Synthetic reality: Tourist trap

by brazboy

Hans is fascinated by sizedivergent men, but unfortunately there aren’t many of them back where he lives—and so, he decides to spend his vacations in São Paulo, the Mecca of sizedivergent culture. After crossing the equator he sees many great wonders, and experiences some of them himself.

Added: Sep 2021 Updated: 2 Oct 2021 18,237 words 6,114 views 5.0 stars (3 votes)

H

Hans was a simple man with simple tastes: he loved large men with big muscles and even bigger cocks. Unfortunately for him, there weren’t that many of those in his hometown—a small city in the German countryside—and so growing up he mostly had to be satisfied with pictures and videos and the odd sight of a sizedivergent men walking down the street when he travelled to the big city. Even after moving to one of the largest cities in the country, he still counted the precious few times a week when he’d see those large ubermen walking around, or inconspicuously sitting in the bus, or working at the local bakery, or waiting in the line at the supermarket. Each one of those opportunities became another cherished memory in his collection which he could access when he masturbated—that is, whenever he wasn’t watching sizedivergent porn, or, sizedivergent sports (which were almost the same thing, sometimes).

One of Hans’s happiest days was when a sizedivergent man was transferred from Italy to his office—seeing Enzo every day, walking through the hallways of the company and taking the elevator (almost filling it by himself) was amazing. Watching him in the kitchen and seeing his muscles move, almost bursting his shirt, when he tried to open the refrigeration, had occasionally made Hans come right on the spot. He became so obsessed with his coworker that he almost memorized Enzo’s schedule: when he arrived (his ass almost too big to pass through the turnstile in the entry to the company’s building), when he left for lunch, when he came back from lunch, the paths he liked to take to and from the toilet. In all honesty, Hans did feel creepy doing all that but, yet, he couldn’t stop himself—knowing his schedule meant he could maximize his proximity to Enzo. And being so close to a man that large; a man whose muscles made him wobble more so than walk, was intoxicating for him. Addictive, really.

Nonetheless, Hans never built up the courage to approach any of the sizedivergent men he saw in his daily life: he always went to the same bakery to see a large 2,5m tall man whose cock was so immense and whose balls were so productive that he had to work with a condom around his penis as to contain all his overflowing precum—but he never talked to him, preferring to ask the female assistant for help while ogling the larger man while he checked other customers. Similarly, despite always shopping at the same supermarket—the one where they had an astoundingly broad-backed and well-hung Peruvian cashier, he still never managed to actually stand in line to go through his register, instead preferring the one right next to it. In summation, Hans knew what he wanted—larger men—and yet he seemingly couldn’t get himself to approach them at home.

One winter day, however, Hans was walking down in the main street of his city—it was cold, and a gust of air blew his scarf away. He could feel his penis shrinking in his pants—he felt miserable, and he thought everyone around him must have felt the same. Then, he looked up, and he saw a big flat screen attached to the side of a building. First, it showed the temperature where he was: 0 degrees Celsius. Weirdly enough, though, then the number changed: 27 degrees Celsius, it now read—in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil! And then the temperature was replaced by other images of Rio: a man paragliding above a city nested between the blue ocean and a green mountain range; dozens of people playing footvolley at a beach right before sunset; a beautiful woman hiking near a waterfall, and then kids jumping from the fall into a natural pool. And then, suddenly—as if meaning to talk directly to him—another image showed up: a hugely muscular man running through a long linear park, passing through several palm trees: his superhuman muscles bobbing up and down as he ran, his large bulge—held together by a strong net that tied around his back—also jumping up and down with each step.

As the man ran, the camera turned 180 degrees around, showing now not him, but what he saw: a large pack of sizedivergent man running head of him—some were also fully dressed, others were shirtless, and a few were sporting large erections which they tied to their torsos so their cocks wouln’t sway around as they run. Beyond the pack of sizedivergent men, one saw the Sugarloaf Mountain, the ocean and a beach. The camera then started getting closer and closer to the Sugarloaf, until the logo appeared: “Come to Brazil,” it said.

And so, seeing that, Hans decided to take time off from work to fly to Brazil. Given his interests, however, he chose not Rio, but the Mecca of sizedivergence: São Paulo—where 1 in every 6 men were “unusually large.” His psychologist also agreed that it might be good for him to take this trip—a “shock therapy,” he had said, might “help tone down his unhealthy obsession with size.” Hans doubted that, but he was more than happy to go explore “an amount of the object of your obsession which is enough to overwhelm your senses.”

Even arriving at the assigned gate for his flight the young man could hardly contain his cock: waiting for boarding, amongst more than 300 hundred passengers, there were maybe 25 to 30 ubermen! Hans tried to adjust his cock, which rose immediately when he saw the other passengers waiting around, as his eyes moved from one hyper tall supercocked male to the next: one had a long cock covered by a cocksleeve dragging on the floor; the next, had arms so large they couldn’t stay anywhere near parallel to his broad torso, and in fact he had had to ask his friend to take his passport from his pocket as he couldn’t reach it himself; a third had a muscular butt so immense that when he moved his weight from one leg to the next it almost seemed like he was twerking.

If this was boarding his flight, imagine what the trip itself would be like!

Hans, unlike most other passengers, barely had a wink of sleep in their way down south. He did go to the toilet several times, though. In the first time he promised himself he wouldn’t jack off in such a public environment, but walking through the halls of the aircraft he saw a succession of hot ubermen sleeping, talking to other people, or just trying to keep their balls from overflowing onto other passengers. Having seen that, Hans’s cock was literally twitching by the time he got to the toilet.

Hans entered the empty toilet designed for normal-sized passengers, and lowering his paints his proud 27cm German cock flew up. Damn, was it ready! When his warm hands touched the rod, planning to bring it down so he could pee, his instincts led him to fully encircle his width with his hand, and then to start slowly stroking his shaft—from the middle up, and then back down. That action produced a wonderful feeling, and Hans’s pleasure grew when he closed his eyes and imagined the one sizedivergent steward walking around the plane with his hard cock falling on his lap “by accident.”

“Hmmm, hmmmm,” he moaned to himself, almost surprised by his own touch and by how sensitive his cock was right then, before he started really beating his meat. After a few minutes Hans would eventually come copiously inside the plane’s toilet.

He came about 5 more times during the rest of the flight—roughly once every two hours.


Having landed and left the plane, Hans was welcomed to Brazil by a huge poster which had the most famous images of the country: the statue of Christ the Redeemer, Copacabana beach, a female with a nice ass and tits playing beach volley, and an immense sizedivergent man with his cock painted in blue and red stripes dancing in the middle of the carnival parade. Hans’s cock, despite having received plenty of attention in the last few hours, immediately rose to attention under his underwear—it would have poked out of his pants had it not been for Hans’s careful intervention while he walked to customs.

Never did Hans appreciate a line more than at the immigration to enter Brazil. As he and other foreigners waited in the designated line, several Brazilians passed through the priority lines and as such he managed to watch literally a hundred sizedivergent men go by—first, they’d come from the hall towards them and he’d see their cocks and balls moving under their clothes as they walked; then, they’d walk past where he was and he’d watch their assess and broad backs walking away, hugged by tight pants and t-shirts to an almost obscene degree.

When it was finally his time to present his passport to immigration, Hans almost dropped it as he noticed the man in front of him was, himself, extremely muscular and handsome—he was most likely a sizedivergent man himself!

“Purpose of your stay?” asked the Brazilian immigration officer with a thick accent. Hans could barely answer as he handed his documents, watching the officer move his muscular arm to take the papers.

“Uh… tourism,” he finally answered, as the officer’s pecs were pressed together by his bringing his arms closer to his frame in order to type in his keyboard.

“Good. Length of stay?” asked the officer.

“27 centimeters… I mean day. 27 days,” Hans said, stumbling on his words. The officer looked at Hans, who had turned red like a tomato, and gave him a smirk. He then typed a few more things into his computed and asked Hans to pose for a picture.

“Perfect,” said the officer, before handing Hans back his documents, “Welcome to Brazil and have a nice stay,” he said.

Hans just nodded in reply, before dragging himself to luggage reclamation without really being able to forget the officer’s pecs jutting forwards when he brought his arms together. His cock throbbed again at the thought.

“This is going to be a hard trip,” Hans thought to himself.


Hans left luggage reclamation to enter the main hall of the airport. Passing through the sliding doors was like seeing a brave new world open in front of him: he saw several largish and extra-large men and women walking around, amid more normal sized people who seemed to not mind them as they went on their way to wherever they were going. Facing the exit from international arrivals, Hans saw a huge screen advertising several products. It said something in Portuguese and showed the image of a large sizedivergent man walking, his dick dripping a stream of precum over the street as he crossed the screen, and a city clerk passing and cleaning the ground behind him—the text then shifted to English: “Don’t be a drain on others: drain yourself at CUMSA,” and then the name of an app and a list of addresses appeared.

Shocked at the display, Hans looked to the side and saw another ad directed at sizedivergent men: against a green background, the add showed three immense men, one Asian-looking, one white and one black. Each had immense muscles and a hard cock which rose vertically taller than their heads. The camera turned around the three men, as their cocks rubbed against each other and then a cock sleeve fell on each of them, covering their hardness. The ad then said something in Portuguese and showed a number: 79,99. The cocksleeves which were covering the hard rods of the three men then changed colors and styles several times, and each one of them smiled as they hugged their hardons before being replaced by a logo.

Ei, cara, sai da frente!” yelled a male voice behind Hans, as he had stopped in the middle of everyone’s way while watching the ads. Hans didn’t know what the man behind him had said, but he did realize he was in the wrong and getting in the way, so he simply apologized in English and moved out of the main path. Even then, he couldn’t really get his eyes off the screens.

Another screen showed the time and the temperature outside. It then changed to show the time of scheduled flights, and finally which ones were delayed or canceled. Then, the name of a travel insurance appeared in bold letters, before being replaced by a family walking in front of the Eiffel Tower. The image then changed again to a young couple walking on the Great Wall of China. Finally, the image changed once more, to three friends walking in the middle of Times Square, one of whom was about 30% taller than the others, his muscles making his presence conspicuous even in the middle of the crowd, and his large cock poking out of his shirt near his neck. Then he logo of the travel insurance appeared once more.

