Blooming season

by brazboy   

Heitor is a member of a sexual minority looking for an accommodating place in which to live downtown—hard to do on a budget. Thankfully, Samuel is looking for someone to share the bills with, and is also a member of a different sexual minority which has its own set of challenges. Living together will prove to be more engaging than either of them had in mind.

I was starting to lose out hope—most places that accepted members of minority sexual groups downtown were either extremely expensive, old and shabby, or just plain dirty. Being someone who could pass as an average dude more or less decently, I was hoping I could share an apartment with someone who also looked and behaved mostly normally. Unfortunately, however, I was not the preferred option for a roommate for normal dudes, while most shared apartments which accepted sexual minorities had people who were just too big for any semblance of normalcy in their living arrangements.

I was about to give up on getting a place downtown and start searching for housing farther from the city center, when I saw a post in a social media group.

“Looking for roommate for shared apartment,” said the ad, “72sqm, large living room, close to train and subway stations, parks and stores within 500m walk; nice, large single room available for moving in immediately. Must be male, sexual minority (standard size, not macro), clean and willing to help with all chores. Preferences: age 19-25, university student or recent graduate, straight.” I immediately picked up the number and texted the guy, scheduling a visit for the weekend. He was very soliciting in his response, and, in exchanging messages we soon started talking a little about ourselves—he seemed to be a solid dude who shared many interests with me, and soon I was already depositing a lot of hope into this opportunity which I saw as an almost predestined meeting.

When the day of my visit came, he sent me the specific address and that’s when I saw just how well-located his apartment really was: less than 250 meters from the closest subway station, basically between a park and just one block away from a major commercial street where you could literally buy anything you could ever want. It was just the perfect place to live at, and all of that within my (student) budget—almost too good to be true. Even more so, approaching his building I realized it had recently been renovated and it was looking very nice from the outside—unsurprisingly, by the time he allowed me in I was keen on making a good impression and having him accept me as his roommate, even if I had to kowtow to a rat.

I, for one, just wanted to move in already.

“Hey, name is Samuel,” said the extremely cut and muscular man who answered the door, raising his hand to shake mine, and then eying me up and down, exactly as I eyed him. He was tall, although a bit shorter than me, and even wearing baggy clothes I could see from his arms and shoulders that he was extremely muscular. He was also quite handsome, and had a very large bulge under his pants, although they were big enough to hide a lot down there.

We were both clearly normal-passing, and it was hard to identify exactly, if at all, what were our specific sexual attributes. We were also both using loose clothing, exactly to make doing that even harder, in fact.

“Nice to meet you, Samuel, I’m Heitor. You really have a great place here,” I saw, entering his beautifully illuminated and well decorated living room. It was indeed large and very homely, with a view to the park. He smiled and then nodded as I entered.

“Thanks. This apartment belongs to my family, so I try to keep it in perfect state, you know, like an owner,” he confesses, and then he looks at me, “Sorry to be this blunt, by the way, but I stated in the add that I wanted any applicants to be members of a sexual minority, so, just to be safe… are you?” he said. I blushed a little, as I usually try as much as possible to pass as a normal person—but this was one of those rare situations in which being different was a benefit.

“Yes, I am,” I said and coughed, “and so are you, as I understand?” I asked, and he nodded. It was a little weird to talk about our bodies so openly, even in a private place, when we both are so clearly used to passing as members of the majority and we just met one another.

“So… it’s not that I don’t believe you, but I’m sure you know it’s really hard to rent a decent place, especially in cohabitation, as a sexual minority so… do you mind showing me?” he said, and then patted me on the shoulder, “I am really sorry to ask that of you, and I don’t mean to be invasive, but you’d be shocked if I told you the number of people who have come here and who I had to dismiss at this stage because they had lied about their bodies,” he said, and I nodded.

“Sure, I understand. This place is worth lying for,” I said with a smile and he did smirk back, but not too much as he clearly waited for my final confirmation. I sighed and then I took a step back and pulled off my shirt, revealing at once my thick and generous muscles, and my always-hard 60 centimeters cock lodged—and hidden—in between my meaty pecs, “See?” I say, and he nods.

“Nice. So, you have a log-cock? Sorry for making you show it to me like that, by the way, but I just needed to be sure,” he said, and I nodded, and then smiled back at him, understanding where he was coming from. I was actually more than half glad and relieved about his serious attitude regarding my cock, as it allowed me to just be straightforward about my condition. I also quickly realized that, had he not limited this vacancy to sexual minorities, I’d probably not even be here.

