Crotchmania

by Alex Anders

A lucky porn star gets to partake of the newest fad.

“Oh god, man, that felt amazing!”

“You’re telling me, that was mind blowing! Literally!”

“Ha, ha. Get a new joke, dude.”

“Well, it’s kinda hard to think when you’ve just had your brains fucked out. … Literally.”

I sighed and looked down at my partner for the shoot. Working for Crotchmania had its perks, and fucking crotchmen was one of them. They were insatiable! And oh, so sexy. Their delicate fingers and strong hands at the end of long, powerful legs. Their perky, round asses opposite their delicious, sexy faces. Their balls hanging off their chins and their cocks jutting out of their kissable lips—at least when rock hard and squirting cum. I was still unsure how they managed to talk when hard.

I sighed again, this time with fondness and lust. “God, how did I get so lucky?”

“You answered one of our ads,” the shoot director said. I’d forgotten he and the cameras were there. “This is nice and all,” he went on, “but you need to renew your contract.” He held out two clipboards. “You have options now. This one,” he indicated the one in his left hand, “extends the bog-standard porn contract you signed for another year. But this one,” he indicated the one in his right hand, “pledges your transformation into a crotchman and extends your contract indefinitely.”

Despite having cum three times in the last shoot alone, I boned up hard immediately on hearing that. “I’m sorry, what?”

The director looked down at my manhood and smirked. “You heard me. I’ll just leave these here.” He set the contracts on the bed and left.

“And another crotchman joins the ranks,” my partner said.

“Oh, shut up, I’ll probably go for the original contract.” I went to pick it up.

“They never do,” the crotchman replied. Then he pointed at the clipboard in my hands. Sure enough, it was the crotchman contract.

I turned beet red. “So I’m curious, that means nothing.”

He hummed in triumph. Then his eyes softened. “Look, there’s no shame in it. Lots of men go crotch, not just porn stars.”

That was true, it was the latest transformation fad. Several corporate executives had it done, as did many celebrities—most of those had to revert to fullmen for business reasons, but the reality stars got to keep it.

I looked over the contract. It was quite generous. Ten thousand dollars a week salary, plus a five percent share of the gross profits for every video with me in it. Not that I’d need the money—I’d get free room and board in the Crotch House with the other crotchmen, and all the sex I’d ever need. God, I was getting hard just thinking about it. Well, harder. I’d never actually boned down.

“What’s it like?” I asked suddenly. “You know…?”

“Being a crotchman?” the crotchman finished. “Heaven.” He lay back, as much as he could, with stars in his eyes. “Everything’s so much more concentrated, y’know? And you don’t need to eat, either. Sex is all the food you need.”

“So that’s why you’re so insatiable.”

He smirked knowingly.

“What about mobility?”

“It takes some getting used to, but you’ll be extra flexible too. These shoulder-hips have impressive range.” He demonstrated, standing on one leg and swivelling the other every which way. God that was so hot. “I don’t miss having separate arms and legs at all,” he added. “I don’t need ‘em.”

“What about balance?”

“Just remember you have hands instead of feet, and you’ll get the hang of it in a week, tops,” he shrugged. “Walking’s fine though, there’s no change there.”

“And what about talking?” I asked, remembering the idle thought I had at the start of this. “How can you talk around a rock hard cock that’s also your tongue?”

“That’s a skill even I’m not sure of,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Most of the time, we have no need to talk when fucking, and when we do, it’s short simple phrases, like ‘Oh god’ or ‘I’m gonna cum’. Outside of sex, we usually just get semis. That’s easier to get the hang of.”

“I’ll bet.” I rubbed myself idly. I looked down at the contract. I really should have my agent here for this, but I wanted—no, I needed this. I couldn’t stand one minute longer being a fullman. I took the pen and signed. “Now what?”

“Now I get to fuck you,” the crotchman grinned lasciviously.

“Wait, what?” I asked, my cock straining even harder at the thought. It began to leak precum.

