Glitch

by BRK

Undercover as a university student inside a thriving, all-gay digital community, Torin starts experiencing unexplained, universe-wide glitches that progressively and seamlessly change Torin and everyone around him.

Added: 12 Dec 2020 8,904 words 1,539 views 5.0 stars (2 votes)

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T
Torin felt the glitch coming this time. It was like a buildup of static electricity all around him that seemed to rapidly swell up, intensify, and—zzzt!

Everything changed.

Not that anyone else in the noisy dining hall noticed. Not the glitch, or the change. He was sure they didn’t feel the glitch—only he did. And he was the only one who noticed that change.

That was the truly uncanny part. Last time, the day before, he hadn’t been sure. The change had been minor. An extra finger on every hand, including both of Torin’s, and a matching extra toe for each foot. He almost hadn’t noticed himself, walking across campus and enjoying the bright sunny day and the lightly fragrant wind in the tall leafy trees. Then one of his classmates came out of the music building as he passed and waved a cheery hello to him, wiggling all six fingers… and Tolan had bemusedly returned the gesture, not quite sure what he was seeing. Only an afternoon’s investigation—scoping out everyone in his classes, watching videos, looking up the anatomy of the human hand and foot—had convinced him that everyone had more fingers and toes now, and that only he knew that someone or something was fucking with the baseline of normality.

Yesterday he’d almost missed it. This time, though, it was impossible not to notice. And yet, no one had—no one but Torin.

It was such a huge change the universal obliviousness seemed utterly impossible. Before the glitch, everyone had two legs. After the glitch? Three legs each. On everyone. Torin included. How had no one noticed? And if not noticing was universal, how was he the exception?

And there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Torin was deep undercover inside the oldest gay virtual community in all of NextEarth, and his next contact/data-drop with his handler for any reason was not for another eight days.

Torin squirmed where he sat, shifting his outer legs nervously against his middle leg in a manner that already felt weirdly natural. Were there built-in, pre-programmed behaviors piggybacked on these glitches? There must be, he thought, watching closely as the masses filling the dining hall walked around on three legs without giving their proliferated legs the barest thought. Most walked outer, middle, outer, middle, he noticed—but that dark-haired jock over there and his buddy were walking left, middle, right, left, middle, right. Was that something you learned, or—?

“Hey, Tor, you okay?” asked the attractive ginger sitting next to him. Of course, everyone in Mountain View was good-looking, with pleasing, fit proportions and faces ranging from adorably cute to devastatingly handsome; so “attractive” was to be expected. Even Torin, whose secret double life required him to be inconspicuous, had ended up with suave, olive-skinned good looks and an impressively fit body, not to mention short but lush black hair over dark and sexy eyebrows, sexy stubble that seemed to crop up no matter how often he shaved, and the kind of compelling, lopsided, lightly dimpled smile that got a lot of people’s blood racing, Torin’s included.

But there was attractive, and then there was attractive. And as it turned out, Torin’s deep cover had placed him in a dorm suite with Brick, one of the rare types that Torin’s superiors, in their pre-mission briefing, had labeled a level-1 Adonis-A. The Adonis-As were scattered through the thriving syn-com, and they were, to a man, so intensely alluring that just looking at them forced you to bone up under almost any circumstances. Sure enough, turning to smile reassuringly at Brick Torin got a full blast of his friend’s deeply radiant man-beauty, spurring instant, raging ten-inch boners in—uh, okay, this was new, both his crotches.

What you noticed first about Brick—what Torin always noticed first, anyway—were his eyes. They were a rare, rich amber color, almost to the point of being a ripe mango yellow-orange, and they were, or at least seemed to be, a little brighter than normal. It was almost as if Brick’s well-crafted exterior couldn’t quite contain his limitless inner reservoir of radiant, inhuman allure and a tiny proportion of it surfaced in his bright, mango-orange eyes. There was nothing too incredibly unusual about the shape and planes of his tanned face or his mobile mouth or the arch of his flame-red eyebrows; just that they were perfect in a way that settled into your bones, like the proportions of his slightly uncanny athlete’s physique, or the resonant, buzz-in-your-heart timber of his rich, friendly baritone.

Torin’s dicks were fully hard now, having shifted from mostly soft to hot and rigid with a bare few seconds of eye contact. Torin had learned early on in his mission to always wear very loose jeans and no underwear for this express reason, as the alternative, if he was unlucky, might end up being the urgent, painful discomfort of a strangled boner. At least the glitch had carried over his baggy jeans into an equally loose and similarly red-hot-boner-friendly three-legged version. Thanks, glitch, that was helpful, he thought grimly.

His roommate was still waiting for his response. “I’m good, Brick,” he insisted. He forced himself not to glance down to see what Brick’s new lower half looked like, and whether making visual contact with it would make him spontaneously jizz in his pants like the first sight of Brick’s perfect legs and suggestive bulge had done almost eight weeks back. He’d find out about Brick’s newest parameters soon enough, anyway. Brick still seemed concerned, though, so he fished for an explanation for his sudden distraction. “I was just, uh…” He sent his gaze back to the buffets on the other side of the dining hall, all of them mobbed with hot three-legged students, as if that had been what had had his attention the whole time. “…Just trying to figure out if I want dessert or not,” he finished, trying more or less successfully to sound like he had no dilemmas on his mind more serious than whether to stand in line for a square of devil’s food sheet cake.