“No, it’s perfectly okay. Should I put my shirt back on or…?” I ask, and he shook his head.

“No need to, you can stay comfortable here, as long as you keep everything nice and clean, you know. I’m not telling you to behave like a macro, but let’s just be ourselves; that’s why I wanted a sexual minority flatmate on the first place, that and because I know what a pain the market is,” he said, smiling, and I sighed in relief and laughed.

“Great!” I said, and then I used my hand to dislodge my cockhead from its prison in between my pecs, allowing it to hoover in front of them and slide against my muscles as it naturally should, “So… what are you, if I may ask?.”

“Oh, me… we are a very small group, you probably don’t haven’t heard about us, most people don’t even know we exist…” he said, smiling apologetically. I laughed.

“Try me, I’m pretty well versed in that stuff,” I responded, and he shrugged.

“Sure… I have a blooming cock,” he said, and I actually thought about it for a while before accepting I had never heard that term before. I then took my phone and googled it, finding search results only in French, Spanish and German—and I don’t speak any of those languages. He laughed at my face when even Wikipedia failed me, “It’s okay, most people don’t know about us, there’s not much information out there. In your application you said you are straight, right? Then it shouldn’t affect you much, if at all. To you it will be like living with a normal dude,” he said, and I nodded.

“Great, I’ll try to make it the same for you then,” I said, and he smiled but waved his hand dismissively.

“Thanks, but as I said, please feel at home here… if you end up moving in, that is,” he said, and laughed, and then put his hand on my shoulder once more—except now, we were both aware that his palm was quite close to my cockhead. “So, let’s start the tour of my sweet home,” he then smiled and said, and proceeded to showing me around the apartment: his room was the master bedroom, and so I’d be paying only 40% of rent, which was a real bargain. My room was smaller and didn’t have a dedicated bathroom, sure, but it had a huge window with a view to the park and, according to Samuel, birds sang there every evening and morning, which was supposed to be quite nice and relaxing. The kitchen was large, well-equipped and well-kept. The social bathroom—which I would be using—was perfectly acceptable and I could easily use it even with my large penis, thanks to its spaciousness.

“So, what do think?” he asked, smiling, after having shown pretty much everything.

“Well… when can I move in?” I joked, and we both laughed, before sitting down and finalizing the terms of our deal. I moved in two days later, on Monday.

The first week was a bit awkward, as we slowly got to know each other. We realized that we both like reading, playing games, drinking coffee, and listening to national music—after noticing that, we had quite a lot to talk about, although living together when you are not really close yet makes most interactions feel a little bit forced. The first week was also a time of many other ‘firsts’—when I’d either ask permission to do something for the first time, or be insecure about doing it until Samuel reminded me that we were living together and he wasn’t there to be my chaperone or anything like that, but my flatmate. Still, I was feeling a bit insecure and so I came to ask him about jacking off arrangements, for example. He laughed heartedly.

“Dude, we have different bathrooms! Use the one in the hallway as you like, I know you have to jack off with a cock and set of balls big as yours, trust me, it’s not a problem,” he replied, putting me at ease, and I did start using ‘my’ bathroom in a totally unapologetically way—even clogging the plumbing once or twice when I was overly excited, which was then a pain in the ass to fix, especially as Samuel laughed at me for it.

Eventually, we got comfortable enough near each other that we would often be partly naked—which is normal amongst sexually divergent folks, of course, but a little bit less so for people used to passing as normals, like us. I was the first, walking shirtless with my hard cock bobbing around, as when we first met; then he also started walking shirtless, which didn’t reveal his penis, but did make his large bulge more obvious. It made his thick and powerful muscles very visible as well, which I swear were much larger than what a normal person could achieve without steroids. Mine were too.

But then, again, we aren’t normal people.

“Dude, are your muscles part of your body’s dysmorphia? They are really huge,” I remember asking in our first Friday drinking beer together in the balcony. He just laughed it off and looked at me, and then touched my right pec with his hand, and squeezed it.

“Yes, aren’t yours? Because your pecs and arms are huge, so if they are just from working out, you have to give me your routine!” he said, and it was my turn to laugh, and to admit that yes, my muscles were also a part of my condition, as were his.

“Lucky for us, we aren’t so big we can’t hide ourselves with some excess fabric,” he says, sighing, as we look at the park out there.

“Yeah, mostly,” I agree, and he sighed.

“Mostly,” he responds.

