Description: Case notes concerning undercover reconnaissance (File MV1310-JUD-2, UC Observation Session 1A)
Investigator: Liam K. O’Brien, SSG-5, Level 10 magilegal and Junior Delegate to the All-Magic Inner Council
Subjects: Travis and Trent Judson, 19, enrolled as students at a major nonmag University (specifically, [redacted]). Originally a single individual named Max Fitzgerald, 26.
Background: The Judson twins have now posted nine videos over the past four weeks. Of these, five have consisted of the twins talking to-camera from an ad-hoc studio in their home while enacting various magical enhancements on the viewer. Most of these changes are subtle but have each tested out as reliably effective by both myself and my assistant, as well as for randomly selected dreamwalked nonmagicals. In two videos (evidence items #336C and #336D), the enhancement is a small but palpable (and apparently permanent) increase in the viewer’s libido. Fortunately, the effect was is not reimposed on repeated viewings, though the timecode of the embedded spell invariably produces a sudden and very intense arousal accompanied an urgent need for climax.
Another video (#336E) contains a rare Level B-2 luck spell for encountering very good-looking, eagerly willing male sex partners within 72 hours. For my married assistant, thankfully, the conjured Lothario turned out to be his husband, who returned home early from a business trip to sweep him away on a lusty, sex-drenched weeklong holiday; from this I conclude the effects of the spell might actually be intensified for those in stable, long-term relationships, though further testing is perhaps warranted. For myself, I will state only that the spell produced dependable results across five separate trials, including one test where I deliberately located myself on a mountain far from any settlement (see attached potential ongoing nonmag sex partner clearance application re: [redacted], the handsome and enthusiastic Swedish mountain-climber encountered on said occasion).
Unexpectedly, the effect induced in the fourth to-camera video (#337A) seems to vary by viewer: most viewers achieve a one-time 10% increase in cock size and girth and no further effects from later viewings, but roughly a third, myself included, experience a significant bump in testicle size on first viewing, with a 15% increase in cock size deferred to the second viewing. I have been unable to determine the spell’s delineation criteria between the two groups; it may be random, or there may be a more intricate algorithm behind the distribution of effects we have not yet detected.
Evidence item #337B, previously detailed, is the most spell-intensive. In addition to the instant, automatic massive-orgasm trigger associated with the twins kissing sensually on camera (induced twice in the video, and repeatedly triggered without fail on all subsequent viewings), a powerful spell embedded at the end of the video produces a dramatic increase in the viewer’s cuteness and “hunkiness”. The most sensational effect occurs on the tenth viewing of the video: each viewer, on tenth viewing, experiences a one-time duplication and enlargement of his cock and a permanent alteration to his sensory matrix, allowing him to experience the twins going down on said cocks every time arousal is achieved as a result of thinking about the twins.
The remaining four videos (#336F through H and #337C) show the twins interacting with fellow students and each other in various venues. In the first video, several scenes show them gathering appreciative men while walking across campus; another has them shopping for underwear at various clothing stores and boutiques, much to the delight and/or sexual confusion of various menswear associates; the third has them dancing at a gay club. The gay club footage at one point seems to show the entire tightly-packed crowd of horny, hip-grinding and mouth-mashing mostly shirtless revelers swirling around them on the dance floor momentarily turning into exact duplicates of these very attractive, beautifully built, and infectiously exuberant twins; it’s unclear whether this actually happened, or was simply made to appear to happen in the video, but it’s pretty hot either way. The fourth video (#337C), showing the highlights of a sunny afternoon pool party at the twins’ home that continues into the evening, occurs after the “perceived hotness upgrade” described and demonstrated in #337B—the actual source of the instant-orgasm trigger included twice in that video—and so documents a great deal of spontaneous ejaculation and pairing off (or, frequently, tripling off) of the twins’ ardent and increasingly attractive admirers from among the student body. In the video you can see that a few of them have already very visibly experienced the tenth-viewing effects of #337B summarized above, which, as I can attest, is difficult to hide in any kind of swimwear.
Their social media presence beyond YouTube is as might be expected. Their Facebook page is almost normal for two extremely outgoing, popular, and randy college students, and their Twitter stream is mostly retweets of fans gushing about how hot and sweet and inspiring they are, often with pics expressing bashful, smiling thanks. A more stealthy effect is woven through their Instagram account: it’s a constant stream of pics of the two of them, candidly taken as they’re going about their daily activities, and in many of them they’re shirtless or wearing revealing tank-tops or tight, body-hugging gear. It took us a while to discover that each pic contains a very slight “pump” to the viewer’s muscles, as if from five or ten minutes of a routine workout, though the mundane user will notice only the pleasure that comes from such muscular stimulation. Browsing through more and more pictures multiplies the effect, so that binging through a week’s worth of pictures produces the cumulative pump of a hard afternoon at the gym—with, interestingly, an emphasis on the muscles you’d actually have wanted to have been focusing on had you actually been engaged in a driven, vigorous workout. (My own pump was concentrated on my legs at first, as my usual exercise is running and biking; but through semiconscious effort over the course of several days of studying the feed’s archive I was able to gradually shift the impact of the spell toward first my arms, then my shoulders and finally my chest and abs.) As with a normal workout the effect wanes but is not completely ephemeral, and a steady exposure to the twins’ feed produces an enduring residual muscle expansion, with the result that while the twins themselves are very fit but well short of (for example) typical magazine fitness models, a lot of their more loyal fans (not to mention myself and my staff, owing to the need to monitor the twins’ activity) are becoming increasingly and noticeably buff simply through exposure to their social media presence.
All of these spells have been found consistently effective on both mags and nonmags and are entwined in a positively masterful Level A-4 submersion spell that completely conceals any hint of magic and normalizes all magical effects. In fact, this A-4 whammy is so impressively powerful that even some lower-level magicals are taken in by it. (See attached interview transcript and dreamwalk notes of [redacted], talisman maintenance apprentice and ardent fan of the twins’ video channel. Thanks to the retroactive effects of the submersion spell, [redacted] is wrongly convinced that he has always possessed an athletic build, a distractingly cute face, and two hefty cocks that seem to drive each other to full arousal at the slightest instigation several times a day.)
Because the seal on the the twins’ spells is so rock-solid, the usual concern regarding the public exposure of magic is effectively nonexistent despite a burgeoning international fanbase and a growing population of spell-augmented mundanes, not to mention a not insignificant number of affected magicals. Our priority therefore has been on how the twins are accomplishing their advanced sex magic charms and, particularly, their beyond-expert-level blanket concealment and normalization; we also need to know whether someone is behind them, or whether they have achieved master-level adeptness independently of the paths of the Arcane Tutelage all magicals must tread—both sobering possibilities. Intense monitoring of the twins’ media output has produced only meager information bearing on these questions. The spells embedded in their videos and still images are uniformly as impervious to intrusive scrutiny as they are to perception as magical by those unaware of magic.
Consequently the next stage of investigation, direct covert engagement, was at length deemed justified. Normally a journeyman magilegal operative would be tapped for a case like this. Given the level of advanced magic and the underlying implications for the whole of our society, however, I quickly determined that no one but myself was qualified to undertake this mission.
The notes of my first encounter follow. Because the changes wrought on me and my reactions to them form part of the evidence relating to the twins’ case, my narration of events will be significantly more detailed and candid than is normally considered customary.
For the first encounter, I wanted something brief. A more lasting relationship—classmate, study partner, or even roommate—might be valuable later, but for the initial contact I needed something limited and controlled. (That’s not exactly what I got, but never mind.) I rented a small flat convenient to both the college campus in the city and the twins’ roomy but unostentatious house in a nearby upscale suburb and began remotely observing their movements and behavior over the course of three weeks, looking for a way in. One thing that drew my attention was the frequent pizza deliveries, especially on Friday nights, and the fact that the twins usually interacted with the delivery guy, sometimes inviting him in for a few minutes’ conversation. After some deliberation I decided to disguise myself as a college-aged pizza delivery guy and use this possible in to attempt a preliminary reconnaissance of the twins’ home and in-person behavior.
Before I proceed I should note a hitherto unanticipated aspect of the twins’ spells that surfaced only at this point in our investigations. In order to effect my disguise I used a Class 3 restricted genonominal tropomorphic spell to transform myself into this 20-year-old ordinary-looking blond guy I’d picked out at random from a picture on another college’s website—one of a bunch of happy but nondescript students wildly cheering on the local football team. As you know, such a spell retroactively reshapes the physical body from the point of conception (with mind and memories in protected reserve until the spell completes), so that instead of a potentially penetrable camouflage obscuring your appearance your actual form is completely rebuilt from the zygote forward, with no mask to be ripped away. I chose this method in spite of its difficulty (six hours of regressive meditation!—and I’d have to to it all over again to return to normal after the UC op wrapped) and the potential risks and side-effects involved, because when it came down it I was pretty sure advanced tropomorphics were my only option. It was painfully obvious to me that the twins were more than capable of easily penetrating a simple camouflage spell, and even, probably, a Class 1 body swap (I knew from previous ops that something from the person whose body you were borrowing always seems to bleed through somehow). That left me with the only forms of disguise spell that were, at least in theory, objectively absolutely undetectable.
I should have come away from the spell looking exactly like that random Joe College I’d chosen for his unobtrusiveness. And I did—except that the effects the twins’ spells had already exerted on me were so durable that they actually persisted straight through the tropomorph. I came out of the spell looking like that ordinary college guy, but applied to that bland face and unimpressive form were all the revisions I’d had visited on my own body in the previous weeks of intense investigation. The same cuteness enhancement and hunkification, the same effects on muscle and libido—even the enlarged and duplicated equipment. It was as if I had experienced all the spells that had been wrought on me up to this point in the Judson case, but it had happened to me in the body of this random 20-year-old guy!
