The Festival of Haasenpfaap

by S. Q. Neemie

Wes’s roommate Zeb ropes him into celebrating his family’s yearly autumn festival of Haasenpfaap. When Wes is inadvertently chosen as this season’s Haasenpfaapeer, Zeb and Wes have to figure out how to reverse the changes Wes experiences.

5 parts 27k words Added Dec 2022 6,495 views 4.9 stars (25 votes)

Prologue Wes’s roommate Zeb ropes him into celebrating his family’s yearly autumn festival of Haasenpfaap. When Wes is inadvertently chosen as this season’s Haasenpfaapeer, Zeb and Wes have to figure out how to reverse the changes Wes experiences. (added: 17 Dec 2022)
Day 2: Plaaka-Plaaka
Day 3: Maarkeilscaant  (added: 24 Dec 2022)
Day 4: Flaaka-Floop
Day 5: Haasenpfaap Vaal Baasenfaast Dikka Daak
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Prologue

My roommate Zeb is from one of those crazy Midwestern religions—you know, the kind where everyone dresses in homemade clothes and things like buttons and windows are prohibited? Zeb’s left it behind him—not practicing anymore or anything, I mean, and a pretty cool dude besides—but him growing up in a cult still bubbles up every so often. How could it not, right? But like I say, he’s a good dude and he doesn’t get all butthurt if people tease him about it. Which is good, because I’d be lying if I said whatever it is he grew up believing wasn’t weird as all fuck.

Like the other day—he came home all excited because it’s autumn and everyone’s got pumpkins up. He banged into the apartment door singing some weird German/Dutch hymn thing and then went all red when I caught him at it. Zeb’s got some things going against him, I guess—there’s the weird-ass origin story, for one thing—but also he’s a good 5’5” soaking wet and I’m guessing he grew up scrawny, though you wouldn’t guess it now. He’s at the gym almost as much as me and the other guys down at the station, and he’s gotten pretty stacked since we moved in together—what, five years ago? He does all right, is what I mean—girls are always all over him. I guess it’s the face, the way he scrunches up his nose when he’s embarrassed, like he did when I caught him singing his nonsense.

“It’s the pumpkaan saangan,” he said when I insisted he tell me what he was singing. “You know, for Haasenpfaap?”

“No clue what language you’re speaking there, dude,” I grinned at him.

He got this look he gets sometimes where someone’s caught him not knowing something about normal culture and he has to freeze and look friendly so no one notices. Too bad I know Zeb inside and out by this point, and he can’t get around me that way. “This one of your home thingies?” I said.

He blinked and went even redder. “People don’t—do Haasenpfaap? I thought, with all the pumpkins on doorsteps—”

I blinked at him. “Halloween? They’re jack-o-lanterns, man.”

He did that if-my-expression-doesn’t-change-you-don’t-know-I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about face again. “Oh, okay,” he said. “Hell-o-ween, right. Jack-o-lanterns. Okay.”

“You’re not even saying it right, dude,” I laughed. “Haaaaahloweeen. Don’t you remember that costume party we went to last year where that girl threw up down your shirt? That’s Halloween. People dress up in costumes and kids go door to door and you give them candy.” He blinked at me. “Seriously, man? It’s a big deal.”

“So I don’t know it, dude,” he said, letting his face drop. “I got it now. Helloween.”

“Still saying it wrong,” I laughed. “Haaaaloween, dude.”

“But—I thought Hell was the scary place,” he said.

“They’re different things,” I said, then paused. “I think? What’s this Haasenplossenfopper thing anyway?”

“Ah, fuck, doesn’t matter,” he said, smiling at me with a shrug. “Just something we used to do at home. I saw the pumpkins out and I thought it was something that people did here too. Never mind, dude.”

“Okay, man,” I said. “You want to watch the game or something?”

He took a look at me sitting on the couch and kind of sighed without showing that’s what he was doing, if that makes sense. “Naw, man, I’ve got some shit to do. I’ll crash in my room to keep from bugging you.”

“Not gonna bother me, man,” I said. “Unless you’re planning on farting the place up or something.”

“Well—maybe I am,” he said. He flipped me off as he crossed through the living room, giving me the finger. It’s this thing we do sometimes—I taught him how to flip people off the first time we really clicked, clear back at some party at some friends neither of us even talk to anymore, but now we flip each other off all the time, like we do it instead of a fist bump or even a wave. It can freak girls out when we’re out at the club or whatever, but it’s kind of a cool special language thing we have going on between us.

People are always saying that Zeb and I act more like a couple than roommates. I guess there’s something to that—we clicked pretty hard from the beginning and haven’t ever really stopped. I dunno—I grew up with four brothers, so I guess I just like having dudes around and close, though I’m nowhere near as close to any of my own brothers as I am with Zeb, if I’m honest. He and I do everything we can together, not because we need each other or any shit like that, just because—well, you know, it’s better than doing stuff alone.

Vic—that’s my buddy from the fire station—says that’s bullshit. “You aren’t hanging around him because you don’t like being alone, “ he said to me once at the station gym. “I’ve seen you run off his girlfriends, bro. You’re like a fucking jealous wife with them.” He was grinning when he said it, but he wasn’t grinning after I challenged him to match my bench weight. But he’s kind of right about the girlfriend thing, if I’m honest. I mean, it’s not like I want to keep Zeb all to myself or anything messed up like that, it’s just—I don’t think he’s met a girl yet who can, you know, be good enough for him. Zeb’s a really solid dude, is what I mean, and if he’s with a girl I think is gonna make fun of him or break his heart or whatever, then it makes me uncomfortable, simple as that. Don’t want my dude hurt. If he was with a chick I felt comfortable trusting him to, I wouldn’t have any trouble, honestly. It just hasn’t happened yet. That doesn’t make me jealous, right?

Whatever. It’s probably Vic who’s jealous.

Anyway, the point of telling you all this is to let you know why I only made it ten minutes or so into watching the game alone before I started to feel a little antsy. Like I said, Zeb and me do everything together, and so watching the game without him, while I knew he was in the house just on the other side of the wall, made me feel like maybe he was—I dunno, getting tired of hanging with me or something, or like maybe he was mad or something for me making a crack about the weird-ass way he grew up. So after making myself sit through fifteen more minutes of the fucking game I pulled myself off the couch and went to his room.

He was sitting on his bed sort of looking out the window, his blonde hair all in his eyes like it does, and I leaned in so I could kick the nearest leg of the bed and jolt him out of it. “C’mon, dude, stop moping and come watch the game with me,” I said.

“Naw, man, I’m all right,” he said. “I’m just thinking.”

Zeb thinking makes all my alarms inside go off. “Hell, dude, you gotta shut that down,” I said, trying to smile. “Did I go too far with the Halloween stuff?”

“I just—fuck,” he said, and hell if he wasn’t tearing up a little bit, “I hate that I don’t know shit about the world. I’m not an idiot, I just—never learned it, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, putting my hands up. “You know I know, man. C’mon. I was just teasing you.”

He sighed. “Yeah, sorry. Just gets me down.”

I’m no good with emotions, especially dude emotions, but you know how it is when it’s your bro—you’d do anything to keep from feeling that scary thing in your chest that says he’s on his own journey and he doesn’t need you—or that he’s better off without you. You let that thing in your chest run you then that’s game over, man. So, I tackled him. Not like you’re thinking, just a little bit of horseplay, right? Lighten the mood. He’s got this spot on his side—not his pits like you’d expect, but just below—that is hella ticklish and if I can get my fingers in there without him wrenching them off with his biceps I can always make him laugh. Pretty soon the two of us were panting on his bed with Zeb trying to snap off my fingers with his fucking guns and laughing the whole time.

“Okay, okay, dude, I’ll come watch the fucking game,” he gasped. “Jesus!”

So everything was all right, yeah?

Except after we’d crashed on the couch and tuned back into the game I could tell that he was back in his head and not watching the Pistoneers at all. So after a while I turned it off, and when he protested I said, “Dude, you’re still moping! You’re bad luck.”

He stuck out his chin. He’s got one of those dimpled chins, girls love it. “The Pistoneers don’t need me as an excuse, bro. Their defense is shit.”

“Look man, tell you what,” I said, because I’d been thinking pretty hard about it, so I guess I was kind of moping instead of watching, too. “Why don’t we do your thing tonight? That Hossen thing.”

“Haasenpfaap?” he said, blinking. “What do you mean?”

“Shit, Zeb, it’s not your fault that you don’t know things like Halloween, is what I mean,” I said. “If I came to your folks’ house, I wouldn’t have a clue what was going on—like, all the time. So, let me be the dude who doesn’t know what’s going on here, for once. You can teach me about this Hossenfap thing, and we’ll do it together, and you can laugh at how bad I am at it.”

Haasenpfaap,” he said. “You have to lean on the first aah. Dude, you know I don’t believe any of that anymore.”

I put up my hands. “You think I believe in Halloween?” I said. “It’s just games for adults to make them feel like kids again. You liked this—Hawsenpufap?—when you were a kid, right?”

He grinned. “Yeah, it was a big deal. My brother Elijah and I—”

“So there you go, dude,” I said. I don’t really like hearing about Zeb’s brother Elijah, to be honest. Zeb kind of thinks of him as his hero, even though the guy is obviously an asshole. “You gotta give yourself space for shit like that. So, let’s do it. Let’s—Haasenfaap together.”

“Dude, that was almost right,” he said.

“See? You’re getting into it,” I said. “So let’s go for it.”

He looked at me for a long time, all blue eyes and blonde eyelashes. Fuck, I know how that sounds, but that’s just me saying I notice these things, all right? With people like Vic and ex-girlfriends I’ve had saying that Zeb and me have this weird couple-y thing going on, I’ve thought about stuff like being with Zeb and so I notice when he’s looking—fuck, I dunno. When he looks at me like he’s this little muscle ball of gratitude, I guess I’m close enough to being bi that I feel at least a stirring down there, right? Nothing wrong with it, it’s the fucking twenty-first century. Not that I’d ever do anything about it. You can fuck right off, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m just saying that I’m comfortable enough in myself to know when a dude looks attractive, and that I notice it in Zeb sometimes, okay? Jesus.

Anyway, he gets moving pretty quick after that, because it turns out I somehow hit on exactly what he needed, and all of a sudden he’s a mass of energy, scooting the furniture to the edges of the room and pulling me off the couch to sit cross-legged on the carpet.

“So, Haasenpfaap is five nights,” he said, sitting down in front of me. “Tonight is Eilachtstaddent, which means it’s song-and-wrestle night. We—uh, do you know the story of the Haasenpfaapeer?”

“Dude,” I said, giving him a look.

“Okay, man, don’t get your panties twisted up,” he said, grinning. “Um—hmm. Short story, he’s a—man or creature, kind of. He comes every year after the harvest to inspect the crops—like, he’s there, but you can’t see him. He’s like—sort of like a demon, I guess? Or also an angel, I guess, it kind of depends. He hangs around to—keep an eye on things, and on Eilachtstaddent you let him know he’s welcome and you wrestle to see who is the Haasenpfaapeer for that year. If he’s there and he approves of everything, he visits your home and you know that you’ll be extra productive in the next year.”

“You’re gonna make me sing?” I asked.

He grinned. “Hell, yeah.”

“Is tequila part of this celebration, too?” I asked. “Because if I’m gonna sing, we’re both gonna need it.”

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Three shots each and most of a very bad, very long song later, Zeb and I were sitting in the middle of the living room floor, our knees almost touching as we finished the last chord. I have no idea anything that we sung, since it was all in Zeb’s family’s weird language, but it lasted for fucking ever and went up and down like whoever wrote the music was climbing up and down a ladder the whole time.

Zeb’s eyes were closed as we stopped singing, a smile playing around his lips. “Dude, that was weird,” he said when he finished. “I haven’t sung that since I was a kid.”

“Did it work?” I said. “Did we call the Hussainpeer or whatever?”

“We don’t know yet,” he said. “The story goes, the first Haasenpfaap, two brothers were so anxious to prove that they wanted Haasenpfaapeer to visit their homes that they wrestled for the privilege. The older brother beat the younger brother, but the Haasenpfaapeer was so turned off by the older brother’s gloating when he won that he visited the younger brother’s home instead. Since then, whoever loses the Haasenpfaap wrestling contest becomes the Haasenpfaapeer for the rest of the festival.”

“Dude, whoever loses?” I said. “Why wouldn’t you just throw the contest?”

“Man, it’s not fun to be visited by the Haasenpfaapeer,” said Zeb, scrunching up his nose. “You have to act in his stead and judge the harvest, and visit all the houses with newlyweds, and lead the circle in Oldaastnaacht—”

“Okay, okay, I’m convinced, man,” I said, laughing. “I won’t try to throw things. We need to do anything fancy for the wrestling, or just—go at it?”

“Um—” he looked around our living room. “No, this should be good.”

“Just till the pin?” I said, getting up from the floor. “Fair warning, buddy, I wrestled in high school.”

“I’ve brought down bulls bigger than you, Wes,” he grinned, getting up too. “Not worried. The pin wins.”

We faced each other, bending over till our faces were practically touching. It felt kind of—serious? Enough that I lost my grin and that thing in my chest started jumping around again.

“On three?” I said, clearing my throat.

“Thraesaal,” he said. nodding. “Unat, Twataal, thrae—”

“Three!” I said, still laughing as I lunged at him. I got my hands on his waist but that fucking low center of gravity he has threw me, and before I could manhandle him down the ground he had basically ducked through my arms and climbed around me, knocking the back of my knee with his foot so that I went down hard onto the floor with an oof. The next thing I knew he had his thick arms wrapped around my head and neck, pushing his knee against my spine so I couldn’t catch my balance. I managed to throw him by rolling up and off my knee and away from the lock he was trying to press into my head, but he was right there rolling with me so that when I got my balance back he was guiding it and I swayed with the weight of his stocky body latching onto me like a barnacle. For a brief second I thought maybe I’d try to get under his arms again for a little close-to-cheating tickling, but then all at once I was going down and he was on my back, pressing me down against the carpet.

“Holy shit, Zeb,” I said into the threads of the carpet. “How the fuck did you do that?”

“I told you, I’ve taken down a lot of bulls,” he laughed.

“All right, all right, man, you got me,” I said. “Lemme up.” He pulled off me and I rolled back up to sit on the carpet, straightening my hair out. “How did I not know you were so good at that, dude? I wouldn’t have agreed so quickly to put my dignity on the line.”

Zeb was grinning. “You’re the Haasenpfaapeer,” he said. “Man, I’d never picture you as the Haasenpfaapeer before, dude, but it suits you.”

“I have to say I’ve never seen myself as—that way, either,” I said, rubbing my chin. “Do I have to wear a costume or something?”

“Just on your head,” grinned Zeb. “We’re supposed to make a crown out of wheat stalks.”

“Don’t have any, thankfully,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Do I get any perks? A corn maiden virgin or something like that?”

Zeb laughed. “Well, you’re not really the Haasenpfaapeer,” he said. “The idea is you’re—kind of his representative. The story is, he chooses one representative from the whole world to actually visit. But we could go find a virgin for you, if you want.”

“I think what this Haaspanfeer really wants is another shot to wash down that fucking defeat,” I said, surging to my feet. “You want one?”

“Sure,” said Zeb, still sitting on the floor, his hair all messy from our wrestling match. He picked at the threads in the carpet and then said, “Hey, Wes?”

“Yeah?” I said, pouring the shots.

“Thanks, man,” he said, going red and trying not to look at me. “That—that meant a lot.”

Well, man, I don’t know about you, but I get a little good feeling when my bro is grateful, you know? Warm and happy, especially when my bro is a firecracker like Zeb always is. I slid down next to him on the floor and handed him his shot.