The following week, we both lost our pants—that one I think he dropped first. Samuel was gaining weight very fast, and he became slightly chubby less than 10 days after I moved in. His newfound belly was pushing his balls and long soft penis down, and he just found it more comfortable not to wear anything at home—and I wouldn’t be the one asking my landlord who allowed me to live in a great apartment for a fraction of its market cost and was proving to be a solid roommate and a possible future friend not to walk around his own house dressed in however fashion he wanted to.

After three weeks, we were becoming really close, but also quite a contrast, physically speaking: I was still muscular, a solid wall of hard muscle, with an always erect cock and two large balls hanging between my legs. Samuel, on the other hand, was looking almost obese, and his cock seemed not to ever rise, while his balls had ballooned to proportions that made them difficult to hide when he got outside—although his newfound weight helped him with that.

I remember distinctively that in our third weekend together we went for a walk at the park and for the first time I realized some people could tell he was sexually divergent just from looking at him. When we returned home, I talked to him about it, and he shrugged it off.

“I don’t really care dude. As much as I appreciate blending in, this is what I am as well, and I won’t starve myself or anything just to pass as normal,” he said, and I nodded, although I felt a bit attacked because many people with whom I studied didn’t even know I was actually a member of a sexual minority group. It was then that I finally realized that, although I had thought we were in a very similar mental place when we met, we were actually in very different stages of self-acceptance. He was Samuel, someone who happened to look a lot like a normal person; I was Heitor, someone who was always trying to look like a normal person.

Worlds apart.

A few days later Samuel came to me with a very serious look on his face. By then, we had been living together for 28 days, and he had become basically obese. His muscles were certainly still down there, and he had amazing mobility and stamina, but his body was buried in far. I even talked to him about it a few times, but he always assured me it was ‘normal’ and a part of his lifestyle, and then changed subjects. I never insisted on it because I felt we weren’t close enough yet for me to intervene in his life too much without risking straining our relationship– and, given that I depended on his apartment for habitation, I was not willing to risk jeopardizing our having goodwill between us just to give him some unwarranted advice.

That day, though, he asked me to sit next to him—he was so large by then that he occupied almost half the couch when he sat, and the wood bellow made a loud noise when he rested all his weigh on it. As I sat next to him, it was quite amazing seeing his undressed fat belly move as he breathed in and out.

“Ahh!” he rejoiced in relief after sitting down, “So, Heitor, I need a really big favor from you this weekend. It has to do with my condition,” he said, and I nodded.

“Sure, we divergent guys have to help each other. Count on me, dude,” I said, and he nodded.

“Hopefully it won’t be much, but still, it’s good to prepare. Again, you are straight, right?” he asked, raising a topic he had not touched on since we signed the contract. My response was, fortunately, still the same.

“Yes, you know that, I like women,” I said, and he nodded and handed me a key.

“Good, I’m not, but that’s not the point. This is a spare key to my bedroom. I’m going to spend the weekend locked in there ‘blooming’, and I need you not to allow anyone in, especially any women, because I don’t want to get anyone pregnant. Usually nobody comes, as I have a good system in place to keep me safe, but still, it’s important you don’t let anyone in, regardless of what happens, okay?” he says, very seriously, and I nod, confused.

“Sure, but then why even hand me the key…?” I start, but he interrupts me before I can complete my question.

“If there is any emergency, though, then you can open the door. I will be in the large tub in the bathroom,” he informed me, and I nodded, “I will probably be only partly conscious, okay? So, if there’s an emergency, I’m giving you the right to move me. Can you do that for me?” he asks, finally revealing something that I could see in his eyes made him feel vulnerable. I could only nod and try to make him feel assured and not break his confidence.

“Sure, dude. I’ll be there for you if anything happens,” I say, and gave his fat arm a small punch, making his flabby meat wobble. He smiled at me rather shyly, and repeated the favor, except my muscular arm didn’t bulge when he touched me. Still, it was a nice bro moment.

The other day, when I woke up, I didn’t see Samuel in the kitchen cooking his breakfast as usual—he had already locked himself up in his bedroom. I knocked on the door and nobody replied, but he had told me not to go in unless it was an emergency—so I didn’t. I ate some cereal, a piece of cake and eggs and drank some coffee and milk for my breakfast, and then went to my room to study a little. The birds sang outside, but soon I started smelling a delicious sweet and fruity scent. It started soft and weak, and grew as the hours passed, making my reaction to it go from “well, isn’t that nice?” to “where the hell is this scent coming from?!.”

I first looked outside and tried to smell if it was coming from the park—it almost disappeared once I put my head out of the window, so no, it wasn’t. Then I decided to go to the kitchen, to see if it was coming from another apartment—maybe some neighbor was cooking the ambrosia of the Gods or something equally delicious?