Hans was shocked and overwhelmed by what he saw: normalized sizedivergence. So many, just so many men bigger than even Enzo—and he thought Enzo was so large, so manly! Honestly, some of the guys walking in the airport made the cock of the cute baker back in Germany look like a worm next to these snakes. Hans tried to control his heartbeat and his breathing, as he was starting to hyperventilate. It was just… a dream come true. Only thing left was to actually get close to these immense men, but here he’d have endless opportunities for that!

Hans then moved towards the taxis stands, passing between and trying to ignore all the large ubermen around him, and also his hard cock in his pants demanding urgent attention. Finally, he got to the stands and negotiated a taxi with the old lady working there—which was hard, because she barely spoke any English and Hans didn’t know a word of Portuguese. Hans then followed the assigned driver outside and entered his car as the old man put his luggage in the trunk. As they drove away from the airport, sitting in the backseat of the half a decade old Corolla, Hans inhaled the cold AC air as deep as he could, trying to control himself.

He then looked outside, seeing the other cars the taxi driver overtook in the expressway as they left the airport. Eventually, Hans saw a crowded bus a few meters away, and he noticed that it was so full inside that people were basically rubbing against each other—including two large sizedivergent males, one of whom had his balls resting on the lap of the woman sitting on the seat in front of him, while his cock stood at attention above that row of seats, almost touching the bus’s window as it danced around following each and every movement of the bus.

Hans’s eyes widened as he saw that, and followed the bus until it took a turn to a side road.

“My God,” he thought to himself, “What the fuck is this country?”


Hans chose to stay at a hostel, not because it was cheaper (although that was a plus) but because according to the internet it was “the best place to meet new people.” Unfortunately, however, apparently the place he chose was not very popular amongst sizedivergent people, as he didn’t see any in the lobby while doing his check-in—other than the guy working at the reception desk, of course. He was about Hans’s age (maybe a year or two younger), and had thin red lips which were made more startling in contrast with his honey-colored skin; his hair was dark brown and curly. His more notorious physical aspect, however—at least from behind the reception desk—seemed to be his large upper body muscles.

“So, this is the key to the locker and the card to your room,” said the nice, smiley sizedivergent lad, handing Hans a key and a card. Hans took it while being careful to avoid touching the man’s large hand for too long. “Anything else you need, like information on tours or places to go and things to do around here, please come talk to me,” he completed. Hans smiled and thanked him for the help before going upstairs to put his stuff in his room (he had rented a single room).

After taking care of his luggage and masturbating in the shower, Hans felt clean and comfortable enough to go explore the city. He was also hungry, and needed to go grab some real food for lunch. He downloaded a map and a travel guide, and he also looked up places to eat on Google, but he ended up deciding to go grab some of the flyers he had seen earlier in the reception desk—hopefully he could also ask the handsome sizedivergent guy at the reception desk for some information as well, maybe even for some tips on nice places around the hostel.

Unfortunately, however, the guy was no longer there when Hans went to look for the maps—having been replaced by a short woman whose long hair was painted in two different colors. Hans then lost some time looking at the different flyers and maps available, some of which immediately picked his interest: “Sizedivergent São Paulo,” “Rainbow Sampa” and “No size fits all Xperience SP” were the ones which particularly grabbed his attention.

The first one, “Sizedivergent São Paulo,” was a map of São Paulo pointing out tours, museums and other places of interest for people who wanted to know more about the life of sizedivergent people in São Paulo—the cover had a normal-sized men and a sizedivergent man hugging each other and walking in front of some main tourist spots in the city. The second, “Rainbow São Paulo,” was aimed at the LGBTQ+ crowd, and showed a huge pride flag being held by a group of six or seven people, including one sizedivergent man and one sizedivergent woman. But the one Hans ended up picking up was the third, “No size fits all Xperience,” a small guidebook including a map to help navigate the sizedivergent culture, history and present of São Paulo—its cover had two sizedivergent dudes with their cocks erect pushed by their hands to the side, forming the shape of an X. Behind them stood several landmarks of the city.

“So, you are interested in sizedivergent culture?” said a deep male voice behind Hans, taking him by surprise and almost making him jump in place. It was the reception guy, standing near him, with a kind smile. Now that he was standing, rather than sitting behind the desk, Hans noticed just how tall he was—probably around 260cm. He also noticed just how big his upper muscles were, considering that the guy’s pecs not only reached well above Hans’s face, but they also cast a shadow over his head as the reception staffer approached him.

“Ah, yeah, yes. I am very interested in that, it is very interesting to me,” said Hans, a bit awkwardly. His eyes focused on the other man’s handsome face, and then down on his pecs barely hidden under his tight shirt. Hans could swear he saw the outline of the guy’s nipples, pointing down and outwards from his muscular pectorals.

The Brazilian dude, meanwhile, took the booklet Hans was holding from his hand and opened it with his two large arms, revealing a double page where one could see a map. This movement stretched his shirt and almost made Hans’s heart skip a beat—he did forget to breath for a second, though. The guy, without missing a second, swiftly put the wide map on the reception desk near them, and took a pen.

“Perfect!” he said, and then he put his hand on the open booklet, holding it in place. His muscles bulged as he did so, which further attracted Hans’s attention. “So, let me share some little secrets with you,” he completed with a smirk. “This,” he said, circling one place in the map, “is the National Museum of Sizedivergence. I highly recommend it if you are interested in sizedivergent history and culture. And this,” he circled another place—a large stadium in a park—”is the Sizedivergent Sports Arena, which is great if you are interested in sizedivergent sports as they are always holding activities there. These,” he circles about half a dozen spots near the hostel, “are sizedivergent coffee shops and bars. The ones with an M have male waiters, and the ones with F have female waiters. It can be an interesting experience to visit those. Although they are more of a treat to the eye than a real cultural experience, they do offer special dishes.”

The lad then looked back towards Hans and, seeing that he was eyeing his own large ass, he smiled and circled another three places on the map.

“And, finally, these are another kind of sizedivergent bars, in case you are more interested in meeting than being served by some of us,” he completed, and then took the pen and put it aside, taking the open booklet and handing it back to Hans. “There are many other related places and activities too, like a sizedivergent group presenting a dance show at the Municipal Theater, but I think I’ve given you enough to think about for now,” he finished, smiling.

“Oh, thanks. That’s… a lot. And it’s great! I’ll be sure to check it out!” Hans replied, taking the material. He felt a bit overwhelmed—both by the amount of things and by the close proximity to the other man’s body—but he was also very happy to have this information and that he was seeing the receptionist’s pecs and arms now so close to him.

The receptionist then smiled once more, and, raising his arm and extending it past Hans, he took a few flyers from the table which were behind the smaller man. This motion, while natural and sensible, made his pectorals jut forward, which meant that they almost touched Hans’s face and came so close to his nose and mouth that the receptionist literally felt the hot hair exhaled by the tourist’s breathing against his skin. In turn, when Hans—who lost his breath over the man’s movement—finally breathed in, his lungs were filled by the other man’s powerful scent.

“You might also be interested in these,” said the receptionist, now extending to Hans the flyers he had just taken from the desk. “These are some walking tours centered around sizedivergent culture and history. Oh, but don’t worry! They are open to everyone, and these particular ones are offered in English as well as Portuguese. We are a very welcoming community and love to see other people interested in ourselves,” he completed with a smile.

“Ah, ahahaha, I see,” responded Hans, absolutely overwhelmed. And so the smiley receptionist decided to leave him alone with his hardon, going back behind the desk to talk to the woman with the multicolored hair. While Hans slowly left the reception room to go outside, they started talking to one another. Hans would not really hear or understand their conversation, as he mindlessly walked out of the building pretty quickly, but it went a little bit like this:

“You are an angel, aren’t you, Marcos?” said the woman with the multicolored hair in Portuguese, her commented dripping with sarcasm. “As soon as a nice blond and blue-eyed gringo appears and takes a glance at the flyers on sizedivergence you strategically placed closest to the phone, you intervene and list them half the places where they can end up drenched in cum around here.”

Marcos laughed, his pecs going up and down, back and forth as he did so.

“I like to be helpful,” he said, with a smirk, “You know me Eliza, I like to give them what they want.” She rolled her eyes at the comment, but she was actually smiling as he passed behind her and his big ass arms rubbed against her back due to a sheer lack of space.

“Going back to lunch, already? I thought you had finished eating already and were coming back to help me at the front desk,” she teased him. He looked back towards her and pouted.

“Oh, poor Eliza. So sad that she’ll have to work the lunch shift and welcome the ten Russians who are scheduled to arrive at 12:45. I’ll pray for you,” he mocked, before disappearing behind the door to the staff’s room, leaving her alone at the reception desk. Eliza laughed a bit bitterly at his mockery, before sighing and going back to her work in the computer. She at least hopped one of the Russians could communicate in English this time—or, at least, communicate with her English.

Hans had lunch and, having checked that he had already missed the time to join one of the walking tours, he decided to visit the National Museum of Sizedivergence. He walked to the square where it was located—in his way there he ogled many of the sizedivergent men in suits walking around downtown, even if he tried not to look too hard at them. He particularly noticed a sizedivergent man talking on a cellphone while sitting on a bench, his bulge so close to touching the ground bellow that it almost bothered him, especially as it moved up and down as he talked. Another one who attracted his attention was a large man who was eating a hamburger with his left hand while walking, because he had to use his right hand to push his throbbing erection (barely hidden under his cocksleeve) to the side.

After getting a little bit lost in the streets of São Paulo, Hans did finally find the large brutalist-style building of the museum—he crossed the square in front of it, seeing several groups of normal-sized and sizedivergent people hanging around the area—some were skating, some were eating as they sat in a circle, others just were talking and having fun. Hans did spend a moment watching the sizedivergent skateboarders doing maneuvers with their erect cocks tied to their torso in order to keep their center of gravity stable. Soon, however, he went to the ticket office and purchased a day pass for the museum, and ended up deciding to wait a few minutes for a guided tour instead of exploring the large space by himself.

A small group formed as other people arrived and waited to join the same tour as Hans: three women, five men—two of whom were sizedivergent men—and himself. Looking at them, they seemed to have come in four groups: the two sizedivergent men were talking to one of the normal-sized women and one of the normal-sized men; there was also a straight couple which appeared to be from Argentina, and the other man and woman seemed to be by themselves.