Since I hadn’t been in this body when the spells had hit me, to be nonetheless bearing their effects now, plowing straight through the tropomorphic spell like a truck through a brick wall, seemed to indicate an almost uncanny level of magical ability well beyond the already alarming levels already indicated.
Once the tropomorphic spell was completed I stood naked in front of a full-length mirror and looked myself over, and I couldn’t do anything but stare for what turned out to be an embarrassingly long time. I was awestruck by what I saw. The transformations I had experienced in my original body had, I think, been somewhat tempered by the added years I had over most of the twins’ fans. As a four-hundred-year-old warlock (with the appearance of a forty-year-old mundane) I’d been decently handsome, like all the sorcerous O’Briens before me: my hair was straight, raven-black, and faintly silvered at the temples; I had a clean jawline and clear midnight-blue eyes; my body was fit, tall, and limber. I’d never had much trouble drawing men to me when the mood struck. The effects the twins’ spells imposed on me through the videos and image feeds had seemed mostly to enhance and intensify the kind of attractiveness I already possessed, so that I became a very handsome and very fit; existing attributes like my height and grace drew and focused men’s attentions, an enhancement rather than a transformation.
Now, however, I beheld the cumulative effects of those spells on this younger body, and… I was stunning. I stood there naked forever, unable to get enough of myself. I didn’t want to cover up, and I mean that literally. I did not want to not be able to stare at how perfect my body was. That ordinary-looking blond dud? That guy was now amazing-looking, elevated by nudges here and there that had somehow become shoves. Lush, loose white-blond hair tickled thick, tanned shoulders. Piercing blue eyes stared out from a startlingly cute face, with a sharp jaw, pale, suggestive brows, and full, wine-red lips I wanted to kiss just from seeing them in the mirror. My body was all sculpted, strong-looking muscle and miles of amber, perfect, caressable skin. My arms were mesmerizing, not bodybuilder-huge but round and firm, with veined, mobile muscle that drew the eye as I bent and twisted them, watching them shift and bunch in simple fascination. I had slightly flaring lats and even subtle intercostals that elegantly emphasized the way my lean, stretched torso tapered to a tight waist, a hard, round ass, and long, powerful legs that looked ready to outrun and outplay every World Cup champion at once. My chest was now beefy enough to grab and grope, with pert, dark nipples and a faint bit of frosty hair you’d have to look close to see; but what truly held my gaze the longest was what lay below directly it—eight hard, stone-carved abs. I’d had a flat stomach before, and the “hunkier than you think you are” spell had tightened and defined them into a lickable six-pack that was one of my new Swedish mountaineer lover’s favorite things about me; but this—this was exquisite, a tanned-marble work of art worthy of a museum. I couldn’t keep my eyes or my hands off them.
And my junk! Maybe, by some fluke, the Joe Nobody I’d picked almost completely at random had been prodigiously hung already… but the heavy, thick, fist-fat, half-thigh-length peens I was sporting now, and the warm, tight, lemon-sized nuts behind them, were an order of magnitude more massive even than the obscenely oversized cocks I’d barely been getting used to in my normal warlock body. I stared at myself, open-mouthed and increasingly turned on, and started to wonder just what the outlying parameters were on the seemingly innocent changes the twins’ spells were wreaking on their ballooning population of fans.
With considerable reluctance I donned the scarlet, logo-embroidered polo shirt worn by the crew of Rodrigo’s Pizza. It wasn’t as flattering on me as it could have been, considering how unexpectedly beautiful my physique now was, and I was regretting having conjured it with my real name, Liam, stitched below the logo. I considered myself in the mirror and surprised myself with the thought that the uniform shirts would look better on me with the sleeves completely gone. In fact I had an almost irresistible temptation to make it so. I gawked at my own thoughts and tried to force myself back to some semblance of reason. It was a bad idea, I growled at myself. For one thing, to keep my cover I would have had to do it for all the Rodrigo’s employees and push it back retroactively, and that’s the kind of reckless hedonistic world-shifting that would get me investigated by my own office. I forced myself the drop the idea and reluctantly went to finish getting dressed.
Owing to my swelling equipment I decided to forego boxer-briefs and pulled on my most comfortable jeans, adapted by the tropomorphic spell to fit my new body, augmented muscle-butt and all. By the time I had them up over my ass and ready to zip up I was mostly hard, and there was nothing to do but position my turgid cocks more or less straight up and trap them behind the waistband. A flush of arousal was coursing through me. It felt like my balls were sloshing with the massive quantities of jizz my body seemed hell-bent on producing. For the first time I realized I was going to actually be meeting in person these breathtakingly hot men, the sight of whose mere smiling faces and pleasantly bumpy shoulders had driven me to massive, euphoric orgasm on multiple occasions. Would I be able to keep from blowing my wads, juddering to explosive release, just from seeing them face to face? I knew that if they kissed I was a goner—that was embedded in their enhanced “perceived hotness”—but I was already so giddily aroused just from seeing myself in the mirror that I was in serious danger of uncontrollably climaxing just from being in the presence of any hot guy, let alone the super-arousing sex twins who’d been turning my crank—and magically sucking me off—for weeks now.
Don’t think about them sucking you off. Don’t think about anything even remotely like that… My only saving grace was that I’d started getting hard by turning myself on, because otherwise I’d be feeling their hot mouths around my fat knobs right in that very moment.
I struggled to focus. I seriously considered taking a few moments to get myself off right then and there, just to take the edge off. I was a hair’s breadth from succumbing. It wouldn’t take long, not in the state I was in. But the schedule was too tight. The twins had already called in their order, and I needed to intercept and take over the delivery (necessitating a minor, routine memory mod for the actual delivery guy) within the next ten minutes. Plus—if I whacked off now I would show up at the twins’ house smelling like jizz. Which they might like, honestly, given how much they talked in their vids about the vast quantities of hot, thick cum their fans produced, but it felt like a bad first impression. And… why was I worried about making first impressions, when I was (a) in disguise and (b) investigating these two as criminals defying magical law and endangering the magical community?
Slightly sobered in mind at least, if not in body, I squared my shoulders, repositioned my now-rigid, towering, damp-tipped uncut erections behind the taut, confining waistband of my jeans, and headed out.
I managed to waylay the delivery driver (Rufus, according to his shirt) only two blocks out from the twins’ place, sending him on his way with a nice tip and a memory of having completed the delivery, complete with the twins showering the bashful farmboy with smiles and compliments on his truck and his sexy cowboy boots. I could tell the guy was proud of both, and when I do have to interfere with nonmags I try to make it nice for them. Moments later I was climbing out of my own car, a used, nondescript dark-blue Altima I’d picked up shortly after I’d secured the apartment, and was heading up the walkway, thermal carrier packed with two loaded pizzas balanced in one hand, toward the twins’ understated two-story mansionette.
It was a fairly big house but in keeping with the poshness of the surrounding neighborhood. I had done some research and the house was real, not whipped up magically, having previously housed a tax attorney and his family before they’d moved on to greener pastures in Delaware. Nor did the twins use it as a 24-hour party central, with mobs of hooting, beer-buzzed ex-high-school-alpha-dogs and skankily-clad rich-hubby-hunters parading through the place at all hours accompanied by a trendy teen sex comedy soundtrack. They did have hot friends around frequently, and there were occasional shindigs like the pool party featured in one of the videos; but generally they seemed to sequester their mass interactions to the campus and various wanderings out in the wider world, leaving their home for more intimate activities. They also shot their to-camera videos here, and I was curious to see the space they shot them in, as I suspected there might be some detectable residual magic from the spell-embeds they’d done on the vids they’d made there already. With luck I might gain some useful clues toward my overarching questions as to how they were doing it, whether anyone else was involved, and if they had any deeper motives than just fucking around and having fun.
I rang the bell with my free hand and felt an unexpected flutter of nerves. I didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, as the door opened almost immediately and I found myself in the presence of two men who’d been filling pretty much my every waking thought for the past month—only now they were live and in the flesh, almost palpably beautiful and so intensely attractive that if I hadn’t already been hard as wrought iron I would have boned up so quickly and so unstoppably my dicks would have torn open my pants like so much Christmas wrapping paper. They were so much hotter in person, the pure boyish cuteness of their faces alone amped up past 11 and pushing toward 14 or 15. Their trim, humpy physiques and hefty packages were subtly emphasized by snug, well-made nubby henleys and chinos, and I was relieved to see that they were still dressing in their signature colors, brick-red for Travis and a deep sky blue for Trent. What I hadn’t previously registered was just how tall they were: I’d pegged my newly acquired Pizza Hunk body at around 6’2”, and it was a rush to realize that the twins’ limber frames had a good two inches on my own more muscled physique. They were standing so close to each other their shoulders were pressed firmly against each other and their arms brushed together all the way down to their hands, which looked like they would clasp together of their own accord if left too long unattended.
I stood there still as a statue, staring at them and listening to myself breathing. It seemed loud in my ears. My lips were parted as if I might be preparing to speak, but all words had left me and I forgot everything from the purpose of my undercover assignment to the fact that I was an undercover magilegal at all to the thermal container full of pizzas I still had balanced in my other hand. They smiled at me, their matching green-gold eyes sparkling with amusement at my dumbstruckness and with friendly, naked appreciation. My fat, rock-hard cocks surged behind my waistband and my balls seemed to go into overdrive, flooding my racing veins with pure, carnal need. Forget making out—if those two had even turned to look at each other I would blow my loads for probably an hour of continuous, unceasing orgasm. It sure felt like it would go that long, anyway. They looked me over, and I swear I could almost feel their gazes sliding over me like warm caresses. I had a crazy urge to turn around and make sure they got a gander at everything they’d done to me, but probably they’d get a chance to see it sooner or later.
“Wow, Trav,” blue-clad Trent said with an easy grin, not taking his eyes off me, “looks like we won the pizza guy lottery this time!”