Brick glanced dismissively in the same direction, then shook his head at Torin with a blazing smile. “Forget that!” he said, slapping Torin’s back with a six-fingered hand and leaving it there, rubbing the middle of Torin’s muscular back. Some set of rules buried deep in everyone’s psyche ensured Adonis-As could touch you (and often did, as they tended to be extra-friendly sorts), but you didn’t touch them without an invitation. “I got homemade cherry-rum pie from my brother’s restaurant back at the suite. C’mon!” He got up, grabbing his tray, and Torin could only follow suit, trailing Brick to the tray return and trying not to stare too hard at his firm, perfectly rounded triple ass, or at all the guys hurriedly reaching into their pants with both hands to straighten out suddenly stiffening cocks as they passed.


Their other suitemates were just getting back from afternoon classes, so they all had pie together. One of these was Yun, an extra-tall, slim but very fit, and strikingly good-looking Chinese guy in school on a piano fellowship. Torin had been burning to see him play since the first glitch had changed everyone’s finger count. The other was Kristof, a cute, easy-going boy-next-door type with long, dirty blond hair, alert hazel eyes, and creamy alabaster skin a good two shades lighter than the others, ginger Brick included. He was also unlike the others in that he never exercised or worked out, a pastime as that was otherwise as routine as studying and sleeping for students at Mountain View State, and didn’t seem to notice he was as naturally well-muscled as he was casually brilliant in his classwork, with a pronounced chest, wide, bulging shoulders, a noticeable lat flare, and hard, corded arms. The others wore close-fitting tees and snug jeans that tended to accentuate their physiques—even Yun, who fell more under a category like “defined” and “pleasingly proportioned” than Torin’s “built” or Brick’s “idealized athlete”; but Kristof always wore baggy cargo pants and loose band tees a size larger than he needed, so that only now and again, when he shifted a certain way, did they cling tantalizingly to the rounded contours of his firm, thick, un-gymmed pecs.

Brick started dishing out slices from a big, salivatingly delicious-looking cherry pie in the keeper on the counter; as he did so Kristof, who’d been fixated on obscure coffees lately, pulled down a jar of his latest find, a smooth dark with the unlikely name of Moon Lover, and scooped the beans into the grind-and-brew, while Torin and Yun sat down around the kitchen island, adjusting their boners out of habit as they slid their cheeks onto their stools. These were slightly wider than they had been a few hours earlier, Torin noticed, to accommodate the compact trio of cheeks everyone now had.

With his left hand Torin reached for the unobtrusive console built into the island and keyed up some quiet neopop from a band he was into lately, following the movements of his long, lightly hairy fingers as he did so. His body was reacting to having extra digits, and a middle leg too, as though he’d had them his whole life, just like everyone else in this fluctuating reality. Torin silently drummed the fingers on his left hand deliberately in time to the cascading background music he’d started, watching them intently. Thumb, one, two, three, four, five. Thumb, one, two, three, four, five.

His mind raced. The three-legged jeans, the reproportioned stools—what else was being seamlessly retconned with these transformational shifts? Was everything in base-twelve now that people had six digits a hand? He didn’t think so—he hadn’t noticed any strange numbers on the elevator buttons, and he and his suitemates still lived on the 14th floor of Kratos Tower. Were more sweeping changes to human behavior consequent to the changes excluded from the shifts, or would they ripple in later? Torin was a cop, not a physicist, but it seemed possible to him: their reality was self-contained, so changes could be engineered to progress and build so that they affected everything and always, while still remaining within measurable, calculable parameters. The repercussions might expand wave by wave through the whole of their finite space-time universe, leaving Torin’s world unrecognizable compared to his first arrival. Was that what he had before him in the days ahead? Perhaps even more important than what would happen was how it was happening in the first place, and why. And… was there a who? Was all of this deliberate, or was their reality stuttering, producing changes as randomly as hiccups, or the flip of a coin? Except those things were not truly random, either, only unguided by conscious intent. Was there a pattern to be discovered causing twitches in the fabric of time and space, or was there a person choosing to make these changes…?

Torin was distracted from his circling thoughts as Yun, on the stool to his right, began exhibiting his usual nervous reaction to the intense arousal Brick provoked in them, which was to become unconsciously handsy with whoever was nearby that wasn’t an Adonis-A. Usually it ended up being Torin, somehow. Why Yun did this Torin wasn’t sure, since he was pretty confident that Yun stroking Torin’s nicely muscled right leg, as he was now, probably only served to deepen Yun’s arousal problem. (That was certainly the effect it was having on Torin, anyway.) Yun got self-conscious when any attention was called to such behavior, though, so Torin did his best to ignore it, as usual. Torin realized he was translating his own sexual tension into fidgeting his middle leg slightly between his outer ones, enjoying the light friction even though it, too, was adding to his pleasure-stimulation. Plus the shifting of his legs was making his precum-slicked cockheads slide back and forth minutely against his skin and the insides of his loose jeans. Maybe he wasn’t one to judge how Yun handled his own arousal.

Brick was passing out hefty, photo-spread-worthy slices of pie, the proximity speeding up Yun’s unknowing caresses a bit, while Kristof handed mugs of fragrant coffee to them over the kitchen island. He glanced at the preoccupied Yun and then winked at Torin as he set his mug in front of him. He knew what Yun was probably up to, not that he wasn’t just as turned on. Torin just shook his head and smiled in mock exasperation as Kristof sat, adjusting his own long erections as he did so just as the other had.

