Triumph of the Dads

[©2010 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS OVER THE AGE OF 18; NO EVENTS DESCRIBED ARE TRUE; STORIES HAVE A 'HARDER EDGE' THAN MOST; BE WARNED; HERE BE DRAGONS]

[CAVEAT: if you're a father and are sick of son betters dad and wins mom stories, keep reading. If you always want the son to win, then look elsewhere; for once, the snooty upstart son has his lunch handed to him, to mom's amusement.]

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My name is James. I lived alone with my parents until I was 18. My dad was an executive with an aeronautics firm. My mom was a housewife. They were both 44 at the time. Both dad and mom went to an athletic club; it was an exclusive club and I was not invited. They offered me membership in a local gym, but I thought computer games in the basement were a much better use of time.

I have to confess that I wasn't really knocking them dead in high school. My grades were only so-so. I'm afraid that my physical education classes were a total disaster, as I had let Halo and other games make me a pasty faced, blob. In my senior year, when we had weight training, I could barely lift my own weight (i.e. stand up), let alone bench twice it. I think my low point came when a girl, 18 on the field hockey team said that I was a "wuss".

I said that those were fighting words and that even a girl had to accept a challenge.

To my dismay, she did. Why dismay? Her parents had prevailed upon the school for equal opportunity, and this very comely lass was allowed to take the weight training class after mine! At the end of my class, as I struggled to lift my own weight in iron, she jumped in after me and did it instantly. Her two friends then put twice her weight on the bar and she did that too. God, she was going to kick my ass!

At the fight place after school, there was a circle of her snooty girl friends, including the school cheerleader squad...in uniform! My supporters were, umm, invisible... We started the match and she had me pinned in under 1 minute, with a beg for mercy in 90 seconds, a tearful plea in two minutes, and a triumphant pose for the iPhones with her putting her barefoot on my prostrate beaten bloblike body and her flexing an impressive 17 inch bicep. As the video cameras rolled for YouTube, she grabbed me by the collar and made me eat grass. She ended it cheerfully by shoving my face into something a stray pet left on the field, then lifting me by the collar to show my face for the YouTube camera. I was so proud.

Humiliated in school, my only solace was sloppy MENTAL seconds with my mom. No, we had never had the slightest physical contact; she had not even kissed me since she used to tuck me into bed, some 7 years before this, my 18th birthday. My chief thrill, sadly, came that night at about 2 am. As usual, father had come home on Friday after a hard weeks' work. Mom would have been to the athletic club that day and would be in peak form. My mom was 44 but had a spectacular figure; if you ever saw Inger Stevens in Guide for the Married Man when she does that breathtaking calisthenics in a white leotard...well, that was my mom exactly except she had dyed hair and a slightly darker complexion. So, here I was peeping out of my slightly ajar door, watching mom sneak into the guest bathroom, her well-fucked (by father and not me unfortunately) cunt dripping some of the copious load of seed that he had pumped into mom's possibly fertile vagina. The white foam smeared in two directions, matting her welcoming hair down there, and then messing up her silky smooth thighs. She ran into the bathroom, only to emerge 15 minutes later all shiny and new.

It was at that point that I decided that I wanted my own mom, and badly. I went to my mirror for self-inspection. Standing there in my birthday suit, I flexed my mighty muscles. Oops, there did not seem to be any bulge in those arms...they just lay flat like my grandmother's arms. I looked down at my mighty tool, hoping that could save the day. I thought of my gorgeous mom in that hallway, just dripping the very seed of life. My tool reached 4, maybe 4 ½ inches. Then, I thought of that field hockey hooligan; that tomboy bully who had secretly gotten immensely strong for the express purpose of humiliating me. My tool remembered that too, and retreated to 3 ½, then 3 inches. My family jewels were more like pebbles, with a volume like two green peas.

I was sick of failing and decided that I would barge ahead. I would win mom's heart and take her away with me to...well, I couldn't think that far ahead. Anyway, I would work out a campaign to woo my mom. Step one was today.

I went to the breakfast table. To my astonishment, dad was sitting there reading the paper when mom told me to look away and then proceeded to get his thing out, get it up, and then ride it. The newspaper went all over the kitchen as mom's beautiful bum was bouncing in his lap. This was right in front of me to my jealous horror. After about 15 minutes of the most sensuous action I had ever seen, dad stood up, with mom still attached, he pressed her hard against the kitchen wall, came deep inside of her. They kissed. She sagged to the floor. He picked her up and gently placed her in the living room on the couch. He left to go to work. Now THAT was a send-off that I could appreciate.

