Eat Your Vegetables: A Formula Story

By O'Melissokomos

"Aw, Dad? Do I have to? Mom isn't even here."

That's my 13-year-old son Bryant complaining about dinner again. Well, about having to eat his vegetables, really. Why do us parents have to go through such trouble just to get our kids eat their broccoli? My name is Lou, by the way, and I'm spending the entire week alone with my son while my wife's on a trip out-of-state.

"Yes, Bry. I promised your mom to make sure you ate properly while she was away. That means no fast food, no pizza. What's the point of her growing her own organic garden in our backyard?"

"But Dad, she won't know."

"Goes to show that you really don't know your mother. She senses these things. Now hurry up, the sooner you start, the sooner you'll get your dessert." Hope the ol' bribery routine still works on him.

"Awww, we're out of ice cream, Dad."

"We are?" Uh-oh, I forgot all about that. My wife and I probably shouldn't have spent the night before she left with an ice cream gorge-fest. Damn Haagen-Daz ads. Oh boy, gotta think fast... "I know what we'll do. Let's say we finish our dinner--properly--and when we're done with the dishes, we'll head on over to the 7-11 to pick up some Ben & Jerry's? How does that sound?"

"Really? You mean it?" Ah-ha, his resistance is beginning to crack.

"Sure I do, sport. 'Sides, don't you want to grow up to be big and strong like your old man?" I flex my muscles but they're really rather flabby. I'm a bit overweight for my age. (Fine, I admit it. I'm technically obese.)

Bryant gives me a really weird look but decides that the ice cream is worth the trouble. With some bit of effort, he starts munching on the green. Success!

Surprisingly, it doesn't take him long to finish his meal. Sometimes I think kids just like making a fuss for no good reason aside from the attention they get. Bryant hasn't hit puberty yet and, for all intents and purposes, still more or less acts like a kid. After we finish cleaning the dishes, we take the car down to the 7-11 and bring home a couple of gallons of Cherry's Garcia. Soon enough, Bryant and I are in the living room watching TV and enjoying our cups of ice cream.

"So that wasn't so bad, was it Bry? Mom's vegetables, I mean."

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I guess they were ok." Bryant's more interested in what's he watching than engaging in conversation. Fair enough, I suppose, but then he makes a comment.

"Actually, I hate to admit it, but it was better than her usual sh… er… stuff."

"Really?" I find myself agreeing with him. "Me, too. Must be the new fertilizer she got from our neighbor."

"The creepy scientist?"

"He's not so bad. He's actually rather friendly once you get to know him."

"I guess. I haven't really talked to him." We both quiet down and return to watching the television. At around 10:30, I pick up our cups and bring them to the kitchen sink where I could wash them tomorrow morning. I come back to the living room, ruffle my son's brown hair (he hates it when I do that), and wish him good night.

"Just turn off the lights and the TV when you're done, ok?"

Bryant gives me a bright smile. "Night, Dad."


Later that night, I can't sleep. I'm feeling a bit warm all over and even sweating a bit. I hope I'm not going to get sick. Who's going to take care of Bryant for the next week until my wife comes home? I better take some medicine for this. I stand up and stagger my way to the bathroom. As I'm rifling through the medicine cabinet, I hear my son calling out my name from the living room.


I head on to the living room and see my son curled up on the sofa holding his stomach. "What is it, Bry? What's wrong?"

"I don't feel so good." Looks like he isn't faking it, either. Whatever I've got he probably has it too.

"Can you stand up? I've got some stuff in my room that may help." With some effort, I help him to my bed and take his temperature. That's weird; it's only 38° Celsius. I was expecting it to be much higher.

"When's Mom coming home?" Bryant's really affected by whatever's causing his stomach to ache so badly.

"Not for a week, I'm afraid. Hey, don't you trust your old man? Here, take this." I hand him two tablets of aspirin and a glass of water to drink. Bryant obediently complies. He's usually a lot more difficult to deal with--not a good sign.

"Why don't you sleep here tonight so I keep an eye on you, just in case? Take off your shirt and shoes; I'll get you something to wear from your room, ok?" I go to his room to pick up some clothes for him to sleep in when I hear him wailing.


I rush back to my room and see that my son shivering. Shit! What the hell is happening? This is way over my head. I grab the phone to dial 911 but then Bryant lets out an anguished scream.

"Aaaaaaah! Daaad, it hurts real bad."

