Nobody’s perfect

by Also Known As

 A psychologist prepares himself to meet the subject whose response to the enhancement drug was so intense that just to be near him is to risk erotic overload… a man known only as Twenty-Five.

Added: Feb 2022 Updated: 14 May 2022 27,850 words 14,706 views 4.9 stars (24 votes)


“You haven’t met him, then?”

“No, but I’ve heard about him.”

“What have you heard?”

“Impossible things.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I mean, like he’s nearly impossible to look at without cumming.”

“Uh huh.”

“Both men and women. Literally irresistible.”

“That’s pretty accurate.”

“It is?”

“He was a pretty good looking guy before the treatments. But that’s not unusual.”

“Right. And the… other things?”

“His massive sexual prowess? His massive libido? His massive athleticism and flexibility? His massive muscular development? His massive…?”


“Also accurate.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Everybody does. And then they meet him.”

“Is there any explanation?”

“For the effects?”

“For everything.”

“None that we’ve found so far. Nothing physical anyway. Maybe he’s just…”


“Extremely lucky.”

“Or gifted.”

“Extremely gifted.”

“How did he get the name?”

“It was a joke at first. Like, ‘on a scale of one to ten.’”

“He’s a twenty-five.”

“Exactly. But also he was Subject 25, and as we were keeping identities secret during the testing phase, we referred to everyone as their subject number.”

“I’m interested to know why I haven’t met him until now.”

“It didn’t seem necessary.”

“I’ve met with every other subject for psychological evaluation.”

“Of course. Standard procedure.”

“Yet he was never on my docket.”

“As I said, it didn’t seem necessary. Like everything else about him post-procedure, he adapted with almost preternatural ease.”

“Superhuman is a term I’ve heard repeatedly.”

“That could be applied to any number of his… special talents.”

“So, why now?”

“We need your special talents for him to realize the extent of his effect on others.”

“I’m not sure I understand. How could he not know? From his dossier and the observation reports, his effect is not just considerable, it is very nearly disabling.”

“Only two or three have been incapacitated. And he was genuinely distressed about that.”


“Unable to function normally.”

“What did he do to them?”

“Nothing extraordinary. In one case he simply shook the man’s hand. In another, it happened as soon as he walked into the room. But that was two weeks ago. He’s altered even more since then.”

“And what accounts for that?”

“As you know, the drug was designed for male enhancement.”

“Hard-on pills.”

“Blunt, but accurate. But there are already any number of successful formulas available, both prescription and over-the-counter. Existing pharmaceuticals are fairly centralized to physically altering certain processes to achieve erection and enhanced libido.”


“This drug was designed as a next step, but we made it perhaps too powerful. Too rigorous.”


“It is designed to fully enhance all masculine qualities, at least those that can be identified as chemical in nature.”

“I know all this.”

“What you don’t know is that under certain circumstances and in special cases, the process becomes self-actualized.”


“Like any other male enhancement drug, the effects were supposed to be temporary. They would wear off. But, as I said, under certain circumstances they don’t.”

“And that’s bad?”

“I wasn’t finished. Not only do the effects linger, they begin to… to stack. To proliferate. To build on themselves and become stronger. And as they grow more prevalent, they increase in effectiveness. Over and over. Again and again. Until effectively the subject is, well, perfect.”

“Nobody’s perfect.”

“You may want to reassess that cliche after meeting 25.”

“So, I’m going to meet a perfect man.”

“As perfect as they come.”

“And you believe he needs my help because he’s unaware of these effects?”

“Not completely unaware, of course. It would be difficult for him to ignore causing individuals he meets to spontaneously orgasm.”


“Powerfully orgasm.”

“Yes, well….”

“Very powerfully.”


“Multiple times in immediate succession.”

“And there’s nothing you can do to mitigate this process?”

“Not so far. We’ve tried reversing it, or even just making its development less powerful. But it is now a self-generating process that seems to be evolving on a constant basis.”

“He’s getting more perfect?”

“He becoming something that, well, I guess I should introduce you.”

“Should I… prepare?”

“You can’t prepare for 25. At least, any more than I’ve already prepared you. He’s wearing a full body covering and a mask over his face.”

“He’s that powerful? Just to look at him.”

“Just looking at him, yes. I can show you some pictures, which don’t seem to have the same dramatic effect as being with him in person. Perhaps the camera lens cannot adequately capture what he’s become. What he continues becoming. And being with him in person also exposes you to his other… massive talents.”

“I understand.”

“You don’t, of course. Because you can’t. All we can hope for now is that you can help him adjust to his new… everything. Because it’s not stopping. And he’ll just keep getting stronger.”

“I’ll do my best, though this is territory that no one has explored before. I’ve worked with patients adjusting to deformities or loss of limbs or other bodily changes, but not the other way.”

“Of course. I’ll leave you now and 25 will join you shortly.”


“I’d tell you to brace yourself, but nothing can prepare you for 25.”

The room was very quiet as I sat at a small table facing an empty chair. It was like more like a lab than an office, certainly not my choice for meeting a new patient.

The other subjects I had met had been, to varying degrees, quite attractive. I suppose the drug would make the company millions or billions of dollars, assuming its side effects could be mitigated.

And what an odd side effect this was. If they were lucky, it would be limited to this one man, about whom I knew almost nothing. How old he was, what he did for a living, or even his real name. All I knew was what I had been told prior to this meeting, much of which was nearly impossible to understand, let alone believe.

I had been in situations like this before. The final step dealing with difficult cases of body alterations and the coping mechanisms required to maneuver new pathways in life. But nothing like this one.

Then again, no one had ever been subjected to changes like this.

I looked up as the door opened and a figure cloaked in loosely hanging garments entered. I was like the scene in The Elephant Man where the poor figure was uncovered to the shock of his scientific audience.

This Elephant Man looked to be nearly seven feet tall, with very wide shoulders and a jutting, prominent chest. He made no sounds as he entered, and then he silently closed the door and stood somewhat apart from me, very still.

“Hello,” I said.

He nodded, not speaking.

“Would you like to sit down?”

He paused and then did so, moving slowly towards me as if I were some tiger ready to bite his hand off—not that I could even see his hands, which were gloved.

“I’m Dr. James. What should I call you?”

“Twenty Five,” he said. Immediately, at the sound of his voice—a deep, masculine timbre that seemed to reverberate off the walls—a chill of erotic desire ran up my spine and my breath caught in my throat. Either he observed my reaction or he was used to this happening, because he said, “Sorry,” quickly after, which was accompanied by another throbbing sense of sexual pleasure.

“Oh,” I said, surprised. “There’s no need to apologize. Actually, it felt rather nice.”

He dipped his head slightly. It was a bit like trying to have a conversation with a ghost. All his features—save his overall muscular bulk and noticeably unusual height—were hidden from sight.

“Would you care to remove your hood?”

“No,” he replied.

“I’ve been told what to expect. You have no need to fear.”

“You do,” he said. Each utterance was like a stroke of my cock or a lick of my asshole. It was erotic in the extreme.

“I understand, but it’s my choice. Perhaps taking off your gloves?”

He paused as if considering, but eventually he raised his hands above the surface of the table and began tugging at the fingers of his left glove with his right hand. As he removed the glove, revealing his naked hand, there was nothing I could see that was particularly amazing or remarkable about it, other than he had very lovely nails that shone as if they had been polished. Perhaps I lacked the certain sexual fetish that would have otherwise made my own libido tingle.

He stopped after one hand and his head raised. I assume he was looking for a reaction and when I made none, he removed the other glove as well.

“Well,” I said, “you do have lovely hands.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you feel comfortable showing me more?”


“Okay. Do you feel comfortable talking with me?”

“No,” he answered.

“I appreciate your honesty, 25. But I’m here to help you, and it’s going to be something of a challenge if we can’t converse.”

“What does it feel like?”

I presumed he was referring to my reaction to the sound of his voice, but I decided not to assume anything. “What does what feel like?”

“When I speak?”

“Satisfying. Warm. Certainly there’s something sexually pleasing that happens. What does it feel like to you?”


He was very shut off, which was hardly unusual given his circumstances. “I enjoy the sensation, 25. I’m being honest with you. It doesn’t make me scared, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Sometimes…” He stopped.

“Sometimes what?”

“Sometimes I can feel it.”

“The sensation of your voice?”

“What others feel.”

“You can feel what I feel?”

“Not you. Only sometimes.”

“Is that a good thing? That you can’t feel me?”

“It makes it easier.”

“Good. I don’t want to make things more difficult. Are you comfortable revealing your face?”


“May I ask why?”

“When people see me they… react.”

“So I’ve been informed. I’m told that on at least two occasions you caused people to…”

“They fainted.”

“When they looked at you?” He nodded. “I shall try not to faint, then.” I think he laughed, but I don’t know if it was humor or sarcasm that caused it. “What if you only reveal a bit of your face? Just your mouth?”

He pulled in a slow, deep breath. It made his mammoth chest rise and swell. “Are you certain?”

“Yes. Quite certain. It will also help me know you better, and if I’m to help you at all we need to establish trust. So trust me when I tell you I shall try not to faint.” Honestly, I couldn’t imagine what there was about his countenance that might cause such a drastic reaction. I’ve seen hideous faces that might cause some to turn away or even scream.

He listed his hands to hem of the cloth covering his head and inched it upwards. I saw his chin, and then his jawline, and eventually he showed his mouth to me. He had two lips, like most people, and I admit that they had an unusual… something… about them. I felt a sudden urge to kiss them, as if I knew immediately that they would feel like no other lips I had ever kissed. Soft, warm, wet, sensual. I licked my lips ad swallowed dryly, somewhat taken aback by my own reaction.

“So far, so good,” I reported. “Not feeling faint at all.”

His lips smiled and a thrill of erotic desire pulsed through me. “Okay,” he said. Watching his mouth move as his words came out made my dick throb.

“Maybe a nose?”

“Maybe,” he said. His voice seemed amplified for some reason, now that his mouth was uncovered. The sensation of arousal that accompanied each utterance was also amplified. He pulled the cloth up higher and I could see his nostrils and the bridge of his nose. Again, I had never before felt that a nose was in any way sexy or attractive, but his was. I can’t explain it in words other than to say that his mouth and nose were the more attractive mouth and nose I had ever seen.

“Still okay,” I reported, as a trickle of sweat ran down my spine. The room was no warmer than it had been, but I certainly was.

He licked his lips, showing me a wet, pink tongue I wanted applied to my asshole. I wanted that tongue licking my own lips and pushing inside my mouth and wrestling with my own. An entire world of erotic pleasure seemed to accompany the appearance of the tip of his tongue running itself across his sensual lips.

The cloth started moving upwards again. Now I could see his perfect jawline clearly, and the way his gorgeous cheekbones made him look handsome and rugged. He had a dusting of whiskers across his lower face, and I wanted to move my hand along those tiny hairs knowing that each one would feel like the most gorgeous tactile pleasure against the tender skin on the palm of my hand.

My brain was manufacturing an onslaught of sexual desires. I could imagine so many things I wanted to do to this man, and things I wanted him to do to me. These were sensations of lust and ardor more intense than I had ever felt before.

When he pulled the cloth up and I saw his eyes, now revealing his face in its entirety, I confess that my heart was beating very fast and a sensation of the loss of consciousness started to envelope me.

He was not just physically gorgeous, he was a god. He blinked his eyes and I felt the floor giving away. It took all I had, every ounce of strength, to maintain a semblance of normality as sensations of utter desire and horniness surrounded my senses and enveloped my emotions. “Oh my,” I managed to whisper, now that he had revealed his face to me.

And then the cloth dropped back down and he sat back, making his chair creak and groan.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No, I’m sorry. But I appreciate your dilemma more now. I don’t suppose I could have prepared myself fully, so I apologize for doubting and belittling your fears about my reaction.”

“It always happens.”

“I understand, 25. It must be very difficult for you.”

“It’s impossible. It’s a nightmare.”

Before I had experienced what I just experienced, I would have doubted his words. Who wouldn’t want to be beautiful? But apparently there are extents of physical beauty that are beyond what I had imagined.

A glimpse of 25’s face had caused intense sexual carnality to manifest so strongly that I could literally not resist them. I sat back as well, reconsidering my approach to the problem this man presented, and the challenges he faced.

“I… I would say that I understand but obviously I can’t. To be honest with you, I didn’t believe the extent of the problem could be as deep as it was explained to me, but I was very wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Please take off your hood, 25.”

“I can’t. You felt it. You know what will happen.”

“I felt it, indeed. But if we’re to get anywhere in helping you adjust to your new life, you can’t wear a hood and cloak everywhere you go. I will tell you what I tell every other patient of mine, who are dealing with a variety of body changes over which they also have no control. Your body may have changed but you have not, and there is no reason to feel shame, or fear, or guilt. You are not your body. You are you, so please let me meet you, 25.”

He took in another deep breath and I believe I calmed him down. He set his fingers to the hem of the hood again and this time he lifted it off his head entirely and set it on the table.

I confess that I steeled my nerves for the reveal and probably looked rather stiff and uncomfortable sitting across the table from him. I will also confess that I did have am odd, very unexpected sensation of losing control of myself.

I have never seen anyone who was as physically beautiful as 25. Man nor woman, no one else could compare to the man now sitting across from me. He was perfect. Gorgeous. Someone who not only made me achieve a nearly instant erection, but caused me to break out in a sweat of carnal desire so total that I had to grab the edges of the table in my hands to keep from leaping across the space that separated us and pushing my mouth against his and running my fingers through his shining, soft, warm mane of beautiful hair and falling headlong into the erotic and sensual depth of his gaze.

His fucking eyelashes made me want to cum.

“Hello,” I whispered.

He smiled. I squeezed my butt hole to stop from ejaculating. “Hello,” he replied. I watched his eyes scan down my body. It was a look I ascribed so much lust into that it couldn’t possibly be true. Everything about 25’s face read to me like a man who wanted to tear my clothes off and offer me the most amazing sexual experience that I could ever have. And I read all that in his glance down my body.

“You’re quite remarkable,” I said, though I didn’t mean to.

“I know,” he replied. It sounded like he just asked me to fuck him. “How are you going to help me?”

“I’m… I deal with people who’ve been through very dramatic…” My words suddenly evacuated my brain.

“Very dramatic?” He tilted his head. My nipples tingled.

“Sorry. Very dramatic physical trauma.”

“Like, car accidents?”

I nodded, trying to find where my words had gone to. I wasn’t sure I could even blink. I was unwilling to avert my gaze for even a moment from his face. His eyes. His mouth. His ears. His neck. “Accidents, fires, anything that alters one’s body in a dramatic way.”

“Oh. Well, I guess I qualify for that.”

I nodded again.

“Not an accident or fire, obviously.”

