Would a constantly growing cock really be so great? One man tells his story and explains how his condition has affected his life.
2,883 words Added Jan 2024 6,409 views 4.8 stars (19 votes)
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We’ve all had that wish. You know, massive cock, maybe even the biggest in the world. Well let me tell you, it’s no picnic. You’d think that with your sex stick, bigger is always better. But I’ve learned the hard way (pun sort of intended, sort of unavoidable) that having a massive, ever-growing dick is a pain in the ass.
I don’t know what set off the growth. I was in college, and I had topped out at just over six inches. Slightly above average. I imagined getting bigger. Nine or ten inches. Maybe even a foot. Porn star dimensions. I even dreamed about it. A couple times in my dreams it was impossibly huge, way bigger than anatomically possible. Sometimes I even wished for it. But it was all just thoughts to fuel my teenage libido, getting me to the edge just as fast as daydreaming about a hot guy.
And then one day it was bigger. Not by a lot, but it was easy to tell. I knew my cock very intimately. Plus my balls were a little bigger too. From then on, the growth just didn’t stop.
At first, it was just incredibly hot. A dream come true. I went from mostly just stroking myself to having a vibrant sex life. I still had plenty of intimate relations with myself, though. The bigger cock and balls seemed to come with more hormones and increased libido. I experimented a lot sexually, and I found that I could have practically any guy I wanted. Like I said, dream come true.
When I approached a foot long, I started to see the impracticality of my situation. Suddenly, guys were worried that I might be too big to take. Now, I was never exclusively a top, or even that attached to anal as a main source of pleasure, but it sure felt weird to have that option cut off from me. Part of the thrill of getting huge had been having size queens throw themselves at me. Now only size queens would even attempt it. And I began to realize that soon I’d even be too big for them.
When you can compare the size of your dick to your other appendages, things have gotten out of hand. You’ve read the stories where they say something like “as big as my forearm,” right? Well, your forearm is pretty large. Turns out, when your cock is that size hard, it’s several inches long even when soft. Add in a ballsack as big as a baseball, and you’ve got a seriously unwieldy package.
Now, I should mention that even though I don’t know why I’m growing, I have to assume it’s magic. There’s no natural reason I could be growing this large or at this stage in my life, and also I don’t have a team of doctors obsessively trying to figure me out. No one seems to see my size as more than a novelty or an inconvenience, which I guess is nice. At least I’m not labeled as a freak or a medical mystery. Hell, if other people saw my cock the same way I do, I wouldn’t be allowed in public places.
In my eyes, by the time I was over a foot long, I was obscene. My bulge was enormous, and it was getting increasingly difficult not to get hard at the slightest provocation. That’s around the time that I became convinced that my condition was magic. My friends started joking about my hair-trigger erections as if it were totally normal. When I did get hard, I’d have to undo my belt and pull my dick up so that it stood straight up under my shirt. No one seemed to think that was weird or lewd.
You’d think the magical protection against people freaking out about my giant boner would be good, right? But I still knew it was weird. There I’d be, at work or at the bar with my friends, and I’d have a massive hard-on under my shirt, rising nearly to my chest. And it’s not like people didn’t notice it, they just didn’t mind. They sure as hell paid attention, though. My friends would rag on me, trying to guess what hot guy at the bar had awoken the monster. Sometimes, people would even give it a friendly pat, and it would dribble pre all over my shirt.
Things weren’t much better when I managed to keep it soft. My bulge would strain my underwear and my pants, and guys would stare lustfully at my package. But the worst thing was that I knew I was still growing. By that point, I was a recent college grad in my early 20s, and I was beginning to fear I might never stop growing.
By my mid-20s, I knew my fears were well founded. If anything, my dick was growing faster. Look, I know what you’re thinking. What’s so bad about a rapidly growing cock? With or without being able to top, the orgasms would have to be insane. And yes, you’re right about that. When your dick is close to two feet long and your balls are as big as oranges, you shoot massive wads and get a huge rush of pleasure every time. But you also need release several times a day. Can you imagine getting blue balls after just eight or nine hours? Especially when your balls are that huge?