While he waited, Hans kept glancing at the sizedivergent guys, who were laughing and smiling as they spoke in English to their two normal-sized fellows. He eventually got approached by the normal-sized man who was alone, however, and they ended up starting a conversation where they both revealed their interest in sizedivergence, and also that they both had chosen to come to Brazil in part due to that.

“Where I am from, in Hong Kong, there are very few sizedivergent people. It is weird that, when you look down at the numbers, it all seems to revolve around Brazil—and even in Brazil, it sizedivergency seems centered in São Paulo. It is so random that it is almost like magic,” said the other guy, who introduced himself as Wang Haoran. Hans actually laughed at his remark.

“It’s really odd—the regions of Germany that sent more immigrants to Brazil back in the days coincidentally do have a higher rate of sizedivergence. But, I mean, it’s more likely that people who were larger chose to go to Brazil in a larger proportion than that people whose descendants would go to Brazil had evolved to be larger in the first place, right?” Hans joked, and Wang Haoran smiled in agreement.

“So, how long have you been in Brazil?” Haoran asked, and Hans sighed.

“Only a few hours. This is the first place I actually visit here, you?” he replied, before Haoran’s face brightened in excitement.

“Wow, really? I have been here for a week at least and it has been great. You have to try this place… it’s a coffee shop, really close to here. They offer a varied selection of male tit milk—it can be a little expensive, but they have like 3-day-no-cum and even 1-week-no-cum milk, which is like extremally thick and the taste is super strong,” Haoran said, before lowering his voice a little. “They’ll even let you milk them yourself, it’s super hot,” Haoran said, and then he blushed, before correcting himself, “Oh… I mean, the milk comes out super-hot from their pecs, not that it is, hmmmm, hot to milk them. Sorry for that, it’s just that English isn’t my first language.”

Hans’s mouth got dry thinking of what Haoran had said, and he suddenly imagined himself not only stroking a large pec and milking a man’s nipple, but actually suckling from it. Regardless, Hans didn’t want to reveal his true feelings out loud, so he just laughed it off.

After a few minutes, they were all called by the English-language guide, who was a 270-plus centimeters tall dark-skinned man. He was wearing the museum’s uniform, which fit him very tightly, and he made them form a circle more or less around him.

“Hello everyone,” he said, with a smile, “Welcome to the National Museum of Sizedivergence. My name is Carlos and I’ll be guiding you today. I see we are in… seven, eight, nine! And two of you are sizedivergent too! If you guys don’t mind, please introduce yourselves and tell us if this is your first time coming to our museum?” Carlos asked, looking to everyone and no one in particular.

The first to answer was one of the sizedivergent men. The shorter one, who also had the largest bulge:

“Hello, I’m Júlio from Brazil and I’m here with Paulo, John and my girlfriend, Hannah. Paulo and I live here in São Paulo and we just wanted to show our foreign friends a little bit more of our culture,” he explained, pointing to one of the girls and one of the normal-sized men closer to them as he spoke. Carlos nodded, and as he did so his bulge bounced up and down.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” added the other, larger sizedivergent guy, who was also more muscular and whose bulge seemed a little more tightly held. Unlike his friend, who kept his soft dick snaking around his balls, Paulo kept his in a denim cocksleeve which matched his pants and at the moment laid on top of his balls.

“Great!” Carlos exclaimed. “What about the rest of you?” he asked, now basically looking at Hans. Before Hans could say anything, however, Haoran interjected and introduced himself, after which Hans and the other did the same. After all introductions, Carlos called the group to move to another space and started moving, walking ahead of the rest of them as they followed him into the first exposition.

“So, welcome everyone, our tour takes about two hours in total and I hope you guys have fun during our visit. We will explore several sides of sizedivergence today: culture, history, biology, and society. There is a little bit for everyone here, including immersive experiences for those who want to partake in those kinds of activities. But before that, are there any of these topics you guys are particularly interested on?” he asked, and one hand stood up.

It was one of the two larger sizedivergent men in our group, Paulo.

“Biology, definitely,” he responded, and everyone laughed, even if Hans blushed. Haoran, who was right next to Hans, moistened his dry lips with his tongue. Carlos smiled.

“That is certainly one of the most popular parts of our tour!” he said, and then we crossed into a large room filled with art featuring sizedivergent folks, “But first some history! Sizedivergence has existed ever since homo sapiens developed as a species. However, for reasons which science doesn’t fully understand, it became a more common trait in South America, Western Europe and Western Africa more or less independently, and it spread from those three regions to most of the rest of the world. That’s why these places have the largest concentrations of sizedivergent folks in the world, although there are also pockets of higher concentration of sizedivergency in Japan and Syria and a few other places. Brazil, coincidentally having received immigration waves from all regions of the world with the highest concentration of sizedivergents, ended up having the largest proportion and absolute number of sizedivergent people in the world—while for the whole world only 1 in every 35 people are sizedivergent, in Brazil that’s one in every 7; so, as it turns out, 30 million of the world’s 200 million sizedivergent people live in our country! As such, as we can see in these works of arts here, sizedivergence has been present in our culture since before the colonial era, and it has always been a mark of Brazil,” Carlos explained.

We then took time to appreciate some of the art pieces around us: a few particularly caught Hans’s eye.

One was a large full-body portrait of naked sizedivergent white man wearing in a veranda. His cock was hard, and precum dribbled from it—as it flowed down his cock, it was collected in a large bowl which was held by a normal-sized slave, who was wearing very simple clothes. Apparently, according to Carlos, penis size was considered by some to be a lowly trait associated with slaves and serfs, but was found by others to be useful in controlling those very same oppressed peoples.

Another painting showed a church, in front of which a family walked: the father ahead of them all. He was dressed in fancy clothing typical of the colonial times, including his cock which was soft and covered by a long cocksleeve. It was being carried by a pair of slaves behind him, so it wouldn’t ever touch the dirty ground. After that you saw the mother, who was completely covered in a dark Iberian-style dress. Then came the three children: one, the young master, was the tallest of them all. He was a fully developed adult, probably around 21 or 22, and he was dressing similarly to his father, only in lighter colors—his muscles bulged a lot more, though, and the fabric he wore had trouble containing all of him. His cock was also hard, and was only kept hidden due to a huge white sheet which seemed to stick to his wet cockhead. His balls almost dragged on the ground, but he wore a net bellow them which attached around his neck so they would hover above the dirt. Behind him there were two children—one boy and a girl, both dressed in typical clothes.

The third most impressive painting was called “white honey,” and it showed three Portuguese sailors fully naked, strapped by their wrists in the deck of a large Portuguese carrack—each one of them was more muscular than the next, and all nooks and crannies of their muscles were illuminated by the radiant sun above them. But what was really breath-taking was the size of their cocks and nuts, which varied in color between white, golden and purple—their angry veins seemingly close to bursting. Their rods were hard and angry, and seemed to point towards the observer even as they released large amounts of precum; in a sense, their slits were like Mona Lisa’s smile: you couldn’t run away from them no matter where you were in the room. Their balls, however, were immense and rested on the deck, between their equally large legs, which were wide open. The three sizedivergent sailors were each being milked by a pair of other normal-sized sailors, who were also naked and used their whole upper body to masturbate their immense lengths. At the same time, one other sailor was sucking from the right nipple of the largest of the sizedivergent men, whose mouth was contorted in pleasure.

“This is one of my favorite paintings in our collection,” said Carlos to me, “It shows sizedivergent men being milked during the era of Great Navigations. You know, some people think that because of our size we haven’t really partaken in the great endeavors of human history when we fact we were always there. One of the advantages the Spanish and Portuguese had when colonizing the Americas, for example, was using sizedivergent men as an extra source of fresh and nutritious drink, which allowed their sailors to be healthier than those of other countries. Of course, that’s just one example, but I think it is an illustrative one,” he completed.

Hans’s eyes moved from the painting towards that immense man right next to him, and for a second he just appreciated Carlos’s profile as he looked at the painting—noting, for example, how far ahead of his spine Carlos’s pecs went, and how meaty they were in comparison to his much tighter abs. In every sense, Carlos reminded Hans of one of the tree sailors in the picture: the one in the far left, whose thick lips were wide open—you could almost hear him crying in pleasure. Even as Hans was lost in his imagination, however, the world continued turning, and eventually Carlos turned to Hans and smiled, as he had caught him staring.

“Any questions?” the guide asked, and Hans barely listened, but Haoran, who was next to him, nodded.

“Oh, yes, and what about that picture?” he asked, pointing to the biggest painting hanging in that room, covering some 6x3 meters. It showed a huge crowd of people: in the right, there was an African court, including the King sitting on a large, elevated throne. In the left, one could see a smaller group of European men, led by a captain wearing full military armor who was kneeling bellow the African monarch. In the back, one could see the Portuguese carracks which had brought the Portuguese group to the kingdom of Congo.

“Ah, this is an interesting one,” said Carlos, walking between Hans and the large frame of the painting, “It shows the Portuguese sailor Vasco da Gama—you see him here, kneeling before the king of the Congo—stopping in Africa in his way to the Indies. You see he is kissing the King’s relaxed penis, which falls graciously from his throne, over his scrotum, until it barely touches this golden bowl at the bottom? That is him paying his respects to the King. Many people don’t know, but the Portuguese made several allies in Africa, including the Kingdom of the Congo, when in their way across the continent.”

Another one of the sizedivergent men in our group approached Hans, Haoran and Carlos, getting so close to the German man that he almost felt overshadowed by the two muscular studs around him.

“That’s interesting,” said the Paulo, the muscle stud. He had his right hand on his hip and his left hand adjusting his sizeable soft cock, which was at about the same height as Hans’s abs. “And who is this guy just behind the King? This one with his large penis basically fully erect and decorated with several colorful fabrics and golden cock rings?” he asked. Carlos looked again towards the large painting, identifying the figure—he was embarrassed to say, but under a first inspection he had mistaken the large hard black cock for a wooden pillar.

“Oh, well, that’s the King’s oldest son. He’d be maybe about 24 or 25 years old at this time. It was not costumery for other men to get a hardon in the presence of the King, but it was allowed and even expected of him, the heir to the throne, as a show of virility,” Carlos explained.

“I see. And would only Vasco da Gama kiss the King’s cock, or would his underlings also do it?” Haoran asked, and Carlos shook his head.

