Control panel

by BRK   

Darryl and Jonas’s cute, up-to-date new home has a unique bit of climate-control technology—as in, what’s being controlled is the climate in their pants.

My fiancé is rakishly handsome, effortlessly charismatic, and most of all impishly mischievous. His roguish wink and devious grin kind of heightens your adrenaline and draws you in at the same time. (It’s how I was hooked—but his courting and conquest of this boring corporate comptroller is another story altogether.) Suffice to say, Darryl is always up to something, and the way he lights up and fills with energy when a plan starts to form in his noggin is all kinds of sexy.

We’ve been together long enough that I usually have an inkling of whatever playful spark of inspiration has hit him. When we finally moved house to our new-built vivid-pastel dream bungalow in the trendy, palm-tree-wafting, sun-soaked suburban gayborhood of San Sebastián and quickly learned our new adobe abode was (a) perfect for parties and (b) pre-equipped with a certain brand of smart-house tech that was notorious for inducing, under certain circumstances, a low-but-significant level of male arousal, I immediately knew to turn to him in time to see that glint in his gold-green eyes and that patented, slow-spreading wicked smile. Before we were even fully moved in he was digging into the specs and secret forums on his phone with one hand and noodling on the fussy-looking control panel screen in the kitchen with the other, eager to unlock this accidental, deprecated, totally debunked “feature” so he could spring it on a houseful of happy, humpy himbos—starting with the housewarming party he’d already set for two nights ahead and sent out a scad of evites to. Honestly, I was so turned on just watching him work, all excited and irrepressible, that as soon as the movers were done and gone I yanked him back to the bedroom and our bare king-sized mattress, threw him down, and drilled his laughing ass with considerable gusto.

After that we worked late, unearthing the short-term necessities and getting the major furniture and a few objets-d’art just so. When we finally fell into our favorite dark blue sheets, the house’s climate control having cooled the place to exactly the right level of comfort on a warm summer’s night, we were ready for a long night of cozy, cuddly conked-out-ness.

The next morning, I woke up to things being… not quite right. For one thing, I was humping Darryl’s ass-crack with my curved, adamantium-hard prick—not a normal thing for me. I was not a sex in the morning kind of guy, being more prone to playful, insistent afternoon fucking and slow, sultry sunset lovemaking—but today I wasn’t just randy, I was desperate for it, my precum-slick dick sawing at Darryl’s butt-cleavage like that was how you got off in this universe. My skin was hot despite the air conditioning and a night of supposed torpor. Tiny beads of sweat were forming on my shoulders and slipping down my spine into the sheets. Worst of all, I could barely think straight, my mental processes shrouded in a heavy haze of intense lust and arousal. I was fixated on the beautiful, well-built example of masculinity asleep in my arms and mad with the pleasure of simple contact of arms and torsos, toes and heels, and especially rigid dick and deep, inviting glute-crack.

“Duuude, wake up,” I groaned in his ear. My humping was starting to feel disturbingly automatic and autonomous. “Duuude.”

“Mmm?” Darryl hummed. He was always slower to wake than I was.

“Duuude,” I repeated. It finally registered that his skin felt hot, too. “What did you do? Are you horny? I’m so horny.”

He shuffled around under the covers to face me, and it was clear from the raging, leaky stiffness of his ten-inch club that he was, indeed, feeling the same effects I was. Without invitation or permission, our cocks started frotting energetically. Darryl smiled against my lips. “Feels nice,” he murmured.

“Dude,” I moaned, my cock sawing against his. I fumbled for words, the miasma of hot, urgent arousal drowning everything else in my mind. “What did you do with the… the… boner controls? Did you, like, turn it up to ten and leave it on all night?”

Darryl’s smile widened. “I didn’t mean to,” he said playfully. He didn’t sound like he minded, drawing me in closer so our cocks were now pushing against our damp, precum-smeared lower abs.

I looked into his gold-green eyes. Even this close I could see they were dark with arousal. “You always mean to,” I said, my lips brushing against his as we ground together.

