long-form Hard at Work [Part 13c added - April 29, '23]

[spacevlad]

YESSSSS I'm so excited. Man, what a hot chapter! The end scene with Froy was just... whew, wow!

Super excited to see how the rest of the party goes. 

[citizenies]

Its here and its hot!! Hope something "big" happens ~ 

[Dezman]

I hope next time all that jizz doesn't go to waste and Dor gets to have a nice cum-gut

[ploder4]

I think Dor growing at least a little isn't out of the ordinary since he had griwn in the past.  Froy will probably need Dor to grow to handle his ever growing body.  I would assume should Froy accidentally hurt Dor, he'd be reluctant to even touch him.   But it is hot to see this new dominant side of Froy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

[scarletic]

Part 13b

I went back to my desk after my little “accident” with Froy in the security office. My jaw was aching from trying to give my hulking intern a piss-poor blowjob, and there was a bottle of painkillers at my desk for whenever I got a headache — half the time because of work, the other half because of Marcus.

We did manage to find something for Froy to wear in the lost-and-found; there had been a number of morbidly obese employees in the other departments who’d conveniently lost some high-quality clothes over the years: a burgundy blazer, a black vest, and white slacks meant for someone with a 40-inch waist, at least. Froy’s was still only around 30-ish. It was his quads, ass, and foot-plus-long schlong that took up the rest of the space. Most of the clothes fit Froy fine, managing to cover about 80% of his massiveness, but there were still bulges where the clothes’ original owners never had them — muscled shoulders and arms and a disproportionately oversized chest instead of potbellies and cellulite — so there were still wrinkles that teased glimpses of skin underneath, despite how tightly unbreathable the clothes were on his 7’6” frame.

Wes’ party could not come fast enough. Froy told me he would linger around the less-populated areas of the building until the venue began to crowd so no one freaked out; he loved being big, but he didn’t enjoy the attention his size entailed. He only wanted to be big for me, he said, because I was the only one in the world who shared his itch for him to get even bigger.

I hadn’t even seen Wes yet, and I was starting to wonder if he’d even come in to work.

Jeremy was working beside me, though most of his attention seemed elsewhere. The usual stuff he wore — intense polo shirts, zigzag-decorated wool cardigans, warm skintight khakis — had been replaced with a black oversized sweatshirt and matching sweatpants that pooled around his sneakers. It wasn’t work-regulated attire, and he knew that, and he chose to come in anyway. The prep boy that showed up and showed off a few days ago was nowhere to be found. All that remained were his trendy aviator glasses on his well-moisturized face.

“Out of clothes?” I asked.

He was hunched over and partially slid under his desk, so I thought nothing of it; he just resembled a lump of black fabric from where I was. “Don’t be coy. It’s Friday. Don’t you have casual days here?”

We didn’t.

“I’m just not feeling well. Don’t worry about it,” he said.

It was unusual, among other things. He was never quite so subdued. And something I didn’t notice then until it was too late— after Lisa had returned me to a normal human size and even added on a few extra inches — was that the amount of space that typically hovered between us had shrunk. He was still seated, slouched in his chair, but something about the air that followed him seemed to be breeching my own personal space, as if he were wider, or taller, or something in between.

I was too preoccupied worrying about Wes’ birthday that my brain didn’t even register that something was amiss.

In the presence of average folk, someone like Jeremy would’ve been eye-catchingly tall; for the past month, though, my life was anything but ‘average.’ The reality of my station concretized a moment later. Jeremy had left for a second to grab his sixth coffee of the day. Nose-deep in my work, I was caught off-guard by what I initially thought was a storm cloud, passing overhead; then I wondered why only my cubicle seemed unusually dim, while every other ceiling light across the floor was set to max. It wasn’t until I lifted my head up to investigate that I noticed my light was still very much on — it wasn’t that it was broken. There was a massive, looming form hovering just behind (and above) me that had blotted out the light completely: an undersized head atop ludicrous shoulders that spanned the ends of my eyes.

