m/m The Repository - (Complete Story, 10/15/21)

[TQuintA]

Part 3 – The West California Wild Man

Chapter 9

            We had cleaned and fully dressed by the time Alphonse came back.

            “Even just those two inches off was a relief,” Alphonse said.  “Look at this bulge,” he pointed to his still very prominent, very obvious bulge.  Then he put his hands over it.  He mostly covered it.  “I can hide this.  And if I dress for it, strap it down with the right underthings, I won’t even have to hide it.  That walk was liberating.  I didn’t feel like anyone was staring at me, and the few times people looked, I could just move my hands, and I wasn’t a freak anymore.”

            “Glad to hear it, Zane,” Puck said.  “That’s what we were going for.”

            “Are we going to do this for real?” Alphonse asked.

            “Why wouldn’t we?” I responded.

            “If you borrow all of my extra cock, which is what you did suggest, you’re borrowing six inches.  That’s a cock’s worth of cock.  Can you handle that much meat, Shakespeare?”

            “It’s only for a few days,” I reminded him, feigning munificence.  Then, I added, “You said it yourself.  At first, it’s hot.”

            “But with six extra inches, you’ll have… what?  A foot of cock?”

            “What guy hasn’t fantasized about having a twelve inch cock?”  The words left my mouth before I even finished thinking them.

            “Atta boy, Muscles,” Puck said, patting me on the back.

            As soon as I realized what I was actually agreeing to, my more practical side kicked in.  “How long do you think you’ll need to set everything up?”

            “If everything goes exactly as I think it will, three or four days.  A week at most if things go wrong.”

            “Let’s call it a week then,” Puck said.  “Seven days from now, even if you haven’t set everything up, Muscles returns your deposit.”

            “That’s a bargain I can live with,” Alphonse said.

            “A week with a footlong cock.”  I shook my head in disbelief.  Even with my innate abilities, I never foresaw this.

            “Are you ready?” Alphonse asked.

            I nodded.

            “You sure you want to keep your pants on?  You wanted them off last time.”

            “I’m very sure,” I said.  I decided, this time, to see what it was like to grow bigger while still in my jeans.

            “You can borrow four inches of cock.”

            The bulge in Alphonse’s pants diminished, dwindled, and shrank until it was a reasonable bulge.  A respectable bulge.  A bulge to be proud of, not to hide.

            At the same time, I could feel my underwear starting to get tighter.  My cock unreeled, swelling thicker, longer, more present.  I could feel my jeans getting snug, too, pulling the fabric tighter across my crotch, and across my ass.  The cloth was growing more and more restrictive. 

            I leaned over my pecs to take a look. 

            My crotch bulge was obvious.  I’d never really had a crotch bulge, and now I did, and it was growing.  Steadily, it was increasing, until I had a giant log in my pants.  My pants did nothing to disguise that I had a giant cock now.  The weight of it was intoxicating.  My pants felt full in a way they never had, so much so that the zipper, usually covered by the flap of fabric, was forced to be apparent.  When I flexed my abs or my crotch muscles, I could feel the resistance of my cock fighting back, the weight pulling back down.

            “Holy shit,” Puck said.  “That is a serious bulge.”

            I rubbed my hand across it, feeling how my cock made a noticeable, firm bulge under my hand, and how I could feel the thickness of my shaft through the fabric, and how my cock could feel my hand—a sort of double stimulation.

            “That’ll make you feel like a man,” I said.

            Alphonse smiled for a second, looking freed, but then his face turned to one of concern.  “My bulge still feels too big.”

            Puck pointed to my cock.  “It’s clearly all there.”

            “You said this might not work.  Maybe there’s a limit to how much cock you can borrow?”  Alphonse was panicking a little as he pulled his pants down.  His underwear did still look quite full, bigger than what I remembered from college.  But I couldn’t fully explain it until Alphonse took off his underwear too.

            Staring back at us was his cock—as I remembered it in college.  His balls, though, there were still swollen and overly huge.

            “Those are so freakish still,” Alphonse said.  A little disappointed.  Then, as if to not sound ungrateful, he added.  “I can make this work.”

            “You know,” I interjected, “since there’s extra in there too, it stands to reason I could borrow that as well.”  I shrugged with my left shoulder, my right hand still feeling my bulge, not ready to let go yet.  In that moment, I didn’t know if I was being generous or greedy.

            “Yes, please, thank you,” Alphonse said.  “You can borrow all of my extra ball size.”  That tumbled awkwardly out of his mouth, so he added, “Is that how I should word it?”  As soon as he asked it, though, his testicles began receding in size, shrinking back into their former normal size, the way I remembered them.

            I moved my hand so I could get a look at what was happening, and then I felt it.  My already tight crotch was getting packed even tighter.  My dick was being pushed further forward.  The bulge in front grew rounder, more pronounced, and wider in places.  The zipper at the front of my pants began threatening to rip.  It may have been my imagination, but I could even swear I heard the sound of metal stretching and stressing.  And the heaviness increased so much more, practically leaden and portentous.  It felt like there was a free weight strapped to my crotch.

            My bulge was obscenely self-evident and insistent, a source of gravity on my already impressive body. 

            On the inside, I could feel an even more fundamental change.  An eddy, a roiling, a maelstrom of testosterone was being released from my newly enlarged balls.  I could feel the hormones swirling inside me, waking up my body in a way I hadn’t felt since puberty.  This week was going to be a roller coaster.

            “Thank you!” Alphonse said, waking me from my reverie.  He came over and hugged me in gratitude, but between his half-nakedness, my massive muscles, and my new bulge, it was more of a half-hug that was over before it fully got underway.

            “Another perk of this deposit,” Puck said, standing up and walking behind me, “your ass looks impeccable in these pants.”  He pulled out his phone and snapped a bunch of pictures.  He held his phone in front of me, and I could see just how massive I was from the back.  My shoulders were ridiculously wider than my waist, and then my ass flared out. The jeans were now skin-tight, lifting and separating the cheeks, making my ass look like that of an overdeveloped underwear model. 