He kissed me, just a little tease of a kiss, and even this pleasure was magnified, sending shivers through me. “Not this time, honest,” he said, though he smiled as he said it. “Must be a glitch.”

“Duuude,” I repeated. I couldn’t process much with my brain in the state that it was in, except that my body kept telling me this feverish need felt solid, steady, and alarmingly insatiable, as though it were the product of constant external stimulation. A flush of heat spread through me, maybe at the idea of not being fully in control of my lust. I gave him a tease-kiss of my own and slid my lips to his ear. “Dude, does it—” I panted. “—wear off, or—?” Another pant against his ear, eliciting a soft moan from the man holding me and humping me hard. I gasped. “I got stuff today…”

“I thought you were off until Tuesday,” Darryl purred.

“I am, except... I got a video meeting with the CFO at 11,” I breathed. He licked my ear, my back arched with what felt almost like a mini-orgasm—a down-payment on what was to come. “Dude, I can’t do it… like… this!”

I was already close, and when Darryl answered softly against my ear a saucy “Let’s see if cumming helps,” I immediately had pull my mouth right back onto his while the pistoning of our cocks went into overdrive. Within a handful of pounding heartbeats we were cumming hard and messy all over our chests and bellies as we tried to gasp in breaths and kiss feverishly at the same time. When we came down from the climax, we were huffing at each other, red-faced and sweating and still impossibly, implacably hard, sex-hazed, and hungry for the euphoric release we’d literally just experienced.

“Fuck,” we breathed—only Darryl was grinning as he said it, the imp.

We found our way to the shower, which quickly threatened to devolve into more time-consuming pleasure and pleasuring, especially given the way our spacious new shower produced a fine misty flow that, combined with our mental states and the soft shade of green the tiles were in, made us feel like primal men deep in the jungle at the dawn of time. With some assertion of will-power, I freed myself of Darryl’s eddy-like pull long enough to dry off, pull on jeans (which my relentless, protruding erection converted into a mockery of decorum), and insist my future husband call the repair guy for the stiffy-inducing home system.

“I can fix it myself,” Darryl said from the shower where he was still languidly soaping himself under the soft antediluvian spray.

But I had his number. The way things went for my man, even a bona fide attempt would more likely lead to magnification of the catastrophe rather than resolution. “Call the repair guy,” I insisted fondly. I was trying to be firm, which Darryl liked generally. I think my sex-stern tone mostly just turned him on more, judging from the downward movement of the soap behind the frosted glass.

Darryl called the repair guy. It would be hours before he came—lots of trouble in smart-home-land, apparently. I got through my meeting, though I don’t know how exactly as my chief memory of it was just barely remembering to put on a shirt seconds before it started, and the odd looks I was getting during the run-time presentations from some of the participants in their little windows. Oh, and Josh from the Atlanta office was sitting just far enough back from the camera to more than hint at the extent to which he knew his way around a bench press. Other than that, the only take-away from the meeting that stayed with me was that yes, even after eight years a lover can still induce a kind of lush, low-key terror into your daily life, given a man who, say, liked to wear red, Swiss-flag Speedos when he was stuck with a massive, stone-hard all-day erection thanks to a equipment function causing a heightened, unstoppable libido and who was known to jimmy the occasional locked door meant to shield one’s video conference call with the stodgy financial executives from any flamboyant Speedo-boner shenanigans.

We made an attempt at going on with our day while we waited, but our urgent preoccupation with sex and our own constant state of dripping arousal ruthlessly subordinated all attempts at activity and normalcy. Our complementary demeanors, him playful and me serious, seemed only to magnify the effect. After my meeting we tried eating lunch, but that quickly turned into me sitting on Darryl’s lap, licking peanut butter from the roof of his mouth. Doing laundry together seemed like a viable distraction, but in the state we were in our plain little laundry room felt like a sultry concrete mini-bunker excluded from reality, exempting us from all cares and responsibilities (of which there were none in this lemon-walled post-apocalyptic cell), and soon Darryl was sitting on the rumbling dryer while I tried to feel its vibrations through him with my tongue.

