Hocus growcus

by Jonathan Banner

 What at first seems to be an innocuous Grindr hookup quickly turns into an otherworldly experience highlighted by unbelievable growth.

Added: Jul 2022 4,622 words 4,611 views 4.7 stars (10 votes)

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My Friday night Grindr conquest’s apartment is easily the most interesting of all those into which I’ve ever set my big fuckin’ feet. Lit by the soft glow of candles, salt lamps, and the full moon looming outside, it is by no means a large pad, yet despite its paucity of square footage it’s adorned with an embarrassment of trinkets, oddities and decor that call to mind some mysterious occult thrift store, or perhaps a warlock’s den… The air is thick and warm with the smell of incense and cigarettes, but through the open windows drifts the invigorating scent of rain… all mingling to create a most alluring atmosphere that finds me at complete and utter ease.

“Whoa, you’ve got some cool shit, man,” I say, not knowing where to settle my gaze, what otherworldly treasure to inspect first, as there’s just so fuckin’ much to digest: skulls and crystals and ancient-looking books, masks carved into the grinning mugs of demons, paintings of surreal, dreamlike scenes, oddly-shaped terrariums occupied by otherworldly succulents that look as though they might’ve originated on other planets… It’s a neat vibe; not exactly my style, but I can dig it.

“Thanks. I like to collect cool, weird, witchy shit, you know?”

Aleister (or Al, as he told me to call him) is pretty twinky, but such a pretty twink he is. Slim-bodied guys are usually not my type, as I tend to go for bigger, buffer dudes… but he’s just so easy on the eyes that I couldn’t resist. His face is like something out of a fucking magazine, angular and youthful yet with a flush of maturity that conveys the sense that he’s seen a few things, been around the block (and cock) more than a few times… knows what he’s doing in the bedroom. His blond hair is undoubtedly artificially lightened, looking like a mop of lightning bolts bursting out of his gorgeous skull, yet far from looking dry and dead his hair is full and lush, so soft looking that I long to run my hands through it. His feet—his big, manly, long-toed feet—give my own heavy size fifteens a run for their money, the massive things practically spilling out of his huge sandals to the point where he should probably just forgo wearing them and walk around barefoot for all the good they’re doing. And his eyes… his big, vibrant eyes burn with an icy blue electricity that makes me wonder if he’s wearing contacts, for never before have I seen eyes that otherworldly shade of blue… He is, quite simply, unlike anyone whom I’ve ever met (or fucked) before.

“You practice fucking magic or something?” I ask, fully ready to believe that this dude’s a wannabe sorcerer, as his ancient-looking home decor and new age aesthetic lend themselves entirely to such an inference.

“Yeah, I dabble,” he says, watching me idly as I continue to peruse his belongings, those eyes of his seeming to glow in the dimness like ghostly tea lights.

“So, like, you actually believe in all this shit?” I ask, looking back at him… the sight of his ethereal beauty striking me like a slap to the fucking face. This dude could honestly believe that the earth is flat, and I wouldn’t give a shit. He’s so attractive, so, so beautiful, that he could believe in anything, literally anything, and I would still want him. Nothing—in this world or the next—can deter me from my pursuit of him. (What can I say? I have a weakness for pretty things.)

“Yes,” he says, resting his long-fingered left hand upon a huge, jagged crystal perched atop a short shelf that I’m 99% certain he’d purchased from Target. “I do.”

“That’s cool.”

“What, you don’t?”

“I mean, kinda… I wouldn’t—I mean, I don’t practice magic or anything, but I DO believe that forces beyond our understanding exist in this wide, mysterious world of ours.”

“Beyond your understanding,” he says, a knowing look on his face.

“Well, I guess you of all people would probably know a thing or two about all this shit,” I say, running my fingers over the binding of some weathered, eldritch tome, the title of which is written in some indecipherable characters that I’m not even sure are letters.

“I know a little bit more than ‘a thing or two’… and who knows… maybe I’ll teach you some things… Maybe even make you a believer tonight.”

“Maybe.”

And with that we just stand there, looking at each other for a few moments, a roll of thunder shuddering its way through the windows. The smell of rain is growing heavier, and the pattering of drops against the leaves of the trees outside make known the forecasted storm’s arrival. The whole scene is so dreamlike… and yet I am wide awake, and ready—hungry—for a long, long night. I haven’t fucked (or jerked) in over a week. I’ve been holding it in with the goal of attaining a truly unbelievable climax… and I’m just about ready to burst.

