Sudden changes

by BRK

 Ike woke up with a too-big hard-on that won’t quit and a constant, building need to orgasm that didn’t subside even when he came. And none of that changed the fact that he had to go to work. How the heck would he deal with this?

Added: Dec 2021 Updated: 16 Apr 2022 8,094 words 11,483 views 4.9 stars (15 votes) Parts of this story were commissioned via Patreon Vignette Party and Direct Commission.

I

I’d been feeling bleary and sluggish all week. Today it was even worse, and I almost called out. But darn it, it was my first job after high school and it just wasn’t in me to let everyone down. Sure, I was just a stock boy in one of those soulless big-box home improvement stores. I wasn’t changing the world. But Joe, my supervisor, was nice, and patient with me as I learned the ropes. And most of my coworkers were good people. They liked me. I shouldn’t make them work harder just because I was feeling like warmed-over cream-o’-wheat.

I felt stinky for some reason, so even though I’d showered the night before I took another one, not quite able to focus my mind the whole time. My average-sized dick was looking swollen and angry and wouldn’t go down, even after I jerked it off under the hot, steamy spray. I ended up trying to ignore it as I finished washing up.

I was slow and heavy as I got out of the shower and started doing sink things. After a few minutes I realized I was shaving, which was dumb because I’d done that the night before too (more preemptively than out of need). Except… staring into the mirror I could see bristles under the shave gel, and I realized I’d felt them, too, as I’d smeared it on. They looked thicker than usual, somehow—an actual manly carpet of dark stubble instead of the patchy, anemic crop I was used to. I looked weird, too, just generally—like, I had cheekbones? Something about my eyes, too. I looked… hot. And not because of the low-grade fever I felt like I was running.

Because my brain wasn’t working I just blinked at myself, confused, big hazel eyes staring back at me, and my heavy, unslakable hard-on flexed excitedly like I was so good-looking today I was turning myself on.

Then the sounds of my dad and older brother getting ready to head out to the demo site drifted up the stairs, and I remembered I had to get to work too. I finished shaving in a rush, rinsed my face, and hurried back into my bedroom to get dressed.

In the bedroom the misalignment of my day continued. My clothes didn’t fit right—my button-up work shirt was tight across the shoulders and chest for some reason, and the sleeves and pants legs were too short—but I didn’t have time to worry about it. I pulled on some gray socks and yanked on my boots (fuck, they were a bit tight, too, maybe I should wear Eric’s spare boots tomorrow), tumbled down the stairs and past the kitchen with a hello-goodbye yell to my dad and bro, and was out the door in time to catch the last bus that would get me to the Lumber’n’Stuff without clocking in late.

The whole ride there I felt conspicuous, like people were staring, their attention drawn to me by my size and the heat I felt like I was putting off, and I twitched unhappily in my oddly-fitting shirt. My balls felt heavy and my dick would not go down. It kept squeezing in my lap, all insistent, and I had this strange delusion that it was just a little larger every time it did so, longer and thicker where it pressed warm and firm against my hip. I hunched in on myself, mortified and self-conscious. I wished I had my apron, but it was safe in my locker, waiting for me.

I looked down at my wrists and decided my shirt-sleeves looked dumb riding a few inches up my forearm like that. I unbuttoned them and rolled them up, feeling uncharacteristically sausage-fingered, and waited impatiently for my stop.

By the time I clocked in I was feeling frenzied and febrile. It was like I was throbbing all over, my body echoing my swollen cock and balls. My clothes were as unhappy as I was: my once-loose work shirt was unaccountably binding across my shoulders, chest, and upper arms, and my black jeans were like an ace bandage around my thighs. Even my apron felt small. And my dick was telling me I needed to cum, now. I had to cum and if I didn’t make it happen I’d be sorry. I couldn’t make sense of any of it—it was like my blood was so hot it was cooking my gray matter.

“Ike? You okay?” someone said. I realized I was just standing there next to my open locker like I’d completely vacated my body. I turned and saw one of the twins, Emilio, looking up at me with concern in his eyes. That was unnerving, too—the twins and I were the same height, or we should have been.

Emilio and Santiago weren’t actually twins, at least as far as anyone knew. But they were the same age (25) and from the same neighborhood, and their tight, dark-skinned gymnast bodies and narrow, extremely attractive faces were by some fluke almost exactly identical. On top of that their personalities matched to a tee, and when they’d met as kids playing stick hockey on McAdam Street they snapped together like magnets and never let go. The only obvious difference to an outsider was their hair—Lio wore his longer, letting the slight wave come out—but sometimes they switched that up, too.