We were in the living room and just about at the point where we’d give into the need to fuck for real, even if we never stopped, when the doorbell finally rang. It was Craig, our sandy-haired, porn-’stached service rep. We must have been quite a sight greeting him at the front door, both of us not only visibly erect (I was back down to jeans only seconds after my meeting, and Darryl was still sporting a red banana hammock that was not designed to accommodate his present condition) but no doubt acting like we were under the influence of… something. Which were were, I guess, and he was there to fix it.

Nonetheless, despite that being his job, Craig paused before entering our new home, temporarily a den of iniquity, and eyed us with a smirk and a cocked brow. “You fellas sure you want me to come in?” he asked.

We looked him over. He was good looking in a stock-photo ordinary guy kind of way—medium height, nice smile, trim and nicely proportioned, not that his blue company uniform was doing him many favors. I was weirdly certain that if he were to do a 360 right now we’d have confirmation he had a very nice butt. “We’re sure,” Darryl said in unison, and Craig chuckled as he followed us in.

The presence of another man in the house only set us off more, though because we couldn’t actually fuck (which would be rude) but couldn’t climb down from our soaring, pressing state of arousal or clear our minds to think at all cogently, we found ourselves in a sort of limbo of hungrily making out in the dining room while trying feebly to ignore our screaming, butt-hungry dicks and the hot, and evidently game, blue-collar porn cliché working on our equipment in the kitchen.

It was only after a full hour of this erotic purgatory than Craig emerged from the kitchen, a very obvious pipe-shaped bulge distorting his blue work pants along the hip, “So your effect, which my company in no way acknowledges or accepts liability for…” he began, pausing wryly the make sure we understood. We nodded. “…your accidental, entirely disavowed effect is, I’m sorry to say, stuck on max. Now that is fixable, but it involves altering your system slightly.”

We came together in a little circle, standing probably a little closer than most people did with their in-home service techs. “How so?” Darryl and I asked.

“We need to install what you call a diverter,” he said. “It’s basically an A/B switch that governs whether the effect is off… or on.”

Darryl and I looked at each other. This was both unexpected and almost ridiculously ideal. “That’s great,” Darryl told him.

“Is there a ‘but’?” I suggested. Of course, that got me and my boner thinking about the repair guy’s very cute butt, the confirmation of which had been achieved mere seconds into his visit.

“There is a ‘but’,” Craig said, giving me a knowing look. He added, “The part you need… is temporarily out of stock. It’ll be a good week before I’ll be able to, er, stick it in there.”

I turned to look at Darryl, and fuck if his eyes weren’t glinting again. “Maybe we should call off—” I started to say, but he cut me off.

“Hell no,” Darryl said, grinning. That housewarming party was going to happen, malfunctioning erection inducers be damned. And… maybe it was the nonstop boner rays, maybe it was my love for my prank-loving fiancé, but I was kind of into this idea myself. We had to be good gaybors, right?

We were standing closer to Craig than I thought, our heavy, relentless hard-ons almost brushing. Some memory of hospitality made me think it would be crude to turn this handsome fellow out of our home without a bit of hospitality. I met Darryl’s dark, gold-green gaze, and he was definitely thinking just as much about friendliness and the proper forms as I was.

I turned to smile at our guest. “So, Craig, can I offer you an… iced tea or anything?” I said.

Craig’s smile grow wide and saucy. “Absofuckinglutely,” he said.

The housewarming party lived up to all of Darryl’s mischievous expectations and then some. Long story short, Darryl and I made some very… intimate acquaintances that night. Maybe the new neighbors got a somewhat distorted first impression, but, to be honest, “cute, sex-obsessed couple so hot for dick their oversaturated horniness seems to infect everyone around them” isn’t that inaccurate, these days.