“Yeah, definitely,” red-topped Travis agreed. “He’s the hottest yet.”
“By a mile and a half,” Trent said. Their eyes slipped back up to meet mine, and I sucked in a long breath. Their eyes were truly intense. Watching the vids and browsing their Instagram feeds I’d wondered if they’d shopped the saturation and color intensity, but… well, if they did, they managed to do it in real life.
Maybe that oxygen I pulled in thereby restored a bit of blood flow to my brain, though, because I started to remember the plan. I knew that my oversized double endowment would give me away as an ardent follower of their video channel the moment a shift of my shirt or some other eventuality called the twins’ attention to my eager, super-aroused cock-pillars, so I’d decided to out myself from the outset as a fan and see if their natural exuberance and the genuine interest in their fans they’d exhibited in previous videos could work to my advantage.
“You’re those guys,” I said, not having to work too hard to sound awestruck. Their smiles widened. “You’re the Judson twins!” I gushed.
“We are,” the twins said together, beaming.
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” I said, and once again I wasn’t really acting. My pulse was racing, my breathing still sounded loud in my ears, and my cocks were pounding at the doors of my libido for release. Let me put it this way: the level control I had over my own brain and body in that moment, standing there facing them at their front door, felt sort of like steering into a skid on an icy highway at night in a freezing hailstorm while being fellated by a troupe of naked, love-crazed acrobats.
They started to turn toward each other, and I realized they were going to do the thing where they rewarded fans with a few seconds of twin-snogging. They did this a lot in their walkabout videos, but if they did it know I would definitely lose my shit and cum bucketloads all over, and I wasn’t ready for that yet. “Wait!” I said, and they looked back at me, though, they were still half turned inward. I gave them a sheepish half smile. “I, uh—” I stammered, then explained lamely, “I only have the one shirt.” I nodded down to my uniform polo (and again the thought came to me that it really should be sleeveless). Both twins gave me a knowing smirk.
“We’ll just have to get it off you then,” Travis said.
Even as Travis spoke Trent was relieving me of my pizza burden. “C’mon, Lllliam,” he said, cheerily overenunciating my name, “let’s get you inside.”
“We’re going to need some help with these pizzas anyway,” Travis added, just his warm hand on my back guiding my inside almost making me lose it.
I affected a snort. “Coming on to the delivery guy? Really?” I said in mock indignation, as we moved into the cozy, wood-paneled, dark-tiled foyer. “You guys have watched way too much porn.”
“Oh, we don’t need porn,” Travis said in my ear, his hand still pressed against the small of my back as we moved through the foyer into a vast, well-equipped kitchen done up in tasteful whites and blue steel. “Right, bro?”
“Not even a little,” Trent replied happily. He was setting down the pizza carrier on a long, broad island that was almost as big as the entire kitchen of the spartan apartment I was renting. He slide the pizzas out of the sleeve onto the counter and checked each one to make sure it had survived transit. The heady odor of cheese and garlic mixed with the raw taste of sex all three of us were giving off. “Mmm, yummy,” Trent said, turning from the pizzas to me as he said it with, it must be said, a very cheesy grin.
“How much do we owe you?” Travis said. His hand was still right there, pressed against my back, like it he held it there long enough the fabric separating his palm from my bare skin would slowly dissipate until there was nothing between us.
I gulped. It took me a second to remember the details of the order they’s placed on Rodrigo’s website. “Uh, you guys paid by card,” I said haltingly, “so—we’re, we’re good.”
Trent did not say I’ll bet we are, but I swear his eyes did, and his dark eyebrows twitched as if they wanted to wiggle suggestively. I almost laughed. He moved toward me, positioning himself, unsurprisingly, on the side opposite his twin. “Don’t you want a… tip?” he asked, still grinning, as if the corniness of all this was part of the fun. Which, actually, it totally was.
I tried rolling my eyes, but it was hard to tear my gaze away from Trent’s. “Seriously?” I teased, my tone dire at the obviousness of their come-ons. I didn’t even have to mention the generous tip they’d already put on their card, of course—this was all just goofing around between three hot, happy guys who were flooded with hormones and very, very into each other. Something about their behavior intrigued me at some sub-basement analytical level in my brain: they were clearly operating independently of each other, confirming that they were two separate men who looked identical, even if, as our research indicated, they had once been one individual. Trent and Travis were like actual twins, though they were so perfectly aligned in desire and intent that they operated as more or or less as one.
I twisted to look at Travis. He was so close the twins’ extra height was making me look up. Those green-gold eyes were lit up with amused, intense interest. “You guys do this with all the pizza dudes?” I asked.
“You’re the first,” Travis said easily. He was close enough to me I could feel his warmth, standing on my left and just behind me as his brother moved to stand just as close on my right and a little in front of me.
“We were waiting for just the right hot pizza dude,” Trent elaborated, still smirking shamelessly. Weirdly enough, he seemed to mean it. Not just because they liked what they saw, but because they were somehow—playfully fond of me? How was that possible? We’d just met! And yet—
I looked between them, marveling at how well they were handling me. Their natural geniality, so obvious in the videos, translated in person into a feeling of utter ease in their presence. Flirting and joking around with these supercute hotness twins felt like the most natural, normal thing in the world, and it already seemed to have deepened and stabilized somehow between the three of us, almost as if some kind of spell had been cast to situate someone they both felt something for into a deep, emotional and carnal comfort zone with them from almost the very first moment of shared interaction. I was incredibly aroused, and might still cum at any minute, but it also felt like with these guys I could stay this turned on, this close to orgasm without going over, for a very long time. It was exhilarating, like knowing that the hot-blooded euphoria I had surging through me from being with them didn’t have to end but could be prolonged indefinitely. Endlessly, if I wanted.
Trent licked his lips and pressed his hand against my abs, just inches from the tips of my rigid dicks. “Mmm,” he said. “Feels nice.” This time he did wiggle his brows.
I shuddered, pushed infinitesimally closer to the edge. “Guys,” I said. “Your pizzas are gonna get—”
“Fuck the pizzas,” said Trent said.
“We’ll warm them up later,” Travis added. Still holding me immobile by the hand pressed against my back, he brought his lips close to the side of my neck just below the jawline and gave me a tiny, tender kiss. Trent, likewise holding me in place with the hand placed against my abs, mirrored his action, moving in for a small, sweet kiss against my neck on the other side. I shuddered again. How I kept myself from exploding in a kitchen-drenching orgasm at that moment I do not know.
“Guys,” I said again, my voice quavering.
“Oh yeah,” Travis said. His lips were still right next to my skin, brushing against it as he spoke and making tingles rush up my spine. I could not only hear the smile in his voice, I could almost feel it, the barest millimeter away from my neck.
“One shirt,” Trent added, completing the thought, his lips just as close to my skin on the other side. In one swift motion they swept the uniform polo up and off of me. Trent tossed it cavalierly onto the now empty thermal sleeve, then turned and froze. “Fuck, Trav, do you see this?” he said. He was drinking me in like a man who’d just discovered what thirst truly was.
“I was looking at his ass, bro!” But Travis came around me partway to get a better look, his hand sliding up my now bare back and onto my thick shoulders.
“Look at that body!” Trent said.
“Look at those cocks!” Travis exclaimed. His eyes jumped up to meet mine. “You really are a fan!” he said, clearly as delighted by this as he was by the sight of the massive, luscious erections I was sporting.
I returned their grins with one of my own. “I’m a huge fan,” I said, because that was the appropriately cheesy response. I was grinning just as wide as they were now.
“We can see that!” Trent laughed. He tore his eyes away from my flexing hard-ons and met my gaze in turn. He bit his lower lip lightly. “Do we make you this hard, Lllliam?” he asked, teasingly.
“Do we turn you on this much? Lllliam?” Travis echoed.
“You don’t know the half of it,” I told them. My voice sounded rough and a little deeper than before. There was no point in half measures. “You guys bone me all time,” I confessed. “Like, literally, all the time. I just think about you guys and, bam! I’m hard as a fucking rock.” Not really much of a lie. Actually, not a lie at all. I’d been rocking two huge hard-ons a lot of the time lately. Even before I’d turned myself into a muscled, horny, superhunk pizza guy with even bigger bits than I’d had before.
Trent and Travis exchanged a glance, their lust-darkened green-gold eyes twinkling with mischief.
“And,” Travis said, slipping a strong hand around the side of my neck, “what about what you see in the mirror?”
They both moved a little closer, and now that I was shirtless it was almost like I could feel their beauty on my skin like bright sunlight on a warm spring day, even apart from the places they were actually touching me. I’d noticed in the videos that there was something about the dark, expressive lines of their eyebrows that seemed to sharpen their beauty, maybe focusing the intensity of those dancing eyes, as if they could say more than words. Now that they were not on a screen but real and in the flesh, standing inches away from me, the effect was intensified. Not only did they seem heart-searingly beautiful, but their sweet, smiling eyes held me in a way unlike any others had before—not pinned or trapped, but held, as with a boisterous embrace, wrapping around me the way their hands were wrapped around my neck and shoulders, drawing me gently in.
“Do you turn yourself on, too?” Trent asked, echoing his brother.
The question took me by surprise. I ducked my head, feeling my cheeks warming as I thought about how easily I’d turned myself on examining my newly grown pizza hunk bod.
“Aw, look, we’ve embarrassed him,” Trent said.
“So adorable,” Travis added.
“Most adorable hot pizza guy ever,” Trent proclaimed.
“Well, yeah,” I confirmed, as if such a conclusion were obvious. I was still looking down, my cheeks still hot, but I shrugged as if my adorability were a matter of public record. “Clearly. All other pizza guys totally in the dust.” The twins laughed, and I managed to look up at them from under my brows, meeting their eyes in turn.
“Hey, Liam,” Travis said, squeezing my shoulder. Trent did the same, squeezing my neck as I looked between them.