“Am I interrupting something?”

I blinked once, believing it was a hallucination; then I blinked again, hoping it was Froy.

But the voice was too deep, too raspy, too powerfully raw to be anything but a 32-year-old dad’s. Then I found my eyelids glued wide open. It was impossible to blink, just as it was pointless to think of looking away.

He stepped back, and somehow stretched up even closer to the foam ceiling, wider even than my peripheral panoramic view could manage. And the ceiling light had become his spotlight, casting shadows upon shadows around every swell of bulk, each curve and angle emphasized to standards of public indecency. As if a man were capable of carrying hardened breasts that protruded from a living brick wall of ten-ton mass — yet there he stood, and my mind had wandered and found its way into the valley between his engorged pecs, and caressing a bulge of manhood that weighed what felt like five-pound dumbbells. My face felt weak, as I daydreamed his quads, encased in painfully tight capris, each the size of a watermelon, pinning my shrunken head between, crowned with a pair of balls that mimicked grapefruits and a cock the size of an elephant’s trunk.

“Dory? Don’t you have something to say?” Wes asked.

I lost sense of reality in that split-second.

A memory flashed in my head, then. I’d freshly graduated with a bachelor’s, and a friend of a friend of a friend hooked me up with my first interview as an HR personnel at the most prolific multinational conglomerate in the world.

It wasn’t part of my contract then, but I knew it wouldn’t be long until I had more workplace-adjacent responsibilities than actual work.

The man interviewing me was one of the managers, someone my contact knew had a soft spot for men.

The sexism wasn’t lost on me, of course. Most of my classmates were women, most if not all of whom had significantly better grades than me. There wasn’t much a fresh graduate with not a penny to his name could do to really argue ethics, though. I needed to pay the rent somehow.  

He was still the same 5’6” man I felt he was, at least deep inside, and he only had the handful of gains he’d salvaged from his college weightlifting days. His bulk was hardly noticeable even in his form-fitting button-down.

Neither of us had any wrinkles on our foreheads yet, so we both looked younger than we really were.

And I secretly enjoyed being around someone who — strutting around in inch-tall heels, carrying his head extra high just to attempt to close the gap between our eye levels — made 5’7” me feel ‘normal.’ For the longest time, it was all I had to flaunt over him, to even out the balance in our power dynamic.

We worked in HR. It was inevitable we were going to know each other’s salaries. So, while he was easily earning over double what I did, I kept that spark of insecurity lit in the back of his mind. It was my little payback for him favouring male applicants way back when.

His closeted bisexuality was one of his best-kept secrets before he met me.

“You’re one of the few people in this office,” he’d told me, “who doesn’t make my neck hurt by looking up.”

Yeah, but still, you’re looking up, I wanted to say.

That was all but a fading figment of imagination, as I ogled at the mammoth of a man standing over me.

“Dory! Are you high?” he asked, his voice carrying a gravity that shook my bone marrow. “You know that’s against company policy, right?”

My throat had gone dry in the seconds I was mentally checked out.

The Wes I knew, the 5’6” muscle plug, had already very clearly surpassed the 6’8” height we’d measured him at just earlier that week. He’d grown some more, and — as if that weren’t bad enough — we both knew, without words, what the freakishly huge man wanted for his birthday.

“Did you… grow again?” I asked. “Oh, yeah, and happy birthday.”

Wes gleamed at that, posturing an absurdly swollen arm against his side, ‘subtly’ flexing a tricep that made my calves look like sausage rolls. I wasn’t sure his XXX-something-L pastel burgundy silk button-down could hold on much longer. Even with the slightest movement, I could hear fabric straining if not tearing.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” he said. “I was planning on waiting till my party, but Sammy annoyed the daylight out of me like a mosquito. I couldn’t take another day of him squealing, ‘let me grow you, let me grow you!’ so I shut him up with a handful of the good stuff.”

“Your hands aren’t exactly the standard for a ‘handful’ anymore, you know.”