At first, that seemed as a good guess, as the smell became stronger when I left my room for the hallway, but it became weaker again in the kitchen and weakest near the window where smell from our neighbor’s kitchen would come from. That settled it: it was definitely something inside the apartment—maybe some amazing food Samuel was eating by his fat-ass-self in his bathroom as he bloomed, or whatever.

“Fuck, this smells wonderful! I will have to remember to curse him about not sharing it and then asking him where to buy it,” I think to myself, trying to sniff the smell and following it to where it was strongest: the door to Samuel’s room, “Although… if eating it is half as good as smelling it, I shouldn’t want to try that or I’ll end even fatter than Samuel…” I conjectured, and then jumped in surprised as someone angrily knocked on our front door.

“Damn bastards! Open the door!” shouted the person on the other side, almost kicking our door down, “I want in, I want in right now!” shouted the deep masculine voice. I went to the living room and, without opening the door, responded.

“What do you want?” I asked, and he just repeated what he had already said. I took up the phone, “If you don’t go away, I’ll call the police,” I said, finally. He kicked the door again, however.

“Call them then, you asshole! They’ll join me in kicking this door down and getting a piece of Samuel’s meat once they smell this amazing scent!” he cried in anger while still kicking the door.

I, for a second, feared he’d break into the apartment and force his way to Samuel—as apparently that’s what he wanted to do. But that’s when I realized that I was most likely much stronger than whoever was on the other side of our door. Then, I simply walked to the small door viewer and, after taking a peek, I realized that although the lad on the other side was quite a stud, he was still underwhelmingly normal. His muscles seemed nice under his clothes, all right, but nothing like mine, and I also suspected I was much taller. Given that, I decided to simply open the door and ‘reason’ with him, instead of letting him trash a part of what was effectively our apartment.

He stopped when he heard the sound of me unlocking the door, but as soon as I opened it he tried to trample me and get inside the apartment, which I didn’t let him do by using my large body as barrier. Then, he tried to push me down, and I resisted and responded by pushing him against the wall of our hallway.

“What the fuck are you doing? Are you planning on invading our apartment or what?! Do I have to teach you a lesson or will you get out of here by yourself?” I threatened, keeping his body immobilized with my arm on his neck and all of my muscles and weight against his smaller and less powerful body. Weirdly, my cock throbbed as I spoke more seriously and violently than I had ever done before, and it quickly started coating my pecs with a little pre—it was still invisible to others, as it all happened under my oversized shirt, but I could feel the warm liquid dribbling down my muscles.

“Fuck off! Let me get to him… I need it! This scent, can’t you smell it?!” he asks, almost desperate, literally drooling. His eyes looked like those of an addicted person, and I sighed. In another place, at another time, I might have felt compassion for him—but right now, I just didn’t care, and so I pulled him from the wall and threw him out of the apartment onto the ground of our hallway.

“Yes, I can smell it, but I keep myself under control! Just ask Samuel where he got whatever is smelling like that later when he is available! Until then, don’t bother us again, or I’ll not be as kind as to let you go with just a warning!” I shout, closing the door and then locking it back up again. I turn around to face the apartment in front of me, and then I savor the sensation of control and power which is running through my brain, trying to process what I had just done while my body was still running on adrenaline.

I was not usually this dominating and possessive, so this felt like a change—a thrilling change, a new experience that I had to relive in my mind until it made sense and became less interesting. My cock throbbed again, and I decide to take my shirt off and go straight to the bathroom to masturbate—which I did to the image of me forcing that smaller man to take my cock and suck me, while I… sucked another cock? One that smelled like the scent coming from Samuel’s room? I was conflicted, confused, but still had the strongest orgasm in my whole life to that point. After that, the smell that infested the apartment seemed to me to be only ever sweeter and more delicious, strangely enough. I was starting to really crave to open that door and take whatever Samuel had in there that was producing this scent.

Had I sent that man away to protect the house, Samuel, or whatever this smell was coming from?—that is what I was starting to ask myself.

I spent the rest of the day trying—and failing—to calm down and ignore the amazingly delicious smell that was dominating our shared apartment. I even almost invaded Samuel’s room a couple times, before deciding to go out for a jog. Being outside in the park and not having that smell tempting me all the time really helped to clear my mind and redouble my resolve not to break Samuel’s trust on me and to just let him do what he must in there by himself. I did have to jack off, though, immediately after I returned to the apartment. This time, I put my lips around my cockhead to eat my own cum, while I imagined in my head that it was the source of this delicious scent that was inside my mouth, which made my orgasm even stronger.