“Yeah?” I said, finally raising my chin to look at them directly. My eyes tripped on their lips for a second, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted more, for me to kiss them or for them to kiss each other. I’d blast a double load either way. I kicked my eyes up to theirs, though. Anticipation swelled in me, though I wasn’t entirely sure what was coming next.
The twins exchanged boyish grins before turning back to me.
“Do you want to…” “…Make a video with us?” they asked.
“You can’t cum yet,” Travis said, and Trent continued, “Not until we’re done with the video.”
We were in the bedroom they’d converted into a studio, the twin seated on either side of me. Just as the twins usually did in their videos we were sitting very close, hip to hip to hip—close enough our broad shoulders were overlapping a bit. “If you bust your nut in the video we won’t be able to upload it,” Travis explained. Trent added, “They kinda frown on that.”
I gave them each a coy smile. “After the video?” I asked, because there was no way I’d be able to leave this house without releasing at least one earth-shattering jizz-eruption.
“After the video!” the twins promised laughing. I felt the acute urgency of my need to blow my load seem to bank somehow, though, as if my junk actually heard and accepted the twins’ admonishment not to cum yet. Maybe they did—there was probably a spell involved.
The bedroom was large and mostly empty apart from a long, rectangular leather-upholstered bench, sort of like a backless sofa where we were now sitting, Travis in red on my left, Trent in blue on my right. A few feet behind us was the pale pistachio-green-painted wall I recognized from all the other to-camera videos, while before us was the actual camera in question, a high-end Canon DSLR video camera mounted on a tripod with a fuzzy microphone attached. This apparatus was hooked up via long cables to a sweet Mac Pro 8-core workstation set up on a long computer desk with two large HD monitors, one of which was showing a real-time image of a still-shirtless me sitting between the two identical hotties who were, I had to keep remembering the targets of a magilegal investigation I was supposed to be in charge of. Tropomorphing myself into a pizza hunk must have clouded my brain, because the investigation, the undercover op, the dangers posed by the twins’ reckless use of advanced magic—honestly, it all seemed to belong to someone else.
The workstation desk was complete with two comfy computer chairs for when the twins were editing their vids and feeds together, presumably. Beyond it were a double set of large windows. During the day they probably helped provide some good cinematic natural light, but it it was dark outside and the windows were half-hidden behind gauzy white curtains. Instead a pair of LED light panels on stands stood in each corner, bathing us in cool, white light.
There was something else about this room, though, that was decidedly odd. It was the kind of latent spell residue that I was rigorously trained in detecting, and even with all my distractions I sensed it automatically, like an aftertaste in the air. There was something about it, though… something I didn’t quite recognize…
“You ready, Liam?” Travis asked.
I looked up at him, taken abruptly out of my thoughts, and it took me a second to realize what he was asking. “I guess,” I said. I felt a little fluttering in my stomach again. It had occurred to me only seconds before that actually appearing in one of the videos my office was investigating might not be kosher, but that wasn’t what was tickling my nerves. No one was going to be able to recognize me, anyway—I just looked like some guy with nice pale-blond hair, a cute face and a rockin’ bod, and, well below the camera frame of course, a pair of massive rock-hard dongs none-too-patiently awaiting their promised release. I was feeling a little self-conscious, though. I glanced down at my bare chest, then back up at Travis. “Are you sure I shouldn’t be wearing a shirt for this?”
Travis grinned. “Oh, we’re sure,” they both said together. “Trust us,” Trent added.
I turned and gave him a look. “I… don’t think so,” I said. Trent laughed and pointed toward the camera. I turned to look directly into the lens as the twins started their usual patter.
“Hey, guys!” Trent began. “Welcome back to the T&T Show… where we both know how to make you blow! I’m Trent, of course, the cute twin.”
“And I’m Travis, the even cuter twin.”
“And for those of you who keep saying in the comments that we’re both the cutest twin…”
“…Who are we to argue?”
“Don’t listen to them,” I broke in, winking at the camera. “This one’s definitely cuter.” I randomly pointed right, toward Trent. Then I looked toward Trent and feigned confusion. “No, wait, I’m wrong,” I said to camera, and turned the other way, toward Travis. “It’s definitely—” I frowned and turned back to the camera, shrugging comically. “I give up,” I said. “They’re both incredibly cute.”
The twins grinned, wrapping their arms around my shoulders from both sides and resuming their banter without missing a beat. “And this,” Trent said, “is the special guest we promised in last week’s video.” I filed that away to think about later. Had they foreseen this encounter, or had they just bet on some kind of hot guest scenario occurring serendipitously? It would be a dafe bet, given the life they led.
“Say hello to the fans, Liam,” Travis said. I waved for the camera and said hello. Their arms across my shoulders felt really good, and I was definitely glad they’d made it so I could fend off cumming long enough to enjoy the simple contact of strong arms across bare shoulders.
“Liam is one of our biggest fans,” Trent said.
“How many times have you watched last week’s video, Liam?”
“So far, that is?”
The question took me a little by surprise, and I was more than chagrined when I toted up the likely answer—all in the name of investigative research. “Er… maybe sixty?” I said sheepishly.
“That’s dedication,” Travis said.
“Though I bet a few of you out there could probably beat him,” Travis added.
“More than a few.”
“You guys love to watch us.”
“And that is so hot.”
“So hot. You have no idea.”
“We get off just thinking about you getting off.”
“Did you get off, Liam?” Trent asked me.
I turned to Travis, then Trent, honestly incredulous. “Are you kidding?” I asked. I turned to the camera. “If any of you can watch these guys kiss and not bust a nut, you’re a better man than I am.” I was thinking about their “hotness upgrade”, which virtually guaranteed that any guy with a trace of gay would bust a nut watching the twins making out—and there were two make-out sessions in that video. The twins knew it too, but for the purposes of their banter, which was a part of what made them so bonerific as twins in these videos in the first place, they took it as a regular compliment on them being generally spunk-worthy.
“That’s so amazing,” Trent said.
“We’re so turned on just imagining it.”
“You getting off, over and over again.”
“Damn, Liam, that is incredibly hot.”
“You just became, like, ten percent hotter to us just telling us that.”
“I bet some of you are cumming right now just looking at him.”
“All shirtless and hunky and hot as anything.”
I tried not to react to this last bit, because though I knew it sounded like the usual sexy palaver to the viewers watching, there was no question that I actually had just gotten a hotness upgrade myself—and I’d already been so hot I’d turned myself on just looking myself over in the mirror. “Guys, guys,” I said, jumping in and looking at each of them with an approximation of a shit-eating grin. “C’mon, you’re going to make them all crazy jealous of me.”
“Oh, we’re just getting started,” Trent told me, his smile brilliant as he twitched his dark eyebrows suggestively for the camera.
“But don’t worry, guys,” Travis added. “Some of you won’t be too jealous by the time we’re done.”
“So Liam,” Trent said. I turned to face him, and he said with a grin, “Which of us do you want to kiss first?”
My game face slipped as raw, seething lust boiled up within me, suddenly flooding me with the intense desire I’d been feeling from the moment the twins had answered the door and I’d seen those mouths I’d wanted deep down to claim for my own. With his arm around my shoulder Trent’s beautiful face was only inches away, and without thinking I dove in and covered those full, red lips with mine. It felt almost unendurably sublime even before Trent opened for me, accepting a fervent deepening of the kiss and meeting my questing tongue with his. My dicks jumped and slapped wetly against my abs, the spell-imposed moratorium on cumming now seeming almost excruciatingly unfair.
“Whoops!” I barely heard Travis laughing. “I guess the answer’s ‘whoever’s closer’! But… what if he wants to kiss both of us?”
Insofar as this registered in the midst of the greatest, most passionate kiss of my entire four-hundred-year life, the only sense I could make of this was that Travis was going to try for a three-way kiss. That didn’t make much sense, though—as much as I liked the idea I didn’t see how it would work with the three of us sitting all in a row en banc like this, and anyway I wasn’t really quite willing to give up this transcendent and hopefully endless kiss with Trent.
Travis moved closer, and I felt him kissing the side of my neck. I was in fucking heaven. But then something strange happened. I was making out with Trent, but the world seemed to be in flux, so that at the same time as I was making out with Trent I was also experiencing another reality where I was turned the other way, and I was making out incredibly passionately with Travis. Reality became mushy, and I was able to experience both overlapping worlds, one where I was kissing Trent and another where I was kissing Travis. And then… things seemed to solidify. No more mushy reality, except I was still fiercely kissing both twins at the same time.
I opened my eyes, breaking both kisses. I was looking directly into both sets of dancing, lust-filled green-gold eyes.
Looking back I should have become sick and disoriented with the sudden onslaught of impossible sensations. But I didn’t—it must have been part of the spell, my mind knowing how to make sense of what I was seeing and feeling. What I saw was two identical, dick-hardeningly hot faces, very close, flushed with arousal, eyes alight and dark with need at the same time. I was looking both ways at once. What I felt was two sets of bruised, ecstatic lips. Two tongue-licked, stimulated mouths. I swallowed, twice at once. Two throats. Two chests. The twins’ strong arms were around my shoulders still, but I had two sets of shoulders, and Trent had his arm around one set and Travis the other. I could feel something else, too, that took me a second to make sense of: a firm chest was pressing against my back, and I was pressing my firm chest against a pair of shoulder blades.
I didn’t look away from Travis’s gaze—I was a little afraid to—but in my peripheral vision I was registering with those eyes, very close, cascading pale-blond hair… the back of a head. The back of my head. The head, shoulders, and torso that had been having its way with Travis was directly behind, and pressed tight up against, the head, shoulders, and torso that had been doing likewise with Trent. As if it was something I’d been waiting my whole life to do, I snaked the powerful arms of my back torso around my warm, muscular front torso, letting my hands ghost over the firm, weight pecs and hard abs I found there. I lifted my front hands and rested them on top of the back ones, feeling the snug embrace from behind from both directions. It was almost as awesomely pleasurable as the four-way kiss had been.