            “Definitely another perk, I said,” rubbing my ass.  It even felt better to the touch while t was tightly cocooned in my jeans.

            While Puck and I were admiring my ass, Alphonse had put his pants back on.  Maybe if he got an erection, it would be easy to see his bulge, but he just looked like a normal guy now.  Maybe a normal, hung guy, but I knew what was underneath his pants, so I might have been projecting.  He beamed brightly, and said, “One week.  One week to apply for financial aid from the college, see my family and ask them for whatever help they can give me, and to break up with my soon-to-be-ex.  For good this time.  It’s a to-do list, but a doable to-do list.  Thank you.”  And he bolted out of the door gleefully.

            “What are we going to do with this week?” I said, bouncing on my toes to make my cock bulge shake up and down.

            “I have so many ideas,” Puck said impishly.

            Anticipating a week full of crazy sex stunts, I raced into the bedroom to rip off my clothes and get ready to play with my 12-inch cock.

            Puck followed me into the bedroom, but instead of getting undressed, he leaned against the door jamb, stretching one arm up to the top of the door and one leg out to the side.  “You think we’re just going to spend the entire week fucking, don’t you, Muscles?”

            “Not the whole week, but the vast majority.”  I nodded.  I was quite anxious to whip my dick out and look at it.

            “I just blew you and then fucked you.  I’m not a machine,” Puck teased.  “I need some time to recover.  Besides, I want you to earn it.”

            “Earn it?” I said, my voice quavering.  I reached down and grabbed my massive bulge.  “I have all this extra cock.  On Alphonse, it may have been surgical implants or whatnot, but on me, it’s actual cock and balls.  This is living flesh.”

            “And?”

            “And I’m swimming in hormones here.”  I walked over to him plaintively, my bulge swinging back and forth as I did.  “I orgasmed four inches ago while my gonads were still their normal size.  I need some release.”

            “Good,” Puck said.  He kissed me on the tip of my nose.  “I want you to percolate a little.  I’m going to sleep at my apartment tonight.  I’ll switch my shift with somebody or cash in a favor so I’ll have tomorrow night off.  We’re going on a date.  And I mean a proper date.  We’re going out.  Then, once I’ve worked you into a sexual frenzy, we’ll come back here, and then I’ll let you fuck me with that big new toy.”

            “You’re going to make me wait a whole day?”

            “Yes. Yes I am.”  He walked to the front door, swaying his hips to show off his ass, taunting me.  When he got to the door, he spun around and added, “Oh, and if you masturbate, I’ll know.  I want you at a simmering boil when we go out tomorrow.”  With that, he departed.

            Well, fuck.

[TQuintA]

Part 3 – The West California Wild Card

Chapter 10

            Alone with my newly enlarged equipment, I walked to my bathroom to check myself out in the mirror.  I turned on the lights in the bathroom, and the reflection that greeted me was extraordinary.  I was still getting used to seeing a nearly 270-pound muscular, bearded titan staring at me in the mirror, and now that titan had an obscene bulge pushing out his jeans.  I turned to the side, and the bulge was visible in profile.  I turned back to face frontwards, and the bulge was visible head on.  It looked like I’d shoved a shot put down my pants.

            I unzipped my jeans, and it was like the zipper sighed in relief.  My cock and balls pushed out, now with more room to explore.  The absolute weight of my genitals was weighing down my underwear, pulling down the waist far enough that my entire bush and the base of my shaft were clearly visible.

            I wrestled my jeans off of me, and peeled my shirt off my top, and for a moment, I just stood there only in my underwear.  My thigh muscles were so developed that they pushed my meat out further, even more obscenely.  And my waist was so comparatively small compared to my thighs and chest that my cock and balls looked still even more obscenely large.

            Daringly, I lowered my briefs, and my genitals spilled out, heavily and fully.  I looked up into the mirror.  This giant, furry man had a giant cock and giant balls.  All of me was swollen and large and beyond propriety and common sense.  It was enthralling.  So much so, that my cock grew stiffer and harder, elongating into an erection.  I watched my cock grow steadily longer, slowly pulling itself up and out, so heavy that it struggled against gravity, but so powerful that it defied its pull.  When I was fully erect, my cock was so rigid and steely that it stuck straight out, maybe even pointing up slightly.  Twelve inches of cock, erect, pulling out of my crotch, stretching up and out.  I looked like the god of sex come to bless lesser mortals with my muscle and seed.

            I wrapped my right hand around my cock.  Or, at least, I tried to, but it was far too thick for me to reach around with one hand, and my one masculine, muscular hand was nowhere near enough to cover its length.  I wrapped my left hand around it.  Together, they could encircle my cock, but even together, they could not encompass its length.

            My cock was invitingly warm, impossibly hard, and throbbing with my heartbeat.  All I wanted to do was jack off.  My hands begged me to caress the lethal weapon they held.  The flood of testosterone egged me on, enticing me to stimulate my sexual desires.  My cock demanded attention, insisting I see to its needs right that second.

            But Puck had told me not to.  To boil over and reach a fever pitch.

            Using every last scrap of will power I had, I let go of my cock and turned off the bathroom light.  If I couldn’t see it, it couldn’t tempt me as strongly.

            I opened the bathroom door, and it collided with my cock.  My cock stuck out so far in front of me that I had to open the door carefully so as to not hit my erect cock.  The impact was like a teasing spank, but the reality that my cock was a walking hazard was even more tantalizing.

            I knew I wasn’t going to fall asleep with a cock this stiff, so I decided to do some work.  Before Puck had smashed a plate and Alphonse/Zane came over to visit, I had planned to do some writing, so I went over to my writing desk to work on a chapter.

            When I sat down, my cock bumped into my desk.  My desk pushed up the head of my cock.  I had to scoot my chair back and tuck my cock under the desk, then pull back in.  But then my cock head was pressed on the underside of the desk, which was uncomfortable and distracting.  So, I pulled my chair back out, made sure my cock was on top of the desk this time, and pulled my chair back in.  Effectively, my desk strapped my cock to my abs.