Sex is good, after all. Horniness is good. So much is self-evident. The issue with our extreme level of deep, constant carnal excitement was that we couldn’t turn it off—literally. As long as we were home—and we mostly were, seeing as Darryl was a trust fund philanthropist and my comptroller job was remote four days a week—the two of us were subjected to nonstop, amp-on-11 slow-burn lust day in and day out. Even asleep. This new normal was thanks to Darryl’s devious tinkering having stuck our high-tech smart house’s secret, disavowed, super-effective arousal field permanently set to “max” 24/7. The only solution for the problem of our malfunctioning, fully-repudiated, hidden and locked-off lewdify feature, according to our sexy, in-the-know local smart-home repair guy, was a very basic on/off switch… and that, it seemed, was on backorder.

We were stuck, so we made the best of it, as you can imagine. The part came in, got installed, and then came the real jolt. After a solid week spent stewing in nonstop, extreme, mind-melting randiness, it was a real shock to finally depower the constant flood of boner rays and suddenly not be experiencing all that rich, sweet, beautiful need. It was kind of like getting addicted to freezing-cold air conditioning that’s on all the time. As soon as you turn it off or step outside, suddenly a perfectly nice seventy-degree spring afternoon feels like you’re inside a hot oven and someone’s really trying to brown that turkey.

We decided to try keeping the lechery beam set to full as long as we weren’t trying to get any actual work done. Mostly that was about me being able to concentrate while I was working from home. Darryl, multitalented rogue that he was, might be able to manage a gay-rights charity naked and boned with a sex-drowned brain and one hand busy pistoning up and down my curved adamantium dick while he was changing the world with the other. He might even relish it. For me, pivot tables and cost-benefit consolidations were ten times more difficult to sort through with a jacked-up pulse and a dick begging to wreck me end to end as it blasted its load someplace dark and tight over and over again.

Fortunately, I was damned good at my job and could finish most of my tasks by noon while the naturally louche Darryl slept in. That left us the rest of the day free to wallow in boner rays to our hearts’ content, all while fucking, eating, working out like beasts, and enjoying the hell out of each other—and any of our new friends that happened to stop by to help us expend our seemingly fathomless carnal energy. Eric, the lanky 6-foot-6 personal trainer to our left, was particularly… amenable. It was only a few days after the party before our blond, hairy, zero-body-fat quipster hunk of a neighbor was appearing in our kitchen, and thence our bedroom, most afternoons with the kind of frequency normally reserved for talky sitcom BFFs. Not that Eric was that loquacious by nature, and usually his mouth was busy anyway.

It wasn’t long before I realized that, under those sorts of circumstances, I actually enjoyed flipping the arousal field off in the mornings and firing up my work VPN to get all the reports done and all the emails replied to and all the numbers definitively and decidedly crunched as quickly and diligently as possible. It was like I was challenging myself on a timer the way I did on my crossword app, striving to see how quickly I could plow through my corporate responsibilities before I could jump up, run to the kitchen, flick the switch, and feel myself become an instant roué—the panting, insatiable, rock-hard version of Jonas no one outside of our vividly semiglossed gayborhood even knew existed.

It was a rush every time, my big cock snapping to full erection like arousal was its natural state, my blood rushing faster and turning magma-hot before I’d even had a chance to crack a smile and go in search of my eager, equally insta-debauchified fiancé.

So, no, I didn’t mind the daily switch-off periods four times a week. What I wasn’t looking forward to was my first non-remote, in-office day after the big transition. What with the move and the settling in I’d managed to put it off a couple of weeks, but that only meant that I was that much more conditioned to constant, barely contained arousal when the Friday in question finally rolled around.

I kissed Darryl longingly at the door, his characteristically impish smirk as we broke apart only making me that much more wistful as I carried my travel mug out to the Camry Hybrid and got in, my stomach twisting with dread as I faced the cold-turkey day of libidinous normalcy ahead.

I really should have known better.