I was determined, though, not to show the twins just how incredibly hot I was finding this. Despite a pounding—no, two pounding hearts that seemed like they must have been hammering loud enough to be audible to the camera, I raised a bemused eyebrow at Travis, trying for a pose of placid equanimity. “You couldn’t just take turns,” I told him, and his smirk widened almost ridiculously.
“Like any normal set of super-sexy twins,” I added, this time to Trent, whose delighted expression perfectly matched his brother’s.
The twins’ grins told me I wasn’t fooling anyone. They seemed about to resume their teasing banter, so I bent to kiss them both, this time slow and sweet. They let me do this for a beat or two, then pulled back, beaming and obviously very pleased with themselves and very, very aroused. For the first time I took note of massive erections tenting their loose chinos—one cock each, I was intrigued to note with the part of my mind that was still capable of rational thought. It made sense—two cocks was for guys the twins magically went down on together, not for the twins themselves.
“So what do you think?” Trent said.
“Do you like it? Is it awesome?” Travis added.
“I do like it,” I told Trent.
“It is awesome,” I told Travis.
Then I looked down, the back me peering over the front me’s shoulders. What I saw lined up with what my sensations were telling me: my shirtless, hard-muscled, pressed-together torsos both shared one tight waist, two impressive legs, and twin angry uncut monster dicks that were as rigid as titanium, slathered slick by now with more pre than I would have previously thought possible.
I looked back up at the twins, loving the fact that I could look at both of them at once. “But what if I want to do more than kiss?” I asked Travis—upping the ante on the question he’d asked before. “What if I want to do more than kiss… with both of you?” I asked Trent.
For the first time, the twins were taken by surprise, and they each stared at me, bruised lips parted, as each of them took a second to take in the scenarios I was offering them. No doubt they’d anticipated the idea of each of them fucking me, and/or each of them being fucked by me, as the likely end result of the game they’d started with me. But they’d become as distracted as I had by how truly luscious it was just making out with me—perhaps that was helped along with the effects they were experiencing of the hotness upgrade they’d so blithely given me. It felt nice to be be able to be smug at them for a moment and have them on the back foot for a change, though I knew it wouldn’t last.
Trent recovered first. He turned to the camera and winked, as if it was all part of the show. Maybe it was. “That’s the question—right, guys?” he said.
“We’ll leave it up to you,” Travis said. “Should we keep him like this? Option A: a Liam sandwich we can both kiss…”
“…or Option B: finish the split and get two hunky Liams for the price of one!” Trent finished.
“Give us your answers in the comments below,” Travis said.
“Don’t hold back! And in the meantime—”
“Remember we said some of you won’t feel too jealous?”
“Don’t worry, you can get in on this too!”
“If you have two guys you’re really into, just watch this video with both of them!”
“Sit between them while you watch, and when you get to where we start making out with Liam…”
“Just start making out with your two guys.”
“And you might just get the best of both worlds, just like we did!”
“You can even choose Option A…”
“…or Option B!”
I gaped at the twins, astonished. Had I just heard what I thought I’d heard? Apparently I had, because (and this is jumping ahead a bit) over the ensuing weeks we were able to track a sudden emergence of what should have been an impossible phenomenon: thousands of mundanes who abruptly had either two torsos or two actual separate bodies, thanks to an incredibly powerful spell embedded in this very video. And because all of it was still covered by the normalization intrinsic to the twins’ unassailable A-4 submersion spell, no one thought twice about it. All these hot guys were suddenly walking around in the world with two hunky torsos instead of one, going to work, buying clothes, acting in big-budget action thrillers, gay romantic comedies, and lavish Bollywood spectacles, and basically living normal lives, most of them with two loving, devoted boyfriends who enjoyed making out with them anytime, anywhere. The ones who’d gone for the full split were less obvious but no less prevalent, showing up everywhere from high schools to old age homes, from law firms to hardware stores. After a few months there was a push to allow three-way marriages where two guys married a third guy with two bodies, and eventually they were legalized in Tennessee of all places. …But all that’s for later documentation in this case.
The twins, meanwhile, were ignoring my shocked expressions and were already wrapping up the video. “That’s all for now,” Travis was saying.
“Don’t forget to vote in the comments for your dream version of Liam,” Trent told the viewers as if I weren’t sitting right there.
“And tune in next time where we’ll see the results…”
“And maybe even hotter things will happen!”
“Until then—you guys are awesome!”
“See you in your dreams!”
“Say goodbye, Liam!”
I turned back to the camera and gave the viewers a slightly dazed wave, and the twins laughed. Then Trent got up and switched off the camera, still chuckling.
I stood up too, staring at them as they moved about, switching off the LED lights and turning on the regular overhead ceiling lamp. I was still hugging my torsos tight together, and it felt so good I was unlikely to stop anytime soon.
“So that’s it?” I said. “You’re going to leave me like … this…?” I said, my words slowing down as both twins turned away from the equipment and, facing me, started pulling off their color-coded henleys. I let myself stare at their wonderful long, fit torsos for a moment as they answered me.
“What’s the matter?” “Don’t you like it?”
“I love it,” I said in a soft voice, still staring. “But—”
The twins were unzipping their chinos, and I forgot what I was going to say, or how to say things at all. The English language seemed to drain out of the back of my head.
The twins were both wearing dark blue boxer briefs which did little to contain their massive erections, each easily as long as either of mine and considerably thicker around. They pulled off the briefs as one and their dicks slapped audibly up against their abdomens.
“Fuck,” I said, swallowing hard. Whatever impediment they’d placed against my urgent need to cum was starting to fray, and in moments it would be in tatters and vanishing to the four winds.
“Soon,” Travis (I think?) said. It was tough to tell them apart now that I didn’t have the shirts to go by, but I was sure I’d find a way… when my mind was working again.
“But first we have a more pressing need,” probably-Trent said. Then, wonderfully, they sank in unison to their knees before me and started undoing my jeans. Seconds later my dicks were completely free, glistening in the cooling air of studio bedroom and with no other need than to be in those mouths I’d been exploring only moments earlier.
“Unnnnhhhh,” I moaned intelligently. I stared down at their adorable faces from two slightly different vantage points, mutely encouraging them to proceed.
The twins pressed together as tightly as they could, arms around each other’s long, bare torsos. “It’s not as easy to do in real life,” one admitted.
“But we’re going to give it our best shot,” the other said, grinning.
“Then later… the fucking.”
“You between us.”
“Fucking and getting fucked.”
“We’ve been dreaming of having someone between us.”
“You’ll be the first.”
God, were they trying to make my balls explode. “Guys—!” I pleaded.
They grinned, and then, all at once, they took both of my leaking, desperate cockheads into their hot, eager, expert mouths, giving me the same treatment they undoubtedly gave each other every chance they got.
Somehow I managed to hold out for five long minutes, but they were relentless, driving me to transports of pleasure so intense I hardly knew what planet I was on. They pushed me, remorselessly and with undeniable passion, until finally I rocketed over the edge. My whole body seemed to tighten, and then then there was a surging, rocketing release, both of my cocks releasing gout after gout of hot seed. I was cumming uncontrollably, like I had countless orgasms piled up over a night of overstimulation. I crashed to my knees, still in the final throes of extended orgasm and even as I took the twins into my arms and stared mindlessly making out with both of them at once I realized I was feeling their hot jizz splashing on me, too, and we all let our climaxes drift into a soaring post-orgasmic bliss as our four-way makeout slowed and steadied, lasting for an unguessable time until we came to our senses and decided a group shower was in order.
After more sex in the shower I was suddenly very hungry, and we decided we should see about restoring some energy for more intense play yet to come. I wandered naked into the theater room while the twins pretended to heat up the pizzas in the oven, and not long after we were enjoying hot, delicious, good-as-new pizza while we watched some supernatural cop show with improbably hot detectives on the twins’ big screen. The twins egged me into eating two slices at the same time, but after a while I settled into eating with my front torso as we cuddled in the deep, comfy couch, enjoying the feel of leaning back against the thick, firm pecs of my rear torso while lazily feeling myself up from behind. This was probably only temporary—I predicted the fans would vote two complete the split so each twin would get his own Liam, though the twins weren’t so sure—but it felt damn good, almost as good as having the twins pressed against me, naked and laughing and already half-hard with thoughts of the anticipated glorious lovemaking to come.
After said glorious lovemaking—which, for the moment, I will leave to your imagination, other than to affirm that it was, indeed, glorious—we took another shower and crashed, languid and sated, in the twins’ massive and extremely comfortable bed. I tried to lay awake and ponder the effects of what the twins had done to me on my investigation, and the repercussions of the next-level world-altering spell the twins alluded to in the new video. The unusual spell residue I’d tasted in the studio came back to me, and I knew I needed to figure out what was so odd about it. But I was really very tired and extremely fuck-happy, and it felt incredibly good to lie nestled close under the covers between my two impossibly sexy secret-sorcerer twins. I drifted off with hardly a responsible, warlocky thought completed, and dreamed very, very sexy dreams.
Description: Intracelestial memorandum (File MV1310-JUD-2, Item #492A)
From: Diogenes R. Harrumpf, Magipractioner and Eternal Delegate to the All-Magic Inner Council.
To: Ricky Romero, Level 6 magilegal and senior assistant to Liam K. O’Brien, SSG-5, Level 10 magilegal and Junior Delegate to the All-Magic Inner Council.
Subject: Magilegal Liam K. O’Brien; Status and Possible Dereliction.