“You want something to drink?” Al asks, turning, making his way into what I presume is the kitchen, stepping through the arched doorway curtained by strings of clattering red beads that glimmer in the moonlight.

“Sure.”

“Anything in particular?” his disembodied voice calls, wafting out of the shadows like the undulating wisps of incense smoke that drift against my face.

I think for a moment, before saying, “Surprise me.”

“You got it.”

As he prepares my beverage, unseen in the darkness beyond the gradually settling beads, I carry on with my inspection of his peculiar array of shit, each and every last item eliciting a sense of wonder, curiosity, and sometimes even fear.

He steps back into the parlor, two glasses in hand.

“What the fuck is this?” I ask, pointing to a wooden figure with an absolutely enormous penis, the thing being at least four sizes too big for the crudely whittled body.

“Oh, that little guy. That’s an idol of Priapus.”

“Who’s that?”

“Priapus was a Greek fertility god, reputed to be a protector of the male genitals… and as you can see, he’s usually depicted as having a macropenis.”

“Macropenis? Is that what you call that thing? Shit, that dick looks like it’s got the dude growing out of it.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, that guy’s got a pretty big schlong… You like big dicks?”

I don’t immediately respond. Instead, I just take the drink from him, helping myself to a long sip (gin and tonic—excellent), and begin rubbing my crotch with my free hand. “Yeah… I do, actually. I sure hope you do, too… otherwise you might not enjoy tonight too much.”

“Oh really? Well, rest assured: I love a big dick just as much as the next girl.”

I laugh, taking another swig from my drink, continuing to rub myself, coaxing my dick (which truly is larger than average) into an erection. Aleister sips from his own glass, watching my crotch intently, the cold ember glow in his eyes pulsing even brighter at the sight of my bulge.

“Looks like you really are packing some serious dickage,” he says, the desire to fully experience my size evident on his angelic face, his perfect skin simmering with anticipation.

“Yeah, I’m pretty hung,” I say, removing my hand from my lump and flexing through my pants, my boner causing the fabric to creak with each pulsation. “You wanna let it out and see just how big I am?”

“Why don’t you let it out for me? I like to watch others unwrap presents.” He sits down in the weathered leather armchair next to him, setting his drink down on the little, claw-footed table that crouches alongside it, then he moves his hands to his own lap and begins rubbing.

Smiling, I spread my legs, bend my knees a bit, and unzip my fly. Digging my right hand into the mouth of my jeans, I fish around for my dick, acting as though the task is a bit more difficult than it actually is. Al appears to enjoy this, as he bites his lip and groans in pleasure after I say, “Fuck, getting this thing out is a bit of a struggle… Big dick problems, man.”

Finally, deciding that I’ve spent enough time conveying the difficulty of wrangling the thing, I pull my cock out—all thick, hard eight-and-a-half inches of it surging out into the open. Aleister gasps, then begins chuckling in glee.

“Shit, that’s a beautiful dick,” he says, continuing to rub himself fervently. “Look at that fucking head, man… it’s so fucking fat…”

“You like it?” I ask, rubbing my hands up and down my still jean-covered legs, flexing my dick so that it bobs about, its bulbous mushroom head pulsing, the piss-slit opening and closing as if it’s gasping for air.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” he says, looking up at me with a searing lust. “That dick is so fucking big, man… I want it inside me.”

I grin, looking down at my schlong, proud of my own size… and yet…

“What?” he asks, clearly detecting my degree of dissatisfaction.

“Well, yeah, this thing is pretty big… but I want it to be even bigger, man.”

“Really?” he asks, sounding incredulous. “Dude, how big do you fucking want to be? A fucking foot long?!”

“Yeah, actually,” I say, unabashed in my desire to be even more hung than I already am. I’ve always wanted to be monster-hung—like, freakishly so—ever since I saw ‘Boogie Nights.’ One Halloween I even went out as Dirk Diggler, with a huge cucumber shoved down my costume bell bottoms; even though I knew it was fake, the sensation of having something that massive crammed into my pants, rubbing against my leg, was amazing. I’d never felt more alive, more confident, more desirable… More like a man. Though I get a fair helping of attention and envy with my current size, it just isn’t enough for me.

“Well, I mean, that would be fucking hot,” Al says, looking at my dick and licking his lips, perhaps imagining what I would look like with another four inches stretching out of my gaping fly.

“You don’t know any spells that can make my dick grow, do you?” I say, jokingly, thinking he’ll appreciate this reference to his witchy interests.

A beat, and then… “Actually, I do.”

