by brazboy

 In a special corner of the city, unknown to most, there’s a place visited by a special crowd.

Added: Jun 2022 5,754 words 2,940 views 4.8 stars (5 votes)


When I was 18 years old, I saw a guy. I remember as if it were yesterday. I was going to the university campus for the first time, and he was a senior. I went to take the university entrance exam, and, as I left, I remember watching him crossing the main atrium as he left his class with some of his colleagues. He was tall, handsome, and dark. He wore a beautiful blue jacket which accentuated his muscular body, and his shorts barely touched his knees. As he passed by me, he stared into my eyes, letting his friends go on without him.

He smiled at me, and moved his hand to his right pocket, picking up his wallet.

“You see it, don’t you?” he asked, and I nodded, but only slowly, a bit disturbed. I didn’t really understand how, but everyone acted as if the handsome man in front of me was normal, when I could see he wasn’t. Under his jacket, right below his muscular arms, he had a second set of arms squeezed over his shirt. That second set of arms was as muscular as the first, but they didn’t have blue sleeves around them, and because they were lower his hands ended up almost down at his knees.

As his regular right arm went to his pocket, the one under it moved towards my abs, and slid mischievously between my skin and my shirt, lifting it and feeling up my teenage abs. I froze, looking around afraid someone would soon start shouting at us, but the senior just continued smiling unfazed.

“They can’t see it,” he explained. “Only you and I do. They think it’s the wind moving your shirt.”

As he continued feeling my muscles, his hand traveled up to my pecs. He quickly pinched my right nipple, and I bit my lips. The handsome senior smiled at me warmly, even as his normal upper hand was taking a brown card from his wallet, and handing it to me. As I felt his warm touch and tried to resist reacting too much to it, I managed to extend my hand and grab his card. The front read “Metacafé—special coffees, selected grains. Loyalty card. Buy four drinks, the fifth is free.”

As he pinched my nipple, the senior student looked up at me, telling me to turn the card over. It showed a handsome stylized picture of a male torso and an address. I didn’t really know exactly where it was, but it was somewhere downtown.

“Go there when you feel like it,” said the man, as he put his wallet in his pocket once more and his lower hand pulled away from my skin. Just as I felt bereft from losing his touch, his visible right hand patted my shoulder. “Hope to see you there,” he added. He then nodded and ran back to his friends, who were by now waiting for him. I stared for a long time at the card he gave me. Belatedly I realized I was fully aroused—just him approaching me was enough to get my cock hard. Either that, or my teen hormones were worse than I thought.

I park my car in front of my old college. I haven’t been in town in three years now, and I graduated quite a while ago—almost 7 years—but nothing seemed to have changed. I felt an urge to come, after finding that old card in the bottom of a box I had forgotten about since I moved. How much has time changed? Does this coffee shop still exist? Were my memories playing tricks with me? The logical thing was to obviously blame those memories of the hot mysterious senior feeling up my muscles to a wet dream, and not to invisible limbs.

Yet, the card was real, and I had it in my two very visible hands. Unfortunately, the exact address it had didn’t show up on any map service online. I knew the street, but there was no street view either—which is bizarre since nowadays you get street view even of random alleys in the slums. I’d decided, therefore, to just walk there from my old university.

Walking around campus, I can’t stop thinking everyone seems so young. Their experience is different than mine, though, not so much because of age, but because they had faced two years of covid during their studies. It was hard enough to go through that working, but for them it must have sucked really bad. Fashion doesn’t seem to have changed, though—students are still dressed as bizarrely as I remembered.

I leave the campus and start walking down the street. I turn left in front of an abandoned movie theater, and then right in front of a jewelry shop. I walk down two blocks and finally turn once more, right where there is a small chapel right next to a famously bad bookstore. I enter Coin Street, also known as Broad Street—despite it being one of the old narrow paths downtown, the name being a legacy of another time when this route was used to bring coins from the mint and was thus the broadest street in town. Now it’s just an old road so narrow that, between the three- and four-story buildings and the trees, you can hardly see the sun. Walking there felt quite quaint, though.