Fortunately, the coward neighbor didn’t return after I scared him away. I was thankful for that not only because it was one less problem in my life, but also because given how weirdly this smell was making me behave—and how out of control I was feeling—I ended up really afraid of what I would do to that poor guy if he did decide to come back. In my mind I had fucked all his holes in many different ways, and I was afraid that if he did push me, I’d do the same in real life—crossing the line between imagination, fiction, and cold, hard reality, the idea of which was pretty scary.

I made dinner and then undressed myself, because I was feeling too hot. I was always hard, but this was something else entirely: even after coming several times, my cock was wet, constantly drooling on my muscles, and aching for release. I jacked off again, and once again I drank my cum—fifth time in my life, third time in less than two hours! I was starting to even doubt my sexuality, as my hands squeezed my ass cheeks and even poked against my asshole as I licked and sucked my large, red cockhead. Worse yet—when I closed my eyes, I pretended it was Samuel’s finger that was exploring my virginal ass for the first time, not my own.

“No… no, I’m not gay or anything. It’s just this smell which is confusing my mind. I am straight, I even have a girlfriend, and I’ve never liked cock, I’ve never taken someone else’s cock,” I repeated to myself as I walked around to the living room, trying to be as far away from Samuel’s room as I could. I sighed and tried to convince myself of it, but more and more the image of Samuel’s ever-soft cock rising up and filling my mouth invaded my head. And so—while naked on our couch—I closed my eyes and gave myself another blowjob while pretending in my head that I was licking, sucking and suckling on Samuel’s large member, and not my own.

When I came this time, I drank some of my thick ejaculation, but also removed my mouth from the way, letting my ropes of milk coat my face, our couch and the wall behind me—which I would later have to clean. As I stayed there enjoying my orgasmic bliss, my abs and pecs coated by my pre, my face painted by my ejaculation, my body all sweaty and panting, my balls hanging out of the couch as my cock remained hard and slapping my pecs, I looked up to the ropes of my cum which had reached the ceiling and were now falling on my hair, exhausted physically and emotionally.

“What the hell is going on with me? What is wrong with this smell?” I asked myself, before going to take another shower.

The warm water of the shower—and jacking off another time—allowed me to empty my head and balls temporarily, and to reflect upon my situation. Whether I am straight or not, now that doesn’t matter. What matters is this smell. After he comes out of his room, obviously, I’ll have to discuss it with Samuel, to see if I’ll have to ever go through this again and possibly how to get to get my hands on the source of this all-powerful scent. But for now, I just had to resist, control myself, tame the urge, and survive this temptation, before I overexerted myself and my cock with obsessive masturbation.

And so I decided to go to sleep early, and to sleep on our couch as the smell in my room had become simply too powerful for me to even close my eyes and see anything other than a bunch of flying disembodied cocks trying to touch me, rub against me, and fill my every hole. In the living room, at least, I could open a much larger window, turn on the ventilator and the TV, and imagine I was a sexless monk and that cocks didn’t exist—even if my own warm member throbbed on my abs as I slowly fell asleep.

I wake up the other day sweating cold, having had my first sex dream in years. As I recover consciousness, I notice that I have my hard cock oozing huge amounts of pre on my abs and pecs—so much, in fact, that it had overflown my muscles and was streaming down my sides to the couch and floor where my pre was accumulating in a rather large puddle.

“Damn!” I say, completely unprepared to deal with this situation. Even as a sexually active and healthy lad, I was used to being under control—not under other people’s control, but my own! Nonetheless, now I had just woken up drenched in a mix of sweat and my own pre, with my cock throbbing between my pecs, while I unconsciously humped my own male tits as I slept, and having had a vivid sex dream in my sleep—worse! A sex dream that involved my almost obese roommate fucking my ass violently, his cock piercing so deep inside me that small hills would form in my belly every time he thrust his cock against my ass. And yet, even thinking about it now, I felt close to cumming again! I breathed in and out, trying to regain control of myself.

And that’s when I realized that the delicious smell had grown even stronger, more maddening, more tempting, and that thanks to this I had been edging for likely hours as I slept!

I had to jerk off again, but the smell had grown simply too strong. If I moved to the bathroom or to my own room, or even the kitchen as I was now, I might have completely lost it. So I started stroking my long manhood in the living room itself, taking a large bowl Samuel had on the dinning table and using it to collect my juices—soon I overflooded it. I got so horny that I stood up, opened my legs wide, and took my cockhead in the mouth. Soon, my hips were thrusting forth, effectively fucking my own mouth and throat, as my pre flowed down my overstretched neck and my face turned progressively redder.

