An overwhelming Friday

by Houndfiend   

Pecos has had a difficult few days as he struggles to come to terms with an overwhelming and very surprising new addition. 

At the peak of the mountain the air was brisk enough in June for a light sweater, the sky was the sort of lapis-shade that made painters weep for the robes of Mary in the Renaissance, and in the near distance below, bright stones jutted and leapt out of the hilly downlands, each the color of turmeric and saffron, cinnamon and paprika. The Germans had decided to call those sacred lands “the Garden of the Gods”. To sell their beer at.

All in all, between the beautiful stone formations, the bright yellow aspen leaves of fall, and the clear blue sky, Pecos could not have asked for a better day to feel completely and totally the opposite of at peace. He huffed a sigh, sharp as a flint, and turned away from the panorama and began stalking his way back down the mountain. The Spaniards had decided to call it “El Capitan”, for its jarring and jagged height, so commanding of the horizon. The taibo who came calling after them decided to name it Pike’s Peak, after a man named Zebulon, which frankly just confirmed Pecos’s disdain in an entirely petty way. Zebulon Pike. What a fucking farce.

To say that Pecos knew the mountain by a different name was to misunderstand on a core and fundamental level. It implied a passivity, an unconscious acceptance. Pecos was not passive in anything he did, and so when he called the mountain Tavakiev or Heey-otoyoo’, he was choosing to know it by the name of his comrades in the Ute and the Arapaho. Not the name of the fucking settlers.

Strong and sure feet struck the ground as the man began the long, long walk back down the mountain. Beneath his jeans his legs were thick, corded, swarthy skin that romantics or well-meaning white men might call terracotta, but Pecos considered himself red. It was a challenge, as was most things he did, daring someone to try and confront him about his own identity. Long, thick black hair in a massive French braid hung down to the small of his back, lightly slapping against bared skin. He’d taken his shirt and jacket off on the way up, the hike keeping him warmer than clothes could, and anyway, he hated clothes if he could get away with it. Further down the mountain he’d take off his shoes for the rest of the way, once it got a bit warmer, once the air remembered that fall was no longer allowed to be anything but “barely better than summer”. But he didn’t mind the heat. He minded something else, a different kind of heat.

Several hours later, with the sun just barely beginning to approach the horizon, Pecos looked up as the mountain caught its rays and turned it bright and shining. The jagged mountain peak felt almost faceted in how it caught and reflected the light. It was beautiful. So much of the world remained beautiful, unchanging in its majesty despite it all.

The idea of it turned his gut sour. He slammed his car door shut, turned the ignition, and began driving back to the highway, back home.

“I’m home,” Pecos called out as he let the door close behind him. There was no response from the studio apartment. He lived alone. He didn’t like to live alone, but there were a lot of things in this country that he didn’t like, and he still had to live with it anyway. He connected his phone to a Bluetooth speaker and threw on some random Spotify mix without bothering to look at what was on it. He collapsed into a desk chair and wiggled his mouse until the monitor woke itself up blearily. Between his legs his cock pulsed once, impatient, eager, hungry. Pecos just scowled down at it.

His cock didn’t care though, pulsing again with enough strength that he felt his right leg twitch, felt the way one of his massive balls rolled itself down his thigh into a slightly different position, tugging his genitals down somewhat with the weight.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” the man muttered. He still wasn’t used to the appetite his new cock had, still fairly sure he didn’t want to get used to it. Because that was the problem, that one word, that one incredible, impossible word.

His new cock. Insatiable and uncaring of its body’s complicated feelings regarding it, it gave another pulse, even stronger than before, and this time Pecos felt the tip of it emerge from its protective sheathe, brushing up against sweaty fur and thin cotton in a way which made him gasp, his head thrown back, legs twitching, hands tensing into rictus-fists, jaw clenched tight as all the air left his lungs like a gunshot, just that sensation alone, just the tip light against his boxers, had the edges of his sight blacken and turn to radio static.

It was not an unpleasant sensation. In a rush, Pecos unbuttoned his pants, fly ripped down, and shoved his boxers and jeans down below his hips.

What stared him back in the eye as it hit the air-conditioned cool air was not the cock he had grown used to growing up with.