I pass several bars and stores, people moving quickly back and forth. I’m looking for one specific number, 525, and I’m walking down until I find it. A weird gentleman sitting on a bench stares me as I walk past him, as I have the card in one hand and read it frequently to remember the exact number. I pass number 529, then… 533? Something is wrong. I walk back a little and find numbers 521 and 517. I am lost.

“Psiu, son, are you looking for number 525?” the man asks me, signaling to me to come closer. I don’t approach but I nod.

“Yes, but I guess that number doesn’t exist? Or maybe the numbering is wrong?” I conjecture, and he laughs.

“No, of course it does exist, it’s right behind me,” he points behind his back, and I notice a large open gate leading to a path completely filled with plants. There are no number signs there.

“Number 525 is a flower shop?” I ask, confused, and he shakes his head.

“No, stupid. Walk down the Green Alley. Around halfway through, you turn right and there you’ll see the coffee shop. It’s impossible to miss, a large house painted blue and white,” he responds, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, thanks. How will I know when I’m halfway down the alley?” I ask and the man laughs again.

“Are you stupid? I just said it’s impossible to miss. If you do, though, just go all the way down and then come back half way, if you truly have no self-awareness,” he says. “I’m shocked you even managed to make it this far. Did someone take pity on you? Or did you randomly find that card in the ground?” he asks, and I am as confused as ever.

“I don’t know, neither, I hope?” I respond, taking some steps backwards, and then towards the alleyway open ahead. “Thank you again, sir,” I say, moving on. As I do, he seems to snort.

Halfway down the deserted alleyway filled only with beautiful plants, I see a side path leading to a small open area which the sun could finally reach, surrounded by flowers in pots. At the back there is a building. It looks like an old Brazilian colonial house, with the typical white walls and blue frames. A sign on top reads “Metacafé,” and has the exact same naked male torso painted on it I’d seen on the business card I help between my fingers.

I walk towards the building and quickly open the door, stepping in, being immediately hit by the smell of coffee and warm milk. A shop bell tinkles behind me and my eyes travel around the room. Ahead of me I see a counter, full of cakes and sweets, at the end of the nice ample room; to the left was a wide staircase to the floor above; and was a large seating area filled with tables and chairs where some men sit enjoying their drinks and desserts and typing on their computers. Weirdly, they are all with their backs to me, and so I can see little of them; but from my vantage point they look quite jacked, and tall.

“Welcome, sir!” says the cashier from all the way behind the counter, as I take a few steps into the space. The door closes subtly behind me, without any noise. I approach him, and quickly notice he has a beautiful smile. “First time here?” he asks, and I nod.

“Yes. I heard about this place years ago, but it’s my first time actually visiting,” I respond, looking at the menu flyers which they have stacked just on top of the counter. It’s very sparse for a menu, as it only has three drinks: expresso; coffee and milk; or filtered coffee.

“We geta lot of that,” he says smiling. “Many people take years to visit for the first time, but when they do, they become regular costumers.” I frown as I read the menu, then turn it over and see nothing on the back.

“You guys only serve three types of coffee?” I ask, confused. “What about the special coffees? Selected grains? Did it change in the last seven years?”

The handsome cashier smirks. “No, it hasn’t changed at all. We can give you anything you want, but it isn’t on this menu,” he says, and then points up. “You have to order it upstairs,” he says.

“What…?” I grumble. First it was impossible to find, and now more games inside. “But I’m already here,” I say and sigh.

He shrugs. “Rules are rules. Boss will kill me if I let you order a special coffee down here,” he says. I nod, and roll my eyes.

“Sure. I will go upstairs then, but this is ridiculous. Can I talk to the manager?” I ask, and the cashier turns his head to the side.

“Sure, I’ll tell him when he arrives and he’ll meet you there,” responds the cashier. “He likes to talk to the customers, actually. Says there are lots of fun stories to hear.”

I turn around, a bit annoyed. I almost leave without ordering anything, but I do have to admit that the smell is nice and, after all, I’m already here. And I feel like I should have come a long time ago.

“And I took the day off for this,” I think to myself.

I go upstairs and find myself alone. The design there is the same as downstair, and even the same cashier is there behind the counter. I stomp over to him.