“Crotchmania’s crotchmen have a special enhancement,” he explained. “Any man we fuck turns into a crotchman.”

“So that’s why you always bottom for fullmen.”

He gave me a look. “Do you always state the obvious when you find out something new?”

“It’s not always obvious, so yes.”

He rolled his eyes. “Go stand in front of that mirror.” He pointed to the one on the “closet” door. “You’ll wanna watch this. I know I did.” He grinned, his boner just beginning to peek through his teeth.

I knew as well as he did that that “closet” was actually a dark room with a camera in it and the mirror itself was one-way, like you see on cop shows. Now I knew what those “subscription exclusive” videos were about—they were probably filming our whole conversation! I smirked at the camera and leaned against the mirror.

“Like this?” I said, thrusting out my ass in anticipation.

“Perfect,” he said, his hard-on lisp getting thicker. He started rubbing his face against my ass, his cock getting harder and harder. It’s a good thing I’d douched since my last visit to the bathroom, or he’d’ve been able to taste everything.

When the pre started leaking, slicking everything up, I felt a tingling on my ass that soon suffused though my entire being. It was starting! I looked at my waist to see my navel approaching it, my abs receding into my hips. I giggled, then added “Bye bye abs, it was fun while it lasted, but I’m onto bigger things. Well, in a manner of speaking.” I winked for the camera. Hey, just because I’m a pornstar doesn’t mean I’m not an actor. Besides, this was fun.

When my abs finished receding, two by two, leaving my chest and crotch right next to each other, they started fusing, melding seamlessly into each other. The end result was neither crotch nor chest, neither hips nor shoulders, but a beautiful fusion of the two. I let go of the mirror and braced myself with my legs. I knew what was coming: my arms receding into my thighs, my elbows receding into my knees, my forearms receding into my calves, my wrists receding into my ankles, my hands receding into my feet, my fingers receding into my toes.

I was about to question this when my feet experienced an orgasmic bliss. My toes lengthened into fingers, the webbing of my feet drawing back to release them. My big toes twisted out into thumbs, grasping at the carpet for traction. The calluses on my soles softened to reveal two delicate, sensitive palms, my fingers curling at the sensation. It was orgasmic, but nothing compared to what happened next.

My neck started dropping into what was left of my torso, dragging my head along with it. My jaw and taint fused into one, my balls hanging off the tip of my chin. My lips wrapped themselves around my cock, my tongue fused into it. My god, it tasted exquisite, absolutely coated with my pre! Sweet and salty and just a hint of bitter. I almost came right then, but I was a professional. My ears and eyes and nose and mop of hair settled into their new places around my crotch/chest/head almost as an afterthought, and then, the grand finale.

My prostate melded into my brain, the seat of self wrapping itself around my rectum and suffusing into my crotch/chest/head. Now I know why crotchmen never get tired of that “mind blowing” line. It really was mind blowing! In every sense of the word! Fuck professionalism, I came right then, spattering the mirror with my first load as a crotchman.

My shoot partner wasn’t done yet though, he was still fucking me, having wrapped his legs around mine so I wouldn’t fall flat on my face in the afterglow. They were so strong and sturdy, I started boning up again.

“Hey, hey,” he said. It was a little hard to make out, what with his cock-tongue being rock hard and stuffed up my ass, but I acknowledged him and he continued. “You can thtill hack out. The hree wears ough in a week, hut the cum is for lighe.”

It took me a while to process his lisp, and when I did my eyes widened at this information. Wears off in a week? Why would I want that? “Don’t you dare pull out!” I demanded, my own lisp getting stronger. “You cum in my ass like a good little crotchman!”

“Yes sir,” he said. And after two more seconds that felt like millennia, my ass was flooded with his cum. My ass ate it greedily, absorbing it into my flesh. I was hit with another wave of orgasmic tingling suffusing my entire being, the cum transmuting me into a crotchman permanently, my DNA being overwritten with crotchman code. There was no going back now.

I was a crotchman.

And I love it!

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