The pie was delicious as usual—Brick’s younger brother’s local renown as an up-and-coming pastry chef was well-deserved—and they dug into their thick, gooey slices of cherry goodness with enthusiasm, helped down by Kristof’s aptly complementary joe. Torin tried not to let Brick’s semi-orgasmic hums and moans as he ate shove him closer to the edge of climax than he needed to be. Yun’s strokes on his long thigh turning into a firm, clenched grip told him his suitemate was having the same problem, while the milky-skinned Kristof was looking warm and slightly pink—he was feeling the Brick-effects as intensely as they were. To distract them all, Torin eventually asked, “Hey, Yun, when’s your next recital? I’d really love to hear you play again.” And see you play as well, he added inwardly.

“Oh!” Yun said, smiling. He took a last bite of his pie and swallowed, thinking, and his hand quickly relaxed on Torin’s thigh as his mind shifted to his true passion. “There’s… a formal recital in two weeks,” he said, setting his fork down and resting his other hand on his middle leg, though he didn’t start slowly feeling up his own thigh like he was now doing again with Torin’s. “But,” he added brightly, looking around the group, “tomorrow there’s a screaming piano battle tomorrow at the Ledge. You all can def come to that!”

“A screaming piano battle?” Kristof echoed, sounding amused. He set his fork down as well—they were finished except for Torin, who hadn’t suppressed a tendency to dawdle over the captivating, intensely flavorful fare they had here in Mountain View. Kristof’s color, meanwhile, was fading back toward his usual sheet white, so he was evidently also appreciating the distraction. Brick just listened, watching them as he usually did, as though just being around people was all he needed. “What, like you play thrash metal songs instead of concertos or something?” Kristof teased.

“Naw,” Yun said, explaining excitedly. “Like, three of us sit at pianos and play old bawdy songs or pop ballads, whatever. We each play the same song, only each of us tries to throw the others off by changing tempos and keys and stuff. And the crowd eggs us on by shouting and screaming or singing the wrong song, stuff like that. Then sat the end they cheer for whoever they think won—and that person has to do a forfeit, like drinking a whole pint of dark ale!”

“And then what?” Brick asked, managing to make the innocent question sound just slightly sexual.

Yun smiled crookedly. He was a little bolder talking about his area of expertise. “Round two,” he answered, holding Brick’s gaze. His hand gave Torin’s thigh a long stroke, and when Brick cleaned the last of the thick cherry goo off his fork, sliding the metal tines slowly back out between his perfect white teeth, Yun’s hand stopped and splayed.

“Well!” Torin said abruptly, pushing his red-smeared plate and fork into the autoclean in the center of the island, the others following suit. “I’ve got a paper on macroeconomics to write.” He started to get up.

“Screw that,” Kristof cut in. Though he was deadly serious about his long-term career goals—he was pre-med, and planned to be a neurosurgeon someday—Kristof’s easy aptitude allowed him to seek out fun and frivolity as often as he could, and on Friday nights he could usually get his suitemates to join in with him. As he stood his long hair shifted, and pushed his extra-fingered hand through it to push it back out of the way. “We are going dancing tonight—and you have to come, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome,” he announced, coming around behind Torin and placing his warm, strong six-fingered hands on Torin’s shoulders, making his cocks surge reflexively. “You’ve been attracting the hottest guys with those perfect buns of yours lately,” Kristof continued, “and Yun and I deserve a chance at reaping the rewards.”

Torin looked up at him over his shoulder, an eyebrow arched in disbelief. “I… think you have me confused with someone else,” he drawled. He didn’t have to say who.

“Pfft,” Kristof said. He bent and stage-whispered, “You know no one thinks they have a chance with him. He hunts, like a shark.” Brick smiled, not denying it, and Kristof straightened up and went on in a normal voice. “Your butt, though,” he said. “It’s like a beacon, drawing us all like moths to flame.” Kristof squeezed Torin’s shoulders, causing his cocks to flex again in his lap. Torin snorted.

“It’s true,” Brick agreed expectedly. “You are developing a very inviting ass.”

Torin blinked at him. Don’t think about him fucking you slow and deep… with two big cocks… deep in both your tight, virgin asses… Torin forgot to breathe for a second as he stared at Brick’s handsome face and his ghost of a smile; but that was a common enough occurrence for them around Brick.

“It’s settled, then,” Kristof said decisively. No one messed with his play time, and he knew it. “Yun, you in?”

“Absolutely,” Yun said quickly, squeezing Torin’s thigh.
Kristof had a number of favorite hangouts, but the steamiest of these, and the venue for that night’s festivities, was a huge converted hangar near campus called Waldo Fine. Waldo’s boasted a state-of-the-art sound and video system; the hottest staff all decked out (from the waist down) in bright secondary colors; vastly high, color-dappled ceilings that made the space seem like a pocket dimension; and a dance floor bigger than the school’s championship soccer field and the stadium around it, always packed with a shifting mass of writhing, happy, good-looking men.

They checked their shirts at the door, Torin surrendering his soft black tee with bemusement to the winking attendant. They’d started the shirt check as a joke on the first April Fool’s Day after Torin had arrived, but the resulting ocean of buff, beautiful seminudity, combined with the added practical benefit of not having to worry about keeping track of them for the guys who hauled their tops off anyway, made the policy so popular with the club’s patronage that they’d made the shirt check permanent. A lot of guys had started coming to Waldo’s with their shirts left behind at home, an easy enough decision in Mountain View’s year-round temperate clime, though to Torin there was something about giving up your shirt on entry that appealed to him. It created a deliberate transition that made the space within more of an indulgence—a secret sanctum of male hotness and uninhibited carnality that was at a useful and necessary remove from the ordinary, mundane world.

