Hunter: D.I.L.F. (musc mc AP)
by Aardvark
Hunter Scott was not a normal boy.
It was only ten years ago that Hunter had been born. The next day, his father died in a car accident, leaving Wendy Scott to raise their only child alone. It had not been easy, but Hunter was a well-behaved child - even his two’s were more tepid than terrible.
But when he turned three, something happened. Things started changing. Unexplainable things.
It all started when Wendy came downstairs one afternoon to find her son’s bed smack in the middle of the kitchen. She hadn’t heard any movement, but there it was, clear as day – a twin bed, mattress and pillows, right by the refrigerator.
“Hunter?”
Her son crawled out from under the covers and smiled. “Morning!”
“I…uh…”
All Wendy could eke out were incredulous syllables. “Wha…Why is your bed down here?”
“I got hungry but I didn’t want to get out of bed.”
“Hunter, how did your bed get downstairs without you getting out of it?”
The next thing Hunter said was a phrase Wendy would remember her whole life.
“I told it to.”
As said before, Hunter was not normal, not in the least. It didn’t take long for Wendy to figure out that Hunter had complete control over the physical appearance of objects and people, along with a growing ability to alter people’s minds. Visits to therapists and clergymen proved futile, but all parties advised her to teach her son to control his bizarre power and to not let him become foolhardy with it. Most guessed that he was the next stage of human, an evolution of man. She begged them to leave him alone. When he was grown up, he could decide whether he wanted to be open about who he was.
Wendy knew it was an incredibly dangerous gift, if it was a gift at all. She would stay up nights and watch Hunter sleep, afraid that if she fell asleep herself, she would wake up in the middle of the Sahara desert, or be a toad, or – worse – that Hunter would be gone and she wouldn’t know where he was.
Time and time again, her son told her that he loved her and he loved being home and he wasn’t going to change any of that. She believed him, she really did. But he was so young – what if this power was hard to control? What if he lost his temper and banished her to Mars? COULD he send her to Mars? There were so many unanswered questions.
Hunter was smart, and he knew that he was special. He wasn’t going to waste his power by sending bullies to the tops of telephone poles and having his bathroom clean itself. The more Wendy got to know her son, the more she knew she had nothing to fear.
Wendy was paying bills when she heard her son yelling. Screaming, in fact, for her. “MOM. MOOOOOM!”
She raced upstairs and saw Hunter on his bed. The TV was on, but Hunter wasn’t watching. Big tears rolled down his baby-fat-laden cheeks. “I…I lost it! I LOST IT!”
“What? What’s wrong, Hun, what did you lose? What is it?”
“I can’t change it, I can’t! I want to but I can’t!”
Wendy turned off the TV. Pierce Brosnan was on it, playing James Bond. “You can’t change what? Here, wipe your eyes.”
Hunter took the Kleenex and wiped away his tears. “I wanted black hair.”
“What?”
“I was watching James Bond, and I liked his hair, so I wanted black hair too. And it won’t change color! I keep telling it to but it won’t!”
Wendy ran her hands through Hunter’s big blond locks. “You have hair like your Dad did when he was your age. Your hair is beautiful.”
“Yeah, but I want it to be black now. Your hair is black. Why won’t mine be black?”
“Have you ever tried changing yourself before?”
Hunter wiped away another tear. “Well…no.”
“Can you still change other things?”
The TV turned on again. Hunter nodded, and it flipped off. “Yeah, I can.”
“Hunter, I don’t think you can change yourself.”
Hunter burst into tears again and cried into her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, honey, but all other kids have to deal with themselves too. And you are so lucky! So, so lucky. Remember that. Nobody can do what you do.”
But Hunter didn’t respond, and all Wendy could do was stroke his hair while he cried and cried and cried.