            With my engorged muscles, typing had become a challenge, and it was even more of a challenge with an ever-present cock just sitting there, just under my jutting pecs, tracing its sensitive surface across my rock-hard abs, declaring that it wasn’t going to go away until I took care of it.  And it was so large, and thick, and beautiful.  It would’ve been an ever-present distraction even if it wasn’t attached to me.

            Writing went slowly, but I’ve written through hangovers and heartache, so I knew I could force myself into the groove.  If I got into the rhythm of writing, I could get distracted from my cock, and it would deflate, and then I could go to bed.  Agonizingly, I wrote half a page, and I was still persistently erect, my cock still pointing out at the computer.  I looked at the clock in the lower left-hand of the computer screen, and I saw that 30 minutes had passed.  I’d been erect—a footlong erect—for half an hour, and I’d barely done any writing.

            This wasn’t going to work, so I went back to the bathroom, thankful the door opened in so I wouldn’t collide with it again.  I started the shower—the coldest water I could stand.  I got into the shower and shivered as I was pelted by the icy stream.

            At first, it accomplished nothing because the temperature caused my balls to draw up closer to my body, which felt intensely erotic at this size.  Thankfully, though, it eventually accomplished its desired function, and my cock deflated down to a chub.

            Thinking this was enough to go back to my desk and write, I got out of the shower and threw on a pair of white briefs that were convenient.

            Then I saw me in the reflection again.

            I was still the heaving mass of muscle, but now my forest of chest hair was wetted down, thicker and darker, matted to my chest by the shower water.  And because I put on the briefs before I dried myself, the water dripping from my cock and balls had turned the white fabric see-through, and I could see my pubic hair, semi-erect cock, and balls through the translucent fabric that clung to my every curve and crevice.

            My cock was instantly at full mast again, popping over the waistband of the briefs.

            Cursing the exercise in futility, I went back to my laptop and looked up the most un-erotic images I could find.  Anything and everything to kill the boner.  Much to my delight, it worked after 15 minutes of self-torture.  It probably would’ve worked faster, but the fact that it didn’t work immediately—that my erection could withstand such an assault—was somehow a turn on, so it took the full 15.

            Once I was flaccid, I stripped naked and went to bed.  After all the excitement of the day, I was worried I’d be too wired to fall asleep, but I crashed almost immediately.

            I awoke the next morning to see the biggest tent I’d ever pitched in my life.  It looked like I was bending my knee or sticking up my leg, not like I had an erection.  I went to the bathroom and somehow wrangled my firehose of a cock to point at the toilet to relieve my morning bladder.

            Once that was accomplished, I felt a lot better in the light of the new day.  I figured that last night was so difficult largely because Puck left me in the lurch and I couldn’t just masturbate.  Now that I was in the sober light of day and had a schedule I could adhere to, it would be much easier.

            My morning routine seemed to support that.  Breakfast was easy.  Meditation (yes, I was still doing that) was easy.  Then I put on my gym clothes, and things got a little bit challenging. 

            I knew I’d have to wear a jock strap or my junk would bounce around chaotically during my workout—basic physics.  However, the jock strap I had wasn’t big enough to cage this beast.  I was able to find a tight pair of leggings that were a bit too small for my jacked, meaty frame, and those held my cock in place, but I bulged thickly and deliciously, the tights drawing the attention to my package.

            While I was contained, it would have been too much of a risk to leave my condo in that, so I wore a loose pair of sweatpants over the leggings.  I tied the sweatpants at my waist, and the loose fabric draped over my bulge like a drop cloth over furniture, but it left me with shapeless suggestions rather than accentuating my newly grown monstrosity.  As decent as I could manage, I then went down to the gym in the basement of the condo complex.

            Working out was a mixed bag.  When I was in the workout, feeling my muscles flex and burn, it was enough of a distraction that I didn’t think about my giant cock.  However, when my muscles bulged and pumped larger from the strenuous activity, my cock wanted to come back out to play.  Even through the leggings and the sweatpants, by the time I left, the bulge in my pants was obviously and noticeably an enormously erect cock.  I was thankful there were no women or children in the gym.  I would’ve been arrested for indecent exposure.

            I took a quick shower after lunch, terrified of waking the beast further.  I made a quick, but filling, lunch, and then I tried to write again.

            Thankfully, this time writing was a distraction, and I was able to get enough done to kill all the time between lunch and my date with Puck.

            Getting dressed for this date, though, was also a unique challenge.  He once again hadn’t said where we were going, so I didn’t know if I should dress fancy or casually, and everything I put on seemed to flash a neon sign at my crotch bulge.

            Since there was no correct solution, I went for the outfit I wanted to wear.  I put on a tight, long-sleeved navy blue shirt that showed just how thick my pecs and biceps were while also showing how slim and defined my waist was.  All of my abs poked through.  Since Puck had said my ass looked great in jeans, I put on my most flattering pair of jeans—a pair that already hugged the curves of my thighs and ass.  It was a struggle to shove my cock in as my ass was already taking up prime real estate, but I got them on.  It practically took Vaseline and a shoehorn, but I got everything inside.

            I finished grooming myself for the date, trimming my beard and the like, and when Puck showed up, he appreciatively squeezed my bulge through the jeans.  I visibly shook from the attention and such blatant stimulation, and he said, “Just checking.  You didn’t masturbate.  Bravo, Muscles.  Bravo.”

            “Want to come in for a drink?” I asked, trying to restore my calm and control.

            “Nah.  We’re already a little late.”  Puck’s outfit gave me absolutely no clue where we were going.  A tight white turtleneck, a giant pendant up top; tight purple corduroys and platforms down below.

            When he parked at an apartment complex, I was triply confused.

            “Where are we going?” I asked.

            “You haven’t met any of my friends from my ballet days,” he said.  “I want to show you off.  They don’t believe me.”

