Bros to Dads - Part 2

Commission

A while later, the frat house had shifted right alongside its residents. The walls seemed wider and the ceilings higher. Hallways had somehow expanded to allow for the massive bodies now waddling through them. Nobody remembered it any other way. They had oversized furniture, reinforced doorframes, and plush seating built for extreme comfort. And it was like the house had always been this way, and their bodies had always been built enormously.

Music still bumped through the walls, and deep voices filled every room with laughter and lazy drawls. The bros had become something bigger, and the changes had brought them closer. It wasn’t only a brotherhood or friendship; it was a deeper connection between expectant fathers who carried each other’s children. Everything was different, and it was evident.

The average bro—those who’d downed one to three cans—looked like exaggerated versions of their old selves. There were about a dozen of them. Each was around 300 to 400 pounds; their bellies were big and round, filled with 10 to 30 babies depending on their beer count. Their faces were still youthful but softened—more dadlike in demeanor and design. Their chests had ballooned into milk-laden pecs, jutting proudly over their bulging bellies like basketballs. Their thighs were thick and strong, spreading when they sat. And their butts were heavy and proud, matching the proportions of their beach ball-sized testicles. Every step they took was a waddle, like they were adjusting to the heft that came with every breath.

Tanner and Mikey—who had each taken a single can—lounged near the window, caressing their bellies and feeling the babies move inside. Their shirts had shrunk down into cropped tanks that didn’t even try to cover their bellies. They jiggled with every chuckle, talking trash and occasionally absentmindedly rubbing the sides of their swollen tits to deal with the pressure. It wasn’t only the kicks; it was a whole new world of sensations that they felt accustomed to, even though they had developed recently.

Then there were the heavy lifters—those who took four or five cans. These bros were massive, loud, and deeply content in their new lives, weighing nearly 500 pounds each. They were pregnant with 40 or 50 kids each, and their bellies were so vast that they rested easily on the ground when they sat. Their hips had spread into wide arcs, their thighs touched all the way to the knee, and their butts had become impossibly round and jiggly. Their balls were massive, even for their enlarged bodies, almost twice as big as the balls of those who only drank 1 or 2 cans. Their balls hung low and often bounced against their inner calves as they walked.

Dylan, who took four cans, moved with a hypnotic sway, wearing nothing but a too-tight jockstrap and a mesh crop top. His 2-foot-long cock bobbed lazily under his swollen belly, brushing his thighs with each step. His hands often found his belly’s curve, giving it affectionate rubs as he grunted from the effort of movement. He laughed more easily now, with a tired joy that made him seem older and gentler.

Then there were four titans: Tyson, Zander, Jamal, and Noel. Each bro had consumed six full cans. They now weighed over 650 pounds. Their frames were more than exaggerated. Their bellies looked tauter than drums, impossibly wide and full, packed with 60 powerful, kicking babies. Their asses spilled behind them like a pair of massive beanbag chairs, resting on the ground even while standing, keeping them permanently anchored in their weight.

Zander currently sat on a reinforced stool in the living room, shirtless, while massaging the sides of his overinflated tits. His chest was absurd, like a pair of small beach balls full of milk, veined and heavy, heavily resting atop his belly, with a deep cleavage that became more noticeable every time he leaned forward. He had a soft beard now, patchy but intentional, and a deep, calm baritone when he spoke.

Jamal had become a cuddle magnet. His entire chest and abdomen were dusted with thick black curls of body hair, a true dadbod mantle. He often had someone resting against his belly or using one of his ass cheeks like a beanbag while they talked.

Tyson and Noel, meanwhile, were nearly inseparable. They waddled side by side through the room. Their massive butts jiggled and bounced in sync with every heavy step, their hips brushed, and their bellies occasionally bumped together with soft thuds. They couldn’t help but caress each other’s bodies and rub the spots they couldn’t reach alone. Their outfits consisted of briefs that barely covered part of their asses and tops that didn’t help much to cover their tits and engorged nipples.

They couldn’t resist the urge to go to a corner, seemingly out of sight but not hiding, sharing slow kisses and breathless murmurs as their giant bellies pressed together. Their hands slid over the wide curves of one another’s swollen sides, tracing stretch marks and rubbing in lazy circles. They didn’t speak much during those moments, only moaning softly, holding each other tighter, and kissing again.

Then, there was Brady, who had emptied twelve cans, now weighing over 2,000 pounds. His body was a towering mountain of rounded muscle cushioned with overwhelming weight. Every inch of him was thick, wide, and impossibly fertile. His belly was enormous, tight, and firm, surging outward, swollen with 120 restless babies. It rose like a planet, and every square inch was alive with motion. Each kick and roll beneath the taut surface made his belly tremble, sending visible ripples across the wide landscape of stretched skin. He couldn’t help but rest his hands on it constantly, rubbing gentle circles over the mound as if to calm the chaos within.