Be advised that the All-Magic Inner Council is not in receipt of the third insertion report in relation to Magilegal O’Brien’s infiltration of the maginquiry subjects Travis and Trent Judson. Magicode bylaw FZ3.25, section 6, paragraph 164, clearly states that insertion reports involving personal-life penetration of maginquiry subjects must be filed with the Council exactly upon the quarter-moon. It has been precisely one full half-moon since the receipt of the second insertion report, which detailed Magilegal O’Brien’s plans to disguise himself as a student at the subjects’ college and casually acquaint himself with the subjects and their circle.
Be further advised that our efforts to contact Magilegal O’Brien regarding this oversight have been inexplicably unsuccessful, and all attempts at scrying his location and status have been blocked. Magicode regulation QQ65.104E, section 2, paragraph 1,503, subsection K, explicitly states that magilegal operatives must remain within reasonable scrying range at all times, “including and especially” during magiquiry subject penetration.
Be therefore even further advised that, unless Magilegal O’Brien brings himself into full compliance with both magicode bylaw FZ3.25, section 6, paragraph 164 and magicode regulation QQ65.104E, section 2, paragraph 1,503, subsection K within one twenty-eighth of a moon, I must conclude that Magilegal O’Brien is to consider himself cited as in Dereliction, level azure-2, with the associated mandatory probation period of 109 twelvemoons (leap-twelvemoons inclusive) incumbent upon such derelictory status.
I hope this note finds you well. Please be incidentally advised that, as you may have seen in general memo CM-6GwWwW-99E (sent Thursday), the date for the Gossamer Ball has been moved forward to one quarter-moon before Beltane owing to unforeseen and, frankly, deeply unsettling aesthetic divergences detected in the galactic klioscopic nebular membrane. I hope to see you and your charming husbands Gary and Jim there. We on the Council are all quite curious as to your choice of costume this year!
Yours in Merlin, DRH
Description: Intracelestial memorandum (File MV1310-JUD-2, Item #492B) [deleted draft, unsent]
From: Ricky Romero, Level 6 magilegal and senior assistant to Liam K. O’Brien, SSG-5, etc.
To: Diogenes R. Harrumpf, Magipractioner and Eternal Delegate to the All-Magic Inner Council.
Subject: RE: Magilegal Liam K. O’Brien; Status and Totally Imaginary Dereliction.
Please be advised that, in accordance with magicode bylaw FUQ.U, section F, paragraph U, I must conclude that you are a pompous ass.
Description: Intracelestial memorandum (File MV1310-JUD-2, Item #492B) [sent]
From: Ricky Romero, Level 6 magilegal and senior assistant to Liam K. O’Brien, SSG-5, etc.
To: Diogenes R. Harrumpf, Magipractioner and Eternal Delegate to the All-Magic Inner Council.
CC: Elias Q. Ragnarok, Senior Magipractioner and Eternal Vice-Chairman to the All-Magic Inner Council.
Subject: RE: Magilegal Liam K. O’Brien; Status, etc.
Thank you for your note conveying the Council’s heartfelt and most gratifying concern for my superior, Magilegal O’Brien, as he continues the embedded phase of our office’s priority-alpha, Council-sanctioned investigation of the mysterious Judson twins. It is reassuring to know that our work has the careful attention of such august mages as yourself.
I notice that you cite magicode regulation QQ65.104E, section 2, paragraph 1,503, subsection K, regarding operatives remaining within scrying range. While this is indeed an important passage, allow me to bring to your attention subsection L of the same regulation, which states that all operatives involved in undercover reconnaissance requiring the use of Class 3 tropomorphics, including genonominal tropomorphics, are to be deemed uncontactable and consequently entirely exempt from “all applicable magicode stipulations relating to… reporting and availability” for the full three-moon duration naturally inherent in such spells. It is my considered opinion, and therefore the opinion of the Magilegal Office of which I am the acting senior operative, that the situational exemption stipulated by reg. QQ65.104E §2 ¶1,503.L obviates, transparently and completely, the requirements and associated penalties detailed in both reg. QQ65.104E §2 ¶1,503.K and bylaw FZ3.25 §6 ¶164 cited above in your memo, file document #492A. (Magilegal O’Brien’s decision to employ Class 3 tropomorphics was, as you no doubt observed, clearly documented in the second insertion report [#340B], which you alluded to in your note.)
Thank you as well for the update regarding the rescheduling of the upcoming Gossamer Ball, and for your kind words in relation to the previous iteration of said event. Unfortunately, with the level of urgency implicit in a full Council member taking on such a direct and hands-on involvement in the conduct of an ongoing investigation, it seems I will be much busier than expected through Beltane at least and, in consequence, I am regret that neither I nor my husbands, Gareth and Graham, will be able to attend this year’s ball.
Description: Intracelestial memorandum (File MV1310-JUD-2, Item #492C)
From: Elias Q. “Q” Ragnarok, Senior Magipractioner and Eternal Vice-Chairman to the All-Magic Inner Council.
To: Ricky Romero, Level 6 magilegal and senior assistant to Liam K. O’Brien, SSG-5, etc.
CC: Diogenes R. Harrumpf, Magipractioner and Eternal Delegate to the All-Magic Inner Council.
Subject: RE: RE: Magilegal Liam K. O’Brien; Status, etc.
What? What’s this? Not coming to the Gossamer Ball? Poppycock and folderol!
Do you know, the wife and I still talk about your costumes at the last one. Imagine, all of us asked to dress as our favorite mystical beings, real or fictional, and no one done up as anyone more outlandish than boring old John Dee. John Dee! Honestly. And never mind my own costume! (I was Hermes, if you recall—the Paul Shaffer version. Cheeky but very obscure, at least in these parts.) Then you four show up as Death, Famine, War, and Conquest, appropriately-hued gossamer horses and all! Knocked Fergus’s Albus Dumbledore into a cocked hat, if you ask me.
Now, as you may have heard, the theme for this year’s Gossamer Ball is superheroes from mortal literature. My idea, as if you couldn’t guess. Controversial, I know—not many of us bother to keep up with all the delightful malarkey that mortals read like you and I do—but I have long been of the opinion that we need to open up the windows of the magical realm and let some damned fresh air in now and again.
So this year we’re shaking things up, and I expect to see you and your handsome partners there to help move the fun along. The wife and I have a small wager, you see, and it would be very rude of you to put the kibosh on that! She’s betting you’ll come as the “Mutant Turtles”, whatever they are, but I’ve put my galleons on the Fantastic Four. I’ve recently become a devotee—did you know that they don’t have secret identities? Shocking!—and I think it would be quite amusing to see a two-bodied man and his twin husbands done up as such visibly divergent characters. Wot larks!
As for the rest of it—you may officially forget everything that that fogey Diogenes R. Sourpuss said in that blasted memo he sent. Hah! I’m sorely tempted to spend a Celestial Command on you and make you forget! What a dillweed, honestly. I agree with you that we on the Council have no business getting involved in Liam’s, well, business. Not yet, anyway. And we certainly wouldn’t get in the way of you delighting us yet again at this year’s G. B.—huzzah for team Ricky!
Yours cordially in Merlin and all that, “Q”
Description: Intracelestial memorandum (File MV1310-JUD-2, Item #492C) [obscured, visible to sender and recipient only]
From: Ricky Romero, Level 6 magilegal, acting senior magilegal operative.
To: Liam K. O’Brien, SSG-5, etc.
Hey boss, how goes it? Haven’t heard from you in a few days. Hope everything’s going well.
Getting a little heat here, but I can handle it. Drop us a note when you get a chance, though.
I’m not sure how I lost track of time so badly.
I mean, it’s not like I wasn’t aware of every moment and daily landmark as it passed. The twins and I woke up together, nuzzling cozily in their wide, comfy bed. We got dressed together, the twins always enjoying how the pair of shirts I had to borrow from them every morning strained comically over my much brawnier torsos. We shower-fucked, had big, carb-laden breakfasts (the twins, unmysteriously, were not at all conscious of the healthiness or calorie stats of food they ate), and went out into the bright sunny daylight together. We went to the twins’ classes together, and the combination of the twins and magnetically sexy, double-torsoed me meant no one could keep their eyes off us, profs included. We did the twins’ social media together, too, though I noticed they stuck to pics and short streams on Instagram and Twitter; no new spell-embedded videos seemed in the offing just yet, and I wondered what that meant. We ate with the twins’ friends at various campus hangouts—acquaintances, I should say, as for two gregarious, extremely outgoing young men Trent and Travis didn’t seem to have genuine, close friendships with anyone. And then after all that we went home to fuck, watch movies or play video games, and fuck again until our baser animal needs and our deep, aesthetic cravings for each other’s mesmerizingly alluring bodies were truly slaked and we drifted off to calm, blissful dreams coiled in each other’s strong, beautiful arms.
So, the usual sequence of time passing was there. Morning, day, night, and then again. But some the days seemed to overlap on each other. Time was sliding past me, but the grains in the hourglass didn’t accumulate or increase. One day did not add to another to become two, or seven, or ten. Instead, each seemed to layer itself onto the one before and sink silently into it, becoming a latent, half-remembered iteration of the same idyllic sojourn from sleep to sleep. It was as if there could be only one such sweetly comfortable, happy-sex-filled day in existence, and somehow I was privileged to coast through it end to end, again and again, as long as I liked, like an amusement park ride from which I never had to get off.
Part of it was the undertow of slight surreality that stayed with me no matter what we were doing. Travis and Trent doted on me, which never failed to low-key surprise me. After all, these were two smirking, sarcastic pleasure-seekers, who spread magical transformations around just because they thought it was awesome and the results entertaining as fuck. And yet with me they seemed distracted from their own casual hedonism, focused steadily instead on just making sure I was happy—and not only in the sense of sexually sated, either. They weren’t just pretending to be my boyfriends—they were my boyfriends.
