Note: this story contains scenes of father-son incest.
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"Wake up, sleepyhead."
Oliver felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and rolled over to see his dad smiling at him.
"Happy birthday, son. You feel like a man today?"
Oliver sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He'd almost forgotten what day it was.
"I don't know," Oliver said sleepily. "What does 18 feel like?"
"You tell me," his dad said, smirking. "It's been a couple of decades since I was that age, myself."
His dad sat on the corner of his bed, already dressed in his work suit. His hand was still on Oliver's shoulder.
Oliver suddenly noticed that he was nearly naked underneath the covers. In fact, his blanket was only just barely covering his morning wood. He tried to surreptitiously cover himself.
His father laughed. "You know, I've seen you naked a million times, son. There's nothing to be ashamed of."
Oliver blushed. He still felt self-conscious about his body around his dad. Compared to his father, who was a muscular, burly man, Oliver was much more slender. His lack of muscle made him feel inferior in comparison.
In fact, when it came to father and son, they couldn't be more different. Oliver's height of 5'7" was nothing compared to his dad's 6'3" towering frame. Even their hair was different — Oliver had light blond hair, while his father had dark black hair that was graying slightly on the sides. And whereas Oliver had almost no body hair, his father had coarse black hair covering his chest, arms, and legs.
Even first thing in the morning, sitting on Oliver's bed in his work suit, his dad reeked masculinity. Oliver could see his arm hair poking out from underneath his cufflinks as his dad continued to rub his smooth shoulder with his hand.
Weirdly, Oliver could feel himself growing even harder at the feeling of his father's touch. What the hell? He must still be half asleep.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, thanks for the birthday wishes, dad. I'll see you at dinner tonight."
His father stood up, picking up his briefcase off the ground.
"7 pm at I Soda, don't forget. They're crazy busy on a Friday night but I made the reservations way in advance. We'll meet back here and then head there around 6?"
"Okay," said Oliver.
His dad leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. Oliver could feel the scratch of his 5 o'clock shadow tickling him, causing him to shy away.
"I love you, Ollie. She'd be so proud of you."
He touched Oliver's cheek, rubbing him softly. Oliver nodded.
"Happy birthday, and I'll see you tonight!"
With that, his dad was gone. Oliver lay back against his pillow, his erection tenting up the blanket covering him. He put his hand on it and stroked it lazily. Surely he had time to rub one out before school.
He closed his eyes as his thoughts drifted to his girlfriend Ashley.
As he stroked his cock, his mind filled with Ashley's soft red hair and curvy frame, he found himself going limp.
Hmm. Perhaps he hadn't been horny after all. It must have just been a bit of morning wood.
As Oliver walked into school a couple of hours later, he met up with Ashley in the hallway outside first period.
"Happy birthday, booboo bear!" she said, kissing him on the cheeks.
"Thanks," he said as he took her hand. They walked down the hall towards her first class.
"I'm sorry I won't be around this weekend," she said, pouting. "My dad's making me get up ass crack early tomorrow to catch the morning tour at UMD."
"It's okay," said Oliver. "We can just do something next weekend. Maybe after my swim meet Saturday?"
"I'll be there with bells on," she said cheerily. "So, I'm sure you're devastated I won't be there tonight, but what DO you have planned?" she asked.
"My dad's taking me out to eat in the city. We go to this Italian place every year... well, almost every year."
Ashley hugged him. He closed his eyes, breathing in her scent. She smelled sweet and citrusy, like pomegranate. He found her perfume comforting. It reminded him of his mother's.
"I think that is so cute," she said as they ended the hug and continued walking to class. "I love that you and your dad are so close. I'm jealous, my dad's a total garbage person."
"He can't be that bad," Oliver said. "He's always friendly to me."
Ashley rolled her eyes. "That's because you're a guy. He's such a misogynist. And a bible thumper. You know he told me he doesn't even want me going to college in the first place? He thinks I'm just going to get my MRS degree."
Oliver gave her a playful nudge. "Well, aren't you?" he asked, winking.
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, fuck off," she said, laughing.
He dropped her off at her class, kissing her goodbye before he headed to first period.
Oliver barely paid attention during class. High school felt like a moot point since he'd already gotten Early Admission into West Virginia University on a swimming scholarship. His mind wandered during all of his classes that day, sifting through various thoughts.
The feeling of his dad's hand on his bare shoulder.
His father's arm hair poking out of his cufflinks.
His mother's perfume.