Wendy never dated, even though Hunter said he wanted a Dad. It was hard, being a 30-year-old woman with a now 10-year-old son. She was attractive, but all the good men were taken, and the ones that weren’t were scared of instantly becoming fathers. She had gotten married young, and he had been taken away too soon. Now, it was just Hunter and her. Hunter would grow up and then maybe she’d meet someone. Hell, she’d only be in her forties when he graduated college. If a man came in and swept her off her feet, she’d go for it, and Hunter would love it, she knew.
But that was just a fantasy. No woman was ever just swept off her feet by a stranger.
Right?
Hunter watched his Mom pull out of the driveway and drive down the road. This was the one time she was consistently gone for an hour each week; the one chance he had. It was time to put his gift to the test.
He sat, and breathed, and tried to focus. His ten-year-old mind was a complete blur of images, shooting through his head like runaway stars and fighting for his attention.
He thought of the fists in the schoolyard, the shoves at the water fountain, the glares at lunch.
He thought of Sean Hardy.
And then, he was looking at Sean Hardy. Big ol’ Sean was bigger and fatter (and a year older) than everyone in his grade, and instantly identified his fiery orange-red hair with his equally explosive personality.
“H-h-hey, Sean.”
Sean Hardy’s reaction to Hunter was the same as anyone who has ever seen one of the school wimps appear in their room.
“Jesus! Hunter?! What the…”
Before Sean could react, Hunter decided it would be better if Sean were on his own turf. And so, Sean was in Hunter’s bedroom before he knew what hit him.
It took Hunter a second to quiet Sean’s screams. The big ginger just rolled around on Hunter’s bed, yelling his head off.
“Shhh! Shhhhhhhh! Shut up, shut up!”
“Where am I? God! What the…”
Hunter glared. “QUIET.”
Sean stopped yelling and squirmed. “Is this your room? How’d I get here?”
Hunter’s mind was racing. Come ON, start already, he thought. Why was this so hard to do? But it was working, he could feel it working. And it was working on himself, too.
He’d figured out the loophole.
“Why am I here? What are you doing?! Please…”
Ugh, starting to yell again.
“Shut up! This is your house, what’s the problem?”
“I…what? My…my house…no, it’s not…”
“Yes it is, Dad.”
“Dad?!”
“Yeah. You’re my Dad.”
“What?! Nuh-uh…nuh…uhhhhhhhhh…”
Sean’s head tipped back, as if his neck couldn’t hold it up. He kept whining in prolonged breaths, and then his body slumped down onto the bed, his limbs slowly thrashing the bedspread.
“UHHHHHHHHH…uhhhhhh…huuuuuuuuh…Hunnnn…ter…Hunter…”
“Yeah?”
Hunter leaned in closer. “Yeah, Dad?”
Sean shot upright and grabbed Hunter’s collar. “Stop…stop it, pleeeeease.”
“Stop what, Dad?”
“Uhhhhhh…”
A big wet spot appeared on the front of Sean’s khakis. His grip on Hunter loosened and he eased onto his feet. His legs felt like jelly underneath him. He was tired, unbelievably tired. He felt like his body was a churning inferno, on fire inside him.
He looked down at his son. No! Hunter wasn’t his kid. He was too young to have a kid! He was…how old was he?
Another spurt of cum. Fuck, hold it back, Sean. Not in front of the kid.
No, he told himself, this was Hunter’s fault. Hunter knew what he was doing.
He looked down at Hunter again. And then, Hunter started to shrink. He had been at shoulder-level with Sean, and then at chest-level, and now barely came up to Sean’s waist.
Weird that his clothes shrank too…unless…
All it took was a quick glance in the mirror for Sean to realize that it was he who was changing size. He’d sprouted like a weed. A foot-and-a-half in twenty seconds.
“HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS?”
Hunter just stared in awe.
Sean’s red polo was barely enough to cover his upper chest, and the edge of the fabric stopped way above his navel. As he watched, Sean’s little belly – which had been big to start with but had been countered by the new height – pulled in, in ripples, then bulged out into a set of unbelievable abs, abs so big that they didn’t even look flat on his stomach. They weren’t some pretty-boy abs that cheap catalog models got with a few crunches, they were solid bricks – like a soldier’s, like a warrior’s.