And let’s not forget that everyone knew of and accepted my predicament. Somehow that just made it worse. Guys that I considered friends or acquaintances would get this look of concern on their faces and ask if I needed them to jerk me off. At first, I always said no. But at some point, the offer just sounded too good to pass up. It felt so good, but it was weird too.
Oh, and I haven’t even talked about mobility yet. Remember those orange-sized balls I mentioned? Now add in a cock that’s a little over a foot long soft. Thankfully my workplace had no issue adjusting the dress code for me so that I could wear sweatpants or athletic shorts depending on the weather. Under that, I would wear very large, ultra-stretchy underwear and hope I didn’t get hard too quickly. I would practically waddle around, my huge package leading the way.
And then, when I did get hard, things got infinitely worse. When your hard cock is exactly the length of your torso, the tip will always be visible behind the collar, no matter what type of shirt you wear. I had to come to terms with regularly being exposed in public.
Okay, so no one called it indecent exposure, but it sure didn’t feel decent to me. Once I started getting hard, I had no choice but to stick my massive rod up under my shirt, and then the tip would just be there, totally exposed, right in front of my neck. And I knew it was still growing.
Fuck. Oh fuck. Okay, so another thing that’s annoying about my gigantic cock is how I get a one track mind once I start thinking too hard about it. See, it hasn’t just increased my libido, it’s become central to my sexuality. So when I think back to how embarrassed I used to get when I was first getting used to being exposed… Hot damn. It just makes me so fucking horny.
I wish I could still feel embarrassment at the thought of being exposed in public, but all I feel now is lust for my own monolithic prick. Shit. I’m gonna have to cum before I can keep writing. Can’t even fucking think straight.
Okay, so this is what I mean when I talk about downsides. I can’t even write without turning myself on. No, not just turning myself on. Getting so intensely, urgently hard that I absolutely have to drop what I’m doing and take care of it. Or rather, get someone else to take care of it, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
When my hard cock barely came up to my neck, it was still easy enough to take care of myself. He’ll, it was easier than ever. I may be focused on the downsides, but I won’t pretend that sucking myself off wasn’t pretty amazing. It was so wide by that point that I could barely fit my lips around the tip, but I was not going to miss out on that opportunity. No need for stretching or flexibility. I just had to tilt my chin down and hunch my shoulders, and there it was.
But the growth just didn’t stop. I knew that before long, I’d be too big for blowjobs, from myself or anyone else. That had become one of my favorite methods of getting off, and I hated having to let it go. See? Not being able to fuck someone was annoying, but being too big to get sucked off really… sucked.
At some point, I got too big for underwear. With grapefruit balls and a 16-inch snake in my pants, what type of underwear could even begin to contain me? And so I graduated to a new level of embarrassment. I pretty much couldn’t wear anything except athletic shorts, even when I was interviewing for a promotion at work. And then my massive balls still stretched out the front, and my cock was exactly as long as the leg of my shorts.
So whenever I sat down, my cockhead would just be poking right out of my shorts, and people would just look at it. No disgust, no lustful drooling, just casually acknowledging it, as if it were another person in the room. And then I’d inevitably get turned on. No matter how much I hated the attention, I also found it equally arousing. And just like how underwear could no longer contain me, shirts could no longer hold my boner.
What do you do when your boner comes up to your face and is thicker than a 2-liter bottle? Apparently you just let it rise up in front of you, and you lean around it to look people in the eye when you’re talking to them. It was one thing to have my cock huge and always noticeable. It was another to find that people didn’t mind seeing it peek out in public. Buy having my whole, hard megacock on display? That was something else entirely.
A real shift happened when my dick became too big to hide. Okay, when it was poking out of my collar, that wasn’t exactly hiding, but at least there was some fabric covering it. I could pretend I was being discreet. I could pretend I was a normal human being. But once my mega-boner was forced out into the open, my very sexuality was thrust front and center in my life. It became central to my appearance and my personality.
Sometimes my friends would act surprised when I wasn’t hard. And when I did have a stiffy, they’d casually touch it and push it aside so they could see my face. They’d joke about how it was in the way and we should do something to get rid of it. All our conversations seemed to revolve around my dick.