“Haasenpfaapeer first,” he said, clinking my glass.

“Salud,” I said, raising it at him. “Or whatever, man.” The tequila burned on the way down but that didn’t keep me from noticing the way Zeb was watching me with that grateful smile playing around the corner of his lips. Probably it was the warmth of the tequila going down, but I suddenly felt like this Festival of Haasenpfaap was going to be my best Halloween ever.

 

Day 2: Plaaka-Plaaka

The next morning, I started freaking out the minute I saw myself in the mirror.

“Oh my God,” I said, staring and blinking. “Zeb! Zeb, what the everloving fuck—!”

I burst into his room, but of course he’d gone to work on time, for once. It was just me in the house, left to deal with—I didn’t even know what.

Shit, but isn’t that always the way it goes, though? I tried not to get mad at Zeb for not being there to hold my hand or whatever, but the truth is I could’ve really used a buddy at that moment and a little part of me that has nothing to do with logic thought Zeb should’ve known that and stuck around for me.

You don’t need to tell me that’s stupid and selfish, I’m just saying how it felt. But you gotta do what you gotta do, as my old football coach used to say, so I went back to the bathroom and tried to figure out what was going on.

So, I stay pretty fit, right? You kind of have to, in my line of work. Lifting and cardio is part of the job. So I’ve gotten used to being stacked and all. Not a brag—I mean, not a brag in this context. Just trying to say that I’ve seen sudden growth and I know what it is to be, you know, a bit more pumped after a day at the gym.

What was going on with my chest that morning, though, was no way something that could have happened after even a month’s dedication in the gym. My pecs were fucking huge—two enormous slabs of muscle that dominated my upper body and hung so heavy and fat they stuck out from my abs in a way they’d never done before. I mean, like I said, I stay pretty fit but I’d never had definition like this. My pecs weren’t defined like a bodybuilder’s is, with those lines of muscle across them, this was more like—pretty-boy model pecs, like the kind you’d see on a Greek statue but fucking bigger, smooth and round and, I dunno, fucking full. For a crazy second I thought maybe they were fake, like somehow Zeb had fixed me up with a pair of plastic pecs for some weird-ass reason of his own and without me knowing, but when I poked them they were definitely me. They were also fucking sensitive. Just the brush of my finger made my knees shake a bit, and when I squeezed the left pec to confirm it the whole bathroom swam a little bit before my eyes. Fuck, but these things were intense. What the hell was going on?

I stood there staring at my new pecs for a long time, flexing them a little (which—weird—felt stupid powerful but also made my asshole clench in response?) and just sort of feeling them up. I know I should have got my ass to the hospital right away—that’s what you do with weird growths on your chest, right?—but the thing is the new pecs looked really good. With the sudden big chest I looked like the sort of stud everyone wanted, and I couldn’t quite believe that I developed two sexy, perfectly proportional tumors overnight just like that. I figured it must be some sort of hormone spurt or something, something natural anyway. Going to the doctor would be looking a gift horse in the mouth, right? And I admit I posed for the mirror and fuck if my dick didn’t stir a little.

So, I decided to ride it out a little. I mean, it’s not like it was a bad thing, waking up with a killer chest. Just weird.

I felt a lot less creeped out after I made the decision to wait and see what was up with everything. I had a shift down at the fire station that morning so I showered (which felt hella nice on the new equipment, I gotta say) and tackled the challenge of getting dressed. My pants went on just fine, of course, but when I tried to get an undershirt on the stretchy white fabric slid over my pecs in a way that felt—fucking indescribable. Like, I had to sit down and catch my breath afterward, that’s how sensitive my pecs were. With the extra flesh it had to stretch over, though, the undershirt didn’t even make it to my belly-button, and when I checked myself out in the mirror it looked like I was wearing a fucking sports bra. So that was out. Fortunately my uniform shirt has a bit of give and is a button-up, but still I had to leave the top three buttons undone, giving the whole world a look at my new cleavage and seriously challenging the strength of the buttons I was actually able to close.

I took a look at myself after I’d finished struggling with the shirt and it wasn’t pretty. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I looked pretty fucking good with my muscles trying to climb out of my suddenly skin-tight shirt, but I also looked like a deadass stripper dressed as a firefighter rather than someone you’d trust to get your kitten out of a tree. I guessed that Chief O’Brien wouldn’t find it very funny, if he caught me slutting it up in my uniform, even if it wasn’t technically my fault that I suddenly had a lot more—assets—to deal with.

“Whatever,” I said, frowning at myself in the mirror. “I can get a bigger shirt at the station.” Hoping for the best, I grabbed my keys and headed downtown.

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The station was thankfully pretty quiet when I arrived, and I guessed most of the guys were off to Stacey’s Cafe for the Bacon Buster Breakfast the boys like to hit every Tuesday. Trying to keep a low profile, I snuck through the engine room and into the back area where they set up a makeshift living space for when we’re waiting for a call. There’s a bunch of lockers there from some of the guys who volunteer every few months or so, and I figured I could snatch a shirt from one of the bulkier guy’s lockers with no one being the wiser.

It was a good plan and it would have worked, but of course the second I stepped through the door I ran right into my buddy Vic, who was on his way out of the room.

Vic bounced off me like a rubber ball and took a few steps back. “Holy hell, dude, watch where you’re—” he started, then he gave me the once-over and his eyes got as big as dinner plates. “What the fuck, Wes?” he squeaked. “What happened to you?”

“Calm down, man,” I said, putting my hands up. Vic is kind of antsy at the best of times, and I didn’t need him going apeshit over me right then. “I’m retaining water or some shit, I dunno. I’ve got it under control.”

“Holy shit, dude,” he said, still staring. “That’s—um—those are—fuck...”

Vic’s our station’s ladykiller—he looks a little like a young Mario Lopez, all chin and dark hair and eyes and shit. He got married last year, which you think would slow him down a bit in the smolder department, but that’s not really the case. Not that he cheats on Amelia, I don’t think—but he’s pretty smooth all the time, is what I’m saying. Always saying the right thing and giving that model half-grin, even around the guys in the force. I’ve never seen him freaked out this much before and I don’t like it.

“They’re pecs, Vic,” I said, kind of growling. “You’ve seen pecs before. Try to chill a little, yeah?”

He shook his head. “Dude, what did you do—go to the gym 24/7 for the past three days? Those are some serious results, man!” He paused. “You—you’re not on anything, are you?”

“What?” I said. “Fuck, no. This is just—water retention or something, man, seriously.”

Vic whistled, still staring, but at least he was looking more like himself and not some freaked-out kid version of a firefighter. “Dude, what’d you do, go swallow a lake? There’s no fucking way that’s water retention. Are they implants?”

“Shit, man, don’t make me kick your ass,” I growled for real. “I don’t need no fucking implants.” Vic’s my buddy and all but we kind of seesaw between being pals and wanting to dominate each other, if you know what I mean. Not like me and Zeb where everything’s always kind of settled between us, and any kind of horseplay we do is just, you know, messing around because we like it. What I’m saying is I can lose to Zeb and it’s still fun. I’d fucking lose it if Vic ever pinned me, though.

“Man, if that’s all you, you sure fucking don’t,” said Vic, still staring. “What—what kind of regimen did you switch to, bro?”

“I can’t fucking have this conversation, Vic,” I said. “It’s just water retention or some kind of hormone thing and I am gonna go find myself another shirt and we’re both gonna drop it, yeah? If I figure out what’s going on, you’ll be the first one I tell.” I pushed past him toward the lockers and started opening them at random, searching for a uniform shirt big enough to fit me.

Vic—the fucker—followed me. “Okay, man, okay,” he said. “It’s just—fuck—those things, they’re like…” He shook his head. “Amazing, dude.”

“Okay, Vic,” I said, opening another locker door. Success! A uniform shirt was hanging there that was probably big enough. Quickly unbuttoning my own straining shirt, I peeled it off my shoulders and turned around to catch Vic doing his dinner-plate stare again.

“What?” I demanded.

“Holy God, Wes,” he breathed. “Can I—can I touch them?”

I stared at him. “The fuck, dude,” I growled.

“Nothing queer, I swear,” said Vic, and he fucking swallowed like his throat was dry. “They’re just—I’ve never seen anything like those—”

“No, of course you can’t fucking feel me up, dude,” I snapped. “You need any other bulletins, so that we’re clear? No, you can’t feel me up and you can’t fucking put your hand down my pants and you can’t draw me like one of your French girls, either. Jesus.” I turned around and snatched the shirt out of the locker.

Suddenly, though, Vic was behind me, right up against my back saying, “Sorry, dude, I just gotta,” his hands snaking around my torso to squeeze my pecs. Well, I should have belted him right there, buddy or not, right? But the thing is, the second his big hands spread over the heavy slabs of my pecs my whole body shivered and a bolt of pleasure zapped down my spine from the top of my head to my asshole. You know that spot on your dick right under the head where that bundle of nerves is where if you hit it just right it makes all your bones loose, it feels so good? Fuck, it felt like that, but my whole chest was that one spot, and with Vic’s hands on me, even lightly, it was like having a fucking chest-gasm, full body, all at once. So instead of clocking him one I fucking moaned and flexed my pecs under his hands and my cock went from half-mast to a goddamn pillar right then and there.

Fortunately it didn’t last too long, and as soon as my heart started beating again I managed to push myself away from Wes and stumble to one of the benches running in front of the lockers. “Holy fuck, dude, didn’t your mom ever teach you about consent?” I panted, dropping down heavily on the metal seat.

Vic was back to his dinner-plate eyes thing. “Holy fuck, Wes,” he said. His hands were still out, and he looked back and forth between them and my pecs. “Did I just get you off?”

“Get out with that,” I gasped. “Seriously, Vic. They’re just—they’re just—fucking sensitive.” My pecs were still tingling, and had developed a sheen of sweat. Or, was it sweat? The liquid on them was heavier on the bottom half of the slab of muscle and it—shone—under the lights. Carefully, I probed where the build-up seemed heaviest on my right pec, right under my nipple. I guess I hadn’t noticed my nipples yet, being wrapped up in all the new muscles, but now that I was looking at them I saw they were bigger too, and the pebbly skin of the areola was this peaches-and-cream color that looked—I dunno. If I’d seen it on a girl, I’d have liked it, is what I’m saying. But the fluid—

I pulled my finger away from my pec and a thin line of fluid pulled between my finger and my chest, the end of the sticky line oozing slightly upward to the tip of my nipple until it got too thin and broke. I sniffed my finger and swallowed hard when my brain registered the familiar, slightly bleachy smell of—

“Holy mother of God, Wes,” said Vic, who was still close enough to fucking breathe my air. “Are you pissing precum from your titties?”

“Oh, shit, man,” I said, totally forgetting to punch Vic right between the eyes. “Oh shit, oh fucking shit.” I pressed on my pec around the nipple and my dick fucking pulsed in my pants while my pec did the same and clear pec-pre dribbled out of my nipple over my fingers. It wasn’t too long till my hand was coated with the stuff, and I finally let go and just stared at my scummy hand, taking in the scent of raw sex rising from my chest and hand like some kind of perverted cologne. I looked up at Vic. “What the hell, dude?” I managed.

Vic looked down at me, and from my vantage point I saw his hefty dick suddenly shift in his uniform pants, showing the long line of his cock under the dark blue fabric.

Well, that fucking decided me, I can tell you. “Shit, dude, I’m fucking taking a sick day today,” I said quickly, grabbing the 3X shirt from the locker and throwing it on. “Tell Chief O’Brien, okay? Thanks, man.” I pushed past Vic and ran for my car, not even listening to what he shouted after me.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

I spent the rest of the day at the house, shirtless and pacing around nervously and frantically texting Zeb. Vic kept calling me but I ignored him and deleted his texts before I could read them. Shit, I had enough to deal with without thinking about my straight-as-an-arrow buddy Vic staring at me with a fucking ramrod in his boxers, right?

Zeb is a dispatcher so they don’t let him have his phone while he’s on the clock, so I had to wait for fucking ever. It was seriously the worst afternoon of my life, I think. My pecs stopped their oozing routine after a while, but I found I could get them going again pretty easily with just a bit of massage, so it wasn’t like it was situation normal again. Shit, the worst part was how fucking good it all felt. It felt like I could jack off just by rubbing my pecs, if that even makes sense. At one point I turned on some mindless TV to try to settle down, and when I’d zoned out enough that I could scratch my pec without thinking about it all my nerves went whee and the next thing I knew I was braced on the couch with my hips in the air as I went to town on my chest, kneading the muscles with the bottom of my palm and feeling hot pec juice run down onto my abs. I think I was just about to cum to a fucking rerun when I caught myself and ran to the bathroom to take a cold shower. I think I doubled our water bill in a day with how many times I hauled myself back to the bathroom to stand under the ice-cold needles of the shower, trying not to notice how the cold was making my fat nipples beg to be tweaked.

You probably can figure I was a fucking mess by the time Zeb got home. Two seconds after he walked in the door I was on him, wrapping my arms around him and trying not to cry, that’s how freaked out I was. And the really fucked up thing was even with everything going on inside my pecs were hella aware that while I was hugging him Zeb’s blonde head was smashed against my chest and that snub nose of his was nestled right between my throbbing pecs, and I could have chest-cum right then and there if I hadn’t forced myself to think about dead puppies like I was a fucking teen at the public pool again, trying to get lil’ Wes to deflate in my board shorts.

“Gaastenplatz, Wes!” said Zeb, pulling out of the hug, which is something he only says when he forgets to watch himself. “What the hell happened to you?”

“You tell me, man,” I said, trying hard to keep my voice from shaking. “I woke up like this.”

“It’s almost like—” said Zeb, then shook his head. “No way, man, that’s not possible.”

“It gets fucking worse, dude,” I said. I started rubbing my pecs up and down, my knuckles pushing my nips back and forth, and in no time the muscle slabs were glazed with the weird clear fluid, shining and sticky right in Zeb’s face. He swallowed hard.

“Jesus, Wes, that smell,” he said.

“Is it fucking bad, man?” I said. “Like cancer or infection or something? I can’t tell.”

“No it’s like—fucking pheromonal or something, man,” said Zeb. “Geez, you could fucking bottle that stuff as a—” He caught a glance at my expression and cleared his throat. “It’s fine, man,” he said with a smile. “Smells okay. Nothing rotten or anything, I swear it.”

“What’s happening to me, dude?” I asked, trying to keep myself from wrapping my arms around him again. Look, I was freaked out, okay?

“I think…” Zeb bit his lip. “Look, this is gonna sound crazy, but I think—I think you’re the Haasenpfaapeer. I mean, like really.

“What?” I said, blinking. “Dude, I’m not really in the mood for all that—”

“No, man, listen,” he said. “I told you that the Haasenpfaapeer chooses one group to visit each year, right? This is what it’s supposed to look like, dude. I mean, when it really happens. That—” he glanced at my scum-slicked chest—“is one of the signs you’ve been, you know chosen.” He swallowed. “I kinda thought it was a myth, man, but—fuck, that’s the evidence right there.”

“Wait, wait, wait, man,” I said. “You mean that—that thing we did last night caused this?” I clapped my hand to my pec and the thing fucking splatted.

“Sort of,” Zeb said. “I know how it sounds, dude.”

“Shit, no way,” I said. “How the hell does some demon visiting make me fucking cum from my pecs, dude?”

Zeb went red. “Well, I said ‘visiting’, man, because that’s how the story goes,” he said. “But it’s more like—he inhabits your body?”

Despite the throbbing of my pecs, I felt my whole body go cold. “What the fuck, Zeb,” I said. “You’re saying I’m gonna get possessed?”