Torin watched as Kristof, bringing up the rear of their little group, handed his Lovers All Tour tee over with an indifferent shrug and paid the cover for them, then they all headed into the shifting lights and pounding noise of the club.

Shirtless men of all colors and descriptions ebbed and flowed around them. They came to the edge of the dance floor, and Torin glanced up at Yun, who was beaming. Where Kristof was the type of fun-loving guy to be at his most comfortable and at home in a party atmosphere like this, dialing down to his core level of ease and relaxation, Yun was a stimulation junkie and enjoyed being surrounded by energy and people so much he tended to ration out his own exposure to it, afraid of wanting it too much. Fortunately, performing in concert, or taking part in the creation of vigorous music in any context, was as intense a rush for him as going out dancing or cheering on the home team at a soccer match. Torin truly enjoyed seeing him happy. “Ready to have some fun, big guy?” he asked.

Yun gave him a goony grin, at the same time looking slightly abashed. He might be nearly a foot taller than his three friends, but he always seemed surprised when it came up. Which, of course, only made Torin want to tease him mercilessly about it.

Yun was already moving his shoulders to the thump of whatever song was playing, and instead of answering he just grabbed Torin’s forearm and pulled him into the throng, Kristof and Brick following.


Torin soon found himself in a sea of men, all gyrating to loud, vibrant, enchanting melodic dance music that seemed to be emanating from somewhere deep inside him and everyone else on the floor. Sweat-damp torsos slid against his. His friends were nearby—through a parting of the crowd he spotted Brick sliding his hands over a muscled twink’s bare shoulders, causing the ecstatic purple-haired boy-hunk to eagerly reciprocate, with another recruit, this one just as buff but more compact with more conventional black hair in a half-buzz, behind Brick with a huge grin and an almost dazed expression of sexual arousal. But they seldom stayed together when they were clubbing. They’d agreed early on not to complicate things by fucking each other, and anyway their tastes were fairly different. Though he was incredibly turned on by Brick, just as they all were, Torin’s usual type was someone thicker and a bit hairier than he was; Brick went for guys as close to his own hairless, sculpted hotness as himself (Torin speculated that Brick’s ultimate type was probably Brick himself); Kristof seemed to like several different kinds of guys, with no preference as far as Torin could tell; and Yun liked, well, tall, dark-haired, olive-skinned, stubbly hunks with impressive asses. On five previous nights out Torin had caught sight of Yun dancing or flirting with guys who could have been Torin’s brother, or even his clone. How aware of this Yun was Torin still had no idea.

A hand slid sensually along Torin’s flank, and he smiled at the burly, hairy-chested and extremely handsome stud in front of him. No—make that extremely handsome studs. Torin had been slowly noticing that, in contrast to the coupling he was used to on dance floors, tonight everyone seemed to be writhing in clusters of three. Brick usually pulled two at a time, but tonight… He looked around him. Everyone, and it truly was everyone, was moving to the music in groups of three. Some were face to face (to face), while others had two guys sandwiching a third, usually the best-looking or most attractive of the trio.

Torin looked back at his own conquests. He was closer now to the thick-muscled, furry, blue-eyed and goateed stunner with the questing hand, and as the masses shifted around them Torin found himself closer still, the hand sliding easily onto Torin’s left butt-cheek. Meanwhile the other man—even thicker and darker than the first guy, though with his short hair dyed bleach-blond for some reason—was now right behind Torin, his hands on Torin’s hips. Now he was the one being sandwiched, Torin thought. Did that make him the hottie? He found the idea difficult to accept. They were both more impressively swole than he was, after all, with perfectly proportioned bodies full of corded muscle Torin couldn’t wait to get his hands on.

They danced on, barely noticing the hundreds of sexy, libidinous men around them. The bleached blond behind him gyrated closer, bringing his erections in contact with the creases of Torin’s ass as though the two layers of denim between them might melt away at any moment. At the same time his protruding pecs brushed against Torin’s shoulder blades. Blue-eyes in front of him moved closer too, so that his fat hard-ons were suddenly pressed firmly against Torin’s own, his hand sliding up on to Torin’s lower back as the three of them danced as one. He could taste the other man’s breath—cinnamon and whisky. Their eyes met, and Torin could see the hunger.

Blue-eyes glanced behind Torin, making eye-contact briefly with the bleach-blond stud grinding his cocks gently against Torin’s ass. The music shifted suddenly, becoming faster and more intense.

Blue-eyes brought his lips to Torin’s ear. “D’you want to go out back with us?” he asked, his query just audible over the frenetic soundtrack.

“Out back” meant the much darker and quieter secondary space in the rear of the building behind the main club where make-outs and blow-jobs (but nothing more serious than that, per the house rules) were a nightly occurrence. And then, in that moment, Torin suddenly understood. He’d been thinking tentatively that the tripling-up thing was somehow related to everyone having three legs now. But, of course—it was that everyone had two dicks to suck off now instead of one. If he went “out back” with his two studs, they’d kneel down together in front of him and give him a double-blow job, just like the scores of double blow-jobs that were probably happening back there right now at this very moment.

Suddenly, and without any warning, Torin was close. His cocks twitched and jumped against the hard-ons being pressed against them, and blue-eyes instinctively pulled the three of them closer, still shifting to the music as Torin fought off a colossal orgasm.

That’s when it happened.