I knew they were never far apart, especially after Joe saw how well they worked with each other and put them on the same shifts in the garden center together. Sure enough, Ago was there, too, just over Lio’s shoulder. Even as I took in the two of them standing there frowning up at me I belatedly registered the fact that both of them were topless, their hairless, compactly muscled torsos somehow flattered by the harsh overhead fluorescents. They liked to wear sloppy tee shirts in to work and dress in their work shirts here, taking their time usually because they liked being shirtless and showing off, a lot.

I’d given them the occasional furtive glance while they were in their half-dressed state, and I’ll admit to saving the image for later use more than a few times. Now, though, my already-hormonal body’s reaction to them was out of control. I was going to cum. Hard. Immediately.

I looked down at the twins, wide-eyed with panic. “I—rhhnn,” I said, my voice sounding way low and very rough. I swallowed hard, but my voice stayed extra-deep. “I’m gonna—I gotta—” I looked down hectically at the middle of my apron where the outline of a massive, footlong dick that wasn’t mine pushed and flexed against the heavy fabric.

The twins’ eyes bugged out briefly at what they saw there. They shared a quick glance, then as one they bundled me into the employees-only one-seater just off the locker room. Lio got to work undoing the apron I’d just put on, while Ago gripped my shoulder. “Ike, buddy, it’s all right,” he said, holding my gaze. “We’re going to take care of you, okay?” I was so messed up and frenzied and turned on I just nodded, and when he smiled wolfishly I smiled nervously too. My virgin dick was about to get its first kiss, and knowing that boosted my heartbeat even higher and I nearly came right there.

The second Lio had the apron off, Ago was hauling my rigid, hot dick out of my pants, and—fuck, that so wasn’t my dick. That… that was a footlong-plus, throbbing slab of rock-hard, red-tinged cock I did not recognize at all. I goggled at it. “Whose—nnhhrr—whose dick is that?” I croaked, my voice impossibly low. I grabbed my throat to feel my protruding adam’s apple… and, inexplicably, the faintest first hints of stubble. What the heck?

Ago grinned ferally up at me. “That’s mine,” he answered, and I only realized later he thought my question was a bit of role-play. There was no doubt he meant it, though. He was claiming that too-big slab-o’-cock for his very own.

Or, rather, they were, because Lio appeared at his shoulder with a matching possessive leer. “That’s too big for just you to handle,” he told Ago sagely, sliding an arm around Ago’s back as they both admired my pulsing prick. “That’s not just yours, it’s ours.”

I knew the twins better than to expect Ago to object. If anything, his grin got wider, like sharing my monster tool with Lio was ever better than having it for himself. So hot.

Fuck, it was starting. I was going to cum right then. “Hurry,” I rasped. My whole body was flushed and surging.

They bent down quickly, licking the shaft and taking turns engulfing the head with their hot mouths while their hands found my balls, worked my shirt buttons, did things I couldn’t keep track of, and in almost no time at all I was climaxing, my entire being given over to sun-hot pleasure as I shot burst after burst of boiling cum in Ago’s mouth, then Lio’s as they seamlessly switched, then Ago’s again. Then Lio’s.

Finally I finished, and I fell back, relieved but not sated, my bare back slumping against the cold tile. Wait—had they gotten my shirt off, too? Fuck, I was out of it today. I stared at them, panting, while they looked smugly back at me, wiping their mouths just out of sync with each other with the backs of their hands.

Then we all looked down at my stiff slab-o’-manhood. It wasn’t going down.

Ago’s eyes stayed fixed on my weirdly huge and even more weirdly unstoppable prick, while Lio’s appreciative stare raked up my hair-dusted, somehow more-muscular-than-expected torso. “I’ll go get you a company shirt that fits from the stores,” he said, always the practical one. He eyed me appraisingly. “I’m guessing… XXL, tall?”

I shook my head slightly, baffled and overwhelmed by the haze of an unexpectedly powerful afterglow. Lio left. Ago looked up at me. “You need any help with that, you come find us,” he said, his tone serious. “I don’t care if it’s ten times a day—you find us, got it?”

I nodded. He palmed the back of my neck and pulled me down for a kiss, and I thrilled as much at the taste of my cum on his tongue as from the experience of my first real make-out. A moment later Lio was back and joining in the kiss, and when I finally straightened I was dazed and a little loopy. I gave the twins a goofy grin, and they smiled back at me possessively.

I levered my rigid dick back into my pants, then, putting on my new shirt (it fit, thankfully) and apron I went back out and started my shift, still self-conscious and aroused but also giddy with happiness.

I made it through a full hour. I tried ignoring it, willing it to go away, but finally I realized in shock that I was going to cum, either in my pants or in the twins’ mouths—and the second option was infinitely preferable. I ducked out quickly of the department I was in and snuck off to the garden center where the twins were more than happy to lead me to the hidden storage alcove behind the rhododendrons and take very good care of me.