“Ohhhh, fuuuuuck…”
His husky-boy Penney’s khakis suddenly dropped, as his waist got tinier and tinier, but he looked down past his abs and saw his swelling thighs holding up the depleted waist. The fabric on the khakis stretched tight as his hamstrings and quads ballooned, then teardrop shapes started to tear through the cheap fabric.
He came again. He couldn’t help it. He was wildly horny, but Hunter, his boy Hunter, was right there, and he didn’t want him to see his Dad like this. Not yet. He was too young.
Sean tried to cover his dick – and now, it was a big dick, and getting bigger by the second – but he still had a boy’s hands. They didn’t cover shit, barely hiding both of his big testicles. They felt, and looked, like fucking grapefruits in his swollen, tearing pants. He could feel them churning, blowing out wads of cum, making testosterone, changing him into a grown man.
He started to forget that Hunter was the one changing him. Everything was a blur, as if a hand had reached inside his mind and smacked over the filing cabinets, sending the contents into disarray.
“Nnnnngh, errrgh…fuck! Fuuuuuck…”
Was that a voice crack? He sounded weird.
He felt cramps around his neck, and suddenly his shirt was unbelievably tight. He looked in his son’s bedroom mirror and watched his collar start to stretch as his neck got thicker. It was thicker than his tiny head, a lot thicker; a big pillar of muscle leading up to the crowning façade. His traps pushed up and out and he couldn’t help but groan in agony – and ecstasy, he reached up and pulled at his collar to give his burgeoning muscles more room to sprout. His arms were losing their fat and when he reached up, he felt constricted in his sleeves, then both his armpits tore out and revealed thick patches of jet-black hair under his arms.
His bull-thick traps finally bulged through his open collar, spreading the fabric very wide and flipping the collar straight up. His shoulders cramped for a second and then, with one solid push, exploded outward, sending red cotton flying. They got thicker and rounder and higher with every desperate breath Sean could manage, delts exploding into big round bowling balls, as big as the biceps he was growing. His big arms were like watermelons, beautiful tanned watermelons, leading into forearms that looked as thick as his son’s waist.
“Wow, Dad…you look great so far…”
Sean Hardy had a thousand things he wanted to say, or to SCREAM, but all he could manage was a whimper, a tired moan. His shirt was stained with sweat and the air reeked of masculinity, as Sean blew another shot of cum into his dripping khakis.
He’d always wanted more kids, he thought, and now with all this newfound masculinity, he could have them. Fuck, he could have a fucking football team. And he’d coach it. He mopped his soaking brow and thought of Wendy. He wanted to get her pregnant. He wanted to plow her while she screamed his name and he shot his seed into her.
Two solid, rock-hard nipples tore through the remnants of his cheap red child’s polo. They were as big as the top of a baby’s bottle, like rubber stoppers holding in his soon-to-be huge pectorals. He forgot his son was watching for a second, and pinched one, making himself chortle and making his dick hard.
“Motherrrrrrrrgh…oh jeezzzz, my fuckin’ VOICE, Goddamn, my chest…ARRRG…”
His chest barreled out quickly, and his back blasted out in the other direction. He became more V-shaped with every moment, his broad shoulders and tapered back leading into his incredible 28-inch waist. His pecs got bigger, then bigger still, tearing through a polo that looked like it didn’t have anything left to tear through. His chest was expanding like a balloon, pushing outward and, also, to the side, every muscle growing into glory, pushing his arms outward.
“Hunter, Dad needs some time alone…”
Blam. Another cum shot.