Something in the air seemed to snap almost imperceptibly, but Torin felt it, even in the midst of this welter of overstimulation—and then, all at once, instead of big, thick boners barely contained by their pants, Torin and everyone else abruptly had enormous, steel-hard wangs no pants could possibly contain. Torin’s own healthy pricks went from nine inches hard and two fingers thick, a size that, positioned straight up, had had them almost poking over the waistband, to (he measured later) fifteen fucking inches each and wrist-thick, jutting indomitably up out of his pants and drooling copiously all over his hard-carved, fuzzy eight-pack. Not only that, but his two newly gargantuan erections were pressing skin to skin and head to precum-slick head against a pair of enormous iron-hard cocks even wider than Torin’s—while, at the same time, two equally monumental raging hard cocks rocked against the cracks of Torin’s ass through his tight, butt-hugging jeans, the heads sliding urgently against Torin’s bare lower back.

Torin stared at his blue-eyed, hairy muscle-hunk with wide eyes. The other guy grinned, instantly understanding, and dove in for a kiss as the three men hugged each other tight, right there in the middle of the dance floor. Torin started cumming uncontrollably, shooting arcs of hot spunk onto his and his partner’s abs and chest as Torin gasped into the kiss, and suddenly the other two were cumming too, the three of them sharing a massive public orgasm to the thrum of the dance music and amidst the heat of a thousand impossibly beautiful men. The sensation of fresh, hot jizz painting his back and his front made Torin try to cum even harder, as the music seemed to shift again into something solid and steady. The three of them kept on holding each other tight as their climaxes peaked and ebbed, and though a few dancers around them laughed and clapped no one seemed to care too much.

Torin regained his breath enough to give blue-eyes another kiss. The nameless man grinned at him, then spoke into his ear again. “I should have seen you were too far gone to make it to the back,” he said. The bleached blond chucked as he kissed Torin’s neck.

“Sorry,” Torin mouthed, when blue-eyes pulled back. He just smiled and winked, then nodded his head toward the back, renewing the invitation, his brows arched in question. Torin leaned in and said into the other man’s ear, “Maybe next time?”

When he pulled back, the other man nodded, and the three of them danced and made out for a while. Torin, however, realized he was parched, and with a few final kisses for both of his guys he took his leave and headed for the bar. On thew long journey across the vast, crowded club he tried very hard not to be self-conscious about his bare, sweaty, muscular torso being covered in smelly spunk, or the two impossible-to-ignore erections thrusting tall and huge out of his jeans and pushing the waistband out from his tight waist; but everyone else had the same exposed erections, and Torin even spotted a few guys here and there painted with streaks of damp or drying cum, as if the occasional inability to contain your orgasms was a natural by-product of being huge-cocked, achingly hard, and surrounded by countless, sweaty, dancing twinks, bears, and muscle-hunks.

He got to the bar and, after wading through the ranks of people, he caught the attention of the bartender—a blond, sweet-smiling Adonis-A, as it turned out, with a physique slightly more developed than Brick’s and two enormous uncut cocks that seemed to be straining to reach the guy’s impressively ponderous pecs emerging from vivid purple, snug-fitting pants. Seeing this guy without warning gave Torin a fresh twinge of violent arousal even through his post-orgasmic haze, and his pricks would have immediately stiffened up again, if they hadn’t been rock-hard already.

The bartender grinned and nodded down at Torin’s tall, fat, unrelenting cocks. “Nice ones!” he said.

Torin stared at him for a second. “Uh—thanks!” he said. “Yours too!” The sound of the music was field-dampened enough here there it was just background noise, so there was no need to shout his awkward reply, which Torin appreciated.

The bartender wiggled his eyebrows in acknowledgement. “What can I get you?”

“Bottle of cold water?” Torin said.

The bartender nodded. “Be right back with that. Damp towels at the end of the bar,” he added, pointing with his chin before turning his broad back to Torin and heading down the bar in the other direction.

The way he said it made it seem like it was a rote reminder to all his customers, but Torin didn’t quite get it. Momentarily mystified, he moved in the direction indicated. At the end of the long, busy bar he found, sure enough, a row of dispense-boxes that gave out warm, slightly damp towels about a half-meter square. Next to them was a deep, narrow bin, currently about half-full, to toss the used towels in. The contents smelled like a heady mix of spunk mixed with sweat.

“Huh,” Torin said. He took one and started wiping down his chest and abs, wishing one of his buddies was around to get his back. As he worked, a lanky, red-faced guy with damp, strawberry blond hair and a big grin came up and started doing the same. Torin tried not to stare—though they were not even half as thick as Torin’s, the guy’s cocks were easily the longest he’d seen yet, topping out halfway up his long, almost ten-pack abs.

“These guys, they just won’t stop,” he said conversationally. “Hey, can you get my back? I’ll do yours too,” he added.

Torin agreed wordlessly, and soon they were all cleaned up. Tossing their towels in the bin, Torin turned found his water waiting for him on the bar, the Adonis-A bartender tossing him another wink as he moved off. He took a swig and watched as the lanky guy with the long cocks grab two more towels from the dispense-box and drape them over his hard-ons. “They’re so leaky anyway,” he explained happily. “I might as well try it this way!” Then he was gone, before Torin could even wish him good luck.

Torin intended to sit the rest of the night out, feeling a little overwhelmed by the changes, but he ran into a pair of platinum-blond Adonis-B brothers at the bar, almost alike enough to be twins (supposedly, lookalike brothers and twins were both very common among Adonis Bs, who weren’t quite as instantly arousing as the Adonis-As but instead tended to cause an intense and hard-to-ignore need to kiss them). The two of them dragged him back to the dance floor with them; this time Torin managed to hold off cumming for almost 20 minutes of serious sandwiching and rhythmic kissing, and the next time nearly fifteen. The two laughingly helped wipe him down afterwards, though Torin unexpectedly came again watching them clean each other, spitting huge quantities of cum he shouldn’t have had all over his chest and belly for the fourth time that night. The brothers laughed and handed him a new towel before disappearing into the crowd, and Torin shook his head and started scrubbing cum out of his chest hair all over again.