Wes smirked. “Oh, I know.” He stepped back to let me admire the rest of him.

While I was seated, he looked to me like a genuine colossus of a man — the very definition of a heavyset mountain. As if someone had taken the oversized mannequins’ clothes at the Big and Tall and poured liquid, flesh-tone cement to overflowing, yet his body was just as much liquid as it was diamond. It seemed no natter how much weight he accumulated, he always kept a proportionate amount of tender fat to accentuate every curve and bloat his body to inhuman levels of mass — essentially turning his very presence into a black hole of raw manpower.

“How… how big are you now?” I asked, powering through my own fear of the answer.

“Oh, little, old me? My wife and I measured last night. Your superior is now 6’10”, something like 523 pounds, and — wouldn’t you know it — these bad upper arms have as many inches as I’ve got years.”

“32 inches?! That’s as big as Froy’s!”

“Oh, yeah,” Wes said. “And isn’t he, what, 7’6”, or something? Now think how big I’ll be once I’m as tall as he is. Still got eight inches to go! Then we’ll see about rounding that out to a foot. I’d love to look down on him again. I love making people feel small! It gets me so damn high off my size, Dor’.”

“Please don’t blow a hole through your pants at my desk.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m wearing three pairs of underwear today. It’s crazy how”—he forcefully cupped his protruding semi-hard bulge—“this damn bazooka just refuses to ever go soft.”

“No way. I can see every damn vein on your cock, and it’s poking out from your crotch by like four inches. You’re telling me you’re not free-balling?”

“Thanks for the compliment. I really am wearing a painful number of boxer-briefs, though. What you see is already half the usual size.”

I didn’t really know what to say to him. My own goods were already on the cusp of surrender, and it felt like the next word to leave my mouth would be my last.

“But I didn’t come here to flaunt how thick and juicy I am. I need to talk to you in my office about something,” he said. His expression and tone had taken a serious turn, which was rare, considering how laissez-faire he usually was. “Are you free right now? I won’t ask you to feed me, I promise.”

The heat I was feeling had cooled down dramatically. “Is it urgent?”

“We’re an American company, Dory. Don’t act like you’ve got anything to actually do. If you aren’t standing up by the count of three, I’ll pluck you by the nape from that seat and drag you to my office if I have to.”

“Seriously? I—”

“One…”

I didn’t let him reach two. I followed him to his office, his redwood legs reaching double my stride, driving me to a sweat as I brisk-walked my hardest to keep up.

His back from behind was a vast ocean of silk that no doubt my wingspan wouldn’t have been able to wrap around — something I’d lost the ability to do with Froy when he hit 7’6”. I was mesmerized by how the muscles rippled and ridged against the fabric. He wasn’t just wide as a two-ton truck, he was just as broad no matter the axis. Wes’ head looked downright puny on top of so much body, and the sheer difference in size between me and him was only exacerbated by the fact he literally had a height advantage of a full head and shoulders (and then a bit more) on me.

He didn’t have the same sharply angled V-taper that Froy, much less Marcus, had. Yet he couldn’t close the gap between his arms and his firm belly anyway because of his dome-like lats that created the illusion of an even more robust Adonis’ belt.

The most obvious comparison was a wrecking ball stacked on top of a vertical shipping container — and that was just his upper body. His knees were perpendicular to his shoulders solely from the amount of space his quads demanded. It was really no wonder why his junk was sticking so far out: they would’ve been juiced to a pulp between his thighs otherwise.

When we got to his office, I glanced over at Marcus’ empty desk as I always did.

I didn’t register until Wes invited me inside that Marcus’ usual clutter and trash and unsorted documents were all but gone, leaving just his bag and laptop and a few random knick-knacks.

“Lock the door behind you,” Wes said, resting against his desk, propping himself up with just his bowling ball-sized ass, causing the industrial wood to somehow creak.

“So what’s wrong?” I asked. “You’re not just horny, are you?”