“Only Vasco da Gama. The King’s cock was something highly regarded, and as such even being demanded to kiss it was a sign of the King acknowledging Vasco da Gama as a nobleman, and therefore accepting the King of Portugal, who was the suzerain of the captain, as his own equal. If the sailors also did the same, then the King would be degrading himself to a lower level,” Carlos explained, before he and Paulo walked away to talk about other pieces.

Hans, meanwhile, couldn’t take his eyes off that scene for a while: Vasco da Gama kneeling and kissing the King’s royal rod. Squinting his eyes, he thought he could see a tongue there, extending past Vasco da Gama’s lips, going for the majestic noble red cockhead. Hans’s cock throbbed at the thought, before he moved on to the next part of the exhibition.


The group entered another part of the museum, this one more focused around the biology of sizedivergent people. In the center of the gallery, one could see an anatomically correct statue of a sizedivergent man and a sizedivergent women, both incredibly large: the man was a bit more than three and a half meters tall, while the woman was around three meters in height. According to the sign to the side of the statues, they represented two real people who had been particularly important in the history of studying sizedivergent anatomy.

“They were both very significant not only because they were large, but also because they were studied by doctor Josiel da Silva, who was himself half sizedivergent, and he documented their bodies in an extremally detailed fashion. These documents then made their way to Europe and were very foundational in sizedivergent medicine by laying the foundations of the notion that the sizedivergent body has to be studied on its own merit, rather than just as an extension of the normal-sized body. For example, look at the man’s soft penis. He’d never have enough blood in his body to get an erection, normally, and yet that happens all the time with sizedivergent men. Only after Josiel da Silva’s study did we understand that sizedivergent men’s penises get hard by diluting blood, which is unique amongst human males,” Carlos explained.

The sculptures in the center of the room did attract Hans’s attention, as he could go and touch them, and being so close to the reproduction of the perfect male form made him realize how puny he was next to a sizedivergent man—his waist was probably not only smaller than the sculpture’s arms and cock, but possibly smaller even than its neck! However, soon his attention moved towards a video playing in one corner of the room—it showed a muscular sizedivergent male laying with his torso on top of his hard cock, which itself rested on the floor. The man had his balls behind him, and his legs firmly planted on the floor.

The man stayed a few seconds in that position, apparently enjoying the smell and warmth of his hardon, but then, suddenly, he used his arms to try to hug his hardon (which he could do only partially). When he was satisfied by how much manhood he was embracing, he used his legs to move his whole body back and forwards, using his torso and the floor as the fulcrum with which to rub his length against.

After a few minutes of that going on, the man’s cock trembles and his balls contract—enormous amounts of semen then leave his cock’s mouth. The camera then moves to a bird’s-eye position, allowing the viewer to see how far each successive shot had landed from the meat missile-shaped organ. After that, the video records the distance of the first ten shots and adds them up, showing a total sum of over a kilometer and a half of “distance covered.” Then the camera changed again and showed a measure of the volume delivered: 367 liters. A text then appeared, in English, “While this is an above average production, it is by no means unusual. About 25% of sizedivergent men cum more than this specimen under the same conditions.” As the text disappeared, the “specimen” was panting on top of his own softening genitalia.

Hans’s cock was hard as he watched that, but soon he noticed that the dicks of the two sizedivergent men of their group were also getting chubbier. One, because he was looking at a similar video of a sizedivergent woman having her tits milked on the other side of the room; the other, because he was standing just behind Hans, watching the very same video as him.

Once he realized Hans’s eye had moved from the video towards him, the sizedivergent man coughed.

“I’m sorry, I might need to be drained soon,” Paulo said to Hans with a smile. Hans’s eyes opened up in surprise, but also delight. He had seen many videos of ubermen being drained, but he had never heard it being referred to in real life—that is, outside of the internet.

“Really? Do you do it often?” he asked, and the guy seemed to think for a while, before nodding.

“Twice a day, at least. Sometimes three times. But that’s because I’m not a big cummer, to be honest. Not in comparison to some of the other guys,” Paulo informed Hans, whose cock at this point was throbbing under his pants. Carlos then comes between them, and lets them know that there were facilities for people to relief themselves if need be.

“Although we don’t segregate by size here—if you want to be drained you can both take the hallway and go to the second room to the left,” said Carlos, pointing towards the way, “We won’t wait for you but you can catch up to us in the next part of the exhibit, which is the cultural section.”

Hans didn’t know very well what to do—he thought, obviously, that the draining room was for sizedivergent guys only. Surprisingly, however, once Carlos left him and Paulo by themselves once more (he went to explain something else to Haoran), Paulo smiled at Hans and said:

“So, do you want to go there? You are a foreigner, right? Given that and… your size, I imagine you don’t have much experience with other men being drained or with draining yourself, but I can show you how it works,” he said, and Hans spurted a sly smile.

“Oh, that’d be great. But wouldn’t your boyfriend disapprove of it?” he asked, pointing to John—the normal-sized guy who had come with Paulo, Hannah and Júlio. Paulo coughed.

“No, he is just a friend. And more of a friend of Hannah’s than of mine, anyway,” he said, moving his body away from Hans’s, but then finally looking directly at his face, even if it was lower than his pecs. “So, what do you say?” he offered once more.

Hans blinked—his palms got wet and he was nervous. But he was not about to waste what could be a once in a lifetime opportunity. And so, he nodded, and followed Paulo to the hallway and to the draining room. As he left the exposition on sizedivergent anatomy, he looked back to their group and only noticed Haoran’s side eying him and smiling, before he turned his face back forward, his vision concentrated on Paulo’s large ass which moved up and down, left and right in his pants—almost ripping them as he walked.

Hans entered the room after Paulo, and he could hardly see anything because Paulo’s huge frame occupied his whole field of vision. After he moved, however, Hans noticed that the draining room was quite similar to a regular public restroom: it was all covered in tiles, and it was also well lit; there were different stalls, some of which were occupied, and other which were empty; there were also other more public “cuminals,” where one could just drop their pants and insert their cocks into a self-cleaning automatic pumping machine for a quick draining—most of those were large, clearly fit for sizedivergent males, but a few were designed to be used by normal-sized men, certainly as a part of the museum’s immersive design.

“We should use the open pumps so I can check on you while you are being drained, as the stalls are just for sizedivergents,” informed Paulo to an overwhelmed Hans, whose eyes travelled around trying to absorb all they could.

Hans’s eyes followed the larger man as he walked towards the many draining holes in the wall, but suddenly it stopped as it saw another gigantic man being drained in one of those “cuminals.” Hans couldn’t see the man’s face, but he could see his pants lowered, his bubble butt completely exposed, as well as his balls which were laying on the ground, and his immense cock which was fucking the large machine attached within the wall in front of him. He moaned ever so silently, to try to keep decorum.

“Hey man,” said Paulo, his eyes now following Hans’s and then smiling, “Let’s go, I’ll give you a real show,” he said, with a smirk, and Hans couldn’t help but follow him towards the smaller drains which were on the far side of the room.

Being near the small normal-sized dick-pleasing machines, Hans noticed that it basically looked like a fancy automatic fleshlight, except it could also adjust for size automatically. Paulo looked down towards the machine, and touched a button right above it. Soon, warm water was dripping from the opening in the wall, and it was emitting a bright green light.

“These things are self-cleaning, they wash themselves after each use, but if you want to you can just press this button and they’ll wash themselves again. This is particularly useful because it makes the hole exquisitely warm and wet,” informed Paulo, then raising his eyebrows while looking to Hans, “So, how big is your cock, more or less? We need to adjust this thing for your size,” he asked, and Hans’s face turned bright red.

“I… I am about 27cm long,” he said, and Paulo then pressed another button until the number 27 appeared in front of a word in Portuguese.

“And circumference?” he then asked, and Hans didn’t know how to reply.

“I don’t really know,” said the German tourist, looking away, back into the other uberman who was fucking the wall. Paulo nodded and asked Hans to undress, to his surprise.

“We are going to see each other naked soon, anyways. I can help you get a measurement for your circumference, I’m good with those things,” said Paulo, and, as if to land that point more solidly, the guy who was being drained in the other “cuminal” moaned loudly and delivered his load right in that moment.

Feeling inspired, Hans inhaled and dropped his pants at once, and then his underwear also fell, revealing his nice and fully hard central European cock, his lime-sized balls, and his dirty-blond bush. Paulo’s hand then traveled south, and held the foreigner’s cock in a tight grip.

“Nice thick cock you’ve got down there,” said the gigantic wall of a man whose powerful hand was now holding Hans’s cock tightly, almost squeezing it. “I think that’s 20cm in circumference, give or take 1 centimeter ,” he then affirmed, giving Hans’s hardon a final stroke before letting go of it and pressing other buttons on the wall.

Hans was surprised, and overwhelmed, by Paulo’s behavior—having someone grab his cock like that, so nonchalantly, to… to measure it, was a huge cultural shock! His cock had already been throbbing before, but after experiencing Paulo’s touch it was now producing small droplets of precum, and what he wanted above all was to beat it here and now, to release his cum from his pitifully loaded balls—meanwhile, that immense guy who had just cum and was putting his clothes back on, lifting his satisfied balls from the ground and putting them in the hammock he used to keep them above ground; that’s what a real pair of male testicles should look like.

“It’s set, you can insert your penis in now. You’ll see how nice it is,” says Paulo, then taking his two longest fingers and putting them in the Hans’s cock-sized opening in the wall, “Nice and cozy,” he said, while taking his fingers (now wet), out of the machine.

Hans, moved by his passion and lust, gathered his courage to plunge his hard cock into the unknown machine. He stopped for a second, with his head just touching it but without pressuring forward, and looked back up towards Paulo, who smiled at him with a reassuring attitude. That was enough for Hans, and he pushed his dick in using his leg muscles—as soon as his head entered the machine, Hans melted in delight. The environment was so perfect for his cock—wet, slimy, and yet resistant and hard; it was like decades of research on how to please a man had gone into that small machine. He moaned, as a compliment to the engineers who had made that wonderful of a creation.

“Hmmmmmm, ahh!” he voiced, as he pushed all the way in, and then he grunted, “Ahhhrrrr! Fuuuuck!” as the machine started pumping his cock raw. Almost automatically, the German lad responded by pulling out, but before the head of his member left the delicious system, he pushed back in and started to pound the mechanical hole which crushed his rod—while his balls battered against the wall repeatedly.