“Is this some sort of joke? You made me come up here to order from you again?! Why didn’t you take my order downstairs?” I say angrily.

He shakes his head, laughing. “No, no, sir. This is a misunderstanding. His name is André Luís, I am Luís André. We are twins,” he says, amused. I stop, not knowing how to react and then clear my throat, a little embarrassed.

“Can I see the special menu now?” I ask, still miffed. He nods, and hands me the thing. I can already see it has a lot more items than the other one, but none of those pictures showing off the final results. I take the document from his hands and read it.

“The part about size is pretty self-explanatory, but what are with your ‘flavors’ and ‘extras’? What the hell do you mean by ‘arm’ and ‘penis’, and why is ‘double’ and ‘triple’ listed as a separate drink?” I ask confused.

He moves his head to the side, just like his annoying twin downstairs. “Oh, I guess you are new here, sir,” he says. “If you want, I can recommend you something based on… what I think you might like. Or you can wait for the manager to come and explain how all this thing works.”

“Can’t you explain it?” I ask.

His eyes widen. “No, sir!”

“Let me guess, your boss would kill you?” I say, and the lad laughs.

“How did you guess? No! I know! My brother told you that,” he says, amused. I roll my eyes.

“Just get me something you think I’ll like. I don’t care what it is as long as it’s cheaper than 25 reais and it has caffeine in it,” I say and move to go sit down at a nearby table. His eyes shine.

“We have a 50% discount for new customers, sir. Can I add as many extras and make them as large as I can?” he asks, excited. I nod and sigh.

“Literally whatever you think is the best… just give me whatever you’d like to have yourself,” I say, and his eyes widen in surprise at the power he has been given. He quickly makes the order himself, using secret employer discounts and special sales and combos only someone working there would know of.

“Damn, you are my favorite customer already!” he says after printing the order and then he starts working on the drink.

“24,99, huh? Big order,” I say not reading the receipt, only checking the number, after he brings me the drink. He is almost jumpy, smiling a lot.

“Oh, yes, sir. The biggest in a while. I hope you enjoy it. I know I will,” he says and leaves my table with the large mug of special coffee in front of me. Honestly, it looks and smells more or less like a regular cup of filtered coffee, so my expectations are not super high. I pick it up and bring it to my lips. I look to the side, and see the cashier watching me from behind the counter. He is staring, but I don’t care and I just lift an arm to wave at him. The goofball waves back, excited.

I roll my eyes and take the first sip. The taste of delicious bitter-sweet wonder fills my mouth and surprised me. I get an incredible rush which I don’t usually get from coffee. I gasp, so shocked I was at this amazing flavor. This is what people must drink in literal heaven.

“This is really good!” I blurt out loud, and the lad nods fervently from the distance.

“Of course, sir! Our coffee is the best, as we use the best ingredients. The best part is yet to come, though,” he comments, watching me. It does cross my mind that this is a weird comment for someone to make, until I realize he’s probably talking about some sort of after taste. I don’t care though, and just continue drinking the delicious juice of the gods, quickly finishing it up and then relaxing in my comfortable seat. I feel as if my body is immediately absorbing the coffee and it’s literally rushing right through my veins, getting to my every cell. My heart starts beating faster. I feel something in my stomach… maybe I was about to burp?

“Ahmmm!” I end up moaning as I feel so hot, bothered. My skin is heated and scratchy. I want to remove my clothes but, of course, I know I can’t. Suddenly it’s like I’m in an oven, sweating.

And that’s when the bell attached to the front door rings.

“Oh, boss! We have a client upstairs that wants to talk to you!” I hear André Luís shouting down below. If there is any response, though, I don’t really know. I just remember that then my body started to throb, as if my whole being was following my heartbeats.

I don’t know why, but as the manager mounts the stairs, I am hyper aware of each of his steps. Even worse—I am feeling more and more different from usual, as my body seems to be reacting to the drink I had just had in a very strange way. Suddenly, I feel as if my own muscles and meat are crawling under my skin, moving in their own capricious ways. Then, I feel my hands and feet burning as they expand and widen. I raise my hands in front of my face and notice my fingers engorging and then doubling, as the same thing happens with my arms, and, I suspect from how the rest of my body feels, down under too.