“Obviously,” I agreed.

“You seem to be adjusting okay.”

“Adjusting.” The only words I could find were the ones he was saying to me.

“You’re still over there,” he observed.

“Over there.”

“Yeah. Usually we’d be making out by now.”

“Making out.”

He settled his hands on the table, one over the other. His fingernails looked like glass, smooth and polished. “Do you like making out? Kissing? Are you a good kisser? Do you think?”

“A good kisser.”

He nodded and smiled. “I like kissing. Weird thing. Or, I guess, another weird thing.”

“A weird thing.”

“It feels really good.”

“Feels good.”

“Really good. I mean, kissing always felt good, you know? Everyone likes kissing. Being kissed. You probably like being kissed.”

“Being kissed.”

“But since… everything. Making out feels amazing.”


“Everything feels amazing.”


25 raised his hands to the collar of his cloak, the dark garment draped over his body. “Yeah. Kissing. Kissing my lips. Kissing my neck. Kissing my ears. I can feel your lips on my body really… intense. It’s as if the knobs got turned up.”


He smiled and pulled his hands apart, ripping the cloth apart. “Yeah. And then everyone tells me I feel really good, too.”

“Feel good.”

“No matter what I touch you with, or where, it feels amazing.”

“Touch you.”

He pulled his hands apart, and his throat and shoulders started to reveal themselves. “I don’t wear clothes under this. I hope you’re okay with that.”

“Okay with that,” I agreed.

“Great. Because clothes don’t feel as good as skin, you know? Like, being naked?”


“Yeah. Being naked is great. Putting my hands all over my body. Rubbing my nipples, Caressing my chest. Do you… want to see my chest?”


“Okay.” He pushed the chair back and ripped the material open. His chest was mammoth. Huge beachballs of muscle coated in warm, soft curls of fur. He had silver dollar sized nipples, round and dark against his smooth, silken skin. The cloth fell away from his shoulders and dried down his torso, revealing his upper arms bulging with thick, form muscle. “Do you like my chest?”

He looked down at himself, setting his thumbs against his nipples and rubbing them slowly. He closed his eyes and moaned with a deep, feral sound that made my cock throb and a sudden eruption of pre-cum surge up the shaft. “I love having my nipples played with,” he said. “It’s like there’s this electrical wire charged with pure sex connected from my nipples to by cock.”

The cloth was still covering his lower body, but now I watched a thick, long, heavy pipe rising between his legs. It was inches high and growing taller. A dark patch appeared on the cloth where the rounded head of his prick was pressed against it. “Feels fucking amazing.”

“Fucking amazing.”

He opened his eyes and looked at me. “Do you know what it feels like to be fucked by me?”

“Fucked by you.”

“I mean, I’m on this end of it, obviously, so I can only judge by how my partners scream with utter bliss as I push my prick inside them. But to me there’s nothing else in the world that feels as great.”

“Feels great.”

“Yeah, man. And it doesn’t matter who I fuck, everyone has the same reaction.” He stood up, shoving the chair back with his legs. The following dark cloth fell off his hips and down his body, lying on the floor around his feet. He put one hand on his cock—a massive shank of pure sex leaking a steady stream of pre that draped down etc sides of his giant erection like syrup—and began slowly stroking himself. “Everyone loses their shit when I fuck them.”

I was now exposed to 25 in his full naked glory and no one could have prepared me for the sight of him.

Masculine perfection only scratched the surface of what I was looking at. Every inch of him, every millimeter, was made of sex. His scent reeked with it. It poured off his skin like perfume. It radiated against me like the sun, but made of cock and balls and ass instead of light and heat.

He stroked himself as he looked at me and I realized that he was evolving in front of me. That this was what made him grow with power. It was seduction. It was lust. It was craving. Once he had succumbed to it, once it overpowered him as it would always ultimately do, his body would only grow more intensely sexual.

I was dumbfounded and locked in place. I was helpless before him.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he said.

“Fuck me.”

He smiled and nodded. “You’ll never be the same after. Did they tell you that? Maybe they don’t even know it, but I do. See, this thing I am now, this beast, this monster, it feeds on sex. On desire. On lust. It grows stronger. Swollen inside me until my body can’t stop it and I get bigger, more powerful, more beautiful. I feed it and it grows.

“Look at me now. Can you see what I am?”

I looked at him, at his perfection, at his beauty, at his utter irresistible sexual potency. He glowed with it. Like a god.

“I’m glad we found each other. Because after I fuck you, you’ll be mine. And you’re going to tell them I’m cured. I’m perfect. I’m ready to leave this place and go out there, into the world of people awaiting me. So I can fuck, and fuck, and fuck, and fuck. Getting bigger, and stronger, and more beautiful every fucking day.”


He spat into his hand. “Bend over, baby. Daddy’s home.”

It’s really not fair, how sexy I am. I’m not boasting or exaggerating. I’m not overestimating my incredible sexiness, I can see it every day. Every minute. Every second. It’s in the way I make others feel, how they look at me, leer at me, lust after me. And I don’t blame them at all. Fuck, I wish I was looking at my own perfect ass right now.


I smiled hearing his voice again. The trepidation and the desire in it, seeing my name pop up on his screen. “Hello.” It was all I said. One word. But I heard him groan with sexual ecstasy through my phone’s tiny speaker. Even diluted by electronics and distance, the power of my voice was undeniable. “Can you come over?”

He groaned again. I think he came in his drawers. “I….”

“Alone?” He knew I could handle a dozen partners at the same time and satisfy every one of them, but when I concentrated myself on one person it was like traveling to Fuck planet in the Fuck galaxy on a fuck rocket fueled by fuck. I just can’t help myself, I’m insanely good at sex.

“I have a meeting in fifteen minutes.”

“And after that?”


“Do you want something to tide you over until then?”


This was so easy. I barely had to try anymore. I licked my lips, closed my eyes, pictured my own naked reflection, grabbed my huge cock in my talented hand, felt my cock swell and thicken and harden and surge with power, and said, slowly and deeply, “Fuuuuuuuuuuck.”

He groaned again and I knew I made him come. He started breathing hard and was lost for words.

“See you soon,” I said, and hung up.

It’s not without its own challenges, this situation I find myself in. I can’t say I didn’t ask for it, because I did. I wanted this. I just didn’t know how powerful the results would be. No one else did either, apparently.

And now I had to be careful. Not too careful, thankfully, because my sex drive is now as strong as a tidal wave and as constant as breathing. I try to avoid mirrors because I even turn myself on. Looking down at my muscular body is enough to get my balls churning and my dick throbbing, but seeing my reflection can have the same effects on me as seeing me has on anyone else.

That’s why I’m careful. Getting out of the lab was relatively easy. Convincing the good doctor that I was no longer a danger to others and that I understood what my effect was, that wasn’t difficult. It helps that after having sex with me, people will do whatever I ask just for the chance that we could do it again.

I hope it feels as good for them as it does for me. It’s nearly uncontrollable, the volume of erotic bliss I experience when I’m with anyone else. It doesn’t even take that much effort. A stroke, a kiss, a touch, hell I think the right person could breathe on my exposed neck and make me come.

And I can come constantly, now. Or nearly constantly, anyway. It’s not like I’ve taken a test or something to see how often I can come and how much cum I can produce. But… it’s a lot. Plus it doesn’t take a lot of coaxing to get my balls pumping and my dick throbbing and a fat fountain of sticky, warm, delicious cum to fountain from my prick like a fucking… fountain.

Sorry, words were never my strong point. Plus, it’s like every word I utter now can make a dude hard and start leaking pre all over his dick. Which, obviously, makes me horny.

Hornier. If that’s even possible.

When I’m not coming I’m thinking about coming, and my balls are throbbing and swelling, and my dick is throbbing and swelling, and my ass is tingling and pulsing.

So I jerk off a lot. Because of the being careful thing. And because I have to. Otherwise it feels like I’ve got so much cum in my fat balls that they’re gonna burst.

I put my phone down and saw my arm. The insane muscularity of it. The soft curls of hair. The vascular rivers pulsing under my insanely silken skin. My dick pulsed and released a fresh delivery of pre, pumping a thick drool of the sex-scented honey that swelled into a small orb at the lips of my piss slit and grew into a thick, warm delivery cascading down the thick inches of cock I own. I pushed three fingers into the honey and lifted them to my mouth to taste the insane erotic flavor of my near constant delivery. It hit my tongue like lightning, a sizzling delivery of salty pre that somehow could plug directly into the pleasure centers of my brain and make my dick pump another thick drool almost instantly.

I needed sex. Jerking off was all well and good, and it partially relieved my constantly starving libido, but I needed to fuck someone. And I needed someone to fuck me. I needed a mouth on my cock and a cock in my ass and a tongue in my mouth and hands fucking everywhere, all over my glorious naked body. Nothing was off the table as far as pleasure was concerned. Tease me, lick me, kiss me, suck me, fuck me.

Ideally I would have invited over a whole platoon of men to service my needs, like I had done on the first day of escaping my captivity. I walked outside and stripped off that stupid cloak and immediately the first, like, dozen people I encountered were all over me. And I was all over them. I came a few times and stayed hard, like I do now, and they were batshit crazy with lust and a few of them passed out before I reigned myself in a bit so as not to drive them all crazy with my fuck power.

They were right to be cautious—to be afraid—of what I had become. Even I didn’t know the full extents of the power I now wielded when it came to sex and lust and erotic capacity.

Thing is? I can suppress it if I really want to, but I find that I don’t want to. It feels good. Better than good. It’s all I crave now. And when I suppress it, it’s kind of like a balloon that’s being constantly inflated without a release. More and more, bigger and bigger, this desire and lust and passion. I can feel it almost like a drug, but it’s both feeding me and demanding to be fed.

He wouldn’t be over for another hour, at least, although I had planted in his brain an insatiable need for what only I can give him, so it was more likely he’d find some excuse to get out of seeing his patient and whatever their insignificant problems were when compared to the overwhelming and undeniable sexual power I could deliver with one finger pressed against his nipple.

When all this started? I guess I was expecting, you know, more hard-ons. I was a college student in need of some funds and wasn’t having any trouble getting it up, but if someone wants to pay me a few hundred dollars to take some pills to try to increase my libido and “enhance my masculinity,” sign me up!

But in retrospect, what I thought being a man felt like, what I thought what it was, that was just the smallest iota of its true power. I was a hot, horny, muscled up boy back then, and now I’m more man than anyone has ever been. I sweat pure testosterone. I cum thick loads of the purest manifestation of masculine power the world has ever known. I swallow it when I come, so I know what it is, what it tastes like, how it feels inside you when you gulp down my torrent and allow it to swell inside you, working its way into your muscles and cock, making you so hot you’d swear you could fuck forever.

And still that’s just a whisper of the deep-throated shout of heavy duty dick power pulsing in my blood.

I love being a man, and everything that implies. I don’t like labels so I don’t call myself gay or bi or ‘curious,’ but I like having sex. With other people who also like having sex. It’s mutually beneficial and occasionally really hot.

Now it’s always hot. Which was what they promised. “Heightened arousal and amplified sexual pleasure.” I mean, who would say no to that? Even if I had known how heightened and amplified I’d end up being, I still would have done it.

What’s it feel like? Being the ultimate man? Maybe you think it’s all about domination, about stepping into a space and announcing your presence and demanding that everyone there is your bitch. Maybe you think it feels like power, like that feeling after a hard workout, that kind of singing in your muscles and your body is sweaty and hard and you feel so strong.

Well, sort of, but I know I’m the alpha in the room. I don’t need to prove anything to anyone. When I’m there, no one else compares to me. No one. I don’t give a shit if you’ve been working out your whole life and developed a body bulging with muscle. I don’t care if you own a big cock, a thick, meaty, juicy shank of throbbing sex that you can hardly fit in your drawers. I don’t care how tall you are, or how big, or how strong or how much you fuck.

I am the alpha. I am the epitome of male glory and no one, fucking no one even comes close. I just… know it. It’s what I am.

Which isn’t to say that I have no regrets at all. Just walking around and inspiring sudden and undeniable orgasms from everyone else was kind of surprising, to say the least. Could I help it if I was so fucking sexy and beautiful that everyone I met came? So what if I can smile at someone and make them shudder with an orgasm so intense that their knees go weak and they fall to the floor in complete ecstasy?

I knew they would pitch a fit once that happened, so I had to pretend that it scared me. That I was ashamed of it. “Oh no! I’m so sorry I made you fucking explode with the most powerful fucking orgasm you’ve ever experienced and all I did was lick my lips! Oh no!”

The opposite was true, of course. It turned me on even more. Feeling all those people erupt with thick loads of hot cum felt as if I was being doused in fire. I could feel them getting aroused, and it drove my own arousal. I was feeding off it, and swallowing it down, and holding it inside me until I grew stronger still.

I’m not a monster, no matter what anyone thinks. I mean, yeah, once someone is with me they’re kind of like my slave. They’ll do anything I ask to get another taste. I’m like the ultimate drug, the ultimate euphoria, doing to someone’s pleasure centers what heroin can do, but accompanied with an awesome, overwhelming orgasm!

From my perspective, this is a win-win, right? I get whatever I want, they get the best fucking orgasm they’re ever going to get, and I can give it to them over and over and over and we both enjoy it. Hell, I bet I enjoy it more than they do, I just don’t go fucking crazy afterwards.

There is one little—or rather, big problem, and that’s my dick. It’s fucking enormous. And it keeps getting bigger and there’s not a lot of indication that it’s going to stop. Don’t get me wrong, they still beg for it. “Just a touch!” Or “Please let me lick it!” Or “I can’t believe how beautiful it is!”

Everything is fucking beautiful. It’s weird, kind of, how attractive I am, even to me. Like, what are the things about me—the way I look, the way I move, the way I speak, hell, even the way I just stand there—that make me so fucking gorgeous? Again, not being an egotistic asshole, here, it’s just a fact. A fact I can back up with dozens of actual people erupting with huge loads into their pants when all I do is look at them.

Fuck, I need to get off. I’m gonna go stand in front of the mirror admiring myself, sniff my pits, rub my hole, play with these fucking sensitive nips and empty my fat balls a few times. That always helps relieve the pressure, at least until the good doctor gets here. I owe him a lot for getting me the hell out of there.

I bet I could fuck myself now.

I knew it was wrong but I couldn’t help myself. Literally, I could not.

If you’ve been with him, you’ll understand. Hell, if you’ve merely seen him in person, you’d probably line up behind me to see what you could do for him. To honor him. To worship him. To be with him.

I still call him 25 because that’s what he calls himself. It’s as good as any other name, I guess. Plus it serves as a kind of password, keeping him secret until we can’t keep him secret anymore.