As I fucked my mouth, my ass flexed as did my legs—my whole body trembled in pleasure, my nose opening wide to consume as much of the delicious smell surrounding me as it could, and my balls swaying and dancing back and forth and slapping my legs, following the motion of my hips. Soon, I couldn’t contain myself anymore, and I came within my own throat. I ingested maybe 70 or 80% of my load, but my balls had been on overdrive, and the rest just scaped my capabilities, drooling and exploding through my overstretched lips down my chin, my body, dripping to the floor. I eventually let my cockhead go from my mouth, just so I’d be able to breathe in more of the delicious smell, and as I did so my cock snapped down and the rest of my cumshots went out the window, landing somewhere on the front garden of our building and coating the flowers and trees blooming down there.

After I finally came, I felt terrible with myself—never had I felt more animal, more barbaric, almost possessed. Never had I done something so dirty, so mindless, and also so careless for others. I felt like one of those macros who walks around having their orgasms where they feel like it, however they want to have them, not carrying about the lives of others or how being coated in cum will affect their day. Feeling dirty inside and out, I went to take a shower and then immediately went out for a walk—both to eat something in a place less overtaken by the smell than our kitchen, and because I needed to recover myself. I was feeling crazy, consumed by the smell, and started blaming all my problems on it.

During my walk I made peace with myself. I would clean everything and then, once he left his room and this was over, I’d confess what happened to Samuel and ask him for advice. Being logical about it, of course Samuel would know something about the smell and be able tot explain what was going on, and illuminate why it had changed my behavior so thoroughly. If the smell was to ever return—which I was now uncertain whether I should hope for or against—maybe he could even get me a way to protect myself against its effects.

Soon I returned to our building, however, the smell growing after each step up the stairs, closer to home. When I looked at our door, however, I saw three men in front of it trying to break it open—including that stud from yesterday and two similarly-aged and -shaped dudes. When they saw me, they looked up to my eyes defiantly—despite being smaller, they had the numeric advantage and a crowbar they had been using to try to open our door.

“Fuck, I guess a warning really isn’t enough for some people,” I say, and take my phone to dial to the police.

“Stop him!” said the guy from yesterday to the one with the crowbar, “If the police get here, they’ll want to steal the source of the scent from us!” he cried, and so the other guy runs towards me with his crowbar held high. Now, I’m a tall and muscular dude, much larger than him, but still, he had a crowbar, and so I naturally ran away. That gave the other two guys courage to follow me as well—as the cowards they are. I went directly back to the stairs from where I had come, naturally. Except that, instead of running back down, I decided to ran up, and they didn’t see that—and so they ran down to the lower floors thinking they were going after me. Subsequently, I just went back out to the hallway, opened the door to our apartment, got a large broom we had in the back, and returned to the door to wait for their return. Less than five minutes later, they were back, confused, and they ran towards me—and the door—when they saw I was standing in the middle of the open doorway guiding inside our apartment—and closer to their precious smell.

As they did that, though, I simply used the broom’s longer reach to push them back and make them fall on the dirty floor of the collective area. Once they were on the ground, I took their crowbar and threw it away inside the apartment, behind me. I punched the one with the crowbar first, and then the other new dude, and finally picked up the guy from yesterday and threw him against the wall, before getting so close to him that his whole torso could feel my cock under my shirt. He was so shocked his eyes widened and then looked at me with a clear and patent desire.

“Get the fuck out and don’t return, or I’ll get you and your friends arrested. I mean it!” I say, and he nods slowly before licking his lips. My shirt is wet from sweat from my time outside, as well as precum, and now it is really sticking to my slowly drooling cock.

“Yes,” he says, slowly, and then looks down to my pecs and the huge long cock under the shirt, in front of them, “Can I… touch it, just a little?” he says, and I want to say yes, I really do, weirdly enough. But for some reason I feel that doing so would be more of a prize than a punishment for him, and so I just throw him on top of his friend and walk back to the apartment.

“Maybe, if you don’t come back to bother me anymore!” I say, before I close the door and hear them scrambling away. I put my back against the door and pant while recovering my breath and trying to process what I had just said and done. Did I really want him to touch my cock, did I really almost let him do that? I fell on the ground, on my hard bubbly ass, really confused. Was this the doing of the smell? Hmm, the sweat and deep, delicious smell, filling my nostrils and lungs. Slowly, as I breathed it in, I felt all cells in my body buzz and shake, as did my cock, now producing loads of thicker overflowing precum which made my shirt so wet that I decided to just lose it. I took a shower and jacked off again, but things were becoming worse by the second. I could not do anything now, other than stroke my cock and push my fingers up my ass.