Eventually we had to set up a system of secret hourly visits to various secluded places in the store, because… it didn’t stop. My hardon didn’t stop, the need to keep cumming and cumming all day didn’t stop. That was just how I was now, big and hard and constantly building to an unstoppable orgasm. Forever? I didn’t know. Everyone else turned a blind eye to our hook-ups, I think, because I think they all knew. I needed it so bad I was coming off me in waves.

Of course, my having to cum didn’t end when I clocked out, either. Lio and Ago had a plan for that, too, but that’s a whole ‘nother story.

I was late to clock out—it was almost quarter after five—and my aching, painfully hard dick was telling me I was totally on borrowed time. Gut-wrenching tidal waves of cum were seemingly building up in my balls, testing the resilience of whatever walls of inner desperation held them back. And yet… there I was in aisle 17, fixing to blow almost literally any second, and this Moloch-forsaken cluelessly DILF customer would not stop talking about screws.

I stared down at him desperately, willing him to shut up, but he kept gazing right back up at me, straight into my eyes like he couldn’t look away, while his mouth rattled off this endless verbal tickertape about the types of screws he’d tried using to stabilize the treehouse he and his son were building. It was like his mouth had been ceded total autonomy to say whatever it liked because his brain was too busy fixating on me as though it were spinning out all the fucks I would give him, successively and continuously, over the course of a life devoted to my total, will-melting hotness.

And yeah, he was cute, in a manly, compact, clean-shaven lumberjack kind of way, but the parts of me that weren’t stuck on how weird it was that he and his tow-headed spawn were building a treehouse together (who was this guy, Ward Cleaver?) were consumed with a single thought: that I needed to cum. I needed to cum, I needed to fucking spray jizz all over everything, right the fuck now. I was the kid with the finger stuck in the dike, the pressure was building, and the moment I let go that kid was going to drown in torrents of spunk, and the town behind with him.

I felt a presence behind me, just over my left shoulder, but it was taking all my concentration not to blow my load and I was using this hot dad’s eyes as a mental focal point, so I didn’t look around. After a moment of the presence just hanging there, like a poltergeist considering its options for mayhem that night, it finally spoke—but not to me.

“Sir?” came the gruff, friendly voice of my supervisor, Joe. My brain spasmed for a second—was I suddenly his boss? Was my day that weird?—but I quickly realized he was addressing Treehouse DILF here. Said DILF paused in his endless screw-litany and looked inquiringly at Joe. “I know just the screws you need,” Joe continued. “Can I show you?” At that treehouse DILF smiled brightly. As nice as it was to see, I wished he hadn’t, honestly, because in the condition I was in—practically quivering with suppressed orgasm—just seeing a happy smile on a cute guy’s face was like a long, sloppy slurp to the shaft of the agonized, pulsing, heat-radiating monster dick I was packing like a vertical steel bar, mere inches from the man, barely hidden behind the flimsy fig leaf of my tight pants and Lumber’n’Stuff apron.

Then Joe surprised me by clapping a warm hand on my (bulging) shoulder, and fuck, I almost lost it. “Ike, why don’t you go clock out?” he said. He sounded almost empathetic, as though he somehow understood what it was I was going through. Fat chance, I thought. It was definitely hard to picture the sturdy, balding, five-foot-five carpentry nut Joe Emerson beset by rabid orgasm fever. Or even orgasms at all, I snarked to myself. My lips twitched at that. I needed a little humor.

This momentary mental diversion down Sexless-Joe Road helped me steady my own problem for a second or two. I nodded to Joe without looking at him. My eyes were still aimed where they had been, though with Treehouse DILF having turned his head to look at Joe I was now gazing fixedly at his left temple. Just a few slivers of silver, I noted. Definitely works for him.

Joe spoke again, giving my now-rounded traps a squeeze through the extra-large tall-man uniform shirt Lio had found for me—the one that despite being a couple of sizes up from the work shirt I’d worn comfortably for the monthlong entirety of my new and only first-post-high-school job still somehow managed to strain just little against muscles I swear I had not had the day before. “Good,” Joe said, clearing his throat slightly. “And, you know, maybe stop by the garden center on the way, if you need to,” he added quietly.

My breath caught, but I gave another jerky nod as Joe wandered off with Treehouse DILF. Geez, everyone knew. Was Joe just being an attentive boss, or was my condition obvious to anybody, just from looking at me and feeling the waves of sex pouring off me as my urgency intensified, heartbeat by thudding heartbeat?

It didn’t matter. I needed help, now. Without any further delay I abandoned Aisle 17 and started walking very rapidly toward the back of the store where I knew I could get the bi-oral blowjob that in that moment was more important than anything else I could think of.