Hunter didn’t leave. He just watched as the shock of red hair on Sean’s head turned black, jet-black, thick, wavy and swept back, like James Bond’s hair. The visage of his bully pushed out into masculine perfection, his ginger brows turning black as well, his forehead bulging out, revealing two big, beautiful green eyes deeply set underneath beautifully knotted black brows. His cheekbones snapped out and widened his face, and with one sickening crack, the boy turned to a man, his latently fat face becoming distinctively square-jawed, startlingly masculine with three dimples – one deep in his big chin, and two on each side of his beautiful mouth when he revealed his big white teeth.
He looked down at Hunter’s wide blue eyes – blue, like his Mom’s – but realized his huge pectorals were blocking the view of the rest of his body. He turned to the mirror. His huge barrel chest and unbelievably beautiful shoulders twisted down into thickly knotted arms, arms so thick that the biceps and triceps appeared to be separate entities, and forearms as thick as his bull-neck. His hands were like catcher’s mitts; his waist looked like it had been carved from stone. He had abs that bodybuilders killed for, chiseled obliques leading down into his huge horse cock – a foot long, soft. His butt stood straight out, two rounded watermelon halves jutting out from his incredibly tight khakis. The waist of his khakis was pulled down and revealed his bulging boys’ BVDs, now much too small to contain his man meat. His meaty thighs held up the rest of the torn khakis, leading down to his shredded calves. His sneakers had long since been torn to bits, but he hadn’t noticed until now.
Hunter sized up his Dad. The man was huge, absolutely massive. He’d seen that wrestler on TV who said he was six-six and 290 pounds, so those were the numbers he’d settled on, but Sean looked much bigger than that TV bruiser. Maybe it was because Hunter had kept repeating in his head, no fat, no fat, no fat, just muscle. 290 pounds of rock-solid muscle, and it showed. Sean Hardy was enormous, and ultimately masculine. His face was clean-shaven, but the dark whiskers would only need a few hours to achieve a very dense shadow. He looked like a combination of Brad Pitt and Pierce Brosnan, except he wasn’t at all a pretty boy – he was so manly that the cocky sneer on his face gave even Hunter pause. He was inhumanly gorgeous, yes, but too big, butch and muscular for his face to be the star attraction. His body was like Schwarzenegger’s in his prime, but even beefier and more defined, and his six-foot-six height was too amazing to be ignored. All of his clothing needed to be specially made, and he liked it to fit well, to show off his unbelievable V and big vascular pythons that he called his arms.
Sean couldn’t stop rubbing his huge, tanned body. His taut skin was baked golden-brown, and a light dusting of his distinctive black hair covered his stomach, leading down into a treasure trail and, eventually, the forest of pubes poking out of his thong-like tightie-whities. His chest was smooth – he had it waxed regularly – and he had beautiful, clear skin. And when he spoke, women and men were instantly enraptured. His voice was as clear as Sinatra’s and as deep as Barry White’s, rumbling across a room like a freight train and holding listeners in its strong grasp.
The fragments of his polo began to fuse together as Sean caught his breath. The red polo – XXL tall, from an online bodybuilding retailer – looked painted onto big ol’ Sean’s body. The buttons were undone and the V-neck showed the canyon between his huge pecs, while the widespread collar accentuated his bulging, powerful shoulders. The belt of the khakis pulled up as it tightened around his tiny waist, and the shreds of khaki cloth once again became whole, a pair of big-and-tall dress pants wrapped around Sean’s sequoia-like legs. Once again, he wore shoes, size 15 black leather dress shoes. Hunter could see his reflection in them.
And there, in front of Hunter Hardy, stood his Dad. Sean’s big barrel chest bobbed up and down as he breathed normally once more. There was a pause as Hunter stared, amazed, at what had once been his tormentor, who was now his big, handsome father. Sean turned his head, every muscle popping in glory. Hunter could see his pectorals and biceps involuntarily flex as he moved, the red polo bunching up and releasing.