As I motored down the highway into the city, windows down and radio off, I waited more or less patiently for the ebb in my arousal that never came. At first I thought it was just the lingering effects of that morning’s preemptive and very athletic lovemaking. It was, after all, the kind of scene I would have jerked off to before all this happened, with Darryl drilling me fast and brutal in the shower after I’d taken a long, slow hour driving us both to spectacular orgasm using only my lips, tongue, and cock. It made sense I’d still be turned on, casually reliving it, as the highway unspooled before me on the long, boring drive into the land of glass and steel.

Weirdly, however, by the time I was halfway there my still-raging cock and pounding pulse were sure signs my libido wasn’t receding in the slightest. Driving seemed to require more deliberate concentration than I was used to. I gripped the steering wheel hard with both hands, partly for the nonsexual tactile input and partly to keep them firmly out of trouble. Familiar, prickly heat crawled over my skin, and a drop of sweat formed at my temple, despite the mildness of the beautiful, breezy spring morning air. I was so flushed with warm desire it felt like being filled from an endless hot spring, constantly renewed and inescapable in every part of me.

It was like that the whole commute, and I kept waiting in vain for the arousal to finally wear off. When I took my exit, my eyes happened to get stuck on a guy driving a classic drop-top just ahead of me in the next lane, his broad, tanned shoulders and a skimpy pink tank top standing out to me like a beacon. As we approached the stop light at the end of the ramp I remembered my brakes barely a half second before the proximity alarm politely warned me about the Lexus I was risking a fender-bender with that was already stopped ahead of me.

I braked with an erk, a little too firmly. “Duuude,” I chastised myself in a shocked whisper as the car settled, squeezing the wheel even tighter. My heart was pounding in my ears, but I still found my gaze sliding helplessly over to the pleasantly sculpted, sun-bronzed shoulders in the blue Mustang convertible. I stared at him because I had to, and because my cock demanded it. He seemed to feel my gaze on him, too, or something, because as I watched him he started to turn his head in my direction…

Then the light changed. Someone honked, and with a considerable expenditure of willpower I turned my attention resolutely back to the road and forced myself to be human for the five remaining minutes it took to get to my building and slide down the maw of the underground parking structure, like a sinner descending to hell.

The parking garage was damp and chilly, but I barely noticed. I was hot and sweaty under my open-collared dress shirt, my inward-curved hard-on still fairly obvious in my dark, loose-fitting pleated trousers. I got in the elevator and punched 35 in a confused daze. The elevator car seemed hot, but that was probably me.

I had the lift to myself for exactly one floor. At the main ground floor lobby two people boarded. One was a pretty middle-aged woman with big red hair in a smart pinstriped skirt and jacket ensemble in dark teal. She worked in marketing on 37, I knew that, and I was pretty sure her name was Bonnie. I wouldn’t have bet more than five bucks on it.

As soon as my gaze drifted to her companion, my temperature went up at least five degrees. He was a good half a foot shorter than my 6-foot-1, with close-cropped black hair that had been artfully styled with a dab of product and a jawline you could cut glass on. His tailored suit was like a map to all the places he spent time hardening and honing at the gym, and despite it being mostly hidden by the tails of his jacket I could tell by the fit of his slacks that he had the roundest, perkiest butt this side of my gorgeously perfect fiancé. In my advanced state of extreme arousal I could smell his natural scent like a drug, and was halfway to being able to guess what his mouth and tongue would taste like.

In spite of the presence of a third party in the rising elevator car I had to clench my fists at my side, lest they reach out to find out just how right I was about this dreamboat’s outstanding ass. I concentrated instead on trying to make my breathing sound normal and regular as my sexual animus became gradually more and more consumed with want for this beautiful stranger.

At first, the man—Maybe-Bonnie called him “Cal,” which in that moment I would have ranked in the top five sexiest first names in history—seemed not to even notice me, pursuing an intense conversation with the redheaded woman about… something, I don’t know… that must have started in the lobby. By floor 6, however, I was conscious of his increasing awareness of me. His side of the conversation lagged, and I was sure I caught him trying to look at me sidelong without turning his head. His wide, tapered back seemed to stiffen in some kind of physical response.

