Paternal Chemistry - Part 3

“Denny? Is that you?”

Denny froze with his beer halfway to his mouth. He didn’t think anyone would recognize him—not after he’d put on 150 pounds. He almost didn’t recognize himself. But he couldn’t go back home. Not after Mike had seen him in such a disgraceful state. He’d managed to avoid seeing his son at all for the past week, waking up late and hiding in the bar every evening, trying to drink away his embarrassment. 

On the plus side, spending time away from home had given Denny some degree of self-control, or enough control to only get two bags of takeout on the walk home. On the other hand, he was desperately horny. Terrified of being caught in the act again, Denny hadn’t even touched himself under the cover of his own bedsheets.

Anonymity had been his cover at the bar, but the voice that spoke his name had just shattered it. He turned on his stool (which was getting far too small for his increasing posterior) to see the astonished face of Jensen. 

Jensen was a big man, but where Denny had become a near-350-pound tub of lard, Jensen had toned at least some of his bulk through years of heavy lifting. The result was the build of a retired defensive lineman almost as large as Denny, but with definition in the arms, chest, and shoulders. A slab of dense beef compared to Denny’s jiggling mass. 

“God, Denny! It is you!” Jensen’s mouth hung open for a moment. “I hardly recognized you!” 

“Yeah, I’ve um…” Denny trailed off. “I’ve put on a few, I guess.” 

“A few?” Jensen was clearly deep into his cups, his normally boisterous nature amplified by booze. He reached out and held Denny’s stomach in both broad, muscular hands and gave it a shake. “Goddamn, Denny! You’re bigger than me!” 

Even though Jensen was being rough and playful, Denny couldn’t help but feel turned on. It’d been ages since he’d been touched by anyone. And there was no denying Jensen’s masculine appeal, with his broad, heaving musculature and a bright, inviting smile. His surprise at Denny’s size seemed genuine, without a hint of malice.

“Old age and a few too many beers have maybe caught up with me,” Denny admitted, although he didn’t truly believe it. “You’re still looking like a brick shithouse.” 

“Haha!” The big man flexed, biceps bulging almost enough to tear his sleeves. “Glad you think so! C’mon buddy, let me get you a drink!”

Denny was all too happy for the company. He’d barely spoken with anyone over the past week, and despite his escalating arousal, he’d had no desire to proposition women like he used to. Every night, he dreamed of men—muscular, virile men. Men who'd take Denny the way he used to think of taking women. Of being pushed down to the bed, legs raised over shoulders, and plundered by dicks bigger than his arm. He simply wanted a big man to shove his big dick in his big, fat ass. 

A big man like Jensen. The more the two chatted and drank, the more he imagined Jensen hauling his legs in the air, drilling his big cock deep inside, making him moan, making him scream. It was a distraction enough that he completely missed what Jensen had just asked.

“I’m sorry, what’d you say?”

“I asked: how’s the love life these days? You and your wife still not speaking?” 

“Oh, no,” Denny said, but without the mote of sorrow that usually accompanied that admission. He hadn’t thought about his wife in over a week—perhaps the longest stretch he hadn’t thought of her at all. “And you? How’s the wife?”

“Oh, you know, out with the girls tonight,” Jensen said as he polished off his beer with what Denny thought was a derisive sniff. The two fell into a moment of companionable silence before it was broken by the bartender announcing last call. Then, Jensen turned to Denny and said, “Got the place to myself, if you’d like to take our drinking someplace a little quieter.” 

Denny was surprised at the time—he hadn't realized how long he'd been drinking, talking, and privately fantasizing with Jensen, and now he was asking him over? “Actually, yeah, that sounds nice. My son and I are… well, we’re trying to avoid each other at the moment.” 

“Oh yeah? Well, you can stay the night if you really want. We’ve got a guest bedroom.” 