Just imagine now the hopelessness of my quest; I wanted mom now more than ever. The problem was that dad was no sissy, pansy, or tiny dick. I never really investigated the matter, but there was the danger that he might in fact exceed even me in some categories. But, I had to try. School dating (is there such a thing?) hadn't gone well, and mom was by far the hottest lady I knew. I thought if mom knew I was interested, she'd jump at the chance.

Later that day, mom was doing the laundry in the very hot and crowded laundry room. I purposely tried to brush by her. I bent forward and said I was sorry if anything was poking her back there.

She said nothing was and it was no problem.

I thought that she'd be able to feel my hard-on (today a steely 3 ½ inches) but I'm afraid it was just like when I had tried to have sex...no female could feel me in there.

Desperate, I tried something else. Mom had a new bra which barely was big enough. I stole that bra which had a Maidenform size tag: 36D. Thinking of my gorgeous mom, I used her bra as a 'receptacle' for my jizz. I then returned it to her, hoping she'd be thrilled, honored, maybe turned on.

Well, it wasn't quite what I expected. As I handed her the bra, pointing out the (tiny, four droplet) 'mess' I made in there, she was less than thrilled.

As a matter of fact, she slapped me...hard. I cried, running out of the room. Plan 2 failed (plan 1 was the laundry room. I hoped I didn't have to get to plan 9...it didn't work in Outer Space and it wasn't going to work here either.)

Plan three was my final option. As mom walked in the corridor, wearing her traditional little green robe which ended mid-thigh, displaying her gorgeous legs and sexy, smooth feet, I proceeded to block her way. I gambled it all on my sales pitch: "Mom, dad doesn't deserve you. You need someone younger, more able to be a go-getter, someone healthier, stronger, and better in bed. And that would be me."

Mom started smiling. She said, "Jimmy, do you really want a showdown with your dad, now that you're 18. I mean, winner take all. If you win, he will give us the house and we can live here for free, leaving us to make mad passionate love all day. BUT, if you lose, you have to leave the house immediately. You get no family funds; in fact we seize any trust fund money set aside in your name. "

I was so confident that I "kicked it up a notch". I said: "How about this to really make it interesting? I have a digital 1080 camcorder that we can use for YouTube. Our contest can be re-broadcast on line to honor the winner (me of course) and humiliate the loser."

Mom thought that that would be great.

The fateful night was tonight. Camera all charged up and in place. The basement ready for our mano-a-mano, winner takes all contests. Who was going to be most macho and get mom and everything else? I was confident, even though I had never seen dad not wearing a business shirt. I also knew he worked out two days a week at the club (mom went 3 days), during the same time that I was playing on-line sword and sorcery games.

I got down to the basement and there were five stations set up. I had to outshoot (with my Johnson) him for distance, outlift him by Mr. Johnson power alone, outsize him by length, outmuscle him at the bicep, and finally outlift him.

Trying to look like a cheerleader or something (I guess), mom was wearing a barely opaque, atomic thin, white leotard, and waving pom-poms she got from my room. She was supposedly impartial, but I was hoping she'd quickly be swayed to the good guy's side (i.e. me). Unfortunately, I couldn't help but notice; every time that I performed, she repressed laughter that made her quake; every time that he performed, proving he was just more man than I was, her nipples loomed larger, and over her treasured opening that damp spot just got bigger and bigger.

Coming down the stairs was dad. Wearing a modern t-shirt and boxer shorts, his arms looked disturbingly large. Damn that athletic club he went to.

As mom sat at a judge's chair, the two contestants approached, so that she could start our 'engines'. As she stroked mine, I noticed that she had a plastic glove on the right hand (for me) but not one on his side. Impartial, hmmm? I was so angry about that slight matter that I didn't put my mind on my business. The final tally there was Jimmy 3 ¼ inches, dad 10 ½ inches...God, he was triple the man that I was!

I was understandably concerned about the Johnson lift contest, given the last results. Mom had little bundles that were 1, 5, 8,10, 15, and 20 pounds. My cute little dicky tried to lift the 1 pound weight, but 3 inches is not much leverage.

As mom left the room to burst out laughing, my little thing could lift up one first class letter, but not two. When she turned to him, she gave his mighty 10 inch tool a good luck yank (hey, foul! Oh, what was the use?)

They whispered what to do to end this contest.

He said that he could just do the one pound weight so as not to humiliate me.

Mom, still angry about my unwanted pathetic advances, said: "No, Mal, you have to put him in his place for now and forever. If you're man enough, lift that 20 lbs. and win me...you can do it...what a man!" I watched in goggle-eyed amazement as she applied that string, attached to a 20 lb. weight off the weight set, to his mighty love tool. Again, I could cry foul, as she kissed him and gave a last loving yank to his huge penis. Then, you could hear that dragging sound as the weight was dragged upright and then lifted off the floor, 20 lbs. of lead lifted by his mighty cockpower...