“Um—sort of?” said Zeb. He caught a glance of my expression and stuck his chin out. “Dude, no, man. We—we can turn it around. I promise. I just—I’m just not totally sure how to yet.”

“Shit, man,” I groaned. “I don’t like this, Zeb.”

Zeb swallowed again, looking at my glistening pecs. “Fuck man, tell you what—today is Plaaka-Plaaka. That’s—well—” He went another shade of red and looked down at his feet. “The thing is, the Haasenpfaapeer has—that stuff coming out of your chest, man, they call it maanschmaalken—to kind of get everyone in the community in the mood.”

“In the fucking mood?” I growled.

“Yeah, man, it’s a fertility festival,” he said, still looking at his feet. “Sorry, dude, I should have said. I just—I thought it was all a bit of fun.” He looked up at me. “I didn’t think it was real, man.”

“Shit,” I said, feeling helpless. I sat down heavily on the couch. “What—what do people do for—what was it? Plakka-plakka?”

“Plaaka-plaaka,” said Zeb. “Um—someone—um—shit, man, I’ll just say it. Someone milks the Haasenpfaapeer for his maanschmaalken so…” I gave him a look and he bit his lip. “Look, man, at home it’s just a time to milk the fucking cows, okay? Everyone takes a drink and it’s symbolic or whatever. It’s just in the stories that they—you know—squeeze the the Haasenpfaapeer’s chest…” He glanced at my chest and went red all over again. “Look, it’s supposed to be the right thing to do. It’s the only fucking thing I can think of right now. Tomorrow I’ll call my Meemaa and ask her what to do about the whole situation, okay?” I groaned and Zeb’s face fell. “I don’t know how to turn around a Haasenpfaapeer visit off the top of my head,” he said. “So fucking sue me.”

Well, Zeb looked really crushed and guilty, and that fucking hit me, right? Sure, this weird stuff was happening to me, and in a way it was Zeb’s fault, but I wouldn’t be a true bro if I let him suffer for it when he didn’t mean it. And fuck, but I was a hell of a lot calmer with Zeb standing next to me than I was wandering around the house and freaking out on my own. So I figured maybe I was being a selfish shit and should ease up on him a little.

“Dude,” I said, taking a calming breath. I grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him down on the couch next to me. “Sorry for being an asshole. Just freaking out a bit here.”

“Jesus, I’m so sorry, Wes,” he said, putting his face in his hands. “I really didn’t think it was real, honest.”

“Hey, man, enough of that,” I said, trying to smile as I rubbed his back. “Fuck, could be a worse curse, right? Check out these guns.” I flexed a bit and wiggled my shoulders like a stripper and Zeb managed a smile.

“So—do you want me to, I dunno, find a girl to milk you, man?” he said after a moment. “In the stories, it’s supposed to—um—relieve the tension.”

The thought of anyone but Zeb seeing me like I was sent me panicking a little bit again. “Um—dude—I, fuck, I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but—”

“I can do it, dude,” said Zeb, putting his hand on my arm. “If you’re okay with me doing it, I mean.”

“Shit, Zeb, this is so weird,” I said, relief flooding my whole body. “But—thanks, man. Seriously.”

For a second we just sat there, not really wanting to take the next step. But then Zeb sort of shook his shoulders and said, “All right, man. Happy Plaaka-Plaaka, yeah? Um…why don’t you lie down?”

“Um, sure, man,” I said, all the sudden feeling really shy. Not looking at him, I scooted to the floor and stretched out on the carpet, trying not to reflexively touch my pecs to get them going again. Zeb got off the couch and disappeared for a second, coming back into the room a moment later in a tee and gym shorts.

“This all right?” he asked softly when I looked up at him, blinking. “I was thinking—it would be easier if we were both able to move better.”

“Um—sure, Zeb,” I said. “I uh—don’t want to—get any—of this stuff on your work clothes, anyway.” The weirdness got too much for me all at once and I cleared my throat. “Dude, you are seriously the man for doing this, really.”

“Well, it’s kind of my fault,” he said.

“Fuck that, dude,” I said, letting myself smile. “If I got you to do an Ouija board and you got possessed, it’d be the same thing, right? I would have thought it was bullshit too till something happened. And that is some climbing on the wall puking goo shit, not—all this.” I flexed my pecs, giving myself a tiny shiver of pleasure. “So if anyone’s getting possessed, I’m glad it’s from your weird-ass religion and not mine.”

“Ooogy board?” said Zeb, blinking at me. “What’s that?”

“Never mind, man,” I said, closing my eyes. “The point is, it’s not your fault so just stop feeling guilty, okay? Just fucking milk my tits, man, yeah?”

He snorted and I opened one eye and grinned at him.

“You’re a fucking weirdo, Wes,” he said, shaking his head at me.

“Takes one to know one,” I said, flipping him off. “Let’s do this.”

“Okay. Let’s just—yeah,” said Zeb. He knelt down next to me. Carefully he pressed the bottom of my pecs with the heel of his hands, kneading the muscles up toward my collarbone.

“Holy fuck, Zeb,” I groaned, my nips spurting dollops of pec-juice as Zeb’s farmer-boy hands pushed past them.

“That okay, man?” he grinned, giving an extra shove in the middle of my pecs.

“So fucking—uh—nice, dude, shit,” I moaned. “It’s like—fuck, it’s like a full-body orgasm, bro. Fuck!” And props to Zeb, he didn’t slow down even after I said something weird like that, just kept rolling his palms across my pecs, his pink tongue between his teeth as he massaged the muscle. My dick was raging in my shorts but all the sensation was dominant in my pecs, it felt like my chest was like one huge cock and I was getting the biggest, most intense hand job of my life. I was nearly out of my mind by the time Zeb got up to my shoulders, and that was just with one fucking pass over my chest.

Zeb pulled away and I gasped, my nips streaming now. “That all right, dude?” he said.

“Fucking don’t stop, Zeb,” I said, grabbing his forearms and yanking him over the top of me, putting his big hands over my needy pecs. “Milk me, dude, it fucking rocks,” I growled.

Zeb swallowed but he grabbed my sopping pecs in both hands, squeezing hard, and my whole body arced like I’d touched a live wire or something, my dick jamming up so hard in my shorts I felt the elastic on my briefs strain. “Fucking yeah,” I babbled. “Fucking yeah, Zeb,” and the next thing I knew I was squeezing his wrists greedily as he squeezed my pecs like they were those stress balls, my nips fucking fountaining down my front.

“More, man,” I said, pulling on his forearms. “Fucking more.”

“It’s kind of a weird angle,” he said. Maybe if I—”

I didn’t even give him time to finish his sentence before I had my hands on his waist and was hauling him over my stomach. He barely had time to fold his legs under on either side of my hips when my nips suddenly shot off two twin squirts of chest cum right into my Zeb’s cute, snub-nosed face. He stared at me for a second, my pec juice running down his cheeks and into his open mouth.

“Jesus, Zeb, sorry,” I managed, writhing underneath him. “That’s not even my climax, I—unngh—” Another bolt of pleasure rocked my body and my nips went off again, spurting their hot gravy across his face again as I tried to get him to keep mashing my pecs with his hands by pulling on his wrists. Meanwhile my hips were running on their own program, slamming my now aching dick into the seat of his shorts and wriggling into the warm crack of his ass, so desperate to rub against something that it didn’t even register to me that I was humping my roommate’s ass. But I guess we’d probably crossed a bigger line than that, right?

Through the haze of the fuck-need running through every pore of my body I could see Zeb was still staring at me, all my stuff dripping off his nose and chin and eyebrows, and even though what I really cared most about was his squeezing hands on my chest and the weirdly perfect way the hard rod of my cock was slotting into the clothed crease of his ass, it still was making my stomach flip-flop seeing him look at me like he was trying to work out something about me that was—I dunno, maybe almost as sexed up as I was feeling? If I was capable of speech by that point I would have asked him if he was doing all right, but all I could do was moan as I watched him drip and bounce slightly as my hips uselessly tried to drive my cock up into him.

“Jesus, Wes,” was what he said. “That fucking tastes—dude—”

“S-sorry,” I managed. “I—fuck—aaaaugh—” He suddenly started kneading my pecs again, harder this time, and his fingertips flicked past my streaming nips and I felt like I was blacking out with pleasure, my whole torso shaking with the power of the spasms wracking my whole body.

“Fuck, nothing to apologize for,” he grunted as his fingers dug into the thick mass of my muscles, his tongue sweeping his lips. “I mean—it’s weird but—I just wanna—”

The next moment he was fucking lying down on top of me, latching his mouth around my quivering right pec, and I fucking saw pure white as my whole body responded to his hot mouth sealing over my nipple. My hand snapped to the back of his head so fast it felt like a fucking reflex, smashing his cute little snub nose into the slab of my chest as my other hand slapped down to hold his ass tight, pressing his crotch to mine and only barely registering that under his gym shorts Zeb was as hard as I was. My whole body acting on instinct, I rolled over so that Zeb was crushed underneath me, my hand holding his busy mouth hard against my pec as I slipped into a sudden fuck-rhythm, not caring at all that all the layers of clothes between our cocks kept me from really slicking him down with my cock-snot like my mindless, jerking, fuck-obsessed body suddenly wanted to. My free pec was spurting constantly now, coating both of us in a thick glaze of sex juice as Zeb guzzled from the other tap, and then all of a sudden he did something with his tongue that I think short-circuited me completely, because I just started pounding my hips into him like I was trying to hammer him through the floor, and my chest fucking exploded with cream, till Zeb was having to come up for air around all the chest-cum flooding out of me, and I felt my cock go off in my jockeys and for some reason that wasn’t even the end of it, I just kept banging my soaking shorts against his hips and dumping my pec milk down his throat until suddenly he started whining and squirming underneath me and I felt the bloom of his own hot cum, even through both our sperm-soaked shorts.

I managed to pull myself up into a push-up pose over him, breathing hard and soaking and sticky with sex juice, my muscles twitching and every edge of my body drooling fluid. Zeb dropped off my nipple onto the carpet, and I’d cum enough that the carpet squelched where he landed. Zeb himself was fucking drenched, his blond hair plastered to his face, his face all fuck-dazed and wet.

“Shit, Zeb,” I gasped. “Happy Plaaka-Plaaka. Sorry.” Then I collapsed onto the soaked carpet beside him, the only part of my brain not crashing praying fervently that I was just falling asleep and not dropping dead of exhaustion.

 

Day 3: Maarkeilscaant

I woke up the next morning to the sounds of an argument.

“Dude, I said he’s sleeping,” said Zeb’s voice. “C’mon, he’s going through something right now, so maybe just leave him alone, yeah?”

I couldn’t hear the response. Blinking, I looked around. I was lying on the couch, naked but covered by one of the extra blankets we have around. I felt—great. Like I’d just had the best lay of my life, you know that glowy feeling you get the day after? Of course the “lay” was me getting myself off in my shorts against my li’l stud roommate, giving him a hands-free cum too while he sucked on my streaming pecs like a starving bull calf—

I felt a stir in my groin and my heart rate started keying up. No way, Wes, I told myself firmly. You’ll fucking lose your mind. Last night was a black hole. Forget it and focus on today.

Blinking in the sunlight coming in through the window, I pulled down the blanket enough to check if my pecs were still—well, you know. They were just as fat as ever, still big enough I couldn’t really see past them very well. My nipples looked a little redder, but otherwise there didn’t seem to be any change. Carefully, I stroked the edges of the muscle slabs, expecting the mind-blowing sensitivity they’d had yesterday, but all I got was a sweet little tingle rippling through the muscle and perking up my nips. I slid my thumb over the knob of the left one and caught my breath. They were definitely still hardwired to go off, but they’d need more than just a brush or two. Fuck, I might even be able to wear a shirt without dumping a chest-load into it three minutes after putting it on. I forced myself to pull my thumb away and a single drop of the clear pec-pre glittered on it in the morning sunlight.

“Okay,” I said, looking at my thumb. “Okay, that’s manageable.”

The argument Zeb was having got louder, even though I couldn’t hear what was going on. I wrapped myself in the blanket and got off the couch, my head swimming as I stood. The room felt—further away, somehow, or maybe it was that the corners of the ceiling felt closer. I shook my head. The sound of the argument was coming from the front door, so I headed down the hall toward it.

I caught sight of Zeb standing at the door and stopped for a moment, just looking at him. I wasn’t letting my mind go back to how perfectly his body had bridged between my cock and my nips or anything, but there—was something different about him. He was still just Zeb, I mean, but it seemed like there were little changes. The tee he was wearing sort of hung off his pecs in a different way, highlighting the muscle tone of his torso and delicately brushing the blond-fuzzy place at the bottom of his abs with the bottom hem, and his ass—well, I wasn’t sure if his shorts were just riding the curve of his ass a bit lower than usual or if my li’l buddy’s butt was—fuller. Fatter. Juicier.

I caught myself thinking about the thing I wasn’t thinking about that morning, and cleared my throat. Zeb kind of jumped and looked over at me.

“Shit, is that him?” said the voice on the other side of the door. “Let me talk to him, man.”

“Hey, Wes,” said Zeb, actually putting up a hand to stop the guy at the door from talking. “You—you doing okay?”

“I’m doing great,” I said. I probably should have put some clothes on before greeting visitors, but for all that my brain was trying to shut down the reminder of Zeb moaning in my arms, I was feeling fucking studly that morning for the cum I had last night. So I sauntered over the door, the blanket cinched up around my hips.

I took a good look at who was standing outside and snorted with laughter. “The hell, dude,” I said.

Vic was standing on the other side of the screen, dolled up in what I knew was his prime chick-magnet clothes, all designer stuff and tight in the chest and shit. He was fucking holding a little bouquet of white roses and from the way his face changed when he saw me I could tell he was aiming for maximum smolder.

“Dude,” he said, his voice all butter. “You doing okay?”

I glanced at Zeb who didn’t even try to hide the roll of his eyes.

“Yeah—I’m doing fine, Vic,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “Still—um, still recovering. O’Brien pissed about me missing?”

Vic was staring at me, his gaze zeroing in on my pecs. “He’s—he’s not happy, man, but he’s dealing.”

“Sweet,” I said. “Thanks for going to bat for me, man.”

“Oh, man, yeah—” he said, making eye contact, though I could tell the pull of gravity for him was still a bit more south. “Of course, man, I got your back. I’m your bro, dude.”

Zeb made a sound I’d never heard him make before, kind of a cross between a snort and a growl, almost like he was pissed himself about Vic being there radiating maximum Vic-vibes all over the doorstep. That made me feel a little gooey in the pit of my stomach—in a good way, I mean—but that shit was a little too close to the stuff I wasn’t gonna let take my mind apart, so I focused back on Vic.

“What is this, dude?” I said with a grin, nodding at the roses. “You opening a florist shop or some shit?”

“Oh, man, sorry,” said Vic. “They’re for you, man. You know—for—get well flowers, shit, I dunno.”

I blinked at him.

“Dude, don’t look like that,” said Vic, his too-cool-for-school look falling a bit. “I didn’t know what to do for you. And chicks like it, so I thought maybe—” His eyes drifted down to my pecs. “I mean, you still got them, man. I thought maybe I’d dreamed it.”

“I’m not a chick, bro,” I growled, fighting the urge to pull the blanket up over my pecs. “Get out of here with that shit.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Wes, Jesus,” said Vic, actually stamping his foot like an angry toddler. “Just—man, I was hoping I could—you know, just check them out…” His voice died down as he saw my expression, then he scowled. “Fuck, you let him fucking suck you, dude! I thought I was at least as much your bro as he is. I didn’t get more than a—a touch—”

“Dude, you fucking told him?” I said, turning to Zeb, resisting the urge to scream. Guess my brain wasn’t going to be able to black out last night after all. Fuck, what was going on with dudes around me?