Every movement he made was a spectacle. When he shifted even slightly, the ground seemed to register it. He let out satisfied sighs every other minute while caressing the upper curve of his belly or grunted softly as a sharp kick jabbed from the inside. He didn’t mind—it was part of the rhythm of carrying so much life.

His ass was a sight to behold, monumental and plush, pushing out behind him like a living throne the size of two small cars and grounding him in place with its immense girth. His hips had flared to an impossible width, and when he turned, it took a moment for the rest of him to catch up. His chest had become two colossal milk-heavy globes, resting heavily atop his belly. Despite their immense mass, he embraced his heavy tits, cradling one lazily now and then or leaning forward to give them a slow rub when they tingled with fullness.

His arms were thick with muscle layered under soft dad-fat, giving his embraces unmatched depth and comfort. A velvety trail of dark fuzz stretched from the underside of his pecs down the full swell of his enormous belly, vanishing beneath its curve where his seven-foot-long cock lay mostly obscured in comparison to the rest of him. His balls were wide-set and car-sized, helping brace him as he sat, nestled against the floor like anchors.

His tank top had ridden up, barely covering the upper arc of his pecs and exposing the rest of his magnificent chest and taut belly. His shorts had become more of a tight bikini, clinging desperately to the curve of his wide hips and generous ass. The fabric strained with every breath as the waistband sank into the shelf of flesh it could no longer contain.

His voice was now a rich bass that resonated in the bones. He laughed more softly now, and his deep chuckles rumbled through his belly like distant thunder. The cocky frat bro had melted into something else entirely—an impossibly huge, endlessly affectionate father figure who exuded calmness and playfulness in every glance, every belly rub, every knowing wink. He was “the dad of all dads.” It was his new slogan.

Brady rested like a living monument in the center of the living room as every inch of him glistened in the soft glow of the fairy lights strung across the ceiling. His cock lazily drooled and pulsed along with his heartbeat. It pressed against the curve of his belly and drooped slightly to one side, unable to stay fully upright under the weight of his middle. His nipples dribbled beads of milk down the canyon of his chest, and his huge balls rolled gently apart where they were cushioned on either side by two folded beanbag-sized pillows, letting the other bros get close without disturbing him too much.

Brady looked drunk on bliss. He tilted his head back, his cheeks flushed, and a hand sluggishly rubbed the top of his belly. He moaned softly, too heavy to shift much but too full of need to stay still. “Dude... I’m so full,” he groaned, slowly pushing himself forward to reach more of his belly. “And so damn needy…”

Some of the bros heard him, and the nearest stepped closer. They were still basking in their own weighty glory. Their cocks were half-erect, bouncing against their heavy thighs and straining the fabric of their shorts as they surrounded him. Each of them had drunk between three and six cans, and their bellies swayed, and their asses and pecs jiggled as they stood around their colossal brother.

Zander was the first to slide in close, brushing his lips across Brady’s massive pec. “You’re burning up, man,” he whispered, pressing a hand to the underside of the milk-heavy globe and giving it a kneading lift. “Gotta cool you down.”

A slow squirt of milk arced upward, landing across Brady’s belly with a lazy splash. Brady groaned at the touch and arched what little he could as Zander kept teasing him. Tanner quickly followed Zander’s lead and attached his lips around Brady’s free nipple, making the big guy moan even more in pure bliss.

Jamal stood behind Brady’s plush ass, brushing his belly against the immense cheeks before reaching forward to knead the mounds. “You’re too huge to carry this on your own, bro,” he said, lovingly. “Let us help…”

One by one, they took to him like worshipers at the altar of fertility. Zander latched onto one of Brady’s fat, leaking nipples, sucking deeply as his belly bumped gently into Brady’s hip. Noel took hold of Brady’s leaking cock and guided as much of it as he could into both arms, wrapping his body around it with deep affection. He gave it long, loving strokes, moving his hands up and down the length as his lips kissed the huge tip.

But it was too much cock for one bro. Dustin wrapped his arms around the immense cock and helped Noel stimulate it with firm strokes that made Brady shiver and moan louder. Dylan stood by the base, cradling one of Brady’s immensely swollen balls, rolling it gently, and firmly massaging the taut surface. Mickey was right behind him, working the other testicle in slow motion and brushing his belly against it.

Brady let out a groan so deep it shook the floor as his head fell back and his entire massive form twitched. “Ohhhh man... oh fuck... that feels unreal…” he moaned, moving his hands over the sides of his belly in an attempt to deal with the sensations.