“We’ll see where the night takes us,” Denny mumbled as he imagined everything that could happen behind closed doors. Of Jensen taking him in his big, beefy arms, squeezing him tight, of sticking his tongue down Denny’s throat… 

And then one of those big arms wrapped itself around Denny’s shoulders, and Jensen leaned in. “Then let’s go, bud. I’ll call a cab.” 

---

The ride home was uneventful, if a little snug with the two big men in the back seat, still drunkenly bantering about cooking, beer, spots, and life in general. Denny couldn’t help but ogle every bulging muscle that threatened to erupt from Jensen’s attire, while Jensen seemed to sniff at some alluring odor that Denny wasn't aware of. He was aware of his fat ass and thighs rubbing against the more muscular man, and he could only imagine the sort of tool that Jensen swung between his legs, how heavy and low it hung when he was at home and casually—

“We’re here,” Jensen announced, catching Denny daydreaming again. He hoped it wasn’t obvious how much he wanted him, or how hard he was. With how big his thighs had gotten, Denny didn’t think anyone could tell when he was at full mast, as he had been since leaving the bar.

Denny stumbled out of the cab—it was still so hard dealing with all the extra mass he was carrying—and made his way up the short walk to Jensen's home. It was a small duplex walkup, and Denny only struggled slightly with the small flight of stairs leading to the entrance. Jensen held the door open gentlemanly, took Denny's coat, and directed him to a comfy couch while the big man went to the kitchen to grab a pair of beers. Jensen returned with both beers, but had also discarded his button-down shirt, revealing a tight tank top that barely seemed to contain Jensen's bulk. 

Jensen came around and sat beside Denny, who was already sinking into the couch due to his own mass. Jensen's added weight was enough to bow out the loveseat with a dangerous creak, and the two men found themselves touching sides as they slipped toward each other. They both grinned sheepishly, and Denny tried to gulp down his desperate desire to reach out and—

"Well, um," Jensen started, bringing Denny out of his reverie. For a moment, Jensen's face seemed to slacken, and his eyes lost focus as he breathed deeply. Then he came back to himself with a slight shake of his head. "Yeah, so it's getting late. Maybe we should finish these last beers and get some shuteye?" 

Denny saw Jensen had subconsciously placed his hand on his knee. A familiar, comfortable gesture? Denny couldn't be sure, but he desperately wished it was something more. "Sure, yeah," he replied, downing his bottle in a single gulp. Jensen did the same, then gestured toward the stairs leading to the bedrooms. 

It was already hard enough going upstairs with all his new poundage, but drunk? Denny stumbled several times, and he felt Jensen's strong hand on his enormous rear steadying him. He thought he could feel him squeeze with each stumble, but then discounted it as hopeful imagination. The two wished each other good night before parting, Denny entering the dark room and disrobing entirely before slipping under cool, comfortable sheets. 

Any other time, Denny felt he would have fallen asleep immediately, but being so close to such a big man, watching his big bulge through alcohol-tinted eyes, he couldn't help but imagine how it would feel, how it would taste, what it would be like to finally scratch that growing itch deep inside. His imagination now fully in control, Denny conjured an insatiable Jensen in his mind's eye, hard, towering over him, lifting his legs into the air before driving himself straight into his core.

Denny began to writhe in imagined pleasure, but the feeling of fresh sheets on his obese body felt incredible. Soon his gyrations were for their own sake and not the mindless movements of a man in desperate need of satisfaction. He trailed a hand down his front, pressing into his soft, luscious mounds, and felt his cock harden into his doughy, hairy stomach. The feeling of his warm blubber against cool cotton was almost as titillating as his chubby fingers running over his foreskin, letting the hairy flesh play over his head before a pearl of precum formed. 

But Denny couldn't get the image of Jensen out of his mind, and so his hand descended further past low, dangling balls and an incredibly furry groin to begin exploring the outer edges of his asshole. Denny couldn't help but gasp—his rim felt almost as sensitive as his cock. Maybe more so, but certainly more slick. Even his now-steady stream of pre-cum couldn't hope to have lubricated an ass as large as Denny's, and yet his finger slid as easily into his hole as if he'd doused himself in liquid silicone. 