            I pointed down at my obvious, obvious bulge.  “You want me to meet your friends with my cock this huge?”

            “Yes,” he said as if it was obvious.  “They don’t believe me about you or why I call you Muscles.  Most of them will be distracted by your physique, and those that aren’t, well, you’ll give them an eyeful.”

            “I don’t like this plan,” I said.  I’d asked to meet Puck’s friends before, and he waited until I was a pornographic extreme of myself before he obliged.

            “You don’t have to strip naked or anything.  Most of these people you’ll never meet again.  And if you do meet them again, tell them you stuffed your crotch on a dare from me.  They’ll believe that.”  He patted my cheek, both affectionately and a touch condescendingly, and we were out the door.

            The party was strange for me because the only person I knew was Puck.  And Puck was a different person around them.  For one, everyone called him Evie and looked at me askance when I called him Puck.  But more than that, he was more outgoing and flamboyant.  I was used to Puck making large hand gestures, drawing a lot of attention to himself—that’s your standard-issue Puck.  But this party was turning that behavior up to an 11.  Also, just as he said he would, he did a lot of showing me off.  He had me flex, or lift something heavy, or bounce my pecs every couple of seconds.  Everyone treated me more like part of Puck’s outfit—something to look at and talk about, rather than talk with.

            They were all so happy to see him that he got pulled in a million different directions as people asked him where he was dancing and what he’d been doing since he’d quit, etc. 

            And so many photos.  People kept taking pictures and short videos of every last detail of the party.  Thankfully, people didn’t want pictures of me, but even the drapes ended up in at least a dozen pictures.  I followed Puck around and listened politely.  Most of the time, the talk was about the internal politics and squabbling of the L.A. Ballet.  When it wasn’t, it was about injuries, diets, or shoes.  The conversation would turn to me regularly, but I wasn’t really included in it.  People asked Puck who I was and how I’d gotten so big.  A number of people asked Puck to feel my arm or chest.  One woman asked him if I could lift her, so I obliged (one-handedly).  Those that knew Puck was now a stripper asked if I was the man who’d seduced him into becoming a stripper.  One person even pointed at my obvious bulge and said (to Puck) that I obviously was a stripper, and strongly suggested my cock and muscles were the only reason he was with me.  Their pointing was so close to my crotch that I asked them if they wanted a grope, hoping to scare them away.  Mercifully, it worked.

            No one asked me what I did for a living or how Puck and I met.  I was Puck’s pet at best, his accessory at worst.  I suspected this was Puck’s intention: to turn me into a sexual object.  It wasn’t doing a thing for me, but I could see that glint in his eye the whole night.  My sexual excess increased his status.  He was having such a good time that I let him have it.

            A good chunk of the party was people taking turns showing off some new dance or another, so I got to just sit and watch.  Puck, of course, sat on my lap.  He wriggled into me to get comfortable, whispering to me, “That giant bulge makes this seat even better,” while I was doing my best not to get erect.  If I got an erection at this party, it was over—I would climax right then and there.

            When it was Puck’s turn to dance, he grabbed the hand of the woman I’d lifted and they did a beautiful little snippet of a ballet I’d never heard of.  I thought it was great, so I gave a standing ovation when it was over.  Puck, however, said he felt rusty and wooden—that he’d likely embarrassed himself.

            The host of the party then looked at me and said it was my turn to dance.  I don’t know anything formal, so I had them put on some random R & B song, grabbed Puck, and the two of us danced like we were at a night club and not a ballet.  With him there, no one noticed that I had a semi.

            Soon after that, it was time for us to go home and for me to finally fuck my boyfriend with my footlong cock.

            I honestly don’t know how I showed the restraint it took to walk back to the car, drive home, walk up the stairs to my condo, go into my condo, close the door, take off our clothes, and get into bed.  To me, it felt like we went from telling the host goodbye to being naked in my bed.

            The first few minutes we were in bed, Puck just stared at my cock in awe.  He hadn’t seen it naked and fully hard yet, so he looked at it from every angle as it stuck straight out from my body.  He got close up and admired it from a few feet away; from above and below, from both sides.  His own cock had reached its full 7.5-inch length and was even twitching in excitement and anticipation.

            I pulled out my favorite lube because I knew this was going to take a lot.  I slathered myself in it generously, and Puck presented himself for me to penetrate.  I lined myself up with his asshole and pressed against it.

            I was too big.

            My cock head was too thick to fit into his ass.  I was just too immense to fuck my boyfriend.

            That thought was actually a turn-on, which made my cock even harder, exacerbating the situation.

            Trying to remedy our predicament, I began slowly opening him up.  One finger, two, three.  Puck loved the attention, moaning in pleasure the whole time.  By the time I had four fingers in a good fifteen minutes later, I figured he had to be opened up enough, so I reapplied the lube to my cock and got back into fucking position.

            I slipped my head into his ass, and he let out a gasp.  I gasped too.  I had never felt anything so tight around my cock.  I just barely fit.  It was like putting on a shirt that was two sizes too small, but it was my cock, so it was more alive with nerve endings.  I eased back and forth, trying to work some sort of rhythm, and it started to work.

            I was able to push in a little more.  Then a little more.  When I had the first three inches of my cock in his ass, he shrieked suddenly.

            “Holy fuck!” he shouted amongst some unintelligible syllables.

            When he calmed down, I pushed a little bit more in.  Then a little bit more.

            When I had half of my cock in, things were getting even tighter.

            I wasn’t going to get the whole thing in.  It was never going to happen.  The friction was beyond anything I’d ever felt before, and it almost felt like his ass was choking my cock.

            “Maybe we were over-ambitious,” he said.  “I’ve never taken anything more than eight inches, and that was you, yesterday.”

            “But that was eight inches.  This is barely six,” I panted.

            “But yesterday, you weren’t so thick that you were splitting me open.”  He paused to catch his breath.  “Don’t get me wrong, this is amazing, but my body has its limits.”