Soon I hear a rip, loud and clear—it’s my sleeves, unable to fit my arms which are not only growing and separating, but also gaining definition. I moan, lowering my now four hands to the chair, trying to grab something, but there’s nothing I can do to stop the amazing wave of sensations crossing through my body. I growl again, as my legs and feet feel so tight in my pants and shoes that it’s almost painful. My body trembles, and soon my shoes explode, unable to contain all my flesh. The seams in my pants are undone, ripping vertically, as my body continues to change—my legs also double, and soon I have a pair of inner and another equal pair outer legs. Between each of the outer legs and the corresponding inner leg, I feel a throbbing and engorging from a second and a third cock, too, erupting from three groins!

“What the fuck is going on? Did you drug… my drink?” I shout at Luís André, who has been watching me change and shift and grow, smiling wide the whole time. In fact, his hand has now traveled to his crotch, and he is clearly caressing himself over his apron and uniform.

I can still hear the steps of the manager coming upstairs from below and behind me. My whole body trembles again, and suddenly my pecs burst out of my shirt, as my thighs destroyed the few parts of my pants still covering any skin.

“Not at all, sir!” the cheeky barista answers. “I just prepared your drink according to your instructions as accurately as I could.”

I bite my lips, angry but totally overwhelmed. Unable to think, unable to react, or even speak—especially as my tongue is growing inside my mouth, so large and wet, and hungry.

Not even a second later I growl again, as now I feel my cocks crawling down my massive growing legs, as the outer legs themselves instead of being next to inner ones (or below, like my second set of arms) start moving backward. I look down with urgency, seeing my cocks (not two, three!) growing and expanding but still not getting the slightest bit hard as the outer cocks move behind, following the outer legs. The three of them are already lazily resting against three of my different knees, over my six melon-sized balls, and still expanding!

“Make… this…stop!” I shout, between moans, and at the same time I try to move from my seat, attempting to stand up. However, due to the complete lack of experience I had in this new form, I almost fall on my face, and instead end up knocking the table down and letting my mug fall on the floor where it bursts in pieces. My cocks and balls also fall down, the three cocks landing with a loud thud against the wooden floor, as they are now longer than my four tree-trunk-sized legs, and at least as thick. The six balls hover halfway over the ground, now about twice as big as moments before—probably because I’ve also become much taller than I used to be.

Totally naked, my cocks now slowly oozing pre on the ground, my four muscular arms thick as tree-trunks and my four legs as wide as pillars, I try to walk forwards towards the counter. Doing that makes my body shake, as I have one too many pairs of legs to move, and none part more than my ass and my hanging balls, of which the formerly outer and now rear sets were squeezed together between my back legs. André Luís watches attempting to walk attentively, as my now four pecs still tremble and contract and grow, as does my eight (ten? twelve?) pack. Despite the incredible amount of muscle I am putting on in every second, filling my frame almost too obscenely, my body continues to be more or less proportionate (for a mythological muscle God, I guess), as my whole frame has more or less grown all over.

“You… did this to me…!” I say, moaning before my naked feet finally slide on my own pre, making me slip and fall down with all the weight of my muscles smashing on top of my three pricks and six cum orbs. I moan in delight as that happens, feeling a rush of pleasure run through my body, and then my two sets of left and right hands each grab one of my two side/rear cocks and start squeezing and then stroking them. My fatter and longer midcock throbs and slaps my abs and pecs, rubbing close to my lips as I lower my head to lick my purple central cockhead with my overgrown tongue.

“When I finish…you are going to change me back,” I say as my lips slowly wrap around my midcock, as my hands stroke the other ones faster and faster. Luís André smiles and leaves the counter to come towards where I am laying on the floor. His hand rubs my sensitive back, which now extends in an L shape all the way back to my second pair of legs where he finds my round ass. He slaps, grabs and squeezes it, caressing my hole.

“You want help getting your mind clear, sir?” he asks mischievously, as I suddenly feel a need, a desire to be fucked back there. My nipples, I hadn’t noticed, had become plump as my pecs continued to grow, and as pleasure abounds from my touching and sucking all my three cocks, they start oozing some sweet male milk. As my mouth is busy expanding around my gigantic central cock as it oozes pre into my tongue, I don’t properly respond to Luís André. I only nod.