At floor 15 he nonchalantly shifted on his feet in a way that just happened to turn him a little more toward me. I didn’t mind—this gave me a look at the firm swimmer’s pecs that subtly pushed out his white cotton dress shirt, such that the navy and red striped tie and jacket lapels ended framing one of his best Men’s Love Magazine Ten Sexy Spots to Service with Hands and Tongue (one of the more formative and useful instruction manuals of my youth).

I glanced up guiltily and met his gaze, and I was instantly drowning in almost-orgasmic arousal at the fierce beauty of his riveting brown eyes. I was panting, as much as I tried not to. If I had even been able to see Maybe-Bonnie I probably would have been mortified by whatever expression she was making as she looked between us, but my vision was focused on Cal’s intense, heart-skewering eyes—and the balance of my sensory apparatus was trying to drink the rest of him in through his sheer physical presence.

He smiled. It was a sweet, tentative smile, and it was a revelation. Suddenly I was about to cum. There was no holding it back. I was going to blow a huge load right here in the car, in front of two perfect strangers!

Just then the elevator dinged and the doors trundled open onto my floor. With a silent apology, I shot out of the car, sweeping past Cal and Maybe-Bonnie and racing for the single-user bathroom off the floor lobby. Thankfully the thing was unoccupied—otherwise my life would have been over. As it was I barely got my zipper down and my cock out before I was cumming all over the sink. A few stray shots made it onto the mirror before I pushed down even harder on my adamantium dick, annoyed for the first time ever at the sexily demure upward curve that was currently making my life just that little bit more difficult.

When it was done I leaned on my hands on either side of the sink, gasping, and tried to gather myself together. What was going on? I’d left home and was miles outside the range of my smarthome’s boner rays, yet here I was, just as wanton and red-zone horny as I’d be if I were standing in the middle of my scarily tech-advanced new bungalow. What the hell? Cumming hadn’t even helped—in fact it had barely taken the edge off. Not only was I still rock hard, I could probably climax again with a little mental imaging and a few strokes of my practiced fist. (Both Darryl and I had refractory times in the single digits now, as if the software were keen to produce as much human spunk as possible and was gradually tinkering with us to make that a reality. Not that Darryl had ever been slow to cum, but, yeah.)

And—had Cal been affected? Maybe he smelled my pheromones or just felt me looking at him, but it was almost like he was getting turned on despite himself just from standing next to me. And the guy in the Mustang—had he sensed me somehow? Was I so fucking horny I was actually radiating sex in literal waves, like ripples in a pond?

Thankfully the single-occupancy johns in this building all still had traditional Z-fold paper towel dispensers (the bigger restrooms had state-of-the-art hand dryers that everyone hated), so I was able to mop up my stray ropes of cum and wash it all down as best I could. Tucking away my still-indomitable erection, I made myself marginally presentable and speedwalked to my office, closing the door and ignoring the puzzled greetings of my team. The interior walls of my corner office were glass from the waist up, but I was able to hastily close the blinds on the frowns and confused looks being exchanged out in the financial affairs bullpen.

“Fuck,” I muttered as I sealed myself in. Imagine if I hadn’t gotten that promotion six months ago—I’d be out there in the open-plan office area, trying to deal with this over-the-top arousal surrounded by concerned and friendly colleagues. What a nightmare! I couldn’t picture lasting ten minutes before being forced to flee the building in a sex-crazed panic, screaming behind me some excuse about having contracted mono, or maybe schistosomiasis.

Sitting on the front edge of my desk I pulled out my phone, intending to text Darryl and maybe ask his advice on figuring out what was going on. As I unlocked the screen, however, I noticed my battery was already down to 87%. The hell? I’d left the house with it fully charged, like always. What was draining the juice that fast?

