously on the cigar.”
“Sort of. Dammit, Brad. That cigar's not helping!”
“Why? I like it. Why do you not want me to smoke it?”
"Because, well, it's something that can cause you, well, it is sort of, at least it can be, arousing.” He felt safer trying to describe the situation using more clinical terms.
“What does arousing mean, Dad?” Brad kept puffing despite his father’s protests.
"It means you get excited and, well, your cock gets hard."
“Like ours are now?” Brad wanted to know.
“Yeah,” Ben admitted.
“Cool,” Brad said.
His father reached up for the cigar, but instead bumped into his son. Brad’s huge erection bumped against Ben’s stomach.
“Oh, sorry,” Brad said. “Gee, it’s awfully sensitive, Dad.”
"I know," Ben said. He felt his own tiny nub straining. "Believe me, I know."
“How do you make it stop, Dad?”
"Well, like earlier, you can, well, you can stroke it, rub it, but maybe you should just stop smoking and try to think about something else."
Even as Ben told Brad to stop, he couldn't resist reaching down and touching his own tiny dick.
Brad crowded closer. “Show me how to do that.”
“Dammit!” Ben jerked his hand away. "I didn't mean to do that."
Ben puffed harder on his cigar and looked down between his father’s legs. Without warning, he reached out one of his big hands toward his former little dick now between his father’s legs.
“Please don't stop, Dad,” Brad said. “I like this, Dad.”
"Oh Christ!" Ben exclaimed as he felt Brad’s huge hand grasp his dick. "Let go," Ben cried out, his voice breaking.
“Sorry, Dad. Did that hurt? I was only doing what you were doing, Dad.”
Ben breathed deeply. “It is just very, very sensitive,” he tried again to explain.
“Okay,” Brad said. He yawned and stretched his massive body. “I think I'm sleepy, anyway, Dad.”
“Maybe you should get some sleep," Ben pounced on the suggestion.
“Yeah, I guess so.” He took a few more puffs. “I am beat.”
"Why don't you put out that cigar?" Ben recommended in a friendly, reasonable voice.
“Okay, Dad,” Brad agreed. “It's almost done anyway. See? Jeez, I smoked a whole one of Dad's big cigars all by myself. Isn’t that cool?”
Ben looked up in surprise and realized that his son's statement was true.
“What’s the matter, Dad?”
"Uh...nothing,” Ben said. "I guess I miss my cigars."
“You sure that’s all?”
“Yeah,” Ben said. He crawled beneath the covers on his son’s bed, covering up in a belated attempt to maintain some decency.
“I’m sorry that you can’t smoke, Dad. “But you know what happened when you tried to smoke earlier, right?”
"Yeah,” Ben admitted in a sad tone.
Brad lowered his body over his father, who looked so small in Brad’s bed. He hugged him really, really tight. Ben rose up and returned the hug, only as he did so, he brushed again against his son’s still semi-hard cock.
Brad moaned softly, still intoxicated by all the new physical feelings he has experienced in the last few hours.
“Good night, Dad,” Brad said. He turned out the light as he left the room.
Ben closed his eyes and hoped that morning might help them think of a way out of this unwelcome switch.