“Dude, I fucking wish, man…” I swing my dick around playfully, the thing thudding against my thighs, my stomach… I love feeling it flopping about, heavy and long and big.

“No, seriously. I do know a spell that can make your dick bigger.”

I say nothing, unsure as to whether or not I want to play along with this witchy-fucking-poo game of his. I’ve never been one for role-playing, but ultimately I decide to just go with it. “When in Rome” and all… Maybe he’s just referring to a pump or something. (I own a pump myself, but it really doesn’t fucking do shit, so I haven’t touched the thing in forever.)

“Well then, what are you waiting for, man? Blow this thing up to a foot for me!” I throb at the thought.

He smiles, squeezing his own bulge (which I just notice is incredibly long, stretching down his inner thigh like a fucking water bottle), before standing up, flexing his own monstrous meat through his jeans. “I’ll be right back,” he says, his hot, bubble-ass sucking my gaze down to it as he strides into the shadows. My cock throbs with the need to force itself into his gorgeous butt… to feel his big, perky cheeks squeezing against my big, perky dick.

It’s now torrentially pouring outside, the booms of thunder becoming more frequent, louder, and more aggressive… A damp breeze is blowing through the windows, sending the white curtains fluttering about like hovering ghosts in the dark. . . I just stand there, in the flickering orange candlelight, waiting for Aleister to return, stroking my erection—which, somehow, seems to have gotten even harder… The thick vein coursing through it has never looked this prominent… The idea of making my dick even bigger has made me hornier than I can remember being in a long, long fuckin’ time…

Al returns, shirtless, a tiny little blue glass bottle held in the palm of his one hand… His slim yet toned torso is inscribed with an array of tattoos that range from the mundane to the truly bizarre: a great butterfly spreads its black wings across his chest, its body nestled into the crevasse between his rather ample pecs; a large, jagged, star-like shape hovers above his right thigh; a ring of what look like astrological signs encircle his right nipple, which is large and dark, begging to be sucked… and countless other symbols, images, and flares of script (some that appear to be written in Chinese and other languages) cling to his flesh like a swarm of insects… His jeans are also gone, the head of his huge cock poking out of the bottom of his strained pink boxer-briefs.

Dude! Holy shit! Your dick is fucking bigger than MINE!” I exclaim, genuinely shocked at how someone as skinny and twinky as he can have such a large penis. The thing’s absolutely enormous: fat and heavy-looking, so big that its veiny texture is perfectly visible through the fabric of his underwear.

He just smiles, patting his bulge with his free hand. “Yeah, I’m not exactly wanting for inches either.”

“Shit, son… What, did you use your dick-growth spell on yourself?” I ask, staying in character. With a dick like that, I can almost believe that this dude really can perform magic.

“Maybe… or maybe I’m just naturally this big…” he says, stepping up to me with his big, bare feet and kissing me on the lips. My eyes close, my hands finding their way to his sides, and we make out for what feels like an eternity, my dick poking out and rubbing against his own monstrous, unbelievable bulge. After we separate our mouths, he takes the little glass cap off the bottle in his left hand and sets it gently down upon the coffee table alongside us. “Here,” he says, getting down on his knees, positioning himself before my flexing protrusion. “Let me work my magic.”

I grin, my dick literally harder than it has ever been in my entire life. The vein running through it is pulsing as I watch Al pour some thick, clear substance over my shaft… a substance that I can only assume is just some lube. It feels incredible: my dick starts to tingle with a warmth that I fear will get me off before I even start fucking this guy. I am so beyond ready to nut.

“Oh shit, that feels good…” I breathe, tilting my head back, closing my eyes, allowing the pleasure radiating from my penis to flow throughout my entire body, all the way down to the tips of my large feet, like the heat of a parlor fire place spilling out into the rest of the house’s rooms…

“Good,” Al says, slowly rubbing the substance all over my cock, working it thoroughly into every last one of my eight-and-a-half inches, and even applying some to my heavy sack. “Now imagine how big you want your dick to be… believe that your dick is that big… feel it being that big…”

And so I do: I imagine that my cock is over a foot long, huge and long and thick and heavy as all shit, its head a fat, fist-sized mushroom glistening in the moonlight, my balls two monstrous gourds hanging so heavy and fat between my legs that I can barely stand up with them… I imagine that it feels like their overwhelming weight is gonna cause them to rip right off of my fucking body…

“Oh… oh my god, man… that… Dude, that feels fucking amazing. Dude… dude! What the fuck! My dick… My dick’s fucking growing, man! It’s fucking growing!”