            “Let’s try for two more inches,” I asked.

            “I’m game,” he said, his breath still catching a little.

            I pushed and pulled slightly, inch by inch.  When I had eight inches inside of him, I still had four thick inches sticking out.  I had all of that beautiful, thick meat sticking out of his ass, and he was completely stuffed.  I oversized him in every respect as a man.  I felt powerful, mighty, insuperable.

            Gently, carefully, lovingly, I began thrusting in and out. 

            I established a steady rhythm, his vice-like ass enveloping my girthy shaft with all its power.

            And I came.  I came forcefully, powerfully, and voluminously.  So much jizz fired out of my cock that I shook violently from the stream and the orgasm.  I saw every color of the visible light spectrum sparkle in front of my eyes.  My orgasm electrified my brain and pulled me deep into my body.

            When the orgasm subsided, I slowly pulled out of Puck.  By this point, I think Puck had come two or three times—I was too focused on the lightning sensations driving through my cock to fully count, but he looked blissed out.

            Puck looked to be sated, but my cock was still turgid and ready to play.

            I pointed to my cock, wet with lube and cum, throbbing and eager.  “I’m going to need more.  I didn’t masturbate because you asked me not to, and my tank’s not empty yet.”

            Puck smiled slyly and took as much of the head as he could into his mouth.  His jaw opened wide, and he could just barely get the head in.  That’s all that would fit.  So, he began caressing it with his hands, licking the head, covering my shaft with kisses, stroking it with tightened fists, ticking the glans with his beard, coating every inch of my magnificence with saliva as he administered to my needs.  Every time his beard came close to my cock head, I shook from the delight rocketing through me, so as I drew closer and closer to my second orgasm, he nuzzled my cock head with his stubbly face, kissing and cuddling and licking and sucking, but always bristling past with his facial hair.

            And I came again, blowing a load just as large as the first one, only this time it was squarely in Puck's face.  I would have warned him it was coming, that I was coming, but it took me by such surprise that all I could do was bellow, and then a stream of cum was blasting out of my cock and coating his face.

            Seeing him painted in a patina of my semen, just the sheer volume of my second orgasm in a row, I could feel the pressure leave my cock and balls, and my erection finally began to abate.

            Puck was smiling wiping the cum from his face—amused, shocked, and a little horrified—and he said to me, “While you’re this big, if you feel the need to masturbate, just do it.  If you save it up for me every time, I’m going to drown.”

[Mdlftr]

I'm waaaay behind the chronological order of this story, but --- THIS - at the end of "Part 2" 

Flynn: 

  "I must be a rich guy now.  Rich guys think they can buy everything.  I thought I could buy you."

 

Character study in 20 words!! A master class from TQuinta!

Also - heartbreaker!  *sob!*

[Mdlftr]

Still waay behind on this story, but catching up!

Character studies:

Puck: 

" He left without giving me his number."

OMG!  I am LOVING this! Defying expectations at every turn!

Also, you CLEARLY know something about the publishing world and the people who inhabit it!

More and more fascinating!

 

[MadDog]

Loved this! I'm sure you've already written what comes next, but I'm hoping all this extra testosterone helps kickstart some extra body hair and beard growth on him, and maybe even makes his gains at the gym easier! 

[norsejock]

I want the Repository to meet the Librarian....

[citizenies]

Feels like the borrowed balls growth will create a pseudo puberty. Though have to wait for the real next chapters

[ploder4]

I'm in agreement with the others.  I think all this extra muscle, cock and balls would have a multiplying effect on his workouts.

However,  I'm more interested in what happens when someone says "you can keep it."

[TQuintA]

Part 3 – The West California Wild Card

Chapter 11

            Masturbate I did.  Even with all the sexual exploits Puck and I got up to that week, if I didn’t jack off at least three times a day, I would go mad.  And masturbating a 12-inch cock is a definite workout.

            While I tried a few solo positions, I quickly determined my favorite.  I would open the big window in my living room, place an oversized beach blanket on the floor, and lie on my back in the sun, my cock sticking straight up into the air.  I would look down, and I’d have to look over the summits of my pecs, but even then, while a lot of the world was blocked by my muscles at this vantage, my cock still crested the peaks.  From this point of view, it looked like a freestanding cock—a monument to phallic excess, unattached to any person, even me.  However, the warm sun, the light breezes, every tactile sensation in the room showed me it was my cock.  Then, I would take both hands, right on top, left on bottom, and I would move them in opposite directions so they’d meet in the middle.  I’d squeeze harder at the ends than I would in the middle, causing my biceps to flex and fight for space with my pecs.  The head of my cock would excite and electrify with the extra pressure.  My cock would leak generously, coating my whole shaft in silky lubricant, prolonging the process.  After at least 15 minutes of self-worship, I’d erupt into a volcano of cum, spewing it all over my chest and abs, some of it landing on my face.  I’d bask in the pleasure and the warmth and the afterglow, and then I’d clean up with the beach towel and head back to my day. 

            I had to dedicate an hour a day to my cock minimum—and that’s not counting frolicking with Puck—or I couldn’t do anything else with my day.  The cock’s demands came first. 

            At first, I thought this arrangement arose because I just had such a higher concentration of hormones whizzing through my body.  My muscles felt denser and firmer, my beard and chest hair started growing in thicker, my armpits and crotch exuded a more masculine musk, my seminal volume was drastically increased.  However, on my second full day of being a cock-god, I started to feel it.

            The fizzing.

            When I first felt it, I had no clue what it was.  It was so localized that I mistook it for itchiness.  Then I mistook it for horniness.  But after three masturbation sessions in a row, I recognized it for what it was.  My body wanted me to somehow develop my cock even further to reach a new homeostasis.  And in order to reach that homeostasis, I’d have to reach a monstrous, inhuman 18 inches.  The mere thought was both erotic and terrifying, so I pushed it to the back of my mind. 