Below his belly—a bit chubby—where a thick black treasure trail began beneath his belly button, that heavy pelt of hair stopped being a heavy pelt of hair and rapidly transitioned to fur, shiny obsidian-black, covering a sheathe, a canid sheathe, with huge balls, each one alone too big to hold with a single hand, obscenely big, their weight pulling on the thin strip of fur that connected his new sheathe to his body, pulling on the bottom lip of the sheathe so that his new canid cock would constantly have the thin tip of it slip out to brush against his pants if he was ever wearing them. What continued to emerge from that sheathe had stopped being thin, thick tyrian purple and indigo veins pulsing heavy currents of garnet-red blood into and across the surface of what was unmistakably inhuman, musky, feral, completely canine dick, jutting out about 6 inches from the top of his sheathe, the sheathe that had already begun to swell with what was apparently called a knot. Pecos tipped his head back again as the cool air caressed his dick.

“Fuuuuck,” he growled. The past few days had felt like nothing but this, nothing but this new cock constantly demanding that he attend to it, that he take his hand and rest it below the pinkish spade-shaped tip where his shaft bulged out before thinning a bit before reaching his knot, still growing in its sheathe, two distinct and heavy bulges growing inside him, stretching himself out in ways he still had no idea how to cope with.

To say nothing of his balls, as his other hand reached further down to grab at one, marveling—despite himself, despite the confusion and anger—marveling at just how fucking goddamn huge they were. When his knot left its sheath he’d been around seven and a half inches long, with another half an inch hidden behind it as the root for a comically perfect eight inches, bigger than his human dick had been by a couple but those balls. He brushed his thumb through his thick and shaggy fur, caressing his right ball as his left hand started slowly moving up and down his cock, the spade-tip having already been rapidly jetting out thick ropes of pre-cum, each single pulse releasing a spurt with the sort of consistency and amount that a single human load of his didn’t match, his mostly-hairless chest and belly growing literally completely doused in pre by the second as the jets got stronger, beginning to reach his neck, his chin, the bottom of his lips, and then his mouth as he started panting, feeling one of his balls roil and jerk. He’d measured his new dick but he hadn’t been able to get up the guts to measure his balls. He didn’t think he wanted to know how big they were formally. He’d held up an apple to one of them. It wasn’t exactly the biggest apple, but even if it had been, a single one of his new furry balls utterly dwarfed it.

And the production was blatant and visible. Pecos had had to take off work sick for the past couple days, they were so fucking productive. The constant hyperdrive of adrenaline, testosterone, oxytocin, and more that they pumped all through his body had left him restless, temperamental, and above all else, so fucking horny.

His hand was flying up and down the dick now, his brain boiling in raw lust, too horny to give a shit about logic or concern or anything other than needing to fuck, fuck, fuck, cum, cum, cum, gotta cum, gotta cum, gotta—

His knot swelled up fully in his sheathe as a terrifyingly inhuman whine erupted from his throat. His balls were so big now that they literally had to take several seconds to clench up tight, so big that he could feel the terrifyingly huge pulses of cum running up not through his cock but through his whole lower body, wrapping around his hips and causing them to jerk without any possibility of control, jackhammering on pure animalistic instinct. Pecos took the few seconds he had left to take advantage of another newfound skill that he’d accidentally discovered yesterday morning when his hips had started doing…that…as he’d woken up. Still sitting in his desk chair, he curled his body forward, unnatural flexibility, his hips still pumping, eyes unfocused and without thought.

He opened his mouth wide and his new dog dick humped up to meet it. His panting tongue lapped at the top of his cock for a few moments but he kept bending forward, his hips kept pumping too fast for any regular human to be able to do, until finally his sheathe began hammering at his lips, and in an agonizingly pleasurable half-second, it peeled back and released his mostly-engorged knot. In the next half second Pecos finished curling his spine forward, mouth going as far as possible, and his hips pumped once, twice, then on the third time instead of smacking against his lips or teeth, he opened his jaw just a bit more and the knot slammed into him.

His eyes watered as he gave a genuine howl muffled around the knot as it rapidly swelled up and locked itself in his maw, his hips still jerking except now the tip of his cock would get shoved about half an inch deeper into his throat, completely blocking off his air, mashing his sheathe into his face, and then on the jerk back his knot would get stuck against the back of his teeth and his own flattened tongue, and that sensation would utterly overwhelm Pecos again, causing him to thrust that last half-inch further once more, the pattern repeating itself over and over.

And then another half a second passed, and the first spurt of cum flung itself straight down his throat. He hadn’t exactly wanted to do this, to be literally stuck on his own dick, but that one spurt had gone on for a full second, on its own a few tablespoons of uncannily thick off-white cum, metallic and salty, and Pecos had learned that as uncomfortable as he’d get, this was the only option.

Because the spurts just kept coming, he kept humping into his own face, eyes still tearing up from the terrifying amounts of pleasure rushing through his body in a constant feedback loop, each clench and thrust of his knotted cock sending another massive shot-glass of dog-dicked cum straight into his stomach, which gurgled with something that was either hunger or nausea. He couldn’t tell. He didn’t know if he wanted to be able to.