If playing with his rim was almost as good as touching his cock, pressing past it was better. Denny let out a needful moan as he pressed his digit further, past the first knuckle and then the second, his fat finger just giving him a tantalizing but oh-so-brief feeling of satisfaction before an urgent wave crashed over him. He needed to be filled. 

As Denny pushes a second finger inside, he cries out again, louder this time, but then stops himself—he's in another man's home and he's crying out like an alley cat in heat! It didn't matter that he was in such desperation for cock that he'd given serious consideration to simply getting up and walking into Jensen's room, to dive onto his cock with his mouth before mounting it, driving it so deep inside, to finally quell the fire that had risen up to consume nearly all of Denny's senses.

In the other room, Jensen stirred from slumber. He was rock-hard, having dreamt of a soft, luscious, yet strangely hairy body fawning over his bulk. Then he heard Denny's aroused plea and felt his cock twitch. He hadn't been with a man since his college days, but for some reason, Denny had looked and smelled so good at the bar. He'd fallen asleep thinking of what it would be like to feel that voluptuous form surround him, envelope him, and to plunder him hard and deep. 

With a start, Jensen realized Denny’s scent had now entered his home, clouding his thoughts, filling him with an urge to conquer and claim. A second cry from down the hall, this time cut off, convinced him that his friend was in need, and only he could satisfy him.

Denny was in the middle of considering a third finger when he heard floorboards creak, and his door opened to reveal a hulking shadow in the dark. He swallowed at Jensen's figure, so much more imposing in the dim light. He saw a glint near his groin and realized that Jensen was already hard and leaking his desire. It made Denny's mouth water.

Jensen lumbered up to the bed, his cock swinging like a heavy club. Denny's eyes grew wide as he stared at the massive organ as it drew closer. Then, Jensen placed it right against his lips. "Go on," he said in a low, commanding voice. "I know you want it." 

He did. Denny opened his mouth, and Jensen pressed in, filling the void with so much man meat that Denny thought he'd choke on it. And yet, somehow, Denny felt his throat open up to accept the enormous organ, sliding down until his nose was nestled in Jensen’s crotch. 

“Fuck, Denny, you got a better mouth than my wife,” Jensen moaned while holding Denny’s head gently, guiding those soft lips into a rhythm that brought him deliciously close. Before he could finish, he pulled away and collapsed into the fatter man, mashing his enormous cock into his belly. 

“Goddamn, Denny, I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but you just smell so goddamn good,” Jensen whispered into his ear, maneuvering himself to be somewhat more on top of Denny, to dominate him with his mass. Denny moaned as he felt his soft bulk yield to Jensen’s hard musculature just as his mouth yielded to his questing tongue. He felt a rough and calloused hand reach under the sheets to grab at his flesh, to press into his breast, and then pinch his erect nipple. Denny’s desperate moan only seemed to encourage Jensen’s rough handling, and he felt another hand reach under his belly to mold and knead the soft fat.

Denny couldn't remember the last time he'd been so turned on, and by a man! Jensen's hard cock, thick as his wrist and almost as long as his forearm, pressed insistently into Denny's blubber, leaving streaks of wetness over the sheets. Denny couldn't believe how good it felt to be so desired, to have his flesh so roughly manhandled like he used to touch his wife. And how badly he wanted that huge cock inside him.

Why? After a lifetime of chasing pussy, why did he suddenly want cock? And not just any cock, the biggest cock he could find? Why did it feel so good to finger his hole, and why did it ache to be filled by something so much larger? Why didn't it hurt? So many unanswered questions swirled in Denny's mind that for a moment he drifted away, Jensen's tongue finding a slack receptacle rather than an eager rebuttal. 