Just as he was finishing, Kristof found him. Torin glanced down his muscular torso to see if Kristof was packing big guns like the rest of them. Sure enough, Kristof’s rigid, uncut cocks were standing tall out of his baggy trousers, both listing to the left and, while not as long as Torin’s raging boners, they were even thicker than his were.

“I thought I’d find you with the cum-rags,” Kristof said cheerily. “How many times did you nut yourself on the floor tonight?”

Torin grimaced and tossed the towel in the bin. “Three,” he said. Kristof seemed to sense he was holding something back, though, and Torin decided the last one probably counted too. “Or four,” he amended.

Kristof laughed. “Man, you never make it to the back,” he said. “Me, I got a good, for real blow-job from these two muscle-nerds, it was so hot—”

“Hey guys!” Yun said, appearing out of the crowd next to them. Torin gaped at him. He was so taken aback by Yun’s long, monster hard-ons, which were so big they stretched way they hell up Yun’s extra-long, deliciously defined torso and actually topped out almost exactly at Yun’s pert, erect nipples (!), that he barely registered how the two guys he had his arms around looked pretty much exactly like Torin—and did look exactly like each other. “I’ll be ready to go soon, okay?” Yun promised. Then he turned and they melted into the throng again, clearly headed in the direction of “out back”.

Kristof moved up next to Torin, like him staring at the spot where Yun had disappeared, and carded a hand through his long hair. “Dude, when is he going to figure out it’s you he wants?” he asked.

Torin was starting to wonder that as well. “Yeah,” he joked, “but there’s only one of me.”

Kristof snickered, elbowing him. “I didn’t mean for blowjobs, dude,” he taunted. “I think he’s in luuuurrrve.”

Torin snorted and shoved his friend back with his shoulder. “Shut up, or I’ll cum all over you,” he said.

Kristof scoffed. “Like you’ve never done that before,” he said with a grin.

Before Torin could get him to elaborate, Brick appeared, flanked by the same fresh-faced, eager twunks Torin had spotted him with at the start of the evening, their gently curved cocks looking short and hefty compared to Brick’s perfect, succulent, red-tinged whoppers, though Torin guessed the twunks were both sporting at least footlongs. Torin wasn’t surprised they were the same pair he’d seen before: Brick tended to stick with the same guys when he went out, and often brought them home, mostly because his intense arousal tended to fixate on one guy—or guys—at a time. Also, like most Adonis-As his libido was so high he need to cum six or seven times a night before he hit his true, ultra-euphoric climax, an orgasm-bomb so concentrated and so potent that it tended to trigger simultaneous instant orgasms in anyone within twenty meters of its detonation, as Torin knew all too well from repeated experience.

“You guys about ready?” Brick asked, his bright mango eyes faintly phosphorescent in the dim, swirling atmosphere of the club.

“Just waiting on Yun,” Kristof said with a leer, indicating the back area with his scruffy chin.

“Good, we def want to grab a bite before we head back,” Brick replied. The twunks, whether previously consulted on this point or not, nodded vigorously. Brick tended to work up an appetite on the dance floor, Torin knew. Though he was fairly ravenous at the moment himself, come to think of it, and he could practically hear Kristof’s bottomless stomach growling.

“I could totally go for double beef-burgers and crispy fries at Toledo’s,” Kristof agreed.

“Sounds like a plan,” Torin said.

They chatted a while, Brick’s twunk recruits hanging back politely and occasionally exchanging excited glances, until Yun suddenly appeared again. He was looking fresh-faced and slightly embarrassed, his towering boners just as hard and immense as they had been before, if a little redder. He was alone, much to Torin’s relief—there was no sign of his surrogate-clones.

The six of them headed out together in a tight friend-formation, joining a few other similarly happy-looking groups of half-naked, double-monster-boned guys leaving around the same time. As they passed through the main vestibule and out toward the mild night air of the parking lot, Torin realized something and stopped. “Hold up, guys,” he said, and at his words they all halted and gathered close around him. “Aren’t we going to collect our shirts from the shirt check?” Torin asked.

They all gave him confused, what-are-you-talking-about looks. “Dude,” Kristof asked him, his brow furrowed, “what’s a ‘shirt’?”

Torin sat in a booth at Toledo’s surrounded by his suitemates plus two, unable to stop thinking about his heavy-as-fuck, too-large erections and the way their fat heads were periodically seeping pearls of clear precum onto the top ranks of his rippling, hairy eight-pack. At least the backs of the booths reclined slightly—apparently that was the norm now—so that Torin and other guys with straight-up-and-down, ruler-busting cocks weren’t actively stabbing themselves with their damp, steel-hard pricks… which was at least some consolation. But Torin was feeling like they’d brought the randy, sensual, cock-and-cum atmosphere of the club out into the normal world with them, and he was feeling a little unsettled about this new, exposed-boner world and the unexpected ramifications and ripples he had yet to encounter.

Food sounded like a good distraction, and Torin kept an eye out for Ben, their half-naked, long-legged farm-boy server with the extra-wide, bent-half-way cocks, who should be bringing their overloaded plates of goodness out any minute. (Torin knew he was called “Ben” because his name had been markered onto his left pec in small block letters, more or less where a nametag would have been pinned to his uniform shirt a couple hours before. There was a little mole there that made it look like his name was supposed to be “Ben.”, period included.)