"Oh my God! Bryant!" I drop everything to rush by my son's side. As I'm holding him, I feel his body starting to shake. I hug him even tighter, close my eyes, and pray to God to spare my son.

I don't notice it at first but I begin to feel my arms being forced apart and I think it's because Bryant's convulsions are getting worse--but I'm wrong. I open my eyes and discover that I'm not holding my 13-year-old son but someone a bit bigger and older. I'm even more shocked when I look at his face and recognize my son. The latent chubbiness has disappeared and is slowly being replaced by the strong features of a fit young man.

I struggle and can barely keep my grip on Bryant. His entire body is stretching outwards in all directions. He's getting heavier by the minute and I watch in suspense as my son literally continues to grow and extend before my eyes.

"Aaaaaah! Aaaaah!" His voice is cracking; I can even see his Adam's apple forming right on his windpipe. His face is no longer a child's but of an adolescent and it becomes more mature and more handsome.

Suddenly, his chest bursts free from his shirt revealing a well-proportioned 16-year-old physique. I pull off the remnants of his shirt and marvel at the fullness and tightness of his muscles that are bulging and expanding. My arms can hardly support his now-teenaged body that boasted large plump pectorals, hard broad shoulders, well-defined abs, and long solid arms.

I lift my head and see that the transformation has spread to his lower body as well. His legs have really lengthened. His socks are stretched out beyond belief trying to accommodate his large, long feet and his shorts are incredibly tight and very uncomfortable. I immediately undo his button and unzip his fly to relieve the pressure on his waist. I immediately spot his huge dick straining in his pre-teen briefs and trying to crawl out of its confines. His balls have tripled in size but these are still trapped in his underwear. I force his shorts down to his knees just in time. His quivering thighs and quadriceps balloon past what his shorts could have held.

All of a sudden, everything stops. I feel his body lose all tension and relax. I can't explain what has happened but in my arms wasn't a prepubescent boy anymore but a fully-grown adult. I'd say he was at least 20 years old, 6'2" and around 220 pounds of solid packed muscle. Looking down on his handsome visage, I place my hand on his cheek. "Bryant, Bryant, can you hear me?"

"Dad?" His voice has indeed changed; it was much deeper.

"Are you all right? How are you feeling?"

"I don't know... Everything feels weird, but the pain... the pain's gone. It doesn't hurt anymore. " He opens his eyes and sees me; he's visibly relieved (and so am I).

I press my hand to his forehead but don't feel the fever anymore. He's a bit disoriented but otherwise he looks all right.

Bryant tries to get up from the bed but almost stumbles the moment he stands erect; he's caught off-guard by his height (and new center of gravity for that matter). I'm more than amazed by how tall and built my son is. In the dim light of the bedroom, his impressive silhouette eclipses everything else. He's a Greek-God-come-to-life standing beside my bed and I can't help but be enamored by his imposing presence. For a moment, he surveys the room and isn't quite sure why he's seeing everything differently. He finally realizes there isn't anything wrong with room; it's him that's changed.

"Dad?" Again I hear his baritone voice and it sends shivers down my spine. "Dad, what... what happened to me?"

"I... I don't know, Bry. I wish I did."

He turns around to face me and my eyes bug out at seeing this living, breathing mass of masculinity before me. Not only is he almost naked, he's sporting the biggest bulges I've ever seen. His cock has actually spilled over the garter and his kiddie briefs are only barely holding back the rest of his package. What was I thinking? Why is the sight of son in his very tight underwear seriously turning me on? This isn't right, but something in me--something very deep within me--wants him very badly.

I stand up and approach my adult son and, as soon as I'm close enough, I pick up a scent that's permeating from his body. It's a bit sweet, then tangy... like it's a mixture of plant and animal. I don't know what came over me but I suddenly feel a wave of intense sexual pleasure pass through me. The feeling started from my dick and quickly crawled to the rest of my body. The sensation is enough to stagger me as I collapse into the waiting arms of my son who catches me. He's shocked and surprised at his own strength. I look up into his blue eyes--he really has my eyes-and I stare into them intently as they return my wanton gaze. I feel an urge building and welling up within me; the more I smelled him, the more I wanted him. And I can see he wanted me too.

With his strong, powerful arms, he elevates my face to his and plants a deep kiss. I feel my knees buckle but he keeps me up there with him supporting my weight as if I was made of air. I'm about 5'9" and tiptoeing to maintain contact with my son's lips. And all the while we're kissing, I fail to notice that something begins to happen to me as well.