“I knew it, you are a natural!” said Paulo, looking at the German lad’s body inundated by increasing amounts of delight which were expressed on his face, as well as by the droplets of sweat all over his body, “Maybe I should join you too,” he said, and then started removing his clothes, until he was fully naked.

Hans continues panting and fucking the wall as that happened, which made Paulo progressively harder as he watched and heard the little German lose himself in sexual awe. Suddenly, however, Paulo noticed the lad was not plunging his dick as completely into the machine as he could have—he always seemed to leave a few centimeters outside, as if he feared what would happen to his mind were he to go in too deep. Paulo smiled as he saw that, turned around and, with a helpful proactivity, said, “Here, it’s nicer if you go really close to the wall.” At the same time, he took a step closer to Hans, and merely due to his size, he pressed the smaller man forward—fully trapping Hans between the wall and Paulo’s own immense muscles, balls, and hardening cock.

Paulo, for a second, hardly noticed his that muscles had enveloped the German fucker. He felt the pressure of his legs, cock and the ground on his balls, and the pressure of the ground, his balls, and the wall on his cock—next to that, the small German lad was almost insignificant. But Hans noticed everything—obviously: suddenly, his ass was rising as an immense cock traversed between his legs and forced his rear upwards, making his pounding of the wall that much more difficult. At the same time, Hans’s head was forced down, due to massive pecs coming their way and nesting Hans’s head in; to the side, the German lad’s body was contained by two immense arms, each thicker than his waist, which seemed to look for him.

“There you are!” said Paulo, as his hands found Hans’s body, despite not seeing him. Pedro’s hands then pushed Hans forward and against the wall—the European cock then invading the machine all the way to the root, in one sudden move. Hans moaned violently, especially as his balls were crushed between the wall and the enormous penis bellow him, “It’s nice, isn’t it?” Paulo commented with a smile, and Hans could barely reply, as he focused his energy on pounding the hole, using Paulo’s growing cock as a support for his horny movements.

“Oh,” said Paulo, finally realizing just how much he was crushing the foreign lad, “Should I move?” he asked, a little concerned for the tiny gringo, already bringing his hands away as to give the slutty German more breathing room. However, that’s not what Hans’s wanted—not by a mile.

“No, oooohhhhh, no,” he said, between panting and grunting, feeling his cock being milked by the small machine while a much larger python woke up bellow his ass, “Keep it like this, I’ll help you later on too, please… so tight all over, hmmmm,” he requested, feeling the lovely warmth and human touch of Paulo’s muscles inundating him from almost all sides. Paulo smirked and conceded, nodding—but of course, Hans, from the inside of his muscle prison, didn’t see that.


Pressed between a wall and hard muscles while having his cock milked by a machine felt great—frankly, even more than great, it was overwhelming. Hans couldn’t take it for too long and soon he was coming all over—all his juices being sucked diligently by the draining system, and soon the machine had stopped skinning his softening rod. Even then, though, Hans couldn’t pull out of the hole in the wall as he was still contained by Paulo’s strong muscles.

“Everything all right down there?” asked the larger man, once he noticed Hans wasn’t moved and rubbing against him anymore, “Have you cum?” he asked, and Hans replied with a positive “humhmmm.”

Paulo then took two steps back, giving Hans some space to breathe. The lad’s tired body then slowly collapsed on top of Paulo’s large muscles, his head resting on the larger man’s abs, his butt still firmly sitting on top of Paulo’s hardening cock. Above him, he saw not the ceiling, but the underside of Paulo’s hot pecs, including his two plump nipples.

“Hmmmm,” said the German lad, in post-orgasmic bliss, “That was really something else…,” he commented, a little exhausted. Soon, however, he realized what he was laying against, and smelled the scent of sex in the air mixed with the smell of his own orgasm, and smiled. Hans then turned around and, still sitting on Paulo’s cock, looked the larger man on the face. “So, do you want to get drained too?” he asked, and Paulo looked around, towards the empty size-divergent-fit draining machine just next to them.

“Yes, that’d be nice. Maybe it would be interesting for you to see a real size-divergent man being drained life, wouldn’t it?” Paulo asked, and Hans nodded violently. He then got off Paulo’s cock and gave Paulo space to move his hardon around. The larger man used his muscles to manhandle his cock towards the other much larger hole in the wall, which he had already adjusted for his stats—and then, slowly, he pushed his longness into it, moaning as it penetrated deeper into the warm machine.

“Wow,” said, Hans, looking from less than a meter away. From his vantage point, he saw Paulo’s naked muscles contracting as he pushed into the tight hole—specially his large ass, contracted and then relaxed, and then contracted again. His balls dragged on the floor as he moved, and Paulo eventually used his legs to reposition them more comfortably. “Do you need any help?” asked Hans, and Paulo shook his head.

“Not really,” he said, as his dick continued to disappear inside the wall; now less than 30 centimeters were still outside. Paulo bit his lips as the tightness of the hole overwhelmed his senses, “But… for you to better experience sizedivergent culture, maybe you should get a more privileged seat to watch this?” he propositioned, and then his hands moved to pat the 30 or so centimeters of his cock still visible to Hans. The German lad’s eyes shone with the idea, and he agreed immediately, climbing on top of the large meat rod and sitting once again between Paulo’s muscles and the wall—except this time he had his back against the wall, and decided to algo hug Paulo’s muscular torso for better stability.

“Perfect,” said Paulo, really liking the feeling of having his torso enveloped by Hans’s warm and tight arms, but especially enjoying having the European-made pecs rubbing against his abs and his long legs around his shaft. “Now hold tight,” said the Brazilian man, leading to Hans’s hold on his torso to become even tighter. Almost immediately after that, Paulo started to pound the wall—he took a meter of his cock out of it, and then plunged it back in again; his motion was so sudden and so violent that Hans’s whole body shook, and his hair flowed all around. If he hadn’t been holding tight against Paulo’s torso, he’d surely have fallen to the ground and been crushed by the larger man’s immense balls as he fucked the machine.

And the hammering continued, making Paulo moan in pleasure and eventually getting Hans hard once more—his hardon tightly pressed between his abs and the much tighter abs he was hugging. Paulo hammered his cock so deep into the machine that almost every time he pushed in Hans’s back was hitting the wall with a sudden impact, and that was making his back and bubbly butt become redder and more sensitive at each successive round—not that he was complaining, as being pushed against the wall meant being forced into an even tighter contact with Paulo’s muscles at the very same time, which he greatly appreciated.

As the fucking of the wall continued, and as Paulo groaned, Hans looked up to the beautiful pecs above his head, finding both nice juicy nipples at a relative reasonable distance from his mouth. With some effort, he moved his neck and head as to try to reach one of them, and he managed to get lips near enough to one of them that taking his tongue out he could lick it. Paulo seemed to enjoy that, and so he used his unoccupied hands to press his pecs from the sides, making them bulge forward and down, while he continued fucking the wall. This movement was enough to bring his nipples much closer to the hungry and horny German, allowing him to fully take one of them into his mouth—which he immediately started sucking. Soon, in complement to that, Paulo’s hands were fully stroking his pecs, and no longer just forcing them together to provide Hans with easier access to his nipples.

This procedure went on for a while, until the Brazilian man decided to shorten the length and increase the speed of his wall fucking, which made Hans’s position more precarious—now he was being violently hammered against the wall four or five times every ten second, and was crying in painful delight as his face was crushed into Paulo’s pecs and abs every time. His body had never felt so much pain and so much delight at once. This combination brought him close to nirvana; he could feel the understanding of Marxist dialectics close to his grasp—would his second orgasm of the hour be the synthesis of ache and glee? Indeed, Hans’s cock had become hard again and by now, rubbing against Paulo’s ripped abdominal muscle, it was getting the German lad close to orgasming once again—and, judging by Paulo’s continuous stream of sexy grunts, he was close to finishing as well.

Less used to this type of stimulation, Hans came first, coating Paulo’s abs in his juices, and being so overflown by pleasure that his arms lost some of the tightness of their hold on the larger man’s torso. As Paulo continued fucking the tight hole in the wall violently, however, that made Hans almost lose his stability entirely and the smaller man came close to falling from the humongous cock—that was only prevented because by then his thighs and calves were also tightly hugging Paulo’s body, except they embraced his cock, rather than his torso. Hans’s second orgasm had been violent and loud, and it had attracted the judgmental looks of the two other sizedivergent dudes in the draining room at the time: one, a large Asian-looking man who was undressing himself, seemed amused by the spectacle and by the foreigner’s appreciation of size-divergent culture and practices, while the other, a thin but well-endowed brown man in his 30s seemed a little annoyed at this breach of “draining room etiquette,” even if it came from a normal-sized foreigner.

Paulo came soon afterwards, managing to contain his orgasmic cry, unlike Hans, as he was used to using public draining rooms. His juices were drained by the machine, and when the liquids finally stopped flowing, Paulo pulled his dick from the hole in the wall and used his mighty arms to raise Hans from his softening rod and place him once again on the solid ground of the room.

“I hope you found this experience enlightening,” said the larger man, with a smile, the head of his penis still contained inside of the draining machine, a bit more than a meter away.

“Damn,” said Hans, at a loss of words. All his effort went into keeping his legs straight, at not falling due to overwhelming sexual exhaustion. “I think I get a new appreciation of sizedivergent culture. It really is different when you experience it first-hand.”

Before leaving the museum, Haoran came to Hans and asked him if he wanted to join him for the afternoon, as Haoran was going to this sizedivergent coffee shop, and later was planning on going to watch a free sporting event at the Sizedivergent Sports Arena. Hans didn’t really have other plans for the day, and he liked the idea of watching some of the best sizidivergent wrestlers from the Brazilian league competing, and so he accepted Haoran’s invitation and the two of them left the museum together, chatting about their recent experience.

“What was your favorite part of the exhibition?” asked Hans, as they went up and down the streets of downtown São Paulo.

Haoran thought for a little and then smiled. “Well, you didn’t see it that well because you were getting some hands-on experience when our group went through the biology section, but they have a pretty cool display there! There’s this section where they employ studs of different sizes which they keep on a platform, edging in different ways, to show the audience their muscles bulging and their cocks in their full glory. We can’t touch them, but we can see them cum when they eventually do, and one is allowed to every 15 minutes. As they edge there for around two hours, it’s quite an amazing sight. Honestly, watching them there was a bit much to me and I had to go to the toilet myself,” said the Chinese man, his cock once more visibly hard under his shorts. Hans licked his lips thinking of the image Haoran was describing, as he didn’t really get to see that section of the museum that well.