I didn’t have to sneak him out or anything. I mean, this was just a pharmaceuticals company, not some secret military lab buried in the side of a mountain in an abandoned missile silo. It was a regular building on a regular street of a lot of other buildings. I signed him out, I told them he was fine, that he was in fact perfect, and no one had anything to fear from him.

I think that’s true. At least, it is for now. He may be sexually irresistible and a walking mountain of thickly developed muscle with a cock as huge and thick as I’ve ever seen, but he’s curiously passive. Almost docile. Like he knows he doesn’t have to try to be the dominant man in the room, he doesn’t have to prove a god damned thing to anyone. He just… is.

When 25 fucked me, I admit I was scared initially. I mean, he’s huge. But I don’t know what he’s got in those balls of his but when he touched my hole with that slippery pole of his, drooling streams of warm, slick pre, it just felt good. Then it felt great. Then it felt amazing. Then I never wanted him to stop.

He grabbed my hips and used me like some fuck toy, pulling me back onto his massive shank of sex over and over until I started fucking him back. I wanted him as deep inside me as he could go. I’d never felt so… complete. So perfectly blissful. I’m surprised my moans of utter sexual fulfillment didn’t set off alarms. I’m also shocked I could pull off a straight face when we both walked out of that room after he’d pumped a few fat loads of cum inside me and my body was vibrating like a violin string that had been played by a virtuoso.

The moment he pulled himself out of me, I was his. I would have done anything for another thrust of that masterful prick. Another kiss from those soft, warm lips. Another stroke of his talented, strong hands along every inch of my flesh. It was more than sex, it was another level of fucking I never was possible.

He didn’t change me, exactly, but he knew—absolutely—that I was now his. Now and forever. No one else could possibly compare to the pleasure he delivered, the absolutely fulfillment of erotic perfection that pulsed and throbbed from every millimeter of his perfect male body.

I wasn’t even listening to whomever was talking in the meeting I attended as I looked down at my pad of paper and instead of notes, I was sketching a pretty good likeness of 25’s cock and balls. It’s like between my eyes and my ass, I had memorized every millimeter of his magical tool. The fat, drooling head, the long, thick, slightly curving shaft, its many gorgeous and powerful veins that pumped blood into its enormity to swell it larger and longer and thicker than any man’s cock had a right to be.

I realized my mouth was watering as I gazed at this facsimile of perfect masculine sex. My mind flashed back to those minutes we were together, me bent over grasping the table with my pants around my ankles as he thrust himself inside me, creating massive throbbing vibrations of pure erotic power that radiated out from his cock to every inch of my body. Fuck, even my fingertips were tingling with sex!

I pulled in a slow, calming breath and flipped the page over, trying to pull my concentration back to the meeting, but it was useless. I could feel the load he’d drained from my balls with his simple utterance of the word ‘fuck’ over the phone growing cold in my shorts. My cock was firm and my balls were swimming in cum, but I wanted more. I needed more.

I glanced at the clock again. Twenty minutes to go! Fuck, this is torture! I need his cock in me. I need to kiss his lips. I need to pull the fat, spongey head of his dick inside my mouth and suck him until he’s erupting with another awesome, thick load of cream down my throat.

I set my pen to the clean sheet of paper and started to sketch his mouth. The soft lips, the strong chin, his perfect smile, curved up on one corner because he was thinking how he was going to fuck me again. My dick throbbed and shoved against my zipper, coated in a massive delivery of cum that he had summoned from me with a word.

I glanced up at the room and no one was paying me any attention. My crotch, beneath the conference table, was tented with my hard-on and soaked in cum. I looked down and my dick throbbed. I wanted them to see! I wanted them to witness my masculine energy, and what 25 did to me! What was happening?

“Are you okay?” Someone spoke. The meeting was adjourned. My dick was now twitching and throbbing, aching to be near 25 again.

“I’m okay,” I said. I was suddenly flipping the pad of paper over to hide the drawing I’d made of 25’s mouth.

“You’re sweating,” they said.

I was. I was hot all over. Fucking in heat for him. For his touch. For his kiss. For his cock. “I’m… maybe I’m not feeling as well as I thought.”

“Maybe you should head home and take care of yourself.”

I was certainly going to take care of one important need, but I wasn’t headed home.

I texted 25 that I was on my way. He texted back a smiley face. I texted back that I was horny as fuck and that I’d knock three times and then come in, giving him time to hide so I could try preparing myself for being exposed to 25’s overwhelming… everything.

I knocked as I had indicated and turned the doorknob to his apartment, which was in a rather sad building in a rather sad neighborhood. I guess he needed the stipend that came with the lab test after all.

As I opened the door, three things assailed me immediately and dove straight to my dick. First, the room was rank with his scent. It was as if he had soaked his funk into sponges and applied it to the walls. The room was practically dripping testosterone.

Second, he was lying on his back on a weight bench naked, pumping what looked like a few hundred pounds of iron above his massive chest. His reps were slow but easy, like the weight wasn’t a burden at all. But even from this angle where I couldn’t see his face clearly, his body was beautiful. Thick cables of muscle lined his thighs. His fat cock, semi-form, was arching itself across his hip like a sausage, drooling pre onto the bench where it dripped to a puddle on the floor beneath him. His pecs were rising up as he worked out like moons coming over the horizon. His abs were finely cut and moving as he breathed.

Thirdly, he was making these very deep, very masculine grunts as he pumped the weight and I was immediately reminded of how he sounded when he fucked me. He wasn’t groaning, “oh, fuck yeah. Oh fuck you feel so good, baby. I could fuck you all night long.” But the grunts of power were the same.

He paused mid-pump as I entered, looking down his long body towards where I stood in his doorway, holding the bar above his chest easily.

“Hi,” 25 said. I almost forgot how the sound of his masculine voice could also cause such a dramatic sexual reaction to anyone hearing it, including me—and I was used to it!

“Fuck,” I said, overwhelmed all over again. “I thought you were going to hide.”

He shrugged and smiled, replacing the barbell in its holder above his head and then he sat up, and I swooned. His face! God, it was so beautiful. “Can’t hide all this gorgeousness forever, can I?” He allowed his arms to fall to his sides and then smiled as he looked down at himself. “Check it out, dude.” He closed his eyes and moaned, “Fuck yeah, feels so good.”

At first I didn’t know what he was referring to, and then I saw it. Rather, I saw them.

His pecs were slowly, very slowly, growing. It was subtle as hell, but growing more evident. I could see the stark bands of raw brawn multiplying. He was growing fresh, hard muscle before my eyes. Then he flexed his bigger pecs and made them dance for me.

“What the hell?”

He opened his eyes and looked up, running his big hands across the larger expanse of muscular globes mounted on his chest. “Yeah, it started today. At first I was all, no fucking way, that can’t be happening. But….” He grinned and leaned down, picking up two dumbbells into his hands and starting to perform flawless sets of biceps curls. He did only a dozen before hoisting the weights over his head and giving his triceps an equal workout before dropping the dumbbells to the floor.

Then he looked at me and lifted his arms and swelled all that beautiful, perfect muscle into softball-sized masses. He started to flex them, making his biceps grow hard and striated, but after each flex—they stayed larger. He was pumping his arms bigger just by flexing them. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

He dropped his arms to his sides and stood up, his massive cock flopping forward and hanging down his legs, the head now nearly to his knees. I think he was even taller than before, or at least taller than I remembered. Maybe it was just that the ceilings in his apartment were much shorter than the ones in the lab.

25 started out tall, but now he was towering over me, and I’m no slouch at 5’ 11’. He owned a flawlessly sculpted body of bulging muscle masses in absolutely unrivaled proportions. Even his now bigger chest and arms looked perfect on his body. I watched his pecs to see if he was still growing, but now that he was moving around I couldn’t discern that subtle increase of muscle mass.

He stepped forward, moving away from the sweat-covered bench, whose seat I longed to lick, and opened his thickly muscled arms to embrace me in a welcoming hug. It was like being surrounded by boulders covered in silk, and his erotic scent enflamed my libido like a drug.

He held me for a long time, and I didn’t want to separate, but eventually we did and I scanned his naked body, noticing new muscular development all over his frame. We had only been apart a day, but it looked like he’d gained ten or more pounds. “I don’t understand how you could possibly be growing like that….”

“Your disbelief doesn’t make it less true,” he pointed out logically, which just made him more attractive to me. “Oh! Also, there’s this.” He held his palm towards me and I looked at it curiously. “Sniff it,” he advised. I did. Something incredibly erotic entered my nostrils, something sexy and sensual, like a whiff of balls or leather. My dick throbbed and my own balls sizzled. “That’s my spit.”

“Your spit?”

He nodded and then smelled his hand. “I was jerking off earlier, no surprise there, I know. I mean, look at me. And I spat in my hand to, you know, lube up my grip like usual and then I caught a whiff of it, the spit on my hand, and it made me so fucking horny. So I was stroking my joint with one spit-slick grip while snorting the other hand like coke.” He grinned and lifted his arm, exposing his wet pit and the sodden curls of underarm hair in the deep, muscular chasm. “Same thing in there, only it’s harder for me to stick my nostrils in. Seems like it’s even stronger. Give it a snort, see for yourself. Oh! You might want to take your pants off first. It’ll make you fucking hard as a rock.”

Even before I pushed my nose into his sweaty arm pit, I could smell what he was describing. He was evidently now emitting a heady, erotic aroma so packed with raw carnal redolence that it was drilling itself through my nasal cavity directly into the pleasure centers of my brain. I could easily imagine myself sitting at home on my couch with a rag soaked in 25’s sweat and spit and jerking off for hours and hours.

25 still had his pit exposed and he moved his mouth towards it and stuck out his tongue, a long, wet, pink snake that danced and stretched until he was licking at the drops of sweat clinging to his fur. Then he was moaning a deep, guttural sound like a bear. “So fucking good,” he said, raising his hand to gather a wealth of his sweat onto his fingers and sucking it off. “So fucking good,” he repeated softly.

Then he looked at me and offered his sweaty fingers. “Suck it off, bro. I’ve never had Viagra but this shit works immediately and gets me hard as fucking steel.”

I did as he asked, as I would always do, and a sudden electric shock of sex erupted on my tongue. As I swallowed his sweat down my throat, that tingling sensation of intense erotic pleasure accompanied its trip inside me, branching out into my arms and hands and fingers, spreading through my belly and pelvis and loins until it sank its teeth into my cock and I was suddenly, almost painfully erect.

“So fucking good,” he said, smiling at me. Then he turned around, offering me a look at his perfect, arching ass and his widely tapered muscular back. “But all this shit, the aroma, the sexy spit, this always hard cock throbbing between my legs, these are all kind of nice, but it’s how I feel that’s really been altered.”

“Not sure I understand,” I replied honestly.

His back was still to me as he straightened, and his voice deepened. “It’s referred to as ‘male enhancement,’ this amazing drug of yours. And I signed up thinking it’d make me hornier, which obviously, and feel sexier, which ditto, and probably make my dick hard, not that I necessarily needed a harder one but now that I own it I couldn’t be happier with the result.” He turned around. He was heavily aroused, his fat, long cock arching up from his loins and throbbing hard, a thick drool of precum flowing from its mouth.

“But the enhancement part has also effected my emotions, and my ego, and my confidence.” He paused and smiled and then looked at me with his penetrating gaze. “I had a dream last night. It was very vivid, very lifelike. Have you had dreams like that? Difficult to separate from reality?” I nodded positively.

His smile softened even as his gaze hardened. “Do you know why the Alpha of a wolf pack is called that? It’s a commonly held belief that it is because that wolf is the most dominant, the one who will fight all the others for the right to be pack master. But that’s wrong. In fact, it’s nearly the opposite of the reason he is the Alpha.

“The Alpha gains his role not through fighting and contesting, but with fucking. He started his own pack. An alpha in the most literal sense. He separates from his old pack and starts a new one, because he can, or because he must. Making more of his pack by fucking more of his pack.

“You were in my dream. I was fucking you again, watching my cock shove in and out of your tight, pink ass hole. I could feel the strong vibrations of sexual bliss erupting along every inch of my colossus, feel my balls bulging with cum, feel my muscles tingle with the strength of new growth with every push inside you.

“Because with you, I was starting my pack. I was the Alpha, fucking you into my crew, my gang, my posse, my pack. And as I brought you in with each thrust of my hips and each groan of bliss rumbling in your throat and every throbbing, powerful sensation of pure masculine energy building inside me, poised to be shoved out of my prick in a thick, wet, gorgeous fountain of incandescent cream, I knew that you were only the first of many who would come to me, or be brought to me, or find me.

“And my pack would grow and grow, both in size and in power. Each of you would inherit my new enhanced male form, soaking it in from my sweat and my cum and my spit, slowly evolving your own forms to their most perfect shape, your bodies growing tall and wide and thick with gorgeous muscles, your cocks plumping thicker and inching forward to drape their massive shanks over your heavy balls fat with cum.”

He paused and held my gaze. I was trapped there, unable to move or to speak, looking at this man who was more than man, more than human, someone or something more beautiful and powerful and strong than anyone had ever been before.

“You are my first. More will come.”

“More will come,” I agreed.

“But for now….” His smile turned lascivious and he walked to me and tore the clothes from my body as if they were made of paper. “Your alpha needs to fuck.”

I told my friend the doctor that my pack would grow because the new members would come to me, or be brought to me, or find me, but I wasn’t talking on some weird metaphysical level or whatever. There was no, like, fuck magic involved. Although that seems cool. Fuck magic.

Anyway, alls I meant was that my new pack members couldn’t help but find me, because I was irresistible. I mean, hell, all I have to do is step outside on the sidewalk, fully clothed although I’m pretty much naked 24-7 these days because A, clothes don’t fit me anymore and B, I love being naked and showing my assets off.

I wonder if it makes a difference, whether I’m wearing clothes or not? I kind of want to do a test of some sort, like, me showing up in a suit, seeing what the reaction is, then me showing up in like jeans and a tight t-shirt or a tank top, my fat sensitive nips shoving against the cotton, see if the reaction is stronger or different, and then get some bondage gear, like some chaps and a harness and some leather armbands gripping these massive biceps with my big ol’ dick hanging out and these fat, cum-burdened balls slapping against my massively muscular thighs.

Fuck, I’m getting turned on just imagining seeing myself like that! I bet the good doctor would be willing to use his hard-earned cash to buy me whatever I wanted. Would that make me a whore? Charging for my time and my cock?

Fuck, I bet I could make a fucking mint in a weekend in Vegas. Show up on the Strip wearing like these tight fucking jeans hiked up my ass crack, the outline of the thick shank of my prick inching towards my hip, my enormous fucking pecs, coated in fur with these fat nips pointing at everyone to be sucked on. Take a few dudes back to my suite and have my way with all of them until I was satisfied, and then go out and do it all over again with a fresh batch of horny men because I am never, in fact, satisfied.