            Since it was only six days until Alphonse took his inches back, there were other ways to block out the fizzing.  I stepped up my workouts, I masturbated more regularly, I kept my mind occupied.  I also gave up meditating.  Sitting there, I could feel the heat emanate from my enormous genitalia, distracting me from my mindfulness and breathing.  So, I postponed any more meditation until the week was over.

            I’d honestly—if foolishly—thought that the week was going to be like a protracted sex-marathon with a dream cock in between my legs.  But, of course, life had other plans. 

            For instance, I had to go grocery shopping.  I’m a big guy who eats healthy and eats big.  I go grocery shopping at least once a week—often twice.  As a result, even with a giant bulge in my pants, I still had to go grocery shopping.  I’d gotten used to being stared at for my massive muscles, but, in the unrelenting fluorescent lights of grocery store, I got twice the number of stares.  Perhaps the people I passed thought I had stuffed a squash into my crotch. 

            I also got a surprise call from Shafe.  He wanted to Face Time, of course, to show off his gains, and he wanted to see mine as well.  I had been hitting the weights hard that week, so he could tell I was pumped from my traps and neck alone.  But when he wanted to see my quads—I quickly had to make a decision.  Do I should Shafe my ridiculous cock bulge and explain how I got it?  Or, do I resort to clever camera angles and shoot around the cock bulge?  I chose the latter, mostly because I didn’t want Shafe to have another sexual story to bring up casually at parties. 

            The worst was when H. K. called.  He wanted me to come in because the book launch was coming up, and he had gotten some marketing feedback about my books that he wanted me to incorporate in my sequels before I got too far into them.  So, I put on my tightest workout tights.  Then I put on another pair of tights over those.  Then, I put on my loosest pair of work-appropriate pants.  I still had a bulge, but if the meeting went quickly, I could maybe get away with it.  The meeting was thankfully brief, but the guy from marketing—who I’d never met before—was gorgeous with glossy lips and a pert ass.  It wasn’t as luscious as Puck’s, but it was still tantalizing.  He was on the same side of H. K.’s desk as me, and when he bent over it to point to some of the pages of my book with notes, his ass was right in front of my face, wiggling provocatively.  I couldn’t help but stare at it, and my dick grew hard.  In front of a stranger and my boyfriend’s brother, I was getting a giant erection.  I crossed my legs to try to hide it, but have you ever crossed your legs with a giant cock and thick, muscular quads, all wrapped in three pairs of pants?  It’s a near impossibility.  Thankfully, H. K. was distracted by the notes.  The guy from marketing, though, saw everything.  He followed me into the elevator, pouting his lips provocatively.  When the doors to the elevator closed, he hit the emergency stop button.  Then, he moved to release my cock and blow me right there in the elevator.  If there had only been one layer of cloth, he would have had me unsheathed in seconds, that’s how determined he was.  When I vociferously insisted I had a boyfriend, he smiled, pointed to his wedding ring, and went right back to my crotch.  I eventually got him to stop by pointing to the security camera.

            Despite these realities, especially the quotidian ones, Puck made sure our week had a daily pornographic escapade, especially now that he knew he couldn’t take my whole cock.

            Day two, when he came over for lunch, Puck pulled out a shiny red poser from his bag.  I recognized it as Shafe’s—I can only assume Puck stole it as Shafe made no mention of it.  He showed me a Youtube video of the routine that Shafe had used to win his most recent contest, and told me I had until that evening to memorize it.  Then, he headed off to a mysterious appointment he told me nothing about.  I spent the next three hours practicing and jacking off.

            When Puck came back, I was in my bedroom with the door locked.  I told him to get ready.  Once he was seated, I came out to the living room.  My junk was beyond huge for the poser.  It only held one of my balls; the other was fully out of the poser and dangling between my legs.  The cock itself barely fit, two inches of the root of my cock fully visible at the waistline.

            I went through the poses one by one.  Most of the poses were not as refined as Shafe’s (he was a pro; I was not), but I hit them well enough to make Puck applaud with enthusiasm.  My favorite pose—I knew none of their names—had me bring both arms up, place my hands behind my head, and flex my biceps to the side of my face and point my elbows out at the audience.  My head felt enveloped by large muscles, swallowed by my own mass.  I’d be doing that one in the bathroom mirror a lot from now on.  Much to Puck’s delight, all the attention and flexing caused me to spring a full erection, which shredded Shafe’s poser off my body. Exactly as he’d hoped and planned.  He finished the pose down by giving me another attentive blowjob.

            Day three, Puck came over in the afternoon with a duffel bag.  He explained that this is what he’d done the previous day while I practiced, especially since he realized he couldn’t keep up with me at my current size.  He’d gone to an adult toy store and bought a wide collection of dildos modeled after the famous cocks of porn stars.  He had me get naked in my bedroom and get hard—not a difficult challenge in my hormone-drenched state.  He would pull them out one by one.  If I was bigger than the cock, he would fuck me with it, and I was not allowed to touch my cock.  Puck could, but I couldn’t. 

            He started with the smallest they had.  I was obviously bigger than that one.  Puck was pretty sure his own cock was slightly bigger than that dildo, but we had to start somewhere.  Each cock got bigger, stretching me out wider.  I’m sure Puck was experiencing some schadenfreude after the workout I gave his asshole on day one, but I didn’t care.  I enjoyed the sensation of progressively larger cocks penetrating me, and at my current size, my libido and genitals needed as much attention as possible.  Each orgasm was as intense and voluminous as the first. 

            Puck was sure the fifth dildo was going to be bigger than me.  But, it wasn’t.  So, he fucked me with that one too.  It was so thick I thought I was going to be torn open, but I loved it.  It had been so long since I’d had anything up my ass, and I needed it this week.  That orgasm was so delightful that I roared and rent the sheets with my clawing.

            Since I had yet to be defeated, Puck pulled out the sixth, a John Holmes model he’d purchased as a joke. 

            I was just a hair bigger than it. 