I pass off my shuddering to the excitement of kissing my son for the first time. All I feel like doing is intensifying my kiss and holding Bryant's perfect body closer to me. I don't even realize that I've tiptoeing. By the time we separate, I'm looking down at my 6'2" son. I step back and see him grinning at me. I cock my eyebrow in wonderment but all he does is rip off my shirt and I finally see what he sees.

Instead of a beer belly and pathetic pecs, I have enormous muscles tightly clumped around my torso. I flex my biceps and this time they aren't flabby at all; they're big, hard, spheres. I feel my giant chest and the six-pack that was never there in my entire life. I gauge my height and weight and I put myself at about 6'6" and 350lbs. I'm a goddamn body builder.

Unlike my son's shorts, my boxers are still on me considering how much bigger they were to begin with. But like my son's shorts, they also contained a treasure waiting to be discovered--but not yet. I can sense my aching cock tenting my boxers but it would just have wait. Instead, my attention is drawn to Bryant's thick log jutting up past the band of his briefs. His 9" penis is very impressive, in fact I'm so mesmerized by it. All I want to do is wrap my mouth around it. I automatically kneel down, tear off his underwear, and start sucking his cock.

I can understand if my son's taken aback by all this if not thoroughly confused as to why his huge dick is in his father's hot mouth. But I needn't have worried. He's currently too horny to care; eight years worth of sexual denial can do that to you.

"Oh, Dad. That feels sooo good. Please don't stop."

I can't get over how control I have over this hunk of a man who happens to be my son. If he's ever played with his prick before, I bet it's nothing compared to what he's feeling now. For ten agony-filled minutes, I keep him on edge. I'm amazed not only at my son's incredible fortitude but also how easy and natural it is for me to be servicing his dick. He's hasn't had an orgasm yet and I dearly wanted his first to be memorable. With great effort from my part, I release his dick from my mouth much to his dismay.

"Dad. Please... I don't know what you were doing or why but I felt like I was really, really close to something."

I look up into his pleading eyes but I knew what I needed to do. "Bryant... son. I want... I want you to fuck me."

"Fuck? But I've... I've never done that..."

"I-I'll show you." I get up from the floor, pull off my boxers, and lie down on the bed with my legs over the side. My cock is more than I ever imagined it to be--10" long and 5" around--but it's not my cock that deserved a release. I spread my legs and show my asshole to my horny kid.

"Bryant. Do you see my ass?"


"I want you... to stick your dick in it."


"Put your penis in my ass."

"You're not serious."

"I am... son. Look, I know how close you are to shooting..." And he really is. He's never been hard like this before; it's only a matter of time before his natural instincts take over. "Do it."

Tentatively, he approaches me. His dick is already well-lubricated thanks to my earlier blowjob. He's not quite sure on what to do but manages to place the tip of his dick on my overheated rosebud. I lift my legs to give him more room to move around.

"That's it. Now, push it in slowly."

And he does. He applies a little pressure at first afraid of what might happen. Then he advances a lot more confidently and gasps at the tightness and wetness caressing his cock. This drives him craving for more and goes all the way in.

"Uuuuunnnnh." My entire body is pulsing with unfettered passion and unbridled lust. I've never had anything up my ass before but the feeling of fullness invigorates me. "V-very good... Bry. Now, when you feel ready... pull your cock out... but not all the way... then shove it all back in again."

"Then what?"

"Then you do it again, and again, and again. No matter what happens, don't pull out. I know this is your first time, but it's my first time too so don't be afraid. I know I can take it!"

His face is a picture of contradiction. He's obviously concerned about me but at the same time there's a painful yearning written all over his face. I smile and egg him on. All doubt dissolves away and he grits his teeth in preparation for his first fuck session. In the beginning, he's a bit unsteady in his movements but quickly gets the hang of it. At every pump, he refines his rhythm until he's furiously banging away like a dog in heat. "Fuck... uuunh aaaah aaah mmmmph fuck yeah!"

"This is fucking, son. God! Yeah!" My prostate is in heaven. My ass can't help but tighten its grip around Bryant's big dick. "That's my boy."

"D-dad... I feel something happening again... my dick feels like... it wants to explode! My balls feel so funny and tight."

"Hold it in, Bry. Hold it in as long as you can!"

"I'll... try." He's practically grunting in sexual fervor. "Oh God... I'm fucking... I'm fucking my dad!"