And damn if that didn’t make me hornier than ever. Speaking of… I’m dripping pre again just writing this. God, I hate being so huge, but I love it too. When I cum, it’s gonna… god, it’s gonna feel so good.
I cum so often now. So many times a day. Considering how horny this subject matter makes me, I’m kind of impressed with myself for lasting that long before needing to get off again. Damn, just typing that sentence is making my dick twitch. I get off on getting off. That’s how messed up this is. The very idea of turning myself on and needing to get off a dozen times a day turns me on even more.
Okay, so where was I? Oh, yeah. This right here? That’s an example of what I mean about my dick becoming central to my personality. It’s not just how others treat me. When my hard cock started rising up past the top of my head, I started joining in on the jokes about it getting in the way. While I was mortified on the inside, I started laughing about how my cockhead was bigger than my brain. I couldn’t help myself.
And I never did stop growing. Eventually, I had to let go of anything to cover my bottom half, except the occasional kilt for a formal event. At first, I was nervous about having my ass out, but when you’re a walking, talking sex tool, people don’t even notice a bare butt. I still wore shirts out of some misplaced sense of decency, but I knew no one would actually care if I went around completely nude.
Oh god, I’m getting hard again already. The more I acknowledge the truth… when I say things like ‘walking, talking sex tool,’ it scares me and turns me on so bad. Because that’s the reality, isn’t it? My cock, my sexuality is becoming the center of my existence. I’m still growing, and it’s consuming me, and I love it. Oh god, I love it so much.
Shit. I need to wrap this up, or I’ll just be cumming all day. Fuck. If I keep thinking like that, I definitely won’t be able to concentrate enough to write. Okay, so I got to the point where normal life was almost out of reach. I had a pair of balls that were the size of small melons, and my cock hung down well past my knees. I had a hair trigger boner, and then I’d have a rod as thick as my thigh blocking my face.
My friends and coworkers were always available to help me get off since I was much too large to easily do it myself. They were always offering to help, or increasingly, I was begging for it. My dick would get in the way when I was doing basic things like cooking, driving, or showering. My supposedly straight friends were always eager to assist, but a gay coworker convinced me to move in with him and his boyfriend.
They were both hot and in their mid-20s, while I had recently passed 30. They insisted I didn’t look it, and I think they were right. I don’t know if it’s related to the megacock, but I haven’t visibly aged very quickly as an adult. Anyway, I had to accept that I needed help, and they were more than happy to assist in any way necessary.
Sometimes I get scared that soon I won’t even be a walking, talking sex tool. I’ll be a sitting, moaning sex tool. My soft cock literally looks like a third leg now. It hangs almost down to my ankles. It’s so huge and heavy that it really discourages me from getting up and walking around. And my ballsack is stretched tight around what might as well be a pair of soccer balls. When I’m hard, I have to recline or lay down, and my dick dwarfs the rest of me.
My roommates have to rub their whole body against my pole to get me off. I had to quit my job. They make enough to support the three of us, but since they both work full time, I basically have to have a babysitter to take care of me when my horniness takes over. I already feel like I’m more sex tool than man. And the very worst part? The thing I hate the most about my gradual transformation?
I love it.
I get turned on so much thinking about how I’m helpless to my hormones and my gigantic cock. I look forward to getting bigger and losing myself even more. I want to be a cum fountain with men using and worshiping my cock. I hate how much I enjoy this. But damn if my next load isn’t going to be the biggest one of the day so far.
I don’t know if I’ll ever stop growing, and a growing—pardon the pun—part of me doesn’t care. I want it. I need it. Already, my friends come around and just talk about when the geyser’s gonna blow, and they get naked and take care of me. I miss my normal life, but would I really give this away if I could? Nah. Never. It’s been inconvenient for a long time, and it’s taking away pieces of my very humanity, but it’s hotter than anything I could ever imagine. Fuck. Time to go. A couple of my boys are checking on me. They know it’s time. And it’s gonna be explosive.
2,883 words Added Jan 2024 6,409 views 4.8 stars (19 votes)
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