But then, Jensen's hand slipped between his chubby thighs and dangling balls to find his slickened crack. If Denny's mind was unsure, his body was certain it wanted this. "You're wet," Jensen said with a lewd chuckle, before driving his thick finger inside. 

Denny gasped, his doubts silenced momentarily by the intrusive digit. It felt so good—why did it feel so good? Jensen pressed in further, his finger curling slightly up and inward until it found the spot and pressed. A shock of electric ecstasy ran through Denny, and he moaned in astonishment. This was it—the source of his craving. He needed more, but he knew with certainty that there'd be no going back. Whatever shred of heterosexuality remained would be driven out of him by Jensen's enormous organ, and all his sexual desires would forever be for more. 

"Please," Denny whispered. A plea from a rapidly fading part of himself that wanted this all to end, to return to his normal and unsatisfying life of loneliness. But again, his body betrayed him. Denny reached down to tug at Jensen's cock and press it into the softest flesh of his inner thigh—a supplication to Jensen's masculinity, and Jensen interpreted it exactly as such. 

No other words needed to be said. Jensen reached down to grab Denny's legs and hoist them into the air, revealing a pink rosebud buried between thick, hairy ass cheeks. A quick shuffle, and Denny felt Jensen's fist-sized head line up with his hole. There was almost no resistance as Jensen pressed in. Denny felt himself part, felt Jensen slip past his ring, then drive himself inside in one agonizingly slow thrust. 

With every inch Jensen inserted, Denny's panic grew and grew, until finally he felt Jensen's beefy thighs pressed firmly against his plush ass, his organ somewhere deep inside Denny's guts. 

Once inside, Denny knew it was done. All his doubts and fears were washed away as if by a rising tide. And as Jensen began to slowly thrust in and out, Denny could feel a tsunami of orgasmic pleasure unlike any he'd ever felt building deep inside—deeper than Jensen's titanic organ. Why did he ever doubt this feeling? Why did he ever think to avoid it? Why didn't he run headlong into the biggest cocks he could find? 

Denny giggled playfully for a moment as the wild shift in his cognition gave him mental whiplash, but then he was left with a serene calm. As the chemically-enhanced pheromones drove Jensen in his single-minded task, Denny basked in the certainty of his doom. From this point onward, he knew he'd never seek a woman's touch again. Then he shouted, "Yes, yes, YES!!!" in time with Jensen's thrusts, each one building that orgasmic tsunami until Denny was mentally staring down an oblivion so total he wondered if he'd even survive. 

Jensen's grunts were more like a bull's snorts as his pace increased, his cock like a steel beam driving itself in and out of the fat man. Denny's fat rippled and shook; his demands for more took on a maniacal tone as he felt the wave crest and began its long, crushing journey down to Denny's shore. Jensen's thrusts then took on a rapid pitch, his snorts now like the chugging of a steam engine relentlessly ramming into Denny. And just as Jensen called out Denny's name and filled his guts with his seed, the wave crashed against Denny's mind and blew him totally away.

Both men came more than they'd have thought possible just a few hours ago. Jensen filled Denny with so much jizz that had he opened his eyes, he would have seen Denny inflate by several pounds. Denny was beyond feeling anything but pure orgasmic joy, but if he could, he'd have felt his entire groin and stomach dampen with his seed until it began to slide around his sides and onto the mattress, forming a puddle of sweat and cum that sloshed with Jensen's aftershocks.

Jensen wasn’t much one for pillow talk. Once Denny regained his senses, he found Jensen passed out next to him on the bed, steadily snoring into the mattress now damp with sweat and cum. The room reeked of sex and male odors, but also that certain indescribable spiciness that Denny had noted from his son’s jockstrap.

As much as Denny had enjoyed himself, what Jensen’s wife would find when she came home was Jensen’s problem. Denny did his best to hoist himself up without waking Jensen (he needn’t have bothered—the big man seemed dead to the world) and went about the house picking up his discarded clothing. He then happily sauntered home, but not before getting a bag of takeout as a late-night snack.