"That's right! Fuck me! Fuck your father!" This hunk of a stud is driving me insane with perverse pleasure.

"D-dad... it's... it's..."

"I know. Just tell me when. Let me know when it's coming." Bryant has his eyes shut tightly and he's gasping for air. In a way I'm envious of him, he's about to experience his very first orgasm. But then again, I'm the one who's making it happen. He stops moving and I already know why.

"I'm... I'm COMING! OOOOOH. MY. GOD!!!!"

He pulls his head back, pushes his cock in to the hilt and keeps it there. Even with all that's happening, I still manage to feel his dick expand in my bowels and start shooting his hot spunk into me. "Aaaaaah aaaah!!! Sooo good!! Uuuunnngh DAAAAD!"

This drives me over the edge, and I hadn't even touched my own cock. As I'm screaming, it sprays its pent-up contents all over my face and chest. Eight long white ribbons are squeezed from my balls and I savor the flavor of the ones that landed in my open mouth.

"AAAAAAAH! Bryaaaaant!" My mind is awash with the sensation of my climax. It's almost as if my entire body has experienced the same level of orgasm my prick did. For one brief moment, my son and I become one.

After taking out his cock, Bryant slowly sinks to the floor and is breathing heavily. He's overcome by the entire experience. I don't think anybody's lost their virginity quite the same way. Eight-years worth of cum must dripping out of my ass. I pick him up from the floor with whatever strength I have left and place him beside me on the bed. While we're lying down facing each other, I reach out and again place my hand on his beautiful, manly face.

"I love you so much, son."

"I love you too, Dad."

We give each one last kiss and both of us drift off to sleep.


The next morning I wake up all refreshed and feeling quite energetic although my brain is coffee-deprived and I can hardly remember anything that's happened the night before. The first I do is head straight to the bathroom like what I usually do every morning, but this time I can't shake this strange feeling that something's not quite the same. I turn on the faucet and, with my hands, I scoop up water to splash and clean my face and my eyes. I grab the face towel that's hanging from the wall to dry off. I finish up and as I turn around towards the door, I'm startled by an unfamiliar figure moving in front of me. I stop moving and wonder by the figure does the same. I stare at the sight of a muscular naked body looking back at me. Then it hits me. Realizing that I have been seeing my reflection in the bathroom's full-length mirror, all of the previous night's events come rushing back to me.

Dinner. Ice cream. TV. Bryant.

I run back into the bedroom and I quickly lift the bed sheet to find my son 12 years old again, and at first glance, he looks like he returned to normal. Upon closer inspection however, I do notice some not-so-subtle changes that have been retained. Even though he didn't have his masculine adult body from last night, I can see that his pre-teen form is on track to regain that physique when he comes of age again. Already his muscles are clearly defined; he has patches of pubic hair now. Also, he's much taller, and his cock, even flaccid, is much larger than it used to be. But aside from those, he appears healthy and is sleeping soundly. With a sigh of relief, I opt not to disturb him and let him rest. He's probably going to be very hungry when he wakes up though.

I return to the bathroom to check myself out. Thank God I lost most of the added height and mass; I'm not sure how I could have explained that to my wife. Nonetheless, there's still quite a bit left for me to hide until the time is right. I'm not quite 5'9", maybe closer to 5'11". Any excessive body fat I had before is now gone, and I still look like I've been visiting the gym regularly the past five years thanks to my current muscle definition and size. Most importantly, I'm pretty sure that my package wasn't *this* big. I clasp my hand around my new-and-improved cock and give it a good tug. No way I'm going to be able to cover this up from my wife unless I "accidentally" plant a cock pump in my belongings for her to find. As embarrassing as it may sound for me, it's easier than telling her the truth. Who knows? Maybe we'll get a good laugh out of it, if not a good fuck. (Can't wait to take this baby out for a spin.)

In the end, I think I can manage--a couple of loose sweaters here, a pair of baggy jeans there. Definitely a lot of stooping. Heck, I think I'll even sign up for a gym membership; she's been bugging me to do that for years anyway. It's the perfect cover-up.

Whatever happened last night I pray doesn't happen again. I sure as hell have no idea what caused it. It could have been anything. And I hope my son doesn't remember what we did last night (even though I certainly will--best sex I've ever had in my life) but I think I can convince him it was all a dream--a wet dream.

Now, I wonder if Bryant would like an omelette for breakfast. There are still a lot of vegetables left in the fridge I can mix in the eggs. Yeah, I'm sure he'll like that.


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