I used to be a pretty good & modest father. Caring for my son was a huge part of my identity. Now I'm a bad dad. This is the story of that downfall.

I know lots of dads walk around in their underwear, but that wasn't the case for me & my son Max. Even with his mom out of the picture, I never got out of the habit of always being fully-dressed around the house. Not a suit and tie or anything, but no less than what I'd wear out of the house.

One laundry day, though, early in the summer, I ran out of clean pants. Out of necessity, I spent a good portion of that day in my underwear & a t-shirt. And while I might be modest around the house, I won't spare any details here: I'm pretty hung, so it's not like my bulge isn't noticeable. I also take pride in wearing underwear that fits, so that exacerbated any shaft-highlighting qualities my clothed crotch may have otherwise had on my uncut 8-incher. To add to the picture you might be forming in your head, we're both badgers, with me stocky & bearded. As it will become relevant, my son's physique couldn't be more different: he's as small as your average young boy, and just as hairless. As far as the downstairs goes, he transitioned just a couple years ago, so has a pussy. I'm very proud of Max for standing up for who he is. Back to that day, though.

I learned three things that day: First, I found I quite enjoyed the comfort of being less dressed. Something about being able to move around my own house without the restriction of movement brings me joy.

Second, I learned that Max, at the ripe age of eleven, is very interested in men's bulges. More specifically, I found that he could hardly keep his eyes off of my crotch. Every conversation we had, all the activities we did together, and all the time in passing that day were littered with less-than-subtle glances directed between my legs. I knew nothing about my boy's sexuality, so these glances were hard to categorize as curiosity or sexual interest. This leads me to my third lesson:

I liked the attention no matter its motivation. A lot. I never knew this side of me until that day, but I can't deny that nearly every aspect is a turn-on, now. The fact that it's attention from another male, the fact that it's my own son. Even the fact that he's so young. I've been openly gay for years now, but the others came as a surprise to me. I'm sure I'd be aghast at myself if I didn't find it so hard to deny. My thoughts were occupied with how to explore this side of me, no room for shame or guilt. Some part of me is trying to stop me from becoming some sort of monster, sure, but it's a quiet part compared to the all-consuming flame of a new sexual interest.

So explore it I did. I started off pretty slow, wearing similar ensebles around the house when I know we'd spend time together. I'd ask him to spend extra time with me on those days, much to his seeming excitement. While we would swim in our backyard pool together before, I retired my swimming trunks & started wearing my speedos for those occasions. In the pool as well as indoors, I started engaging in more roughhousing. A little bit of wrestling is normal for a father and son, of course, but the specific attire involved, along with the frequency I'd ensure we'd arrive in compromising & suggestive positions would likely leave potential onlookers reason to suspect foul play.

Amidst this debauchery, I started encouraging Max to wear less clothes, himself. This led to more fur-on-fur contact between us, as per my intentions. The overall aesthetic at home became slowly more and more sexual. T-shirts turned into tank tops turned into topless. As my thick arms and torso became slowly more and more exposed over the days & weeks, my son's much smaller form did the same. My round but firm body contrasting his lithe one, his flat bulge contrasted my obvious one.

I'd start to leave the bathroom door open when I piss, and pretend not to notice my son peeking just around the door frame. After a little while, I invited him in to "wait his turn to pee", which was really just an opportunity to watch a man's cock do what cocks do. He was mesmerized.

All this time, I turned my porn habits in the same direction. It was a back & forth: I'd escalate with my son, find some porn online matching that energy & get some ideas how to escalate even more. I found all sorts of smut between men and boys, but was especially fond of those between seeming fathers and sons. More and more, I couldn't stop imagining myself (and living as) as a nasty pedophile father, slowly grooming & corrupting my own son. Maybe, subconsciously, I wanted a son so I could make him my live-in sex toy. He would think of his father's adult cock, how he'd serve it, and I'd encourage that every step of the way. As a strategic move, I'd leave a tab open "accidentally" when it was established Max would have alone time at the computer. Maybe I was showering, maybe I was mowing the lawn, but no matter what, Max knew he had some time on that computer to himself. At the same time, I started leaving some toys in the shower we shared.