All at once, I knew. “That fucker!” I laughed, my raging hard-on squeezing as I thought of my sexy, perfectly chiseled troublemaker of a fiancé. I paged through my home screen icons. Sure enough, the app for our smarthome system was now installed on my phone and was, according to the control panel stats, taking up the lion’s share of the power and memory in use. If there was some kind of physical emitter involved, that would explain everything—not only my continued arousal but Cal’s and Mustang Guy’s reactions, too. I hadn’t left the smarthome arousal field behind—I’d brought the damn thing with me. To work!

As I dug through the app I found a real-time map. It showed two radiating zones of activity: a big one at our bungalow in San Sebastián, and a little one pinned to my exact current location: 145 Center Street Tower, 35th floor.

“Duuude,” I muttered.

I turned my phone over, but there was nothing attached to the case or otherwise anomalous. Turning it face up again, I pulled up the messaging app. “Dude where’s the emitter?”

Almost instantly, the response came back. “I’ll never tell!” This was followed by a winky face.

“You fucking fucker,” I typed. I had to make a couple of tries at this, because the autocorrect kept trying to change the fucks to ducks, and as it was I was already incredibly distracted thinking about shoving my steel-hard cock exactly where it belonged—up Darryl’s extremely tight ass.

“Have fun!” Darryl instructed, this time with a devil face. This was soon joined by three eggplants, each accompanied by the droplets emoji.

I was shaking my head at my fiancé’s crudeness and innate lack of subtlety when a knock sounded at my door. I glanced up suspiciously. My team knew not to bother me if the blinds were drawn, so either it was a real emergency, or…

“Come!” I called.

The door opened just enough for Cal to slip in with a sheepish expression. My breath caught at the sight of him. He closed the door behind him and, seemingly instinctively, turned the deadbolt for good measure. He barely seemed to notice he was doing it—his full attention was on me.

“I had to see you,” he said. His cheeks were visibly pink with arousal as he got closer to me, and as we closed the distance between us like magnets I could see that his pupils were already blown. “I don’t know why—” he whispered, but before we could say anything else we were kissing hungrily.

That’s why, I thought. Fuck, he really did taste amazing.

I wrapped my arms tightly around him, feeling every curve and swell of his hard, muscular body through his suit as if it weren’t there, from his round bubble butt to his firm, square shoulders. I was already so close to cumming, and that was before he shoved his groin against mine and I felt the red-hot press of his long, fat cock against my hip.

We broke the kiss, and for a moment the two of us stared into each other’s eyes, holding each other hard, shuddering with desperate, dammed-in need. Our ragged breaths gusted across each other’s lips, which, let me just say, is my favorite thing about kissing apart from the actual kissing itself.

I smiled lightly, feeling the heat in my core ratcheting to dangerous levels, and this time he was the one who reacted to my smile, with a physical shudder of pleasure.

I visually checked all of the blinds and the door lock one more time, then smiled a little wider at my new portable-smarthome-boner-ray conquest. This was going to be interesting. “So, Cal,” I said, my voice sounding low and husky in my ears, “I have a feeling this is going to be a short workday for both of us. Ever been to the suburbs?”

Cal smirked very sexily, and the orgasm I fought down at that only had to wait a scant few minutes before its spectacular release, quickly followed by cummy kisses as we languidly began the heated cycle of arousal and climax all over again.

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The river god by BRK and Rock Creek Werewolf Forced into a long sleep for cultivating the love and lust of male human servants, a river god awakes in the modern world and finds a new familiar through whom to channel his improvements and feed his desire for male carnal pleasure. 5 parts 28k words Added Jun 2024 Updated 31 Aug 2024 11k views 5.0 stars (10 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Ball Growth•Huge Cock•Public Orgasm•Replication•Other Mental Changes•Straight to Gay•Muscle Growth•Muscle Worship•Public Nudity•Increased Libido•Getting Handsomer•Transformation•Getting Taller•Giants•Plausible Size Difference•Size Increase•Age Regression•Incest•Father/Son•Nonconsensual change•Pagan gods•Complete •M/M•M/M/M/...