“That’s really amazing,” said Hans, dreamily. Haoran laughed.

“Well, not quite as nice as your favorite part of the museum, I guess,” replied Haoran, teasingly, and Hans blushed a little and coughed. Distracted, he ended up bumping against the cock of a hard, large sizedivergent man who was walking down the street in the opposite direction. They both apologized and then Hans went back towards Haoran, who had been waiting for him a little ahead, looking at the sizedivergent men’s glutes as he went away—his ass strong from having to carry all that cock and all those balls.

“We are almost there,” said Haoran, his dick throbbing, demanding release as much as Hans’s, both as a hopeful prayer and as a statement of fact.


As Haoran and Hans walked in downtown São Paulo, they passed through a large square where some university students had set up a make-shift runway with a large tent set up on one side functioning as a backstage. The young men were only mildly curious about the event—far thirstier for some pecmilk and cum-based drinks which they would be tasting later on—but they glanced over the crowd watching the small fashion show. The crowd was comprised of people from all walks of life: some businessmen had stopped with their suits stretched by enormous muscles; there were also blue-collar and white-collar workers whose cocks filled their clothes as their second collar wrapped around their large erections just under the head; and even some younger college-age students who had their cocks and balls arranged in the typical fashion—either inside a cocksleeve and tied to their torsos, or just laying lazily around their balls, either in a cocksleeve or, as was more common, compressed in a gigantic bulge by their underwear and pants. As diverse as it was, however, the crowd watching the fashion show was exclusively comprised of sizedivergent folks, and that obviously made Haoran’s and Hans’s glaze linger a little longer than they had expected.

The two tourists observed the crowd for a minute of more, eating their long cocks with their eyes, and watching as some of their members were getting engorged—one college student had his cock tied around his torso, but it was now becoming large enough to reach his shoulder as it snaked its way up, until it suddenly started drooling precum on his well-developed muscles. He noticed it and simply patted his cockhead and squeezed it a little, but one of his friends took it from his hand and then started drinking from it as they talked, licking the slit to get all the hot pre in his mouth. At the same time, one of the white-collar workers had his cock become a large bouncy tower, covered only by his white company-branded cocksleeve, which was stretching thinly around it.

Hans’s eyes then followed the crowd’s gaze, and noticed the fashion show itself: the models were a bunch of handsome, large and differently colored sizedivergent college students who were wearing their cocks in every different way imaginable, as well as some fantastically created clothes which accentuated their muscles, ass, legs and arms. A white 2,7m tall muscular man walked in front of the crowd, his cock erect, around which were tied several plants whose leaves were getting stuck to his precum drenched shaft, as it fed the plants themselves with nutritious juice. Next, it was a black man, slightly shorter but more muscular, wobbling down the runway as his cock bobbed up and down, naked except for one big transparent plastic cocksleeve which was way too small for his purple rod. The head, above, seemed to be tortures as his shaft was squeezed, and his balls sometimes brushed on his wobbling muscles as the lad paraded his style down the runnway.

Hans literally gasped seeing the public display of barely dressed models like that, and Haoran was drooling a little and had almost forgotten to breathe in for a second, before exclaiming:

“My God, that’s so bold!” he said, his cock twitching in his shorts, his eyes not even blinking as the next model came along—this one, very tanned, had his soft cock wrapped around his torso like an anaconda, his shaft brushing against his arms as he walked, while his balls were kept in place by a hugely oversized suspender which wrapped under each of them.

“Yes, they are really edgy this year. Usually, they focus more on how one can cover one’s body than on how to display it, but I guess the current political tensions have spilled into their fashion and they wanted to be shocking,” said a businessman near them in English, noticing the two young tourists. He smiled at Hans and Haoran and turned around, revealing his handsome 40-something face and a relatively well-hidden sizedivergent bulge bellow his belt. His muscles were fantastic and he was well above 220cm in height, but next to the crowd around them and the models parading their creations, he seemed almost normal and his cock was definitely well-behaved by comparison.

“Yeah,” said Hans, almost ignoring the large businessman talking to him, as the next model walked in—he was a handsome mixed-race man, part Asian, part white, part black, whose cock was hidden under a thin silk veil which stuck to it basically because the very top was drenched in precum, “Hardly veiled,” he completed, slowly.

Meanwhile, Haoran looked away almost immediately, preferring to ogle the barely contained muscles of the smaller, but more approachable businessman.

“Ah, a cock veil,” laughed the businessman, seeing the next piece of clothing. “Probably some sort of political statement, I guess,” he shrugged, before turning back to the foreign young men.

“You mean they do this every year?” asks Haoran, and the man nodded.

“This fashion show? Yes, it’s an annual event by the fashion department of USP. They do it downtown because it attracts more attention. There’s a show for normal-sized fashion as well, but I think its tomorrow, I am not really sure,” said the man, and then he smiled and scratched his chin, his arm bulging under the tight suit. He then laughed, “So where are you two from?” he asked.

“Oh, I am from Taiwan,” said Haoran, and then he used his elbow to hit Hans and attract his attention to their small conversation, “Hey where are you from again?” he asked. Hans swallowed all his excess saliva from watching the fashion show, and finally concentrated on their small debate.

“Oh, Germany. I’m from Germany. Nice to meet you,” he said then directing his eyes towards the hot businessman talking to them. His frame was almost big enough to fill their field of vision, and soon Hans was captivated by the suit which seemed to hug each and every of the larger man’s tight muscles.

“Oh, so you two… aren’t together?” the man asked, actually a bit surprised, and Haoran laughs.

“No, we just met each other in the National Museum of Sizedivergence a few hours ago and have been hanging together since because we share… interests,” said the Chinese tourist, and Hans nodded. The businessman looked them up and down and then smiled.

“I see, I’m sorry for assuming you two were gay,” he said, and Haoran and Hans look at each other a bit embarrassed.

“Oh, but I am gay,” said Haoran, interrupting him.

“Hmmm, me too. Just not together,” said Hans, feeling his skin burning in embarrassment, and the businessman nods.

“Oh, I see, I see, perfect,” he then takes two business cards from his pocket—his arms bulge a lot and his hand struggles to enter his pocket due to the thickness of his leg muscles, but he manages to do it—and hands them to the lads. “You see, I work for a company called ‘Menmac’, and we develop products to help the milking and draining of sizedivergent men. Of course, our products are adapted for our sizes, but, you see, there are parts of the sizedivergent body which greatly resemble those of a normal-sized man, and as such we have been trying to market some of our products for them as well, especially in the international markets. So, if you want to come and try some of our products and give us a review, I’d appreciate that a lot,” he said.

Each one of the younger foreigners takes one of the business cards. It had the company name, the businessman’s full info—his first name was Antônio—and an address.

“We are open from 8 a.m. to 7 p.m. at this address, if you want to visit us. We have all our products available for a test fuck,” he then completed, and the lads turned the cards around where they saw the image of a large sizedivergent man having his cock drained and his ass pierced by the same machine.

“That’s… quite a proposition,” said Haoran, surprised at what he was seeing and where that was taking his mind.

“You have a machine like this for normal-sized men?” asked Hans, pointing to the verse of the business card in his hand. Antônio smiled.

“Of course. We even have a special model where both the ass-fucking end and the cock-draining end are revested by a muscle-simulating cover, so you can experience being completely pressured on all sides as you are pleased by our products. After all, as it said there bellow the image, we are the number one company in machines design to pleasure males,” he responds, proud. The lads eye one another once more and Haoran licks his lips as his cock throbs again.

“Thank you for this. I’ll have to ask you later about your delivery policy,” said the young Taiwanese. Antônio smiled.

“Come check our product yourself and we can discuss this at the office,” he responded, and soon the two lads parted ways with the man, who continued watching the fashion show, as they went to the coffee shop Haoran had told Hans about earlier.


Hans and Haoran entered the popular café Leite do Conde, which was surprisingly frequented by a very diverse crowd that included hipsters, businessmen, tourists, rockers and artists—they were occupying the large hall which was decorated with objects reminiscent of the 1920s and 30s, and in between them circulated waiters bringing large jugs of some kind of alcoholic beverage. The waiters themselves were also extremely large, of course, as could carry many mugs as once using the thickness of their arms as trays.

“Oh,” said Haoran, a bit confused, “This is a different vibe from when I came here yesterday,” he said, and then he looked at the menu and read the subtitles in English. As he read the text, understanding replaced confusion on his mind, and he showed Hans the menu.

The menu had the name of the café in large letters on the top center, and bellow it a waiter whose muscles were barely contained by his uniform, while his apron did nothing to hide the breadth of his torso; he was carrying several jugs of alcohols of different colors, and they were being filled by a gigantic dong which extended from outside the page and drooled pre into them. In the middle of the cover of the menu there were some words in Portuguese and bellow, some explanation in English: “Friday from 2-7 p.m.—melocum at half-price, all flavors except pecmilk.”

Reading it, Hans took the menu and opened it, seeing the several dozen flavors of melocum they offered: several berries, sugarcane, pecmilk, even orange and cocoa. Basically, if you could mix an alcohol with something, they had melocum in that flavor. Honestly, though, Hans had to admit that each one sounded more delicious than the last.

“Do you know what this melocum thing is, though?” asked Haoran, a bit confused. He had never really heard that word before, apparently, but the subtext of the menu was pretty clear in that it had something to do with sizedivergent cock. Hans literally licked his lips as he heard that question: he loved drinking melocum, although it was a bit expensive back home. The prices here were maybe half as much as what he’d pay in Germany in a good day, even before considering the Friday afternoon discount.

“Oh… melocum, you know? It’s like mead but made with male precum, then you can flavor it with fruits or not, depending on your taste. My favorite is the natural flavor, but they all taste amazing and are ridiculously energetic. Should we get a seat?” asked Hans, really excited, and already moving towards an empty table, passing in between the large sizedivergent people moving around and rubbing on some as them as he did.