I bought some weights for us to work out at home, and set a schedule for us to do so together. This gave us plenty of opportunities that I appreciated, such as my smell becoming a more prominent feature of Max's attention. The exercise was easy to excuse as an expense as Max was getting into some sports. This also made our underwear shopping more excusable, including the jockstraps we eventually started wearing around the house. Our local store sold jocks for trans guys, even in kids sizes, so it worked out.

Another development happened around this time that got me going. Some background: before this started, Max switched to calling me "dad" instead of "daddy", as kids his age are want to do. So, one day, I decide to see what I can do about that. He goes:

"Dad, where are my shoes?" The context for the question isn't so important as my response.

"You know, Max, I miss when you called me daddy."

"No one calls their dad daddy anymore," he says, likely referring to his classmates. I approach him, the whole of my body looming over my son.

"You'd do it for me though, right?" I reply, soliciting a gulp from Max. My naturally deep voice was noticeable here.

"Y-yes daddy."

That did it right there. Some part of him wanted to call me daddy, anyways, and the porn I left for him to see probably had an effect. From then on, I was his daddy again. This went hand-in-hand with Max obeying my orders more immediately, and directly. He fell in line especially quickly if I spoke firmly & with specific demands, whether that was to complete a chore or grab me a beer. Surprising for his age, I know, but maybe he just realized how much he liked getting bossed around by "daddy".

I had to have more, but at this point, I don't think I was alone. With his initiation, we hugged more frequently, cuddled on the couch more often, and even started sleeping in the same bed. The first few times, Max maintained the lie that he had a nightmare as his reason for joining me in bed, but eventually it just became the default. Our nights were full of "accidental" brushes against one-another's privates. I loved the feeling of my large hand on his body as we were getting comfortable at night. The way it absolutely dwarfed him in size really showed the dynamic between us, physically. He was my small son, vulnerable, and I was his father, ready & willing to take advantage of him.

Sleeping in the same bed really got me to go all in. I wasn't just testing the waters around molesting my son; I was finding the hottest way to do it. Every morning I woke up, spooning Max with my morning wood aching, I considered if that was the right moment. Every time he watched me piss, I thought about telling him to come over & drink from the tap. Every time we cuddled on the couch, I thought to myself "I could tell him to get comfortable between my legs instead. Get close & personal with what made him." Maybe he had similar thoughts, in those moments.

The seal finally broke one day when, through intention or happenstance, Max was mere inches from my morning wood, asleep. I could imagine him falling asleep to my musk, as close as he could get without waking me, and fell asleep. I realized in that moment that I didn't care if that explanation was actually what happened; I was going to get what I wanted anyways. Morning wood horny is a different level.

I grab him by the back of his head, shoving his face directly into my distended bulge. A quick jolt awake has him pull away, against my hand. It's no match, and he relents with his first breath. "Breathe," I command. He had no choice.

Trying to take my time, I take a moment to enjoy being worshipped. My scent, a basic thing my body produces, is powerful here. He's not resisting at all anymore, but that doesn't stop me from applying force. He's going to smell me & smell like me. It was time to move on. "Take it out."

He unwrapped my dick from the jock, peeling back the fabric. My cock, hard as can be, flung out & my balls finally got some air. I grabbed the back of my son's head & pushed it down to the root of my dick, making him smell the best parts.

"Lick," and he did. I tilt my head back, taking all the sensations in again. My son was worshiping my cock, his father's cock, a pedo's cock. He was getting used for my own pleasure, and pleasure me he will. He'll never be the same after his own father stuffs him with dick. He moans, I moan. I lifted his head up by his hair, a strand of drool drifting lazily from his mouth. I directed him manually toward the tip of my dick.