            Puck stared at my cock and the dildo side by side, and I was just that one iota bigger.  I’m pretty sure that at a foot in length, I was emphatically and most decidedly not as big as the real John Holmes, but I was bigger than the dildo. Those manufacturers were cheapskates.  So, I felt essentially a foot of cock go up my ass—exactly what Puck had experienced on day one.  I don’t know if it was because of the stretching my ass had already been through, the sheer mass of my ass giving me more room to work with, some byproduct of borrowing six inches of cock, or just natural talent, but Puck was able to just—just—just get the dildo all the way in.  He called me a show off, but then he fucked me mercilessly with that dildo, and I erupted ecstatically.

            Puck fucked me six times that afternoon.

            Day four, Puck was ready to try taking my cock up his ass again.  It was essentially a repeat of day one, but I was so happy he tried.

            Day five, he came over with two fleshlights, just to see how long it would take me to fucking destroy them.  The plan was exciting, but I could just barely get my thick cock into the damn thing.  And when I tried to turn it on, I jammed it, utterly breaking it without even getting any stimulation.

            To compensate, Puck drew me a bath.  I laid there in repose, all of my large, pumped muscles overfilling the tub and glistening wet from the hot water.  My hair clung to me darkly and thickly, even thicker than normally.  My legs were so thick and took up so much of the tub that my cock had to drape to the side, peeking over that edge.  He cleaned me thoroughly and attentively.  Then, using the hot water as lubricant, he gave me a two-handed hand job.  After ten minutes of constant stimulation, I was nowhere closer to orgasm, so he also began using his mouth.  I came so thoroughly that the hardest part of the cleanup was all the water I spilled out of the tub.

            Day six was our last day before Alphonse came back from El Paso.  Puck wanted to take me to a Wet Undies contest at Grove, but people knew me there and the winner would get his photo on the website.  He even volunteered to put me in a wig and makeup so no one would recognize me, but everyone would recognize the muscle monster with the enormous cock.

            “If I could point something out,” I said, standing in the living room in only a pair of white undies that tried to cling to my balls and my ass, “I can think of some things we’ve never tried the entire time we’ve been together.”

            “Oh?”  There was a note of worry in his voice.

            “For instance, in all these months, you’ve never made a deposit.”

            “I haven’t?”
            “No,” I insisted. 

            He looked pensive.

            “Are you scared?” I asked him

            “Nothing of the sort.  I just didn’t realize I never have.”

            “Nope.  The first time you saw it, it was Shafe.  Then those random strangers online.  Never you.”

            Puck looked impressed.

            “A mountain of godly muscle with a giant dick, and you could spend all night with me at a glorious new size.”

            “30 pounds is a lot,” he said with hesitancy in his voice.

            I flexed my bicep close to his face.  “You liked fucking me when I was big and swollen, borrowing strangers’ muscles.  And yet, you’ve never gotten smaller even once.”

            “That’s true,” he admitted. 

            I could tell he needed some more convincing, so I added, “The biggest you ever saw me was just over 280—282 or 283.  Around there.”

            “282,” he corrected, almost on top of me.  He’d had that number memorized.

            “If I borrow 30,” I continued, “I’d be just shy of 300—maybe even exactly with all the testosterone-fueled workouts I’ve had as of late.  Just for tonight, I’d be twice your weight.”

            “300 pounds?”  I could see the lights in Puck’s eyes dance.  He really wanted to see me at 300, but he didn’t want to shrink down under 150.

            “How much to get you all the way to 300?” he asked.  I could see the mental calculations he was doing.

            “Let’s weigh me and find out,” I said.  As I walked to the scale in the bathroom, I kept talking.  “With all the hormones surging through me thanks to these bad boys,” I grabbed my enlarged testicles, “and my increased workouts, I’m sure I’ve packed on some size this past week.”  By then, I was at the scale.

            “I’m 272 pounds now,” I announced, walking back out to Puck in the living room.  “I’ve put on five pounds, so it’ll take 28 to get me to 300.”

            Puck was looking for something, anything to convince him to try this, so I said one more thing: “Carpe diem.”

            Before he changed his mind, he took my hand and guided me into my bedroom.  Once we were inside, he closed the door and said, “You can borrow 28 pounds of muscle.”

            The moment he said it, Puck began to shrink.  His chest withdrew, his arms leaned out, his legs diminished, even his powerful ass receded.  Smaller and smaller he grew.  I was actually impressed that he had 28 extra pounds of muscle to lend, but a professional ballet dancer has more muscle mass than I gave him credit.  Puck looked down in mixed shock and disbelief as his arms grew even thinner, his chest smoothed out.  He stood there, his clothes hanging off him.  He looked gangly and diminished.

            I, meanwhile, felt Puck’s muscles pouring into me.  I felt it first in my ass—unsurprising since it came from Puck.  My already massive ass grew even firmer and harder and rounder.  The briefs I was wearing stretched from all sides to maintain my exaggerated mass.  My legs soon followed.  My thighs thickened, my quads growing thicker and sturdier, my calves tensing and swelling, erupting into diamonds of muscular cords.  My legs were stronger columns of support for my body.  But it didn’t stop there.  My arms burgeoned with sinew, intensifying with articulated brawn, my biceps pushing into my lats and chest more than they had in years.  My pecs, not to be outdone, ballooned outwards, pushing upwards and outwards proudly, thick globes of beef, striated with sinews.  My abs hardened next, tightening, the grooves between my individual ab muscles becoming more defined and deeper.  Perhaps because I was borrowing from Puck, my waist, surprisingly, did not thicken at all as muscle poured into my body.  As I reached a size I had not been in years, I felt leonine and predatory.

            When I reached my full size, I stood there in front of Puck.  Even though I wasn’t much taller than him, I was twice his size in width, breadth and girth, especially with my giant bulge protruding in my briefs.

            His muscles felt unlike anything I’d ever borrowed before.  I was clearly heavier—I could feel my increased mass.  But, somehow, I also felt lighter and more agile.  Dancer’s muscles are paradoxical.