A full hour and ten minutes later, Pecos’s knot had softened enough that on a particularly erratic jerk of his hips it had popped out of his mouth, causing him to immediately begin to cough and hack, spine uncurling in an instant as the rest of his swollen cock left his mouth, still spurting cum every five or six seconds, though at this point his load had slowed down back to roughly the same quantity as his usual horned-up pre-cum would. He slumped back in his chair, panting, out of breath, as his cock kept tensing up, each time bathing his chest and neck and face in more of his inhuman cum. As he slumped further down, stomach slightly bloated and sloshing from the sheer amount of cum he’d produced, Pecos felt his balls slump further down his thighs, but more than that, he felt a slow, languorous pulse through them that had grown increasingly—and frighteningly—more familiar over the past two days.

He was satisfied for the moment—or as satisfied as someone can be when still getting hosed down by their own insatiable animal dick—but those balls weren’t. They were already roiling and tensing, thickening with a fresh load to incapacitate him with again in an hour or two. Pecos shuddered as his brain recoiled slightly less from that idea. He had no idea what the fuck had happened to get his regular human dick he’d had for 32 years before this somehow turned into this freakish abomination of a monster cock, but one thing he did know was that something had to give. He couldn’t afford to live like this, spending practically every waking hour debilitatingly horny and filled with feral urges like he was a beast in rut.

I mean, fuck, man, Pecos thought to himself exhaustedly, looking hopelessly down between his legs. I’ve got rent to pay.

Vote on this story

The best instructions are those that are clearly stated by Ziel Marty talks his super smart friend into whipping him up a special potion that will help with his little problem. 5,194 words Added Jun 2016 25k views 5.0 stars (11 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Huge Cock•Hyper Cock•Hyper Cum•Infectious •M/M

The salt: the African-American by RdyRoger 3 parts 3,969 words Added Jun 2010 16k views 5.0 stars (2 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Cock•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Increased Libido•Voice Deepening•Size Increase•Race/Ethnicity Change•Hair Growth/Getting Hairy•Hairless•Tongue Growth•Nonconsensual change

The salt: the lab assistant by RdyRoger Helping out at the lab where a scientist is developing very effective body enhancement formulas can expose you to temptations too tough to resist. 9,042 words Added Jun 2010 21k views 5.0 stars (7 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Huge Cock•Hyper Cum•Other Mental Changes•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Increased Libido•Getting Handsomer•Voice Deepening•Plausible Size Difference•Size Increase•Hair Growth/Getting Hairy•Nonconsensual change •M/M

Simon says by BRK My goofy, fun-loving shop owner loves staging these ridiculous competitions with us, but this latest one is definitely the craziest. 2 parts 7,732 words Added May 2013 Updated 30 Jun 2017 25k views 5.0 stars (10 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Cock•Hyper Cock•Extra digits•Multi-abs•Multicock•Multiarm•Multilimb•Muscle/Strength•Getting Taller•Size Increase•Suggestion

Stuff in the cellar by Charles Westfall Richard is already good-looking and abnormally hung when he discovers some alien equipment in the cellar of his new house—including a vat of goo that transforms him into someone even hotter and more hung. And there’s no way Richard’s keeping his new gifts to himself. 4 parts 15k words Added Jul 2002 26k views 5.0 stars (10 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Cock•Hyper Cum•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Pointy Ears•Size Increase •t/t•t/t/t

Sugar packets by RdyRoger Envious of other guys who can grow muscle like it’s nothing, David decides to try some sugar packets left behind by some beachgoing studs. 4 parts 12k words Added Jul 2002 30k views 5.0 stars (7 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Cock•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength •M/M

The blue daiquiri by BRK Another artifact of the universe makes an appearance, this time at a loft party to celebrate the pilot Henry scripted, Ice City, going to series. If only Henry were having as much success figuring out his feelings for his sweet but ordinary-looking roommate, Gavin. 9,647 words Added Oct 2017 14k views 5.0 stars (13 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Cock•Multicock•Multihead•Multiarm•Multilimb•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Getting Handsomer•Getting Taller•Suggestion•Complete •M/M

The forge by mf81 Paul meets Derrick, mysterious blacksmith that invites him up to his place up in the woods called The Forge. What he finds there will change life in ways he couldn’t imagine. 3 parts 7,122 words Added Oct 2018 15k views 5.0 stars (20 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Cock•Hyper Cum•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength •M/M