I do have more than a few monetary concerns now that I’m Fuckmaster Supreme, mostly having to do with my constant growing body, muscles, and cock.

For one thing, my little off campus one-bedroom apartment is feeling mighty cramped now that I’m nearing seven feet in height and weigh something like three-fifty. Those first big muscular growth spurts have slowed down a bit but they haven’t stopped. I guess the drug goes through some kind of activation period where everything happens really fast, and then it, like, settles in to a more sedate groove after the initial, you know, massive upgrade.

Then again I can’t really challenge my muscles anymore with the sad little weight set and worn out bench I have at home. I piled on every plate I can and now it just feels like nothing. I still like working out, even though it doesn’t feel like working out. I’m either gonna have to get some more plates for home or suck it up and go to the gym on campus. Probably cause a fucking riot when I show up, or a riot of fucking, or both.

Also I am constantly hungry. It’s less strenuous on me that the constant horniness, but it’s probably unsurprising that as my body continues its amazing growth and development, all these new muscles get hungry for protein. I can devour entire chickens and plateloads of veggies and pretty much anything I want to eat, no matter how bad it’s supposed to be for me, and it all gets turned into muscle. The more calories I consume, the faster it happens. I barely shit anything out anymore! It’s fucking weird!

Oh! Plus, like, my clothes. None of my old clothes fit anymore. Like, thank god for fucking Amazon, am I right? You can order fucking anything and it comes in like two days or something crazy. Right now I’m wearing a pair of gray sweatpants that I cut off at the knees three days ago and already they’re hugging my bubble butt like a second skin and you can make out my cock really obvious. Plus I’m wearing a jockstrap just to try to reign in the monster so it’s not, like, dangling out the hem of the sweats and drooling pre down my leg. Constant horniness is kinda messy, know what I mean?

Also the lab geniuses keep contacting me to pay them a visit so they can “check up on the progress of the project,” the project in question being little ol’ me. I’ve been putting them off because I know sure as shit they’re gonna have a freakout as massive as my big cock, which by the way now swells to an ungodly fourteen inches hard, while maintaining a not insubstantial nine inches soft—then again it’s rarely soft.

There are some other side effects I guess I hadn’t considered about becoming the sexiest man alive. Like, you probably are familiar with Morning Wood, or the propensity of one’s penis to maintain a state of arousal when first awakening.

Well, my Morning Wood is more like Morning Steel. And Noontime Iron. And Afternoon Hard as a Rock. I wake up with an erection so thick and hard and unyielding that I bet I could hammer nails into wood with it. It’s so big that turning over in bed is like having a third leg between my other two. And if I reach down and touch it, it feels hot and hard and starts, like, throbbing and vibrating and twitching like it’s gonna fucking explode or something—and then it does fucking explode all over my abs and chest and neck and chin and lips, pumping these thick ropes of hot cream about a dozen times as I gasp and groan and grab onto the sheets just to hang on and ride out the first incredible orgasm of the day.

Maybe having eight hours of downtime overnight builds up this massive reserve and I just can’t help it when my dick arches over my body and starts pumping fat fountains of cum as I hang on for dear life.

But, fuck, it feels so fucking good! The first cum of the day is amazing! And so far there’s no one there to help me out with it.

That’s probably the second big side effect of this situation, not that I’m complaining, but one partner just doesn’t cut it anymore. I fucking wear them out. But, I mean, I can’t logically spend all my time here calling up the good doctor and pulling up Tinder and, when I’ve gone through all those guys, Grindr, and when I’ve gone through all those guys, AdultFriendFinder.

25 keeps getting bigger and better, while I keep thinking there’s no way for that to happen, but it does!

He wasn’t wrong about building his pack, either. Whenever I turn up at his door I inevitably run into someone else leaving, and there’s this sort of… unspoken agreement between us when we meet. We both know why we’re there, we both know what he’s like and what he can do, we’re both now addicted to him and his constant source of sex and power and beauty and we’re both—all—devoted to doing anything he asks of us.

I think he was also right about another aspect of being in his world, which is I’m starting to realize my own enhancements, albeit very, very subtle when compared to his.

For one thing, my dick is constantly tingling. Not hard, exactly, but aroused. There’s no stimulation taking place, either physical or emotional. I’m just always horny. Maybe that’s more for his benefit than my own. And when I come, I come a lot. Used to be that the first time was a nice big load and then every time after that, assuming no cool down time, I could still get off but the loads would decrease with every delivery.

Not anymore! It’s like ten or twelve good pumps of amazing, thick fountains every damned time! I can feel it building towards explosion, getting bigger and bigger until I can’t hold it back and I groan and grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut and fucking come like Old Faithful, almost screaming with ecstasy as my cock and balls manage to delivery yet another huge explosion of warm, thick, sticky cream all over… everywhere!

I’ve also never really been what you might call a gym guy. I mean, I can recognize and appreciate a man’s body and the time they’ve devoted to it, but I used to have more cerebral goals in life. I kept in shape, jogged, wanted to look good naked, but suddenly I feel this sort of… drive. This… pressure to lift weights. Pump iron. A compulsion to keep upping my goals and adding more weight and looking at my gains in the mirror and standing there looking at myself naked as my cock starts throbbing and those constant tingles turn to major throbbing stimulation and suddenly there I am, knees slightly bent, biceps flexed to full power, admiring my reflection while I stroke my hard-on until I’m exploding all over the mirror!

As a psychiatrist, I’m not sure if this is healthy or not. Admiring oneself, loving oneself is certainly intrinsic to one’s mental well-being, but getting off on yourself to the point that you’re orgasming all over your own reflection seems a bit conceited.

Just… a bit.

But I can’t seem to help myself. This drive to better myself, to grow my muscles, to feel my clothes fit tighter and run my hands across these new bigger muscular bulges that make my dick throb and drool just feels… so good. So fucking good.

25 mentions that I look better, and his compliment makes me almost cum right there. Feeling his gaze move across my naked body as he drinks in the sight of me only makes me want to get bigger. And better. And I’m starting to believe him when he says that swallowing his cum and slurping his sweat and swapping spit with him in one of our long, passionate, amazing make-out sessions is…doing something.

To me.

Something I like.

Something I want more of.

I’m a porn actor so I thought I’d seen everything.

Huge cocks. Huge balls. Huge muscles. Tight asses. Some of the dudes I get to fuck or be fucked by are handsome enough to be models. Black guys, white guys, Latino guys, Asian guys, I like ’em all. I guess when you fuck enough guys you start developing an aversion to prejudice—to prejudging a guy based on his looks or whatever. I’ve had some of the best fucks from smaller guys. And fat guys. Really, you can never tell how good someone fucks just by looking at them. Sometimes you can. Some guys just look like they can fuck, and then it turns out that yeah, they can. But sometimes you spot some quiet, shy bloke in a bar and he’s giving you the eye and there’s something about how he’s checking you out that you can just tell that this guy—there’s something special happening. And then, wow.

Just, wow.

I love fucking. I love fucking in front of a camera, or an audience. I love fucking one guy or lots of guys. I love fucking and I love getting fucked. I discovered pretty early on in life that I was good at it, too. That, like being musical or being able to write or playing a sport, fucking can be a natural talent you can train for and hone and practice until you get to stand up on the Olympic podium and be the best in the world at something.

Now, I’d never say I was the best fuck in the world or the best fucker or whatever. But I’m really good at it.

Like, really, really good.

And I’m also constantly horny. I’m horny right now, in case you wanted to fuck. And I’ll fuck you. I’ll fuck you good. I’m really excellent at fucking. I mean, I’m an expert! I fuck for a living.

I also fuck as a hobby. Also I fuck for fun, like a game or a sport. And I fuck when I’m bored, but more often I jerk off when I’m bored, just because it’s super handy and doesn’t require any kind of up-front prep work like conversation or figuring out if kissing is allowed.

I also fucking love kissing. Kissing is great.

If I have a problem, it’s that I’m kind of famous for fucking. You might have run across one of my pro gigs online, or seen one of my amateur stroke fests on Chaturbate. There are GIFs of me fucking on AdonisMale. Basically, you almost can’t not watch me fucking or getting fucked with only the most basic searches. As such, when I’m at the gym working out to make my glutes bigger or at a bar cruising the clientele or just walking down the sidewalk in some kind of slutty outfit (or, during Pride, wearing nothing at all), I’m constantly being approached to get fucked.

And, nine times out of ten, I’m up for it. Literally! Heh.

I’m proud of being a slut. Some people call me a whore since I’ll gladly take money for fucking, but I prefer to think of myself as a professional slut.

This is all a preamble to set up a recent experience I had that kind of blew my mind and blew my load in equal measure. So, I’m cruising around in a few sex apps—I tend to keep two or three open at once, just to widen my possible hook-ups—and then this one face pops up and he looks very handsome, which I like, and he has a funny bio, which I also like, because without a sense of humor sex can get pretty dull, but then I’m reading his stats and I’m all like, no fucking way.

Because this dude reports that he’s six-eight and weighs three hundred pounds and has a nine-inch dick and he doesn’t even have a name, just a number. 25.

I’m thinking what kind of total bullshit is this, who does he think he’s fooling? I actually—because I am something of an ass and enjoy trolling liars and calling them on their bullshit—I text this dude in the app and send him a pic of my dick, which is an actual nine-and-a-half inches when fully engaged, because porn star, and then he sends me a pic back and my eyes bulge out of my head like some fucking cartoon character because in this pic his cock is lying along this well-developed thigh, like Mr. Olympia level muscle, and it’s basically reaching towards his fucking knee!

Now, after my initial incredible lust fades I’m thinking, Photoshop. No way this is real. If this was real I’d have met him by now. Fuck, Id have fucked him by now, or insisted he fuck me. Cocks just don’t look like that when they’re that huge. Because his cock looked fucking perfect. Mouthwatering. His cock made my cock stand up and take notice.

So I had to call him on his bullshit. “Can you take it?” he texts me.

Can I take it? “I was fucking born to take it,” I text him, which obviously I accentuate with a sweaty peach emoji for good measure. So he invites me over to some dinky ass apartment near the campus downtown and now I’m like, seriously? You’re trying to tell me that man-sized cock lying on that bodybuilder leg belongs to some 20-year-old college dude?

Girl, please.

But like I said, he had a handsome face and a funny profile and I was horny and he was ready so off I go, summoning a Lyft and racing across the city for a dubious piece of tail and possibly a fun story to tell on my next film set.

I don’t get nervous or whatever no matter what I’m walking into, because by now I’ve seen everything. Fetish videos and time spent with handsome dudes into Jesus Fuck knows what, and my dick and ass are ready to take on all comers.

Heh. “Comers.”

So the car drops me off at this like building near the college campus, maybe it’s dorms but it looks a lot more like I imagine a prison looks, with these tiny windows all set out on the wall up to five stories filled up and, according to my imagination, with a buttload of horny, randy, well-hung college dudes all wanting me to suck and fuck their cocks, but today I’m focused on just one dude with what he thinks is a big ol’ hanging dick too big for a pro like me.

I like a challenge, though, and I’m actually kind of hoping this dude is outfitted with a piece of meat so big it’s gonna make me question my professionalism as a slut for hire. I’ve been with all the biggest dicks there are in the biz, and taken them all on with a grin and no gag reflex. Fuck, son, my ass had been used so often by gargantuan slabs of cock that I doubt anyone can fill me up anymore. I’m used to taking on two or three dicks at once, so even if this dude owns the biggest fucking prick on planet Earth, I’m pretty confident I can take it with ease.

So I climb the stairs to the fourth floor and there’s lotsa noise going on, dudes all hanging out in their rooms playing Call of Duty or Fortnite or whatever, other dudes smoking weed and sucking on beer bottles. I get a few glances as I pass by, because I wore my cut-off jeans that make my package stick out like I’ve stuffed three pairs of socks down there (I haven’t) and my ass is sticking out like a pair of beach balls too big for the trunk. Plus I’ve got on a half-shirt that barely hides my tits and shows off this six-pack I work on every fucking day, and there’s even a hint of pubes peeking up over the waistband of these Daisy Dukes.

I’m a slut, did I mention?

The dude said he was “up for anything” and in my book, ‘anything’ can encompass quite a lot of options. So I also brought my backpack filled with lots of toys to play with in case he needed some help or just wanted to have a butt plug in his back door vibrating against his prostate while I tongue and stroke and suck his nine-inches, assuming he wasn’t exaggerating.

As I approach his door this…feeling comes over me all the sudden. Like, it was so strong, so obvious, that I stopped dead in my tracks a few steps from his door because I feel, like, hot. In both ways. Physically hot and sexually hot. Like my skin is warm and my pits and my balls are sweaty and my mouth goes drive, and at the same time my dick starts just throbbing and growing like I was looking at an old Playgirl when the guys had hair all over and looked like porn stars in some prime 70s fuck flicks, with big porn ‘staches and big soft dicks smoking at me from those glossy pages. Not like these dudes now who shave every inch of their bodies and look all smooth and shit.

I’m talking I was feeling like a fucking man, capital M capital A capital N. It just washed over me and flooded my brain with lust and I was practically pumping my hips like I was some dog in heat, fucking anything that moved even if there wasn’t anything there.

This…feeling. This sensation. It gets stronger with every step I take approaching the door. Like teeth dragging along my hard on or some dude who knows what he’s doing getting hold of my nipples and going to fucking town. My asshole started tingling and my balls seized up and then sizzled like I had so much cum in ’em that if you breathed on ’em I’d pump a load of cream out of my throbbing dick head like a firehose.

Get what I’m saying here? I was fucking horned up!

I take a breath to try steadying myself and realize a drip of sweat is tickling its way down the crack of my ass and heating up my hole, almost like my body was already preparing to get fucked. I raised my hand to knock and even before my knuckled meet the wood I hear this voice from the other side say, “It’s open.”

And I mean, fuck me, that was a man’s voice. Deep and powerful. Even as soft as he said it, and even behind that door, it struck my cock and balls hard, made me suck in a breath and my nips started to tingle.

So I try to gather my few remaining shreds of chill and turn the handle with my sweaty hand and open the door.

And then I came in my little shorts, shooting a thick spray of cum out of my suddenly hard cock that dripped down my leg.

Can I tell you about this one dude who showed up?

So, he was cute and had a nice body and a huge dick which should have clued me in but it turns out he was like some famous porn star or whatever. Like, the kind of guy whose pic gets ripped off by other dudes insecure in their looks. And in my situation I can’t afford to be too picky. I mean, I basically need to line up a constant stream (heh) of dudes just to satisfy my libido. Fucking revolving door on my apartment lately. Place smells like cum and sweat and ass and balls. Haven’t managed to make my bed in a week, because as soon as the last guy leaves—walking funny because my dick just annihilated their hole—they pass the next guy in the hallway. Not gonna lie, it kind of turns me on to think of the glances being exchanged.