"Kiss," and he did that, too. He heeded to the insistence in my tone, taking the task seriously. The eleven-year-old started making out with the tip of my adult cock like it was his prom date, my foreskin enshrouded his lips. Without direction, he advanced his mouth down the length of me, lips & tongue active all the way. He looked up at me innocently a few times. While I had no delusions of Max being able to fit my fat cock in his mouth, Max was still perfectly capable of servicing me with his tongue this way. If I wanted to move things forward, though, if I wanted to get my dick inside of my child (and I did), I would have to choose a different hole. This boy needed to be wrecked by my meat.

"Come here," I demanded, moving him by his torso so his face was near mine, and proceeded to make out with my son. It was bliss; filling Max's mouth with my tongue, showing him how adults kiss each-other, feeling his body with my thick hands, and my hard dick lightly resting on his leg. Heaven.

As per usual, I needed more. I started fully grabbing his ass, returning a moan into my mouth. He's small enough that my dick wasn't very close to his crotch during this, but I needed to change that. While maintaining our locked lips, I slid his jock down, exposing his pussy to me. While my son's hole rested directly on my soft torso, I stroked his back with one hand, my dick with the other.

Breaking the kiss, I grabbed his hips and maneuvered his whole body so that my cock's weight rested fully on his cunt. The proportions were ridiculous, but that made it better. I hope he tried some of the toys I left in the shower.

"Daddy, I-" he started. A brief (but altogether too weak) moment of humanity entered me. Quashing it was arousing, so I did. I didn't care what he was going to say, Max was going to get dicked down for the first time by his pedo father.

"- I love you," he finished. That does it, he's getting fucking destroyed by this cock.

"I raised my boy right. Love you too." I replied. And I meant every word. With that, I raised Max until I could line him up my dick. I slowly lowered my son down, his lips starting to envelop my cock head. His young pussy, deeper and deeper, parted to make way for my thick adult cock. I lowered him, slowly as to savor the feeling, with not a single complaint by the time his clit rested on the thicker fur near my crotch. The visuals were stunning: Max, at only eleven, tilted his head back as his hairy father hilted his fat dick into him. I guided, or even manhandled him with my hands on his waist; I think I could feel my own dick inside of him with one of my thumbs.

"Good boy." His moans turned to whimpers, mine into growls. A single day's worth of glances turned into this. He couldn't keep his eyes of my dick, so he got it. And I'm going to keep giving it to him, today and the next. If my boy liked dick so much, maybe I can find other pedos to stuff him full, give him a full schedule. With my thrusts, I couldn't stop my dirty talk from being verbalized.

"I could have been doing this sooner, you know." I pulled him up the shaft. He was so damn wet.

"With how much of a pedo your old man is, I can't think of an age where I would have said no." Back down.

"That is what's happening right now, you know? Your pedo father is molesting you. Raping you." Back up, along with our own moans in unison.

At his age & with the hormone therapy, it was quite unlikely that he could have been knocked up, but consequences be damned even if it were likely. In fact, the fact that it's possible started to turn me on. My thrusts sped up, and I got closer to cumming.

"Are you ready to be knocked up by your dad?" I asked, not even sure that he knew what "knocked up" even meant. The dirty talk was for me, not him. I was quickly approaching climax.

"I'm going to cum deep inside of you, are you ready?" I asked, not really caring about the answer. But he was a good boy, and responded quickly.

"Please cum inside me, daddy," he replied, a very good boy.

I thrust him all the way down onto me, threw my head back, and began to unload inside of him. I'm certain the noises I made were guttural & growl-like, but I was so overwhelmed by the complete euphoria of the situation that I failed to form memories of the moment. My next memory is Max laid against my chest, my cock still lightly surging inside of him, while I'm absolutely bathed in bliss. I decided, here (reaffirmed, really), that this was my life, now. I didn't want to go back, even if I could.

I pulled my son into a kiss, less frantic but just as raunchy as before. If I want this to keep going, I better check on him every once in a while, at least.

"How's it going, Max?" I asked a little lethargically. Consequences of just shooting the best load of your life.

"Amazing, daddy." He replied. I knew that this was just the start of a fun ride.