When I got back to the garden center I experienced a moment’s panic—the place looked utterly empty. No customers, no twins, nothing. Had they logged out already? Had I missed them? I hurried through the rows of perky flowers in their little peat ice-cube-tray inhumation pots and the hanging baskets of overflowing petunias and lantana, looking around for any sign of life, but it was like I was suddenly in a deserted world where it would be nothing but zombies, my dick, and me. I checked the shrubs and potted trees outside in case they were lurking there, my dick and me chanting no, no, no in unison the whole time. Finally, my cum-soaked brain remembered to check the secret alcove behind the rhododendrons, and sure enough, there they were, huddled gleefully over one of their phones. I stood at the narrow entrance to our little sex nook, overcome with relief and urgent need, and my pulse quickened as they looked up at me and grinned. I think they took a picture—in retrospect I’m pretty sure I heard the little “shutter click” noise—but at that moment I was so focused on them and what they were about to do for me they could have set up a three-camera studio set and streamed me on Disney+ and I wouldn’t have given a fuck.

“Hi,” I said breathily. After rushing around looking for them I was breathing a little heavily, and their eyes went to my subtly heaving bosom for a second of simple admiration before they sprang into action. In what was already a well-practiced action Ago had my apron off and Lio was popping open my waistband and undoing the tautly-pulled zipper on my straining fly before to expose my mighty thirteen-inch club. I was already emitting precum at the same level of output my orgasms used to be, and my release was building stronger and stronger in my core, held back now mostly by the need to feel the twins’ ardent mouths and lips and tongue on my quivering, iron-hard flesh and to cum explosively into their wondrously hot, jizz-zealous mouths. “Please please please,” I babbled mindlessly as they worked to prepare me like a pit stop crew, tossing aside the apron and pulling my too-tight pants down together.

I moaned, a little more loudly than I meant to, as Lio and Ago knelt and wrapped their mouths around the sides of my fat, red-tinged shaft from either side, while their four hands stroked randomly across my hard, round, caress-whore butt and down my firm, hairy thighs and thickened calves. My hands found their scalps, and, fuck, even rubbing their heads was making me ride the edge. “Unnnhhhh, guys—oh, I can’t hold back—I can’t—”

“Try,” Ago purred mischievously, and muzzily I realized they were still faffing about, mouthing my shaft and making no more effort to get to the end and give me that glans-engulfing warmth that gave me to go-ahead to cum my brains out.

Lio pulled back long enough to grin slyly at me and reinforce his “brother”. “I bet you can hold out longer than you think,” he said with a smirk, before applying those lips not to the head my fucking monster dong, the teasing bastard, but to the hefty, tight-pulled, lime-sized balls underneath.

“Nh—guuuuys—” I whined, pleading with them. They just looked up at me with those clever, dark-brown eyes, and then their tongues slithered out almost exactly in sync and started sliding all over the now-crazy-sensitive underside of my too-big boner, mostly independently, though they were playing together when they met, while working their lips the whole time, in a way that made my eyes roll back in my head so far it felt like they dropped down the back and fell through my neck. I whimpered, words lost to me now, but somehow I wasn’t cumming, though it was like I was holding back enough cum I’d have needed the Hoover Dam to keep it all in. I was going to black out, I was sure of it. I wasn’t a body anymore, just a mass of sensations and a world-consuming cock and balls. Would I explode literally instead of just figuratively? Would that be the end, a destructive deep space supernova of pleasure, leaving nothing but a floating cum-nebula behind?

Then, just as I knew I truly could not take any of this a second longer, I felt a sultry, adoring mouth wrap firmly around the head of my impossibly rigid, painfully hard dick, and suddenly I was erupting as though I were the metonym of human orgasm, like you would look up “stupendous male climax” in the dictionary and find nothing but a cross-reference that read “see IKE (v.)”.

I came for what felt like a ridiculously long time, and each swap of mouths around my cock between Emilio and Santiago seemed to spur me to more soaring gouts of boiling, high-pressure cum, all of it eagerly gulped down as their talented tongues wrapped around my head and my twitching upper shaft, wringing every last fluid ounce of spend out of my strung-out body. Finally I was used up, and though my dick remained unflaggingly stone-hard I myself collapsed flaccidly to my knees, sliding into the twins’ embrace. Their dicks were out too, long, veiny. and uncut and unlike mine starting to flag—they had cum as well, probably without touching themselves, just like they’d been doing all day in each of our little release sessions. I hoped it was as much of a rush for them as it was for me.

Even kneeling I was taller than them, but at least they were closer now—close enough that I could look between their handsome, playful, cum-mussed faces and feel a rush of raw affection injecting into the intense, swirling tempest of hot, inundating pleasure that was almost all of my ultrasatiated awareness. I needed to say thank you. But my capacity for speech had been washed away in the flood, so I just leaned down and gave Lio what turned out to be a very messy, cummy kiss. Then I did the same with a grinning Ago.