Peoplechange by BRK Frankie’s ancestral world-changing ability, which he didn’t even know he was getting, mixes unpredictably with his friend Aaron’s new interest in hypnosis. 3,938 words Added Aug 2023 7,478 views 4.9 stars (12 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Huge Balls•Ball Growth•Huge Cock•Hyper Cum•Multi-abs•Muscle Growth•Increased Libido•Getting Handsomer•Getting Taller•Plausible Size Difference•Size Increase•Tongue Growth•Retcon•Hypnosis •M/M

One hot summer by BRK Brandon and Eddie enjoy working for their pot-loving boss, Mike, at the pizza place near campus and are bummed they can’t stick around for the summer, too. Mike offers them a possible solution, though he doesn’t let them in on all his plans for the coming summer. 54 parts 119k words (#17) Added Jun 2019 Updated 25 Jun 2022 77k views 4.9 stars (54 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Huge Cock•Self-suck•Replication•Other Mental Changes•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Always Shirtless•Increased Libido•Gradual Change•Voice Deepening•Getting Taller•Giants•Plausible Size Difference•Size Decrease•Size Increase•Hair Growth/Getting Hairy•Incest•Brothers•Twins•Selfcest•Nonconsensual change•Body Swap•Shared Body•Fourth of July•Gay Pride•Complete•Cannabis •M•M/M•M/M/M•M/M/M/...

Mountainheart by BRK It’s 1999, and Glenn, until now kept from his heritage, uncovers what it means to be a Sheridan. Fortunately, he has his closest friend, Eamon, at his side. 13 parts 67k words (#49) Added Nov 2021 Updated 18 Nov 2023 25k views 4.9 stars (28 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Huge Cock•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Always Shirtless•Increased Libido•Gradual Change•Getting Taller•Plausible Size Difference•Size Increase•Age Regression•Hair Growth/Getting Hairy•Age Difference•First Time/Virgin•Incest•Brothers•Father/Son•Anthro/Furry•Werebears•Werewolves•Supernatural•Shapeshifting•Complete•Alcohol •M/M

Frat crisis by BRK Jacob returns to his frat after a week away to find it stinking of sex and full of guys a lot bigger than he remembered them being. 2 parts 5,217 words Added Jun 2022 Updated 2 Dec 2023 23k views 4.8 stars (35 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Huge Cock•Hyper Cum•Straight to Gay•Pec Fucking•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Increased Libido•Getting Handsomer•Gradual Change•Voice Deepening•Hair Growth/Getting Hairy•Nonconsensual change•Infectious•Complete •M/M•M/M/M•M/M/M/...

Threefer: Wes by BRK Being around not one but two lovers transformed by the strange cock-growth drug DX3, Wes can’t but wonder what would happen if he took some, too. 3,067 words Added Apr 2022 5,319 views 4.8 stars (4 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Cock•Nipcocks•Nipple Emissions•Increased Libido•Mouthcock•Complete •M/M•M/M/M/...

Milo’s big secret by BRK For small-town boy Milo the growth that came with puberty never ended. He kept growing and growing, especially in a certain area, and now at 19 he’s sure he’s too much of a freak to know any love but his own. What he hasn’t reckoned on is Jeremy, a take-charge type so beautiful there’s no way Milo can hide his secret from him for long. 2 parts 5,841 words Added Jun 2022 17k views 4.7 stars (23 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Huge Cock•Self-suck•Hyper Cum•Muscle Growth•Increased Libido•Gradual Change•Voice Deepening•Getting Taller•Plausible Size Difference•Size Increase•Hair Growth/Getting Hairy•Complete •M/M

Curses and consequences by BRK Reading this story is a bad idea, but you can’t resist now that you know it’s cursed. 1,459 words Added Sep 2021 14k views 4.7 stars (26 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Huge Cock•Self-suck•Always Cumming•Hyper Cum•Multi-abs•Multiarm•Multilimb•Addiction•Increased Libido•Gradual Change•Getting Taller•Retcon•Social Media•Supernatural•Complete