The cashier smiles to the movement of my head, and immediately lowers his pants to reveal what I’d normally consider a supersized cock, but at only 25 centimeters seemed like a humble size in the current circumstances. He is totally hard, and quickly gets to the point where he pushes his manhood inside me, spreading my ass cheeks, and starts fucking my ass with all the carelessness of a young 18-year-old jock. He slaps my back, forces my rear legs to spread apart, and soon is thrusting his cock inside me fully, as I receive it to immense pleasure. The power his thrusts have in me, the amount of pleasure his cock brought as he buried it in my hungry hole, make me think that whatever the effects of this drug were in my body, they also extended to my guts.

Quickly, I start getting into his fucking, and I start moving my body back and forth while stroking my sidecocks and sucking my midcock, helping him thrust his rod more and deeper inside my ass, until his crotch is slapping my ass at every push. I moan around my own engorged manhood, which shoots more and more warm pre up from my beachball-sized balls, liquid which I let flow down my throat.

At this point almost everything in the world which isn’t my own body is removed from my mind, and I focus totally on the pleasure this new body can offer—with one exception: for some reason I do register that the sound of steps going up the stairs has stopped.

“André! Fucking a new customer before I explained him how our products work?” says a deep manly voice behind me, whose owner is out of my line of sight. “What a mischievous lad I hired,” he comments, as his hand caresses Luís André’s hair, before he literally pulls the teen away from my body using his higher strength. This forces his cock to pop out of my hole, leaving me empty.

“Sorry, boss! But I was only following the customer’s requests. The customer is king!” he says, and the boss slaps his ass.

“We’ll talk about the customer’s request later. Now go take care of your hardon with your brother. After that, go check on our donors and if there are any orders from the customers downstairs. I’ll take care of things here,” says the boss. Luís André nods and runs away into the staff room with his cock slapping his clothes and abs, bobbing up and down as he goes. The boss then sees me desperately sucking my cock, stroking my two other rods, my nipples overflowing with milk, and my ass gaping desperately to be filled. He smiles.

“It isn’t always that we get a new customer such as you. I have to commend your courage,” he says, smiling, but seeing my absolute desperation for release. “Let’s get you finished and then we’ll talk,” he adds, before kneeling besides me, grabbing my hair and pulling my head backwards. I resist, but his other hand then grabs my fat and sensitive midcock, and he pulls it the other way, forcing my lips to leave my cockhead, which pops out wetly and productive like a true precum fountain.

“Hungry customer, good for business,” he comments, smirking, and then he looks me in the eyes and comes in for a kiss. His kiss is hot, wet and sloppy, and makes a fire burn inside me. Then, his tongue pushes between my lips. I soon notice it’s so hot and fat and long that it almost behaves completely muscular cock. Immediately, he also starts stroking my center cock with his powerful hand, as I continue doing the same to my two sidecocks, and gasp trying to breath as his tongue is almost fucking my face. Soon I can’t resist anymore, and all at once, my six balls throb and tremble, my three cocks explode and a river of spunk comes out of them, tiring my whole body. As my body turns into true cum cannons, my seed rains over the tables, hits the walls and even the counter around me. The abundance of my white creme is so much my whole body trembles so my muscles can eject it out of my system.

I wake up on a long couch, seeing a wooden ceiling above me. The smell of coffee inundates my nose once again, as I slowly bring my left arms up to scratch my head. “What a crazy dream…” I say out loud, still unaware of what had truly transpired.

“It wasn’t a dream. Welcome to my Metacafé,” says a manly voice to the left of me, and I try to sit up, but I end up confusing all my movements and almost falling to the floor—there are just way more limbs than I remember or know what to do with. If I don’t fall, it’s because the manager stands up and holds my forelegs, helping them up so I don’t slide down, which causes my forecock’s shaft to rub against his body as he helps me lift my confused massive body.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, is this real?” I ask, confused, as I quickly see my four arms, noticing they are much thicker than I remember my two olden-days arms had been. I also see I’m naked, with three long cocks fallen to the side and resting on the floor, still oozing leftover cum, and four legs spread around as my balls rest on top of my… extended torso between my fore and back legs.

