The Measure of Love

"That man is an affront to human evolution!" Stewie cried in his traditional British lilt in Lois's arms as she got ready to take him with her on some errands.

"Take that back!" Chris roared.

"Stop it, both of you," Lois said. Managing Peter's immaturity and Stewie's habits could get exhausting fast. "Your father has his...shortcomings, but he's a loving man."

"Mom, Dad promised to take me to Cheesy Charlie's today, but he's still sleeping," Chris complained.

"Sometimes, he just needs a...firm reminder," Lois replied with a patience fine-tuned by many years of managing an immature husband with a bravado that would make most college boys blush. "See you later, sweetheart. Let me know how Cheesy Charlie's went."

With that, she left, closing the door behind her, and the house fell into a deep silence. Chris was not very good with firm reminders, but he quietly walked into Peter's bedroom and placed his hand on his father's broad shoulder.

"Lindsay, wait!" Peter cried when he woke up. "Don't go!" Suddenly, the obese man realized he was no longer sharing a moment of intimacy with Lindsay Lohan, but was instead in his own bed, with his chubby son looking intently at him. He had no intention of telling Chris, but he was still occasionally haunted by a small problem, so to speak.

"Dad, what's wrong?" Chris asked. "And who's Lindsay?"

"It's nothing, Chris," Peter answered, though like most of his lies, it was quite hollow. "Just a little dream. That's all."

"Dad," Chris said. "Did you remember Cheesy Charlie's?"

"Yes," Peter replied. "But it takes my tired gut a while to wake up. Come on. Climb in and just relax for a moment."

"Okay," Chris responded. "But I wanted to show you this drawing I made first." He held up a picture he drew of himself with Peter outside on a sunny day. Peter was too stupid to admire the drawing's careful attention to detail and the creative elements in the background and how he portrayed the two of them, but it warmed his heart nonetheless. Chris walked over to Lois's considerably less depressed side of the bed, and he removed his clothes in an amusing gesture of conformity. At first, the size of the boy's dick overwhelmed Peter—it was as if Chris exchanged penises with someone larger than Peter himself—but Chris spoke before the emotion could take hold. "I don't know who Lindsay is, but you're such a beautiful person."

It wasn't true—in fact, Peter was an immature, gluttonous slob—but the man's surprising soft side and Chris's naïveté helped sell the illusion. Chris was very unintelligent, but more mature than Peter, and his kindness often felt like a warm blanket. He climbed into the bed, which now contained a clash of opposing dick sizes. For a while, the two hardly spoke, and a bubble of intimacy began to take form around the bed. Peter and Chris followed a strange logic that was alien to the average mind, and over the next half hour, distinctions like "father" and "son" and "male" and "female" started to feel less material and more like distant suggestions.

"Dad," Chris opened. "Do you think girls would like my...freakishly large penis?" he continued, remembering one of Peter's previous bouts of immaturity. Peter's breath hitched—in his juvenile mind, being insecure about a huge dick should not have been possible. "What're you talking about?" the fat man replied. "Your dick isn't a curse! It's a gift, like when King Midas got his diamonds!" In that moment, Peter had one of his very few epiphanies—Chris's dick was not something to be feared, but a part of the loving, insecure son who was mere inches away. "You've won the lottery of cock! Look at me! I've got nothing!" He opened the blanket as he spoke, showing Chris the dick he detested like a hideous pimple, even though it helped bring 3 children into the world.

Chris couldn't look away—there was something about Peter's softness and the intimate vulnerability of his small cock that was magnetic. "Dad," he replied. "You're a very beautiful person, and if Lindsay doesn't realize that, she's dumb. Mom would never choose anyone else over you." Lois had chided Peter about his childish behavior regarding his penis size plenty of times, but hearing it from Chris was surprising, to say the least.

"Chris, you're a wonderful, handsome son, with a super-manly cock," Peter said. "A real woman oughta blow the ever-loving cojones offa ya!" At that moment, the misguided Peter Griffin logic set in. "C'mere, son! I'm gonna show you what a real woman would do!"

Before Chris could even process his words, he pulled the boy into a passionate kiss. The sensation of Peter's soft lips was electric and intoxicating, and any remaining insecurity Chris had simply dissolved. Before long, father and son found themselves exploring the contours of each other's soft bodies, enjoying the sensual touch of skin against skin, Peter finding that the mold of the "real woman" fit like a glove as their breathing intensified. Chris's hands stopped just above Peter's waistline, and his fingers scooped out a good gob of navel lint.

The boy's chubby finger traced the perimeter of Peter's navel, which possessed a geometry he found fascinating. It then slowly spiraled further in, ending at the deepest point, and he wiggled it around, taking in the texture of the knot inside. He was entranced by the contact, but it did not sate his curiosity, and he leaned closer, to the point where Peter could feel his breath on him. He stuck his tongue inside, spiraling downward until he was overpowered by the taste of Peter's flesh and navel salt, the tip of the organ massaging his belly as Chris moaned in delight.

After Chris tasted Peter's navel, his loving touch drifted downward. "What an adorable little penis," he said in a low voice as he stroked it with his finger, making it twitch in response to the soft touch of Chris's fatty finger. He continued to stroke it, then as he wrapped his hand around it, it dwarfed Peter's Irish man meat. As he stimulated Peter, the gentle, but firm touch proved overwhelming, and the man could feel his blood rushing as his breathing intensified. Chris continued, admiring his father's small dick as if it were a finely curated piece of art.

Chris then started teasing Peter's dick with his tongue, gently massaging it, then he started to suck. The sensation of Chris's lips and tongue pressing on Peter's cock excited the obese man, who was surprised by how similar it felt to making love to Lois. Suddenly, Chris felt a gentle touch against his own large dick, Peter's hand having been magnetically attracted to the presence of his loving son. In spite of the man's large hand, Chris had such a big cock that it wrapped around it naturally, exciting the boy as he blew Peter. The increase in Chris's excitement from Peter's handjob heightened his vigor, and Peter's dick was aching and really hard. "I'm gonna blow!" the man cried, and in spite of his dick size, he filled his son's mouth with sweet love juice, which the boy swallowed.

"Wow," Chris said. "Dad, you're so delicious."

"My God, Chris," Peter said, continuing to rub the boy's big cock. "I feel like such an idiot for hating your cock! It's so manly, and beautiful!" He squeezed the crown of Chris's dick, admiring its softness and elasticity, then he teased the hole with his tongue. "This is a real man's cock," he whispered. "I'm gonna show you how a real woman should make you feel." Peter licked Chris's thick dick with his tongue, then he started wrapping his mouth around it. Chris's vision blurred from the excitement as his heart raced—Peter had really gotten into his "real woman" act. He could feel his cock powerfully throbbing in his dad's mouth as Peter's tongue warmly caressed it.

"Dad, I'm about to explode!" Chris said before unleashing a huge gob of cum in Peter's mouth, which he swallowed. The two of them then lay back down on the bed, and Chris embraced Peter vigorously. "Dad, you're the best real woman ever," he whispered.

"See?" Peter replied, the two of them still believing in the effectiveness of the man's misguided, but nevertheless thrilling "demonstration." "A man with your dick deserves nothing less. Tell you what, Chris! I won't make you buy your own tickets and concessions this time! Let's get going!"

"All right, Dad!" Chris yelled excitedly as he moved to put his clothes back on.