Wes crossed his arms (though it did take him three attempts, simply because of how difficult it had become for him to maneuver arms the size of horse legs) across his chest and sighed.

“You know by now that the company’s going through some… extreme changes lately,” Wes said. “Unfortunately, not even Sammy could keep the HR department  safe from the other shareholders.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“The guys on top did some data analysis and pulled some numbers about our performance. I don’t like it either, trust me. With Sammy on top, they’ve taken the opportunity to propose some major budget changes since they know Sammy doesn’t have the same thinking as the former CEO.”

By then, I had a good enough idea of what he was leading up to, but I didn’t want to hear him say it. Not on his birthday.

But, he owed it to me, because it affected me, and I was one of his best friends.

“They’re laying off 30% of all employees worldwide, Dor’.”

“So… am I getting fired, then?”

Wes shook his head, and there was some relief on my end — still, I knew he wasn’t done being the bearer of bad news.

“Don’t worry. You and I… they have no intention of terminating our contracts. It’s the other guys. They planned on letting Marcus go and ending Froy’s internship after announcing the mass lay-offs at the staff meeting next week.”

“You’re fucking with me, right? They’re firing Marcus and Froy? But— why?!”

“You know Marcus better than I do, so you’ve always known the answer to that. Froy, though, I guess they just weren’t very into the idea of paid internships.”

“But Froy’s worked harder than me and Marcus combined!”

“The thing is, they don’t know that. And I’m not sure they’d care, either. Froy’s not like Marcus; he never took the credit for the work he did. Actually, I took a look at the documentation, and your cheeky boyfriend put your name instead of his on everything I know he did. That’s why the higher-ups have no clue what kind of worker he is.”

I walked up to him, unable to keep myself upright, and sat on one of his chairs. “But… how do you know about this?”

“You know how Sammy is. He loves gossip. And he hardly cares about Marcus and Froy as much as we do.”

“Have you told them?”

“Froy doesn’t know a thing. But Marcus—Sammy told him about it a few days ago.” Wes twisted around and plucked a letter from his drawer. “And he left his resignation letter here this morning before he came to see you. Happy birthday to me, right? And I know what you’re going to say, so don’t bother; I’ve been trying to convince him all week to hold on the quitting while I tried speaking on his and Froy’s behalf. But he’s already made up his mind about it.

Apparently, he’d been thinking about it for a few weeks now. He showed me how much money he makes in a week from all kinds of paid porn he was doing since he started really growing, so I guess I understood. You’d probably quit too if you could earn half your yearly pay in a week from just jacking off on camera, right?”

Right. And I knew Marcus was already earning at least 140% times my own salary, so it wasn’t really a baffling concept to wrap my head around.

“Anyway, that’s it. I just thought I should let you know in advance so you can figure out a game plan with Froy. Consider it a freebie.”

A sudden vertigo spell left me speechless and disoriented, afraid of the possibility that I’d have to say goodbye to my best friend and boyfriend in one go. Froy coming on-board was the best thing to ever happen to me in the past month — he’d made me forget just how much I detested every breath I shared in the office with the business analysts and board members. And it was those same slugs that were getting rid of him.

I could see on Wes’ face and the way he dug through my non-language that he still had more to say. But he left it at that.

“Sammy’s been stressing himself out working on a solution, but… well, you know him. Money’s all he’s got. But money can’t buy brains like yours or Froy’s. Not legally, anyway.” Wes postured to leave his office. “Lock the door on your way out,” he said, ducking under his doorframe and closing it behind him as he disappeared through the frosted glass.

I sat in his office for a few more minutes. I needed to give my head some time to cool down.

It was nearly time for the pre-party to get started when I left, but I wasn’t in the mood to do an Irish jig or whatever.

Back at my desk, Jeremy’s bag was gone, so I figured he’d left. I hoped he was doing alright; he looked exhausted among other things. He didn’t even say goodbye.