            I turned to look at myself in my mirror, suddenly aware that my traps and shoulders had also bloomed with new thickness, attempting to obstruct my movements.  To counteract my body’s struggle against itself, I turned even harder, which caused my ass to flex, bulging in size until my briefs could not take it anymore.  They split, blowing out the left side, giving my colossal ass some space to breathe and relax.

            Done with that fabric prison, I tore it off with my left hand.  My cock and balls flopped out powerfully, bouncing as they landed against my thickened thighs. 

            In the mirror, I was mighty.  It had been so long since I’d seen myself at a full 300 pounds that I forgot just how full and wide I was, how far out my pecs jutted, how dramatically curved my arms and legs were.  The giant package sitting between my legs looked right and proper on a body this superior.

            Still looking at myself in the mirror, with my right hand, I picked Puck up so he could see just how insignificant his weight was to me.  I held him there for a minute, feeling him ineffectively squirm against my strength, looking at the disparity between us in the mirror as my bicep flexed rigid, round, and ripe.

            When I put him down, I said one word: “Worship.”

            Puck wrapped his arms around my waist, just marveling how small it was compared to my protruding pecs and my pillars of thighs.  I strode across the room for him.  Even with Puck’s dancer’s grace, I still had to waddle, throwing one leg around the other to compensate for the disparity between my massive quads and my comparatively minuscule waist.

            When I walked back to the bed, I laid down on it regally, and Puck began worshipping every inch of me.  He caressed my feet, kissing them like a dutiful serf.  He stroked my calves, dumbstruck that my calves were that much thicker than his arms.  I rolled over to the side to give him access to my giant, perfected ass, and he attended to it with gusto.  He reamed me out, finding every last millimeter with his tongue, alighting every nerve ending as his beard caressed my sensitive skin, and showing me just how attentive he could be.

            When he had satisfied my ass, he moved up to my back.  My shoulders and lats spread wide like wings, tapering down to the small of my back, which was dense and powerful.  He traced his fingers along the hills and valleys of my overdeveloped back muscles, feeling the grooves so deep he could easily place his fingers within them.

            Feeling as though he was neglecting the front half of his god’s muscles, I rotated onto my back, present my abs and pecs.  He gave my ridiculously etched abs a tongue batch, undaunted by the thick carpet of fur growing on my midsection.  He worked his way up to my pecs with his tongue.  Halfway up, his head careened into my unmoving chest, and he had to completely turn his body sideways to continue his devotions.  Each of my woolly pecs was bigger than his head, so each pec took twenty minutes to cover entirely with his tongue.  To make his task more challenging, I would occasionally flex my pecs to expand them outwards, increasing the surface area for him to explore. 

            When his tongue neared the cleavage between them, I contracted, trapping it, and making him earn its release.  While he was trapped, he used his hands to tweak my nipples, playing with them teasingly.  He was determined to give my masterpiece pecs all the attention they demanded.  My nipples hardened and sent shots of pleasure to my brain, so after a minute, I released his tongue and let him continue his tour of my divine massiveness.

            After my pecs, I raised my arms above my head, exposing my cavernous armpit, thick with hair and musk.  He stuck his face within to inhale deeply, and his whole face was nearly lost in its depth.  He nuzzled deeply, licking every curved surface of my pit, only to repeat the process with the other pit, just as devotedly.

            Finished with my pits, I brought my left arm down, and flexed it.  Compared to his own bony arms, my arm was a cannon.  The flexed bicep and tricep together rivaled the size of his head.  He showered my arm with kisses, making sure to lick the vein that traced my musculature back to its point of origin.  He tried, foolishly, to wrap his hands around my bicep, but there was no way his hands could encircle it.

            This whole time, my cock stood at full attention.  So, I pointed to my balls, informing him he had earned the right to lick those too.  He somehow took one into his mouth and held it there.  It felt sublime.  When I purred in contentment, he released it and put the other one in.  As he sucked on my balls, his nose was planted in my pubic hair, breathing in deeply.  I could hear his moans of delight.  He must like my smell.

            When he finished with my balls, all that was left was my shaft.  I knew Puck didn’t have the strength or the remaining saliva to bring me to climax, and he was a confirmed bottom, so I got into my favorite masturbation position and gestured that he should get himself off by watching me jacking my massive meat.

            I spread my legs and looked down at my erect cock.  With my extra mass, I could see almost nothing over the twin peaks of my pecs.  They obscured almost everything from this point of view.  I could still see my cock, but I was shocked how much less of it I could see.  I began stroking firmly, strongly, thoroughly.  With the extra 30 pounds, I had to spread my legs wider than I was used to.  With the extra 30 pounds, my ass pushed me off the bed higher than I was used to.  With the extra 30 pounds, my arms collided with my pecs all that more often, making me hold my arms at angles I wasn’t used to.  It almost felt like I had never masturbated in this body before, like I was masturbating a stranger’s giant cock with a stranger’s giant muscles.

            As I pleasured myself, I heard Puck come to climax at least twice.  He was in heaven, and I was getting closer to it myself.  When I felt myself finally getting there, reaching climax, I warned Puck with my eyes, and then I exploded.  Inside, I felt the intense detonation of neurons and my pleasure centers light up in crackling activity.  Outside, I vibrated with orgasmic rictus.  The first volley was the largest I had ever produced, and it landed in the grooves of my abs and all over my chest.  The second volley was equally copious, as was the third.  I stopped counting after that, too enrapt by the sensations of pleasure emanating from my cock.

            I lay there, panting, when I felt something wet on my cock.  Unbidden, Puck had gone to the bathroom and gotten a sponge and a bucket of hot soapy water.  He cleaned me down thoroughly, then went back into the bathroom for a bucket of hot water with no soap.  He rinsed me down just as thoroughly.  He dried me off too, my hair fluffing and pillowing.

            He lay down on top of me, and we spent the rest of the evening like that, my giant body cradling his small frame.

[MadDog]

Perfect! Nice to see that the fizzing has returned