They got the message, anyway, because as I was kissing Ago and they were rubbing my back and chest Lio nuzzled my neck and murmured “you’re welcome, stud,” his lips close enough to my ear I shivered.

I ended the kiss with Ago and rested my damp forehead on the crown of his skull, my arms around them both. My heart was still pounding, and my cock was still stiff and ready to go. I’d need this again soon. I could see that the twins had been trying to show me I had the willpower to hold out longer, maybe, but I’d still only managed a handful of minutes this time before I’d burst like an overloaded reactor. “I don’t know how I’ll make it to tomorrow morning,” I panted honestly.

The weekend was coming up, too, I thought darkly—which meant 64 hours of not having this suddenly very necessary thing. I squeezed them harder. “Hey,” Ago said. “Look at me.”

I did so, taking in his remarkably attractive face and those eyes that seemed so much deeper now that we had this connection. Unlike Lio, who was letting his thick, slightly wavy black hair grow out a little, Ago was buzzed short around the ears and a little longer up top, and instinctively I raised a hand and ran it over the sort, sweaty hairs along the side of his head. He smiled and reciprocated by stroking the two-days’ growth of beard I now had despite having shaved that morning. “You, stud boy,” he said, holding my gaze, “are not getting rid of us that easily.”

I could have made a joke about them just being insatiable for cock, but I really could see in his eyes he meant it. When I looked over at Lio I saw only the same heated sincerity, just like with Ago. I mean, yeah, that was the sincerity of two guys who truly wanted to help me take care of my dick—it wasn’t love or anything—but in that moment I was so grateful, so relieved, I actually felt my eyes stinging a little. “Yeah?” I asked Lio pathetically.

Lio smiled wide, but it was a gentle smile. He still had little smears of cum on his chin and cheeks. “Yeah,” Lio said. “We take care of what’s ours.”

I huffed a laugh, remembering the claim they’d staked when I’d first stumbled in that morning, already desperate to cum. “By which you mean my dick,” I said, smiling as I looked back at Ago.

“Absolutely,” said Ago. I held them close, and they did the same with me and each other, and for a little while everything was just the three of us there, kneeling on the ground in the hidden back room of the Lumber’n’Stuff garden center, basking in snuggly, monumental afterglow while the rest of the world spun slowly around us.


I didn’t have anything to change into after clocking out, seeing as the uniform shirt I’d worn into work hadn’t actually fit me anymore, so I’d just expected to stay in my bland sand company top as we made post-shift plans to migrate to Duggan’s, the family style kitsch-stuff-nailed-to-the-wall-type restaurant next door. Emilio and Santiago, however, had other ideas. No sooner had we made it to the locker room, to clean up a bit and let the twins do their usual swap back into their baggy civilian street wear, than I was speedily relieved of my work shirt as well, leaving me topless next to my two friends-plus coworkers. I was looming over them a little, and I couldn’t help but fell bulky and strange compared to their lithe, extremely fit bodies.

I’d spent the preceding month since I’d met them on my first day covertly admiring their fine, light-brown, carefully sculpted physiques, which they showed off liberally at the top and bottom of every shift, dragging out the process of getting dressed as long as possible while they chatted with the coworkers passing in and out and whispered with each other. Back then, their effortless aesthetic buffness had had feeling skinny, pale, and unappealing by comparison. Now, instead, I felt big, awkward, and ungainly. I was hard and cut, to the point of being visibly striated in my delts and pecs and showing intercostals and other muscle details you only ever saw in comic books. The skin over my suddenly-discovered ab muscles especially looked practically vacuum-packed. But my towering overnight brawn was profoundly alien to me, and at the moment it felt like a poor patch on the elegantly built, endlessly watchable twunk twins. My long, stubby thirteen-incher had slipped up past the waistband from its usual angled position, and the way it was thrusting, red and slippery tipped, from the insufficient confines of my too-tight black jeans felt just as brutal and crass, especially given its stubborn, implacable refusal to soften even the slightest bit.

I tried ignoring all that, jamming it into the same overstuffed closet into which I’d already stuffed the huge question of why this was happening to me and my terror over the fact that I couldn’t stop needing to cum. Instead I tried focusing on the topless Lio and Ago, who were whispering with each other near their open full-length locker at the other end of the row, looking up at me periodically with mischievous eyes. I leaned my broad, naked back against the cold tile wall behind me and folded my arms over my hairy, newly prominent chest in what was probably a poor pretense at being chill.

“You guys ever… play with each other?” I heard myself ask. Well, I needed a distraction anyway, and I really did want to know.