I gaze, wide-eyed and stunned, at my eight-and-a-half incher as it visibly stretches into a full, even nine inches, swelling thicker as it elongates.

“I told you it would,” Al says, all blue eyefire and smile, his excitement crackling against me.

Dude! I thought you were fucking joking! What the fuck, dude! Look at this thing! Holy… Holy fucking shit, man! It’s really growing! Look at how big it’s getting!”

Bigger and bigger my cock stretches, vibrating as it grows, inflating to a size that I’ve only ever dreamed about, and never truly thought would be possible to attain…

My heart’s racing. My chest is heaving against my wild breaths. I am stunned. Absolutely stunned. I cannot believe what’s fucking happening! My dick is growing—my dick is actually fucking growing! And it just keeps growing: stretching, swelling, throbbing… pulling itself further and further out of my fly like some fat-headed snake unfurling itself out of its den. I feel my balls swelling as well, expanding crazily within my jeans, the fabric of which begins to groan in distress as my nuts expand to inhuman size like two water balloons being overfilled.

“It… it’s not stopping, man,” I stammer, the excitement at watching my already large cock growing even larger quickly turning into mounting concern. “Dude, when’s it gonna fucking stop? It’s getting almost too big, man! Look at this thing! It… it’s not stopping, man! How big am I gonna grow?! My balls feel like they’re gonna fuckin’ explode out of my jeans!”

Look at it Al does—a hunger, a raging desire, radiating from his gorgeous face, burning like the rays of the sun from those bright, bright blue eyes. “It won’t stop until it’s as big as you want it to be,” he says, pulling down his underwear and revealing his own cock in its full, unobstructed glory, a monstrous, disproportionately large monster dong that swings heavily, dangerously before him… He begins to stroke himself, watching in rapt enthrallment and pleasure as my dick continues to grow bigger… and bigger… and bigger.

The growth is starting to hurt, as if my body doesn’t possess enough skin to accommodate my increasing size. I can now hear my skin stretching, like a piece of rubber being pulled too tight. The fabric of my jeans literally starts to rip as my balls continue to expand, spilling down my legs as my crotch runs out of room, the feeling of their contents churning enough to turn my stomach.

Holy fuck, man! Make it stop! Make it fucking stop, man! It’s growing too fucking big! Oh god! It’s… My dick’s too fucking huuuge! It’s gotta be fucking fifteen inches or some shit! It’s getting too fucking big! Oh… Oh god! My balls, man! I gotta get my balls out—my jeans are gonna fucking burst!

But he says nothing… does nothing—just continues to masturbate as he watches me frantically work to free my enormous nuts, his own monster throbbing in excitement as I become overcome with pure terror at how freakishly gigantic I’m growing.

Make it stop, man! Please! Make it fucking stop growing!” I cry, succeeding—barely—in getting my jeans pulled down, allowing my two melon-sized balls to heave out into the open, so heavy that my legs actually buckle against their weight. “It’s growing too big! It’s growing too fucking big! Oh god, my dick’s too fucking big, man! And look at my fucking balls! They’re so fucking huge!

But it won’t stop… I just. Keep. Growing. My dick has to be at least two feet long now, and the sound of it growing is deafening: though lightning continues to flash hysterically and I can feel the apartment shuddering against the booming thunder, I can no longer hear it, as my ears are overwhelmed with the roar of the growth.

“Oh God… Oh God, it’s so fucking heavy!” I say, dropping down to my trembling knees, the huge, throbbing log of flesh slamming down onto the coffee table with a sickening thud, causing its contents to clatter, shudder… my monstrous, low-hanging sack pulling itself closer and closer to the floor. I watch in horror, disgust, and disbelief as my dick just continues to stretch its away across the length of the wooden surface… it’s fat, pulsing head sliding closer and closer to the edge, the sound of it growing—rubbery, stretching, gurgling with bloodflow—making me nauseous.

I begin to sob. “Dude, please—make it fucking stop! Make it stop fucking growing, man! I’m too big… I’m too fucking big… My cock’s just too… fucking… big! Look at it!”

It’s then that Al erupts—his cum exploding from the cavernous mouth of his dong with such climactic fury that I momentarily find myself no longer overcome with horror but instead with raging awe upon witnessing his orgasm. It’s of such ferocity that it makes everything I’d ever before seen, in porn or real life, seem lackluster.

Oh fuuuccckkk yeeeaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!” he growls through clenched teeth and contorted face, throwing his head back, his wild lightning hair seeming to blow about his head as he continues to beat himself, his chest heaving as his dick’s product rains down upon him… thick, heavy globs of cum pelt his face, his body… His entire body writhes and squirms there on the floor, his dick convulsing for what seems like a full minute of violent, ungodly orgasm.