Until I remembered the key.

I scrambled around completely naked until I found it. One hand still stroking my cock, the other held the key like an object of worship, as I walked to the door. I finally put the key in the keyhole, held my breath, and then opened the door.

“Sorry, Samuel, I can’t take it anymore,” I thought to myself, and took the next step.

As I opened the door to Samuel’s room, the smell inside was so strong that I finally lost any last shred of control I still had. The smell just overtook all my senses and overrode my logic and reasoning, replacing them with need, want and instinct.

As I looked around, it was clear that Samuel’s room had become something different than what it used to be—there were a lot of candles around, and even some air purifiers. If those things were supposed to somehow mask the smell that was consuming me, then they were doing a terrible job. What matters, however, is that Samuel wasn’t there.

I soon saw some light coming from his bathroom, though—where he said he’d be. I went there, not as much following his former instructions as having my body follow the smell. The delicious and powerful scent was only stronger, more dominating and overpowering the closer I got to the bathroom—so that’s where I went. Before I even entered there, though, my cock exploded spontaneously, throbbing violently as my cum reach the ceiling and flew everywhere else—on Samuel’s bed, on his closet, on his chair and on his bed. I, however, didn’t even stop to savor my latest orgasm, as the smell invited, forced me forward.

Inside the bathroom, Samuel laid with his eyes closed on the bathtub. His body had lost maybe 30 or 40% of the fat he had had last time I saw him, and I was already starting to see again the muscles that I remembered from our first few meetings. The most impressive change, however, was his cock: a huge, meter-and-a-half hardon stood proud in the middle of his frame, producing so much precum that it filled the large bathtub and overflowed onto the bathroom floor before being collected by several drain around the room. His cock soon became the center of my attentions: it was, then and there, the sexiest thing in the world—hell, it might well have been the whole world, for all I case.

The large lip-like slit seemed to breathe as it ejaculated pre and the delicious sex smell which, I now realized, came from Samuel himself. The proud red shaft clearly throbbed constantly, despite keeping pointing perfectly up, to the sky, like a portrait by Leonardo. His cock was like a fountain, like a log, like an obelisk producing godly ambrosia, truly and completely blooming with manliness. And I needed it, now—I felt I couldn’t carry on living otherwise.

An so I went towards him, soon on my knees. I touched his cock and started stroking, which made the flow of pre grow and Samuel moan, although he stayed with his eyes closed—almost sleeping. Losing all control and rationale, I took his cockhead in my mouth—it was much, much thicker than mine, and it overstretched my lips, but I took it in. Then and there, I saw no other option than to having his missile in my mouth, and sucking from it.

I drank his precum copiously. I fed on it for minutes, maybe hours—it’s hard to tell, when you are under his enchantment, feeling poisoned by his pheromones.

Eventually, however, I pulled away and his cockhead popped out of my tired mouth, productive as ever. I soon realized, I needed to take it up my ass—I couldn’t help it, I just needed it down there and now, whether I was virgin or not, it didn’t matter. Whether it could fit or not, it didn’t even cross my mind. I just parted my asscheeks and tried to sit on it—of course, it didn’t enter; the gigantic log just slid against my ass and my back, coating me in his hypnotic juices. I tried to take him in several more times, unsuccessfully, but what I didn’t know is that just like it had done to my mouth and throat, getting my lower body coated in his precum was slowly relaxing my muscles and preparing me to receive him.

Of course, and thankfully, I didn’t give up, and as I sat once more on Samuel’s gigantic rod, my ass spread apart by my hands, his member finally pushed and popped inside me, making me moan violently at once, and continue sitting on his member as I shook my lower body. The deeper he went, the more my muscles twitched around the enormous cock involuntarily. By now, my hands had abandoned my ass—which his thick member could keep spread apart by itself—and were violently stroking my own rod, which copiously delivered my pre. Soon I came, and as I did my lower muscles trembled and welcomed even more of Samuel’s cock in my guts as I slid down further.

In the beginning it was hard to accommodate him inside me, even as it felt wonderful. I shook in pleasure and my eyes were rolling back as I moaned loudly and tried to get more of his cock in, but still, he was too large for my ass, even if I were a sexual minority. I was a virgin, back there, after all. Soon, however, his pre was softening my insides, making them mellower, more accommodating to his size, and so as I used my legs to go up and down his cock—I always found myself reaching closer and closer to his groin with every motion. It was still unthinkable to have it all in me, but I had taken well over half a meter when my cock came copiously another time, my balls contracting to deliver my cum with extraordinary strength, splashing everywhere, while inside me my muscles further contracted around Samuel’s rod, milking it in orgasmic spasms.