They broke off their discussion and smirked at me. Their symmetry of expression was even weirder and more compelling than a mirror image, in a way, because both their mouths were tilted toward the left, so their expressions were both complementary and independent at the same time. “What do you think?” they said. It was the first time they’d spoken in unison—I guess it was that dumb a question. As I watched they folded their arms naturally around each other, lightly pressing their dusky, perfectly muscled bare torsos together, the whole time keeping their eyes fixed right on me. I watched tensely, mouth slightly open like a tool. My dick squeezed and slid an inch closer to the vertical in response (leaving a thin, arcing smear of slime across the curving brawn to the left of my abs), and they laughed, breaking the mood. I laughed too. “I think this is where I say, ‘Now, kiss’,” I drawled.

Ago wiggled his dark brows at me, and Lio winked.

“What are you hooligans up t—shit, never mind,” teased Geoff, the part-time doors and windows guy, entering the same row of lockers with us. He gave the twins a look that said he understood being oversexed even if he didn’t play for our team (but maybe keep it in their pants around all the poor straight guys, you know), before turning to his locker and undoing the padlock. Meanwhile, I stared at the guy. he was an absolute beast, almost my (new) height and probably fifty pounds heavier, all of it hairy, off-season muscle. Just looking at him unexpectedly put my own gains in perspective, though it was still weird for me to be suddenly halfway between the twins and Geoff in bulk, rather than languishing in last place out of the whole store muscle-wise. (Even Josie in flooring had been more buff then me, before.)

Now, whether his dick outclassed me as well I had no idea, but I wasn’t sure I cared. He wasn’t my type anyway. I went for lean, buff guys with sweet faces and playful personalities. Obviously.

Abruptly, Geoff cut into my thoughts. “How you settling in, Ike?” he asked me without looking around, snapping his lock open. “Everything starting to feel routine?”

“Not… exactly,” I said, a little bemused.

The twins were still embracing, just to egg me and Geoff on, I guess, though in different ways. “Hey, Geoff,” Lio said, “remember what we asked you about earlier?”

Geoff glanced over at them. “Oh, yeah,” he said, and turning back to his locker he pulled something red and neatly folded from the top shelf and handed it to Lio, who took it and, holding it by the top, let it unfold itself. To my surprise it was a crimson, string-strap, deep-cut tank top. Obviously it was a spare Geoff kept in his locker just in case, maybe to work out in after his shift if he forgot his gym bag or something. At any rate it was clearly sized for heavyweights like him. To me it looked like both twins could have fit inside it, if they were being up close and personal like now, anyway. So why were they borrowing a shift that would fit either of—? Oh. Right.

Ago was facing Geoff, but Lio was looking right at me, his smile fiendish as he tossed me the tank. I snatched it out of the air, narrowing my eyes at him as I did so.

“Why did you guys need it, anyway?” Geoff asked curiously, as he pulled off his own work shirt (which looked like a tent once it was off, compared to mine), briefly revealing miles of furry beef before he pulled on a baggy Moosehead Beer tee shirt, hiding the Ponderosa from view.

“Ike here needs some civvies,” Ago said. “For our date.”

Geoff ignored the last part, probably assuming Ago was joking. I knew better, and my pulse picked up a bit. “Oh yeah?” Geoff said, turning to look at me. “Doesn’t he have—” He took me in at last, complete with my messy, protruding hard-on, and I felt my cheeks redden. I honestly could not tell if he truly noticed I was bigger than I was yesterday, or if he was thinking that he was just realizing I was more built than he thought. Or if he was seeing anything other than my ruler-busting tool. “Got it,” Geoff said a second later, sounding distracted. Then he frowned at the ooze glistening on my cockhead. “You might want to take care of that first, though,” he said pointedly. “Otherwise you’ll leave stains, and that shit don’t wash out.”

The twins just grinned and didn’t say anything like they suddenly weren’t a part of this conversation, the jerks, leaving me hanging. “Uh, thanks, Geoff,” I said awkwardly. It seemed like the polite thing to pull it on, like if you get earrings as a present and you have to get ’em on your ears right away or risk looking ungrateful. “I’ll, uh, get it back to you clean,” I said, as the tank dropped over me. It looked ridiculous, I thought—it was clearly too big, even on my new form. Probably eighty percent of my muscles were still in clear view, not to mention my nipples and most of my new chest hair, though my boner was, blessedly, hidden by the thickness of the fabric and the looseness of the drape over my pecs.

Geoff considered. “You know what, just keep it,” he said, turning back to his locker. He hung the work shirt from the internal hook and closed the locker door, snapping the padlock shut. “I got dozens of the damn things.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Where you been working out, anyway?” he asked curiously, lingering. He nodded toward my generously thickened physique. “I hadn’t realized you were training like that.”