Zeb went all kinds of red but he stuck out his chin. “He fucking wouldn’t leave, man, I thought it would freak him out.”

“It is freaky, dude,” said Vic, snorting through his nostrils as he stared daggers at Zeb. “What, are you so—small—you need daddy Wes to feed you before bed?” He switched into a singsong. “Please give me your fucking pec milk daddy Wes, baby Zebby needs it—

Zeb folded his arms, his blue eyes going all ice like it does before he’s ready to give someone a good belt across the mouth. “You wanna get creamed over this, Candreva?” he growled.

“Dude, all I want to do is check that my main man is good,” said Vic, his eyes sliding back to me. “I’m being a bro, here. Wes’s best bro.” He gave me a high beam with his big brown eyes. “Tell him, man.”

Zeb glanced at me, still scowling but with a curve of uncertainty in his fat bottom lip. Both sets of eyes bored into me as I stood there looking back and forth between them, trying to figure what the everloving hell was going on.

“The fuck, dudes,” I said at last. “It is way too early for this shit. You want to have a pissing contest on the front doorstep, that’s cool and all but—fuck.” I ran my hand through my hair. “The last few days have been weird enough for me without having to deal with—” I waved my hand in the air between them—“whatever this is. So I’m gonna go have a piss of my own and you two can fucking fight or whatever it is you want to do, and when I get back I want you back to being my regular dudes, okay? You’re fucking freaking me out right now. And—Jesus, lose the goddamn flowers, Vic. I’m not your fucking side piece. Okay?”

Zeb looked for a second like he wanted to keep scowling, but after a brief struggle his face fell. “Sorry, dude,” he said.

“Yeah, I’m sorry too,” said Vic.

“Whatever,” I said, turning around and striding down the hall. “Be normal when I get back, Jesus fuck—”

Which I guess was kind of an asshole thing to say, especially to Zeb, but—c’mon. I was fucking stressed, and the two of them acting like they were ready to throw down, like I was the prize in some fucking buck mating season, wasn’t helping at all.

I didn’t bother closing the bathroom door, since it doesn’t face the door or anything, and I kicked off the blanket as I stepped over to the toilet. I caught a look at myself in the mirror as I passed, and stopped for a second. I wasn’t completely sure, but it looked a little like I’d grown a bit more overnight, nothing too startling, but my shoulders looked beefier than they’d done before, and my arms were definitely thicker, the muscles showing more clearly under my skin. My biceps nestled snugly against the spread of my pecs, looking bulky even without me needing to flex. Yesterday my pecs had looked a little overgrown on my frame, but now they seemed balanced with the rest of me, though I knew I’d still get a lot of stares if I went out in public—and there was no way in hell I had any shirts that were going to contend with the size of my chest. My arms, either, I thought as I let myself flex them and watched the thick muscles squirm into place.

Fuck, I was a stud. No wonder I was feeling cockier than usual. And where my eyes met my reflection in the mirror felt a good few inches higher on the glass than normal.

“Shit, I think I’m taller,” I said as I stepped away from the mirror to the toilet—mostly to myself, but loud enough so that Zeb and Vic could hear it from the hallway. “What a—fucking thing.”

But I didn’t feel too bad about it, you know? I even put my hands behind my head as I let my piss hit the toilet bowl. I mean, shit, I could be coming apart if I wanted to, because things were definitely skewed weird, but with my pecs calming down a half step the other changes weren’t so awful. I mean, I was fucking huge and rocking some seriously sexy pecs that felt like two huge cockheads when you got them going, and if every time I woke up I was beefier and hotter, it’s not like that was something to fucking cry over, right?

I closed my eyes as the sound of twin streams of piss filled the bathroom. Sure, I could worry about being on my way to being possessed by some freaky-ass Midwestern fertility dude with a thing, apparently, for turning my totally straight buddy Zeb into a—fuck, whatever he was to me after last night, a nipple-suck buddy? a friend with hot mouth benefits?—but hell, rolling with the punches sounded like a lot less of a pain, and besides, there had to be something good in this whole fucking weird situation if it introduced me to that clever way Zeb’s tongue attacked my aching left—

I stopped thinking suddenly, the smile I was wearing sliding off my face. Twin streams??

I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling. My hot piss was running normally out my dick—wasn’t it? Very normal feeling, happened every day, right? Nothing going on there. Maybe—maybe a little more intense, the temperature and the feeling of fluid draining out of me. Not more intense, exactly. More like—more.

“Shit,” I said. “Oh, shit, shit, shit.” Very slowly, I forced my eyes downward. The curve of my huge pecs made it difficult to see much of my body below them, but if I bent over a bit I could get a good view of my dick as my piss finished up—

“Holy FUCK!” I howled, bolting out of the bathroom so fast I nearly tripped on the blanket on the floor. I barreled back out into the hallway where Zeb was talking with Vic, still looking like he’d prefer to knee him right in the nuts but he’d decided not to do it yet.

Zeb, what the fucking fucking hell, man?” I bellowed at him.

Zeb looked at me, his face going white. Vic stuck his head through the door and his mouth actually dropped, like he was in a bad movie or something.

I stared back at them, and then pointed at my crotch, as if they hadn’t fucking got the punchline already.

Growing out of my dark tangle of pubes were two fat cocks, nestled together at the base and hanging down next to each other over a set of balls that were definitely more of a handful than they’d been yesterday. The dicks were perfect copies of each other, a good six inches apiece, soft—which they fucking were, considering how freaked out I was—but there were definitely two of them, swinging away like a pair of socks hung out to dry.

“They’re both fucking cut, Zeb!” I shouted, though I know it wasn’t the main thing to focus on. But fuck—you wake up with two dicks and see how logical you are. “How the hell did I grow another cut dick?? Explain that to me, man!”

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Zeb and Vic got me to the couch and threw the blanket back over me, and Vic poured me a shot of tequila to calm me down, considered, then poured one for himself and Zeb.

“Shit, man, what am I gonna do, Zeb?” I said. “This is going too fucking far, dude.”

“Lemme think, man,” said Zeb, pacing. “It’s Maarkeilscaant today, that’s—hmm, gifts, daankasheed, the dance—shit, I don’t remember anything about double dicks—”

“Holy fucking shit, man,” I said, taking a second shot when Vic handed it to me. “Your commune didn’t have a double dick day?? Well, maybe I just grew it on my fucking own, then, huh? This has to be the Haasenpfaapeer, man!” I downed the shot and took a breath. “Right?”

“I told you, I’m thinking, bro,” said Zeb. “Try to breathe, man, okay?”

I scowled at him but switched automatically into the breathing exercises we do on the force, for when you’re trapped in a burning building or the stairs you’re carrying someone down starts to go. Not the same exact sort of stressful situation, I know, but—hell, at least it worked. My heart rate started slowing and a warm calm settled over me.

Vic settled down on the couch beside me and we watched Zeb pace for a few moments. After four back-and-forths, Vic leaned over to me and murmured, “I don’t know what the hell is going on, dude.”

I snorted. “Whatever it is you think it might be, it’s fucking well beyond that, man. It’s like being in a goddamned horror movie.” I took a deep breath and lifted the blanket. My dicks were just sitting there normally, like there’d always been two of them. I suddenly realized I didn’t know which one was my original cock and which one was the copy. Or had my dick sort of—split down the middle and then regrown? Or was my real sick somewhere else, and these were the Haasenpfaapeer’s fucking dicks just pretending to be mine?

Hold it together, Wes, I thought. Doesn’t fucking matter right now.

“Shit,” said Vic, staring down under the blanket next to me. “At least you’re set for life if you wanna do porn, dude.”

I dropped the blanket quickly and glared at him. “Jesus, Vic!” I snapped.

He shrugged, a smile playing around his lips. “Just saying, man.” His smile turned into a smirk as his eyes traveled down the side of my neck. “Chicks are gonna be all over you, man.”

“It’s getting turned around, Vic,” I half said, half snarled. “Zeb, tell him you’re gonna turn it around.”

“I got it man, I got it,” said Zeb, waving me down.

“Dude,” said Vic, almost whispering, leaning into me. “While he’s thinking, you could let me—” He traced his hand up my huge bicep and let his fingers brush the side of my pec.

“Not cool, Vic,” I said, shrugging him off. “You’re fucking married, bro.”

“Man, I’ve been thinking about that,” grinned Vic, still doing his sex-voice. “There’s no trouble, dude. Check it—I go to Amelia and tell her I tickled your fucking nips with my tongue, what is she gonna say? ‘You boys are so weird.’ That’s fucking it. She’s not even gonna blink, man. It’s different with a guy. Shit, you remember the last Christmas party at the station? I was in your fucking lap practically the whole time, bro, and she thought it was fucking cute. I could titty-fuck you till you came and it wouldn’t be cheating, man, just—you know—dude stuff…”

“Not convincing me, Vic,” I said.

“Fuck, bro,” he breathed into my neck, not listening. His hand slid back up my arm and his fingers stroked my nip before I could stop him. “You got the—fucking manliest chest I’ve ever fucking seen, bro. Why am I fucking into it so much?”

And—shit. I meant to push him away again, I fucking did. But all the sudden I was feeling warm—so warm it was almost too hot, and I started getting that old fucking turn-on feeling burning in the pit of my stomach. It had nothing to do with Vic tickling my pec—though I felt that, and my body definitely liked it—this was something bigger and fucking…I dunno, needy. I felt the muscles of my chest tighten up as my nips quivered a little, and then my cocks started going.

Vic stopped brushing my nip as two towers rose under the blanket over my lap, slowly at first but stronger and taller as my twin cocks filled with blood. It was the most intense fucking hard-on—hard-ons—of my life, and my balls were churning so much that I swear I could feel them moving. I groaned softly as my pricks fought against the fabric of the blanket, their engorged heads shoving through the folds as they fought to stand straight up. From time to time my cocks would rub against each other as they grew, and fuck that was like when you touch two wires together—my whole body jolted and I saw nothing but pure sex for a half-second, grunting mindlessly as I squirmed with the sensation.

“Zeb…” I managed, biting my lip in a moan. “Something’s—happening…”

He stopped pacing and spun around, taking in my heaving chest and the obscene two-tenter under the blanket. “The fuck?” he said. “This—oh shit.” His eyes went wide. “What—what time is it?” He dug his phone out of his pocket.

“Two o’cock, by the looks of it,” grinned Vic. I stared at him, panting, and his face fell. “Sorry, dude, trying to cut the tension,” he mumbled.

“It’s eleven here, that means noon at—oh my Goddenspaater,” said Zeb, running his fingers through his hair till it stood up in all directions. “This is—this is Aaleshaaft, I think, which means that—oh, fuck, Wes, I’m fucking sorry—”

The warm feeling coursing through me had now officially switched over to hot, and my cocks were aching with need—my nips too, every breath I was taking mankind them shift slightly on the muscle of my pecs, and even that slight movement from below was enough to get them up like fucking pyramids. I could feel sweat drenching every pore of my skin as I squirmed under the full feeling of hot lust flowing through me like a fucking boiling river—

“Vic, dude, I think we’re gonna need to—” Zeb started, and then suddenly the river inside me peaked and I groaned, pressing back on the couch and grabbing the armrest on my right and Vic’s thigh on my left for support. My chest fucking spasmed on its own and all at once my pecs were sopping again, dripping the clear pec-pre down onto the blanket as I groaned, squeezing Vic’s till he squeaked. The pressure from heat inside me pulsed again and suddenly I jackknifed off the couch, the blanket falling off my lap as my ass drove my crotch forward, slamming my thick—fuck, was it 9-inch??—cocks into the air like I was trying to fuck a ghost.

“Holy motherfuck!” shouted Vic as I bared my duo-dongs, my heavy balls big enough that even churning-tight with the need to cum they swung in the air under my twin staffs. I banged my hips uselessly in the air for a second and then all at once I was fucking fountaining, rich creamy cum bubbling up through both dicks, the fluids coursing down the shafts and soaking my pubes and balls and thighs in thick, steamy liquid.

I threw my head back and yelled out in ecstasy as I fucking pissed cum all over the floor, my whole body rising and crashing in a fucking legendary cum that just wouldn’t fucking stop. It was like someone had rammed a firehose of cum up into me, turned it on and then walked away. I was like some sort of demented statue in Las Vegas or something, but instead of shooting water out of my mouth I was spraying down the carpet through my dick—my dicks. My whole body was locked into the joy of cumming, my feet digging mindlessly into the quickly soaking carpet, my newly grown arms tensed so rigidly I could feel the veins on them tasting the air.

“We’ve got to—dude!” squealed Zeb, diving for Vic and pulling him off the couch. “We gotta suck him, man, c’mon.”

Vic was staring at my spurting cocks with dinner-plate eyes. “Fucking shit, dude, I just wanted a feel!” he said. “Anything more is—a bit far for me, dude.”

“You fucking asshole,” snarled Zeb. He grabbed Vic by the ear and twisted till Vic wailed, going down on his knees. Zeb put his face right next to Vic’s and said, his voice shaking, “You don’t fucking deserve Wes as a bro but he’s always been fucking there for you, you stupid waste of fucking nothing, and now Wes fucking needs you and you’re gonna go all pansy on him because it’s a bit far for you?

“Shit, dude, it’s not like that,” said Vic, his wide eyes darting between my fountaining cocks and Zeb’s murderous gaze. “Just—dude, this is freaky.”

“So freak the fuck up, dude,” snapped Zeb, “and get your lips around a cock, bro. Wes needs us, you fucking—dumplaatz.” He let go of Vic’s ear and slapped the side of his head, then grabbed a handful of Vic’s shirt and hauled him bodily in front of me, not even flinching when he moved them right into the firing line of my spraying cocks. When Zeb had made sure Vic was under my left prick he let him go, grabbed the base of my right cock, and slid his mouth over the fountaining head.

“Oh, fuck,” I managed, nearly passing out at the sensation of Zeb’s hot mouth sliding down my scum-shooting staff. Almost instantly his cheeks puffed out with the cream being hosed into his mouth, but with a grunt deep in his throat he started swallowing, his tongue working the bottom of my pulsing shaft while all the cream he couldn’t swallow bubbled down his chin to soak his already sopping tee.

Vic watched Zeb slurp me down and then looked up at my spraying cock. “Okay, dude, I get it,” he said, sounding guilty. “Don’t fucking get all pissy because it takes me a while to wrap my head around it.”

“Mmm-mmph mhmm mmmgh!” said Zeb around my cock, scowling at him over his cock-stuffed mouth.

“I’m going! I’m going! Fuck,” said Vic. He grabbed the root of my left cock and carefully put his lips to the tip, the hot spunk I was spurting painting his nose and lips. He licked it tentatively and then blinked. “Holy shit, Wes,” he said, and then the next think I knew he was fucking deep-throating me, getting down even further than Zeb was, his mouth spasming as it gripped and pulled on my spraying cock.

I howled and locked my hand on the back of Vic’s head, holding him steady as I tried to pound myself deeper into him even as Zeb grabbed my flexing ass for leverage as he pushed himself down further on my right cock. My chest tensed again and my nips fucking flowed, soaking my abs and the tops of Zeb’s and Vic’s head with their cum. Wes whimpered, his nose smashed into my pubes, and his hand snaked up to hold onto my pec above his head, squeezing it until the oozing nipple was spraying long arcs across his head and back, his throat working double-time to massage my left cockhead as it unloaded straight down his gullet. Meanwhile Zeb’s fingers on my ass tightened as his own throat sealed around my length, fluttering a bit with a gag that must have fucking sucked but that Zeb somehow turned into a way to get my cock deeper into him, groaning hungrily around my staff.