The combined worship sent waves of pleasure rippling through him. His chest heaved, but Zander and Tanner continued sucking. His belly jiggled, but some of the bros continued rubbing it. His cock twitched in Noel’s and Dustin’s arms. His balls trembled and churned under Mickey and Dylan’s massage. Brady was drowning in sensation as his whole world narrowed to the heat of their touches and the unbearable pressure building inside his overfilled frame.

Dylan nuzzled under Brady’s belly, pressing his face into the dense patch of fuzz below his navel and exhaling warmly. “Still smells like beer,” he teased with a low laugh, kissing along the curve where belly met thigh. “And man, you taste even better.”

As Brady began to pant and writhe softly, Jamal shifted behind him. The swell of Brady’s ass welcomed him in, parting slightly with each slow thrust of his hips. Jamal was careful as he slid his 4-foot-long, thick cock inside, with his hands planted firmly on Brady’s hips. But that gentleness was laced with hunger, and the moment he bottomed out, his hips pressed flush against Brady’s plush butt, and a deep growl escaped his throat.

Brady’s reaction was instant. His back arched as much as it could under his weight, and his eyes flew open for a moment only to roll shut with a shuddering gasp. “Fuuuuck... YES…” he howled. His belly jiggled from the force of the movement, and his enormous cock twitched violently as thick dribbles of precum surged out in time with every thrust.

His hands spread over the immense curves of his side, like holding on for dear life. Every stroke sent a quake through his overloaded body. His massive balls tightened, his nipples shot more milk into Zander and Tanner’s mouths, and his cock leaked even more pre-cum as he panted through gritted teeth.

“Oh shit—don’t stop—don’t stop—oh my god—” Brady cried out.

The closeness was overwhelming—skin on skin, belly against lower back, the sound of wet heat, and the soft slap of heavy bodies colliding. Brady’s entire body was trembling, glistening with sweat, and his cock jerked with such force that Noel and Dustin had to hold on tighter to stay wrapped around it. Every nerve in Brady’s new body was singing, overloaded, overworked, overfilled—and loving every second of it.

The others continued to worship—kissing his thighs, rolling his balls between their palms, licking at the rivulets of milk that ran down the slopes of his chest because Noel and Tanner couldn’t handle the amount coming out. The moment was so intense that Jamal couldn’t hold back for long as he fucked Brady. He soon was thrusting harder and faster, and his cock throbbed hard, sending massive shots of cum deep into Brady’s guts and making him inflate with cum. The big guy moaned loudly as he felt his belly expanding in all directions with Jamal’s torrent of cum.

When Jamal finally pulled out, another brother was ready to take his place. They took turns, one after the other, always raw and intense to satisfy Brady’s enormous body. And Brady, too huge to move much, just took it—moaning, flexing his ass, milking them for every thrust, every drop of cum they had in their enormous balls. His body could only focus on breeding and getting filled over and over again with more cum. He was the real dad of all dads.

All around the room, the rest of the bros were lost in their own passion. There were laughs and moans as they fucked endlessly. Bros leaned against each other, sucking from full nipples or licking sweat from collarbones. They rubbed their bellies together and kissed like it was the only language they had left.

After taking their turn with Brady, Tanner and Mikey tangled up on an oversized couch, shirtless and giggling, kissing and caressing each other’s cocks as their cocky energy melted into something sweeter, lazier, and so much more fatherly. In the corner, Tyson had Noel pinned against a wall with such intensity that Noel could only cry out, moan, and beg for more. The whole house turned into a temple of dadhood, growth, and pleasure.

All along, more bros kept fucking Brady, and he moaned louder as another wave of cum entered him, making the babies kick wildly, his nipples leaked milk like waterfalls, his cock shot long strings of precum that flooded the space around him. He was barely conscious at this point as his belly inflated even more, full with gallons upon gallons of cum. He trembled all over, stretching his arms wide. His ass clenched as the sixteenth brother fucked him deep and slow, and the enormous balls slapped softly against his ass cheeks.

“Dude! I’m… I’m not gonna last…” Brady panted, overwhelmed and so intensely pent up that he felt like his balls would burst. “I’m gonna—hnngh—gonna explode…”

But they didn’t stop. They didn’t even slow down. One of the bros kissed Brady’s lips. Another stroked his belly. Another rubbed his belly against his massive cock. And another gently squeezed his leaking tits and whispered, “Let it happen, big guy. We’re here. You’ve got us.”

Brady couldn’t control it any longer and let out a shout as he came. His cock flexed wildly, shooting like a geyser across the room. His body quaked from the release, his belly jiggled like a trembling planet, and milk shot from his tits in thick streams. The room erupted in cheers, laughter, and gasps of awe as the immense cum load continued coming, and the whole floor was soon covered in a thick layer of sticky cum.