I kind of expected the twins to answer this, them being the glib ones out of our trio, but they were just standing there, all folded up in each other and enjoying the show. I gave them a cold look, then glanced back at Geoff. I had no idea what to tell him, mostly because I didn’t have the first clue myself how I’d gotten an insatiably horny, testosterone-overdosed, second-puberty Adonis body literally overnight. In desperation I named the hardcore gym my brother and dad went to all the time, a couple miles from where we lived on the west side of town, figuring it was far enough away that would be a safe answer. Geoff’s eyebrows jumped up in surprise. “Yeah?” he said. “I’m in there four times a week as a trainer. Must have missed you.”

Damn it. I shot another quick dagger-look at the twins. “Uuuh, I work out at… weird times,” I told the beast-man lamely. Not sus at all, right? I thought unhappily. Well, “never” is definitely a weird time to work out, if you’re getting results like mine.

“I guess so,” Geoff said slowly, nodding like he didn’t quite believe me and wasn’t sure why. “Welp,” he said, addressing us generally as he walked backward out of the row, “stay out of trouble, you three. Enjoy your date!” Then he turned and disappeared.

As soon as he had exited the locker room the twins started laughing. “You assholes,” I said, but I couldn’t help chuckling along with them.

The twins reluctantly broke their embrace and (clearly just as begrudgingly) shrugged into the tee shirts they’d come in with that morning, after which we all left together. On our… date, I guess. Whatever you call three fuckbuddies getting to know each other over chicken parmigiana and overpriced Cokes. Either way, I was looking forward to it.


Waiting to be seated at Duggan’s it hit me that Lio and Ago were both wearing solid-color tee shirts. Lio’s was green and Ago’s was bright white, while I was sporting the solid red tank. Standing together we looked like we were cosplaying the Italian flag. If we had been at an Olive Garden I would have had to have walked out.

Not that anyone was looking at what we were wearing exactly. The hostess, a tall woman with frizzy blond hair name Lissy who looked no older than my age, couldn’t decide whether to stare at the twin’s beaming faces or my mostly-exposed torso. The arctic air-conditioning in there making my bared nipples extra-pokey was probably tipping the scales my way.

The hostess went to check something, disappearing through the archway behind the podium into the dark hurly-burly of the noisy main dining room, and suddenly we were alone in the lobby. For some reason I still felt… exposed. I almost wanted to leave anyway. Maybe I could find something else to wear? Normal stuff. There was an Old Navy in the next strip mall over, I was pretty sure, right? But the thing was, I was also weirdly reluctant to separate from Lio and Ago just then. Because I wasn’t normal. Nothing was normal. I felt unnerved at my own lack of independence, but I rationalized that so much was upturned in my life it wasn’t ridiculous for me to lean on my crew a bit. Too much was unresolved. I’d be stronger once I.. got used to… Fuck, how was I going to get used to this?

I needed to cum again soon. I could feel it.

I would need to cum again, and again, and again, unstoppably, day after day… it would never end—

The twins were standing in front of me now—I’d missed their moving to face me. They were giving me that possessive, smirky look that said they were there for me, and they were especially there for my cum. I couldn’t help it—I huffed a laugh. They grinned back.

“How are you guys so cool with this?” I blurted.

“Cool with what?” Lio asked, one eyebrow raised. “Going on a threesome date?”

“Hanging out with a hot coworker?” Ago put in.

“Getting ogled by wait staff?”

“Wanting to jump your bones and guzzle your jizz?”

They were teasing me, and it was weirdly endearing. I made pfft sound. “Me,” I clarified. I nodded down at myself. “This.”

Their response to this was to shrug breezily, though the look in their eyes turned a little more serious. “The world is a strange place,” Ago said matter-of-factly. “A while back I realized just how strange, and I knew from then on the best philosophy was to roll with it.”

This intrigued me. “What made you decide that?” I asked.

He glanced at Lio. “Oh, nothing huge,” he said fondly. “Just playing stick hockey one day and running into a kid who looked exactly like me.”

“And who turned out later to like dick exactly as much as you, too,” Lio added knowingly.

“Which is the other reason we’re okay with… all this,” Ago finished, waving at this burgeoned, augmented, ridiculously-hormone-addled version of me.

I couldn’t pass that up. “You just gestured to all of me,” I said, in a nasal voice I hoped sounded at least a little like Jay Baruchel.

Ago snorted. Lio said in a ridiculous Scottish accent, “That’s because we want to ride your drag—”

“Your table’s ready, gentlemen!” Lissy interrupted, having suddenly appeared in the archway clutching a passel of giant menus to her chest. “Follow me please?”