We could have been there for fucking hours for all I know, just standing their locked together as I pumped into them and the hot sleeves of their mouths kept my whole body quivering and my fucking chest drooling all over them. I went to a place where I couldn’t even think—I felt like a fucking dam holding back an ocean of cum, and all I could do was stand there as it shot out my cocks and nips till I fucking lost all sense of myself and just became nothing more than a two-cocked cum dispenser. But eventually I felt a weird tingle in my taint, like someone was tazing me right between my legs, and the next minute I felt a cum-pressure stronger than I’d ever felt before rising up from my balls. My feet curled in the cum-drenched carpet and I started moaning, trying to make words but just managing to groan out “Uh! Uh! Uh!” like a fucking baby, moving my hips to let my buddies know that something big was on its way.

Vic and Zeb barely had time to unseal their throats from around my spraying cocks when suddenly I came in an explosion of cum bigger than I’d ever felt before in my life. It felt like my fucking dicks and nips were widening to make room for all the hot jizz forcing its way out of me. Zeb and Vic both got shots full in the face, and I was fire-hosing enough of the stuff that they both went completely white for a second as my dicks gunned them down, my pecs going off like spermy fireworks as I drenched my two best friends in what felt like gallons of man-cream. It went long enough that the two of them could push their hands down their pants and start jacking themselves under the cascade of cum, and from the way they bucked and caught the splashing cum coursing over them I think it didn’t take them too much to unload their own sperm into their shorts as I bathed them down with mine.

And then, all at once, the flow stopped. There were a couple of final spurts from my dicks and my nips, and then it was just the three of us standing there in the middle of the living room, dripping with a flood’s worth of cum. I let my knees buckle and I fell back wetly onto the couch.

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“It’s Maarkeilscaant, dude, it makes sense,” said Zeb when we could all talk again. Somehow, we had ended up on the cum-soaked floor, me on my back with my arms around my buddies and the two of them nestled in the crook of my arm. “There’s this thing called Aaleshaaft where the Haasenpfaapeer kind of—turns into a keg called the the swaaschenpfaapen—”

“Boooring,” said Vic, tracing his fingers around the width of the pec closest to me. “Let’s fucking suck again, that was awesome.”

“Fuck you, Vic,” said Zeb, flipping him off, and Vic laughed. “This is important, man. The Haasenpfaapeer is kind of the guy who makes the keg, but he also becomes the keg, too. See?”

“Not really, man,” I said.

“Not at all, bro,” said Vic.

Zeb frowned, and I fucking wanted to—I dunno, kiss his little concentrating face. Or cum in it again. Fuck, but we’d crossed some hefty lines over the last little bit, and the worst part was I couldn’t quite remember why the lines were so important. So Zeb sucked my pecs, and so I face-fucked my bros and hosed them down with some magic cum. Every dude had a little suck session with his roomie now and then, right?

Fuck, I know they don’t. But—you know, maybe they should.

“It’s like this,” said Zeb, hauling himself up so he could lean on my pec and look us both in the face. “The Haasenpfaapeer—that’s what Wes is turning into, kind of—he becomes the keg, because it’s a symbol of, you know, having a good time or whatever. Before the festival, everyone fills the keg with the hottesaal—fuck, the spicy beer, I don’t think you guys drink it here—and then at Maarkeilscaant they tap the keg. But the thing is, it has to be four taps, and they have to all be tapped at once, and all the men at the festival have to catch the spray before it hits the ground or it’s bad luck. You see?”

We blinked at him.

Zeb sighed. “Four taps? The Haasenpfaapeer is the keg? He sprays all the good-time stuff?”

“Geez, man,” groaned Vic. “You weirdos really can’t just trick-or-treat in October?”

“So, I was the hot beer keg right there,” I said. “Shit. Why the double-cocks?”

“Fuck, man, I don’t know about that,” said Zeb. “Maybe it’s just because the keg has four taps? I gotta call my Meema, she knows all about this stuff. But—dude, the Aaleshaaft—it happens at noon and at sunset. So, um—”

“Wait, what?” said Vic. “We get—we’re gonna have to do that again?”

“Fuck man, our carpet,” I groaned. “We’ve definitely lost the deposit, Zeb.”

“Shit, maybe it’ll be—kind of toned down,” said Zeb, biting his lip. “Since you—um—got a lot out of your system already.”

“And maybe it will be even more freaky,” laughed Vic. “Dude! I call pecs this time. You can handle the cocks on your own, right?”

I had a sudden, intense vision of Zeb’s face stuffed with both my cocks, and despite how exhausted I was I felt the roots of my dicks try to lift the heavy tubes before giving up.

“Shit, man, is there any other way I’m gonna change?” I said.

“I—dunno,” said Zeb. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, if we can put in orders, I want more of this,” laughed Vic, tweaking my nipple.

“Shit, dude, that’s sensitive, bro,” I said, squirming.

“You’re a fucking asshole, Vic,” said Zeb, glaring at him across my chest.

“Wes likes it,” smirked Vic. “Besides, you’re pretty freaky yourself, short-round. You people do this every Halloween?”

“It’s not for Helloween,” said Zeb hotly. “And no, all this is just because the Haasenpfaapeer has decided to visit Wes, usually it’s just a fucking normal festival, and it’s more than Helloween, it’s a whole week—”

“Dude, you’re lulling me to sleep,” yawned Vic. “If we have another suck session ahead, I need to build up some energy. I’m napping, bros.” He snuggled into my shoulder and started snoring dramatically.

“Dude, he’s an asshole,” said Zeb.

“He’s all right,” I said back. “Usually.”

“I can hear you even though I’m asleep,” said Vic, smiling.

“Nap’s not a bad idea,” I said. “Shit, I feel like I need to sleep for a week. Do we—fuck, do we need to set an alarm or something, do you think?”

“Um—no,” said Zeb. “I think we’ll all know when it’s starting again.”

“All right.” I settled into the carpet. “Hey, Zeb? Thanks for—you know, biting the bullet and everything.”

“He bit more than the bullet,” said Vic, his eyes still closed.

“Fucking asshole—” said Zeb.

“All right, sleep time, you fuckwads,” I said. “We can fight when we’re ready to get off again. Jesus.” I closed my eyes and squeezed the two of them to me. Fuck, I know it’s fruity and all but it felt good, being naked and cum-spent and snuggled up with my bros. Made me wonder how much I’d missed out, only fucking with women all these years.

Shit, I guess I was pretty far gone, but—hey, it wasn’t me, it was the Haasenpfaapeer, right?

I was almost fully asleep when I felt something warm close around my right cock. Opening one eye I saw Vic was holding it gently in his sleep as he breathed lightly against my shoulder. I glanced over to Zeb and saw him staring down at where Vic was holding me.

“Shit, dude,” I whispered. “You can hold the other one. If—if you want.”

“That’s weird, Wes,” he whispered back.

“It sure is,” I said. “But—you know, fuck it. If you want. I don’t mind.”

I closed my eyes again and let my muscles relax. A few seconds later, I felt the warmth of Zeb’s hand closing over my left cock. I smiled and slipped away into sleep.

 

Day 4: Flaaka-Floop

I woke up the next morning by falling off the couch.

The evening before had been—intense. We woke up from our nap all at the same time, me with my two cocks straining up hard enough to fucking tow a truck, and Zeb and Vic both seemed to be—well, charged up. It took no time at all for Vic to latch onto my chest while Zeb slobbered over my cocks, passing them back and forth between his lips so as soon as one popped out the other one slid in, growling into my crotch as Vic sucked and bit my pecs and just generally drove me out of my fucking mind. I dunno if either of them had any fleeting moments of wondering where all this left our being straight and all, or even just our new fucking status as buddies, but if I had any of those thoughts they got pretty well drowned out by the stars I kept seeing as I moaned and bucked on the floor under their lapping tongues. I had no fewer than four earth-shattering cums, one right after the other, and by the end of it the three of us—and most of the living room—looked like the aftermath of an explosion in a donut glaze factory.

Not good for the walls, I bet, but—well, what the fuck can you do, when it’s Haasenpfaap?

I got up from the floor, wondering what had happened. I stood up and the top of my head almost brushed the ceiling. Looking down at the couch, as near as I could tell I had fallen off it because my body was just too big now to stay on top of it. Gauging myself from the furniture and height of the ceiling, I guessed I was probably seven feet tall now, maybe a little bit more. My pecs were just as huge as ever, and the rest of me was filled out too—long thick arms, hefty thighs, cocks—fucking huge. I blinked as I looked down at myself. The heavy mushroom heads were lightly brushing the tops of my knees, and with my new size, that meant I was probably—fuck, how many inches? I couldn’t do math at the moment, because I was sensitive enough that even the air around my cocks felt like a very subtle mouth going to town on the footlong beefsticks. Li’l Wes Juniors perked up a bit with me paying attention to them, and I felt the back of my knees go a little weak. Fuck, I was going to have to be careful with these hair-trigger dongs—they were like freaking weapons.

I ducked out of the living room and into the kitchen and found Vic there, shirtless and having some cereal. “Dude, you’re up,” he said, grinning at me. “Did you notice anything different?”

“Shit, I’m huge, bro,” I said, scratching my pec absentmindedly, then forcing my hand down when the sensitive flesh of my pecs made both my nipples and my cocks stiffen slightly. Fuck, it was like I was wearing a bodysuit of nerve endings. A massage would probably put me in the hospital. “Did I grow last night?”

“Must have,” grinned Vic, chewing on his cereal. “We woke up and you were like that. Getting off you was like climbing Mount Everest.” His eyes slid over my naked body. “Well, if Mount Everest was a fucking sex stud, I mean.”

“Get out of here with that, Vic,” I said. “Keep it together, okay? I’ll freak out if you go all gay on me.”

“But dude, I must have,” said Vic. “Gone gay, man, I mean. Or bi, or fluid, or whatever the fuck. Been reading about it.” He flashed his phone at me. “Apparently, it can happen.”

“Bullshit,” I said. “That’s just some gay guys’ pipe dream. C’mon, man.”

“So, you explain why I’m into you all at once, bro,” said Vic, shrugging. “I fucking drank your man-milk, dude. All day yesterday. How is that a thing, if I’m not gay now?” He looked me up and down again, lingering on my cocks, then shook his head. “Dude, how’s my ass? I know that’s big with gay dudes.” He stuck his ass out and raised his eyebrows.

“Fuck, man, too much to deal with,” I said, but—fuck, I looked, and I swear his ass was—more than usual, somehow. Probably I was just noticing it more, but his pants and belt were now cinched up over the curve of his globes, leaving a tiny gap right over his ass-crack, and the lighting in the kitchen shone down that gap just enough to give the slightest impression of the part in his ass. All I’d have to do is work a finger down between his skin and that inviting opening and I’d be right up in his most vulnerable, intimate—

I cleared my throat and forced myself to look at the stove. “Where’s Zeb, dude?”

“Ran out to get some stuff,” said Vic. “He’s been on the phone with his mama for a while. Apparently we’re taking a road trip.”

“A road trip?” I said. “Where the hell would we go?”

Vic shrugged. “Search me.” He blinked then grinned and bit his bottom lip. “You—wanna search me, bro?”

“I swear to God, Vic,” I said, clenching my fists.

“I’m just saying, Wes,” said Vic, strutting over to me. Fuck, but if he had gone gay, he was a quick study. “That noise you made the second time you unloaded into my mouth last night—fuck. If that wasn’t enough to turn a guy guy, nothing is.”

“It’s just Zeb’s fucked up cult, man,” I said, still staring at the stove.

Vic was up close to me now, and for a second I was worried he would grab me or something and I’d switch into animal mode and just—fucking pound him to oblivion, right then and there. I dug my fingernails into my palms to keep my cocks from standing straight up, but they were definitely interested, blood pulsing along the footlong-plus lengths of both of them.

Vic suddenly paused, looking confused. “Dude, are you—is that—did you fucking put on some cologne when you woke up?”

“Of course I fucking didn’t,” I said, digging in with my fingernails. “What are you talking about, bro?”

“You just smell—dude,” he said. “You know how the locker room at the station smells after a good run? Smoky, sweaty—” he took a deep breath—“sexy?”

I haven’t gone gay, dude,” I said. “The locker room smells like B.O., bro.” I lifted my arm and sniffed at my pit. “Nothing, dude. Your nose must be broken.”

“Holy fuck,” said Vic, stepping back like I’d just sprayed him with something. “Holy fucking fuck.” He whimpered, his left hand making a fist against his left pec while his right hand massaged the bulge in his pants.

I stared down at him. “Dude,” I said.

“Shit, man, that smell,” he moaned. “Fuck, you really can’t smell it?”

“No,” I said. “You’re freaking me out, Vic.”

“I—” Vic blinked. “Shit, dude, I just—fuck!”

He turned around, trying to see his back by craning his head. The pants stretched over his ass now had a damp line down the back, soaking through—almost as if his ass were dripping with—what? I couldn’t think of anything good, but for whatever reason the sight of his wet pants got the old snakes stirring again. I leaned forward, looking at that gap at the top of his globes again, and the faintest whiff of something hit my nostrils.

“Oh, fuck, I think I can smell it,” I said. “But it’s not coming from me—it’s you, dude. And it doesn’t smell like B.O., it’s like—fuck, it smells like you’re fucking ready—” That wasn’t what I’d meant to say at all, but even as I said it I realized it was true.

“Fuck, Wes, it’s definitely coming from you, man,” he said, pulling on his pants. “I’m fucking slick now, what the hell is this?” He looked up at me, his eyes huge. “Is this what it’s like to be a gay dude, bro? My asshole is fucking—hot, and, like—hungry? It feels so weird.”

“Fuck if I know, Vic,” I panted. “Here, let me look—” I let my huge finger slide into that small gap between his waistband and his ass and pressed slightly so it buried a few millimeters into the plump cleavage of Vic’s ass. My pricks were lifting their heavy heads in interest, and Vic groaned as my fat finger slid down toward the hot, wet center of his asscrack.

The front door banged open and Vic and I jumped apart. Zeb came into the room, carrying some shopping bags.

“What’s going on?” he said, looking back and forth between me and Vic.

For a second I thought about making up some story—you know, it felt a little weird to be basically copping a feel of Vic’s asshole just because it started oozing something that smelled fucking choice like that, but Vic just dove right into it.

“Dude!” he said. “Wes has got some sort of weird stink going on, and it’s making me leak, bro.” He turned around and showed Zeb his wet seat.

“Oh, shit,” said Zeb. “I worried this would happen. Lemme see—” He stepped up to me and sniffed carefully. The next second he backed up, dropping his bags as he grabbed his ass. “Holy shit, dude, that’s potent!” he said.

“What’s going on, man?” I said.

“Shit, man, it’s fucking Flaaka-floop!” he said. “On Flaaka-floop, the Haasenpfaapeer goes around—um, getting everyone ready for Haasenpfaap Vaal Baasenfaast.” He wriggled his ass, grimacing. “Fuck, it’s so warm, man.”

“Dude, feels weird, right?” said Vic.

“Zeb, my man,” I said, and I think I was pretty fucking calm, considering, “can you tell me what’s going on, in English?”

Zeb went red. “It just means, dude, that anyone around you is going to—um—get ready. For the—um. The fertility ritual tomorrow.”

There was a quiet moment. Then I said, probably pretty menacingly—“Dude. I just got you fuckers wet for me?”

Zeb bit his lip. “Or—you know. Anyone.”