He didn't know why, but his birthday seemed to be bringing up a lot of memories of his mother. He thought about the year before, when he was too grief-stricken to go out for his birthday. Oliver's dad had tried to persuade him to keep up the tradition, but he locked himself in his room and refused to come out.
Oliver had taken his mother's death pretty hard. He had only been a few months shy of 17 at the time, and her death had been unexpected, to say the least. He'd been in shock for the first few months, but with the help of a good therapist and his dad, he felt like he had really started to come to terms with it.
After the final bell rang, Oliver headed to the school's weight room for a quick workout before swim practice.
"Hurry up and spot me, dude. I'm doing this set to failure," said his friend Manny. He was sitting on the flat bench underneath a barbell loaded up with at least 20lbs too much weight.
Oliver rushed to stand behind the bench as he helped Manny unrack the weight. He stood over him to spot him, looking down at Manny's rippling arm muscles as he lowered the bar to his chest.
"Man, you look ripped right now," said Oliver in quiet awe.
He would kill to have muscles like Manny. Manny was on the wrestling team, so he'd been training for a lot longer than Oliver had.
Oliver watched as Manny struggled under the bar, lifting it up one, two, three times, his muscles bulging.
Manny was an absolute lady-killer, a Bulgarian guy with tan skin, thick, dark hair, and a strong jawline. He had turned 18 a couple of months before Oliver, and in that short amount of time had already gotten several tattoos to cover his muscular build.
Oliver looked over at himself in the mirror next to the bench press. As a swimmer, he had a much slimmer build. He checked out his frame, lifting his shirt to check out his tan stomach. He had a tight body and somewhat well-defined abs, which he was pleased with.
But Oliver was still self-conscious about his size, envious of the guys like Manny and his father who reeked of testosterone with every step they took.
Manny was Oliver's best friend. He'd been pretty surprised the month before when Oliver asked him to start training him, but he'd agreed nonetheless. Oliver had yet to see the results he wanted, but he had to admit that his arms and chest were looking a bit more pumped than they had the month before. He still had a long way to go if he wanted to measure up to his dad.
"Bro!" Manny said, struggling to lift the bar back up.
Oliver snapped out of his reverie, grabbing the bar and helping Manny put it back on the rack.
"Thanks, man," said Manny as he sat up on the bench. "Remember, we're going for progressive overload. If you're not lifting heavier than last week, you're not growing muscle."
Oliver nodded. "And that's how you bulked up?"
"I mean, it's part of it," said Manny. "But we're not really going for the same thing, you and I. I'm going for size. You've got more of a twink thing going on. There's only so much muscle you wanna grow as a swimmer."
"What's a twink?" Oliver asked.
Manny laughed. "Uh, you know? A twink? It's like a skinny little guy with not a lot of muscle."
Oliver frowned. "Well, thanks a lot. Why do I even ask for your help?"
"It's not a bad thing," said Manny. "A lot of people like twinks."
"They do?" Oliver asked.
Manny nodded. "Of course. I'm sure you'll kill at WVU. They'll be all over you."
OIiver smiled. It felt good to be validated by a guy as attractive as Manny. If Manny thought that he was attractive, surely the girls at West Virginia University would.
Although Oliver had been dating Ashley for over a year now, she was going to college in Maryland, and he wasn't sure if she was interested in doing the whole long-distance thing. To be honest, he wasn't even sure if HE was interested in it. He'd had little to no interest in sex after his mom died.
And Ashley had been so patient with him. She could probably have gotten some from any number of guys in school, but she stuck with Oliver through his grief. To be honest, she didn't even seem to mind the lack of intimacy.
"We're going to do a reverse pyramid today," said Manny, taking weight off the barbell for Oliver's set. "Try and go for four to six reps on this set. I'll be here if you get stuck."
Oliver laid down on the bench, his eyes gazing up at the bar in front of him. He could see Manny lumbering over him, his muscle tee barely covering his ripped body. Oliver's eyes traveled across Manny's torso. Of the tattoos Manny had gotten on his chest, Oliver was always drawn to a small tattoo of a butterfly a few inches above his belly button.
Oliver's eyes involuntarily began to drift down, following the smattering of hair leading down from his belly button to his basketball shorts.
"Anytime you're ready, bro," said Manny.
"Sorry. Let's do this," Oliver said as he lowered the weight.
What was going on with him today? He was so distracted. His body image issues were really causing his mind to go bonkers. He couldn't stop fixating on the men around him. He kept telling himself that the best way to stop obsessing was to build the kind of muscle he admired on other guys.