We threaded through the four-tops, six-tops, and ten-tops behind her like green explorers following a local guide, finally arriving at a big, deep booth in a darkened corner of the dining room that was mostly hidden behind square pillars and huge ferns. I almost balked, feeling like this was really throwing gasoline on the flames of temptation, but Lio and Ago—of course—”rolled with it,” Ago pulling me into the booth behind him and Lio sliding in after me. We ended up all crowded close around the far end of the booth, thighs pressed firmly together. I went to adjust my hardon so I could sit more comfortably, but Lio, catching me starting to shift my hand in that direction, reached down and did it for me. And then his hand stayed exactly where it was, wrapped firmly around the middle of my iron-hard pipe of a cock.

That was just the beginning. And yes, I did blow my massive load right there in the booth midway through the meal, both twins under the table, once we’d all decided that I couldn’t hold back any longer no matter how good the twice-fried Cajun fries were. And yes, we were almost caught by our waiter, a nervous but surprisingly good-looking beanpole named Whit. Or maybe we were caught, because Whit seemed a little more nervous after that, and his eyes seemed to be, like, permanently rounded.

That wasn’t even the strangest part of the night. Nor was it what happened in the movie theater an hour or so later after we’d decided to go see the latest Andrew Chen spy flick, which some Reddit subthread had already judged to have the best Shirtless Action Quotient of the last five years. I’m still not sure how we got away with that little escapade, but I will say I’ve never enjoyed a movie quite as much as that one.

They walked me to the bus stop. They offered to bring me home with them, and I think they genuinely wanted to help me out emotionally as much as they wanted to assist me out with my manic, constant need to pump them full of jizz on an hourly basis. But somehow over the course of the evening their “roll with it” vibe had colonized me. I felt like I needed to take the next step in my unexpected journey. I was pretty sure I was ready. I just—I needed to be Ike Cumsalot on my own two feet.

They laughed when I told them that, in those words. We hugged and exchanged very dirty kisses with lots of tongue, and then they were telling me they’d see me tomorrow and I was climbing on the crosstown bus in my shrunken jeans and beast-sized bodybuilder tank. I got a lot of stares and more than a few guys were clearly stunned and intrigued and very aroused, and I was starting to think I could cope with the novelty of being someone who turned guys on. It might even come in handy at some point. (Heh, “handy.”)


So, the strangest part of my night? That happened when I got home.

Somehow, my older brother Hank knew to be waiting for me, loitering in the foyer like he had a sixth sense of when I’d be coming home and why tonight was different; and when I came through the door and he spotted me he grinned wider than I’d ever seen him grin. All at once I was being crushed in a massive hug, and for the first time it wasn’t a hug involving a massive big brother and an unimpressive literally little little brother. I wrapped my arms around him in turn, realizing all at once that we were suddenly equals, in thickness, strength, height, muscle, hotness… and, as I felt to my shock as our groins pressed together, in our raging, massive, indomitable hard-ons.

Feeling that pressing against me shocked me like a cattle prod, and I pulled back from him, staring at him in amazement as we held each other. It was like I was seeing him for the first time. Hank was tall and ripped, and I had been dimly aware that he hadn’t been quite so big or bulky a few years back, when he was in high school and I was just entering middle school. But our five-year age difference had made him a kind of alien to me. I couldn’t relate to him as a kid, so I’d never really paid attention.

Now, though—maybe it was my testosterone saturation and my heightened, relentless need to cum, but I could not get over how sexy my handsome, tastefully bearded, totally built and crazy-hung manly man of a brother was. I kind of wanted to kiss him. More than kind of, actually. And I could not escape the sense that the admiration in his eyes had a certain carnal tinge to it as well.

“Dad, you gotta see this,” Hank called over his shoulder toward the living room. Then my Dad, Adam, appeared behind Hank, and again it was like the scales had fallen from my eyes. He’d always been the utter embodiment of virility for both of us, but… now I saw that he was exactly like Hank: extremely good-looking, extra-tall, extra-hairy, extra-hunky, and on top of it looking like he had at most six years on Hank rather than the just barely sixteen he did have. (Yeah, my Dad had an interesting adolescence, but that’s another story.)

A proud smile had broken over his face, and he moved to join our hug. “It’s finally happened,” Hank said excitedly as we felt Dad’s strong arms wrap around us. His words opened up a realization in my brain. What was happening to me—it wasn’t a random fluke. It was a thing. A family thing. Adam, Hank, and now Ike. It was a thing, a thing we shared.

My heart squeezed, unprepared for this. I had spent the whole day feeling different, and just when the twins get me feeling okay with that, the twist comes and I find out that I have… kin like me. A tribe.

I wanted to know everything. What this was, how they had dealt with it, whether there were more changes to come—all of the questions I had stuffed in that closet because I was sure I could never face them, sure I could never ask anyone.

I wanted to cry, I wanted to laugh, and shit, I really wanted to cum, which also made me want to laugh. That never went away, I guess. As I pulled these two tall, hunky men tighter against me, I heard Dad murmur happily into my neck. “You’re one of us now, Ike,” he said.

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