And then, just as he lets go of himself, his torso falling back against the ancient armchair… my dick stops growing.

Panting, breathing as if I’ve just finished running a fucking marathon, I stare down at my giant, almost three-foot long monster cock, my set of football-sized balls spread across the floor between my legs… and whimper in disbelief.

“Dude, what did you do? What did you fucking do to me, man? Look at this thing! Look at my fucking cock, man! You’ve turned me into a fucking freak!”

“I’ve merely done what you wanted me to,” Al says, the blue fire of his eyes hidden beneath his closed lids; he’s seemingly dangerously winded himself. “I gave you the dick you’ve always wanted, even if your ego doesn’t consciously realize it yet.”

My heart’s racing so fast that it feels like I’m on the verge of suffering a massive heart attack. The room is spinning, my vision’s blurry. “How the fuck am I supposed to live with this fucking thing, man? How the fuck am I supposed to live my fucking life with this giant, three-foot long fucking freak cock?! There’s no fucking way i’m gonna be able to fit myself into my jeans!

“You’ll figure it out,” he says, opening his eyes and looking upon my titanic member with unmistakable, unbridled awe. “You’re the one who’s always wanted it, and now, you have it… Besides, it’ll get smaller when it softens… You’re a grower, right? That won’t have changed…”

I am a “grower,” but I know this will hardly make a difference… Even soft, the thing will be at least over a foot long, and thus impossible to fully conceal within any sort of pants… And my balls… Oh my god, my balls! They’re so massive and heavy that even if I do somehow manage to squeeze them in it’s gonna look like I have two fucking tumors growing on my inner thighs! And what the fuck am I supposed to do when I get hard? My dick will either rip the fuck right out of my pants, or else stretch down my leg to the point where I won’t even be able to walk properly.

I’m fucked. I now have what is undeniably the biggest dick in the entire fucking world, and I’m the one who’s going to be fucked.

“Dude… I… I just can’t believe this… I’ve gotta be dreaming… this can’t be real… this can’t be happening… I need to wake up… I need to wake the fuck up… Oh God…”

“It’ll be all right,” Al says, heaving himself up and wagging his huge softie about as he looks down at me, with what is perhaps a note of sympathy on his otherwise delighted face. “Just get yourself off, and then decide whether or not your life is ruined. I’m telling you—I think your opinion’s gonna change very shortly.”

And so, mind numb, thoughts disintegrating into a formless mist of nothingness, I begin to masturbate, running my hands as far along my shaft as I can… my giant balls bouncing, so heavy that I’ll probably sustain bruises from their collisions with my legs. It feels fucking incredible… Not only has my dick grown to inconceivable dimensions, but so apparently has the pleasure that is to be derived from playing with it…

“Oh fuuuuuuuccccccckkkkkkk!” I howl, just as a blinding flash of lightning and the ensuing explosion of thunder dominate the apartment. My monstrous cock flails and swerves and heaves as it unloads, the blasts of ejaculate that spew from it even thicker and heavier than Al’s had been; the sound they make as they collide with the coffee table—impossibly loud thuds—is enough to make me climax all over again, without even the slightest break after the first one…

Holy fucking shit… Holy fucking shit…” I breathe, stumbling back and slouching against the narrow stretch of wall that rests between the two opened windows, watching feverishly as my cock—my fucking huge, giant, ungodly leviathan of a cock—begins to soften, lowering in altitude, receding from a state of three-foot erection into what is perhaps a foot-long state of flaccidity.

“Well?” Al asks, arms folded, hair billowing about in the breeze, watching me… eagerly awaiting my response.

“Dude… that… that was… that was fucking insane.”

Al smiles, a flash of lightning momentarily illuminating the entire apartment as if it were high noon: the split second between the pure brightness of the lightning’s fleeting life and the resumed darkness making him appear almost sinister, twisted, hideous… His beauty vanishes for the blink of an eye, replaced by a hideous, evil countenance, demonic and twisted and devoid of anything appealing … But in the renewed flicker of candlelight and cover of the night’s deep shadows, he becomes his beautiful, beautiful self again.

“I told you,” he says, sliding his hands back down to his dick, rubbing it as though he’s petting a snake, rousing it from slumber. “Now why don’t you get your ass up off the floor and see if you can fuck the shit out of me with that thing. I might just have to use some of this potion on my ass, though…”

 

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