The experiment?

Jacob grinned, already shoving his sweatpants down.

“Alright, Dad. For science. Proper cock measurement. You wanted data, right? So measure.”

Twelve long, cut inches swung free and thickened fast. Not especially thick, but the length made it look almost comical hanging against Jacob’s soft, overweight stomach and pale thighs.

Steve followed immediately, jeans hitting the floor. Eleven thick, uncut inches of heavy meat dropped out, foreskin still half-covering the head, the shaft wider than a coke can. His athletic body only made the whole package look more unfair—flat stomach, defined hips, the kind of frame that made the thick cock hanging off it look even more obscene.

David’s new eyes flicked over both of them and went wide.

He had seen Jacob shirtless a thousand times. Soft. Doughy. Nothing impressive. Steve he had only ever seen in passing—suddenly the contrast was brutal. One son built like he lived on pizza rolls, one friend built like he actually used a gym, and both of them packing more than David had ever carried in his life.

He reached out anyway, trying to stay clinical.

“Visual estimation first,” he muttered. Soft fingers wrapped around Jacob’s long cock, spanning it, then moved to Steve’s thicker one. His palm couldn’t close around either. “Hand-span puts Jacob well past… and Steve’s girth is—”

The Alexa overlay kicked in without permission, calm and precise.

“Approximate lengths: subject Jacob, twelve point one inches erect. Subject Steve, eleven point three inches erect with significantly above-average circumference.”

David’s mouth snapped shut. His own voice fought back. “I did not need the exact figures.”

But he still had both cocks in his hands. His thumbs rubbed over the heads in tiny, traitorous strokes. He had never seen anything bigger than his own nine inches. Never held anything that made his new fingers look so small. And never once imagined his own soft, game-obsessed son and that athletic friend would be the ones making him feel suddenly, humiliatingly outmatched.

A warm trickle slid down the inside of one bare thigh.

David froze.

He could feel it—the borrowed pussy between his legs already getting slick, lips starting to swell and part. The thin dress clung damp against him.

Steve laughed under his breath. “You’re dripping, Mr. Mason.”

“I am not,” David said, voice cracking even as another bead of wetness slipped free. He kept stroking them anyway, eyes locked on the long one against Jacob’s soft belly and the thick one against Steve’s hard abs like he couldn’t look away. “Any lubrication is simply the host body’s default template. It has nothing to do with the fact that both of you are… statistically excessive.”

Jacob’s cock flexed in his grip. “Pretty hard stare for pure research, Dad.”

David’s new hips gave a tiny, involuntary roll. He still didn’t let go.

“Data collection,” he insisted weakly. “That is all.”

Another slow drip ran down his thigh. He pretended not to notice.