I groaned and sat down on one of the stools running along the counter, which creaked under me. “Fucking hell, Zeb—”

“Dude, I’m on it,” said Zeb. “I talked to my Meemaa this morning and she knows how to turn this—all of this—around. But the thing is, we have to go to where I grew up. There’s a way to—invite the Haasenpfaapeer to go, it’s just, you have to have someone around.”

“Sweet, I call shotgun,” said Vic.

Zeb glared at him. “We don’t need you, Vic,” he said.

“Aw, c’mon,” said Vic, flashing him a brilliant smile. “I’m rubbing off on you, dude, you know it. Besides, you don’t let me come and I’ll let every one of Wes’s friends know the sound you made while you were gargling his dick last night. It went like this—” Vic started making a high-pitched, needy moan that did actually sound pretty familiar.

“I got some shit on you too, Vic,” snarled Zeb. “How did Wes’s nips taste, huh?”

“Pretty tasty,” said Vic with a steely glint in his eyes. “Too bad you’re too short to reach his nipples and dick, huh? Guess Wes could use someone around who has, y’know, range—”

“Motherfucker—”started Zeb, puffing out his chest.

“For fuck’s sake, dudes,” I said. “Vic can come. Zeb drives, I have shotgun, and for the love of all that’s fucking holy can we just go? I want to stop being the Hassen possen pa what the fuck ever. Okay?”

Vic grinned at Zeb, who was still scowling. “Fine,” he said. “But first we’re gonna have to get you dressed.”

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

It turned out the shopping bags Zeb had with him were filled with clothes. He’d gone to the big and tall store to pick out some extra-extra large stuff for me, so we didn’t get pulled over for indecent exposure the minute we got on the highway. I had to try on a few things before we found something that worked—a 3XL tank top that clung to my torso and barely contained my hefty pecs, and a pair of shorts that were supposed to be baggy but clung to my thighs so tight I was a little worried about cutting off the circulation. He’d also picked up some enormous jockstraps—so huge they could have doubled as fucking catapults—but even still it required two of them to contain the mass of dickflesh and balls in my crotch. It’s super hard to put on two jocks at the same time when you can’t see past your own pecs very well, so in the end I had to have Vic and Zeb help me into them. The two of them being right next to me with the musk I was putting out set off their new hair-trigger butt-slicks, and then the smell of that got me going, and in the end we had to have a really quick blow session, with the two of them going up and down on the ends of my cocks until I emptied into their throats and we had a quick moment to tuck my softening cocks into the jocks before all the smells could get them hard again.

I folded myself into the passenger side of Zeb’s car. Fortunately Zeb’s like a lot of short guys who get themselves a sports utility car to balance things out, so it wasn’t as bad if we’d tried to take my car. Vic slid into the back seat and we set off toward Zeb’s hometown, which was about a six hour drive away.

It wasn’t too long in the car, however, before I started smelling the two of them, a hot meaty smell that went straight to the root of my cocks. “Shit, dudes, are you leaking?” I said. “Fuck, I’m not sure my jocks are gonna be able to take it if you’re oozing all over the place on me.

“Can’t fucking help it, man,” said Zeb through gritted teeth. “The whole car smells like you.”

“I’m fucking sliding around back here, bro,” said Vic helpfully from the back seat. “Dude, you got insurance for upholstery damage on this thing, Zeb? My—what, man-pussy?—is gonna start painting down the seat in a second here.” He unclicked his seatbelt and suddenly turned around, waving his ass in the space between the seat between us. “Look, bros, it’s a fucking fountain.”

“Holy fuck, Vic!” shouted Zeb as I groaned. The hot scent was suddenly strong in my nostrils and it was all I could do to punch my seat down and tackle Vic, even though there was zero room for it. My cocks ached in my jocks, pushing against the fabric till it looked like I was trying to smuggle two salamis in my shorts.

“Fuck, bro, you fucking can’t,” I said, grabbing him by the belt loop and forcing him back into his seat. “You got me—oh, Jesus—” My pecs suddenly spasmed and the next thing I knew the front of my skin-tight tank was sopping with pec pre, the nipples so hard they looked ready to punch through the stretched, wet fabric.

“Oh, my fucking Plaatersgodde,” shouted Zeb as he suddenly swerved, the car swinging back and forth and sending me and Vic crashing against the door.

“Sorry, man,” said Zeb when we’d righted again, wiping a shaking forearm across his sweating forehead. “Just—that added to the smell, man. Is adding. Fuck, this isn’t gonna work unless we can find a—gas mask—or something.”

“Look, we’ll roll down the windows,” I said. I punched the window buttons down and all at once the car filled with thundering wind, blowing through us. The extra strain and feel of cooling pre kept my chest a hairsbreadth from cumming again, but the smells of the three of us at least weren’t causing us to shift into fucking orgy mode.

I felt sane enough that I could lean over to Zeb and shout, “I hope that the smell isn’t going out into the road! Can you imagine what would happen to all the cars behind us?”

Zeb grinned at me. “Fuck, man, that would be hilarious. Dudes just driving along and suddenly being like, why am I fucking wet—” He glanced in the rear view mirror and did a double-take. “Fucking hell, Vic,” he groaned.

I turned around. The wind tunnel we’d created by opening the windows was blowing all the air past me and Zeb and right into Vic’s face. My handsome buddy had somehow stripped off his pants without us seeing, and was staring blankly ahead, his mouth hanging open and his eyes glassy. His legs were bent up to the ceiling and he’d scooted down into the middle of the seat between us, baring his dark-furred asshole that was glistening with sex drool. Vic’s hands were busy up in his crack, plunging his grasping pink asshole desperately as he moaned mindlessly. His thick cock was on full display between his thighs, straining against his abs and pulsing.

“We’re gonna get pulled over, man,” shouted Zeb to me.

“What do you want to do?” I shouted back to him. “We can’t roll the windows up.”

“Just—deal with it, dude,” said Zeb. “Fuck!”

I leaned back and grabbed Vic’s thrown-off pants and tried draping them over him to mask Vic’s bare bottom and busy hands. It didn’t really work, because every time I balanced the pants Vic’s finger-fucking would knock them off again. Finally I snorted in annoyance and knocked Vic’s hands away, throwing the pants over him and then pressing my own finger up against Vic’s pulsing backdoor. Vic immediately moaned and his hands went down to his side, keeping the pants in place. He began pushing his asshole against my fingertip, whimpering.

“Shit, man, I think I’m gonna have to—finger-jam him,” I shouted at Zeb.

Zeb glanced at me and scowled. “Man! Really?”

“It’s the only way he’s gonna stay still!” I shouted. The angle wasn’t good to finger-fuck Vic turned around, so I straightened in my seat and twisted my arm around, letting my middle finger slide backward up into Vic’s wet, needy crack. He moaned again and his asshole fucking nipped at my finger, pulling on my fingerprint with his hot, slick asslips.

“Holy fuck, here we go,” I said. “Jesus Christ.” I began plunging into my buddy’s asshole, watching the road as I did, my nipples back up and streaming under the wind and the hot assmouth taking more and more of my finger behind me.

I got into him all the way past the second knuckle—which, with my new size, was not a small amount, so props to Vic who had to be an ass virgin, right?—when Vic started massaging my finger with his ass muscles, pumping his thighs together to mash his hot wet muscle against my finger, engulfing and pulling on it as he squirmed on the back seat.

I was just wondering if my arm was starting to cramp when Vic’s moaning suddenly turned needier, and he began slamming himself onto my finger, hard enough that his thrusts made splatting sounds loud enough to be heard in the wind-tunnel of the car. “Holy shit!” I said as Vic ground himself down against my hand, my thick finger caught solidly in the hot, tight embrace of his smooth asshole.

Zeb glanced in the rear-view mirror and the car swerved again. Vic’s head swayed loosely on his head but he didn’t stop clamping me with his finger, squeezing so hard it felt like he was trying to snap my finger off and keep it for himself. Zeb hit the side of the road as he straightened out the car, and the bounce that juddered through the car was enough to set Vic off and he wailed as his cock suddenly blew, shooting long hot white ropes up his muscular chest as his ass desperately squeezed my finger in wave after wave of orgasmic spasms.

Vic came for almost a minute straight, making noises like a dreaming dog as he rode the crests of cum that slowly stopped spurting out of him and finally just oozed down his cock and balls to mingle with the puddle of sex-goo he’d leaked from his ass-pussy. At last he slumped back on the seat and the fist of his asshole went slack, and the next thing I knew my finger was sliding out of him and Vic was snoring, his head bouncing gently on the back seat headrest.

I held up my sex-coated finger and looked at it. It smelled—it smelled amazing, and it was all I could do to keep from slurping it into my mouth to clean it off. But Zeb was doing this weird thing where he was glancing at me while he was acting like he was trying not to look at me, so I just sort of shrugged and wiped it off on my cum-soaked tank.

We drove in silence for a little while, passing out of the city and into long stretches of country where there was nothing but cornfields interspersed with tiny little towns or rest stops. For some reason I was getting the vibe that Zeb was pissed at me, but I couldn’t figure out why and I wasn’t about to say anything and make things worse. What that meant, though, was that we both were doing this middle-school thing where we’d both glance at each other when we thought the other one wasn’t looking, and then catching each other and pretending like we weren’t glancing. It sucked, but I couldn’t seem to figure out how to not do it, if you know what I’m saying.

Finally, after about two hours of doing that stupid eye dance, Zeb suddenly shouted, “I gotta pee. You cool if we make a pit stop?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Should—should be all right. Right?”

“Sure,” said Zeb, not looking at me.

We got off the highway and pulled into the next rest stop we saw, a quiet out-of-the-way place in the middle of some scrubby forested area. Zeb jumped out of the car almost the same moment he put it into park, saying, “I’ll be back, man,” over his shoulder.

I sat there in the car for a few minutes, listening to Vic snore lightly in the back seat, before I made a decision. Zeb was obviously going through something and it might have been me who got him there, so the only thing to do was man up about it and talk to him about it, right? I mean, things had been so fucking weird this last week that it would be strange for him to be totally chill, and if I was any kind of friend I should check in. So I got out of the car, my heart jumping up into my throat as I headed for the bathroom.

Zeb and I had gotten into fights before, of course. We’d been friends for fucking ever, and roommates for years, and you aren’t really close to a person if you don’t have fights, right? But I always felt—I dunno, that I’d be okay if things got really bad. Like, that we were friends but we could take a bit of a cool down if we were both really mad about something. But as I pushed open the door of the rest stop bathroom, I couldn’t help feeling like—well like maybe I’d die right there if Zeb were mad at me, or start bawling like a kid or something. I dunno, maybe it was all the sex stuff in the air, but all at once I—well, I guess I fucking needed us to be okay. Fucking needed Zeb to be okay with me. Fucking needed Zeb to be my main, main dude. Always. Needed to know he’d stick with me, because I suddenly knew I couldn’t be able to survive without him always at arm’s length.

Fuck, what I’m saying is that if I’d had a ring right then, I would have gotten down on my knees in that gross bathroom and fucking proposed, that’s how scared I was feeling. I might have been a two-cocked muscle giant, but I was so scared he might be ready to bail I felt about two feet tall and made of fucking custard.

Zeb wasn’t at the urinals, so he must have been in the cubicle. I ducked over to them and knocked on the door, my thick hand rattling the door. “Zeb, buddy?” I asked. “You shitting or something? Only I want to talk to you.”

“Hey, man,” he said, his voice sounding stressed. “Um—I’m not. Shitting.”

“Okay,” I said.

There was a little pause, and he said, “Um—what did you want to talk about?”

I swallowed. “Um, I just—dude, you pissed at me?”

He was quiet for long enough to get my heart thumping, but finally he said, “Naw, man. Not—not really.”

I let out a long burst of air I didn’t know I’d been holding. “Okay, good,” I said. “You just—you just were acting pissed.”

“Sorry, dude,” he said.

“No problem,” I said.

There was another long silence, and my heart started thumping again.

“You can be pissed at me if you want to, dude,” I said, and at the same time he said, “Are you gonna fuck him?”

“Fuck—who?” I said as soon as I realized what he’d said. “Wait—Vic?”

“Dude, he was all over you,” said Zeb. “And—you liked it, didn’t you, man?”

“I—” I said, then stopped. It had been pretty sexy, the way that Vic’s ass had gripped my finger. But that didn’t mean I was gonna go all the way with him—did it? And why did Zeb care?

“Dude, I won’t fuck him,” I said. “Honestly, I hadn’t thought of it till just this moment.”

“Great,” said Zeb.

I leaned against the steel cubicle wall, and it bent a little under my forehead. “Dude, I’m sorry I’m freaking you out so much. It’s just—all these changes. But look, your mom will change me back, and things’ll be cool again? Vic will go back to being a married asshole and you and I will go get some pussy together like the old days, yeah?”

“Sure,” said Zeb.

“C’mon, man, don’t put me off,” I said, putting my hand on the wall. “It’s me, bro, under—all this. You want me to keep Vic off me till I can get fixed, man, just say the word. I was just—trying to help. Really.” He was quiet again and I bit my lip. “Dude, c’mon, man, don’t make me beg. Be my bro, dude. Tell me what to do and I’ll fucking do it, man.”

“Just—shit, man,” said Zeb, and I swear it sounded like he was trying not to cry, which just about blew my mind right then and there. “I mean, dude—why not me?”

“Why not—” I blinked. “What?”

“I mean, shit, bro, I thought—with the stuff we’d be doing—if you were gonna—you know, go all the way on this—this fucking stuff, it’d be with—” He broke off, then his voice got angry. “Dude, we’ve been buds since I moved to the fucking city. If anyone deserves you fucking them, it’s me, man!”

“Holy shit, Zeb,” I said. “Are you—jealous?”

“Oh—fuck you, Wes,” he said. “Just leave me alone.”

I looked over at the door to the cubicle. It was as flimsy as you’d expect it to be, in a bathroom like that. So I could leave Zeb alone like he asked, or—

The next moment I wrapped my hands around the top of the cubicle door and pulled up. The door popped right off its hinges, the bolts holding it up flinging off to chime against the tiled walls. I leaned the door against the wall and stepped into the cubicle doorway, filling it. Zeb was sitting on the toilet, looking—sad? I looked down at him with a smirk.

“My buddy feeling jealous?” I said, feeling the blood start pumping into my jock-restrained cocks. “That’s not going to fly, bro. If my bro Zeb wants to be the first ass I fuck, then he’s gonna be, capiche?”

“Shit, dude, don’t be weird about it,” he said, but his face was flushing pink and a little smile was playing around his mouth. “I don’t want your pity, man.”

“Aww, too bad,” I said, stepping into the cubicle. “Because my pity is fucking turned on for my bro, dude.” And—I never would have done this before, but there in the dirty bathroom it just felt right and I leaned down and scooped Zeb up in my arms, pulling him up off the toilet until we were nose to nose, his smaller body pressed against my chest, which was warming up again to start spurting.

“Fuck, Wes,” said Zeb, swallowing. “You’re so goddamn huge.”

“Dude, if I’m fucking anyone,” I said, nuzzling his neck, “it’s gonna be my bro Zeb, you hear me? If that’s what he wants. Last I checked he was into pussy, though.”

“Shit, Wes,” Zeb moaned as my lips grazed where his neck met his shoulder. “I’ve changed as much as you have, dude.”

“Good,” I growled into his skin, and chuckled slightly when I felt him shiver in my arms. Fuck, but my bro is hot—I can’t believe I didn’t really feel it before, you know? I let my hand travel down his back and catch in the back of his shorts and growled again as I felt the movement of his cock against my abs. “Shit, bro, you really want me like that?”