They even went about it in slightly different ways, which was also something I didn’t see coming. Thanks to their magical origin they were literally identical in every respect, identical in the way no actual biological twins could ever be. Their tight, fit bodies, their habits and quirks, even their basic personalities were completely indistinguishable, from the lone freckle an inch to left of both their belly buttons to the way their sweetly kissable lips quirked up in tandem just slightly on the left whenever I caught them looking at me, their green-gold eyes glinting with untold mischief. Their fans only told them apart by the red/blue color coding—and I knew now that, scamps that they are, they loved to switch that up every so often too, just to fuck with everyone.
But Trent and Travis weren’t quite identical when it came to me. The most obvious example was how Trent—and I knew it was always Trent, somehow, despite their being physically and temperamentally identical—always cuddled and kissed with my back torso, and Travis always nuzzled the front one. (“Time for kisses,” Travis would say, eyes dark with desire. “I’ll go first,” Trent would add, leaning in to start our marathon smooching just ahead of his brother.)
The magic let me see, hear, smell, taste, and feel out of both upper halves at once almost completely unconsciously, so I didn’t really have much cause to distinguish between them in my thoughts beyond subconsciously applying the instinctive file-coding rubric for two items in the same series that was ingrained in me after three hundred years as a magilegal op (the first one A, second one B). Once I noticed the twins’ curiously divergent behavior when it came to physical intimacy with me, though, I started half-jokingly thinking of my front upper half as “Travis-Liam”, and the back one as “Trent-Liam”. And before you ask, they weren’t quite as individually possessive about my shared duo of incredibly fat, not quite nipple-high erections, and it’s not like they were always attending to both my cocks at the same time… but, yeah, Trent-cock’s the one on my left, and Travis-cock’s on the right.
It wasn’t just the sex that derailed my brain. It was the… queerness of it all, if we can still use that word in the old-fashioned sense.
Just being immersed in their world was part of it. After months of studying the Judson twins phenomena as a sort of abstract magilegal problem, the latest (if the most unusual) round in three long centuries of mostly mundane magilegal casework, suddenly having the twins’ full and potent attention and being all the way inside their lives like this had me, I think, a little starstruck. It was like taking a tour of a famous starship while it’s docked in port and all at once finding yourself sworn in as the first mate, sailing off with it into new adventures. I didn’t quite forget that I was also a mole, a double agent snuck on board to discover secrets no one was meant to know. But every day my role as an operative of the All-Magic Council seemed more and more remote from reality.
How much I’d changed was also a big factor. That make-over I gave myself had already messed with my head, when the spell to turn me into an average, forgettable college nobody instead transformed me into someone so magnetically lightning hot I actually sprayed double-doses of thick, potent cum all over the mirror the first time I actually saw myself. That moment kind of sprained my brain—just a little, but in a pretty durable way. That wasn’t the last mirror I came on, either. Every morning—every morning—I saw myself in the twins’ huge bathroom mirror, and pretty much instantly, within less than a second, I found myself absolutely unable to hold back a massive, reflection-splattering, body-shaking orgasm. Every time.
The twins, of course, thought it was hilarious and crazy hot at the same time. They started planned their morning around it, the jerks. By the third day we had one of those big car-washing-sized sponges in there to help with the cleanup, and all the stuff that used to be on the counter next to the sink had been quickly rehomed into the adjoining cupboards to either side, just to keep the decks clear for my next instant, mind-melting, self-sparked double-cannonade.
And then on top of that, smack in the middle of their latest chat-to-the-camera video the twins had casually twisted reality sideways just enough that I now had two fucking torsos instead of one, each with its associated head and arms, merging at the waist into a single lower half. Right there on camera, with my giant, two-seconds-from-climax erections quivering just out of frame. And… I loved it. I adored having two torsos. It was like a revelation.
Sure, being able to kiss both twins at once was hot. So hot. But that wasn’t even the best part. Not even being able to suck them both at the same time—though, let me tell you, that’s up there. No, the best part was sitting or lying down, because I absolutely loved being able to lean back my A-torso, my Travis-torso, and press the weight of it against the thick, firm pecs of my Trent-torso. I never got tired of that, the delicious squashing of thick, firm pecs against a wide upper back, and the fact that I got to wallow in both pleasures at once, feeling the pecs and the back at the same time, was so sublime it made my soul slowly unwind, until I found myself feeling utterly relaxed and cleansed. Nothing in my long life had prepared me for the low, unexpected, toe-curling frisson of being able to mash my shoulder blades against my own bulging, almost oversized pecs and just leave them there, weight against weight, muscle against muscle, my two hearts beating in synch inches apart, warm serenity sifting through me head to toe like the most natural drug ever devised.
I almost couldn’t stop doing it, it felt so good. I never wanted to give that up. Maybe that’s part of why I wanted to stay in the dream.
It all combined when we went out. The hotness upgrade, and the doubled upper body. True, the twins also turned guys on the instant anyone laid eyes on them. They made boners pop up wherever they went, and of course if they kissed, which they liked to do every once in while just because they’re incurable rascals (and, to be fair, because they’re both really good kissers), those stiff rods in all the guys’ jeans became hot, spreading messes in no time flat. I heard that some of the guys who shared classes with them had started wearing condoms and sandwich bags over their dick, just in case they kissed that day and they blew their loads in their pants again. It was starting to spread around campus by word of mouth, like a T&T proximity life hack. (Huh, I bet there were video blogs about what it was like being around the twins. I needed to check that out. Funny I hadn’t thought of it before.)
Anyway, with me it was different. Guys weren’t just boned around me, they were drawn to me. Everywhere we went they moved toward me and followed me, wide-eyed and red-cheeked, wanting to get close like they could bask in my hotness.
The awe didn’t even really seem to come from me being double-torsoed. That was already starting to become a thing, just in the short time since the video the twins had made with me as their shiny new pizza-delivery boy-toy. There was one in the Western Civ class the twins had featured in their kissing video, for example—the one with the built-in cock-doubling spell (and a lot of guys on campus very obviously had two extra-large cocks these days, I couldn’t help but notice). I spotted a couple of two-bodied guys around, too. You can always tell they’re not twins, somehow, or at least I can.
As I experienced this weird, collective guy-pull more and more I started thinking that maybe the effect of my magnetic hotness from my self-transformation was actually doubled by my having two deliriously handsome faces and two mesmerizingly hot upper bodies, on top of my hypnotically sexy gymnast’s legs and perfect round bubble-butt, of course. We drew guys toward me like iron filings to a magnet as we sauntered through campus, all of them hovering and staring as close as they could get without actually touching us. The twins, again unsurprisingly, found this very entertaining. At least once a day they livestreamed bashful me and my adoring, totally boned (and often double-boned) entourage of adorkable fanboys and hot jocks, all to record viewcounts.
Maybe it was the faces more than anything. Most guys just hovered near us, like I said, but when we were sitting at dinner with guys the twins knew, at least in passing, they tended to get bolder and often begged Travis and Trent for permission to kiss me. “Can we kiss Liam? Please?” they pleaded.
(I never needed to be introduced—I was already becoming famous as the T&T BF. I even had a pair of extra-large ring-collar muscle tees given to me at dinner a few days in with that exact legend on both of them. I don’t even know who did it—some guy the twins had in their sociology class. And even though the dude couldn’t have known Travis and Trent had each territorially claimed their own Liam-mouth for kissing and stuff, the tees were color-coded like the twins’ shirts in their videos—one “Travis”-red, one “Trent”-blue. I made sure to pull them on the correct torsos when I wore them out the next day, to the twins’ vast amusement.)
So yeah, the kissing-request thing happened a lot. Occasionally we agreed to let them, if they were particularly cute. I was so randy I was hungry for sexual simulation pretty much 24/7. And really, guys were pretty irresistibly cute on campus lately thanks to the big video-embedded hotness boost the twins had given their fans, not to mention the microboosts they snuck into their social media threads.
One morning (after my usual orgasm-all-over-the-mirror thing and the clean-up and shower-fucking that always followed) I suggested to Travis and Trent that I try wandering around alone for a bit, just to see if the effects I seemed to have on the guys were different if they weren’t around. They happily agreed, and so that afternoon, while the twins were in their conversational French class, I nipped out and started randomly roaming the leafy paths between the various building-clusters. Sure enough, I started gathering a literal following of guys who were uncontrollably attracted to me and needed to get close, at least for a while. Some broke away periodically and, most likely, found a bathroom or a quiet corner to flog their cocks to fruitful spurting over me. Just the thought made my own always-ready cocks swell to three-quarters hard as I wandered, feeling oddly alone despite my fan-posse.
The south end of campus had a nice arboretum that bordered on a calm little lake, so I headed that way, a dozen or so admirers in tow. By the time I got there my following had grown to about twenty guys, almost all of them obviously hotness-boosted and many of them having clearly achieved the T&T fan-club’s double-cock tier. One was double-torsoed like me, I noticed: a cute-and-sexy nerd type, taller than I was and built, though his physique was more in the slim-but-muscled direction.
There were some benches on a little lead-strewn rise overlooking the lake, most of them unoccupied with afternoon classes in session, and I found one and sat down, surreptitiously adjusting my hard-ons as best I could so I could sit comfortably. I settled my Travis-torso heavily against my Trent-torso with a barely suppressed sigh of contentment, my cocks flexing happily at their favorite sensation.
My admirers gathered around in front of me maybe ten feet away in a sort of crescent, like an audience, just staring contentedly at me like they were drinking me in. I smiled sheepishly while pretending to look out at the lake as if they weren’t there, a little abashed without the extremely extroverted twins to run interference for me. A few of them raised their phones tentatively, watching to see if I would object; when I didn’t, they smiled and lifted them up all the way, and more and more of them started filming or taking pictures. I have to say, just knowing that they were shooting me at least partly so they (and their followers, because some of them were definitely livestreaming) would have something to jack off to later, again and again, kind of did a number on me. That level of carnal appreciation was not something I had ever experienced, even back when I was a young and reasonably hunky witchling. I think I was blushing, setting there on my bench, and I definitely felt warm all through my body despite the mild breeze playing with my hair and ruffling my skin-tight, sleeveless tees (dark saturated green and brown today—another gift, from T&T themselves this time).