Then again, what doesn’t turn me on anymore?

Um, so, right, this guy turns up and when we were texting he was acting like I was the dude who should be honored to allow his cock in my butt, and then he gets a load of what I have to offer and he starts to realize that the two-week old profile pic I posted looks almost nothing like I do now. I mean, you can definitely tell we’re the same dude but now I’m like that dude went to a gym for a year and came back looking like if two pornstars had a baby and that baby grew up to own a 14-inch prick that stays hard all day long and has a face that any model would kill for and a body so strong and muscled and beautiful that even the most talented Greek sculptor would weep tears of infinite frustration that he could never match my face in his struggle to depict masculine perfection.

Sorry for the run-on sentence structure, and yeah, I’m boasting. Can you blame me?

He was butt naked. Or more accurately, cock naked. Because he was just standing there in that simple and somewhat sad looking little apartment with his head practically brushing the ceiling and it was kind of dark in there except for the early evening sun coming in through the window behind him so he was kind of in silhouette. But not so much in silhouette that it was abundantly and absolutely clear that not only was this dude not lying, or even boasting, but he may have been holding back on me!

First off, this dude, 25 or whatever, was fucking huge! Everywhere! Including that labeled nine-incher which on first impression I would have put at ten or eleven inches, because it looked huge even on this guy’s massive frame.

He said he was six-eight but he looked taller that even that. And then factor in that his shoulders were three feet wide narrowing down to an absurdly narrow waist and it was kind of amazing he didn’t just fall over from all that upper body mass.

Because also? Chest! Huge! Like, two massive round, perfect, gorgeous pectoral mountains coated in dark manly curls and capped with nipples like, actual, fucking, nipples. Like on a baby bottle! Like, fat chewable, amazing nipples my tongue wanted to lick. His arms hung to his side, and the combination of his biceps and triceps made it look like he had 28- or even 30-inch upper arms!

And it doesn’t stop there! Because I haven’t even mentioned his face yet, and even give the godly proportions of his body and the godly size of his cock, he owned a face that would make time stop in its tracks to just stare at it.

Handsome? Yes, but more than that. Like, I’m not sure I can even explain it, the effect that looking at his face had on me. If he was just handsome, if he was only gorgeous, I could look away from him and maintain my own semblance of sanity, but his face was just…perfect. The most beautiful face I have ever seen.

And then he smiled.

And I came again.

The sex was great, as one might expect when you get a professional porn actor and the world’s most perfectly enhanced man together, and afterwards he was mine like all the men I’ve been with, practically begging to stay overnight and I tell him I got, like, six other dudes in queue for today and maybe if he recovers sufficiently we’ll see what happens later and he’s got this look in his eyes I now recognize as being total devotion to me and my cock so I just smile and reach down and squeeze his hard-on (gotta admit that a guy who can get a hard-on that quick after coming has a name I’ll remember, whether it’s real or not) and tell him I’ll text him when I’m free.

Maybe I actually will. He was an excellent fuck.

But what I wanted to tell you was about this weird thing that happened when I was fucking him. Something I could feel coming—no pun intended—and couldn’t stop, and didn’t want to. It was like all the fucking we’d done, and we did a lot of fucking because apparently being a pornstar really helps with your stamina, I guess because you need to stay hard whether you’re on set fucking or not, but we fucked a whole lot for a long time and that, in itself, was unusual. Most guys, they’re overwhelmed or intimidated or something and they come really quickly.

I mean, I still get to fuck them and they still enjoy it, judging by their groans and repeatedly saying “oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck” but with this dude, the more I fucked him, the stronger this…feeling grew.

Can’t really explain it more than that. It was a new and unique sensation, something building inside me, growing bigger and stronger with every shove of my cock inside his ass. And then it grew to a crescendo, like reaching a pinnacle after a long climb or coming up for air after diving deeper than I ever have.

And then I pushed in all the way. I buried my cock in his ass, and his whole body tensed up and my whole body grew hot and started throbbing and vibrating and then I shot the load to end all loads inside his hole.

It fucking felt—and I’m not even exaggerating—like I was just letting go of something, that my dick was flooding his guts with a thick wave of cum that was emptying my balls all in one, long, heavy, constant dose. Like I was filling my balls with so much cum that once I started coming, I couldn’t stop.

It felt awesome, I’m not gonna lie. Like a super orgasm! Like an orgasm inside an orgasm! Like the best god damn feeling the world ever knew and it was all exploding inside him from my cock.

I kept coming and coming, not in spurts but in this long, unending jet and he was impaled on my dick and I was holding his ankles and buried to my balls, all fourteen inches inside him as I came and came and then I was finally done and I felt amazing. Not tapped out or tired or anything. In fact, I felt stronger and more energized than ever!

The dude was like a used condom on the end of my prick, though. For a minute I thought I broke him or something, like he was gonna black out. But then he smiled and sucked in several deep breaths and opened his eyes and just said, “Wow.”

That was all. “Wow.”

It felt nice inside his butt and I just stayed there for a few heartbeats, still feeling that sensation of power and strength and, like, dominance that was radiating out of me like I could see it, like I was glowing. Then I stepped away from him and extracted my glistening, throbbing, still iron-hard rod from his guts, the entire thick, veiny shaft and bulbous head coated in cum and dripping it to the carpet. I was still hard and horny, so I stroked myself after I let go of his legs, my incredible cock still delivering very agreeable vibrations of pure fuck power as my firm grip slid along its inches, testing its hardness and thickness, and looked down at him on his back on my rumpled sheets, his ass leaking a copious pool of cum even as his hole twitched and winked in an effort to keep my load inside him.

“Wow,” he said again. “That was fucking intense.”

Uh, ya think?

I’m gonna run out of both fuck apps and fuck app users pretty soon. And frankly, some guys fucking freak the fuck out when they turn up and get a load of me. And those that manage to retain a semblance of sanity in the face of perfect masculine beauty and a cock that never goes down and an ass so deep and warm and perfect, they practically nut all over my butt before they manage to even get their dick inside me.

Can I admit that I’m a tiny bit scared of what happens when I make myself public? Not, like, anyone can hide much anymore what with Twitter and Facebook and all these hook-ups advertising that they just had “the best fuck ever with the most handsome guy with the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.” I had to turn off my own social networks because trying to manage all the friend requests and DMs was carving a big chunk of time out of my life when I could be using those hours fucking. Mean, even still, I’m just one guy.

Oh! Also, weirdly, I’m like reading voraciously and retaining everything I read! Hence the use of such high falootin’ words as ‘propensity’ and ‘voracious.’ Like, I don’t wanna become one of those people correcting everyone else’s grammar, but I’m biting my big, sexy tongue more than I ever used to.

Which, also, why should I care? But for some reason I do. It’s like my default position in life is now Polite Muscle Hunk. Like I’m overcompensating emotionally for my size and strength physically? Or maybe because I don’t have to try to be the biggest stud in the room. Maybe that’s an enhancement too for this modern world where being an asshole can get you elected, just being a nice guy with manners and a filthy mouth can get you pretty far.

I don’t remember much of what happened next. It was like I came twice and then suddenly I was naked and he was fucking my ass and kissing my lips and we never even cracked open my backpack of toys. Because I was his toy. I was going to do anything he wanted me to do.

And then there was the fucking, because lord above I have never been fucked like that. I mean, I’m a god damned porn star, you know? I’ve been well and truly fucked. I’ve been fucked hard and deep and fucked for hours.

But this was… something else. Something more. His skin felt like silk. His muscled felt like steel. His hands found every spot on my body that felt good, and then invented a few more new places to make me squeal with bliss and moan with lust. His mouth, his lips, his tongue, I mean, is there such a thing as a mouth artist? Because the things he did just with his mouth on my body—on my lips and nips and dick and hole and fucking everywhere—like, I would have been fully satisfied just if he used only his mouth,

But then there’s his cock and we enter an entirely new level of pleasure.

Now, I don’t know if you have experience being fucked by a really big cock or, like, one of those joke dildos that’s bigger than any man has a right to be, but it’s not exactly the most comfortable thing. As a porn star I’ve trained my ass to take on all comers, no problem. So I was expecting some more Big Dick Action which is where the dude with the dick has all the fun and I just need to grit my teeth, open my ass, and take it.

But this was…. He was…. His dick was…. Oh my fucking god.

And then something else happened. When he was fucking me. I mean, I am in fuck heaven. His dick in my ass was like, well, words fail me. Yes it was fucking, but it was so much more than that. So much bigger and better and more amazing and sexy.

And then he kept going.

And going.

And my body is like a pinball machine and he’s ringing all the bells and getting the high score and I’m giving him more balls to play with and there’s just not enough balls for him, he’s the god damned Pinball Wizard with his dick and then that…heat. Whatever it was. It’s starts building again. Like, everywhere.

Hotter and hotter.

And then I feel him blasting his load inside me and I want it all! I want to, like, gulp his cum with my ass or something. Like, I want to keep it all inside me, all his power and heat and fucking sexiness and he’s pushing it inside me, pumping it over and over and over, using my body like his fuck toy as he empties the world’s biggest cum dump inside me.

I didn’t want to leave him. I mean, on top of everything else, on top of being the best fuck I’ve ever experienced by about a million miles and the fact that he somehow came in my ass, like, a bucket of cum, gallons of cum, so much cum that he was still coming as he fucked me and the cum was pouring out of my ass and filling my guts and he still kept coming, I wanted to stay with him and be with him and do anything in the world, absolutely fucking anything for another minute in his presence.

Because you want to know the best part? Or maybe the worst part?

He was nice!

With that body and that cock and that face and that fuck… he was also a nice guy?

That’s just not fair.

You know that saying, “you only had one job?” Well, I’m that guy. At the company. Pharmaceuticals and drugs and shit. I just have one job and that’s maintaining records for all the volunteers we employ for various drug tests.

We do a lot of tests for some pretty serious things, and all those people are really good about doing the few little tasks we ask of them. You know, maintaining journals about how the drugs are affecting them, checking in and getting physicals to see how they’re progressing or not progressing, testing for unusual side effects. It’s important stuff.

But then there’s this one guy who won’t answer any of my messages. We use a web portal thing to maintain anonymity so I can’t call him or text him or anything, at least not directly. The web site contacts him when we request an update, but so far all I get is a big fat nothing. I’m practically begging him to report back so we have records of what’s going on, how the tests are going, yodda yodda yodda.

We don’t even have names to protect the test results, just numbers. And his number is starting to really annoy me.

25. That’s his case number. He’s in a test for a new male enhancement drug. No shit, these things aren’t as important as heart disease or cancer or shit like that, but they make the company a fuck ton of money so they’re pretty important. Consequently, I catch a lot more shit when the offices upstairs aren’t getting feedback on boner pills than I get for anything else. Totally true.

So my last resort is going out and seeing a volunteer in person if they aren’t responding any other way. It’s annoying as fuck because in the office I have everything I need to conduct tests on, like, growth numbers and, I’m not even fucking kidding, penis density. Like I have these calipers and I have to actually see if this guy’s dick is bigger or harder and record that shit.

And most of the guys I do this with are, um, how to put this delicately. Old as fuck? You know, old rich dudes who can’t get it up are a very rich environment for us, so most of the time the volunteers fit into that category and sizing up some wrinkled dude’s sad little cock isn’t what I imagined I’d be doing with my doctorate.

But whatever.

What makes it even more annoying is that, confidentially, I’d probably actually enjoy measuring 25’s dick density. I do all the volunteer pre-screening, too. We’re not a very big company, but we’re pretty well funded. Like I said, boner pills are big business. And this boner pill is supposed to be big shit, like it’s male enhancement but it goes farther and deeper into improving male, sort of, everything. Whatever that means. But we won’t know what that means without feedback!

Which is why we had to use younger than usual volunteers. The big brains upstairs weren’t sure after the rat and monkey tests how this stuff would work on human subjects. And for the most part there’s been no big shocks. One dude had accelerated heart rate, another dude started growing hair where he didn’t have hair before, but every other volunteer has been reporting back as asked except this 25 dude.

I mean, yeah, initially there was some weirdness about how the drug affected him. I didn’t see him personally since I don’t meet up with volunteers until after they’ve gotten their drug trials and been using them a while, but from what I hear he had an unusual initial reaction that worried some of the big brains. The notes on his file are kinda weird, to be sure. “Overt physical manifestation of accelerated enhancement.” “Unusual muscular development” “Recommend psych eval ASAP.” “May be a risk to the general public.” I mean, that sounds worrying for a boner pill, right?

I just need him to answer some questions! He’s really starting to piss me off.

I guess I need to allow the drug company to update my records. I’m not sure what they’ll do if I keep ignoring them. Probably stop paying me for volunteering. And frankly I need the money. Until or unless I start charging all these dudes for a fuck, I don’t really have another revenue source. I mean, I can’t really just show up at UPS where I’m a driver, knock on a few doors and start making all my customers explode cum in their pants, can I?

Or can I? Sounds kind of hot, actually.

And I can’t keep lying about being sick either. They’re liable to fire me any day now, and then how am I going to keep refilling my fridge to feed my ongoing growth?

Whomever is on the other end of these requests is starting to sound desperate. Maybe it’s this new streak of kindness I’m developing but I sort of feel bad for them, whoever they are. I mean, must be kind of a bummer to do nothing but read about people’s pains all day.

I imagine it’s not the most pleasant job in the world.

Maybe I should give them a treat?

Finally! That 25 dude answered my messages!

He’s still being really weird, asking if I can go to his place for the update instead of just coming back in and doing it like everyone else who’s not an asshole.

It makes me wonder if something has gone seriously wrong. Like, is he scared to go out in public? Maybe he has one of those hours-long boners except his is lasting for days and he’s embarrassed to wander around with a tent pitched in his shorts. And what was with that psych eval comment on his file? This drug is supposed to improve a guy’s confidence, make him feel all hot and amazing, but when you start fucking around with brain chemistry who knows what’ll happen? The brain is still a big mysterious organ that we don’t know much about. Did the company inadvertently turn something on it shouldn’t have? Improved some latent ability to the extent that it’s no longer latent, but intrinsic?

Whoa. Maybe this guy needs more help than I can give him? Wonder if I should contact that psychiatrist and see what the results were? The file includes his notes and it’s nothing unusual at all, said the worries were “overblown” and that Subject 25 shoes “no signs of being a danger to the public.”

But merely mentioning that there was a worry that this dude was dangerous should kinda raise some questions, shouldn’t it?