Zeb bit his lip and nodded into my shoulder. “Fuck, I know it’s weird, man, but—” he gasped.

“Dude, don’t worry about that,” I said. I wrapped my hands around his ass—and my hands were big enough now they could encircle his waist, and I slid down his shorts and boxers in one movement, baring his stubby white dick in its cute little nest of pubes and his blond-furred ass in one movement. I dug my finger into his ass and was rewarded by a hot spray of sex oil, and Zeb moaned into my neck, his hips humping his dick into the underside of my pecs.

“Dude, you sure you can take me?” I whispered, letting my fingers play over his hot, dripping asslips as he moved his naked body against my pec-soaked tank. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “But—I think so. I feel—so empty, bro. I want to take every fucking inch.”

“There are—a lot of fucking inches now, dude,” I said, letting my fingers slide into a makeshift seat under his ass as I let him slide down my chest. “You gotta promise to tell me when to stop.”

He kicked off his flip-flops and then he was totally naked, a tiny little musclestud clinging to my giant torso as I eased his ass down toward my jock-trapped cocks, which were doing their best to strangle my waist, they were pulling on the waistband of the straps so hard.

“Dude,” I said in a sudden flash of inspiration. “Arms around my neck.”

He lifted his stacked arms and grabbed my thick neck, holding on tight as I let go of him. I yanked on my shorts and the jock waistband digging into my sides, at last peeling them off while Zeb swung back and forth on my torso like some kind of stud necklace, his cock rubbing up against me and his biceps flicking my nips as he did. He started laughing as I wriggled out of the shorts, but then swallowed as my horse-sized cocks slapped up against him, leaving two red marks against his round furry bubble-butt.

“Fuck that’s big, Wes,” he said, swallowing and looking up at me with his huge blue eyes.

“You don’t have to do it, man,” I said, though by now I was panting with lust and if he said he didn’t want to I was going to have to find a fucking icy ocean to jump into in order to cool down. “We can just—feel each other, bro. Or I can use my finger, like I did with Vic.”

He frowned and stuck his chin out. “No way, man. I want to at least try. I fucking am gonna be your first, Wes.”

I felt my heart flutter at that, not gonna fucking lie, and my cocks fluttered too, oozing two spurts of pre over the curve of his asscheeks. I grabbed under his ass again, lifting him up so that he cleared my swaying cocks, and then on an impulse just pulled him up further and kissed him hard. My huge tongue filled his mouth and for a moment he made surprised noises into my mouth, but then he growled and started pushing back, and for a moment we just stood there making out, my fingers dipping into his hot slick asshole as his cock rubbed against me.

“Shit, I’m gonna come just from that, bro,” I said after a few minutes of tongue-wrestling, pulling away from his mouth. “You ready for this?”

“Shit, man, I’m fucking aching for it, Wes,” he said, his eyes glassy. “Fuck dude, put it in me. Please.”

“You want the left or the right one?” I said with a grin. He snorted but before he could answer I positioned him over the top of my left one and dropped him slightly, my cockhead nestling in the hot wet crack of his ass. He gasped and looked up at me, wriggling on the head. I started lowering him and he started breathing heavy, making little moans and gasps as I buried inch after inch into him, my right cock sliding up past him to press between our two bodies, rubbing against his stubby five-incher as he sank down on the other one.

And fuck, it felt fucking mind-blowing, I’m not gonna lie. My dick—both my dicks, really—were ready to spout my entire ball’s worth right then and there just from the feeling of being inside such a fucking hot little muscle stud like Zeb. If it had been anyone else, I’d have been tempted to just let him drop, impaling on me and wearing him like a fucking ring around my enormous cock, but it was my fucking beautiful bro-buddy Zeb, looking up at me like I was rewriting his brain while I rearranged his guts with my dude staff, and I wanted to see every single micro-expression he made as the two of us became bros in the deepest, most intimate way. So I inched him down on me, every vein and nerve in my cocks aching to just slam him into oblivion, as I watched my bro get fucked for the first time and felt my heart go insane in my streaming chest with pride and lust and—fuck it, yeah, love.

Shit, man—you don’t know what it’s like to be screwing your best bro with a horse dick and seeing how brave and handsome a man can be all at the same time. If you did, you’d fall in love with him too, I swear it.

And fuck, I almost moaned with disappointment when he did finally bottom out on me, because it meant I couldn’t watch him get filled for the first time any more, even though he was panting and looking stuffed and his eyes were this half-lidded mix of lust and—fuck, but I think it was love too? I dunno.

“Shit, Zeb,” I breathed. “How the hell did you do that? Is it killing you inside?”

“Naw, man,” he panted. “I think it’s—one of the changes—of the Haasenpfaapeer. It feels—it feels—” He wriggled on my staff and I groaned. “It feels really good,” he grinned. “Shit, man, I want you in there forever.”

“I’ll stay in then,” I said, leaning over to kiss his forehead. Bending over made him shift, though, and the next moment instinct took over and I was shifting him up and down on my cock slightly, enjoying the hot slick vise of his ass that seemed to go on forever, taking my whole length as I bounced up into him. I felt my pecs tense and harden as my dicks rubbed against Zeb—one inside and one outside—and then all of a sudden my nipples burst through the strained fabric of the tank top, spurting clear hot fluid over Zeb’s blond head. The feeling of the chest-cum arced through me, and I growled loudly, slamming myself deep into Zeb as I grabbed his head and pressed it against my bared nips. Zeb latched onto my left nip as my left cock carved into him, curving his back perfectly to take my cock and keep hold of my pec with his mouth.

I slid my hand down to support Zeb’s back as he lapped at my pecs and took my fire hydrant cock as I switched over into a fuck rhythm, bracing him against the steel cubicle wall as I fucked into him, his legs going up over his head until they were braced against my huge torso, giving me even more access to his hot, drooling ass. I started fucking him hard, rattling the cubicle wall till it started working itself out of the wall, pulling out drywall and screws as I rammed my best buddy’s ass into annihilation. I was hitting something he liked down there now, because he was crying and groaning and practically meowing with lust into my pecs, which were pretty much spraying his handsome, gasping face with twin firehoses at this point, as my right cock rammed up in between our bodies and my left cock buried deep inside of him with each thrust.

My cum came all at once, my fat balls suddenly seizing up so tight it fucking ached, and then I was dumping into him, my right cock fountaining what looked like gallons over Zeb’s chest and neck and chin while the right one filled up his insides. I almost dropped him as the waves of pleasure crashed over me, catching him at the last minute before he hit the tiled floor, my cock still connected to his ass as I pumped into him. His little musclegut was expanding with the baby batter I was filling him up with, stretching far beyond what I thought was possible as my balls emptied into him. At last my cock gave its last spasm and the streams from my pecs slowed down to a dribble, and I lowered Zeb to the ground where he lay naked and spent and looking fucking pregnant with my cum for a hot moment.

I eased myself down onto the floor beside him, carefully holding up the cubicle wall, which was threatening to fall over at this point. “You good, dude?” I asked, pulling a cum-soaked lock of hair away from his forehead. “I can’t believe you took all that.”

He looked at me and gave me the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on his face. He lifted up his hand, which was shaking slightly with overstimulation, and flipped me off. “Love you, bro,” he managed.

I didn’t even hesitate—I took his finger into my mouth and gave it a good suck, feeling like the happiest two-cocked seven-foot dude in the world.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

I carried Zeb back to the car and put him in the seat, not even bothering to dress him. I’d peeled off my sopping, ruined tank top before we left the bathroom and left it hanging on the crazily leaning cubicle wall. I didn’t care if anyone else walked into the bathroom and wondered why the whole place reeked of sex and was hosed down with sticky fuck-goo. I was goddamn proud of it, to be honest. If I was in the state government, I’d insist they’d put a little placard commemorating where I took my bro-lover’s ass cherry.

I climbed into the passenger seat, rocking the car. Vic woke up with the moment, rubbing his mouth. “Shit,” he said, looking between Zeb’s cum-stuffed belly and my sopping, naked body. “What the fuck did I miss?”

Zeb and I laughed. I took Zeb’s hand as he put the car into gear and we roared off, back toward the highway and the final day of the Festival of Haasenpfaap.

 

Day 5: Haasenpfaap Vaal Baasenfaast Dikka Daak

We were about thirty minutes away from Zeb’s hometown when a policeman on a motorcycle pulled behind us and started flashing us with his lights.

“Shit, shit, shit,” said Zeb. He and Vic started frantically pulling on their shorts. There was no way I was gonna be able to get my own shorts on without help, so I spread them over my lap and tried to tuck my cocks away underneath them so that they weren’t too obscenely obvious. It didn’t do much, and I hoped we’d luck out. If the cop had even the slightest bit of backwater conservative paranoias, we were royally fucked.

We pulled off to the side of the road, all of us looking at each other nervously as the cop parked his motorcycle in front of the car and approached Zeb’s window. At the last minute he pulled off his helmet, revealing a blond head and a square face that could have been Zeb’s twin—maybe not identical, but close enough that Vic and I both made little surprised noises. Zeb, meanwhile, sighed.

“Fucking haalfirre,” he said. “I know him.”

The cop leaned against the car door and peered inside, his mirrored aviator sunglasses reflecting our faces. “Well, well, well,” he drawled in an accent I recognized from when Zeb first moved to the city. “Was going a bit fast for the road, weren’t we, Aanglish?”

“Hello, Daaren,” said Zeb, folding his arms. “Hebbee Haasenpfaap.”

“Hebbee Haasenpfaap, Zebulon,” agreed the cop. His mirrored gaze slid over to where I was sitting. “Meemaa said you’d be in, then. This here be the Haasenpfaapeer?”

“He be,” said Zeb, still scowling.

The cop stared at me, openly smirking. “A very hebbee Haasenpfaap, then.” He stroked his chin. “Ons daat vuttstaadaat dikka plaats?” he said to Zeb.

Zeb went red. “Haasen greeb onsen Haasenpfaapeer, Daaren,” he said hotly. “Faaken vutt donn faadestaadet.”

“Is that so, Aanglish,” grinned the cop, glancing between me and Zeb.

“Look, dude, you giving us a ticket or what?” said Zeb, bright red now.

Daaren the cop chuckled deeply. “Naa, Aanglish, just slapping you with a hen’s bladder. Meemaa sent me here to run ahead amid you.”

“Don’t let us be keeping you, then, Daaren,” said Zeb, scowling.

The cop didn’t move, another smirk quirking his mouth as he stared at us. “Samalt forstaandett vaat dolnek,” he said at last to Zeb. “Kunkott du laastan?”

“For fuck’s sake, Daaren,” hissed Zeb. “Distaan pataar foolen deel flakka-floop forden stoonestadden.”

Daaren laughed. “Well enough, Zebulon,” he said. He touched the top of his hair and nodded to Vic and me. “Aanglishees,” he said, and pushed himself away from the car. We watched as sauntered back to his motorcycle, putting his helmet back on.

“So, what—is he like, your brother or something?” said Vic from the back seat.

“Second cousin,” snapped Zeb, “and he thinks he’s a fucking comedian.”

“You good, dude?” I asked, because Zeb was looking pissed.

“I’m fine, man,” said Zeb. “Daaren’s always rubbing it in that he stayed and I left. Fucker thinks he’s so much better than me.”

“At least you’ve got one thing in common, bro,” said Vic. “Check out his ass.”

We looked at Daaren’s bubble ass, wrapped in his clinging cop uniform pants, as he mounted his motorcycle. A dark line of damp ran down the crack, showing off the two expansive halves.

“Fucker’s got it bad for you, bro,” crowed Vic, slapping me on the shoulders. Zeb snorted, and the next moment the three of us were laughing as Zeb put the car into drive and we followed Daaren toward Zeb’s hometown.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Zeb’s hometown was—fuck, it was trippy.

The whole of the town was set so far away from the highway I thought we’d taken a wrong turn somewhere. We were just coasting for miles and miles through the corn when suddenly bam there it was, a handful of houses in the middle of nowhere, all spread out on a road that just sort of—disappeared into a big town square area. There were a bunch of old-looking houses surrounded by farmland, the kind that look like they smell like wet wood. The houses themselves were placed on some sort of circular grid, and at the center of the circle was a huge dark church with a long roof that sagged a bit in the middle. There was a big tower-like steeple on both ends of the church, and I had to admit it looked pretty creepy.

Daaren pulled off the road into the gravel area beside one of the smaller houses, a squat little home with an overgrown garden and chickens running wild around the front yard. A tiny woman with greying blonde hair was standing on the front porch, watching us with icy blue eyes as we piled out of the car, me trying to hold the scrap of shorts over my junk—well, junks, I guess. I probably should have stayed in the car, but I figured I was going to have to come out sometime, so to speak, and besides it was fucking uncomfortable to sit in the car at my size.

The woman on the porch barely glanced at me, but Daaren was looking me over enough for a whole village of women, that smirk playing on his lips. The woman was glaring at Zeb.

“Daabest stroo, Zebulon,” she snapped angrily. “Daar kooklen?”

Zeb flushed and looked at his feet. “Kooklen vaat tuur, Meemaa,” he said.

The woman huffed, and looked at me. “You’ll be the Haasenpfaapeer, then,” she said. “You should look happier than you be.”

As fucking goofy as it was, I managed a smile. “It’s kind of a fucking inconvenience,” I said. “If I’m honest.”

The woman gave me a glare that told me she thought that was a pile of horseshit. “Daaren’ll be show you to where you can sleep tonight,” she said. “Tomorrow is Haasenpfaap Vall Baasenfaast Dikka Daak. You understand?”

I looked at Zeb, who was still looking at his feet. “Uh—I think so?”

I don’t,” said Vic.

“You wish to not be the Haasenpfaapeer, you must complete the festival,” said Zeb’s Meemaa. “The Haasenpfaapeer graces where he goes, but to not welcome him when he arrives is—” she blew out her lips and shook her head. “I never thought he would be Aanglishee when I saw him first. And this.“ Her eyes swept me from head to toe. “Must be a hungry year for worthy men, is what I can see.”

I had the vague sense she was trying to insult me, but—fuck, it was all so weird I didn’t pay much attention. That, and standing bare-assed in the middle of a cornfield was setting me off with the breeze between my legs and over my pecs which were still a little glazed from Zeb and me blowing his cherry away at the rest stop, and I had to focus to keep from the two nightsticks I was trying to cover with the shorts from rising to attention. So I just said, “Thank you—Meemaa?”

She snorted. “You—go with Daaren,” she said, waving at me dismissively. “I must prepare Zebulon and get the women moving.”

“I—um, can I have Zeb go with me and maybe skip the women?” I said, but no one was paying attention to me suddenly except Daaren, who stepped up with that fucking smirk and jerked his head toward the church. I looked at Zeb and he nodded, so I shrugged and followed Daaren into the dim, musty church, leaving Vic and Zeb behind.

The pews inside the church had been stacked against the side walls, and the stone ground had been covered with hay. I thought for a second my allergies were gonna kick in, but actually after a little tickle in my nose my airways cleared and I took a deeper breath than I had for a long time. Fuck, but they grow good hay up Zeb’s way, I guess—it smelled all clean and sweet and didn’t have any of the dusty stuff in the air that’s usually around hay.

There was a big stone slab in the center of the room, carved with a strange circle image that had weird little backwards horns coming out of it, like a sun spinning in a different direction than the rays coming off of it.

“That where you going to sacrifice me?” I said to Daaren, trying to crack a joke, but honestly the whole setup was a little freaky.

Daaren just grinned. He went to the back of the room we were standing in and popped inside a door that was almost invisibly set into the wall. A second later he came out, carrying two mugs that were almost as big as his forearms. “Driinka!” he said, raising one at me.