After that, I literally lost myself in bliss. I continued taking his cock for hours and hours without respite. When I did rest, his erection would support me from the inside, and I’d only slide further down around it. I fucked his cock, taking him sitting, on all fours, laying on top of him, standing, and in every other way you can imagine. He continued filling my ass with his pre, as he burned his excess calories to produce more delicious juice, making it easier and even more pleasurable for me to take him. After many hours, each of my long ass-strokes of his manhood was covering basically all 1,5 meters of his cock, meaning my guts went from completely empty to having a spear showing in my abs every few seconds.

I lost count of how many times I came that night, but I think that by the end of it all my liquids must have represented at least a fifth of the contents of the large bathtub in which we laid.

Many hours after the sun rise, while I still tirelessly took his cock up my ass—when Samuel had become once again the muscular stud I had met about a month before—his immense balls finally started to contract, and his cock to throb truly violently inside me. His cock was so strong as it throbbed, that I could feel it expand and contract inside myself. I knew something big was coming, and so I buried all of his manhood inside me, sitting comfortably on his lap, and starting to massage his beachball-sized cum orbs with my hands.

“Yes, yes, fill me!” I said in an almost guttural and instinctive way, not even processing how I was saying it—simply expressing my body’s desire in words.

He moaned, he grunted, he panted, and then he came like a cannon. I think his cum must have filled my guts, because it felt so hot and strong that—at least in my head—I could feel the aftertaste of it in my throat. As he came inside me, my body lost all the incredible strength his scent had forced me to find the last dozens of hours, and I fell on top of his muscular torso, breathing with difficulty as I felt fuller than ever and completely exhausted.

He seemed to wake up then, and try to move. His hand held the sides of the tub and he tried to stand up, but my weight on top of him surprised him and he slipped and fell back down on the precum bath. The impact forced his cock even deeper inside me even as it softened.

“What…what? Heitor?!” he asked finally touching my body, apparently surprised by my presence on top of and around him—his hands travels to my belly, stuffed with his huge cock and filled by his load.

“I… I am…sorry, I couldn’t resist the smell,” I say sleepy, feeling hugged by him and calmed by the warmth from his torso, arms and his cock inside me, “I… I guess I’m bisexual,” I just say, and he sighs and starts to laugh, before patting me on the head. I end up sleeping, as I am just too spent. The last thing I head Samuel say, between his heatedly laughter:

“It’s okay, I should have guessed!.”

I slept for 12 hours after that. When I woke up, Samuel offered me food and explained me that his conditions—well, his lineage’s sexual strategy—meant that his body accumulated weight over a period of time (which varied depending on the person, availability of food, weather and other circumstances), and then ‘bloomed’ by producing an extraordinary amount of pre and cum, and a powerful pheromone which attracted all those sexually interested in men. According to him, he could have ordinary sex, but his erections when he wasn’t blooming were much smaller and then he tended to bottom. No matter how sexually active he became, however, ‘blooming’ was inevitable.

“Not that I would you want to avoid it, as it’s pretty much the most pleasurable things once can experience,” he vouched, although I had a hard time believing ‘blooming’ was more intense than what I had experienced.

I then asked him whether he was conscious during blooming, and he said that yes—he was, but only kind of. His body discontented to focus all energy on pleasure and reproducing. Some people did manage to regain control after some practice, but those demanded exercises.

“So, your pheromones affected me because I am bisexual?” I asked, again, and he nodded.

“Sorry, but yes. Since you are sexually attracted to males it’s kind of unavoidable. We evolved to be as powerful as possible because we bloom over a relatively short period of time,” he responded, and I nodded slowly, remembering his ad.

“Does that mean I should look for another apartment?” I asked, and he sighed and looked away.

“Only if you feel you cannot live like this,” he responded, looking at me with the corner of his eyes to gauge my reaction. I smiled and pushed his shoulder a little.

“If you don’t mind me, then I can learn to live with it,” I reply, and he looks at me with a smile.

“Okay! But please be aware that my blooming will become longer as the weather gets warmer,” he said, before drinking some of his coffee. I laughed.

“Well, I always loved summer,” I replied, and he laughed almost to the point of spilling his coffee, and then rolled his eyes, before I started laughing as well.

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