The diner was bustling with guys, a lot of them fresh from clubbing. Booths and tables were ringed with them, more groups passed in and out. They were different colors and heights, different physiques and dispositions, but to a man they were all shirtless, good-looking, and possessed of two monster erections that, whatever their shape—fat, thin, straight, bent, surfboard or torpedo—their pants could not possibly begin to hide them. Why did they still even wear pants? Torin mused, looking around the large, boisterous space. Was it just fashion, or was there still a perceived need to hide or contain the enlarged pairs of lemon-sized balls everyone seemed to have now on both sides as part of the monster-cock upgrade? Maybe the pants were next, he thought. His eyes caught on a fit, dusky-skinned lad with a dreadlock fade near the next booth. He’d paused in the act of leaving to make out with his taller, well-muscled blond companion, who was brazenly stroking the lad’s impressive, exposed cocks as they kissed.

Fuck, that might not even need a glitch, Torin thought. At this rate it’ll probably happen in a day or two just by mutual consent.

Kristof, on Torin’s left, followed his gaze and tsked. “No shame,” he said, shaking his head, before reaching over and giving Torin’s nearest boner a long stroke—right in front of their server, Ben, who was just then setting a towering pile of food directly in front of Kristof.

Torin gasped. “Hey!” he objected. “Are you trying to get me to blow a load all over your burger?” He was only half joking. Despite having cum spectacularly a total of four times in the club, Torin still felt like he was in a state of constantly simmering near-orgasm. It wouldn’t take much to set him off again, as Kristof, with his rounded, naturally large pecs and slabs of thick, hard cock, seemed to know all too well. On his other side, Yun watched Kristof’s antics with silent intensity. His cocks were chest-high now that he was sitting, nearly up to his elegant collarbones, and at the sight of Kristof’s cheeky grope they’d both spit thick arcs of precum in jerky approval. Yun’s long arm was behind him along the canted back of the booth, and Torin fancied he felt it twitch as well, as if it were considering a unilateral move down onto Torin’s muscular shoulders regardless of what Yun felt about it.

Brick was currently engaged in a three-way make-out with the twunks, Kev (he with the rhubarb-purple hair) and Rob (the compacter one with the half-buzz), one of whom (Kev) was on his lap; so they, at least, didn’t notice Kristof’s little grope. The bashful server finished laying out their food and disappeared, his cheeks perceptibly reddened.

“I do like the taste,” Kristof replied with a salacious smirk, before turning to his rugby-ball-sized burger and giving it his full attention. Torin watched him a moment, amused and bemused. Goading Torin seemed to be Kristof’s new favorite thing, and he just couldn’t tell if this behavior had been unleashed retroactively as a part of everyone getting giant exposed cocks, or if it had been building up as part of their increasingly playful relationship. Maybe both, Torin decided. He bent forward and hefted his own Toledoburger (with swiss, bacon, and barbecue), ignoring how Yun was still watching him, his cocks spurting occasionally onto his chest and shoulders, or the way Brick and his cute, muscley partners for the night were integrating the landmark restaurant’s famous crispy fries into their mutual mouthplay.

From the next booth Torin heard the unmistakable grunts of the dusky lad cumming as his larger companion kissed him and stroked him off. Everyone around them seemed to be pretending nothing was happening, Torin included, though the stimulus seemed to reverberate through at least his booth, and possibly through their whole corner of the restaurant. Brick and the twunks picked up the pace of their food fun, while Kristof smiled in his burger and Yun was nervously swallowing his cajun chicken fingers more or less whole.

Torin sat back a little, focusing on his meal as the smell of cum wafted over them. Yun’s arm slid onto his shoulder almost automatically. Torin ignored that, too.

Mmm, he thought. Good burger.

They finished fairly quickly despite the overgenerous proportions and didn’t dawdle, teasing Brick about still having the night ahead of him, which only made Brick beam in response. As they got out of the booth Torin noticed Ben watching them from the wait station, the two fat, bent cocks he had emerging from his heavy black work trousers looking warm and slick with his own pre. His eye caught Kristof’s and his cheeks reddened again. He looked like he was about to turn away, but Kristof beckoned him over with a wide, friendly smile that few could resist. Ben headed toward them, seeming more bashful than ever, and a few of the other diners took seemed to sense something happening and looked up to watch as Ben joined their group.

Kristof, at 6’4” just a shade taller than the corn-fed youth, looked down at him with a wicked smile. “We just wanted to tell you you did a great job tonight,” he told him, “and see if maybe you wouldn’t mind an… extra tip?” He shifted his brows up and down at that, so there could be little chance of mistaking his meaning.

Ben stared into his eyes. “Okay,” he said. Without further preamble, Kristof moved in and planted a kiss on him, at the same time giving his bent, slippery cocks three long, slow strokes. Torin watched this with hot arousal filling up all his inner recesses. Fuck, he thought, maybe Kristof is some kind of third Adonis level they didn’t even know about. He sure gets away with everything…

Kristof stepped back and gestured for Torin to take his place. When Torin didn’t move at first, Kristof goaded, “C’mon, Tor, be fair. He did right by the whole table, right? The tip should come from all of us!”

Knowing Kristof was not going to let go of it, Torin sighed and moved in front of the hunky server, who seemed slightly dazed. Kristof must be one hell of a kisser, he thought. He pressed his lips against the other man’s and felt him immediately respond, opening for him and deepening the kiss even before Torin had his hand’s wrapped around Ben’s hefty cocks. They were stone-hard and almost completely immovable… not unlike Torin’s own had been all night. They kissed deeply for a long moment, the server’s hands sliding unexpectedly over Torin’s firm, round ass as Torin jerked him languidly and deliberately.