On the other hand, that’s all above my pay grade and if the big brains thought he was okay, that must have meant that he was okay.

And although it took him a while to reply, he was very apologetic about it. “Been busy” he said, “entertaining some guests.” Not sure what there is to do in this town, honestly. I know I haven’t been ‘entertained’ in quite a while.

Too long, if you ask me!

I wondered if I should get prepared for the interview, maybe put on some clothes or wash some of the cum off the walls. Then I thought, why bother? I’ll start tearing my way out of my clothes a few minutes after I manage to work this collection of hard muscle and thick cock into them, plus there’s always gonna be more cum.

Plus, I didn’t know anything at all about them. All my visitors thus far had been easily predictable—horny gay men. Horny men on their own are predictable enough, but horny gay men are even easier to categorize and please. This would be my first encounter with someone who wasn’t there for some choice ass and the biggest cock online. I decided to use this as my own test and they would be the volunteer who didn’t know what they were getting into.

I mean, why try to hide anything from them anyway? They said they needed to take measurements so they were going to see the goods sooner or later, so why not sooner. And if they were truly wondering about the side effects, well, I don’t think there’s more potent or obvious evidence than me standing before them in my birthday suit, now is there?

That’s a ton of evidence right off the bat. And by bat I mean my cock. Which is about as big as a bat.

Not really.

But close.

I worked out a space in my busy fuck schedule for them, leaving some padding around the appointment in case things with a partner went a little longer than expected—not out of the ordinary—and did a little bit of tidying up so they had a place to sit down and opened up the windows to air out some of that thick, sensual fuck aroma that now seemed to integrate itself with everything I touched.

I actually did try to slip my dick into an XXL jockstrap, sort of folding it inside the sock when it was as soft as it can get, but then I looked at myself in the mirror and all the muscle and all that dick shoved inside a pouch too small to handle all that meat just made the horny monster start roaring and that jockstrap was being torn apart from the inside.

So much for avoiding the shock factor.

The place where 25 lived had an odd smell. Not unattractive like he was living next to a chemical plant, more like… more like someone had manufactured a room freshener that smelled like a locker room inside a used condom and was using it all over the building.

I heard a lot of moaning and groaning as I passed the apartments around his. It was the middle of the day or I swear what I heard was a lot of horny males all stroking themselves to explosion. And some of them weren’t alone, judging by the chorus of grunts and “fuck yeah”s coming from one apartment.

That smell, whatever it was, kept growing stronger until it was nearly making my eyes tear up and my nostrils sting, but even though it was hardly a scent one would call attractive, I found myself practically trying to gulp it inside my lungs. It felt good to smell it. Made me feel curiously aroused and made me almost swoon with its overt sensuality.

I knocked on his door and heard a voice on the other side.

And then my dick was exploding with cum.

“It’s open.”

“Mr… Twenty-five? I’m from… holy Christ on a bike!”

“And how are things at holy Christ on a bike?”


“I believe you’re here to…measure me?”


“Take some samples?”


“Ask some questions?”


“You okay?”




“Do you want to sit down?”


“Maybe you should sit down.”


“You came in your pants. Take them off.”


“Take off your pants.”


“There you go. Feels better, doesn’t it? Having your cock out?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay. I’d be more surprised if you didn’t come. That’s a nice cock, by the way. Nice and thick. Mushroom head. Veiny. How it’s throbbing. Looks like you have another load building already. Nice. Are you going to come again now or can you hold on?”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need. It’s more or less expected. Here, let me help you out. No, look up here. At my face. That’s it. I find that some guys can manage longer if they’re not looking at my cock. No, look at my face. I know my cock is big and juicy looking, and believe me it feels good in your ass. Look up here. Good. Breathe? Oh yeah, that’s me, too. That stink. It’s the smell of pure masculine sex juice. Mmm, yeah. Like sniffing my big fat balls. Now, I’m going to say a word. Are your ears ringing? Sometimes that happens. Weird physical thing. Can you hear me? Good. I’m going to say a word and you’re going to come. I just wanted to prepare you as much as I could. You’ve already come once so this time should be easier, but not always. Not sure why, but some guys come really hard when I do this, and it’s 100% effective. Like Pavlov’s dog or something. You ready?”

“Just one word?



“Grab hold of your dick. It’s gonna start pumping all over the place.”

“I don’t…”

“Grab it. Hard.”


“Here we go. 3… 2… 1… Fuuuuuuuuuck.”


“I think it’s how I say it that really matters. Like, I can just say ‘fuck,’ and you’re fine, right? I mean, at least your cock isn’t jizzing up a storm. But if I really mean it, if I… add intention to the word, something happens. Want to feel it again?”

“Yes… and no.”

“Make up your mind.”




“I know, right? It’s pretty near unavoidable. Even works over the phone. I’m starting to think I can make a guy come by texting him…that word.”

“Sorry. Sorry.”

“You keep apologizing for things you have no control over. It’s completely unnecessary.”

“You… you’re…”

“25. I’m 25. And who might you be?”


“Uncommon name, but I like it.”

“No. Sorry. I mean, not… sorry? I mean, my name is Todd.”

“Not as interesting as Huge, but my name is a number so who am I to judge? Am I right?”

“What happened?”

“You came. Twice.”

“No. I mean… to you!”

“Oh. This? The huge prick and the heavy balls and the massive muscles and a face I have been told would make a blind man come? I’d shrug but it might make the ceiling crack.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“And yet here it is, happening. I could pinch you if you like, though there’s a whole list of things I’d rather do. To you. With you.”


“How did you want to get started?”


“Did you want to measure things? I haven’t been measured lately so I’m kind of curious myself. I mean, one guy did volunteer to measure me. I guess it’s a fetish for some, how… big… everything is. Or in my case, how ludicrously huge. But he only got as far as my dick and passed out so…. But he’s fine. Gave him a cold shower, fed his throat my cock, sent him on his merry way!”


“Excellent. Should I just, like, stand here? And are you wanting a more relaxed measurement or fully, so to speak, engorged?”

“Um, big…gest? I guess? We need to qualify the extent of the developm….holy fuck!”


“You just… got bigger. A lot bigger! Everywhere!”

“Oh! No, this is just my muscles fully tensed. Everything, you know, pumped.”

“But, yeah, but, you just… flexed.”

“Uh huh.”

“And got bigger.”

“I assume we’ll get to questions about curious side effects later? Or did you want to do that now? This is just how my body works now. When I want bigger muscle, I just flex. They’ll deflate eventually. About an hour usually, unless I’m fucking, and then I just stay big like this. Maybe it has to do with blood flow or something? You’re the doctor, here.”

“Let me just get your… measure… Jesus Christ.”


“Your thigh. Your thigh is 36 inches! Your thigh is bigger than my waist!”

“Is it? Cool!”

“But if your chart is correct, that’s a twelve-inch increase! In less than a month!”

“If you think those twelves inches are impressive, wait’ll you see my dick! Oh, you have seen it. You’re staring at it right now, in fact.”

“Does it… get bigger, too?”

“Oh, for sure. I’m not fully erect, which is unusual for me. Let me just… unless you wanted to?”

“It’s a bit unprofessional.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Okay, let me, can I… um….”

“Knock yourself out, Todd. It’s just my cock. My magnificent, unbelievable, totally awesome cock.”

“Like this?”

“Mmm hmm.”


“A little faster?”

“It’s so big.”

“I know.”


“Can you… hold on.”


“What. It’s just spit.”

“But it feels…weird. And smells…amazing!”

“Mmm, I like when you play with the head. Use your thumb to… right. Just like that. Keep… mmm. Mmm hmm.”



“Is that all spit or precum?”

“Probably both, but the pre’s gonna start flowing pretty thickly soo…. Ooh, there it goes. Fuuuuck yeah.”


“Sorry. You came again didn’t you?”


“Just keep going. I’m almost there.”

“Almost? It gets bigger than this? This feels hard as iron!”

“Fuck, you give a great handjob, Todd. How’s your blowjob?”

“I don’t…”

“No? You sure? You don’t want to push those lips against the soft, warm head of my dick, stick out your tongue and lick the syrup off it? Pull the thick, warm, stiff length of its veiny shaft down your throat and try to swallow me whole?”

“There’s so much pre! It’s like…flowing down your….”

“Sssh, Todd. Less talking, more stroking. We’re nearly there. Very, very close.”




“Almost there!”

“I’ve never… this is impossible. How the fuck is this possible?”

“Oh, there’s this new male enhancement drug! It’s pretty awesome, right?”

“But no other male volun… nobody else has… this is….”

“I’m ready.”

“For what?”


“Oh! Shit! Um… Jesus. Jesus! Jesus!”

“So, pretty decent then?”

“Thirty-seven centimeters!”

“In American?”

“Fourteen and a half inches!”

“Hmm. I thought I’d be bigger.”

“Your penis has gained… it’s twice its original length!”

“And I’m still growing.”


“I know! Totally weird. Who could have guessed?”

“No one! No one could have guessed!”

“Do you want to…?”

“To what?”

“Measure the rest? Of me?”

“Oh. Oh! I though you meant….”

“What did you think I meant?”

“Never mind.”

“You thought I meant fucking?”

“No! No.”

“Oh, we can fuck later, don’t worry. I’m afraid that if we fuck now you’ll be so overwhelmed by pleasure and the absolute unfiltered access to perfect sex you won’t be much good for the rest of your interview.”


“After all, I did promise. I made extra room for you in my fuck schedule and everything.”

“Your fuck… your fuck schedule?”

“Well, I can’t very well line up men to fuck all day without a schedule, can I?”

“I’m… you put me in your fuck schedule?”

“You’re here, aren’t you? I’m naked aren’t I? Need any more clues?”

“I can’t… your dick… that cock…”

“Oh! If that’s what you’re worried about you can fuck me. It’s all good. And since your dick hasn’t gone down since you walked in the door, even after a couple of very copious and impressive loads, that’s really saying something about your stamina, Todd. I’m usually lucky if I can get a guy to stick around to lick the cum off my ass.”


“I know, right? How rude!”

“No, I mean… never mind. Arms up, please?”

“My pleasure.”

“Fifty… five. No… seven. No, sixty! Sixty-two centimeters! Twenty-four and one-quarter inches!”

“Do my waist next. The last dude I fucked wanted to bet that my arms were bigger around than my waist. Should I suck it in or…?”

“Just leave it… normal? Whatever the fuck normal is for you.”

“Like this?”

“Fucking… eight pack.”


“Nothing. Um, sorry, but your waist is eighty-one centimet… thirty-two inches. Exactly.”

“But if I do this.”

“Oh, um. No, now your arms are bigger.”

“Yeah, but I think this looks weird.”

“Yeah, like, ‘where did your internal organs go?’”


“Your muscle control is… incredible.”

“Right? Watch this.”

“Oh my god!”

“Pec dance! One, two, cha cha cha! Three, four, cha cha cha!”

“Oh. Em. Gee.”

“Four, see? Because there’s actually four muscles that….”

“Pectoralis major and pectoralis minor.”

“Check out the big brain on Brad!”


“It’s from….”

“Pulp Fiction, I know.”

“Right but where Jules meant it sarcastically, I mean it sincerely.”

“Arms up again, please?”

“Chest time? Chest time. Should I inhale or… never mind. You’re done.”

“178 centimeters. I should just skip telling you the centimeters right? Seventy inches.”


“That’s huge, uh, 25. I should keep calling you 25?”

“That’s who I am now. That other guy is gone.”

“You do… seem to be a completely different man.”

“Completely awesome, you mean!”

“Impressive to be sure. Does this… also deflate?”

“If you keep rubbing it like that it won’t. Why, is it bothering you?”

“It’s… distracting.”

“Good distracting or bad distracting?”

“Are you always this…?”



“Yes. Even before the enhancements. Look, I like what I like and I like fucking and I like you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Side effect.”


“I know we haven’t gotten there, yet.”

“We haven’t even taken weight and height, yet.”

“It’s a side effect. I just… know when someone is cool.”


“Like, someone you’d like as a friend.”

“A friend.”

“Okay, a friend you want to fuck.”

“Is it more about the friend part or the fuck part?”

“Depends. Sometimes it’s both. Sometimes it’s one or the other.”

“And you can just… tell.”

“Uh huh. You never get gut feelings?”


“I get them all the time. Only about people. Okay, only about guys. So far. But I’ve only been fucking guys so maybe women too? I should test that.”

“And you’re okay with that? With everything?”

“You read the psychiatrist’s report.”

“I read all the reports.”

“I was freaked out at first. Who wouldn’t be? I went in expecting to get more frequent and stronger boners and… look at me.”

“I am.”

“I know. I can tell by your erection.”

“Your dick is twice as big! Your upper arm is bigger than your fucking waist! You have an eight-pack!”

“Awesome, right?”

“And your erection seems like it just won’t go down!”

“As I said, you give an excellent hand job.”

“It’s like a… baseball bat.”

“Mm hmm.”

“Or a… steel rod.”


“A warm, slick, throbbing steel rod.”

“The part I mentioned about rubbing it being the opposite of making it go down applies to stroking as well. Oh, and grasping. Also breathing on it. Which, by the way, keep doing that.”


“Still hot, though.”

“Okay, can you… step on this please? And I can get your weight.”

“Sure thing.”

“Oh. Uh.”

“Everything okay?”

“I’m not sure. This thing goes up to 180 kilos. Around 400 pounds.”


“It’s registering that you weigh zero kilos.”

“That does seem wrong, doesn’t it?”

“Which means you weigh more than 400 pounds.”

“Should I exercise more? Try to lose the belly fat?”


“Side effect. I’m extremely funny now, too.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.”

“More than 400 pounds?”

“Again, you’re now more than twice as heavy as you were before the enhancement drug.”

“I think a lot of that is in my butt.”

“Holy fuck!”

“What? I can’t see it without a mirror.”

“It’s… perfect. That. Is a perfect ass.”

“Oh. Thanks! And you haven’t even been inside it, yet.”

“There’s still time.”

“Now who’s being forward?”



“Gotta get your height. Can you step over here near the chair. You’re a little tall for my reach.”

“Sure. Oops! Sorry. Got some precum on you.”


“Right… here.”


“What? I just wanted to clean you up a bit.”

“By licking my neck?”

“That’s where you needed cleaning. Honest.”



“Where you licked me. It… tingles.”

“Huh. That is weird.”


“Something amiss?”

“What was I doing again?”

“Measuring me. My height to be specific.”

“Right, right. Sorry. Things got fuzzy there.”

“Did they?”

“I felt kind of…”

“Kind of?”

“What was I doing?”

“You were going to fuck me.”

“I was going to fuck you.”

“You said you wanted to stick your hard cock in my tight hole and pump me until you force the cum out of my balls.’”

