Chapter 3

Chad hoped he’d never see his father again. If he did, he swore, he’d give him a good punch in the face – though Chad looked at himself in the mirror and realized this wouldn’t end well for himself.

His father was a beast. And he, Chad himself? Nothing but the runt of his enormous litter.

Chad wasn’t resentful. He was just a bit ... down most of the time.

Daddy Chad had hundreds of children at this point. Not much time left to pay attention to any of them. “Sorry, kid,” Chad remembered his father’s words. “But there’s a whole world out there I haven’t explored. Or fucked.”

Chad remembered his words, yes, and the chuckles that usually followed them. Deep chuckled, a grave laughter, like a hammer in the bosom of the earth.

Boom ... Boom ... Boom...

Chad’s father was a piece of a man. He was probably The Man, you know. The only man that mattered. The only man who has ever existed – everybody else being a woman in comparison.

“Damn you, dad...” Chad grumbled often, but didn’t rue his fate too much. He knew it was bad for the soul, and anyway, it was useless.

He wouldn’t grow any taller or stronger because of it. So he just... whatever.

He carried on with his life and hoped that something, someday would improve. That his fate would change and perhaps, just maybe, a little bit of his father’s genes would finally show up to him.

He carried on and enjoyed his life, which, in that tiny, bucolic town in the US mountains, was as pleasant as life could be.

Chad’s dad was a 6’8’’ stud with wild black hair and 300 to 400 pounds of muscle. Were not for his generous height, he would look too swole for his own good, like a bodybuilder always “on season.”

Chad’s dad was a hunk and a stud. Everywhere he went, he left a trail of pregnant bellies behind. It’d been like this since forever, as soon as the young stallion had hit puberty.

“Sorry, kid, but you will know my troubles when it happens to you,” his dad told him, and Chad ignored him, because...

“Maybe your good genes skipped this kid, dad,” Chad grumbled. “I’m nothing like you.”

The only thing Chad remembered was his father’s embrace, yes, and his caring playfulness with his hair, rubbing his huge fist on his head and making his hair even wilder and all messy.

“Trust me, kid. You’re probably gonna be the best of my litter,” his dad said, and then left it at that, jumping off to another city and another dozen of pregnant bellies.

Chad envied his dad’s ability to swoon any woman and impregnate on the same night. Actually, on the spot, most of the time – though “ability” might not have been the right word for it, as Chad’s dad did not put any effort into anything in his life, Lord of Slackers as he was, and instead his body, beauty, and bulge did all the work for him.

Women spotted him.

Women wetted themselves.

Women dripped for him.

Women fucked him. Or got fucked by him (whichever was his mood at the moment).

It was just that, all the time, on and on again.

Sure, Chad’s dad was unmistakably charismatic and smooth; probably the greatest sweet-talker and sincerely funniest dude alive, with a personality to match his body and looks, but even his personality rarely got the time to shine after women were almost completely, wholly entranced by his abnormal physique.

There were beautiful men, there were hot men, there were super hot men, and then there was Chad’ dad! Even Chad felt a little ... weird around his groin when looking at pictures of his dad.

“Jesus, Dad...”

His junk got hard.

His dad was really fucking hot. Stupidly hot. The hottest man alive. So hot that, even if he had been, indeed, a complete psychopath, neither Chad nor anyone would ever really put any blame on him, or even just see any fault on the man.

He was just too hot. After a certain level of hotness, you see, one rises above all crime and flaw, and reality itself becomes the playground for his most depraved, degenerate whims.

Chad’s dad, though, was a real man. Good and wholesome and all that, if completely lazy and carefree. His biggest debauchery was going from town to town, picking up women, knocking up them, and leaving them behind to repeat the process.

“Men were made to breed,” he often said with the biggest, dumbest grim on his face and two or three ladies in his arms, themselves purring, giggling, and rubbing their swollen bellies. Beautiful, pregnant mommies whom he had blessed with his seed. “You will know it when you get of age. You will know it – and then you’ll never stop!” He gloated, he laughed, and then he went on to fuck those ladies like they weren’t even pregnant, but instead in deep, urgent need of his seed.

Chad hated his father. And he envied him. He envied his capacity to just ... look at a woman, and then, seconds later, have her in his arms rubbing the swollen, wet mound of her pussy in his outrageous bulge.

Chad knew the power his father held in his bulge. When looking at his own penis, he wondered if he’d would ever grow to match one-third of his old man. “I guess I did skip those genes.”

Chad grumbled and carried on, and for years and years on end, long after most kids around his age had reached puberty, Chad remained unremarkable. Indeed, the ultimate symbol of unremarkability: so thoroughly average and uninteresting that, in the end, no one noticed him. No one ever bothered to notice him even when they stared straight at him.

Like a ghost. Or air, but completely unessential.

Chad did not exist – and he liked it this way. Well, he did not “like it”, but he’d made peace with it, and like his father, he was quite lazy and carefree. A typical slacker, though with none of the good mood and good humor often associated with these types in 80s American movies.

Chad was just there, and he learned to live with this. He enjoyed nature and the secludedness, the isolation of that small town where his father paid for his education.

Chad had chosen that place. It was nice. It was quaint. It was uneventful, and he figured that, as an added bonus, his father would rarely come by and leave a trail of knocked up beauties to either embarrass or harass him (Chad did not enjoy female company that much).

One of the country’s top schools was there. Secluded place for rich kids and all that.

His father paid for it, kissed his son goodbye, and that was it.

Chad’s dad was also rich, but that’s a matter for another topic, maybe another story. It doesn’t really matter, does it? A man with his size, beauty, and attributes would come about money no matter what. Women spoiled him, and his sexual playfulness often involved a lot of wealth:

“You pay me ten grand for every minute of orgasms I give you.” He set a stopwatch. “Go.”

At the end of the night, he came out $10 million richer. He was just that kind of man.

Even though he had hundreds of kids at this point, they were all well-off and without want or need, and not even Chad, the runt of the litter, went unspoiled or unprotected. “Whatever you need, kid, I’ll be there for you. In spirit or wallet, if not money.”

His dad laughed and laughed and laughed, and Chad learned to laugh as well – and that was that. Chad carried on with his quaint, unremarkable routine, and tried figuring out what to do with his life after boys started hitting their puberty (and hitting endless pussy with it) left and right around him.

Ten years. Twelve. Thirteen. The oldest friend he knew reached his puberty at fourteen, and Chad remained what he was: a clumsy, awkward little pale stick. Not even height had blessed him, having him remain five-feet-something where everyone around him sprouted way past six feet.

“Goddamn it, dad,” Chad grumbled and carried on.

He carried on and on until 16. That’s when puberty hit him. That’s when puberty crashed upon him like a meteor extinguishing the dinosaurs. “Oh. Oh, no!”

He lived his quaint little life until he was 16 ... and after that, life did an 180 on him, and if he wasn once dying of cold, now he would be dying of heat.