Finally Torin pulled himself away, realizing he was close to cumming again. He gave Kristof a look that said he would get his. Kristof just grinned, casually brushing his hair back as he watched the spectacle he’d created.

Yun kissed him next. His kiss was hungry and his strokes firm, though he seemed to realize after a moment that Ben wasn’t the right person to exorcise his sexual frustrations on and stepped back, smiling contritely at the man in a way Torin found adorable.

Kev and Rob kissed him together, each giving the cock in front of them a playful stroke. They seemed honored to be included, though they were suppressing giggles as they stepped back.

Then Brick stepped in front of the guy—a little reluctantly, Torin thought. By now most of the restaurant was watching, waiting to see what would come next.

Seeing Brick in front of him, Ben gave an involuntary grunt of increased arousal, his cocks jerking and seeming to get even harder and thicker-looking. Brick gave him a brilliant, reassuring smile—itself probably enough to make Torin cum were it directed at him, he thought—and bent to give him deep, slow kiss while simultaneously giving his rigid, bent monster cocks a long, strong-fisted stroke.

Ben, of course, lost it, as anyone would being ministered to in such a fashion by an Adonis-A. His cocks erupted with huge gouts of cum that, due to their almost L-shaped crook, sent his spunk not onto his own well-proportioned body, but instead splattering in long arcs all over Torin—he’d been so immersed in the shocking novelty of what was happening that he hadn’t realized he was standing in exactly the wrong place. Ben came a lot, grunting red-faced into Brick’s open-mouthed kiss as the Adonis-A continued stroking him firmly through his release, and Torin was quickly coated with more spunk than he’d gotten on himself the whole night in the course of his own four gargantuan orgasms.

It was probably a good thing in balance, he thought later. In that moment Torin was perilously close to the edge himself and might have been shoved into a huge climax at the sight of Brick making Ben cum with a stroke and a kiss; but having Ben cum bucket-loads all over him, and the resulting snickering from Kristof and even Yun, was ample distraction.

For a second everything seemed still and suspended, Torin aghast, Ben floating, Brick glad he’d made someone happy, Kristof snickering. Then the place started up again, and the restaurant filled with noise as people went back to whatever they were doing, leaving Torin and his group to their devices.

Still chuckling, Kristof turned to their table and picked up a few of the paper napkins that were stacked there—as if that would do anything. Muttering that he’d get a shower at home, Torin instead grabbed Kristof’s and Yun’s wrists and pulled them toward the door with a brusque “C’mon!”, the others falling in behind them. As they left together, Torin noticed another departing table tentatively giving their talk, lithe, and very hung waiter the same kind of “extra tip” Ben has just gotten. Ben, for his part, had emerged from his daze and started clearing up their table with a huge, dopey grin.

Outside they were all chuckling again, Torin included, exasperated though he was. “How do you always end up covered in spunk?” Brick said, shaking his head with a laugh as they headed across the lot to their cars. (Knowing Brick’s habits they’d gone out as usual with Brick driving his own car and the rest of them in Kristof’s comfy SUV.)

“He’s a spunk magnet,” Kristof suggested.

“No thanks,” Torin objected, not wanting other people jizzing on him to become a thing. “I’m sticking to cumming on myself from now on.”

Brick and Kristof laughed. They separated as they neared the cars, Kev and Rob following Brick to his sleek silver roadster while Yun and Torin went with Kristof. Torin tried teasing Kristof a little as they approached the SUV, testing to see where things lay between them. “That was a little crazy back there,” he said with a cautious smile.

Standing at the driver’s door, Kristof gave him a saucy up and down look. “Maybe I was just warming up for the big event,” he said with a smirk.

Torin glanced at Yun, who was standing close, watching them. Was Yun waiting for Kristof to breach the sexual taboo between the suitemates? Torin sighed deliberately and said, “Dude, we talked about this, right?” He hoped they still had, in this revised reality.

“I know,” Kristof said equably, though he moved closer as he said it. “It’s just—” And he give Torin a soft, tender kiss. There was no touching, no stroking, just the kiss; and it was so sweet, so gratifying, so unbearably pleasant that Torin almost—almost—came.

Kristof stepped back, brushing his hair back with his fingers as he gave Torin another top-to-bottom scope. When their gazes met again, Kristof’s hazel eyes were dancing, but there was more there beyond his usual playfulness that Torin wasn’t sure he understood. “It’s just,” Kristof repeated, “you happen to be slightly irresistible.”

Torin glanced up at Yun and saw his lips were working subtly, as if he were trying to taste the kiss Kristof had given Torin. Torin’s stare drifted down to Yun’s perfectly straight, nipple-high monster erections, which were spitting precum onto Yun’s pecs again. Torin swiftly turned away and started around the car. Funny, he though, before today he’d have listed Yun’s torso, especially those long, cut abs, as Yun’s second-best feature after his gorgeous face. It was almost a shame nobody looking at him would even see them now, thanks to the impressive distractions now rising in front of them.

He got in the car, pleased to note that the seat-backs were all reclined just enough to prevent unnecessary self-impalings. He settled his butt in the passenger seat and his three big feet in the foot-well in front of him, feeling pensive and unsure. As Yun got silently into the back seat and Kristof started up the SUV with a mischievous grin, Torin wondered if his night, too, was only just beginning.

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