Haoran got a bit excited after the explanation and followed him—he had thought that coffee spiked with pecmilk was the craziest thing he’d drink during this trip, but apparently, he was very incorrect. As the young men ordered and started tasting their first glasses—they were all delicious and Haoran was immediately hooked—a table a few meters away started shouting and competing to see which of their four enormous muscular studs could drink more and faster.

Soon, one of them shouted something to the waiter in Portuguese, and a few moments latter everyone was looking towards them as the waiter brought four enormous cock-shaped glasses full to the head with melocum—the slit, a pretty large one at that, being the only opening through which the glasses could be filled or emptied. The four cock-like jugs were put on the table, and each lad got theirs. They shouted in Portuguese and teased each other as Haoran and Hans watched, hypnotized. The waiter then stepped back and stood on the side with a chronometer.

One man touched the other in his enormous, thick and uncovered arms, making his mate shudder. The other slapped his ass, making him laugh. Soon one of the studs was standing, away from the table, and holding his jug which he raised in a challenge to his friends. His friends then stand as well and go around him—now the four are standing in a circle, facing each other. Their junks are all squeezed together inside their small circle walled by their gigantic muscular bodies. The taller of them was 2.4m tall, the shorter, less than 20cm smaller. They were all in the spring of their youth, muscles hard, balls full, stomach empty. They started chanting a song, excited, and the whole crowd was looking at them and cheering them on. Then suddenly all the lads turned their cock-shaped mugs and took their slits in their mouth and started suckling the melocum from inside the mugs, as the crowd chanted and cheered and the waiter turned on the chronometer.

Hans and Haoran joined with the crowd, despite not fully understanding what was happening—of course they realized it was a sort of dare or challenge, but they didn’t know the words being chanted and so were unaware of any consequences or stakes. They clapped and picked their winners: Haoran was rooting for the shorter brown-skinned dude whose ass was so large his friends couldn’t help but rub it earlier; meanwhile, Hans had chosen the taller tanned man who had stood up first, and against whose bulge the other lads had coalesced and eventually started rubbing their junks as they drank more and more alcohol.

The cheering went on. Hans and Haoran were hypnotized by the men suckling and sucking the alcohol from inside the dick-shaped mugs. They wanted to do so themselves, and as Haoran picked his own glass to drink some melocum to finally get something liquid in his mouth, Hans simply licked his lips as he watched. And after much cheering, the first of the lads put his mug down—it was another competitor, a bulkier dude whose muscles were so large he had had a hard time positioning his cock-like mug in the right way. But the truth is he sucked the mug dry masterfully and ended up emptying it a whole second faster than the second place.

After they all finished, the friends congratulated each other by hugging—which meant having their muscular bodies press hard against each other—and other kinds of touching, squeezing the each other’s ass cheeks and pecs seemed rather popular. As everyone in the hall celebrated, one of the other patrons decided to pay them two rounds of melocum, while the waiter brough them a cake to celebrate that all of them had cleared the challenge of drinking 10 litres of melocum in less than 10 seconds.

Hans and Haoran were left on the side completely awe-struck, as their hard cocks throbbed and claimed for their attention under their belts. In fact, Haoran, who hadn’t cum as much during his trip to the museum, simply excused himself and went to the toilet. There he entered a stall, lowered his shorts and took his 25cm Chinese cock in his hands. He then cursed in Mandarin, and started beating himself hard as he remembered the image of the huge hunks in the main halls chugging in ridiculous amounts of melocum from a cock-shaped mug, as their balls were squeezing against each other. Haoran imagined himself in between the lads as they drank, and he simply couldn’t contain the force of his orgasm. He came so hard he moaned loudly, leading to a concerned person knocking on the door of his stall and saying something in Portuguese:

Ei, tudo bem aí, cara?” asked the deep but kind voice. Haoran was still coming, his juice splashing on the wall in front of him, so he couldn’t process the question and, honestly, even if he could it would be useless as he didn’t speak any Portuguese whatsoever. He just continued cursing in his mother language as delight overtook his body and rope after rope of his cum was delivered onto the wall and into the toilet bowl.

The guy outside must have understood the person inside the stall was a foreigner, because when he knocked again his next remark came in English, delivered with a thick accent: “Buddy, everything all right there?” asked the deep and velvety voice. Now, already gasping for air after his orgasm, cum still drooling from his softening cock, Haoran could finally reply:

“Yes… yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking,” he said, and then he was surprised when a large hand appeared above the stall offering him some wet tissues.

“For you to clean yourself,” said the owner of the hand, and Haoran thanked him while turning completely red and taking the tissues, which he used to clean himself. He then cleaned the wall with some toilet paper and flushed it all down the toilet. He then fixed his appearance as much as he could and left the stall, just to surprisingly see a hot 2,35ish-meter-tall hot hunk looking at him.

“I was really curious what you’d look like, gringinho. Sorry,” said the man, then turning around to wash his own hands. Haoran was even redder now than before, but he surprisingly had it in him to use the sink right next to the gigantic muscle hunk who had handed him the tissues, and even enough to start some conversation with him.

In a few minutes, Haoran and this new guy—Lauro—discovered they were both very interested in sizedivergent sports, and since Lauro had been drinking by himself, Haoran ended up returning to the table where Hans was waiting for him bringing now someone else to join them as they drank. Hans was surprised by this development, but not as all bothered by it—in fact, he loved drinking his melocum while staring at Lauro’s pecs move as he spoke, only having to worry about looking up at his handsome face every once in a while, to be polite (which was not a huge ordeal either).

Hans, Haoran and Lauro went from the Leite do Conde coffee shop/bar straight to the Sizedivergent Sports Arena where they found out that several activities were being held. First and foremost, even before entering the arena, they saw a crowd on the parking lot watching a show on a stage that had been set up for the duration of the special events. Lauro was not really that interested in the music, and wanted to get inside at once to see the competition, but Hans and Haoran were just enchanted by the synchronized choreography of the all-size-divergent band.

They sang about the usual stuff—Hans assumed, as their song sounded normal and he didn’t speak Portuguese, of course—but yet the visuals were very unusual. The guitarist had weights tied to his cock, to keep it down so he could maintain his instrument near his body; the drummer, on the other hand, just played his drums around his erect manhood, which split the instrument into a left and a right half, the center being reserved to his erect cock, on which they had drawn the band logo. The keyboard player, on the left, built his keyboard around his erection, and was actually using it to support his instrument—which, of course, meant his throbbing cockhead had a cumtainer around it to guarantee that he wouldn’t destroy the equipment with his pre.

Finally, the lead singer. He was gigantic and jumping around as he sang and danced, flexing his large muscles and literally using his erect member as a second head which to bob back and forth when he was feeling the song particularly strongly. Incredibly, Hans soon noticed, this was also the approach taken by most of the sizedivergent fans in the crowd, and their large cocks not unfrequently smashed against each other, creating great thuds in the crowd.

“Let’s go inside to see the sports. This music show is boring and this band isn’t even that great!” complained Lauro, trying to convince the two foreign lads who were hypnotized by the well-endowed band.

“But, damn, look at them dance!” said Haoran, completely absorbed in the spectacle. Lauro did just that and shrugged.

“I can dance better than that,” he said with a smirk, attracting Hans’s surprised glaze.

“Really? You can?!” he asked, shocked, making Lauro smirk.

“Of course! And I’m not the only one. You have to go to a dance club here, and you’ll see what I mean. We sizedivergent folk are really good dancers overall,” he said with a proud smile, and the image of a bunch of people like Lauro dancing in a tightly packed club makes Hans’s mouth get dry and his cock get wet. Before he can even process the thought entirely, though, Lauro is pulling him and Haoran towards the entrance of the modern-looking Sizedivergent Sports Arena.


The three lads got inside the installations and there they saw many large sizedivergent men and women walking around—there were even some families there, although Haoran and Hans registered mostly the men, and as such women and families kind of didn’t seem to exist to the lads. In between them, there were other normal guys too: some were just regular fans, and were entering with flags, banners and t-shirts and going directly to their seats; other seemingly came with their sizedivergent friends or significant others, and these were often a part of larger groups which mixed normal and sizedivergent people. These groups were the most interesting to Hans, whose mind decided to wonder a little and imagine what his own life would have been like if he had been born in Brazil and had interacted with sizedivergent folks his whole live. Would he, then, not be so obsessed about them? Or would he be equally obsessed, and just happier?

Something in his heart of hearts told him the second alternative was the most likely.

Lauro continued forcing the smaller lads to advance, until they went to the ticket booth and heard that today’s event was free—they just needed to get a ticket for bureaucratic reasons, and they were assigned fairly good seats. The three of them then went up to their places, finding that the matches had already started: they were having four at once—one of the heavyweight, one of the half-heavyweight, one of the midweight and one of the half-midweight categories.

As soon as they saw the sizedivergent men wrestling one another, Hans and Haoran couldn’t look away from the gigantic bodies grabbing and rubbing on each other. That caused Hans to almost sit in the wrong place—if only there had been no-one there to complain that this German lad was trying to sit on his lap! Hans apologized profusely, to the great amusement of Lauro, and the three lads soon found their seats only a few meters above the matches.

“Damn, I can hardly believe it, that’s Diogo Rodrigues, right there! Wait, look! That’s his signature cocklever movement where he uses the huge mass of his erect cock as a lever to throw the other wrestler off the ground!” said an impressed Haoran, his cock already hard and wet under his pants.

“No way that this is going to work with Lucas da Silva! He is one of the heaviest people in the league, look at his muscles, and those massive balls! They anchor him to the ground and his scrotum is very loose, flexible enough to give his balls plenty of space to readjust if Diego tries anything. There’s no way Diego can move them with his cock alone!” comments an impressed Hans, with his white rod equally hard and wet under his own shorts.

“Stop focusing only on their cocks and balls! You sound like amateurs…” commented Lauro laughing. “Look at the thick arms of Diego’s, and his hands: he is using them to push against Lucas’s balls while doing the cocklever move, so I think he will manage to roll them and soon… ,” he started, and then Lucas da Silva’s whole gigantic and muscular body rolls out of the arena, his balls following the rest of his massive body thanks to Diego’s efforts—and soon the judge announces Diego’s victory. “There it is!” completes Lauro, smiling.

“Damn, you really do know how this works,” said Haoran, impressed, but barely blinking and absolutely not looking away from the other delicious matches that continued normally as a fallen Lucas was helped up, bowed to Diego, and was subsequently escorted to the resting area.