For one moment, Sean Hardy stared at his son, his brow knit, his face brutish. And then, his eyebrows raised and his eyes twinkled, and he smiled a beautiful smile. When his face registered happiness, the raw masculinity was replaced with refined beauty, as he recognized his son internally for the first time.
“Hey, bud. Didn’t see ya there.”
His voice rumbled like thunder and brought peace to Hunter. He reached down with his big paw and swept up Hunter with his strong right arm, kissing his forehead. “You’re my #1 Big Gun, sport.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Hunter grinned, wondering when the real reasons for Sean’s transformation would start to reveal themselves. Sure, it was nice to have a devoted Dad now, but…
“I have a date with your Mom tonight. Can you be a big boy and stay here by yourself?”
“Duhhh.”
“Let’s go pick me out somethin’ to wear, huh? Somethin’ your Mom would like.”
“Uh, yeah.” Hunter’s mind raced ahead. He expanded his Mom’s closet and added in a full wardrobe for Sean, and he made her bedroom the master bedroom. Attention to detail was needed. He couldn’t miss anything.
“White shirt?”
“Yeah, yeah. That’ll look good.”
Hunter’s mind wandered. He looked around the room, at Sean and Wendy’s wedding photo on the dresser. Sean looked younger in the picture, his face less weathered and his body slightly leaner, but he was still a complete Adonis, poured into his tight tux. Wendy’s belly was starting to show, barely. Hunter always knew that she’d been pregnant during the ceremony. He imagined Sean, a total Big Man on Campus, frat boy supreme, being a big player. And then, bam, he got this girl pregnant, and there was a shotgun wedding, and yet somehow it was still lasting ten years.
Oh right, Hunter thought. It lasted because I was special.
They had money, a lot of money. Hunter knew he wasn’t in his old house anymore; he was in a mansion. Sean had been a doorman at an exclusive club when some bodybuilder guys had talked him into competing, and then that competition led to a stake in a local gym. One gym became five gyms, five became twenty. He ran them all, hiring the best trainers and managers. He was a brilliant businessman. He had millions.
While Hunter observed the room, Sean peeled off his polo, which was like watching a snake shed its skin. His massive arms slipped into the silk Hugo Boss shirt and he buttoned it up, which took considerable work, as his big fingers had trouble with the tiny buttons. He got three buttons up and stopped. He pulled the fabric tight, but that was as high as it would button. His huge chest had simply grown too big for the designer shirt. Oh well, he could stand to show a little skin.
“Blue or black jacket?”
“Blue.”
Sean looked his son in the eye. Had Hunter’s eyes always been green? Yeah, of course, green like his old man’s. “Blue it is.”
All of Sean’s jackets were made by the city’s finest tailor, to accommodate the huge shoulders and chest, the bulging arms, the tapering torso and the small waist.
He left the khakis and shoes as they were, and pulled an alligator skin belt around his waist.
“How do I look, sport?”
“Cool, real cool, Dad.”
Hunter saw the security panel by the bed flash green for an instant, indicating an entrant by the garage. “I think Mom’s home.”
He followed his Dad downstairs, then stopped in the huge hallway, peering through the dining room into the kitchen, where the maid – the maid? Oh yeah, Tresza, the maid – was helping put away the groceries.
“Hey, baby.” Hunter heard his Dad’s voice rumble through the house. “I’m taking you out tonight.”
He could hear them kissing from two rooms away, that’s how aggressive they went at it. Wendy was so into her husband’s mass. She loved how erotically he dressed, with his unbuttoned shirts and tight pants, his workout uniform of a white tank top and jersey shorts, the clingy polos and bulging jeans he wore every day. She loved his black hair and beautiful face, and his huge muscles. She loved how people stopped talking when he swaggered into a room, how men got intimidated and women got hot for her husband. But most of all, she loved how he loved her, and how even though he dressed the part of a big muscle stud, he was completely monogamous and obsessed with his wife and child. Sean’s upbringing was stunningly poor, to say the least, and he wanted his family to have everything he could give them.