“Your balls.”

“I’m going to take your shirt off now.”

“My shirt off.”

“And then you’re going to fuck me.”

“Fuck you.”

“And then I’m going to fuck you.”

“Fuck me.”

“If you insist.”

I decided to go outside.

Sure, it was probably going to cut into my fuck schedule, but I was growing too big for my apartment and I thought some sunshine and warm breezes would do me good.

I admit that there was some trepidation involved. After all, I’m a seven-foot-tall man with the muscles of a very dedicated bodybuilder with unparalleled aesthetics, the face of a model, and the dick of a horse. My chest gets into the room an hour before the rest of me. I’ve been using the fridge and the stove as weights. My dick gets so hard I could probably hammer nails with it.

These aren’t the usual statistics for dudes, and then I had to add to that the fact that the only clothing I could wear that I hadn’t managed to rip into shreds was a stretchy pair of workout shorts and an XXXL t-shirt that I ripped the sleeves from just to fit over my biceps and triceps, and it was still so small that the bottom half of my tits were hanging out.

I looked up the local nudity laws online, both out of curiosity and out of necessity. I could still find clothes at this point, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that my male enhancements weren’t done enhancing me and at some point, ordinary clothes would become something of an impossibility.

The laws are kind of stupid, and also very specific. Women can’t show their tits but men can. Men can be naked from the waist down only if they’re not aroused, which one presumes to mean that you can be floppy all you want, but don’t spring a stiffy or Mr. Policeman will get involved. Since my own cock was now more erect than it wasn’t, and I was always, always, always and forever aroused that seemed to strongly suggest that a naked 25 was going to be more of a specialized sighting than someone you see every day.

Kind of a pity, right?

I was big everywhere. Huge, really. Not to mention the fact that my spit or sweat can send a man into a sexual frenzy, my dick is constantly drooling a rich flood of precum, and there’s a cloud of heavy duty pheromones drifting around my body like a fog bank in San Francisco Bay.

But I couldn’t stay in my apartment forever, could I? And didn’t I owe it to the world at large to expose myself to it? Whether it was ready for me or not.

It was a glorious day, for what it’s worth. I stepped outside of my building, which had become a kind of constant compartmentalized orgy since I guess my sex stink was now saturating everything around me, finding its way under doors or through cracks and air conditioning ducts to infiltrate every other apartment in my building. It’s not like I can help how I smell.

Consider; after a typical day on my fuck schedule, my skin was coated in cum and spit and sweat, my own and every other dude’s I’ve been with. It was soaking into my skin and my body was seemingly transforming it into an even stronger form, combining and condensing all that male essence into a concentrated aroma of purified masculine sex my sweat glands and tongue and cock and balls would expel back into the world, just to draw in more guys to fuck and be fucked by.

Male enhancement, indeed!

I could smell it as well, of course, and it had the same effect on me as it had on every other man in proximity. Maybe its constancy lessened the effects on me, judging by the effect it had on others. Unless because I was the one producing all this fuck juice that I was immune to it, or partially immune. Then again, I was in a state of near constant arousal as it was, so I didn’t really need a harder push in absolute lustful carnality. I was always already there.

It felt powerfully invigorating, that pulsing, throbbing sensation of continuous and unabating sexual stimulation. It was a physical sensation, but it was also emotional and psychological. I could feel it like a heartbeat from inside me, this hard, heavy thudding of primal energy being discharged like I was a sex battery and everyone around me needed my energy. And that energy was unlimited, robust, and ceaselessly growing stronger.

Emotionally, I felt exhilarated and deeply sexual, as you would imagine, but there were also currents of pure lust, happiness, gratification, and a sense of incredible power. Sexual power. Like I wanted to fuck everyone and I could do it. Take on a whole platoon of muscular army men stripped naked and then move on to a ship of seamen. Full of semen.

Psychologically I was balancing my ego and id, my senses of self importance and instinctive impulses, delicately. Like I said, I wanted to fuck everyone—primal—and I knew I could—ego. But the superego, the part where I’m the nice guy who cares about you, that one seemed to be in charge. He was willing to allow the other two plenty of room, for sure, because if we all had something in common it was a love of fucking, but when I started to lose control over one or the other—if my id started getting too rough or perverted with someone for their liking, or my ego started acting like an asshole and getting demanding or condescending—Super(ego)man was always there to ground me and keep me, I guess, human?

Like I said, and much to my surprise, the nice guy inside me always wins.


Now that I was outside, it was being carried on the wind, my super-powered fuck stink, dissipating like smoke in a sex club and moving around me in a whirlwind of raw carnality. To put it simply, I was the embodiment of sex walking. A personification of masculine lust. The pure essence of constant fucking. A randy, raunchy, sexy tornado. Of sex.

I felt pretty good and my dick was showing off, stretching itself long and swelling thicker in those shorts, making its size and ability more obvious with every step of my powerfully muscled legs. I was “within the legal limits” so long as my schlong obeyed the tight restrictions of its captivity and didn’t rip its way into the open. It was warm so I started sweating, and these fresh rivulets of raw wet sex were working their way between every thick muscle mound like rivers on a landscape of naked brawn.

That also meant my sex stink was rich and thick, pouring off my body like a screaming invitation to fuck.

So it surely wasn’t surprising that I was attracting a lot of attention, more than even my state of near nakedness could explain. There weren’t actually a lot of people around in my neighborhood, a kind of run-down (affordable) section of town. But those who were, to a person, regardless of their age or sex or whatever other categories one might want to place people into. I was the flower and they were the bees.

Not completely unexpected of course, but the fact that everyone, without exception, seemed to succumb to my charms. Looks aren’t everything, and some people don’t appreciate big muscles, and a dick as huge as mine is can be considered by some to be absurd, but if anyone had their qualms about approaching me as a sexual conquest, nothing seemed to stop them.

I admit I hadn’t anticipated how…powerful I was. How strongly my many male enhancements would work on everyone. I mean, who would? Who takes a boner pill and thinks, “now I’m completely irresistible and everyone is going to want to fuck me or get fucked by me.”

Well, maybe every dude does? Those drug commercials are pretty convincing.

Something came over me.

That’s my only excuse. Something—I don’t know what it was but there was this… smell? Or, wait, more like a… feeling. Or a sensation. Whatever it was, and maybe it was all three, it was overwhelming.

And it felt good. Like, really, really good.

I literally stopped in my tracks and my… um. My dick. Felt funny. In a good way. It was like… you know when you’re young and you, like, climb a pole or something, something rubs against you in a new and amazing and unexpected way and your… dick. Feels funny? In a good way?

It was like that. I hadn’t felt that in years, decades, but I instantly remembered that sensation, the first time my cock was ever stimulated in a sexual way. And started growing because if it. Swelling in my shorts as I rubbed and climbed and rubbed that pole.

I even told my friends, my guy friends, about it. And they tried it. And felt it, too. And we giggled about it.

I didn’t giggle this time, I kind of felt breathless. And hot. And my heart sped up in my chest. And my dick got very, very hard.

There was a definite odor. Kind of rank. Like… sweat? I guess? But like the kind of sweat on someone’s body that makes you want to push your nose into their sweaty pits and suck it all inside your chest. The kind of rank that makes you lick your lips with hunger and your palms go sweaty and your butt hole tingles.

Or is that just me? The butt hole thing?

Anyway, I smelled that scent, that stink, and I looked around trying to identify the source, because it smelled like they were standing right next to me. It was so powerful. So… essential. Like they hadn’t showered and they’d just come from working out and they smelled strong and virile. That’s it! Virile! It’s smelled like pure masculine virility!

And that’s when I saw him, and I knew instantly, immediately, that it was him! I mean, he looked like that stink smelled. Like… just like raw… carnality. And he walked like he knew how to fuck, know what I mean? How some guys walk like their balls are too big for their pants and their cock is too powerful to control? And then I looked down and realized, holy fuck, that is literally true with this man! This god! And then I found my legs carrying me towards him, straight at him, and I couldn’t stop myself.

I saw him first, cause I was walking towards him. Or he was walking towards me. Either way, it was pretty clear that he was a big dude, like, massive. Huge. Didn’t know how big from that distance but with every step towards each other, he just kept getting bigger.

Then I could make out his face and I’m pretty sure I gasped out loud, because he was beautiful. And I mean that. Beautiful. Some men are handsome, you know, rugged. But he was beautiful. Clearly a man, with that heavy brow and strong jaw and all those muscles! All those muscles! But his face was beautiful. It was actually hard to look away from him, especially when our eyes met and he smiled.

Then the smell kicked in. Maybe the winds were blowing a different direction and they shifted suddenly, because when it hit me it hit hard. Like… ever been in the south? Like, Alabama or Oklahoma? Tornado season? When it’s so hot and humid that walking outside is like putting on a wet woolen coat? Like walking from an air conditioned hotel lobby out into that thick, wet heat?

It was like that. Only it also had an odor to it, that wet heat slamming into me. Like I could taste it on my lips and lick it off with my tongue. This strong, sexual tang. Like something you wouldn’t necessarily recognize until it was slapping you in the face.

Like his huge cock.

Huge! Fucking! Cock!

I thought his muscles were big—and, no shit—they are—but that cock! I mean, after you’ve seen that cock how are you going to be satisfied with any other man’s cock? It was colossal! Stupendous! Godlike! It was the cock god owns, and if it’s not it should be.

So I stopped, then. And he keeps walking. And he’s huge, like I said, but even huger up close. And that voluptuous smell and that sticky wet heat surrounds us.

And I lost it.

He was already fucking someone when I saw him. Had this dude grabbing a light pole, bent over, pants around his ankles, and he was shoving this, like, baseball bat inside this smaller guy’s ass.

I say ‘smaller guy’ but we were all smaller compared to him. The dude he was fucking looked positively giddy, or dizzy. The big dude was holding him by his hips and slamming into him with hard, deep thrusts, burying his whole, thick cock inside. How that small guy was taking it and evidently enjoying it defied common sense.

The big dude had hauled his cock out of these, like, shorts. Really tight and clingy. Like, they were still holding onto his butt like a second skin, and the front was tucked under his cock and balls. His balls were as huge as his dick. Bull balls. Like he had baseballs for… balls. And his skin was glistening with sweat and there was like sweat clinging to the hair all over his massive pecs, glittering like diamonds in the sun as he fucked this other guy.

And at first I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Because obviously it’s not every day you see two people fucking on the street. And it’s not any day that it’s two dudes, and one dude looks like he just won Mr. Olympia, or actually like he walked onto the Mr. Olympia stage to show how tiny Mr. Olympia is in comparison. So, yeah, I started watching them.

Then suddenly, the big dude looks over and smiles and even waves at me! He’s fucking this guy in the ass with a cock that would make a horse feel inadequate and then he’s looking at me and waving. And then he’s waving me over! He’s like…beckoning me.

I’ll admit at first I felt scared. What did he want me for? He was already fucking a guy!

But then there was this smell. Kind of a stink. A really sweaty smell. Very… manly. And my dick started making all my decisions for me. Like I couldn’t resist. Like I was drawn into what was happening directly, like a fish on a hook.

I couldn’t stop myself. And I didn’t really want to.

In that moment, in that instant, all I wanted to do was fuck.

There were about a half-dozen guys with me after only a couple of minutes outside. I hardly got a block from my place when the first dude I encountered comes up, pulls my cock out of my drawers—which frankly I was happy about because it was starting to hurt being all cramped up in there—and drops his pants and bends over.

So, like, okay, I think I get what you want, if this is like some subtle clue, dropping trou and shoving your hole in my face. So I smiled, grabbed his hips, and started easing my way inside his ass.

He was fucking tight! I wondered if he’d even ever done this before! Not, like, just every ass can take me on, of course. I’m sporting a fuck hammer of tremendous proportions, a tool designed and built for pros, know what I mean? But he was practically begging for me to fuck him, so I drooled a long thread of spit on the head of my prick, spread it around with my palm, and kissed the tip against his pink pucker.

“You sure, bro?” I asked him. He kind of… shuddered when I spoke to him. Like he was a starving man seeing a plate of steak and potatoes or something.

“Puh… please. Please. Fuck me.”

“Okay, bro. Happy to oblige.”

I pushed the tip against him and he kind of sighed. Then his hole, like, opened up for me. Almost as soon as I pressed my spit-soaked cock head against his hole, it was like he was opening up to welcome me in. Never seen anything like it before. So in I go, pushing in a couple of thick inches, trying to be careful, you know, don’t want to rip him open or anything.

And then his ass sort of…swallowed me. I swear to fucking god that once I had gained entrance to his back door, it swung wide open and sucked my cock inside. Sh-loop!

Felt fucking awesome, to tell the truth. All warm and wet and tight. So I started fucking him, then, pumping my giant dick in and out and this dude is holding onto a lamppost for dear life because my cock is like half the length of his torso, you know? And I’m not, like, teasing him with a few inches or something, I’m fucking him balls deep, in and out, his butt making these slick, sucking sounds like he didn’t want me to leave.

So I’m going at it, you know, feeling pretty good and I feel these hands—fingers—on my nips. So, my nipples are really sensitive now, like crazy responsive, and these hands—I can tell they belong to a dude but that’s about all—these hands are twisting and plucking and teasing them without mercy, fucking going to town on my tits, and this, in turn, amps up my fucks because now my cock is practically going off like an alarm bell, like just throbbing intensely with these, like, have waves of pleasure.

So, you know, I groan and shit and my head goes back and then there’s another set of hand finding their way up my legs, stroking my skin, rubbing my muscles, up and down and down and up, and I’m think how great this feels and then more hands find my arms and my shoulders and my ass and now, like, a dozen hands are all over my big body, just feeling me up outside on the sidewalk a block from my apartment.

At this point those nipple hands start stripping the shirt from my upper body and some of the hands on my legs and ass are teaming up, trying to rip my shorts off. Not an easy duty by any means, that stretchy material doesn’t rip easily but they are determined.

So I am fucking this guy, spritzing showers of pre all over his butt and all over my pubes and balls while these other people are trying to strip me naked to get full access to everything I can offer.

I’m not gay. Well, not usually. But I wanted him to fuck me. It was all I could think of, all I could imagine. My brain sort of focused in on that singular goal and nothing else mattered.

Even seeing how big he was, how big his prick was, didn’t deter me from my goal. I mean, I’ve never even considered getting my butt fucked before! I’m kind of a vanilla guy, I like missionary and I like pussy. I think I’m pretty good at eating pussy too. But none of that entered my lizard brain. Everything else, every desire or need or lustful thought, all turned towards getting that dick into my ass.

I think he could tell what I was experiencing, or maybe it was the fact that even before I got to him I was unzipping my pants and frantically shoving them down my legs.