“Sure, I won the state championship three times when I was in school. I was quite good at it, back then. Only decided to quit because I couldn’t fit in my weight category anymore and it really takes a toll on your body to wrestle professionally,” Lauro explained, and Hans puts his hand on the larger man’s legs.

“Wow, that’s impressive… but look, look, look! Henrique Santos’s latex uniform can barely contain his cock as he now entered the ring to dispute with Diego Rodrigues. They just started rubbing their barely contained members against each other under their strained clothing… !” said an attentive Hans, absorbing everything that his eyes could see, knowing that this would become the content of his dreams for many, many months to come.

Lauro sighed—apparently his past could not quite compete with the images in front of Hans’s and Haoran’s eyes right now.

“Yes, that’s just the greeting, though. See, now they are starting to actually wrestle,” he said, as the two muscular 2-and-a-half-plus meter studs grabbed each other’s arms, and started trying to pull and push one another. Their junks, mostly under the latex of their costumes, rubbed against each other, making their whole bulges bounce as they did so—up, down, left, right. Balancing all that weight and its movement, they all knew, was key during the match.

Soon Diego was rubbing his harder cock up and down on the underside of Henrique’s long shaft, their latex costumes stretching as their manhoods grew under their clothes. Soon Henrique became hard enough that his cock was poking out of his uniform and was covering his view of his competitor, forcing him to use his touch alone to keep a hold of him. Besides, the long and throbbing erection changed the whole weight balance of Henrique’s body, allowing Diego to eventually lower himself and grab his rival’s legs.

When he grabbed Henrique’s legs, Diego forced the other stud to the ground on his back, and then mounted him, their balls were compressed against each other, and Diego quickly lowered himself on Henrique’s torso, crushing his whole body—including his hard cock—with his own member. Diego tried to move, but he just couldn’t do anything as he was overwhelmed by Diego’s larger and more skilled cock and overall muscles. The judge started the count and soon Diego could stand up as he had won once more. The crowd cheering him.

After that victory, though, he went to rest and get drained, as his cock was throbbing too much and starting to wet the floor and soak his own body in his precum. This short pause would give the other competitors a change to shine in their subsidiary matches, as the champion took some time off.

Following Diego’s temporary exit from the limelight, the lads dispersed a little and started watching the other matches. One of the guys in the midweight category was doing superbly well, managing to defeat three guys reasonably larger than him using his incredible speed. Hans continued watching him as he used his speed to get under his rival and, with their bodies rubbing against each other through their latex uniforms, force him on the ground and then immobilize him and burry his face under his own majestic balls—getting him to stop struggling quite quickly.

Meanwhile, Haoran watched the mid-heavyweight fight where the larger of the two guys seemed to be a foreigner—his uniform had the Russian flag on it. That guy, probably not used to fighting sizedivergent men larger than himself back in his motherland, was having a hard time accepting that his cockslap technic wouldn’t work. He insisted once and again to move his whole upper body in a swing so that his penis—erect as it was, even as it remained contained by his tight latex uniform—would slam his opponent and make him lose balance. The problem here was that his opponent was almost his own size, and had a penis more than sufficiently large to respond to the Russian cockswing with his own advances.

Lauro, meanwhile, continued following the heavyweight matches, especially as one of his favorite wrestlers entered the arena: Leonardo Campos, or ‘the geyser’, as they called him. His cock was simply always naturally moist, and it grew increasingly wet during the matches, changing the dynamic of the fight. Unlike his opponents, who were mostly used to fighting against dry opponents, whose bodies were easy to hold and grapple, Leonardo used his cock’s productivity to his advantage, and as such if a fight lasted longer than 3 minutes, he’d win it 19 out of 20 times.

“Fuck, fuck! Look at him, he is already oozing so much pre!” said Lauro, cheering for Leonardo as he mostly avoided his rival in the beginning of the dispute. Leonardo’s would cock slowly—and increasingly—coat his member, costume and body on slimy pre, but he was still too dry to advance. Soon, however, he’d turn from the defensive to the offensive.

Lauro’s excitement attracted Haoran’s attention, who quickly focused on Leonardo as well. The wrestler was then focusing on rubbing his own balls to make his cock ooze more pre, while his rival was moving desperately around him, trying to push Leonardo out of the ring—preferably by slamming his own hard manhood against Leonardo’s. However, Leonardo’s competitor failed every time: even when his cockhead did slam Leonardo’s, the latter’s costume was already drenched enough in pre that the slap because a long, wet thrust and rubbing of the two massive members—almost an athlete’s equivalent of frottage.

The crowd, lewd as ever, cheered the move violently.

“I think it’s over, he is already pretty darn wet,” said Lauro, surprising Haoran, who still seemed to think the battle between Leonardo and his rival was pretty balanced. Soon, however, Lauro would be proven right—Leonardo ran towards his competitor, his cock slammed and slid against the other man’s whole torso, coating him on Leonardo’s pre. Soon, Leonardo pushed his rival to the floor, using his feet to force his legs to bend. In a swift motion, Leonardo forced the man to slide face down on the floor, and then he contained him putting his wet manhood on his rival’s back, while holding his large cockhead with his own hands.

Ten seconds soon passed, and the judge said it was over: an overwhelming victory for Leonardo.

“Damn, what a fight! I want to see him fight Diego, now, they seem to be the two most interesting fighters here!” said Haoran, excited, and Lauro nodded.

“Indeed, Diego is a master of dry wrestling, while Leonardo excels at wrestling wet. A match between them would be great to see, but I don’t think it will happen today—they’d certainly want to charge us to see such a momentous event,” explained Lauro, and Haoran nodded, thinking he’d definitely pay to see that, if he could.


After watching a few more fights, Hans’s cock was ready to burst in his own shorts, and so he decided to go to the bathroom, planning to take care of it there. It was a little hard finding his ways in the arena, since all signs were in Portuguese, but the German lad managed to ask some people for information—and apparently at least some could speak a decent enough English to inform him where to go, as he did eventually find his way to the loo.

Soon, Hans entered the restroom, finding several urinals which were so large that even he realized they were mostly fit for sizedivergent men. Hans immediately went for the privacy of the stalls, but they were all occupied, and so he resorted to returning and using one of the most distant urinals while praying that all would be fine. Soon, he picked one, pretty far from everyone else. Once there he lowered his pants and took off his hard 27cm German cock, and started stroking it. Soon, however, he felt quite exposed—mostly due to the sheer enormity of the space between each one of the little walls protecting his flanks, which were obviously designed having much wider men than him in mind.

As he jerked his own cock slowly, trying not to attract too much attention from others, a large half-sizedivergent man came and chose the urinal right next to his—proving, if anything, that his slow stroking had had the effect of attracting perhaps too little attention and making him seem too innocent for his own good.

Hans tried his best to keep focused on his cock, which he was holding and stroking softly, much to his delight. However, he couldn’t stop looking to the left with the corner of his eyes, and seeing that his neighbor had a cock maybe 2 times as large as his own—and it was also soft!

“Damn, that’s a huge cock!” he said, almost unintentionally, while his stroking his own manhood and looking downwards. The guy to his left looked towards Hans, surprised.

“Oh… foreigner?” he asked, apparently a bit confused as to why the guy next to him had complimented his penis in English. “I… am half divergent, not really that large,” he said with a kind smile and a strong accent, as he started to stroke his own large penis mimicking Hans’s motions. The German lad became red like a tomato, but couldn’t take his eyes away from the expanding cock next to him, which was being stroked by this hot and muscular guy in his mid-twenties who just so happened to have addressed that very reality a second earlier.

“It’s really huge,” Hans commented again, after gathering some courage, while his stroking had become what can only be described as ‘beating’. The other guy smiled.

“You too kind,” he said, and then stopped stroking his cock and just pulled the foreskin from the head, revealing his wet pre-covered glands, “You want feel weight? It’s okay, is fine to touch,” he offers, and Hans’s left hand immediately stops stroking his own penis and rises to about the height of the small wall between them.

“Can I?” asked Hans, almost drooling, almost begging, almost afraid this was a dream and not reality. But the handsome guy just smiled and nodded.

“Of course, foreign friend. I bet not that many large cocks where you are from, you should try!” he said, with a smile that formed small little dimples on his cheeks. He then lifted his own right hand, took Hans’s left wrist, and directed the German lad’s hand to his own gigantic Brazilian phallus. When Hans’s fingers touched the hot beast, he lost himself and brought his other hand from his cock to this Brazilian log, and both his hands together started squeezing as stroking the larger rod to his left.

The hot half-sizedivergent Brazilian guy soon started to moan and took his own large hands from his cock to Hans’s, deciding to stroke his smaller German manhood while the German tourist stroked, felt, squeezed, rubbed and massaged his own much more significant Brazilian penis.

The two continued on it for a few minutes—during which time many people entered in the restroom, registered what they were doing, and ignored it. Their little actions continued the same until Hans came furiously on the urinal, completely overwhelmed by the intensity of his orgasm, by his own cock being stroked, and by this gigantic rod he was being allowed to play with. The other lad didn’t come right then, but he did recollect his efforts and concentrated them on helping Hans milk his Brazilian member—which, together, they managed to do a few minutes later, when the man came copiously on his own urinal and on Hans’s hands, which the German tourist had moved towards the cockhead exactly to grab and then taste as much as possible of the delicious sizedivergent spunk he had helped bring forth.

After the other guy recovered himself from his orgasmic happiness, he stroked his cock clean of leftover juices and cleaned his hands before patting Hans on the back.

“Thank you, foreign dude. Hope you enjoyed experience,” he said, with a kind smile. Hans, who had almost lost all the strength on his knees due to his second, smaller orgasm—the one he had from feeling and seeing that guy cum -, simply nodded favorably.

He never knew life could be so good.


Hans bought some liquids to rehydrate and returned to his seat to watch some more matches with the other lads. Not much after, however, the matches were over and the three of them decided to return each to their own hostel (or, in Lauro’s case, home).

“Let’s exchange numbers, Hans. Maybe we can do something together later, since we are both in São Paulo for the same reasons, more or less,” said Haoran, and Hans gave the Chinese guy his number while sporting a cheeky smile.

“Yes, more or less, right?” he said, and Haoran laughed at Hans’s response. Haoran then went and got Lauro’s number—for completely different reasons, however—and the three of them went their own ways for the night.

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