Brady exhaled, slowly opening his eyes, still blissfully high. “Man… I need more,” he whispered. “You better keep going because I can’t stop now,” he said as the seventeenth brother positioned himself behind him, the rest continued their own fucking, and his cock continued shooting endlessly.

****

The next morning, things had completely changed in the expansive frat house—no, family house. It had only been a few hours since the wild crescendo of last night’s chug-fest, but to the men of the house, this life had always been their reality. A hundred-pound baby bump was normal. Feeding squirming little ones at the chest while a seven-foot-long cock hung lazily between their legs was just another Tuesday. The world outside may have turned, but inside this lovingly warped home, the men were kings, soft, stocky, strong, and absolutely, gloriously full.

Brady stirred in the central lounge, still lying belly-up on a reinforced couch built precisely to hold his titanic form. He let out a soft grunt as he rocked himself forward. Every inch of his over 2,000-pound dadbod responded with a wobble, a creak, and a slosh. His belly had expanded immensely since last night—not only was he still carrying the 120 large babies from his initial binge of twelve Dadbod cans, but also the result of an entire night of being pumped full of his brothers’ cum.

His rounded abdomen stretched so far in front of him that it pushed up into his chest, parting the overstuffed pillows of his pecs and raising them even further. His nipples were still tender and beaded with milk, and his happy trail looked more like a thick forest now. His balls rested permanently on the ground, immensely full with cum. His cock was permanently hard, making him move carefully to avoid knocking into others with it.

He smiled, carefully bracing himself against the plush arms of the custom-built furniture. His ass spilled off either side of the seat, jiggling as he pushed himself up. His gait had slowed even more today. It was an immense, majestic waddle with each shift of weight, but Brady loved it. Each movement reminded him how full he was, how fertile, how powerful. His shorts, if they could still be called that, clung around the immense ass like a stretched-out bikini. His top had ridden up in the night, barely shielding his soft boobs.

He passed Tyson in the hallway, who grinned and gave a gentle slap to his own massive belly. Tyson’s six-pack of Dadbod had left him looking like a 650-pound fertility god. His round ass pressed into the hallway wall, and one hand nursed a squealing newborn while the other scratched the back of his neck. In this new reality, all the bros had been pregnant before, which is why everything felt so normal. They weren’t cocky jocks anymore; they were dads. In some cases, they had been dads for years. It was their normal.

“Morning, Big Daddy,” Tyson chuckled. “Slept well?”

“Most of the night until the babies woke up,” Brady grinned back, cupping the underside of his swollen belly with both hands. “You?”

“Didn’t sleep. Too busy feeding the little ones. Jamal’s in the kitchen flipping pancakes,” Tyson added, rubbing the sides of his middle.

Brady continued panting until he reached the kitchen. He couldn’t help but smile when he entered. Jamal, also in the 60-kid club, wore a stretched tank barely holding over his massive pecs. He flipped pancakes by the dozen, each one landing on a stack nearly two feet high. Zander and Noel lounged at the breakfast table, both leaning back with infants suckling from their broad chests. The dining room was filled with other bros—some bouncing babies on their knees, others changing diapers, and several sitting casually with massive balls resting on the ground, with several babies sleeping atop their bellies.

There was laughter, cooing, the sound of suckling mouths, and bubbling syrup. Brady rubbed his immense gut with both hands, letting out a deep, rumbly sigh as he stepped into the room. His belly gurgled audibly under the weight of everything inside—thick with life, both from the babies growing within and the immense load of cum his brothers had left him last night.

Zander looked up and grinned. “Morning, Big Daddy. You’re glowing.”

“Thanks,” Brady said, resting one hand on his belly and waddling to the fridge. He opened the oversized double doors, accidentally bumping his belly against the edge, and he saw countless cans of Dadbod still waiting for them.

Brady stared at them. His fingers curled around one, lifting it from the shelf. The metal was cold in his hand. His mouth watered, eager to drink it all, as his mind subconsciously shouted for him to get even fuller by drinking the beer. However, he gave a soft chuckle, shook his head, and gently placed the can back in the fridge.

“We didn’t even go through half the beer we bought. We’ll work on that after we pop these kids out,” he said calmly and closed the fridge.

Then, Brady waddled into the living room again, easing himself down onto the reinforced couch. He gathered four of his youngest babies from his last pregnancy—chubby, giggling bundles swaddled in blue and yellow—and nestled two of them gently against his massive chest. They latched instinctively, and his entire body sighed in relief.

Brady looked around and smiled, noticing the other brothers all taking care of their babies. He was the biggest, the fullest, and the most fertile. Everything was great. He loved his bros. He loved their family and was proud of what they had. And more importantly, everything was exactly as it was meant to be.

THE END

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This is a HOT story commissioned by the great @trtyutr. Go check his profile on Tumblr. I 100% recommend it.