Weirdest thing is that I knew exactly what I was doing. It wasn’t like I lost control or was doing something against my will, I really, truly wanted this. Like I knew it would feel amazing, better than anything, better than any sex I ever had.

Not that I’m like some Romeo or something. I don’t have a girlfriend right now, and I don’t fuck around as a rule. I don’t even watch porn!

But I wanted this huge, beautiful, sexy dude to shove his cock inside my ass and fuck me silly. And I knew he could do it, and I knew it would feel amazing.

I just…knew.

He looked down at me—Jesus, this dude was huge!—and opened his soft, warm, beautiful lips and asked, “Wanna fuck?”

Swear to god, the word ‘fuck,’ when he said it, when it left those lips, it echoed and reverberated and practically knocked me over. It had some weird power. I know that sounds crazy but I could… feel it. Not just hear it but actually feel it, like it struck me in the chest and entered my body and branched out to my arms and legs and shoved inside my dick and filled up my balls and made my belly warm and my ears ring.

I said “Yes,” because it was the only thing I wanted. The only thing.

And then he pushed himself inside me and I was lost in a delirium of pure erotic bliss.

He was fucking that dude and the dude looked like he was drunk or high or something. Like he’s left his body behind and he was floating, and that big dude was just like shoving the biggest cock I have ever seen in my life in and out of this little dude’s ass like he was a toy or something. Like the big dude just made the small dude his Fleshlight and he grabbed his hips and the small dude was holding on for dear life as that huge, amazing, gorgeous cock slid in and out of him, glistening with spit and pre and ass juices.

Standing this close, watching them, that weird stink and heat were nearly unbearable. Like, overwhelming. I realized that it had to be coming off this giant dude’s body. Like he was sweating out sex or something, because now that it was filling my nostrils and and lungs, I realized what the smell was.

Pure sex. The smell of raw, unfiltered, 100% pure sex. Colognes and perfumes try to copy that scent but he was pumping it out like a smokestack, and it felt warm and wet and irresistible.

I reached around his wide back and found his nipples. Now, mine are pretty sensitive, so I hoped his were too. I fucking love watching a guy play with his own nipples. Guys like me, guys whose nipples are working models, we can get fucking hard as a rock and I’ve even known guys who could achieve orgasm just playing with their own nipples.

So I moved my hands across the unbelievable girth of his massive pecs, digging my fingers into the thick, soft carpet of manly fur that grew more lush and full as I neared the inches-deep cleavage, exploring all over those balloons of brawn until I found them, two prominent, absurdly large nips poking up through the fur.

And I latched on and started having fun with them. Rubbing my thumbs against them. Pinching them. Swirling my fingertips around and around and around the pencil eraser nubs until I head him groan and loll his head back in a familiar way and I knew what he was feeling, I knew he was one of the lucky ones like me, and then I felt this, like, surge of heat wash over me, like this sudden wave of raw sex or something, and my dick got rock hard and I started pumping a thick, warm load into my shorts.



I’m into legs. Some guys like arms, some guys like chests, some guys want a set of defined abs to flex and swell, but I like legs. And asses. They speak power. This guy’s legs shouted power. Every single muscle mass was keenly defined. As he fucked this other guy, I watched in desire and fascination as those muscles flexed and swelled, almost like a dance beneath his skin.

I put my hands against his legs and this thrill of erotic power seemed to pass through my arms and zero in on my cock and balls. Like he was storing up a kind of sexual power and once I touched him, he had to discharge it into me or something.

It felt real! I’m sure I was imagining its but I swear to fucking god that once I placed the palms of my hands against his flesh and muscles, some weird force or energy was thrust into me through that contact. I leaned in and kissed the back of his thighs. I licked his calves. I traced the separation between each one of his massive leg muscles with my fingers and moved my hands over that huge bubble butt, feeling it felt and tense and release with every thrust of his cock inside that other dude’s ass.

It was like he was passing the experience of fucking that smaller man into my body or something. Like I was fucking him, too, feeling the intense sensation of my cock being squeezed inside that ass, of the head being teased and rubbed, of my balls swelling with cum and growing heavier and heavier.

Like we were both fucking him, and I could feel a load of intense power, a huge load of thick, creamy, powerful cum, swelling larger and larger with every thrust.

I have to admit, being worshiped feels amazing!

All these hands all over my body, all these lips kissing me, all these fingers playing with my nipples and exploring my hole. I just kept fucking that one dude because it felt… right. Or something. Like this was what I was supposed to do, concentrate my fuck power on one guy and allow everyone else to do whatever they wanted to with me.

I started out feeling a little bad about being so big. So tall. Like, trying to kiss me was a bit challenging while I was fucking that dude’s amazing ass, but there were lots of lips willing to try.

I wanted to accommodate everyone’s desires and needs. I mean, sure, I was in charge, no doubt about that. I could feel this incredibly powerful sense of self, not ego exactly but like I was literally the center of attention but I was sending out these, like, spokes of power, male power, sex power, fuck power, into the people trying so hard to please me.

We were sharing something. I mean, sure, I was the focal point of all of it. But at the same time I felt like no matter how many people were involved in whatever we were doing on that hot sidewalk in the middle of nowhere, stripped naked in every sense, physically, sexually, emotionally, we were like one big fuck. Everything started to, like, flow. To swell and grow. And that these spokes or whatever that connected us were also growing stronger, and multiplying, and we were all fucking, and all getting fucked, and all having our holes probed and our nipples teased and our muscles rubbed and our skin stroked.

Like all of us were one, but we were also ourselves.

Almost, like, spiritual or something, you know?

Like, the most amazing fuck I ever experienced.

And something was coming. Something else. Something powerful.

Building and building, like the load in my balls, like the power in my muscles, like the size of my cock, like the pleasure I was feeling over every fucking inch of my naked body.

Building and building.

That fuck stink was overwhelming. It felt like I was being bathed in it. It was washing over my skin, hot and wet, sinking into my flesh and driving me bat shit.

I’d never been so horny in my life. Uncontrollably horny, like I could fuck a… like… army or something. Like I could walk into a bar and fuck everyone in there at the same time. Like I was made of cock.

I was losing control. I was losing my sense of who I was. I was just made of cock. Made of sex. Made of sweat and muscle and cum and fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking.

I had to come. I had to.

It felt so good. He felt so good. Inside me. Part of me. Completing me. I was made for this. It’s all I want to do.

I was close. I had that same feeling I had with the porn star dude, only stronger. Like, A LOT stronger. Overwhelming me. Becoming all that I was, all my power and strength swelling in my balls, making my dick swell and throb, making my muscles sing and bulge. It was gonna happen again. I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to, and I fucking did NOT want to.

He swelled inside me. I could feel him growing bigger, inches longer, inches thicker, the biggest cock in the world was fucking my ass and I was drowning in sexual bliss, gritting my teeth to stop from screaming in extreme ecstasy. And then….

And then, something happened to me. Something changed. Something clicked. And I started coming, blasting a load thicker and stronger than anything I had ever managed before. I had basically been coming non-stop since getting enhanced back at that lab, but this was different. No, not different … better. More, more everything.

I was exploding with cum. Just blasting it out of my dick, emptying my heavy, swollen balls, pumping a gushing explosive load of hot, thick, creamy cum and I looked down and watched this dude’s clothes start to shrink.

That’s what it looked like at first. But then I released that his clothes weren’t shrinking, the dude was growing! I reached down and grabbed his shoulders and shoved myself inside him to the hilt of my exploding prick and felt, actually felt his muscles growing.

And I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to, but even if I did, I was caught in some kind of massive sensation of overwhelming, like, manliness. I felt strong, impossibly strong, and huge and powerful and I kept coming and coming and coming.

I could feel him start pumping his load inside me like a warm rush that washed over my whole body. I’d never experienced anything like that. I could feel him coming inside me, almost picture it in my head, the mouth of his massive cock fountaining a constant flood of cum and I drank it all up, not wanting to give up a drop of what he was delivering.

Then that heat, the sensation of sex spreading along my arms and legs and into my fingers and across my chest and around my asshole and balls and cock went up, and up, and up, and everything felt good, like being plunged into a warm bath, and then into a hot sauna, and the heat kept getting hotter and hotter and I heard something, rips or something, and my clothes were so fucking tight.

He was growing. Just slowly… growing. I could feel his shoulders swelling larger under my hands, literally feel the muscle swelling. Small tears appeared along the seams of his shirt and grew slowly wider as his body continued to grow.

I was still coming! How much cum did I have?!? This was insane and impossible! No way could I be doing this, no way was this actually happening.

But it was. I could see it. I could feel it. And after a few seconds, I felt like I was in control of it, that I wanted this, I wanted to make him bigger, push my power inside him, share my enhanced potential with him, so I just kept coming, just kept pushing, just kept making him grow.

I started coming. I couldn’t help it. It was like my body was overwhelmed with sex and power and strength and my cock, hard as steel, just started pushing a thick load from my own balls. And once I started, it was like a dam broke or something.

He came inside me and I came just as powerfully, I groaned with pleasure. I sighed with bliss. I reached back and found his massive, round ass and pulled him against me, wanting him to unload every drop inside me so this feeling, this sensation of masculine power and muscular growth and ultimate sexual release would keep on going and going and going.

I was still playing with the big dude’s nipples when this, like, massive wave of wet heat struck me, as if I had walked into a fucking sauna. But it wasn’t a sauna, it was him! The big dude! And I almost fainted from the intensity of the feeling.

Because it was just raw sex. It was the most potent and powerful sexual sensation I ever felt, and it erupted from him, from his skin and his muscles, and bathed me in a hot wet wind of pure, perfect, overwhelming sex.

The dude he was fucking started coming, too. I could hardly control myself. I felt hot and hard as a rock and suddenly I was coming too! Exploding! My fucking balls felt like they were being squeezed tightly to force all my cum out of my hard-on, and I was powerless to stop it.

Not that I would have if I could have. Fuck, it felt amazing!

Now, don’t ask me why and I’ve never even considered doing this before, but before I knew what I was doing I was prying his massive glutes apart, exposing his tight, pink, gorgeous butt hole, leaning in, and licking him. Literally licking his butt hole. Tasting his taint and his sweat and that intense, musky, masculine scent was so strong I nearly passed out.

But he tasted good. So I kept doing it.

It felt so good. Everything did. Being worshipped, hands all over my skin, feeling my muscles, my nipples being twisted and tongued, my hole being rimmed, my dick inside this dude’s tight ass exploding fat pumps of cum over and over and over.

It was like… it was perfect. Me fucking this dude, coming and coming and coming, feeling his body swelling with power, and then I was doing it too!

I had this… feeling. That I wanted to get bigger. Bigger than I already was. Bigger muscles. Bigger cock. Bigger ass. Bigger balls. I wanted to be able to make all these dudes worshipping me to understand what I was, what I could do with them, and for them, just like the dude I was fucking.

And in the same minute, almost in the same moment, I decide to get bigger. To grow stronger.

I looked down, smiling, as my chest began to swell forward. My pecs were growing. The muscle was swelling larger right before my eyes.

I closed my eyes and licked my lips and kept coming and growing and coming and growing.

Then there was someone licking my asshole! Someone rimming me, pulling my ass open and sticking a warm, wet tongue inside me and I really lost it, then. If I had any control over what was happening, I didn’t any more. I was in sexual overload, so fucking horny and aroused that it was more than I could take. I had to let it out, share it, make it real.

All the limits were gone.

His dick inside me! It was massive! It was growing. Going deeper, stretching me wider, still pumping cum inside me. His cock was like a baseball bat! Like a fucking telephone pole! But I loved it! I needed it! It felt like… I don’t even have the words! Power was being shoved inside me by his cock. Power and strength and sex! More and more and more! Fuck! Fuck!

The big dude—sorry, the even bigger dude was groaning like a bear. In my mouth, I felt his nipple getting bigger. Not like it was getting erect, it was literally getting bigger, the rubbery nub swelling between my lips, pushing inside my mouth, rubbing itself against my tongue.

Everything was getting bigger. His chest was pushing outwards towards me, its hugeness trying to stretch my grip wider. His entire muscular and massive body swelled even larger with muscle and grew taller and wider by the inch. It was happening slowly, but continually, like he was being inflated or something.

Was he, like, an alien maybe? Changing right there on the street, his body becoming even bigger and stronger, that strong smell of his masculine musk stinging my nostrils and making my balls buzz and my cock throb.

Was it seconds or minutes? Or hours? I lost track of everything, locked inside that warm, wet embrace of perfect and pure masculine energy, both draining me and energizing me.

Fuck it felt good. Growing. Making the other dude grow. That tongue in my ass. My dick in that ass. A mouth latched onto one of my nips, sucking and tonguing me and I felt like I was coming from my nipples, like it was joining in with the sensation of pumping cum up the fat inches of my monster cock. That same sensation of orgasmic bliss was now happening on my nipple.

Make that nipples! I looked down and my other nipple, the one not inside the hungry dude’s mouth, was shooting, like, milk! Or cum! It was amazing! Fuck! I was triple-coming now! Fuck~

Something warm and wet struck my face and I opened my eyes as I sucked his tit and a second splash occurred, this one inside my mouth! Something thick and warm and sweet was spraying against the back of my throat and I swallowed it greedily.

So sweet, so warm. Another gush joined the first. The milk from his massive nipples was spraying inside me and outside me, soaking my shirt and filling my gut.

I sucked harder. I wanted more.

Ah, fuck. No way I could ever go back to what I was before. This was all just too fucking good. Everything felt so fucking good. My dick was growing, my muscles too. I could feel it, like I was getting heavier and bigger and stronger, like my body was sucking sex straight out of the air and making it into muscle and cock and cum.

I wasn’t scared or worried or anything like that. I was growing. Getting bigger. Getting stronger. Getting sexier. How was it possible? I didn’t really care, I just wanted more. More and more and more.

I wondered what I looked like now. I wondered how tall I was, and how much I weighed. That poor little dude from the labs is gonna be so pissed. Only a day later and all his measurements are meaningless.

I was still coming, too! So much cum! It was splashing out of his ass and splattering against me, against my crotch and my legs, pooling around my feet on the ground. My tits were shooting milk or whatever it was all over the place, squirting fat fountains of it like I was being milked, like a fucking cow or something, and it was warm and smelled like I did, like whatever that strong, sexy, musky scent was that surrounded me like a fog bank of warm, pure sex.

And I was still coming!

Would I ever stop? Maybe I just needed to decide to stop. Or maybe I had to drag myself away from these men who were all worshiping my ass and my chest and my dick. Maybe it was all this pleasure and attention that was feeding my growth, making me stronger and bigger and even sexier than before.

If that was the case, I wasn’t going to make it stop.

Not now.

Not ever.

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