After a while some of the guys smiled their thanks and drifted off, gripping their hard-ons through their pants; others stayed, happy to drink me in indefinitely, it seemed. I closed my eyes and meditated, letting tranquility ripple irresistibly through me as the breeze played over my body. I realized I wasn’t used to being alone any more, and several different reactions to that came to me from different corners of my brain. On the one hand, it was a welcome change to be on my own for a little while after days—weeks?—with the twins. I was always pretty solitary before, and being by myself felt like home in a weird way—not that I was exactly “alone” in the strictest sense, of course.
A big part of me, though, genuinely missed Travis and Trent, almost like a physical ache, and that led to some mildly alarmed speculation that I actually might be falling for these guys; or, perhaps worse, that I was becoming addicted to the louche pleasures the three of us shared day in and day out. Either one was bad news—I was supposed to be investigating these two, remember? My stomach fluttered slightly in guilt at that.
After some time had passed I felt a presence on the bench to my left, so I opened my eyes and turned to see the double-torsoed sexynerd setting next to me, close by but not quite touching. Our arms’ juxtaposition flagged how much paler he was than I was and how powerfully sculpted my bod was by comparison, though he was attractively lean and incredibly defined, with nice arms and a visibly, if slightly, protruding chest under his loose blue pocket tees. His faces were longer than they were round, with bright hazel eyes and very defined jaws and cheekbones. His cautious smiles were absolutely adorable and made him so cute my dicks actually squeezed in response.
I glanced curiously toward where the crowd had been. There were just two guys there now, both filming the scene. Their eyes weren’t on their screens, though—they were watching my new friend, their expressions suggesting a kind of proprietary fondness. They had to be his boyfriends, I realized. The double-torso thing only happened when two guys were into you and wanted to share you. Just like it had for me.
I looked back at my double-torsoed friend. He was looking at me, too. Well, not exactly at me, so much as at my lips specifically. Seeing that tried and true response to my looks even from a fellow double-torso guy I had to smile, and his smiles widened a little too.
Well… why not? I thought. I did feel like kissing (but then I always did). Plus he was very cute, and I hadn’t actually made out with another double-torso dude yet.
I met his gaze and give him a little nod. His eyes widened a little in surprise, just for a second, and then he moved in quickly, like I might change my mind. My mouths met his, and we kissed softly, two mouths against two mouths.
After a few minutes of pleasure he pulled back, eyes bright with pleasure, and gave me another shy smile. I glanced over at the boyfriends, who had their arms around each other’s waists, still filming and watching their shared boyfriend with affectionate pride. I smiled back at my kissing partner and gave him another quick, sexy kiss. When I pulled back he was beaming gratefully at me.
He ducked his heads a second, then met my gaze again. “I’ve never kissed another split before,” he confessed.
That was my first time hearing the word that was slowly going around for guys like us. I filed it away for later documentation. “Me neither,” I admitted.
He seemed surprised, his eyebrows lifting, then a look of self-satisfaction crossed his face—evidently he’d decided to take my choosing him for my first “split” kiss as a compliment, which it definitely was. Looking quickly over at his boyfriends, he then offered me another shy smile in thanks before standing. He didn’t leave right away though, lingering instead for a parting remark.
“I don’t know why the split happened to me particularly,” he said with a grin, “but after that kiss I sure am extra-glad it did.”
I watched him gather his excited boyfriends and walk off with them together, the three of them giving me a flurry of quick, jubilant waves before disappearing into the woods, leaving me alone at last. I stared after them, aware that something that had been niggling at me was finally surfacing so I could get a real look at it.
Normally, the transformations the twins embedded in their videos worked with a this-is-normal reality retcon that made the effects unremarkable. No one thought it was odd to get two big cocks from watching a particular video a certain number of times, for example. Likewise, as far as I had observed, it was considered completely mundane for a guy with two boyfriends to end up “splitting”, so that he had two torsos, or even two bodies; that was just something that happened if two admirers kissed their mutual dream guy while watching the video.
With all of the other changes I’d recorded and analyzed, I had maintained objective awareness thanks to a routine awareness-persistence charm I invoked at the start of each session, precisely to counter the perception filter effect I’d already detected in the video substructure. Because of that, I was used to remaining aware of changes everyone else was oblivious to, so I didn’t notice at first when it shouldn’t have happened.
When the twins performed the split on me, I didn’t have the chance to activate the charm. I should have been suckered into the same obliviousness that all the other “splits” experienced, and thought that the twins’ shared desire for me had triggered a natural semi- or full-mitosis effect. I already knew the twins’ magic was powerful enough to take in the most advanced mage, as several case files involving now-obliviously-double-cocked members of the Plenary Council will amply demonstrate. I should have been snookered by the split, just like they were for the cock-doubling. So, did the twins make an exception for me and leave me aware? And if so… why?
There were other issues, too, ones I hadn’t been letting myself think about. All these days of heavenly hedonism, and neither the twins nor I had ever once questioned that I was spending almost literally every moment with them. No talk of my own concerns, no mention of my own classes or friends or family, no checking in about when I needed to report in for the pizza delivery job that had provided the actual context for our first meeting. Of course, I knew that Liam the weirdly alluring college student and his pie-toting gig were both completely fraudulent—but they didn’t. So how were the twins not raising an eyebrow at my suddenly having no life but them?
I considered both problems soberly for the first time, sitting there on that park bench with the gentle breeze whiffing over me in happy little gusts, and my heart sank as I realized I could think of only one answer. Trent and Travis knew who I was. They’d been playing me from the beginning. And the pang I felt as I considered that told me something else I didn’t want to know.
I really was falling for them.
Fuck, I was so hard. Just seeing how alluring I was reflected in my kissing partner’s awed, lusty expression had brought me close to the edge. Barely hesitating—I was alone, wasn’t I?—I stood up, unbuttoned my trousers (with difficulty), and freed my trapped monster hard-ons. Immediately I began fisting them four-handed, needing urgently to get off. I half-wished my new friend hadn’t left so quickly, but then I thought about the twins… and no sooner had I done so, than I felt their talented mouths wrapped enthusiastically around my massive, extra-hard and badly leaking cocks. Fuck, that spell was the gift that kept on giving.
I lolled my front head back so that my cheeks were brushing together, the slight friction of dual afternoon stubble making the moving contact feel like fine sandpaper. Letting my hands fall away I gave in to the oral ministrations magically pleasuring my raging erections. Instead I started mindlessly feeling up from front pecs and abs with all four hands as I twisted enough to share a sloppy, half-sideways kiss between my two panting mouths. Fuuck, I was so close. The ghostly mouths of my twin lovers worked feverishly on my cocks with impossible skill—it almost felt like more mouths were sucking and licking the sides of my huge shafts than just the two I was used to, the compound sensations rendering me almost senseless with pleasure. I contorted more to be able to kiss myself properly, sinking my greedy tongues into my hot, welcoming mouths as I rocketed madly to the edge. Suddenly I shuddered and everything went white, and my body became one massive orgasm exploding across eternity. I came gasping from both cocks, unbearably potent euphoria shooting through me like rifle fire and shattering into the unknown. Another ecstatic seizure hit me, and another, another, like I would never stop cumming.
After a while I regained enough awareness to realize I was gripping my own shoulders somehow, twice over. When I opened my eyes I was looking dazedly at my own too-beautiful, cock-hardening face. Just from the sight of myself I came again, almost dry, unable to help my own visceral reaction.
I tried to make sense of what I was seeing and feeling. I had been twisting around to kiss myself, so it sort of made sense for me to see my own face, but… I wasn’t twisted around. I was looking at myself dead on, from both directions, and that did not make sense.
I blinked, trying to grasp as reason through my floating euphoria, which felt like trying to nab a bar of soap in a full bathtub. I took a step back… with both bodies.
Later I was able to come up with a theory to explain what had happened. In the original video starring yours truly, the twins had left open the question of whether my final form would be the partial split (two upper halves merged at the waist) or two actual bodies. The ambiguity was reflected in the splits that happened out in the world, which was more or less evenly divided between them. In my case, the twins must have secretly embedded a trigger within my own personal split, just for me, so that if I ever tried to kiss myself—something I hadn’t attempted before today—the partial divide would complete and finalize as a full one, and I’d end up with the two-body version of the split instead of one-body-with-two-torsos version. Thus the choice between the two options, partial or full, would be made. Presumably the pretext was so I’d be able to kiss myself properly, face to face, something I was sure the twins (and their fans) would enjoy. That part was kind of funny.
So, yeah, it was a good theory. There was only one problem, which was that I now had two bodies… both of which were also two-torsoed.
I gaped at myself for several long minutes, all four mouths hanging open. Then I realized that staring at my magnetically sexy, orgasm-triggering beauty, even just for a few seconds, had made me more desperately horny than ever. I fell into a crazy double kiss as I rutted my cocks against myself, groping my fantastically muscled body with too many hands, and before long I was cumming even more spectacularly than I had only moments before.
I clutched myself tight, almost desperately, panting and sweaty and wet with cum, keeping my eyes carefully closed as I kept myself floating on the endless pleasure of my strange new form. Hot breath fell on my own neck—a turn-on all by itself, but calming, too. Powerful arms held me close, while long, muscular legs rubbed along each other’s jeans-clad length. Pecs pressed hard against pecs and against broad upper backs as well, in a miniature orgy of full-on torso contact. Actually—fuck, were my pecs a little bigger than before? They were, right? The cockheads jostling the lower reaches of my cleavage told me my dicks sure were.
Fuck, I thought, enjoying the embrace as long as I could before my revised reality inevitably had to be dealt with. And I thought things were weird before…