“I can’t live like this,” I say, looking desperately towards the burly and handsome man who went back to sitting on a chair near me. He is clearly more than a bit older than me, and he wears a name tag that reads ‘Kevin B. R., Manager’ on his shirt, right on his nice pecs.

“It is real, but don’t worry, anything that is done can be undone,” he says, and then slaps my massive chest. “To revert all this though, it will cost you some money.”

“I’ll pay!” I say, trying to sit up but not managing to do that given the changes in my lower body. What I did manage was to have my lower set of hands rubbing my sidecock’s fat shafts, and that did calm down me a bit.

“Good, and if you can’t, we have ways for you to pay us back,” he guarantees, but then glances at my hands rubbing my rearcocks, as my forecock itself becomes a bit more engorged. “But before that, don’t you think you should milk your pecs first?” he asks, and as I look down at my four massive pecs I notice my large nipples. As I move two of my four hands to my pecs, I do feel some thin liquid flowing down, a volume which seems to increase as I touch and rub my own muscles.

“No, that’s not necessary,” I say, trying to sound serious but actively moaning as my hands coop and squeeze my pecs, as another pair of hands works up two of my manly members. “I don’t want to have any milk to be milked, to be honest,” I lie. The manager raises an eyebrow, and shrugs, but then brings his body closer to mine, and licks my lower left pec just below my nipple, tasting in my milk.

“What a waste. I’d love to add your special flavor to our menu,” he says, and pulls away. “I wonder what it would do to people,” he says pondering for a second. Before I can ask any question, he continues: “Are you sure you don’t like this form? I can give you one of our special toffees and you won’t have to worry about it anymore,” he says, and I frown.

“What? No! No more changes, please,” I say, but my cocks actually tremble, and seem to become more engorged, as their slits allow more fluid out.

“No, no, those toffees won’t change you any further,” explains the manager. “They simply make the changes invisible for 24 to 48 hours, to most people. It doesn’t work with people who either have consumed our products and a few special cases, but generally you can live a 100% normal life by eating those… with some minor adjustments,” he says.

I shake my head vehemently.

“No way, thanks. I’d rather just get changed back,” I say, and the manager nods. I think for a while and then cough. “But, I mean, it’s not like I can’t come over again, right?” I ask, getting slightly embarrassed.

“Sure, you can! Whether you like it or not, you are one of us now,” he says, ominously, and then slaps my lower set of massive pecs. “Also, you may want to come back this Friday, it’s when we have our 25th anniversary party,” he says.

I sigh, laying down back on the couch, letting my worries evaporate a little now that I know I can go back to normal, and just enjoy it as I touch my own body.

“Well, congratulations, then,” I say as my cocks start to rise. “Maybe you can change me back now?” I ask, closing one eye and moaning, as I indulge in accepting the deliciousness of the sexual pleasure this body grants me, now that I have also decided to let it go.

The manager nods, stands up, and lowers his pants, revealing his long and nice semisoft manhood, of about 21 centimeters. He then lowers his upper torso towards my rear legs, raising them, to reveal my tight and round ass.

“Two ways to do that,” says the manager. “One is to get the perfect mix of drinks to get your body back to what it was before. Unfortunately, we didn’t take your measurements before you had your drink.”

I gulp as I feel his thick muscles lift my ass up, my rear legs falling on my torso, my ass cheeks spreading out, and my two rear cocks between them—which my lower set of arms had been stroking—falling heavily on either side of the couch.

“And the other one?” I ask.

He smiles, and lowers his face on my ass, biting my ass cheeks. “That’s the easiest one. I open you up, fuck you and use my seed to erase all the changes at once,” he says and my face becomes hot, although I smile too, looking up as him as his tongue starts to lick my ass. I hum, and moan, feeling his strong wet tongue penetrating my hole.

“No side-effects?” I ask, moaning more and more relaxed. The manager pulls back from my ass, and lower it back on the couch, keeping it pointing up by supporting it with a few pillows.

“Not really… but people do tend to then come to want for more.”


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