The worst part was that he was supposed to be handling the sound and tech. My train of thought still hadn’t left the station from Wes’ confession, and my curiosity got the better of me, driving me to wonder if the newest hire, Jeremy, was being kept over his younger brother. I needed more time to myself. None of us were to blame, and I had to stop pinning the fault for Froy’s dismissal on Jeremy.

I couldn’t even tell him about it — he was in such high spirits for the party, and it had taken way too much effort to even get him out of his room, much less to the office. He still had bills to pay, his mother’s hospital bills among them, so I couldn’t let things happen as they were and leave him empty-handed. So I thanked Wes for his insider information, because he gave me enough time to find another way to help Froy help himself.

Porn wasn’t in the question. He reserved himself for me and only me. The only other eyes he wanted anywhere near his naked body was a camera, one to make homemade films for us to rewatch, not sell.

It was about this time when I felt my bladder call for a break.

I headed over to the male washroom with my eyes glazed and glued to my phone and my mind lost in the clouds, searching for a well-hidden silver lining. The path to the toilet had become muscle memory to me, so I was hardly paying attention to my surroundings as I looked up stuff on the internet for legal repercussions to mass layoffs the company couldn’t bail itself out of.

As I approached the washroom, it bore mentioning that Haley & Bennett’s was a forward-thinking conglomerate — they’d installed a few new unisex washrooms, adjacent to the men’s room for anyone who needed some privacy. It was a welcome change.

Most of the folks on my floor had already gone home to freshen up for the party, so I was confident I wasn’t going to find anyone skulking around my urinal.

Still, I preferred some privacy, so I took a unisex room, anyway. People who knew me thought it was odd I never used a urinal. It was always some insipid argument about manhood.

I was pretty open about a lot of things, but I had secrets of my own, too.

What people didn’t know was I look for a glory hole in just about every men’s room I visit.

So, imagine my surprise on my first day on the job; the handicapped stall I popped into had a glory hole drilled next to the toilet, leading into one of the unisex washrooms — the same washroom I frequented, the one I only ever used, the only one I ever used, and the one I was heading to now.

Anyone who knew my secret would’ve called me a deviant or pervert. But holding my head up high and being stuck in a functional freeze for weeks on end took its toll on me; plus, with Wes’ news wearing me out, even I needed some time to myself to relax and do away with self-control and social norms. So, for a brief hiccup in time, I could feel like myself again.

The washroom I frequented didn’t have too many clients when I visited, though. There weren’t many people in the office who needed the accessible stall, so most never bothered even looking inside.

I had at most three people ever use it (all three of whom were later exposed as sex offenders, fired, and arrested). No one I valued knew about the glory hole; I didn’t have any plans to tell them, either. Not much point exposing my secret and either getting me in trouble or the hole patched up — besides, it’s not like Wes or Froy needed a secret stall to get their junk in my mouth, anyway.

It was when I wrapped up and flushed in the unisex washroom that I heard someone walk into the men’s room next door.

Their voice was muffled, so I could only decode grunts and mumbles.

I didn’t have my hopes up. But I waited anyway; curiosity made people do inexplicable things, and waiting inside a washroom for the sound of someone to take a piss was one of them.

And as if the heavens took pity on me, they led the man into the accessible stall.

There was a gasp, on the other side of the wall — I couldn’t see much through the hole because of the way it was positioned, so audio cues were all I had to go by. And then there was the sound of something being unzipped, then dragged down to their knees, a shirt being unbuttoned, a hand posturing against the wall.

The hole darkened from the other side, but I could sense the guy’s apprehension. He was about to stick their goddamn penis in a random hole in the wall at the office.

And I saw it: the beginning of a plump, bubblegum pink, mushroom cap slowly making its way through the hole. It was dry, and clean, but it jiggled with the moisture of a wet sponge. And it was mouth-wateringly thick, and I knew a fat cock head like that was going to exercise my entire jaw, so I braced myself.