The next contest also had mom participating. It was the maximum shoot. Like a bowling contest, there were soda and condiment bottles set up 6 feet away. Just a few inches away, there was a Hello Kitty lunch kit, open, ready to receive stuff from any boy pretending to be a man.

Mom WAS fair and moved her gloved hand (on me) at the same speed as her other hand. I went off prematurely and did not even make it to the Hello Kitty lunch kit some 6 inches away. Next he came with a mighty grunt like that of a lion. His manly tool rose to 45 degrees and shot a mighty load. It splashed against the other wall of the basement, some 10 feet away. As the excess spunk fell to earth, it knocked over every single bottle.

The last two contests did not go well either. I proudly 'made a muscle' for the camera, and mom measured eleven inches. Then I saw him flex his muscles; I had never seen him since he joined that (damn) club; God, his biceps were huge now, like 22 inches, twice my diameter. Mom almost sounded orgasmic as she announced him again as the winner. My only hope was the total lift, with two separate hands of dumbbells, then barbells, and bench press. He went first this time, doing 100 lbs. of dumbbells in each hand, 350 lbs. on the barbells, and 600 lbs. on the bench, for a total of 1050 lbs. Once again, mom had to run to the bathroom to muffle her laughter, as my flabby no shape arms could only lift 20 lbs. in each arm, 50 lbs. on the barbell, and 100 lbs. on the press for a grandmotherly total of 190.

As I pathetically left the press station, having failed to lift the next stage, 150, mom took up my position and called for 220, twice her own weight and over twice what I could lift. Again, that damn health club. Mom lifted that weight with ease, doing 20 reps. He applauded as she mugged for the web cam. Being totally heartless, she celebrated her triumph by forcing me to the basement tile floor, putting her beautiful bare foot on top of my defeated carcass, and flexing her victorious muscles. It was the final humiliation and on YouTube: my own mothers' mundane 15 inch arms put mine to shame.

Well, they had me sign over any trust and personal savings accounts to them. After all, I had lost. Homeless and penniless, I would set up a flea ridden home in the men's shelter for now. My only possessions were my iPhone, my portable DVD player, and a worn toothbrush.

We at least received daily mail there. I received a DVD in the mail from home. Popping it into my personal DVD player at 5 am (for privacy), it was a greeting from the parents, hoping that I was doing well. They just wanted to re-assure me, if I was worried, that they would be replacing me as their child in the house with a new one. They thought that I would like to see it. Just before that, they informed me merrily that YouTube had happily accepted the contest with dad in their adult section and it was the most popular site on the web.

Mom said that I was now famous (as a wimp dick?)

So, now, finally, I put on the DVD of theirs.

Mom was the absolute vision of sex appeal, resplendent upon a field of small pillows at the center of the bed. Unfortunately for me, I had to watch my opponent, dad, have the honor, the privilege, and the duty, to service my glorious mother. They seemed to be synchronized in movement, for as he approached she pushed him down and he slid in easily. His hips clenched as he bottomed out. Mom moaned in pleasure. As my little DVD player flickered in the dark of the men's shelter great hall, an earphone muffling the sounds, I saw him get revved up. The bed springs were making sounds like a car going across concrete curb after curb, bouncing and jouncing. Finally, mom's gorgeous feet both went up in the air, feet pointed upwards, and then ankles locking around his waist. They kissed passionately, and finally, came mom's muffled shriek.

Simultaneous with that to the second, a white waterfall of excess goop started leaking out of mom's fertile vagina, dripping on the bed. His massive ten inch cock was ejected by the power of her cunt muscles, pop! A thin white waterfall now dripped and continued throughout the recording. He lay huffing and puffing on the bed while next to him, an equally exhausted mom reached into her nightstand and then showed the camera (i.e. me) her personal calendar, where the date on the camcorder matched her most fertile day. If that wasn't painful enough for me, they jump cut a few weeks later, showing live on disk the pregnancy test, which turned blue. Mom was knocked up...and I wasn't the one. The last scene had movers taking my teen bed and furniture out to a buzzsaw while cribs, basinets, and a bunk bed were set up for the next, 2nd tier family they were planning. That day's recording ended at their lovely dinner table as they shared a bottle of chilled Chablis to go with canard a l' orange. But I had it good too; we had Kool-Aid (the real stuff, too), vintage 1964, and bologna. Hmm good.

Three months later, they were watching the news when it said that a vagabond named James had been attacked while he slept at the mission. My face and full name were on the screen during the story.

Mom got very upset; she said: "Mal, I don't want to hear news about that vagabond or see that face while we're eating; can't you find anything more interesting...God!"

He apologized and put on the Wheel of Fortune. Mom watched with rapt attention to the whole show...