They were totally making out. Tresza walked out of the kitchen and winked at Hunter, who prowled upstairs when he heard a pan fall on the floor and saw his Mom pinned on the counter, with his Dad running his hands up her skirt and kissing her neck, inhaling her scent.
They were gone a half-hour later. Wendy blew Sean in the car going to the restaurant, and then under the table at the VIP lounge of the club they went to after dinner. She was into it, the public blowjobs, the thrill of possibly getting caught.
They walked to the car and got in, knowing that the tinted windows hid them from view.
“Babe, it’s time.” Sean smiled to show his dimples. He knew Wendy loved the dimples. “We’re old enough. You’re ready, I’m ready. Let’s make that baby.”
Wendy looked at Sean, his face starting to show the day’s stubble, his broad shoulders and big pecs working their way out of his clothes. She wanted to say no, that one boy was enough, that one pregnancy was just fine, thanks. But then she stared into his big green eyes, and felt his incredible hands on her thigh, and she melted.
They were in the back seat in a flash, his huge cock totally erect, slamming into her. He was as endowed in the sack as anybody would expect him to be, and the minutes turned into an hour as Sean made passionate love to his wife. He kept cumming inside her, over and over, blasting his seed, trying to make the next son he wanted so desperately. It was the right time of the month, and Wendy had just gone off the pill, so her hormones were up. He knew this time, it would take.
And he would be right.
Hunter was still up, staring into the mirror. He had felt warm all night, as he’d expected. He’d made Sean his Dad – his loving, adoring Dad – and now it was time for that loophole to take effect.
He knew that his hypothesis was correct once his eyes turned green in the afternoon. The warmth, bubbling inside him, was how Sean had felt in those crazy fifteen minutes when he grew up.
Hunter loved watching. He loved watching his blond hair go away. The curls straightened and the roots shifted, making his hair grow toward the back instead of the front. The slight wave in his hair was now ink black, like his Dad’s.
His clothes felt a little tight, and he saw that he was a good five inches taller. Now he’d be the tallest in his class, like Sean Hardy had been.
He loved watching his chin sprout that distinctive Hardy dimple, and the way he had two more when he smiled. His muscles ached, and he knew that he was stronger, athletic. He looked like a big kid now, not some shrimp. Even his face looked wider, empowered, his big green eyes popping out against his slightly tanned skin. He was a beautiful child, and he was going to turn into a hell of a stud in a few years. He knew this for a fact.
That was all he had needed to do: change his genetics. He was sorry for erasing his original father from the picture, but Sean was perfect, and perfect for the new Wendy and Hunter Hardy.
Hunter reasoned that he had only made Sean into a god, not ruined his old life. Since Sean was being raised by his grandparents anyway, it made sense to warp reality a little and make them his parents. Hunter’s new grandparents were sixty, a fitting age to have a thirty-one year old hunk as a son.
Changing his direction, Hunter thought about how he wanted to have a brother. He knew Sean wanted to give him one. Sean wanted six or seven sons to dote on. Hunter thought about how he was going to grow into the next Sean Hardy – Hunter Sean Hardy, unbelievably tall and handsome and musclebound, smart as a whip, caring as…
“Still up, sport?”
There was Dad, wearing only the white shirt now, slightly crinkled but still taut against those kick-ass muscles.
“Yeah, Dad, I was…”
“Hunter Sean Hardy, go to bed.” His voice was authoritative, but his face was jovial.
Hunter crawled into his twin bed, his feet slightly touching the headboard for the first time.
Sean sat on the side, next to Hunter. “Look how big you are now. Soon, you’ll be able to toss me like a football, buddy.”
“I doubt it.” Hunter grinned.
Sean kissed his son’s forehead. “I love you more than I can possibly say.”
There was a pause, as Hunter stared into his Dad’s eyes.
Yeah, he had done Sean Hardy a big favor.
“I love you too, Dad.”