The rest of it followed once one-and-a-half inches worth of penis burrowed its way through the tight hole, onto my side of reality. I couldn’t believe my eyes as I watched it. The wall between us had to be at least two inches thick, and yet inch after inch of well-groomed, beige skin was pouring out, like an erection being unfurled the same way a firehose would be — and we hadn’t even gotten to the largest part of his urethra.

On a normal man, a cock like the one I was seeing would’ve been confused for a weapon or toy. There were only three men in the world who could’ve had bigger, so I was thoroughly impressed, and devastatingly aroused.

The engorged tip of the endowment laid before me was nearly resting on the toilet tank, a good foot away from the hole. That, plus the two inches of wall, and whatever he was leaving on his end, put his dick at an obscene 14 inches. Minimum.

He flexed it, and it bounced, and my own erection felt shrunken in my underwear.

I grabbed it by the shaft, relishing the way its titanium urethra felt against my fingers of the same girth. If whoever he was had any intention of pulling his meat back through the hole, he was going to have a bad time, what with the way his bulb flared out dramatically.

My tongue welcomed the well-cleaned cock into my mouth, playing with every warm inch of flesh against my cheeks. This was a man, I thought, who’d had his cock in others’ mouths before. He’d cleaned it beforehand, and trimmed the blonde bush near the hole, and gave me free reign with his pleasure. All I had to do was picture of any of the incredible men in my life — Wes, Marcus, Froy — and my libido wasted no effort in giving this man the blowjob of a lifetime.

He was lucky I was in there; I was probably the only one in the world who’d taken larger penises, and I knew how to punish a man for having such an incredible piece of meat. He was going to edge. I was going to make him edge.

After about 20 seconds of foreplay, I swallowed the rest of his footlong down my throat. It was thick enough to suffocate me if I wasn’t careful.

It didn’t take long before his hands slammed against the wall in an almost-rhythmic manner, in time with each of my back-and-forths. He quivered in my throat, lubricating my esophagus with a deluge of flavourless pre-cum. Moans echoed through the wall. And each time he dared try and pull back, I sucked him back in — it was a brutal game of tug-of-war.

I felt him near his limit by the three-minute mark. And I was almost disappointed to reach the end so soon.

I say ‘almost,’ because I had no idea what other surprises he had in store for me.

The sound of the men’s room door creaking open gave us both pause.

Footsteps decorated with unmistakeable leather heels walked around the men’s room, humming a pop song. It was a high-pitched voice, sprinkled with a gay man’s flair, and I recognized who it was — because no one on our floor ever wore leather shoes. It was Sammy, and he’d come in to take a piss on our floor.

At the same time, the guy whose dick was in my mouth had said something, too.

“Oh, shit…!” he muttered. ”Ah, fuck, fuck, fu…” Punctuating his fear with the sound of something crystal falling onto the tiled floor.

I didn’t even realize I’d stopped breathing until the tool in my mouth took the reigns. The guy had given up on safe and slow edging and made the panicked choice to go fast and violent, bruising my throat and heating my mouth with enough friction to cause a burn.

We were both in a state of shock and panic, but nothing was more traumatizing than the reality that my Marcus had sauntered into the men’s room, discovered the glory hole, and immediately stuck his cock in it without a lick of hesitation.

And it was in my mouth. And he had no idea it was me. I don’t even think he knew I was a guy; it didn’t take a surplus of brain cells to know the men’s room connected to a unisex washroom.

The incredible vibrating cock in my mouth was reaching climax — I could tell as much, when a guy was ready to breed me — when the impossible happened.

The stall door slammed open. “What the hell?” Sammy exclaimed. “Marcus?!”

“Jesus—!”

It began to grow. The fleshy girth of steel meat was noticeably expanding in my mouth, slithering further down my throat, even as it ceased its pumping. My eyes watered as it started to push me back against the toilet, blocking my airway completely.

“Holy fuck…! I’m fucking getting bigger!” Marcus cheered.

“Is that— is that a glory hole?!” Sammy yelled. “Stop! You can’t be growing in here!”