“I think I got that,” I said. “Fuck, dude, but you guys have a weird thing going on here.” I looked down at my bare feet peeking out under the huge slabs of my pecs and sighed. “I guess I’m not one to talk about weird things going on, am I?”

Daaren handed me one of the mugs. “Hebbee Haasenpfaap,” he said with a grin, and took an enormous swallow out of his own mug. Shrugging, I took a sniff of the drink. It didn’t smell like poison—it smelled vaguely of herbs and flowers, really—so I took a swallow. It went down smoothly—a little bitter—but then it fucking roared in the followthrough, burning my throat and making me dizzy and drunk almost all at once.

“Fucking shit, dude!” I said. “What the hell is this stuff?”

“Aakalit,” said Daaren proudly. “My own batch. Drinkka!” He took another swig.

Well—fuck, I probably shouldn’t have, but that stuff was goddamn potent, and it was mild enough it made you thirsty for more. So I tilted back the glass and gulped down a larger swallow, feeling the warmth spread through my chest and into my whole body.

“Fucking Christ,” I said when I had finished, already slurring a little. “That’s fucking—lit, man.”

Daaren just chuckled and tilted his mug back again. Not wanting to get behind, I copied him, sloshing the clear liquid all over my chin.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

I don’t remember much of the rest of the evening. I think I had two mugs of that stuff, but I also could have had just one. That stuff is fucking unsafe, I swear it. I was blacked out before I knew it, though I do have a very vague memory of describing to Daaren in fucking graphic terms how it felt to get my cock wedged up into Zeb’s welcoming asshole.

When I woke up, my head was still buzzing but I felt all right, even though I should have been rotten with a hangover. I was lying against the stone slab on the hay, and the sunlight was streaming through the dingy small windows all around the top of the room I was sitting in. From the angle of the light I guessed it was probably late evening. Had I fucking slept for the whole day?

I sat up and my head spun a bit in a different direction, and I put my hand up to steady myself, knocking back something sitting on my head. I pulled it off and stared at it. Someone had put a straw crown on my head, one of those wreath-like things that has a lot of the straw ends sticking out, woven together with tiny blue flowers. The crown felt warm in my hands as I turned it over and looked at it. At last, I shrugged and put it back in my head.

“In for a Haasenfaapeer, in for a Haasenpfaapound,” I said, then felt fucking glad I was alone. I guess I was still a little loopy from the Aakalit.

I stood up and found that it wasn’t just the hat I’d been dressed with during the night. Long strips of white and blue cloth were wrapped around my arms and legs, managing to highlight my muscles without digging into my flesh too much. They were tied off with bows in the weirdest places, like right next to my balls or in the crease of my biceps, but—fuck, it probably didn’t look too girly, considering what a hulking beast I was. It felt kind of sexy, even, the ribbons clinging to me as I stretched and highlighting my assets. Literally, I mean, there were strips that framed my ass as good as any jock I’d ever worn. It was so weird and felt so—cool—at the same time that I laughed.

“Best costume I’ve worn for a while, I guess,” I said. Like, fuck, last year for Halloween I went as a zombie firefighter, that’s how lame it was. Now here I was, dressed up like some sort of crazy god, getting ready to have a—party? ritual? whatever—in my honor.

It was all right. It was fucking more than all right. I felt better than I’ve felt in fucking years, all full of energy and ready to dive into whatever the fuck was coming next.

I didn’t have to wait long. There was a sudden shout from outside and then all at once someone started playing some drums. No, not someone—it sounded like there was a fucking drum corps going at it outside the church. The beat they were banging out was—primal, or something. It got mixed up in my heartbeat, and before too long it felt like every vein in my body was pulsing along with it. That did nothing to cool down my pecs and my cocks, which were already perking up with how good I was feeling, and in no time at all my cocks were hard in the air and my chest felt like my skin was too tight, my nips straining against my own skin, harder than I even knew they could get. I shivered. It felt like some ancient part of me was taking over, like the song the drums were playing was waking it up and it wanted to fucking dance. My skin began to sheen with sweat, my heart thudding along with the drums. A pure, hungry lust was building up at the root of my cocks and flushing through my body, making me feel hot and angry, like I was in the middle of a huge bonfire and fucking enjoying it, if that makes sense. All at once, all the little thoughts wondering what the fuck was going on just sort of—dissolved—in that feeling, and I shook my shoulders. I was the fucking Haasenpfaapeer, and those drums were calling me, I just knew it.

I went to the door of the church and threw it open hard enough that it slammed open with a boom. I was lucky it was one of those huge doors because I never would have made it through otherwise. I was fucking enormous, huge enough I had to stoop down to step out of the church.

In the light of the sunset, I saw the town square was filled with men—all blond, all fairly short—though it was hard to tell, now, what was normally short and what just looked like that from my vantage point—all looking at me except for the dozen or so setting that—fuck-rhythm on their drums. Every man in town from eighteen to forty must have been in the crowd. For a second I just stood there, my cocks waving in the breeze, dwarfing all of them. It was like a fucking superhero or fantasy movie about a town and a giant, if someone was directing it as a gay porn flick, I guess.

The drums suddenly shifted cadence and the crowd started pumping their fists in the air. “Haasenpfaapeer!” they shouted.

If I’d been who I was at the start of the week, I probably would have booked it right then. But, hell, it felt good to have them all shouting for me, even with me stripped down and wrapped up in ribbons and wearing a fucking crown. So I raised my hands up in the air like I just won a boxing match and they fucking cheered. The next thing I knew they were surging forward toward me, and I ducked back into the church in front of them as they charged in the door, stripping off their dirty work shirts and not-quite-cowboy hats and throwing them behind them as they entered.

The army of Zeb-like dudes mobbed me, their hands rubbing down my thighs and ass and cocks and abs, and soon I was lying back down against the slab, trying not to lose my mind at how fucking hot it felt to have rough, calloused hands of all the men in town caressing my cocks and squeezing my pecs. I shook as spurts of pre shot into the air from my cocks and my nips, and the men pushing all around me shouted happily, gathering up the clear liquid and smearing it on me and themselves and each other.

“Holy fuck,” I moaned, my spine arching into the intense feeling as hands palmed me and pulled and pushed at me. A dude with a bright blond beard got shoved from behind and stumbled down onto my lap, nearly getting skewered by my rock-hard cocks, but instead of fighting back he just laughed and licked the pillar of my cock, and soon all the men in the room were taking his example. I had the weirdest feeling of floating in a lake made of tongues as blond heads swarmed me, lapping at my arms and the soles of my feet in addition to the sensitive flesh of my pecs and cocks and balls.

I could feel myself rising up and wasn’t sure I had multiple cums in me—fuck, you’re never sure, right?—and I was not gonna blow my wad without Zeb with me. So I pushed myself up and stood above the crowd of men, almost half a body length taller than the tallest dude there.

“Where’s Zeb,” I rumbled, and fuck my voice had gotten low and growly. “Where’s my buddy-bro?”

If I thought that was going to end the party, though, I was wrong. The men cheered and the next moment a commotion near the door made me turn around and grin wildly.

Zeb, buck naked, was being brought into the room on the shoulders of a group of men, being passed from man to man like he was surfing the crowd at a rock concert. He was laughing and jumping, and I could see every man passing him was pulling on his stubby cock or tweaking his nipples or wriggling a finger up his ass. Slowly, Zeb traveled the length of the room and then at last the group of men presented him to me—fucking literally, because they rotated him around and then their hands all pulled his legs back, and the next thing I knew I was looking down at my beautiful bro swaying on that ocean of naked rednecks, his furry ass open to me as sun-tanned palms gripped his sides and thighs and shoulders till he was bent nearly in half on top of them, at a perfect angle for my cocks.

Fuck, I shouldn’t have, I know, but by that time I was so fucking turned on I could barely think, let alone deny myself that fucking beautiful peach split in front of me. Besides, Zeb had surprisingly had room for one huge prick yesterday—who’s to say he couldn’t take two?

I grabbed my two cocks in my hand, squeezing the straining shafts together. Zeb’s eyes widened as I squeezed the two streaming cockheads against his tight hole, but he met my gaze and nodded slightly.

“Holy fuck, Zeb,” I said, and then the most amazing thing. The dudes holding Zeb up suddenly shouted “Aactaveet!” and then they surged forward, slamming Zeb all the way to the roots of my cocks. I saw pure white for a second as I sheathed inside of him, my cocks squeezing together sending explosions of pleasure all the way through my nervous system. Impossibly, Zeb was stretching around me, taking the enormous fat lengths up into his dude-pussy, howling and flexing like the li’l muscle-stud he is, but fucking stuffed, man. As soon as I could think again I thought fucking never forget this dude, this is what life is fucking supposed to be, Wes, holy fuck dude, and then the crowd was pulling Zeb off me again, all in unison like a fucking rowing crew, and before I could register the fucking amazing feeling of his assrings sliding off my cocks they slammed my buddy back into me and I nearly collapsed again with the electric pleasure of it.

But—fuck, I wanted more. No, I fucking needed more. I barely remembered why I was there and what I was doing, but I knew this much—I needed to seed my bro. So even though my body was crawling with mind-blowing pleasure, I managed to brace my feet and take control of the fuck-rhythm, slamming myself into Zeb’s wet, grasping hole as the men around cheered. It wasn’t too long before the men holding Zeb caught on to my rhythm, holding him still when I wanted them to give me purchase and slamming back against me when I was at the height of my fuck-arc. Zeb continued to moan and flex compulsively as I double-dicked him, slamming into him like a battering ram, while the men not holding Zeb went back to rubbing my legs and ass and balls. Dicks were out now, and I felt more than one pressed up against me, streaming their own hot pre across my ribboned muscles as I splashed my own quarts of stuff out of Zeb’s ass in each thrust.

Finally I couldn’t take it anymore, and I slammed myself all the way to the roots into Zeb. My balls seized up and then all at once I was flooding him, the white-hot jizz coursing out of me and into Zeb, scalding us both as I stumbled backward, my cocks still spraying as they popped out of Zeb’s ass and sprayed like cum hoses across the crowd of men, soaking them all. My chest went off too, and all at once I was mobbed by men lapping up the stuff, off me and then off each other, and then all at once everyone was pairing up—or fucking grouping up, at least—and the room filled with the sounds of loud fucking as man after man started pumping his neighbor’s ass or taking a blond-pubed cock in his mouth or just rubbing dicks together in a writhing, sopping heap on the floor.

My dicks stopped fountaining but I was as hard as ever. I reached over and hauled Zeb out of the tangle of men fucking on the floor and cradled him in my arms as I leaned back against the stone slab, the nearest men not getting actively fucked crawling over to start licking my cocks and balls.

“Dude,” said Zeb, his blond hair getting drenched by my spraying nips, “This may be the best Haasenpfaap ever.”

I laughed. “You ready for round two, buddy?” I said softly, kissing his sticky lips as I knocked away a dude licking my right cock and pulled it back up to Zeb’s back door. “Only I’m ready to try it slow and romantic now.”

Zeb laughed and blushed. “Fuck, man, don’t make it weird,” he said.

“It isn’t weird,” I said, easing my cockhead into his slick, opened asshole. “It’s Haasenpfaap. Happy Haasenpfaap, bro.”

Zeb moaned as I slowly speared into his quivering asshole. “Happy Haasenpfaap,” he groaned, and was answered by the groans of dozens of men around us as they fucked their way through their fellow townsmen.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

I woke up early the next morning, early enough it was still pitch black outside. The church floor was strewn with sticky naked men, holding each other and snoring. Zeb and I were in a bed of hay and naked bodies, holding each other. The fall night was cold and I pulled Zeb closer to me. He was only a foot or so shorter than I was. I blinked and carefully worked my way out of his arms and sat up. The church looked a lot larger than it had earlier. I looked down at my crotch and saw my old eight-incher sitting by itself. It looked weirdly lonely. I tried squeezing my pecs. They tingled, and I definitely felt my nipples perk up, but I didn’t cum right there and whatever fluid was on my chest was from last night.

“Looks like we did it,” I said, not sure if I was disappointed or not. Sure, it was a lot less convenient to be the Haasenpfaapeer, but also—

I sighed and stood up, stretching. Tip-toeing over the sleeping men, I snuck outside to take a piss.

To my surprise, Vic was standing outside, fully dressed, talking to Daaren in low tones. He looked up when I stepped out and grinned. “Dude!” he whispered, jerking his head toward Daaren. “I totally fucked a cop! Not gay for even a week and I fucking rule, man!” He blinked at me. “Oh, man, you’re you again.”

“Guess so,” I said, shrugging. “What a—fucking week, man.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he said.

“I guess we can go home now, though,” I said.

“Yeah—about that,” said Vic, glancing at Daaren. “Something’s—um—come up, man, and I think I’m just gonna stay here.”

“You’re—what?” I said. “What the hell for?”

“Well, see, it’s like this,” said Vic, grinning, then pulled down the front of his pants. Nestled in his dark pubes were two thick cocks.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Zeb joined me as I watched Vic and Daaren drive away, Vic with his arms around Daaren’s waist.

“Fuck, is that—normal around here?” I asked, waving at them.

“Maybe it will be now,” said Zeb.

“Fucking hell,” I said. “Crazy, man.”

Zeb looked at me, holding his naked arms against the cold. “You’re not the Haasenpfaapeer anymore. It worked.” He smiled a ghostly smile. “Are you happy?”

“Shit, I dunno, man,” I said. “Are—are you?”

“Shit, I dunno either,” he said. “Um—you back to liking girls, now?”

I looked at him. “Fuck, Zeb, what a question, man.”

He looked away from me. “I feel like I deserve to know. I—um—I’m still into you, is the only thing. So that sort of sucks.”

“Sucks?” I said, blinking.

“Since you’re back to—you know, back to normal,” he said, still looking away.

“Dude, don’t be an idiot,” I said, grabbing his head and wrapping my arm around it so I could muss up his hair. “Do you think I could be with you the way I’ve been this last week and not want to be with you for the rest of my life? I fucking love you, bro. Serious. Only you. And I am not letting that ass out of my sight if I can help it.”

“What?” he said into my side. “Fucking—really??”

“Of course, dude, I thought that was a no-brainer,” I said. “Seriously, dude, you’re my—fuck it, everything I want in my life. The only thing I could have ever wanted outside of you was something to stick it in, and now I know how fucking hot you are—shit, you couldn’t be more perfect.” I pulled a bit of his hair out of his eyes. “I even like kissing you, bro.”

“Shit,” said Zeb, looking up at me. “You mean it?”

“Of course, idiot,” I said, grinning. “Always will, too. I’m yours if you’ll have me. I’m back to one cock, though.” I flicked my soft cock and shrugged.

“That’s okay, man,” he said. “This week has been—fucking intense, man—but I…well—shit, no, it’s stupid.”

“Say it,” I said.

“Just—I couldn’t be married to the Haasenpfaapeer, that’s all,” he mumbed, looking at his feet.

“Shit, are you proposing, dude?” I said, laughing. “Man, talk about fucking timing.”

Somewhere a rooster crowed, and in the east the sky started lightening. Zeb put his arm around me as we watched the sky get lighter.

“Shit, it’s pretty,” I said. “Makes me want to say something romantic.”

Zeb looked up at me, grinning.

I leaned over and kissed him. “You think we could get a little bit of ass-fucking in before all your cousins wake up?” I murmured into his lips.

“Fuck, you’re a gaableplaatz, Wes,” he laughed, flipping me off.

“And you’re a fucking stud, bro,” I said. “Let’s get back in there.” Arms around each other, we went back into the church.

5 parts 27k words Added Dec 2022 6,495 views 4.9 stars (25 votes)

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