“Don’t tell me what I—ungh—can and can’t do, toots. I’ll grow bigger if I wanna, and you can’t stop a growing boy from getting—ah—what he wants!”

I struggled to unplug the damn fattening cock in my throat out, and clearly, so did Marcus, but any time either of us pulled away, it only seemed to dig itself even deeper, stretching my esophagus to its limits. If he kept swelling at the rate he did, he was going to burst through my neck within the next minute.

It wasn’t just me going through hell, either. I powered through the pain in my eyes to see that Marcus’ girth had filled up the glory hole completely. The wall was already constricting his cock of blood flow, and it was making the rest of his penis balloon and turn a deep pink.

I then realized why he’d stopped pumping my mouth with his cock — he couldn’t move it anymore.

“Your muscles look like they’re going to explode!” Sammy cried. “Are you alright? Are you stuck?!”

“Fuck yeah, I’m stuck! My damn baby-maker’s gone and grown too big for this damn baby hole. Guess I was—ouch, fuck! Too much glory, not enough hole!”

“How are you already taller than me?” Sammy continued. “You weren’t supposed to get this big again!”

“Yeah, well, fuck you, blondie. I grow as much as I fucking want! Look, I’m already fucking taller than your 6’3”, and I probably weigh three of your toothpick ass. I’ve got at least ten inches on the other side and five more here from just getting taller! Aren’t you s’posed to be a slut for us big guys?” Marcus snickered. “When I get this dick out, maybe you could ask Wes which of us has the better cock!”

Then I saw it.

I was worried, with how much Marcus was growing, that he was going to need the wall taken down to escape the glory hole bear trap — but I forgot this wasn’t an ordinary cock.

Cracks began to form on the plaster as Marcus flexed his manhood to absurd levels, threatening to kill me if he didn’t pull out in the next few seconds. Bits of white paint and wood were crumbling on the ground in front of me, doubling the glory hole’s radius, enough for him to wriggle his oversized rebar out of my neck.

Now free from its constriction, Marcus unleashed a torrential downpour of hot wax inside me. I couldn’t have expected it. A nonstop baptism of near-solid spunk flooded my mouth, inundating my lungs and stomach like a waterfall, enough to satisfy my caloric intake for a week. I wanted to puke at the realization. But Marcus’ cum triggered a high in my brain like a flavourless drug that rewarded me and made me crave it.

It was so sudden; I couldn’t believe what had happened. Marcus had become so strong, so unnaturally big, behind the wall that he could’ve blown an even bigger glory hole with the strength of just his penis.

“You’re… you’re— what the fuck; you’re a freak!” Sammy yelled. “You just broke the wall!”

The python retreated through the litre-bottle-sized hole, a stream of cum still pouring out onto the tiles, and I heard a deep rumbling from the other side. Though, I couldn’t see anything aside from a living wall of Marcus’ tanned Caucasian hide.

“I’m gonna break more than just this wall if you don’t let me finish getting off in here, man. I just had the best blowjob ever! Sheesh!”

“How much do you masturbate at work?” Sammy asked.

“Enough to get paid for it!”

Then I remembered, in my cum-induced stupor — not for much longer.

[arpeejay]

Excellent! Many thanks!

[citizenies]

Hot as always ~~ thanks for continuing

Wonder when froy needs to use his powers again 

[spacevlad]

Mmmph, so so good, long-awaited! I love that you're making me wait even more for Wes to get his birthday present, but LOVED the descriptions of him being even bigger. Loved the unexpected surprise of Marcus, I wonder if he'll finally figure out it's the necklace that was holding him back?

[spacevlad]

Also, like, I know this isn't likely to happen and isn't how he grows, but there's a big part of me that wants Wes to get out that massive, uncontrollable cock and pound Dory with it. Maybe after he slurps another load out of Dory and is getting his growth spurt, swelling bigger inside of the smaller man.

[Lutz]

Damn it just gets better and better